Scythian Trilogy Book 2: The Golden King

by Max Overton

  "What gives you the right to decide?" grated Timon. "My lord Nikometros outranks you among the Massegetae, he was blood-brother to their chief, and war-leader."

  Nikometros reached over and tugged at Timon's arm. "Hush, Timon," he chided weakly. "Parasades knows what he's doing."

  "Indeed," commented Parasades. "In case you hadn't noticed, Timon, we're not among the Massegetae. The chief is dead," he inclined his head toward Tomyra. "Forgive me, lady...severing all ties of brotherhood and Areipithes leads the tribe as king and war-leader. Your lord is a leader without a people."

  "Not quite," said Tomyra softly. "As long as I live there will be those who will follow his lead."

  "Just so," added Bithyia. Sarmatia, Prithia and Agarus nodded, murmuring support. Certes looked uncomfortable, avoiding Prithia's questioning eyes.

  "Where do your loyalties lie, my lord?" asked Tomyra quietly. "Perhaps it is time for you to declare them."

  Parasades sat silently, staring out over the plains. "I?" he said slowly. "You question my loyalty?" He stirred and swung round suddenly, making his horse whinny and sidestep. "My loyalty lies with the People. With our chief dead and his power usurped I will fight to restore law to the Massegetae." He guided his horse close to Tomyra. "What I won't do," he said, "Is hand over my people to an outlander, a foreigner." His hand gripped his sword hilt and he half drew the blade. "I would kill him now rather than allow that."

  Timon gave a roar of rage and swung his horse around, interposing his bulk between Parasades and Nikometros. Nikometros called weakly for calm but his voice was lost among the confusion. The others milled uncertainly and Tomyra had to raise her voice to be heard.

  "It won't come to that, my lord," she called. "The Mother has a purpose for him but it lies elsewhere. The People are not his concern." She pushed closer, forcing her way between the two men. "Do you hear me? His fate lies elsewhere."

  Parasades glared at Timon and the reeling figure of Nikometros on his great stallion. He rammed his sword back into its sheath. "Very well," he snarled. "I shall hold you...and the Mother, to that promise."

  Silence fell over the small group of riders, and into the silence intruded a calm voice.

  "Please make no sudden moves. My men have arrows aimed at every one of you."

  For a long moment no one moved. Then with a flurry of motion Timon leapt from his horse, bearing Nikometros to the ground, shielding him with his body. His sword rasped from its sheath and he peered into the darkness, searching for the source of the voice. At the same time, Tomyra and her women pushed their horses forward, blocking the two men on the ground from immediate danger. Tomyra's hand leapt to her dagger and she fingered it beneath her robe, her breath coming fast.

  Parasades gave a wry smile, masked by the night, and barked out an order to Certes and Agarus as they drew their weapons, wildly looking around. "Hold, you fools!" He held up a hand in the darkness and called out. "Who seeks to challenge us?"

  A low chuckle answered him, picked up by other voices around them. "More to the point, traveler," came the voice again. "Who is it that dares trespass on our lands?"

  "Your lands?" asked Parasades quietly. "You are Jartai?"

  "Who wants to know?" enquired the voice curiously. "You don't have the sound of the western tribes, though you ford the river at night. You speak the Massegetae tongue." The voice flattened and became colder. "Are you loyal to Areipithes or do you defy him?"

  Parasades pursed his lips, drawing out the silence. At length, he spoke matter-of-factly. "The Jartai once swore allegiance to the Massegetae, when the Wolf was defeated. Do the Jartai hold true to their oath?"

  "We're not oath-breakers," growled the voice. The unseen horsemen around the little group shifted, leather creaking as they realigned their weapons. A feeling of menace washed over Parasades.

  "So you're followers of Areipithes." Parasades made his hand move slowly toward his sword, feeling the bitter taste of defeat and death creep over him. We have no chance, he thought, yet I cannot just surrender. He muttered a swift prayer to the Great Goddess, gathering himself for his last battle.

  "We follow no one but Lugartes, our chief," rasped the voice. "Where he goes, we go."

  "Lugartes?" quavered a weak voice from the darkness near the Massegetae warrior. "How is my friend Lugartes? Does Ket still live with him?"

  "Who calls Lugartes, friend? Stand forth and declare yourself."

  Nikometros pushed himself up and shoved Timon to one side. He stumbled out from behind Tomyra's horse and stood shakily in the open. "I call him friend."

  "And who are you?"

  "My name is Nikometros, son of Leonnatos. I count Lugartes among my friends."

  "Niko...? Nikomayros? The Lion?" The voice sounded doubtful. Movement in the shadows and the form of a horseman loomed over the thin figure of the Greek. "You're the one they call the Lion?"

  Timon pushed his way to stand beside Nikometros. "Aye, he's the Lion, and my lord. If you seek to harm him you must pass by me first."

  "I shall not harm him, loyal one." The rider paused. "Neither shall I let you pass though. Lugartes himself must decide your fate." He turned and snapped out a series of commands. The unseen riders moved closer, surrounding the small huddled group, weapons openly displayed. "Please give up your weapons," the rider went on. "You are now under the protection of the Jartai, within our lands. No harm will come to you from others."

  Parasades drew his sword slowly and passed it over, with obvious reluctance. The others followed suit, though Tomyra kept her dagger out of sight beneath her cloak. When one of the Jartai warriors tried to search her, she hissed at him. "I am a priestess of the Mother Goddess. You touch me at your peril." The warrior drew back in confusion and the leader signed him away.

  "A priestess?" he said. "With the Lion? Curious." He ordered his men into a column and they started out across the plains, away from the river, into the rising moon. "I regret we cannot spend time feeding you or getting you dry after your swim. Wait until morning and you will have all the time you need...should Lugartes grant you life."

  "You are kind," said Parasades dryly. "What's your name, that I may commend you to your chief?"

  "I am Jaxes, first of his commanders," said the man. "Now, be silent. We ride."

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  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Jartai village lay at the confluence of two small rivers, the Spagus and the Purul, which joined to become a tributary of the Oxus, about a day's travel east of the main river. The village itself was fortified, a double barrier of sharpened stakes extending across the narrow spit of land, broken only by a single gate. The rivers, at the point where they joined, were deep and slow moving. Steep banks prevented access by any save the most determined invaders. A resolute attacker though, would have been extremely vulnerable as he struggled up those slippery banks.

  The village was crowded, the wooden buildings forming huge sprawling edifices with many families sharing a single structure. The Jartai, unlike many other Scythian tribes, were only semi-nomadic, spending most of the year within a few days travel of their village.

  Timon reined in his horse and stared down at the village from a low hill overlooking the rivers. His recent travels gave him now a broader perspective of Scythian ways. Many of the northern tribes were wholly nomadic, wandering where the grazing was best. The Massegetae and Serratae, he knew, lived in towns or cities, but only over the winter months. When the flush of spring growth swept over the plains, the tribesmen gathered their vast herds of horses and cattle and moved north in a great meandering migration. In the autumn months, as the weather cooled, they wandered back to their winter quarters to spend the snow months making and repairing weapons, fashioning complex jewelry from the alluvial gold of their rivers and generally relaxing.

  The cities were not wholly abandoned during the months of migration. A separate grouping of tribes-people had split off over time. No longer content to wander the plains, one
part settled more or less permanently in the towns, trading in goods, farming and providing a variety of services for the true nomads. As with people everywhere, each group now regarded itself as the true Scythian people and the others as barely tolerated semi-barbarians.

  The Jartai patrol of Jaxes trotted down the hill toward the village, the strangers carefully shielded in their midst. They forded the southern river at a guarded shallow where a well-worn road indicated considerable intercourse between town and country. The news of the capture sped from post to post as they advanced, and by the time they walked their horses through the open gate, a large crowd had gathered to gawk.

  Jaxes ushered his prisoners into the town and ordered them to dismount in the central public square. Their horses were led aside and they stood uncertainly, staring back at the crowd that surrounded them. Here and there, voices rose above the general hubbub, most raised in incredulous recognition. People called out Nikometros' name, waving to attract his attention.

  "I don't see anyone I recognise," muttered Nikometros to Timon. "I thought I would."

  "Let us hope their chief still counts you as a friend, my lord," growled Timon. "Where in Hades is he anyway?"

  The crowd parted as he spoke and a small body of men pushed their way through. A burly man dressed in fine embroidered clothing led the group. He pushed out into the open and stopped, looking at the captives with his head cocked on one side.

  "Nikomayros? Is it truly you?" he asked.

  Nikometros stepped forward shakily, holding onto Timon's arm for support. "Lugartes, my friend. It's good to see you."

  Lugartes nodded and frowned. "You are changed, Lion. These past months haven't been kind to you." His eyes flicked over Niko's companions. "Nor to those who follow you."

  "In adversity, one knows one's true friends," said Nikometros in a soft voice.

  Lugartes looked away, his eyes moving restlessly over the crowd of Jartai. "These are indeed difficult times," he murmured. He coughed and turned back to Nikometros, raising his voice so all could hear. "Come to my tent, all of you. Let me refresh you with food and drink and you can give me the news." Lugartes turned and moved resolutely off into the crowd, which parted before him.

  Jaxes and his men formed a cordon around the Massegetae and Greeks and hurriedly ushered them along in their leader's wake. The procession, with a large part of the crowd following, ended at a richly appointed tent on the north side of the village. Jaxes formed his men outside as a guard and led the others into the tent.

  Inside, the tent boasted a thick, warm carpet and heavy drapes that wrapped the interior in a heavy gloom. Several smoldering braziers gave off a wash of heat and oil lamps shed a soft yellow light, revealing a trestle table, a bench and several stools. Piles of cushions and rugs in a far corner served as bedding. A young girl, nestled in the rugs, hurriedly threw on a shift and scrambled out of the tent as they entered.

  Timon half-carried Nikometros to the bench and seated him, sitting down beside him with an arm around him for support. Tomyra crossed to his other side and sat down too, her eyes bright with concern. She straightened the dressing on his shoulder, noting with dismay blossoms of fresh blood on the cloth. Nikometros panted heavily, sweat beading his pale forehead. The women gathered behind and beside their mistress, looking alert and watchful. Parasades and Certes moved off to one side and squatted, staring at Lugartes. Agarus moved uncertainly then rapidly hobbled forward and slumped to the carpet by Nikometros' feet.

  Jaxes busied himself at the trestle table as servants brought in food and drink. He poured out cups of koumiss and passed around platters of meat and bread. Parasades and Certes immediately started eating, while Tomyra sipped at her cup, her eyes on Lugartes.

  Nikometros waved the food and drink away. "Lugartes," he asked softly. "Has our friendship died?"

  Lugartes looked uncomfortable. "It is not a simple matter."

  "That is exactly what it is for me," replied Nikometros. "What has complicated it for you?"

  "You have powerful enemies, Lion."

  Nikometros nodded slowly but did not speak. After a long pause, Lugartes resumed.

  "Areipithes now leads the Massegetae. He demands the Jartai remember their oath of fealty. He demands the surrender, to him, of his enemies. He names you, Lion, and," Lugartes nodded in the direction of Parasades, "This one."

  "And how have you answered him?"

  Lugartes shrugged. "I denied all knowledge of your whereabouts. It was the truth." He took a deep breath and started pacing, his agitation showing. "Now he'll learn of your...capture. He has spies even in my village. He'll demand I hand you over."

  "And you'll do this? Our friendship means nothing to you?"

  Lugartes stopped in front of Nikometros, his hands moving restlessly over each other. "The Jartai are a weak people. How can we stand against Areipithes? I must consider my people." His voice trembled and he looked at his audience beseechingly. He flinched from Timon's expression and stumbled on. "I'm ashamed, Nikomayros, but how can I fight Areipithes? He's too strong."

  "Have you forgotten it was this man here who defeated your people less than a year ago?" demanded Parasades. "Nikomayros led the charge that routed the Wolf and led to you becoming chief."

  Lugartes shook his head. "I haven't forgotten. Why do you think I have delayed sending word south?" He wrung his hands, his face taking on an agonised expression. "I want to stand with you against Areipithes but how can I? Look at him! Look at this Lion of Scythia. He cannot even stand by himself but must be helped by a woman. He has no army, no force of inspired young men to fight for him." Lugartes buried his face in his hands. "If I openly support the Lion, my days as chief are numbered."

  "Perhaps it would be better if they were, my lord," rumbled Jaxes. "Better we all die as honourable men than live in shame because we fear the usurper. Would you return us to the days of the Wolf?"

  Lugartes gaped at his lieutenant. "You would turn on me, Jaxes?"

  "No, lord. I've given you my oath and I will not forswear myself. But lord, consider. Will any hold the Jartai name in honour if this friend, this supplicant, is betrayed?" The man shook his head. "Better an honourable death."

  "You cannot be serious, Jaxes." Lugartes backed away from his subordinate, a look of puzzled horror on his face. "You would destroy our people for one man?"

  "Not for one man," said Jaxes. "Not for any man, lord. But for the honour of our people, yes, I would risk all. If you won't take my word, ask of your councilors."

  Lugartes gulped and opened his mouth, croaking out "Guards!" He swallowed then straightened and called out again, more loudly. "Guards!" A warrior ducked his head into the tent, a spear at the ready.

  "Send for my council of elders," barked Lugartes, "Hurry!"

  "My lord," stammered the guard. "They're outside already...at least some are, my lord...I..." The guard ducked out again, flushing in confusion. A minute later a group of five men, burly and well fed, dressed in brightly coloured embroidered felts pushed into the tent. Three of them pressed forward, questioning expressions on their faces.

  "Ah, Sopartos, Lucos, Teraxes." Lugartes beckoned them over and waved a hand at the men and women in his tent. "We have a problem and I need your counsel."

  Lucos nodded solemnly. "That is our function, my lord. What is the nature of the problem?"

  "It's to do with the Lion, isn't it my lord?" grinned Sopartos. "The town is aflame with news of his coming." He smiled broadly at Nikometros. "Welcome, Lion. It's good to see you once more."

  "No, no!" cried Lugartes in agitation. "He'll bring about our ruin unless we act carefully."

  Sopartos frowned. "How?"

  "A serious matter," conceded Teraxes. "But he's a friend of the Jartai, isn't he?"

  "Our chief believes we must hand over the Lion to the usurper," growled Jaxes. "He won't listen to my pleas for honour. Counsel him, brothers."

  "Your comments border on disrespect, Jaxes," said Sopartos disapprovingly. He turned to L
ugartes and bowed. "Please lord, honour us with your thoughts that we may weigh them."

  Lugartes flashed a bitter look at Jaxes then advanced toward his three councilors, arms outstretched. "My friends, hear me. You all know of our situation. Since the Massegetae defeated us in battle, freeing us from the tyranny of the Wolf, we have lived quietly, peacefully. We have been able to do this because Spargises, chief of the Massegetae, treated us with honour and welcomed us as brothers." He started pacing up and down in front of his councilors. The other two junior officers who had entered the tent drew nearer, exchanging worried looks.

  "Now Spargises lies dead and his son Areipithes holds the power. He makes demands of us and backs his demands with his army. He asks for this man," Lugartes pointed at Nikometros, "To be handed over to him." He paused and looked around the group. Lugartes caught Jaxes' glowering eyes and dropped his gaze, flushing beneath his beard. "You know we are not strong enough to defy Areipithes. We must preserve our people by acquiescing to his demands, distasteful though they be."

  Parasades snorted softly in the silence that followed the chief's speech. The others sat or stood quietly, waiting for the response of the councilors. It was not long coming.

  "I have made my view plain," growled Jaxes. "We cannot in honour hand over the Lion to his enemy. We must defy Areipithes."

  "Softly, Jaxes," said Lucos. "We must discuss this fully."

  Teraxes nodded. "Yes, decisions should not be made hastily."

  "You would betray the Lion, a proven friend of the Jartai, to our common enemy?"

  Teraxes scowled. "I lost a son in that battle, Jaxes. Was that the act of a friend?"

  "You know as well as I do that your son fell in defence of the Wolf, as did many of our people," replied Jaxes. "Blame their deaths on him rather than the Lion. He--and Spargises--have treated our people with justice and generosity."

  "That is true." Lucos nodded slowly. "The Lion has shown himself a friend of the Jartai. Perhaps friend enough to sacrifice himself for our common good?"