“Be ready when I drop the amphora,” I said, and started to move on. His iron-hard grasp closed on my wrist, and I almost despaired, but he only emptied his cup in a single gulp and put it on the table to be refilled, his face blank. As I leaned to fill the cup, I felt a weight drop into the pocket stitched to my tunic.

Stepping back, I reached with my free hand and hunted for what I’d felt. I knew it as soon as I touched it, his lion’s head ring, to show his men in case they didn’t recognize me, either.

Hastily I moved to the next man. I didn’t dare look toward the head table, where the baron sat. I doubted that he had heard anything of Timos’s story—there was no reason to mention something as trivial as a houseboy’s fabricated story to the head of the household—but I still didn’t want to catch the baron’s eye. I moved on to the next man, and the next. There were no ladies present. It wasn’t going to be an event for ladies.

I bent to whisper into the ear of each of my father’s men as I poured the wine, and showed them his ring, holding it in my fist and opening my fingers briefly to allow them to see it. When I’d worked my way around the table, I left the dining room. My father’s small group of men had no chance against an entire megaron. They needed to escape, and quickly. I left my amphora in a niche and ran down the flight of shallow steps outside the great room to the pronaos of the house, where the doors out to the forecourt were standing open. No one took any notice of me as I cut across to the narrow gate at the top of the ramp that led down to the stables.

The baron liked his horses, and the stables were extensive. There was a separate shed reserved for guests’ animals, and I went there first to find a stable boy. “The baron’s guests leave early. Bring the horses up.”

The stable boy was already nodding in compliance and getting to his feet when someone behind me spoke.

“Since when did you become a houseboy, slave?”

I turned slowly. It was the soldier who had beaten Dirnes and cost me the skin off my back.

He smiled unkindly. Unsure how to react, the stable boy looked from one of us to the other. I was at a standstill. I couldn’t bluff my way past the soldier, and I couldn’t bully him as I had Timos. I could attack him, but I wouldn’t win, and while we were fighting, the stable boy would run screaming for help.

The soldier knew it, and his smile broadened. “You’ll come with me to see the captain,” he said, and nodded toward the open doorway of the stable. Swearing under my breath, I walked as he indicated. As I passed outside, a dark movement at the door frame caught my eye. I stopped abruptly and said over my shoulder to the stable boy, “He’ll find out about you soon enough.”

The soldier also stopped, as I’d hoped he would, and turned back to the stable boy, who was protesting his innocence but backing away nonetheless. The soldier grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along through the doorway, where Ochto, his face obscured by a piece of cloth, hit the soldier from behind and dropped him like a sack of dirt. Dirnes, coming from the other side, was naked to the waist and had his shirt in his hands. He wrapped the boy’s head with it. There was a muffled cry, and then Ochto dropped the stable boy as well.

“Did they see us?” Dirnes asked fearfully.

Ochto shook his head.

“Get his feet,” he said.

He and Dirnes carried the soldier into the feed room. I lifted the lightweight stable boy on my own, even as I asked Ochto what in the name of all that was sacred he thought he was doing.

“Helping you,” said Dirnes.

“Why?”

They put the soldier down, and Ochto straightened to look me in the eye. “Because I know nothing about kings and princes, but I know men.”

“Are you mad?” I asked.

Ochto shrugged. “In a few minutes I’ll have to go up to the kitchens to tell the steward that you are missing. I’ll tell him that when you didn’t come in for the night, I suspected you had run off and sent Dirnes to see if you’d been incapacitated at the abattoir. I’ll say I followed him, and when we found nothing, we came back together. I doubt the steward will pursue it.”

Indeed, he would not. I had forgotten that in order to report me missing, the steward would first have to tell the baron that he’d been keeping secrets for his daughter. “Tell him”—I licked my lips—“tell him, least said, soonest mended.”

“You’ll want to find another stable boy quickly,” Ochto advised. Dirnes pulled his shirt back on and nodded to me; then the two of them headed back down to the barracks.

“Come with me!” I said after them.

They paused, even as I reconsidered. I might not live out the night, and no one knew of their part in recent events. “If you like,” I added lamely.

Dirnes waved farewell.

“You know where to find us,” said Ochto, and they disappeared into the dark.

So, I found another hand in the stables and told him that the horses were wanted, and then I made my way back up the forecourt of the megaron and from there to the great room.

I’d collected my amphora, and I began pouring wine again. When I reached my father, I told him of the horses and then continued working my way along the table. I’d made it only halfway when I looked up from a cup I was filling and saw Timos standing in a doorway opposite. He stepped out of sight, but he’d seen me, I was certain. There was nothing I could do except continue on to the next of my father’s men, skipping everyone between, and hoping none of the slighted drinkers called me back.

I spoke to three more of my father’s soldiers, but they were the last because Timos was waiting for me at the end of the table. He’d gone to get help and was flanked by several husky housemen. I dropped the amphora, hoping to touch off the fighting, but to my consternation, one of the housemen caught it. He then passed it to Timos, who held it tight. Strong hands gripped me and began to heave me across the floor. I drew my breath to shout, but someone covered my mouth. I tried to bite the hand that was stifling me, but its owner just ground it harder against my mouth, forcing my lips against my teeth. I dug in my heels and surged against the men, sending all of us crashing into Timos. The men holding my arms pulled me back again.

It takes more time to tell of it than to live through it. The whole great room was frozen in surprise, but I knew that at any moment the baron would recognize me or would signal his men to attack, while my father’s men hesitated, waiting for their signal, and Timos was still clutching the amphora to his chest like his lost reputation. I threw myself forward again, trying to hit him with my shoulder. Finally, he lifted the amphora high to keep it safe, and I kicked him hard where it would hurt the most. The amphora dropped.

It smashed on the tiles, and the room exploded. Benches tumbled over, and men shouted. My father’s voice rose over the rest as he shouted for his men to press for the forecourt. The hands holding me weakened, and I struggled free. My father was soon surrounded by his men and began forcing his way to the doors. There were smaller fights all over the room, but the element of surprise was no longer in the baron’s favor, and enough men knew that the horses were waiting. They had a goal to reach instead of standing their ground to fight to the death surrounded by enemies.

A man came at me with a knife, and I punched him in the face with the accumulated force of a thousand thousand shovels full of dirt. His eyes rolled up as he slowly tipped backward. Poor Timos was still crouched on the floor, and I stepped over him to grab the shoulders of another man and throw him aside. Ahead of me was someone I recognized, Hanaktos’s son Kimix. I called his name, and when he looked up in surprise, I punched him, too.