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“As well as such a sizable group may be, so far from home and with little in the way of comfort.” He appeared to have something more to say, but reconsidered. He smiled tightly.
“We’ve been tasked with taking them home on the morn,” Ariston said. “Xerxes is far gone now. And Athens needs to fortify its walls before winter comes.”
“Sir, some of the men are anxious to find their families.” Pamphilos spoke softly at Ariston’s elbow.
Ariston nodded. “As am I, Pamphilos.”
“A word of caution, soldiers. There has been talk of illness amongst some in the tents.” Kallistratos’ face was wary, his voice dropping.
Ariston froze, raising a hand to still his men. “A fever?”
“Perhaps…of the mind, it seems.” Kallistratos shook his head.
“How many have died?” Pamphilos asked.
Ariston continued to watch the man. There was something more. Something Kallistratos was not telling them.
“No… none dead, brave hoplite.” He paused. “It is nothing fatal, it seems. It does nothing more than confuse memories. A few women have said things that make no sense – as if they’ve witnessed a creature or spirit from Hades.” He looked at them and shrugged. “It may be nothing more than poor conditions or lack of water…”
Ariston nodded. “But none have died?”
“None dead.” Kallistratos repeated. “Now, I will leave you to greet the other ships soon arriving. But find me if you’ve need of me.”
He smiled brightly before crossing the plank the crew had lowered.
Ariston watched him go. The man wanted the Athenians gone, it was plain to see.
“It would be hard to leave one’s home and temple, not knowing when it would be safe to return,” Pamphilos murmured to Ariston. “Such nervous fits are understandable from the fairer sex?”
“Be wary, Pamphilos. Speak plainly to the men. If there is illness, we would be wise to leave it here. Now Athens needs only the strong,” Ariston answered.
Pamphilos nodded and returned to the men, looking grave.
Ariston made his way to the plank, fighting the desire to run. He would find her.
There were hundreds of people in the tent town of Athens. Faces he knew, but more he did not. After walking aimlessly up and down the rows of tents, he turned back to the dock to find Kallistratos.
“I seek news of the councilman Galenus and his wife, Xenia of Athens?” Ariston asked. “My wife is in their household. Which tent is his?”
Kallistratos face stiffened. “Sir, Xenia and some of her household have taken the tent farthest from the settlement.” He took Ariston’s elbow, leaning in to speak softly. “The lady Xenia is stricken with t
he…illness, I fear.”
Ariston assessed the man’s face. “Is she mad?”
Kallistratos cleared his throat. “So it would seem.”
“Who accompanied her?”
“Several serving girls—” Kallistratos began.
“Galenus?” Something was not right. As spirited as Galenus was, he would not have stayed behind. He was a statesman, not a warrior.
The older man shook his head. “He did not make the journey, though I know not what happened. And his wife, Xenia, she grows dangerously agitated when asked.”
Ariston turned from the man, his pace quickening as he moved along the shore. Something had happened in Galenus’ house, something to distress Xenia gravely. Try as he might to avoid it, his unease increased with each step.
The tent was placed aside. A fire burned inside, but the flaps were closed.
