Sophos paid no attention whatsoever and continued beating the man until he fell to the ground coughing up blood.
‘You’ve broken his ribs, are you happy now?’ Xeno accused him furiously.
‘I did what I had to do! This bastard thinks we’re idiots!’
Xeno lowered his head and walked away, muttering under his breath, ‘It makes no sense, no sense at all . . .’
It snowed all night. The next morning the man was gone.
‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’ exclaimed Xeno as soon as they had told him. He dressed hurriedly and rushed to Sophos’s tent. ‘How did he get away? Where were the guards? Why did no one stop him?’
‘They must have thought that he was in such a bad way that he couldn’t get far, and that he wouldn’t have abandoned his son.’
‘They must have thought?’ repeated Xeno, incensed. ‘What does that mean? Who’s responsible for this? I want to interrogate the men who were on guard last night!’
Sophos snapped back, ‘You won’t be questioning anyone, writer. You have no authority to do so. You have no rank in this army.’
Xeno turned his back on him. He was seething; his friend had never treated him this way before.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Wherever I damn well please!’
Sophos changed his tone. ‘Listen, I’m angry as well, but I can’t punish men who spent the night out in the snow and have been living under such desperate conditions for months. We’ll find our way without him.’
‘If you say so . . .’ Xeno replied, his teeth clenched. He left.
I’d never seen them arguing like that, and the other officers were taken aback as well. Xanthi called, ‘Wait, come back. We have to talk.’
‘Let him go,’ said Timas. ‘He’ll get over it. We’ll talk later.’
Xeno returned to the rearguard without saying a word. He was furious.
We started up again and we walked all that day and the next under the snow, which was falling quite heavily. Towards evening of the second day, we reached a river bank. Westward, the cloud cover was opening a bit, letting through the last rays of the setting sun which spread in bloody streaks over the water and the snow.
It seemed unreal, a magical spell. But it only lasted a few moments.
The river was wide and flowed full and fast from left to right. Eastward, I thought. There was no way to cross it but at least there were no other dangers in sight.
Sophos summoned his staff to a meeting. Xeno didn’t want to go, but Agasias and Cleanor convinced him in the end, although they practically had to drag him there.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Sophos, scowling.
‘A bridge,’ suggested Xanthi. ‘There are trees over on those hills.’
‘A bridge?’ repeated Timas. ‘Yes, why not. We’ll drive the stakes in the river bed two at a time, binding them together, and we’ll build a footbridge, adding stakes as we go along, until we get to the other side.’
‘Let’s get started,’ said Cleanor, ‘and get one more obstacle out of our way. I’ll bet you anything that on the other side of those mountains there we’ll be looking at the sea.’
‘Or we’ll be looking at another mountain chain.’ Agasias dampened his enthusiasm. ‘You know how deceptive appearances can be around here.’
‘I say we’ll see the sea,’ retorted Cleanor.
‘It’s no use quarrelling over whether the sea is there or not,’ Agasias commented.
Xeno hadn’t said a word. He scrutinized the current and tried to understand.
‘We have to figure out what river this is,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, our guide has bolted.’
‘I’ve heard enough about the guide!’ Sophos burst out. ‘And I don’t want to hear any more!’
‘Let’s try to stay calm,’ suggested Timas.
Xeno went on, ‘This is a big river, an important river. It must have a name. Maybe it’s a river we know. If we could find out, I think I could calculate fairly accurately where we are, and establish what direction we should take. It’s essential that we avoid long detours and not waste time and energy in building a bridge if it’s not necessary.’
Agasias dropped his head into his hands as if searching for an idea. ‘We need to find someone from around here who speaks our language. I haven’t seen a soul.’
‘Then let’s build this bridge,’ concluded Xanthi.
‘One moment,’ interrupted Sophos. ‘Look down there.’
Just then they glimpsed a man walking along the river bank with a dog, carrying a basketful of wood on his shoulders.
‘Run, before he gets away!’ shouted Agasias, as he set off full tilt in the direction of the man who’d appeared as if by magic. The others took off after him, and Xeno passed Agasias by running where the snow was less deep.
The man with the basket stopped, seeming more curious than afraid of the group of foreigners hurtling towards him, jumping like madmen through piles of drifted snow. The dog started to bark in alarm but didn’t move.
Xeno got there first, panting. ‘What is this river?’ he asked, all in one breath.
The dog kept barking. The man shook his head. He didn’t understand.
‘The name of this river!’ shouted Timas as he caught up to them.
Agasias started to gesticulate, trying to imitate the current flowing between the river’s banks. ‘The river, understand? What do you called this damned river?’
‘He doesn’t understand, can’t you see that he doesn’t understand?’ said Xanthi.
The man gave a start, and finally seemed to intuit what they were asking. He said ‘Keden? Keden gotchetsyal . . . Pase! Pase!’
‘Pase . . .’ repeated Xeno. ‘Pase, that’s what it’s called. Pase . . . yes, of course! Of course! This is the Phasis! The river Phasis. I know where we are! I know exactly where to go. No bridge. We will follow the river and it will lead us to the sea and to a beautiful city. We’ve made it, boys! We’ve done it!’
Everyone started shouting and cheering with excitement, throwing handfuls of snow at each other like children.
I was the only one who still couldn’t understand.
I couldn’t understand why the water was flowing east, towards the heart of the Persian empire. Away from the sea, not towards it.
23
THAT NIGHT, in our tent, holding each other close under a ram’s skin, we listened to the sound of the river running swiftly towards its destiny. All kinds of thoughts and questions were jostling in my head.
‘How can you be so sure that the river is the Phasis? And why should the Phasis lead us to safety?’
As he’d done before, Xeno wrapped his arms around me and told me a story.
‘The Phasis is the only big, fast-flowing river in this region. I’ve looked at the stars and I have no doubt about it. The name that man used, Pase, is certainly the original name that our Phasis comes from. Besides, Chirisophus is sure of it as well. He knows I’m right and he’s backing my plan to follow the current.’
‘But the water is flowing in the opposite direction to the way we should be marching,’ I couldn’t help but point out. ‘If we follow it, we’ll end up in a land even more distant and more unfamiliar than the region we’re crossing now.’
‘Water flows downward, and towards the sea. If the current is flowing east instead of west at this point, it’s only because of the slope of the land. But it will change direction and descend towards the sea, and at the mouth of the river we’ll find a city that one of our heroes visited many centuries ago.’
‘Who was this hero? What was he doing in such a remote land?’
‘His name was Jason and he was a prince. He was taken away from his kingdom as a young child on the night that his father Aeson was killed by his own half-brother, Pelias, who seized power in his brother’s place. The boy was raised in secret by a marvellous creature of infinite wisdom. When Jason was an adult he left the caves on the mountainside where he had grown up and returned to his kingd
om. As he was crossing a river, he lost his sandal, and thus clad he arrived at the royal palace, frightening to death his uncle, who had been told by an oracle that he would be deposed by a man wearing a single sandal.
‘So Pelias sent the young man to carry out what he thought would be an impossible task: to bring home the fleece – completely made of gold – of a gigantic magic ram. This fleece was considered the most powerful talisman on earth. The precious object was to be found in Colchis, the most extreme eastern region of the world, and was guarded day and night by an enormous dragon who breathed flames from his nostrils.
‘Jason accepted the challenge and convinced the strongest heroes in Greece to join him. They built the first ship in human history, carved from a single towering pine tree from Mount Pelion, and left for Colchis. When he arrived there he asked the king for help, but it was the king’s daughter, the beautiful Princess Medea, who fell in love with Jason and told him the secret that would enable him to defeat the dragon and return home.
‘Jason captured the golden fleece, became king of his city, and married Medea.’
‘So it all ended up well?’
‘No, just the opposite. Their union turned into a nightmare and ended in blood.’
‘I wonder why your stories always end badly.’
‘Because they mirror reality. In reality, few things end up well.’
I felt the blood freeze in my veins. Was he trying to tell me that our relationship would end like Jason’s and Medea’s?
Xeno continued with his story. ‘Centuries later other groups of Greeks reached the land of Medea and founded a city at the mouth of this river, giving it the same name: Phasis. I know exactly where that city is. It’s on the coast of the Euxine sea, in a rich and fertile land. If we follow the river, that’s where we’ll end up, and our troubles will be over.’
‘And when we’ve arrived at the city of Phasis, what will we do?’
Xeno sighed. ‘We don’t even know if we’ll still be alive tomorrow, and you’re asking me what will we do then? We’ll try to survive, Abira, one day at a time. We’ll think about the rest when the time comes.’
All at once the serene vision I’d had of our immediate future dimmed, like the sky above us. The silence between us weighed heavily and I tried to return to our conversation.
‘So Sophos is happy with your idea?’
‘He agrees with me. He’s ready to support me in every way.’
‘What about the others?’
‘You want to know too much.’
‘Well, what about the others?’ I repeated.
Xeno hesitated, then gave in. ‘They’re against it. Not one of the other generals is convinced of this decision. We quarrelled about it, and a fight nearly broke out. Even Glous showed up, I hadn’t seen him for a long time, and he was against it as well. But I was firm, and I’ve got Chirisophus’s backing. We’re going where I say. There is no river that doesn’t lead to the sea. And this one goes to our sea.’
‘May the gods hear you,’ I said, and then fell silent. Down deep, I wasn’t convinced either.
Next day we resumed our march, but there was no enthusiasm, no determination. Xanthi, Timas, Agasias and Cleanor must have spoken with their subordinate officers, who must have informed the men. We were heading east, and that was where the Persian empire lay, everyone was well aware of it. But perhaps we’d never left. Perhaps we were still within the territory of the Great King. Maybe the whole earth, except for the land of the Greeks, belonged to the Great King.
One evening we reached the foot of a pass swarming with warriors who were barring our way. It was happening again. The same thing that had happened over and over. In that mountainous land, every valley was a territory unto itself, a little homeland that had to be defended tooth and nail. And that we had to take by force. How many valleys lay between us and the sea? How many passes would we have to seize? How many villages would we sack? I forced myself to scan the endless sweep of mountaintops, of snowy peaks, of shimmering waterfalls and turbulent rivers, and I couldn’t imagine the end. Not even Xeno, Xeno who knew everything, could tell me how many rocky cliffs we’d have to climb before we saw the glittering waters of the sea. That sea that I’d never seen, and that I was beginning to think I never would.
The river . . . it was close at times, other times it would meander away, but we never lost sight of it. It was our guide, the liquid, wavy path that would one day lead us to flowery meadows caressed by the gentle breezes of spring, where Lystra would watch her child take his first steps.
I heard a shout, a curt order, and then the yelling of thousands of men and the deafening din made by the warriors’ weapons as they charged. The commanders seemed to be running a game. They moved units from one area to another, made feint attacks only to withdraw and regroup the forces elsewhere, where they could deal the killing blow. It was like a hunting party, with the results taken for granted. I watched Xanthi striking with devastating power, Timas advancing at a run upslope, urging on his men, Cleanor dashing head-first behind his shield, overwhelming any obstacle, Xeno riding by with his spear held high, and all the others too, the heroes of that lost army: Aristonymus of Methydria, Agasias of Stymphalus, Lycius of Syracuse, Eurylochus of Lusia, Callimachus . . . I recognized them all, from the timbre of their voices, the way they gesticulated, that way they had of charging into the fray, calling back and forth amongst themselves. They were lions set free in the midst of a flock of sheep. No one could withstand them.
Before night fell, the defenders of the mountain pass lay strewn over the slope, each man where the fatal blow had found him. Our men camped at the pass, to guard it.
The women and the baggage animals arrived later, only when the reflection of the moon on the snow allowed us to follow the path. On the other side of the pass, there were dark spots scattered over the white expanse: villages and fortified settlements, standing each one on its own craggy rise. The provisions we’d taken from the Armenian villages were almost gone: the army was hungry.
The next morning at dawn, Sophos ordered that everything that was left to eat be distributed among the men, and then had the trumpets sound the attack.
The army encircled the villages one by one. The skirmishers went first, testing the inhabitants’ strategies of defence by attacking and withdrawing in waves, forcing the defenders into countering with arrows, darts and stones, primitive weapons and largely ineffective. Then they sent in the heavy infantry. I watched Cleonimus, Agasias and Eurylochus pounding in their heavy armour up the ramp that led to the village gate as if they were athletes running a mad race. Overtaking one another, pushing each other out of the way with shouts and laughter, crashing through the trellised gates with a mere shove of their shields, opening the way for their unleashed comrades.
It was there that I realized how far the love of liberty, the attachment to one’s homeland, the terror of an unknown enemy, could push people.
I saw the village women hurling their own children over the city walls onto the cliffs below and then following them to their fate, dashed upon the sharp rocks. And I saw the men, having fought to the last moment, their weapons chipped and broken, every possibility exhausted, joining their brides and their children.
After getting their fill of plunder the army went beyond the villages, always continuing along the river, always heading east.
We advanced for days without ever stopping, passing close to the other mountain we’d seen so long ago, at dawn, sparkling on the horizon like a precious jewel. It was immense. Its peak pierced the clouds and its flanks, furrowed in black, rose majestically over the vast highlands crossed by the river.
Then it began to snow, in big flakes, over the boundless, silent plain, for a day and a night without pause. Or maybe it was two days, or three: those terrible days have become confused in my mind, lost to my memory. The only thing I recall clearly is that we lost a servant to the blizzard.
The next morning, Lystra went into labour. I was hoping it would all be
over before the soldiers had finished eating, or while they were breaking camp and preparing to march. I’d had our surviving servant fix a pallet of woven straw between two poles that could be attached to one of the mules, thinking that the animal could tow it or drag it along so she’d have a place to lie with her baby when it was born. But things did not go as I’d hoped. Her pains were prolonged; the contractions were strong, and she cried out with every spasm, but the child would not come into the light. Xeno arrived already armed and holding his horse by its reins. ‘What can you do? We have to get moving, you can’t make the whole army wait.’
‘I won’t leave her behind in these conditions! The wolves would tear her to shreds. She’s giving birth, can’t you see that?’
‘I’ll have her helped onto the stretcher, but we have to go.’
‘No! The baby is coming, she has to be able to lie down and be still. It won’t take long. You go ahead, leave me the servant and the mule with the stretcher. We’ll catch up to you. It won’t be hard to follow your prints in the snow.’
Xeno was loath to leave me there, but he agreed in the end, knowing how strong I was and how used to adversity, by then. ‘Don’t do anything foolish, be careful!’ he said as he waved goodbye. He urged his horse alongside the column so he could reach the head, where his scouts were.
It was still snowing, and the sounds of the army on the march were fading. The servant was worried and tense. ‘Let’s go now,’ he kept saying. ‘We can’t wait any longer. If we lose contact, we’re done for.’
‘It won’t be long now, the baby will be coming soon, very soon,’ I answered with ever-lessening conviction. I tried to help her. I pressed down on her belly. I shouted and pleaded. ‘Push! Come on, you poor little strumpet. Push out that baby, the child of a thousand fathers!’ With every passing instant I felt more impotent and gripped by anguish. The realization that we were not winning this battle against time made me feel like I was suffocating.
The Lost Army Page 30