‘Welcome, sire,’ he said. ‘Had I only known of your visit, I would have prepared a sumptuous welcome.’ The voice was deep and attractive, as indeed, Philip noticed, were the man’s large brown eyes.
‘I came to see the mines,’ Philip said.
‘But why, sire? There is little for a man of breeding to see. Great gaping holes in the earth, and a few tunnels full of stench. I will gladly show you the smelting houses.’
Philip’s voice dropped low and a dangerous glint showed in his eyes. ‘You will show me what I wish to see,’ he said slowly. ‘You will do this, Elyphion, because you are my servant. Now, take me to the mines.’
The King rose.
‘Yes, of course, sire, I will just dress; I will not be long.’
‘Attalus!’ snapped Philip.
‘Yes, sire?’
‘If this fat fool disobeys one more instruction, take your knife and open his belly from groin to throat.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Attalus replied, grinning at the mortified Elyphion.
‘Now, sir – the mines, I think,’ said the King.
‘At once . . . sire,’ stammered Elyphion. The fat governor shouted for his carriage and within minutes a wagon was brought to the front of the palace. Drawn by four black geldings, it resembled a giant chariot save that it had a wide cushioned seat. Elyphion settled himself in place and a servant climbed in beside him, flicking the reins.
Despite their avowed disinterest in mining Attalus and Nicanor rode behind Philip, unwilling to miss the King’s visit.
They rode for almost an hour until they came to a small valley where the earth had been gouged as if by a huge pick. Far below them they could see the slaves digging in the earth, and others shuffling from tunnels in the hillside.
Slowly the riders descended.
Nicanor’s eyes raked the working groups. Both men and women laboured here, their skeletal bodies covered in weeping sores, while around them stood guards armed with short, wicked whips. To the right a woman carrying a basket of rocks stumbled and fell, cracking her head against a boulder. She did not cry out, but wearily pushed herself to her feet and stumbled on.
Ahead Philip rode to the nearest tunnel mouth and dismounted.
Elyphion climbed ponderously from the wagon. ‘As you ordered, sire. This is the mine.’
‘Take me inside.’
‘Inside?’
‘Are you deaf?’
Elyphion walked slowly towards the darkness of the tunnel, halting to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Lanterns hung from the walls, but the tunnel was full of choking dust. Elyphion’s servant, the man who had led the King to the andron, poured water on a linen cloth and gave it to his master. Elyphion held it to his face
and walked further into the mine. The ground sloped ever down and the air grew thick and stale. From far ahead, they could hear the sound of metal tools hacking at rock.
A shower of dust clattered to Attalus’ breastplate and the warrior glanced nervously at the timbers shoring up the roof. One of them showed a split, through which earth was filtering.
Still they walked on.
They came to the body of a young woman which had been pushed to the side of the tunnel. Dirt had covered her eyes and filled her open mouth. The tunnel roof was lower here and they walked on with heads bowed. But it dropped lower still.
Elyphion stopped. Tdon’f know what you want to see, sire,’ he whimpered.
‘Move on!’ ordered Philip. Elyphion dropped to hands and knees and began to crawl forward. Philip turned to the others. ‘Wait here,’ he said, then followed the governor.
Nicanor turned to Attalus. ‘Do you think we could move back just a little, to where the roof is higher? Would Philip mind, do you think?’
Sweat was streaking the grime on Attalus’ face. He felt cold and full of fear; but he stood his ground and looked at Antipater. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘I … er … do not believe the King would object,’ Antipater answered. The three men inched their way back to the wider tunnel, stopping where they could just see the glint of sunlight in the distance. There they waited. Nicanor could not stop himself from staring at the dead woman.