Even though strong purpose had brought him here, he stopped in awe.
But he shook himself and intentionally tore his eyes away from the golden chest. He looked instead at the solitary man who knelt in front of the ark, his hands clasped together and his lips moving soundlessly as he prayed.
It was unthinkable to disturb First Consul Aristocles at prayer, but some things could not wait. Amos of the city guard had told Dion that Aristocles was so grief-stricken he was spending nearly all his time at the temple, praying to the gods and pacing, gazing out to sea in the direction his daughter had been taken.
Dion licked his lips and spoke. ‘First Consul.’
Aristocles looked up in surprise. He appeared to have aged dramatically, though little time had passed since their last meeting. The white hair framing his bald crown was lank and the skin around his eyes was shadowed and sunken; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He slowly clambered to his feet and turned to face Dion.
Dion walked forward to meet him, taking in the older man’s grubby tunic and coming to the conclusion that Aristocles hadn’t washed or changed his clothes since his daughter’s capture. ‘I’ve heard the news, and I wish to express my sympathy.’
‘Dion,’ Aristocles said listlessly, gazing at him with reddened eyes. ‘What brings you here? What is so urgent as to disturb me at prayer?’
‘My father sent me to learn more about the newcomers. He fears that more ships will come in the wake of this visit. I was to ascertain their intentions.’
Aristocles gave a sardonic laugh.
Dion continued: ‘I believe my task is even more important now. Their intentions are clear. The Ileans are undoubtedly hostile. The fates of our two nations may hang in the balance. Yet, huddled in the mountains as we are, Xanthos is in the dark.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Aristocles said wearily. ‘But my problems are nonetheless greater than yours.’
‘Have you sent a rescue party yet?’
‘I cannot.’ Aristocles shook his head. ‘The consuls fear any act that may lead to outright war.’
Dion was puzzled. ‘Hasn’t that already happened?’
‘No,’ Aristocles said. ‘This could still be brushed off as a mistake, with both parties pretending misunderstanding, and any wounds soothed with silver and gold.’
Dion opened his mouth, then closed it. ‘So what are you saying? What will happen to your daughter?’
The first consul sighed. He looked like a man in physical pain. ‘I must pray that her captors treat her well and keep her safe. I tell myself that they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of capturing her if they intended her harm.’
‘Surely the consuls are advising some response?’
‘Many believe the day will soon come when the sun king’s men will return demanding tribute and acknowledgement of vassalage. It stands to reason that any agreement would be conditional on return of my daughter. To this end they believe that it is time to start gathering gold.’
Dion’s eyes widened with horror. ‘They’ve given up? All because of one warship seizing a citizen, the daughter of the first consul? And Phalesia would give up its independence?’
Aristocles spread his hands. ‘Nothing has been decided. A decision will take many days, if not weeks. It is not my choice alone.’
Dion met the first consul’s gaze with an intent stare. ‘What would you do?’
‘It’s not about what I would do. We are an Assembly.’
‘Pretend you are king for a day.’
Aristocles coughed and turned his head away. When he again met Dion’s gaze, Dion saw that the first consul’s eyes glistened. ‘I know my daughter. She would never allow herself to be any part of Phalesia’s loss of sovereignty. She would toss herself into the sea rather than be a bargaining chip. I also know of this sun king, Solon, by reputation. If Phalesia gives him gold he will only demand more. Negotiation is not our best move.’
Dion glanced at the golden chest. ‘Why not hide the ark? Put it somewhere safe?’
‘We could never do it,’ Aristocles said. ‘It would send a message that we cannot defend our most sacred relic. The people would never stand for it. We consuls only have the power they give us.’
‘Then you must launch a rescue mission,’ Dion said. ‘The longer you wait the smaller the chance of success.’
‘If a Phalesian oceangoing vessel left these waters the Assembly would learn of it. Though every moment that passes takes her further away, I cannot order a rescue, not alone, not without the Assembly’s approval. I am working on it, but it will take time. Until I can gather a vote, my hands are tied.’
Dion made sure Aristocles took note of his next words. ‘I am not Phalesian,’ he said, fixing the first consul with a firm stare.
Aristocles tilted his head. He stayed silent.
‘My father has given me permission to travel to Ilea, posing as a trader from Xanthos.’
‘To what end?’