Tyrant: King of the Bosporus

by Christian Cameron

  Temerix shook his head. ‘When you undertook this war, you promised the farmers that you would win.’ His eyes were accusing. ‘We are not your pawns to stand in that fort ringed by enemies, while your precious Sakje ride the plains, free. If we lose this war, we will be dead, or slaves.’

  Melitta drew herself up. ‘Temerix, you are tired. We all are. Do not do this. We are close – we are so close.’ She looked at the two of them. ‘By the gods – we are not beaten. We are fighting a bloody delaying action, and we knew that it would be like this.’

  Ataelus shook his head. ‘Samahe says that there is talk. That some of Marthax’s chieftains talk of riding away. When there is talk like that, it is best to move first, so that they feel that their grievances got to your ear – and yet you don’t seem to have swayed in the wind but made your own way.’ He shrugged. ‘It is the Sakje way. Your mother knew it.’

  Melitta was tired. She had shot a hundred arrows in four days, and twice she’d been sword to sword with an enemy. Her vision was odd, her bones weary, and when she pissed, there was blood and she didn’t know why.

  ‘Gather my chiefs,’ Melitta said. ‘Temerix, gather your principal men.’

  ‘We will have a council?’ Temerix asked.

  ‘No,’ Melitta said.

  They made a huge fire, consuming an old oak tree entire in a few hours of warmth and light. The nights were warm now, but not so warm that men and women didn’t value a fire nearby and a cup of warm cider or mulled wine. And the fire was big enough to burn hot even in the rain.

  It was full dark – a time when exhausted fighters rolled in their damp furs and Greek blankets and tried to snatch a few hours of haunted sleep before rising in the first grey day to kill and be killed again. Fighters in total war do not come eagerly to council. Words are no longer the coin of decision, and all a warrior wants is wine to dull the aches and sleep. Oblivion.

  Melitta knew this. She walked among them, taking the mood, and it was bad. And then she stood on a stump and called for silence.

  There was a buzz as talk died.

  ‘Silence!’ she roared. Every head turned to her, and men flinched. She wished that she had had time to change out of her armour, which weighed on her like a skin of lead, or even to rebraid her hair, to appear as a queen instead of as a tousled mouse in scale mail.

  She wished she had something heartening to say.

  ‘My brother is coming,’ she said. As soon as she said it, she knew that she had said the right thing, so she said it again. ‘My brother is coming with fifty ships and three thousand men. Hardened fighters – my father’s men. We must hold out until they arrive. If we surrender the valley of the Tanais, then all this was for nothing. Every man, every woman and child who died, sky people and dirt people – all for nothing.’

  ‘We don’t have any arrows left,’ a voice called. One of Buirtevaert’s leaders.

  ‘Half my riders have wounds,’ called another. Both Standing Horses. Men who had followed Marthax against her mother.

  Melitta struggled with anger, disappointment and fear. And won. Anger wouldn’t sway them. They could answer anger with anger. But a little derision . . . ‘I have wounds on half my body,’ Melitta answered, her voice strong. ‘I piss blood. You, boy? Do you piss blood?’

  ‘I’m no boy!’ the young man called, but the other warriors grunted, and a few laughed.

  Buirtevaert was close to her. ‘I have pissed blood,’ he said. ‘It passes.’ He nodded. ‘My clan is hurt, lady. I have taken deaths. I have lost horses.’

  Melitta looked at him. ‘Hurts heal,’ she said. ‘Until we take our death blow, we heal.’

  ‘That’s what they fear,’ Scopasis said behind her. His voice was quiet – advising, not deriding. ‘They fear that this is the last stand of the Sakje.’

  She raised her voice, and it was firm. ‘When we have defeated Upazan, we will grow our strength back. We will not waste the peace that we must buy in blood. But we must complete the job. Another week. Another few days, and my brother will come.’

  ‘What if he does not come?’ Buirtevaert asked. He looked apologetic. ‘I must ask, lady. All here follow you willingly, but we lead clans and we are the men – and women – who must keep our people alive.’

  Temerix pushed forward. He was big, bigger than most Sakje, and his black beard shot with grey shone in the firelight. ‘Then we die. All of us die together. Earth people and sky people. If Satyrus does not come, we are dead.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ called a voice from the darkness.

  ‘But he will come,’ Melitta said.

  ‘If only we knew that,’ Ataelus muttered.

  ‘Where are the other clans?’ the catcalling voice asked. ‘Where are the Grass Cats? Where are the Stalking Crows or the Silent Wolves? Where is the strength of the Cruel Hands? Why are we fighting this war alone?’

  Melitta took a deep breath to steady her voice. ‘Why don’t you come into the firelight and talk?’ She looked for the voice. ‘It’s very safe out there in the dark, I suppose.’

  Graethe, the chief of the Standing Horse, came into the firelight. ‘I had a spot I liked, lady. I have no need to hide. I ask the questions every Sakje asks. And I’ll add another – why should we die for the dirt people?’

  Temerix grunted.

  Ataelus put a hand on his shoulder, and Graethe smiled. He turned to the crowd. ‘The farmers cannot defend themselves, and we are too few to defend them. It is time to end this foolish war – a war Marthax was too wise to undertake – and ride away, as our fathers did from the Medes and Persians. Why are we fighting this war alone? Is it perhaps because—?’ Graethe smiled like a fox, but he was interrupted by a voice from beyond the fire.

  ‘You are not alone,’ the voice said. ‘Urvara is three days’ march away, with Eumenes of Olbia and five thousand men.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Graethe asked, but the voice went on.

  ‘You are not alone, because the war fleet of Satyrus has sailed, and Nikephoros is about to be trapped on the beach.’ Coenus emerged into the light, and he bowed to Melitta as soon as he entered the firelight. ‘I rode as hard as I could, and none too fast, I see.’

  Men crowded around him, and he embraced Ataelus and then Temerix, and then Scopasis.

  ‘Your brother sent me. He should be right behind me. When I set off, he was only awaiting the arrival of Diodorus to sail with sixty ships.’ He smiled. ‘And Eumenes is north of the Bay of Salmon and marching hard. He’s gathered the western clans and he has all the infantry of Olbia.’

  Melitta could tell that Coenus was unsure, or lying, but only because she’d known him all her life. And all the clan leaders were gathered around him, pressing close, as if his news brought them physical strength.

  Ataelus turned to her. ‘Now they will fight,’ he said. He watched for a while. ‘But not for long.’

  Melitta shrugged.

  Much later, when all of them had shared wine, and many of the Sakje had shared smoke, and they had fallen into their blankets, Melitta pulled a fur over her shoulders, cold even in high summer, and caught Coenus’s eye where he lingered by the fire. The two of them walked away from the fire and into the darkness. Scopasis made as if to follow, and she gave him a small sign and he went back to Samahe, where the two of them had been playing a game of polis on a blanket.

  ‘You were lying,’ she said, as soon as they were alone.

  Coenus shrugged. ‘Not lying, exactly.’

  ‘You are Greek. Greeks lie. Coenus, this is life and death for these people.’ Melitta shook her head. ‘Tell me the whole truth.’

  ‘Your brother is waiting for Diodorus, who is late. Very late. He has troubles with his captains, and trouble with Heraklea. It’s not pretty. But when I left, Nihmu and Crax had just ridden in from Diodorus. He should have sailed the day after I rode out – two days at the most.’ Coenus shrugged. ‘That’s not much of a lie.’

  ‘But you didn’t see him sail,’ Melitta said.

  ‘I saw U
rvara at the fort, and she said Eumenes was three days away and marching. And that was this morning. And she has three thousand horses and almost as many Sindi and Maeotae in the fort. Damn it, girl! In ten days, we’ll outnumber everything Eumeles and Nikephoros and Upazan can muster.’ Coenus grabbed her shoulders.

  Melitta pushed him away. ‘Don’t you get it? I’m risking people – real people – and they’re dying like houseflies at the end of summer. Why didn’t Urvara send those riders to me?’

  ‘Urvara is containing Nikephoros. Without her raids, his men would be all over the river, instead of just sending a boat or two to harass the farmers. Even outnumbered two to one, Urvara is keeping him busy.’ Coenus put his hands on his hips. ‘Keep it together, girl. The tide is turning.’

  ‘I am not girl. I am the lady.’ She shook her head. ‘By all the gods, Coenus, I am staking my people on Eumenes of Olbia and on my brother’s fleet. If they are late, we’re dead. We don’t have ten days. We have two days. In two days, we’ll be pushed back right into the fort, and then Upazan and Nikephoros join hands, and exterminate us.’

  Coenus rubbed his beard. ‘Well, lady – and I concede, you are lady, even to me – then we fight for two days with everything we have. And trust to the gods.’

  Melitta laughed. ‘T hat’s where I was, just a few hours ago. Now, all I see is the end. Perhaps Satyrus will come and destroy Eumeles after I am dead.’ She laughed, and it was a harsh sound. ‘Is this all there is, Coenus?’

  ‘I spurned command all my life, lady,’ he said, ‘because as far as I could see with my friend Kineas, that is all there is – one damned decision after another, and watching friends die, whether you made the right call or not. That’s how it has always looked to me.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to be queen of the Sakje,’ Melitta said.

  ‘Too late now,’ Coenus answered.

  Melitta left him then, her heart empty, unsure even of how much truth Coenus – her beloved uncle, the father of her first lover – was telling her. She walked away into the darkness, past the horse lines, watching the tail of the moon for a while. She wept a little.

  ‘Lady?’ Scopasis asked. He came out of the dark with a blanket. ‘You are troubled.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Melitta said savagely.

  Scopasis, the former outlaw, stood his ground. ‘Take the blanket,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need your help,’ she said. Mostly to herself.

  He held the blanket out mutely.

  She found herself inside the blanket, her arms around his chest, weeping, and he held her for a long time as she felt his warmth and comfort.

  ‘When I was outlawed,’ he said, ‘my anger kept me warm for a while, and then I was cold and alone.’

  She couldn’t see him, with her cheek pressed against the warm wool of his coat. She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, and they were silent.

  Finally he said, ‘I told all the people who tried to help me to fuck themselves,’ and laughed. Melitta wasn’t sure that she’d ever heard Scopasis laugh.

  ‘This makes you want to help people?’ she asked.

  ‘It makes me immune to people I love telling me to fuck off,’ he said.

  In the morning, Melitta was relacing her armour while Samahe did her hair. Scopasis didn’t seem to see her – he moved about, getting horses and preparing the bodyguard for another day of combat. They had thirty riders now, and Coenus joined them in full armour.

  Scopasis saluted. ‘You are back, lord.’

  Coenus nodded. ‘As a trooper, Scopasis. You are the captain now. Half these men barely know me, and frankly, if I have to tell Darax one more time how to do up his girth, I’ll kill him.’ Coenus grinned. ‘You’re the captain, lad. I’ll cover the lady and give her advice. You run the troop.’

  Scopasis gave the Greek man a hug. ‘You are like my second father.’

  Coenus didn’t deny it.

  After that exchange, Melitta managed to corner Scopasis while he rolled his blankets. ‘About last night,’ she said, the best opening she could manage after an hour of furious thinking.

  He looked at her, puzzled. ‘Last night?’ he asked.

  ‘I was—’ Melitta wanted to be clear about how much she valued the comfort he had offered, but that she was still his queen.

  ‘Darax!’ Scopasis called past her. ‘Look at the girth on that saddle-cloth. You are no use to the lady dangling under your horse! Get your arse over here and see to it. Now!’ His level gaze came back to hers. ‘I have no memory of last night, lady. Please do not embarrass me.’

  She met that gaze. ‘I’m surrounded by liars.’

  He shrugged. ‘Hmm,’ he grunted. ‘No man likes to be called a liar.’

  Coenus appeared at her elbow, making her flush. ‘If we lie to you, perhaps it’s for good reasons.’ He looked at the sky. ‘Dry day.’

  Ataelus came up, eyeing a new arrow, the fletches just dry. Melitta could smell the fish-glue. ‘A day for shooting,’ he said.

  Their first contact came almost immediately. Upazan’s advance guard came down the valley with the sun, flooding the farm fields on either side of the road. Temerix’s men had been up for hours, and they stayed on the ridges north of the river, showering the Sauromatae flanking parties with arrows and retreating beyond their reach. Today the Sauromatae seemed content to ignore the galling of their flanks. They pressed straight down the river, and the ground was dark with riders all the way back to the purple hills to the east.

  ‘Where did he get so many riders?’ Ataelus asked again.

  And then they were fighting.

  It was a swirling fight, where a warrior who slowed down to a trot was already dead. Today, the Sakje bowstrings were dry and the gut in the belly of their bows was flexible and hard, and their arrows lashed out from half a stade, pricking armoured men and slaying horses.

  Graethe surprised them all by leading the whole of his clan in an attack. The Sauromatae were spread wide, but their advance guard was thin and the main body was ten stades back. Graethe shot three thick volleys of arrows from the high ground on their left and then charged with five hundred warriors, pushing the Sauromatae down into the road.

  Ataelus watched him with a disapproving frown. But Coenus slapped his thigh. ‘He may be a big blowhard, but he’s our blowhard. Look – he’s lost honour, and he’s buying it back.’ Coenus looked at Melitta. ‘If it were me, I’d push right up the road now, and blow their advance guard back on their main body.’

  Ataelus shook his head. ‘We lose a hundred riders.’

  Coenus pulled his horse in. ‘Look, I get it. These are not professional soldiers and I am not throwing them away. But if we charge now, we can wreck Upazan for today. We won’t have to fight again until tomorrow. A day gained, and not an inch of ground lost. And then – listen! And then we get up in the dark and ride away, breaking contact, and make him face blank country and a new ambush.’

  Melitta raised her whip. ‘So we fought for the first three days, Coenus. Upazan ignores the damage and comes forward. He never hesitates. If we crush his advance guard, he’ll attack.’

  Ataelus pursed his lips. ‘Do it,’ he said. He waved at his own clansmen, and the wolf-tails waved.

  ‘Why?’ Melitta asked.

  ‘Because your brother is coming, and we are here to bleed Upazan,’ Ataelus said.

  They charged down the road and her well-armoured knights led the way. The Sauromatae didn’t make a stand until they had to, which was by a burned-out farm where the road pinched down by the riverbank. The crowd of routed Sauromatae couldn’t get through the gap, and the Sakje slaughtered them, killing a hundred in a minute.

  Melitta shot three arrows. Her knights kept between her and the panicked men, and she was glad.

  Upazan’s counter-attack was slow in coming, and the attack itself was hesitant. The first wave of riders were well armoured, some even having horse armour, but they weren’t immune to the powerful Sakje bows. The wave failed before a single l
ance made contact, and the attackers were harried again as they retired.

  As Upazan prepared his second attack, the Sakje melted away, conceding the ten stades of ground they had just won, and providing him with no target for his carefully assembled main attack. The sun was high as the Sauromatae came forward, big squadrons of heavily armoured men who were immediately galled by arrows from the Sindi, who couldn’t miss, shooting into the packed squadrons.

  But today they only shot once or twice, and then they ran back into their cover. And Upazan’s squadrons seemed unwilling or unable to follow. They were tentative in their approaches, bunching up on the road.

  In mid-afternoon, Ataelus led all of his clan forward in a raid, and they rode right across the line of the Sauromatae advance on fresh horses with full quivers, and the Sauromatae died. Not a rider pursued them as they rode by at a gallop, sometimes less than a horse-length from their enemies.

  Melitta watched as a flight of Sauromatae arrows landed short, just a single Sakje falling to lie in the untended wheat. There was no way the Sakje could save the body – a horde of vengeful Sauromatae fell on the downed rider and hacked it to bloody ruin.

  But the loss of that one rider seemed to take the life out of Ataelus’s raid, and they did little damage thereafter, although it became clear that the exhaustion was mutual. The Sauromatae army rolled to a stop well short of the Sakje camp, in a good position with abundant water, and they began to make camp before the sun was well down in the sky.

  Then Temerix led the farmers down from the hills, pouring arrows into the camp.

  Ataelus returned while the farmers shot their revenge into the invaders. His head was down.

  Coenus took his arm. ‘You reaped them! By Ares, Ataelus – they can’t take another day!’

  Ataelus raised his eyes, and they were dull, as if his soul was gone from his body. ‘Samahe is dead,’ he said.

  23

  Satyrus cursed every hour that it took them to unload the horses of the Exiles, but he could see the condition of the animals as they were pushed into the sea and swam weakly ashore, and he knew that Diodorus was right.