“You know we can't, as much as I'd love to,” Ari replied, though it ached to say no to the girl, for he wanted nothing more in the world than to be in her company. “It's dangerous where we're going,” he added. “You wouldn't be safe with us.”
“I'd rather take that chance than go back to them,” she replied. “You don't know what it's like, being a woman, and a slave.”
“And what makes you think we would treat you any better?” said Dimitrios as he rode up.
“I don't know if you would treat me any better – but he would,” she said with a big smile as she looked at Ari. “I just know he would.”
Klemes let loose an uncharacteristic laugh as he saw Ari blush. “Yes, my dear girl, I dare say he would,” he added as he let out another laugh. “What do you say, brother?”
Dimitrios tried to look like he was in charge. He tried very hard to be stern – but he couldn't. Any girl who made Ari blush and Klemes laugh had to be someone special. Still, he thought, this couldn't happen.”
“Look, lass,” Dimitrios said as kindly yet as steadily as he could, “we're just a pack of rough soldiers and...”
“Speak for yourself, brother! God damn it Dimitrios, I'm a physician, not a soldier! You know, first do no harm and all of that...she'd be perfectly safe with us, or at least with me, and you know it.”
“Yes, Dimitrios,” added Ari. “After all, who knows what they might do to her, trying to escape and steal a horse...”
“And to us,” Dimitrios replied. “They're bound to come after her – or at least the horse – and we've got enough to worry about where we're going.”
“Oh, don't worry about that, your honor,” said the girl. “They won't be coming after me, or Lemi, here, for that matter,” she added as she patted the horse on its neck and gave her a little kiss.
“Of course they will!” Dimitrios shot back. “Don't lie to me, girl. They will surely come after you and your, what did you call her, 'Lemi'?”
“Well, but not today – or tomorrow,” she replied.
“And just why not?” asked Dimitrios, as he leaned over to grab her horse's reins.
“Because when I took Lemi, I let the rest of the horses out of the paddock and gave them a good fright. The master took the best horses with him – the others were mostly wild, or only partially broken. And they'll have to be run down and caught by men on foot – and that's going to take time. Speaking of which, we are wasting it sitting around here talking. So, can we please get going?”
“You have no idea where we are going,” said Dimitrios.
“Well,” she said with a laughter as she clicked her tongue and gave Lemi a little kick with her heels, “it has to be better than where I've been, so let's get going. Yah!” she concluded, as she and Lemi raced down the road in the direction the three men had been riding.
“This is all your fault,” Dimitrios said to Klemes.
“How is it my fault, brother?” asked the physician. “It's the boy she's interested in, not me. If anyone's at fault it's Ari...”
“And how is this my fault?” the boy asked.
“Because you've got that...that face of yours,” grumbled Dimitrios, “and that stupid, kind, trustworthy kind of face, that's why. This is just like that time with the girl in the tavern in Athens, or back at my father's wine shop in Thebes years ago...”
“No,” said Ari, “this time it's different,” he added, as he, too kicked his horse to gallop after the girl.
68
East of Mylasa
Ride, She Said, Ride
“Give the girl her due, she can ride,” Klemes said with grudging respect – and surprise.
“She's obviously a Persian – they're taught to ride before they can walk,” replied Dimitrios.
“But the Persians don't enslave their own,” remarked Klemes. “Cyrus, the founder of their empire, abolished most forms of slavery 200 years ago.”
“Well, maybe she's a debt slave...”
“No,” replied Klemes. “Unlike Athens or Thebes, you can't sell yourself or your children into slavery, even temporary slavery, to pay off a debt. The only slaves they allow are those taken in battle from rebels or remote tribes.”
“Well,” said Dimitrios. “This empire has seen its share of rebels these last few years. Even Memnon and his brother were rebels once; then they won back their lands and ranks by helping the emperor put down a different gang of rebels.”
“What are you two blabbering about,” said Ari as he caught up with the brothers.
“We're trying to decide just who is this girl who seems so moonstruck by you,” replied Dimitrios.
“Why don't you just ask her?” said Ari, rather matter-of-factually.
Klemes and Dimitrios stared blankly at each other, and then turned to give the same look to Ari.
“Well, I suppose one of us could...” said Dimitrios.
“Don't look at me, brother,” said Klemes. “I'm a physician, not a match-maker. Besides, it's Ari she likes, so it's obviously Ari who should do the asking.”
“I will,” agreed Ari, “once I catch up to her. Damn! That girl can ride!”
“Rocks? That's all they said? After all of that torture?” Alexander asked Ptolemy, obviously both perturbed and disappointed in the results of the interrogation of the Persian scouts.
“That's all I could make out, Alexander. You know my Persian isn't very good...”
“But you had an interpreter with you, right? Well, didn't you?”
“Well, part of the time...” mumbled Ptolemy, while uneasily looking down at his own feet. “I mean, they held out a long time, and I didn't think...”
Alexander fought very hard not to lose his temper, but as Ptolemy could easily see, it was a losing battle. If anything, Alexander trying to not become angry was worse than Alexander getting angry. At least when he did scream, or yell, or berate someone, it passed quickly. When he held it in, as Ptolemy knew all too well after 20 years, Alexander tended to get very, very cold – and not a little bit scary.
“What the hell does 'rocks' mean?” the king asked his lieutenant. “The rocks they are shooting at us? Are they somehow different than the rocks we are shooting at them?”
“I can go have the men collect some and we can comp...”
“No! You idiot!” shouted Alexander, his rage near the boiling point out of pure exasperation. “I've seen the rocks they rain down on us. They're just like any other damn rocks. They fall, and tumble, and crush, and...”
The king suddenly paused. His rage giving way to something that was trying to fight its way to his tongue from deep within his memory. Rocks, rocks, rocks. What was it about rocks that he should know, he thought to himself.
“Think hard, think very, very hard,” Alexander said, taking Ptolemy by the shoulders and staring directly into his eyes. “They had to say something else besides 'rocks.' Something, anything...”
“Well, now that you mention it...”
“Yes, Ptolemy, come on, what is it,” said Alexander slowly, directly and trying to coax out whatever Ptolemy was struggling to recall.
“'Ghermez,' or 'qermez,' and 'sefeed' and some other words I didn't quite catch...or....”
Alexander's eyes lit up, and all trace of anger disappeared from his face. He took his hands from Ptolemy's shoulders and placed them on either side of his face, and then placed a kiss on each cheek.
“You great big oaf. You great, big, silly, beautiful oaf!”
“Huh?” said Ptolemy, completely caught by surprise at Alexander's sudden change in attitude.
“Those words mean 'red' and 'white,' in their language. And I imagine you also heard 'zard' and 'sabz' maybe, am I right?”
“I...I think so,” mumbled Ptolemy, still thoroughly puzzled.
“Those are 'yellow' and 'green,' which you'd know if you had paid more attention to Aristotle when we were boys, instead of daydreaming about whatever or whoever you dreamed about back then.”
“Frogs.”
“What?” sa
id Alexander.
“Frogs,” repeated Ptolemy. “I always liked frogs. Wondered how they could jump so high and...”
“Aaargh! Enough about frogs! Ptolemy, you lumbering lummox. Those colors...those are the colors I saw painted on the rocks when we were under fire out in the plain!”
“So?”
“So, the rocks were painted on only one side – the side facing the city,” explained Alexander.
“And what has that got to do with...”
“Think! Ptolemy, for once in your life, think! Memnon is using the rocks as aiming points. His men are able to hit us every time because they know exactly how far it is to their targets. I don't know if the different colors are for different ranges, or for different weapons...but that doesn't matter.”
“Umm, all right...but how does that help us?”
“Ptolemy, you dear, sweet, thick-skulled bully boy,” teased Alexander as he brought him closer again to hug and place a kiss on his cheek. “It helps us because tonight, when the sun goes down, you and your lads are going to sneak out there and move the rocks all about. Move them left, right, forward, back, any which way, I don't care and it doesn't matter – just as long as you move them enough...and switch a few about. Tomorrow we'll launch a probing attack, and then, Ptolemy...”
“Yes, my king?”
“Then we will see just where the rocks fall.”
While Alexander was congratulating himself on finding the answer to one puzzle, Ari was working up the courage to ask the questions that would solve another: namely, just who this girl was who had invited herself to join their little group...and how could he convince his friends to let her stay?
They had ridden hard all day, at a pace set by the girl and her horse, Lemi. She had managed to stay ahead of the three men and their mounts, until she decided to rest Lemi at a shady spring by the side of the rough road. The girl knew horses, and not just because she could ride, but also, as Ari noted, because she was careful to let the horse cool down and nibble a little grass before letting her go to the watering hole.
That delay gave Ari time to ride up, dismount, and lead his own horse over to her. It also gave him time to decide how best to ask his questions, hopefully without making the girl angry or alarmed.
“You told us your horse's name,” said Ari sheepishly as he walked up to the girl, “but you didn't give us yours.”
“It's Halime,” she answered without hesitation. “Halime from Mylasa.”
“You weren't born a slave then, were you, not if you have a name...and not if you can ride and care for a horse like that.”
“No. I was not born a slave – and technically, I am not one now – or at least I wasn't one. More of a prisoner, or a hostage, more correctly.”
“A hostage? To whom, and for what?” asked Dimitrios, who had ridden up, dismounted, and led his horse to water just in time to hear Halime's answer.
“To the lord who owns that estate we just left. My father borrowed a great sum of money from him, and I am the, how do you say it, collateral for the loan. Part of the terms of its repayment are that I do whatever his steward would have me do – within the bounds of my and my family's honor, at least. Or at least that is how it is supposed to be, but...” she explained, her words trailing off to allow the men to fill in the rest of the details for themselves.
“I see,” said Dimitrios, a bit embarrassed at what images were going through his mind. “So, you were not as well treated as your father had arranged, then?”
“Oh, at first I was,” she replied as she used a hand to pull the tangles out of Lemi's lush, blonde main. “But as the weeks and then months dragged on, and there was no word from my father, or from the lord...well, the steward and his chief guard began to say things, and make jokes – although they weren't really jokes, if you take my meaning.”
“That is understandable, a pretty young girl like yourself, with your obvious breeding and poise...”
“Men!” she sighed, interrupting Dimitrios' ramblings. “You are all alike, you really are, aren't you. Just because a girl likes to keep herself clean, braid her hair, and change her clothes every day or two, you think it's all for you – all because of you. Well, it isn't,” she said, waving a finger at the captain and poking his chest.
“I'd, I'd, I'd never think that,” said Ari nervously.
“No, of course you wouldn't,” she replied, completely changing her tone and reaching out to brush the hair from his forehead. “I could tell right away that you were different. That's why I ran away with you. I knew the moment I saw you that you were a kind man; one of the good ones. And I was right, wasn't I?” she added with a little laugh and a smile – a smile that struck Ari as hard as if it had been a stone, and as soft and welcoming as if it had been a pillow.
“You said you have not heard from your father or the lord in a while? When did you last hear from them?” asked Dimitrios, trying to bring the conversation back around to where he could find the answers he sought.
“Many months ago. A rider came with a summons for the lord and all of his men to go north, and of course my father, and my brothers, they put on their armor, too, to ride with him. They were to join up with a greater lord. The last I heard, they were going to join the army that the great satrap Spithridates was raising to fight that Macedonian invader. You're soldiers, I can tell. You might have seen them? “
Dimitrios looked first at Ari, then at Klemes, and then back at Halime.
“Yes, Halime, we are soldiers, and, unfortunately, we were with that very army,” the captain said quietly. “I think you should sit down. We've got some things to tell you. Have you ever heard of a river called the Granicos?”
69
Halicarnassos
The Queen Visits Her Newly Adopted Son
The unexpected arrival of Queen Ada caused such a disruption in Alexander's camp that all preparations for the next attack were brought to a screeching halt. The army shuddered, much the way a horse about to charge would if its rider suddenly yanked back on its reins or an arrow would fly off wildly if its bowstring broke. The parade – for that is what it was – of Queen Ada threw the camp into complete disorder. Not merely because of its sudden and completely unexpected interruption of the army's routine, but also because of the handfuls of gold and silver coins that the queen's servants showered upon the soldiers as they passed.
No soldier ever has enough money, especially not when they are required to purchase their own food and drink, let alone entertainment from sutlers, itinerant merchants, local farmers, and camp followers. In an army far from home, long on campaign, and bloated with mercenaries, the appetite for coin is only doubled – and in the case of Alexander's army, that appetite had grown into a hunger. As the coins rained down, discipline collapsed, as the men scrambled and fought with each other to get as much as they could grab.
The only way in which the queen's assault on the camp – for in many ways it was indeed an assault, and one every bit as disruptive as if Memnon himself had led a column of elephants on a charge – could have caused even more of tumult was if she had been accompanied by half-naked slave girls who offered the men bowls and skins of wine as they passed through. Which, of course, was exactly what was going on, and all to the accompaniment of the largest and loudest marching band this side of Cathay.
And, of course, there were lions – for lions are noble, along with tigers, and bears, and many other creatures. Some were in cages, others held in check only by strong bare-chested men whose muscles bulged with the strain of holding their leashes. At the center of all of this procession was the queen herself, sitting upon a golden throne inside a bejeweled howdah that itself was perched upon the back of a massive elephant. And that great beast was not one of the comparatively small Indian variety, but a titanic towering tusker whose ivory protuberances were longer than cavalry lances and tipped with gold. Had Zeus himself suddenly dropped in for lunch while tossing thunderbolts out of Apollo's fiery chariot, the impact upon the army and the sha
ttering of its discipline could not have been more complete.
Alexander, needless to say, was not amused.
He was, however, too stunned to express anger, outrage, or any other of the many explosive emotions Hephaestion, Ptolemy and Parmenio expected. The young king simply stood frozen, uncharacteristically silent, slack jawed, mouth open in astonishment as the moving spectacle snaked through the crowds of scrambling soldiers. It all finally came to a halt at the foot of the small hill upon which his tent stood. With great fanfare that included the pounding of many massive camel-mounted kettle-drums, the clashing of a score of pairs of brass cymbals carried by turbaned men riding white horses and, of course, the blare of many, many trumpets, the queen's elephant came to a dead stop, its tusks nearly tickling the king himself.
As the mighty mammoth knelt, as if paying homage to the young Macedonian, a dozen strong men in silk gauze raced up alongside its now partially supine bulk. They brought forth a set of carpeted steps, which they placed opposite the door to the howdah, and proceeded to assist the corpulent queen in her descent from the grand beastie.
“Ah, there you are, my dear, sweet boy!” she burbled in joy upon seeing the king. “Come, embrace your loving mother!” she added. The buxom matron spread wide her chubby arms in an invitation for Alexander to come and lose himself in her loving clutches. Unused as he was to such displays of affection from his true mother, Alexander hesitated and even began to step back – only to be pursued by the full-bosomed monarch who once again sweetly called upon the king to greet her in the manner of a loving and dutiful offspring.
Alexander had looked death in the eye. He had ridden hell-for-leather into a forest of Theban spears, charged up a muddy river bank to duel with armored Persian nobles, and climbed a ladder, sword in hand, to storm the ramparts of more than one mighty fortress – but this time, the man who never faltered, who never retreated, who never even contemplated defeat, meekly capitulated to the corpulent queen of Caria.
A Captain of Thebes Page 41