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Artemis, Laodon called it.
    I remember that I spent a good deal of time worrying whether he meant to rape me. Just to give you an idea of what Laodon was known for.
    He was an excellent hunter, though, and his eye for the field sign was without error, and while I don’t remember why I was allowed to accompany him, it certainly wasn’t my looks. I was fit – we all were – but you can look at my profile on coins, can’t you? I am not a handsome man, and my friends called me ‘Georgoi’ or ‘Farm Boy’.
    If it was a privilege, it was a scary one. I was on my guard, never within reach of his arms. That’s pretty much how we lived our lives – just so you know.
    Noon came, and I was ravenous. What boy isn’t? We’d been mounted since dawn, and up and down from our mounts, looking at fewmets and tracks and traces and rubs, and then up again – riding down steep hills, up rocky defiles, or over the downed trunks of ancient trees that had stood like towers when Hector fought Achilles.
    We came to a muddy ditch where the trail crossed a stream – the passage of men and animals had worn the end of the trail into the ditch. Laodon dismounted, handed me his reins, and looked into the ditch for a long time.
    ‘A great many men passed this way,’ he said, and scratched his beard. His eyes were alive, of a sudden, and he moved his head slowly around like a hawk does when searching for prey.
    Then he shrugged. ‘I’m getting old, boy, and I see bandits behind every tree. What have you packed us to eat?’
    I had a leather bag full of cheese and bread, and a pottery flask of good Nisean wine. I laid it out for him and stood back – pages don’t eat with knights.
    He nodded curtly, ate some bread, drank some wine and grinned at me.
    ‘That’s good wine, young Ptolemy.’ He drank another sip from his horn cup and nodded.
    I probably flushed with the praise.
    ‘Sit, boy. Eat.’ He indicated the food.
    I guess my fears were obvious. I sat too carefully.
    Laodon laughed. Like lightning, his hand was on the back of my neck, locking me to the ground. ‘If I wanted you,’ he said with a snort, ‘you’d be mine.’ He snickered. ‘Not my type, boy.’ He slapped my rump and picked up his horn cup, which he’d somehow set aside without spilling its contents while he put me on the ground with one hand.
    I was shaken, but I managed to eat anyway. Oh, for a moment of that youth now! Beans make me fart, milk curdles in my stomach and too much wine goes to my head. At fifteen, I could go straight from fear and terror to eating without passing through any intervening stages. I remember how good the cheese was.
    ‘Have some wine, virgin,’ Laodon said, handing me his cup. He got to his feet. ‘I’m going to look around.’
    I sat on a big rock by the stream and drank wine from his horn cup. He was an important man and a famous warrior, and to be allowed to drink from his cup was a compliment. My father loathed him – which, at fifteen, can make a man more appealing.
    I was wondering whether his permission went as far as a second cup of wine when a hand came over my mouth and I was dragged off the rock.
    ‘Don’t make a noise, virgin,’ Laodon said. ‘There’s an Illyrian raiding party on the other side of the ridge. Can you find your way back to camp without me?’ His hand came off my mouth.
    ‘Yes, lord,’ I said.
    ‘You are absolutely positive? No horse shit?’ He turned my head. ‘Swear by Zeus?’
    ‘By Zeus, god of kings, and my ancestor Herakles,’ I said.
    ‘Good boy. Go! Warn the prince!’ he said. He helped me mount to save time. ‘Never take lunch by a stream,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You can’t hear anything.’
    ‘Are they after us?’ I asked him.
    He shrugged and slapped my horse on the rump, and Poseidon sprang forward.
    Almost immediately I faced a quandary. I was not lying – I knew how to get back to camp. But we’d come a great half-circle north and west around the high hill,