Tyrant: Storm of Arrows

by Christian Cameron

  Leon smiled. ‘I’m not usually slow to close a deal,’ he said. ‘I had only thought to wait until the campaign was over.’

  ‘Listen, Numidian, if I were to offer you advice, I’d say this. Learn her bride price tonight. Make talk with Lot - ask obliquely. Buy the horses you need and picket them with his herd, and steal Mosva from her tent and put her in yours. Do it now.’

  Leon bowed. ‘I live to serve you, lady,’ he said.

  But Srayanka looked troubled.

  When they were gone, Kineas turned to Diodorus. ‘This is what comes of too much time idle. I want more patrols, south towards Alexander and east along our march route. And a scout - not Ataelus, he’s hurt - east, looking for waterholes and fodder. We need to move.’

  Diodorus scratched under his beard - a beard that was showing a surprising number of grey hairs. ‘You know that we bumped into some of Alexander’s scouts three days back, down by the Oxus.’

  Kineas had heard as much in the last rush of feast preparations. The encounter had been two days’ ride to the south - not close enough to threaten his camp, but close enough to get his attention. ‘I know. Get the scouts out. Most of our wounded are able to ride. I’d like to be out of this camp in two days.’

  Diodorus nodded. ‘Can’t be too soon.’

  Diodorus and Parshtaevalt organized a string of running patrols well to the south, covering a crescent of possible approaches between the Macedonians, the Persians and their camp. With the help of Lot’s Sauromatae, they had plenty of warriors to cover the patrols and the rotation helped relieve the punishing toll of ten thousand horses on the local grass, as well as the boredom. Kineas and Lot and Srayanka had much to arrange before they could make the final push over the Sogdian desert to join the Scythian muster.

  The next day, Diodorus and Ataelus pushed the eastern patrols out farther, clearing their route to their next fixed camp. They needed grass and water and a path free of enemies. It took a great deal of scouting.

  On the second day after the feast, Kineas summoned the officers and clan leaders to council in the cool of the afternoon. Then he sat with Leon, calculating supplies and fodder, and getting answers he did not like.

  Diodorus arrived in camp at midday, well before he was expected. He had a patrol of Olbians - his own troop, with twenty iron-faced Keltoi surrounding a group of dusty riders who appeared at first to be prisoners. Kineas began to approach and Diodorus waved him off, so Kineas went to the shade of the felt awning projecting from the rear of Srayanka’s wagon and poured himself a little wine. He poured more for Diodorus as he came in.

  ‘This will cut the dust,’ Kineas said.

  ‘I’m bringing trouble,’ Diodorus said. ‘Did you see who I brought in?’

  ‘Upazan?’ Kineas said.

  ‘The very same. Riding south with a war party. Not in our scout rotation. And frankly, he needs a hiding. He’s a bully and he’s bad for the discipline we’ve built among the Sakje.’

  Kineas shrugged. ‘Bring him.’

  He sent Samahe for Srayanka. She came with both children and Sappho, and they all took seats on the carpets of the tent. By the time they were settled, Upazan was brought in.

  He stood straight. His face had the natural sullenness of the adolescent, more out of place on an adult. He wore a magnificent coat of bronze scales plated in gold, and wore a golden boar atop his gold-covered bronze helmet.

  Kineas nodded. ‘I greet you, Upazan. May I serve you wine?’

  ‘I want no wine,’ Upazan said. ‘I want to ride free. Blood will flow for this insult.’

  Kineas nodded and turned to Leon. ‘Send Sitalkes for Prince Lot, with my respectful wish that he will come and help me deal with Upazan.’

  Leon nodded and left.

  Turning to Upazan, Kineas shrugged. ‘You spurn my courtesy, so I will waste no more time on it. You left camp without permission—’

  ‘I am Upazan of the Sauromatae, and I need no permission, Greek. I may ride where I please, raid where I please. Release me, or there will be blood.’

  Kineas sipped his own wine and then walked up close to the young man. Upazan was a finger’s-width taller, but they were of a size. Kineas stepped in close. ‘Whose blood, yearling? You cannot mean to threaten to bleed on me.’

  The roar of laughter did nothing to quench Upazan’s temper. Even his own followers laughed.

  Srayanka handed Lita to Sappho and rose. ‘Upazan, it is agreed by all the people who follow Kineas that they will accept his guidance on matters of war. Prince Lot has accepted. I have accepted.’

  Upazan shook his head. ‘I have not accepted. I have not seen any of his great skills.’ He spat and smiled, uncowed by Kineas’s nearness. ‘I will fight you, old man. Then perhaps I will take your horses. I need horses to buy the love of a grass priestess.’

  ‘She does not want you, Upazan,’ Srayanka said as Lot pushed in under the canopy.

  ‘It is of little matter to me. I will have her.’ Upazan raised his chin.

  Srayanka spoke slowly and clearly. ‘The woman you are speaking of is your mother’s sister’s daughter. She is not for you. She will go to be Leon’s wife.’

  Lot interrupted. ‘Your time with the Medes has made you forgetful of our ways, boy. No woman goes anywhere against her will.’ Lot gave a grim smile. ‘She might hurt you.’

  Upazan looked around. ‘You are all against me. Very well.’ He crossed his arms. He had dignity for a man so young and with so much anger. ‘Will you fight me, foreigner?’

  Leon shot to his feet. ‘I will fight you.’

  Kineas handed his wine cup to Leon. ‘This is a matter of discipline, not of revenge,’ he said to Leon. And then to Upazan, ‘Are you ready? The stakes are that when I win, you will swear to honour my orders. If you win, you will still follow my orders.’

  Upazan spat. ‘If I win, I will be king of the Sakje,’ he said.

  Kineas shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work that way, boy. Are you ready?’

  ‘Are you ready to be a widow?’ Upazan asked Srayanka.

  Kineas laughed. ‘No one is going to die, boy. Ready?’

  For the first time, Upazan hesitated - a tiny crack in his façade. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  ‘The time is now.’ Kineas took off his baldric and handed it to Leon, stripped his tunic over his head and stood naked.

  Upazan stepped back. ‘I have no weapons!’ he said.

  Kineas grinned. ‘You challenged me. Among Greeks - and Sakje - that gives me the choice of weapons. And I warned you, boy, that the next time you crossed me, I would beat you like a child. Now, are you ready?’

  Upazan narrowed his eyes while the women tittered at Kineas’s nudity. Samahe demanded that Upazan strip, too. ‘There are things Mosva needs to know!’ she called in a voice of brass.

  ‘This is not the fight I want!’ Upazan said. ‘This is the demeaning squabble of slaves!’

  Kineas nodded. ‘It is not the fight you want - I agree. So you may apologize and retract your challenge, or fight.’

  Upazan looked around for counsel - for the support of the men who had ridden with him. A few of them had come up, watched by the Keltoi, but their faces were carefully blank. Upazan opened his tunic and dropped it to the rugs. He had thick cords of muscles - even by Greek standards, he had a good physique.

  He raised his arms. ‘I am ready,’ he said.

  Upazan didn’t lack courage, and he was strong. But he was a poor wrestler and he had never even seen boxing.

  Kineas had almost finished before Philokles, a late arrival, finished his wine. Kineas took his time, trying to teach the boy how powerless he was - a life lesson the boy clearly needed. He took a blow - powerful but untrained - on the muscle of his arm and then locked the Sauromatae in a hold around his neck, turned his body so that the younger man had no purchase and then hit him once with his fist on the temple. Upazan fell unconscious from his arms.

  The Sakje and the Sauromatae joined in their applause, and Kineas was human en
ough to enjoy their praise while he strigilled with Philokles’ help, enjoying the clean smell of olive oil on his flesh. Srayanka watched him thoughtfully.

  ‘You are quite handsome,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘And the oil is strangely attractive.’ Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned. ‘But you would have done better to kill him.’

  Kineas shrugged. ‘I can’t kill him and keep the Sauromatae as allies.’

  Srayanka raised an eyebrow. ‘You can’t keep them anyway, my husband. And now - now he will be like a serpent.’ She frowned, her eyebrows a single line over her nose. ‘We had this conversation before. I was right then and I am still right.’

  Kineas shrugged. ‘Sometimes, you are like a Greek wife,’ he said.

  Philokles’ strigil found the bruise on his arm where Upazan had landed a blow, and he winced.

  Nihmu watched with ill-concealed glee. ‘Your mercy is wasted on him, lord,’ she said. ‘He has none for others!’

  ‘All the more reason for the strategos to show some mercy to him,’ Philokles said.

  The council gathered as the sun began to go down in the west. The air was almost cool and the dust of the day had settled. Kineas had Nicanor build a big fire in the clear ground behind Srayanka’s wagon and he arranged as many stools as he could find. The tribal leaders came in little knots, gossiping about the feast and about Upazan. Kineas noted that Parshtaevalt came with Ataelus and Leon, while Lot stood apart with Monae, his wife. Upazan did not attend. The Olbian officers were all there.

  Kineas rose after Nicanor had poured wine for them all. He made a libation, pouring the whole cup of good wine into the fire, so that a cloud of fragrant steam rose around him in the dark. ‘I begin to sing of Pallas Athena, the glorious goddess,’ he said, ‘bright-eyed, inventive, unbending of heart, pure virgin, saviour of cities, courageous, Tritogeneia. Wise Zeus himself bore her from his manful head, already armed in bronze and gold, and awe seized all the gods as they looked at her. But Athena stood before Zeus who holds the aegis, shaking a bright iron spear. Olympus shook at the warlike ardour of the bright grey eyes, and the earth all around the mountain cried fearfully, and the sea rolled and spat dark waves and foam in sudden torment, until the maiden Athena stripped the glorious bronze from her lovely shoulders. And wise Zeus was glad.

  ‘And so hail to you, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis! Now we will remember you.’

  Then he turned to his council. ‘It is time for us to go and fight Alexander,’ he said. ‘We are here to discuss who will go, and how we will go.’

  ‘We’re best off where we are,’ Lot said. ‘There’s no grazing east of here, and I’ve heard that the Massagetae camp and all the Scythians fill the vale of the Jaxartes, eating all the grass. Let us wait here until she summons us again.’

  ‘We wouldn’t even know if a battle took place,’ Srayanka shot back. ‘Zarina and the Jaxartes are ten days’ ride from here.’

  ‘Or more,’ said Ataelus.

  ‘We’re running out of grass already,’ Parshtaevalt said. He had aged quickly during Srayanka’s captivity, and unlike Upazan, he had never had any interest in rulership beyond his own concept of duty. ‘Already the herds are twenty stades from the camp.’ He gave a bitter smile. ‘I send my daughters to fetch my mounts every morning.’

  Srayanka nodded. ‘The grass is not of the best.’

  Lot glanced at his wife. ‘We are thinking of leaving our young and old with a guard and sending them back to our summer pasture,’ he said. He sounded apologetic.

  Srayanka surprised her husband by agreeing immediately. ‘We should do the same. We should transform ourselves into a great war host and not a movement of all the people.’

  ‘The warriors left behind will be bitter,’ Parshtaevalt said. ‘They will miss the great battle.’

  Srayanka shook her head. ‘Let every warrior left behind be one who served at the Ford of the River God,’ she said. ‘And let them console themselves with remaining alive.’

  Kineas approved, but he leaned over to her and whispered, ‘So we leave our veterans? And take only the young?’

  She shook her head. ‘We take our best, and then leave a tithe of our best as guards. It is the way. Those who stay behind are chosen by chance from those who are picked to go. Do you understand?’ She looked at him gravely. ‘And if we are badly defeated, the people will yet have an army of proven warriors.’

  Kineas nodded. ‘A very good system. Yes, I understand.’ He smiled. ‘I understand that I have much to learn if I am to act as the king!’

  Srayanka shrugged. ‘No more than any man,’ she said. ‘Or woman!’

  Lot rubbed his beard. ‘I fear we cannot host you on our summer grazing,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. There is hard feeling because of the boy - Upazan, despite his hot head, has many friends. But more, we have many horses - more than I can ever remember.’ He rocked his head back and forth in self-mockery. ‘I must be a good prince.’

  Srayanka looked at Kineas. Kineas took a sip of wine - it was almost gone - and nodded. ‘I think our own people should start west,’ Kineas said.

  There was murmuring from all around the fire.

  Srayanka looked surprised. ‘Now?’ she asked.

  Kineas nodded. ‘Now. If they go soon, and stay on the move, they’ll have no fodder problem. Three months will see them at the fort on the Rha. Messengers can tell Crax to buy grain against the winter, and the high plains will have abundant grass in the spring.’ He looked at Lot. ‘I think we should travel separately - not because of your foolish nephew, but because that’s the way we’ve crossed the bad ground to get here. I want to talk about the route.’

  Lot nodded.

  Kineas went on, ‘As I see it, there are two routes and two sets of risk. If we go straight east, we cross the desert - and crossing in mid-summer will be very different from crossing in spring. Together we have ten thousand horses. Perhaps after we send our people to their winter grass, we’ll have four thousand horses.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s a lot of water.’

  All around the fire, men and women nodded, picturing the desert crossing.

  ‘If we ride south for two days, we’ll be back at the forks of the Polytimeros. As I understand it, we can follow the Polytimeros into the valley of Marakanda, and then go north through the Sogdian gap to the Jaxartes, and never spend a night without water.’

  ‘There is Alexander,’ Diodorus said.

  ‘Both routes have risk,’ Kineas said. ‘Alexander will have outposts on the Polytimeros. The closer we go to Marakanda, the more dangerous it will be. But if we move like Sakje, we could be with Queen Zarina and the Massagetae in a fortnight.’

  ‘If Alexander catches us in the valley of the Polytimeros, we’ll be in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘We scout carefully and move fast.’ Kineas looked around. ‘We’ve left it late, friends. If we are agreed that we’re going to Zarina - that we’ll help her stop Alexander this summer - then we must go now and we must go fast.’

  People were nodding.

  Kineas continued. ‘I have one more argument to make. There’s no point in riding to the Jaxartes only to arrive on blown horses who need a month on the grass to fight. The desert is certain - we will take losses. The Polytimeros requires that Athena - and Tyche - smile on us.’

  Lot rose to his feet. ‘You are persuasive,’ he said. ‘And I will follow you in battle. But in this thing, I must go my own way. The desert is the surest way. Beasts will die, but unless we’re unlucky, no man or woman will die. The Sauromatae will cross the desert.’

  Srayanka rose in turn. ‘The Sakje will ride the Polytimeros, if the Olbians will go that way.’

  Diodorus looked at Kineas. ‘Do I actually get a vote?’

  Kineas nodded.

  Diodorus scratched at his beard. ‘If we have to fight, I’d rather fight in the condition we’re in right now. I’m with Kineas. I think we can brush the Macedonian outposts aside and move three hundred stades a day. Unless they have a force prepared,
we’ll be past their outposts before they can catch us.’

  Kineas looked around. He saw no outrage, and sensed that enough had been said. ‘Then let us divide those who will go to Zarina from those who will go to the winter grass. Say your farewells. Because I mean us to ride the day after tomorrow.’

  To Diodorus and Philokles, Kineas made another argument, ladling mutton stew at the mess fire later that night. ‘We’re going to the muster of the Scythians,’ Kineas said. ‘Our Greek cavalry will be out of place, and in action they might be mistaken for foes.’

  Nihmu, not a member of their mess and not an invited guest, plopped down with her riding blanket, smelling of honeysuckle and horse sweat, and neatly intercepted the bowl of stew. ‘Thanks, Strategos,’ she said. ‘I dreamed you were to cook, and so I came.’

  Kineas glared at her and the other men laughed.

  Philokles laughed with the others, mopping the bottom of his wooden bowl with flatbread. After he laughed, he looked thoughtful, his blond beard seeming alive in the firelight. Nihmu put her back against his while she ate.

  Diodorus shook his head. ‘They don’t look like the boys who rode out of Olbia, Kineas. Look at them on parade in the morning. You’re not the only man in Sakje armour. We have Greek helmets - so do most of the Sakje. Eh? Hard to find a man who doesn’t have a grass wife to sew for him - leather tunics on most, and some in barbarian leggings.’

  ‘They still look Greek to me,’ Philokles said. He raised his bowl to Kineas. ‘Good mutton,’ he said.

  ‘On his grave stele, we can put “Kineas - Strategos and Cook”.’ Diodorus laughed.

  ‘Even the Keltoi?’ Kineas asked, trying to get back to the subject at hand. He’d meant it as a joke, but it made the other two thoughtful.

  ‘No,’ Philokles said. ‘No, the Keltoi don’t look Greek. It is a way of sitting - or perhaps it is the tattoos.’

  Diodorus gave a wry smile and held out his bowl for more. ‘I long to see your Carlus recline at a symposium. Hah! He’d break the couch!’

  Kineas smiled. ‘I suggest we send the Olbians back to Hyrkania under Eumenes, with orders to take command from Lycurgus and Heron. Or,’ and here he found that his voice faltered, ‘or under one of you.’