by Max Overton
As Thoas hustled the courier out of the door, Areipithes called him back. "Take this girl out too." He noticed Thoas' expression and grinned cruelly. "You won't have the time, Thoas. Give her to your men instead; she may be the last they get for a while." He listened and smiled as the door closed on the appreciative cries of the guards outside then dismissing everything else from his mind, Areipithes started pacing, his mind grappling with the logistical problems of fighting two wars at the same time.
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Chapter Thirty-One
Despondency hung over the encampment like the acrid pall of wood smoke that guttered from the damp wood. Several hundred men and women gathered in groups of ten or twenty on the loose shale slopes below the river bluffs. Campfires burned in the night, the darkness hardly alleviated by the reluctant flames, the gloom deepened by dense smoke. Meat heated slowly on spits, turned by slow moving men in wet clothing. Horses whickered and stamped in groups, hobbled against wandering, feeding on sparse grasses and the occasional handful of hay or grain scraped from the bottom of empty supply bags.
Close up against the cliffs, sheltered by a concavity so slight the westerly wind scarcely paused in its play with the plumes of smoke, sat Nikometros, head bowed and forehead furrowed in thought. Around him, staring moodily at the fire sat or stood his friends and leaders of the army so recently routed by Areipithes.
After two days of traveling west to the Oxus River then north along its banks, their numbers swelled by refugees, the Jartai survivors of the debacle halted at last. Many of the men were too weary to run farther, others were just too uncaring. If the enemy found them now then so be it, the gods had spoken, and here they would die.
A day later Nikometros and Parasades arrived, nearly four hundred strong, their men still alert and eager for battle. After the flight from the valley of Ubul-tagarn, Nikometros and Parasades galloped north, swinging east of the Jartai village to pick up Tomyra and her warrior maidens from their station guarding the Jartai herds. Moving north and west of the village, they sent word of the defeat and the imminent arrival of the Massegetae army. Some fled into the countryside but most stayed, not believing the foreigners. They would, they declared; await the arrival of their own Jartai men folk. Unable to convince them, Nikomayros moved away in front of the oncoming army, bitter at his failure to convince his Jartai friends.
North and west they rode, toward the river, eventually picking up the tracks of many horsemen. Now they camped, depressed and uncomfortable, to decide the future.
"At least they will give us some respite," growled Timon, his arm around Bithyia. He leaned over and kissed her damp hair, eliciting a weary smile from the young woman. "Gods, but these Jartai look like whipped dogs." He tossed his head in the general direction of the encampment.
"Not all of us," rumbled Jaxes. "Though I will admit I have seen morale higher." A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
A loud sneeze erupted from a bundle of rags hard against the cliff wall. It was followed by a sniffling mutter and the answering cry of a cat.
"Poor Ket," sighed Tomyra. "He cannot abide the wet and cold. He needs his hot lands and the sun."
"Better here in the wet than dry in the Jartai village," commented Parasades dryly. "If those reports are accurate, Areipithes has shown his true self for all to see." He snorted. "It will make our task the easier."
"That's my people you are talking about," said Jaxes. He shook his head. "I'm thankful now my wife died last year. I could not have borne it had she lived to suffer as so many others have. I grieve for my fellow tribesmen. Many have lost their families."
"I cannot believe even my brother would do such a thing," whispered Tomyra. She sat close to Nikometros but not touching. The small but definite distance between the man and woman drew concerned looks from those about them. If either Nikometros or Tomyra noticed the looks, however, they ignored them.
"It's war," stated Nikometros. "In the aftermath of battle, men's minds turn to other things. A disciplined army can be controlled. Alexander never allowed his men to pillage unless the enemy had proved themselves to be without honour." He poked at the smoldering embers with a bent stick, listening to the sizzle of drying wood. "In all my life I have only seen such things once. When Tyre fell, Alexander razed the city to the ground and crucified the survivors. He allowed the soldiers to do what they willed." Nikometros shook his head, his damp bronze locks tossing. "Maybe the Tyrian soldiers deserved it; certainly the women and children did not. I think Alexander lost his innocence at Tyre. Before that he saw war as a noble venture, after that only as a necessity."
"All of this is very interesting, Nikomayros," drawled Parasades, "But how does it help our situation? We know only too well Areipithes is a conqueror. Winning does give him certain rights."
"He has no right to slaughter and rape innocent women and children," hissed Tomyra. "Only barbarians act like that."
Parasades smiled and stretched out. His clothing steamed as the growing heat of the fire slowly drove the water out. "Barbarians, eh? Like our Greek friends from the west?" He lazily waved his hand in the direction of Nikometros and Timon. One of his men approached and coughed, waiting discreetly for his lord to notice him.
Parasades waved him forward and listened as the man bent and whispered in his ear. He raised an eyebrow and waved the man away. "I will see him later," he muttered.
"Not all of us act like that," replied Nikometros softly.
"I was forgetting," grinned Parasades. "We have a tame Greek. We should thank the civilising influence of our own dear priestess for that."
"Your words are offensive, Parasades," declared Tomyra. "My lord Nikomayros is his own man."
"And I find them offensive too," grated Timon. He rose and stared through the billows of smoke at Parasades. "You accuse Niko of dishonourable behavior, yet your own conduct is less than honourable."
Parasades' smile vanished and he tensed, sitting up from his sprawl. "What do you mean?"
"You were less than enthusiastic in rescuing Niko from the Serratae, despite declaring him your friend. You wanted to betray him to save your own skin."
"And yours, Timon. Not to mention our priestess who is precious to all of us." Parasades shrugged and yawned. "Besides, we all thought he was dying." He glanced over at Nikometros. "Sorry, my friend, but it's true. I wouldn't have bet even a broken-down nag on you living."
"I did not forsake him, but I have no doubt the lady Tomyra is much more important to you," went on Timon, his face turning red as his anger grew. "You seek power, not honour."
"What would you know of honour?" sneered Parasades. "You are but a common dirt soldier whereas I am a Scythian noble. My forefathers were chiefs."
"How did they get to be chiefs?" taunted Timon. "By betraying their masters?"
"Timon! Please! Settle down," pleaded Nikometros. "None of us gain by this."
"Aye, Timon. Don't rise to him," growled Tirses.
Timon ignored them, shaking off the restraining arm of Bithyia as well. "Nearly worked again at that Ubul place, did it not? Now I know why you were so slow to follow. Hoping Areipithes would do your work for you?"
"Be careful what you say, Greek," snarled Parasades, leaping to his feet.
"Timon! Enough!" roared Nikometros, also rising.
Timon strode around the fire, his face suffused with blood. "I say you deliberately hung back. You refused to join battle, hoping Niko would be killed."
"Are you calling me a traitor?" yelled Parasades. He drew his sword and swung at Timon with it, his face livid.
Timon dragged his own sword from his belt and leapt back, parrying the other man's blow. He stepped back again, retreating before Parasades' furious attack. Parasades slipped and almost fell on the loose shale of the hillside, allowing Timon to counterattack. The uproar and clash of steel brought men running from nearby campfires. They ringed the fighters, calling out encouragement to one or the other, inquiring of the c
ause of the fight.
Nikometros struggled through the cordon of watchers, yelling for Timon and Parasades to desist. Bithyia stood white-faced in the open circle, her hands clenching her bow, an arrow half strung. She raised and lowered it again uncertainly as the fighters circled and lunged. Tomyra stood beside her, calling to the fighters, pleading with them. Certes and Prithia swayed in the jostling crowd, agonised uncertainty washing over their faces.
Tirses watched avidly, excitement glowing in his eyes. "Take him, Timon," he muttered.
Timon lunged, passing close to Nikometros, who stepped out, deflecting Timon's sword arm upward and parrying Parasades' answering blow on his own blade.
"Enough!" yelled Nikometros. "Parasades, I will not allow this." He deliberately turned his back on Parasades and glared at Timon. "Put up your sword, Timon," he snapped.
Parasades, his face twitching with anger, hesitated. He half raised his sword at Nikometros' back then thought better of it. He swore and shoved his sword back in his belt and turned on his heel, pushing through the circle of soldiers.
Nikometros, having calmed Timon, called after the Scythian noble. "Parasades, come and sit with me. Do not let this misunderstanding come between us."
Parasades whirled. "Misunderstanding, Nikomayros? When he calls me a traitor? I think not." He tossed his head at the glowering figure of Timon, with Bithyia and Tomyra standing beside him at the fire's edge. "Will he apologise? Beg my forgiveness?" He waited several moments then snorted derisively. "I thought not." He turned and stalked into the darkness, Certes and several of his men hurrying after him.
"Where are you going, Parasades?" called Nikometros. "I have need of you here. There is much to plan."
"Then plan it yourself, Greek," called back Parasades from where he stood in the darkness, removing the hobble from his horse. "I will not stay with those who question my honour." He leapt upon his horse's back and jerked its head around, facing downhill. "I will therefore remove myself...and my men, from your untrusting presence." With a shout he spurred his horse down the rocky slope, followed a few moments later by Certes then swelling numbers of his men.
The surrounding soldiers wandered back to their fires, shaking their heads and muttering. Nikometros swore, kicking moodily at the loose rocks then sat down on a boulder near the fire and put his head in his hands. Tomyra consoled a weeping Prithia, quietly dissuading her from riding after her man.
Timon spat into the fire. "No great loss," he growled. "I never did trust the man and it seems I was right not to."
Nikometros raised his head and gave him a bleak look. "He has just taken a quarter of our forces and left. Do you think we can oppose Areipithes without him?"
"We are better off without him," said Timon stubbornly.
"We are, my lord," added Tirses.
Jaxes walked up, with two of his Jartai officers. "Nikomayros, I would talk with you."
Nikometros smiled and waved toward the strewn boulders. "Take your pick of a seat, my friend. I can only offer you a meagre hospitality I fear."
Jaxes nodded, unsmiling. He seated himself, as did his officers. After a short pause, Jaxes coughed and stared into the smoky fire. "He has left with one hundred of his men and rides south."
"He'll be back," replied Nikometros calmly. "When his anger cools he'll realise he acted hastily."
"I hope so." Jaxes paused again. "There's other news, my friend. I beg you not to show any alarm for the remains of my army are poised on the edge of despair." He caught the quizzical uplift of the other man's eyebrows and hurried on. "Yes, my army, Nikomayros. With Lugartes and Sopartos dead I have taken command of the Jartai. I will lead them into battle under your leadership."
Nikometros nodded wearily. "I know, my friend. I don't doubt you. But you spoke of other news?"
"The Dumae. You remember how Scolices..."
"That pile of turds?" snarled Timon. "A spy, straight from the side of his whore-master Areipithes." Tirses clenched his teeth and looked away, embarrassed.
"...told us his master and Nemathres were allies?" continued Jaxes. "He may have lied. Nemathres is camped less than half a day's travel north of here with his army. He comes in answer, he says, 'to an unasked-for favour'." Jaxes frowned. "Whose side is he on, Nikomayros? Whose favour is he answering? His men do not march as if prepared for battle."
Nikometros smiled uncertainly. "Nemathres? I would like to believe he wouldn't betray us. Yet I thought Lugartes a trusted friend. Even Parasades..." He broke off, shaking his head. "So he comes in response to an unspoken request? Let us pray to the gods it's our request he answers." He grimaced at Jaxes. "Pray he comes to help us. How many men does he have?"
"Nearly a thousand, I am told, though I have not seen them for myself."
"Gods! We must send envoys immediately, Jaxes. We must know whose side he fights on. Then we must decide how best we are to oppose our enemy, whether he be one or two."
"You must talk to the men, Nikomayros. They need to hear from your lips that their cause is not yet lost."
"I will," said Nikometros grimly. "At daybreak. Let them rest and eat for now, Jaxes, though do not neglect safety. Have sentries posted. And send those envoys to the Dumae now. I need to know by first light."
"I have already set sentries, my lord. I will see to the envoys now." Jaxes turned away, gesturing to his officers.
"So, my friends." Nikometros looked around the vaguely seen faces in the dimly lit campsite. "What are we to do? Give me your counsel."
The men and women around the fire sat silently, looking at one another for a few minutes. As the silence grew to an uncomfortable length, Tomyra coughed, partly due to the billowing smoke and said softly.
"We will do whatever you decide, Niko. You were elected war-leader to depose my brother from his throne. We will follow you in this."
Timon grunted. "Smash the bastard son of a whore," he growled. "If we cannot then leave these fornicating savages to it and go home."
Bithyia dropped her arm from Timon's shoulder. "Am I a savage too, Timon?" she asked in an angry voice. "These are my people. I am home already."
"Oh, turds!" muttered Timon. "I'm sorry, Bithyia. I was talking from anger. That traitor Parasades..."
"Anyone else?" inquired Nikometros. "Now is the time. Say whatever you're thinking, I need to know."
"Keep on fighting," said Tirses. "What else?"
"Whatever you decide," stated Jaxes calmly, "I will lead my Jartai against Areipithes. He has slaughtered my people and I will not rest until he is dead or we are."
Sarmatia nodded. "Yes, Nikomayros. We swore to avenge ourselves on the parricide. We'll follow you against him."
Nikometros looked around the circle, noting the determined looks on their faces. Prithia wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand and nodded. Agarus tapped his hand with the point of his dagger and grinned.
Ket shrugged. "I am no warrior but I will implore the gods for their favour. I am lost in a cold, wet land far away from their sunny homes but maybe they can still hear me."
Nikometros nodded. "Very well then. We continue to fight. Next question: how are we to do this?" He stood and raised a hand. "Our position isn't good. We have an army of uncertain enthusiasm numbering perhaps six hundred, seven if Parasades returns." Timon hawked and spat into the fire. "A thousand more if Nemathres joins us," Nikometros went on, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Together we still fall well short of Areipithes' army."
"We can take him," called Tirses confidently.
Nikometros shook his head. "If we face Areipithes head on, we'll lose. We have achieved a lot in a short time but the men are not disciplined enough for complex manoeuvers. We must find a way to draw him into a trap, to put him at a disadvantage then make good use of it. Any ideas?"
Jaxes thought for a moment then said slowly. "If we are to set a trap we must bait it. What is irresistible to Areipithes? What is it he wants?"
"Power, riches," grunted Timon. "What any Scythi
an noble wants."
"Yes," agreed Jaxes equably. "And time will give him that if he outlasts us. What does he want in the short term?"
"Me," said Tomyra simply, "And Niko. My brother will not rest easy until we are dead."
Nikometros nodded. "We are the only things that will draw Areipithes into a trap. So we must give him what he wants." He looked around the circle of faces. "I must put myself into a position where he feels he can take me."
"You joke with us, Niko!" exploded Timon. "There is no way you are baiting a trap with yourself."
"You cannot, my lord," added Tirses. "Who would lead our armies against the usurper whilst you are acting as bait?" He turned apologetically to the de facto Jartai chief. "Forgive me, Jaxes, but only the Jartai would follow you. And would any Jartai follow Timon or me? And what of the Dumae? Will they follow either of us?"
Jaxes nodded. "He is right, Nikomayros. Only one man holds this coalition of tribes together. You cannot be the bait in the trap."
Nikometros slumped down on his rock again and ran his fingers through his damp bronze hair. "Then how do we bait it?"
"There is but one way," Tomyra said.
Nikometros looked up at her set face. "No," he whispered.
"There is no other way," she repeated. "My brother desires our deaths. We cannot risk you, Niko. I am the only other choice."
"I won't risk you."
"You must. My brother will shy from anything that looks like a trap unless he reacts to the bait instantly, without thought. He'll do that if he thinks he can kill me or capture me."
Bithyia frowned. "My lady, there will be great danger."
Tomyra nodded. "Indeed. We mustn't underestimate Areipithes. Yet I will feel safe knowing my Niko is able to come to my rescue." She laughed nervously. "I wouldn't be able to rescue him were the roles reversed."
"No! I won't let you do this. I forbid it," snapped Nikometros.