by Scott Oden
Phanes backpedaled. His advantage lay in speed and precision. The raw elemental fury of Barca's assault stymied his every move. Thrusts were batted aside, and a hammering counterattack met each slashing stroke. The Greek's wrist grew numb from serving as Barca's anvil.
Phanes launched himself at Barca, a new round of slash and thrust, parry and riposte, that brought them into another close embrace. Sweat poured down their faces, into their eyes. Muscle strained against muscle, sinew against sinew. Their blades locked together, grinding. Phanes threw a punch at Barca's chin with his free hand, connected, and drew back for another. Barca responded in kind.
Quick as a snake Phanes ducked Barca's punch, hooked the Phoenician's leg and shoved with all his might. It was an old wrestler's trick, and it caught Barca at unawares. He tried to regain his balance and failed, toppling to the ground. He landed on his back; his sword jarred from his grasp.
Barca's fall gave the Greek the opening he needed. With a triumphant yell, Phanes sprang forward and drove his blade into Barca's belly. The tip of the weapon skittered down Barca's cuirass and plunged, instead, into his thigh, nailing his leg to the ground.
The Phoenician roared in pain and anger.
The onlookers knew it was over. They knew …
Above him, the Greek was overextended, stumbling forward. He would have fallen had the Phoenician not caught him by the neckline of his cuirass and held him erect. Snarling, Barca grabbed Phanes' sword by the blade and wrenched it from his thigh. Phanes' eyes widened. His arms flailed; his feet sought purchase.
"I'll see you in Hell! " Barca said, ramming the blade into the exposed hollow of Phanes' throat and hurling him aside with a contemptuous shove.
Phanes of Halicarnassus died writhing on his belly.
Barca clambered to his feet, swaying, his weight on the Greek's sword. The wound in his thigh was grave; blood sheeted down his leg. Around him, the onlookers were stunned to silence, staring at the Greek's corpse. They glanced from Barca to Phanes and back again. Suddenly, one man faced hundreds.
Barca staggered forward. "Let's end this! Come and die, you sons of whores! "
None among the Persians moved. The battle was over; they had won. They weren't eager to die. There was some jostling amid their ranks as a few soldiers stepped to the forefront, Greeks for the most part, mercenaries from the island of Samos, not as eager to avenge their fallen commander as they were to claim glory as Barca's slayer.
The Phoenician braced himself …
The massing Greeks faltered, shocked to see a horse crest the hill at full gallop. Its rider was fey, covered in blood. Long hair streamed out behind her as she descended on the enemy like a harpy out of myth.
They gave ground, gape-mouthed, as the rider barreled into their ranks. Limbs were crushed and broken in that press as men were trampled by the horse and by one another. The rider hauled on the reins and the mount, its footing unsure, reared and twisted, collapsing in a tangle of thrashing limbs. The rider was thrown clear.
In the moment's respite, Barca snatched a piece of leather off the ground, a strap from a sandal, and cinched it around his thigh. Blood gushed from the severed artery, jetting in time with the beating of his heart. He made the tourniquet tight and caught up his sword. The Phoenician felt a surge of fear as Jauharah rose to her feet to stand at his side, a shattered spear in her fists.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed through clenched teeth. The enemy advanced slowly, wary. Barca could feel his strength beginning to ebb.
Jauharah kept the spear leveled at the breast of the closest Persian. "I'll not be left behind." She feinted at the Persian's face, giving the man pause. The ring of foemen closed on them, weighing the odds of taking them out before too many of them were killed. In their eyes Barca read fear. Fear and respect. Not just for him. They knew well the fury of a woman. Cyrus, their beloved king and Cambyses' father, had died at a woman's hands. Jauharah's appearance would not keep them at bay for long. He had to do something.
"Give her safe conduct and I will bend my neck to your blades!" Barca said. Beside him, he felt Jauharah stiffen.
"No! Barca! You can't…"
"I'll not see you harmed! " The Phoenician drew himself up to his full height and glared out over the sea of exhausted faces. "My life in exchange for hers! Who will speak for you?"
"I will," a familiar voice said. The Persians parted their ranks, allowing the speaker through.
"Darius," Barca said, bowing slightly. "Will you make me beg for her life?"
The Persian commander's armor was smeared with a mixture of blood and grime, and dented by the fury of the fighting. His helm was gone. Blood oozed from a cut across his forehead. He glanced down at Phanes' corpse. "We are weary of slaughter. You will both be spared."
"In exchange for what?" Barca said, his teeth clenched against the cold spreading through his belly. He held Jauharah's shoulder for support, and she could feel the pressure of his weight increasing. He was losing strength. "Kill me now and let her go, for I'll be no man's slave!"
"I admire valor in any man, friend or foe," Darius said. "And you showed all of us today what valor truly is. I salute you, and give you both your freedom. None will touch you, I give you my word of honor! "
"You're an admirable man, Darius," Barca said. "I'm glad I didn't have to kill you."
The young Persian smiled through his weariness. "Fetch their horse."
Jauharah's horse wandered nearby, terrified by the stench of blood and death. One of the Persians caught its rein and led it over to where they stood. Darius himself helped Barca into the saddle. Before Jauharah could mount behind him, the Persian commander drew her aside.
"That wound in his thigh …"
"I know."
"Where will you go?"
Jauharah looked away; she looked to the south west. "It doesn't matter, so long as I am with him."
Darius sighed. "In the coming days, should you find yourself with no one else to turn to, remember my name and use it. I will do what I can for you."
"You've done enough." Jauharah swung up behind Barca. Deftly, she unbuckled his cuirass and let it fall to the ground. At a gesture, two Persians stepped forward and slipped Barca's greaves off, leaving him clad in his sweatand-blood stained linen corselet and bronze-studded leather kilt. Jauharah touched her heels to the horse's flanks, and without a backward glance cantered off down the hillside.
Darius raised a hand in farewell. "May the gods of your people and mine have mercy upon you."
A west wind shredded the clouds, revealing a sunset that transformed the storm-wracked sky into a canopy aflame with color. Inside the ruined chapel sacred to Hathor the air was still; silent, save for the faint drip of water. Motes of dust swirled through golden shafts of sunlight lancing down from the cracked ceiling.
Barca lay in a pool of light. A smear of blood led from the door to that spot, marking the limits of Jauharah's ability to drag him. She crouched above his thigh and worked furiously to staunch the bleeding. Barca's face was pale, drenched in sweat.
" C–Callisthenes? "
"Don't talk," Jauharah said.
"W-Where is Callisthenes?"
"He has gone on ahead, Hasdrabal," she replied, stifling a sense of helplessness. There was nothing she could do. Without fire she couldn't seal the artery.
"They're all dead," Barcawhispered. "Matthias. Ithobaal. Tjemu. Callisthenes. I killed them. I …"
"Hush. Don't talk like that." Jauharah tried to tighten the strap about his thigh and, despairing of that, pressed her hands against the wound, willing the edges to mend and the blood to cease its life-stealing exodus.
"T-Tell me about your d-dream, again," Barca said, his face screwed up in a rictus of pain.
Jauharah choked back tears. "We lived on a long, green slope beside a crystal river. The land gave us everything we needed. Olives. Pomegranates. Vegetables beyond number. And, there were children. Droves of children."
Barca smiled. "A good dream �
�" A shadow crossed his face. "I'm sorry, Jauharah. I–I s-should have t-taken you away from here."
"Hush, Hasdrabal," Jauharah sobbed. "Please. Save your strength."
"No!" the Phoenician said, rising on his elbows. "Listen. T-There's something I haven't told you. Something I s-should have said long ago. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you, Jauharah. You s-saved my soul. You t-taught me what it was like to live again. For that, I–I can never r-repay you."
Jauharah smiled gently, her hand going to his cheek to brush away the tears. "There's nothing to repay, Hasdrabal. Nothing. I love you more than you'll ever know. I love you for your strength, your compassion, your humanity. You she choked.
"I m-must go s-soon," he said, sinking back down. "S-So cold. L–Lay beside me and t-tell me about our children."
Jauharah stretched out beside him, their bodies woven together as she whispered to him of the laughter of dark-haired little girls, and of the shrieks of young boys with wooden swords. Outside, the sun slipped over the rim of the world, leaving a cold, starless night in its wake …
Ankhkaenre Psammetichus, last pharaoh of the Twenty-sixth dynasty, died not long after the Persian Invasion. In his final hours, it is said he found the will to fight he so lacked at Pelusium.
Cambyses II of Persia, too, did not live long to enjoy the fruits of his conquest. In 522 BC, while returning to the Persian homeland to quell a rebellion of the priestly Magi, Cambyses died of an apparently self-inflicted wound. His short reign would be remembered by his enemies for its brutality and madness.
Prexaspes, who commanded the Persian left at Pelusium, died in the political upheaval surrounding the rebellion of the Magi.
Young Darius, son of Hystapes, arshtibara to the King, commander of the vanguard at Gaza and the Persian right at Pelusium, seized the throne from the rebellious Magi. He would achieve lasting fame as Darius I, called the Great, most noble and civilized of all the Persian kings of the Achaemenid dynasty. The tale of his early years, the trilingual Behistun Inscription, is noticeably silent about his doings in Egypt.
The Persians captured Ladice, the Lady of Cyrene. When Cambyses learned of her identity, he returned her to her family in Cyrene as a gesture of goodwill.
The priest Ujahorresnet was rewarded for his perfidy with such diverse titles as Chief Physician, Companion to the King, and Controller of the Palace. His funerary stela, now in the Vatican Museum, provides the best source for what followed during the Persian Invasion. In AD 1980, Czech archaeologists uncovered his tomb in the sands of Abusir.
History does not say what became of the Arabian slavewoman who dared to love a Phoenician general, nor have archaeologists uncovered a ruined chapel in the desert outside Pelusium (modern Tell Farama). It is as if they never existed …
Glossary
Ahuramazda
Persian god who, with Anahita and Mithra, led the forces of Light against that of Darkness (called "the Lie"). To the Persians, Ahuramazda was the Creator, responsible for the earth, the sky, and man. In his Histories, Herodotus notes the essentials of Persian religion, that they had no statues or temples, that they sacrificed to their trio of gods on mountain tops and high places, and that they held fire, earth, and running water sacred. The Greeks likened Ahuramazda to their own Zeus.
Alilat
A goddess of the Arabians often identified with Greek Athena. She was a divinity of the night sky.
Amemait
The Devourer. With the hindquarters of a hippopotamus, the foreparts of a lion and the head of a crocodile, this creature haunted the Egyptian underworld, ready to consume those souls whose hearts could not balance the Scales of Justice (q.v.). Such utter destruction of the soul was a real fear to many Egyptians.
Amon
An Egyptian god of the district of Thebes (q.v.) who rose to preeminence during the New Kingdom (1550–1069 BCE). Amon co-opted the attributes of the sun god, Ra, and as Amon-Ra became the center of a vast state cult whose temporal power often rivaled that of Pharaoh, himself. Artists normally depicted Amon as a handsome young man wearing a headdress with two plumes, or as a horned ram (a symbol of power and fertility).
Amphorae
(sing. amphora.) A large, two-handled pottery vessel used to store and transport liquids such as wine and olive oil, or dry goods like wheat. They were ubiquitous in the Greco-Egyptian world.
Anat
An Asiatic fertility goddess.
Anshan
A city in the province of Persis, near Shiraz in modern Iran. From Anshan, Cyrus led the Persians in the conquest of Media to the northeast, Lydia and the kingdoms of Asia Minor, and the failing juggernaut of Babylon in Mesopotamia. Though they ruled from the great cities to the east, the kings of Persia always honored Anshan as the heart of their empire.
Anubis
(Egyptian Anpu.) The jackal-headed Egyptian god of mortuary rituals. It was Anubis who guided the dead through the underworld to the Halls of Judgement (q.v.).
Apadana
A Persian audience hall, and often the focal point of court life at the palace of the King of Kings.
Apophis
A serpent of Egyptian myth, personifying the evil that lurked just outside the confines of well-ordered society. Apophis was the enemy of the sun god, Ra, who attacked the god's solar barque every night as it traveled through the underworld to the Place of the Dawn. On days bereft of sun, either through storms or eclipse, the Egyptians believed Apophis had triumphed over Ra. The serpent's victories, though, were always short-lived.
Aramaic
A Semitic language developed by the nomadic Aramaeans during the 11th through the 8th centuries BCE. Its use spread through Syria and Mesopotamia until it became the lingua franca of the Near East. So widespread was it that the Persians adopted Aramaic as the official language of their empire.
Arshtibara
A title (Persian "spear-bearer") used to denote an individual who is in high regard, either through birth or deed, with the King. Scholars are unsure if the title meant literally that the recipient carried the King's spear. I have adopted it here as an honorific indicative of high standing.
Ba'al
Chief god of the Phoenicians.
Bitter Lakes
Series of shallow, salty lakes on the eastern border of Egypt, following the general course of the modern Suez Canal. The area of the Bitter Lakes was a favorite entry point into Egypt for the Bedouin of Sinai; Egypt's response was to build the fortress system known as the Walls of the Ruler (q.v.). Around 610 BCE, Pharaoh Nekau began construction of a canal that would link the Nile with the Red Sea via the Vale of Tumilat (q.v.) and the Bitter Lakes. The project remained unfinished. According to Herodotus, an oracle warned Pharaoh that his labor would be "to the foreigners advantage". He ceased, turning his attentions to war, instead. Years later, the oracle's predictions came true. King Darius of Persia finished the canal in a fraction of the time it would have normally taken.
Book of the Dead
A collection of spells and incantations designed to aid the deceased on how best to navigate the pitfalls of the afterlife. Once available only to aristocrats, inscribed on the walls of their tombs, by the Late Period copies of the Book of the Dead were universally available to rich and poor, alike. Scribes wrote them on papyrus, in hieratic (q.v.), including illustrations of the journey through the underworld, passwords to avoid the guardian creatures, protestations of innocence, and magical formulae to provide comfort and security in the afterlife.
Byblos
City on the Phoenician coast, at the foot of the Lebanon Mountains.
Calendar, Egyptian
The Egyptians divided their calendar into three seasons, each with four months of thirty days with five days added at the end of the year to commemorate the births of the gods. The seasons and their months were as follows:
Akhet, the season of the Inundation (q.v.) of the Nile, heralded by the rising of the star the Egyptians called Sopdu (Sirius, the Dog Star), which correspond
s to the middle of our July. The months of Akhet were Thoth (the first month of the Egyptian year), Paopi, Athyr, and Khoiak.
Peret, the season of sowing, when the land emerged from the waters of the Inundation and crops were planted. The months of Peretwere Tybi, Mekhir, Pnamenoth, and Pharmuthi.
Shemu, the harvest season, corresponding to our own summer, was a time of great festivals and celebrations, provided the crops were bountiful. The months of Shemu were Pakhons, Paoni, Epep, and Mesore.
The Egyptians numbered their years from the beginning of each Pharaoh's reign (our 526 BCE was the 44th year of Pharaoh Ahmose's reign).
Canopic jars
Called qabi en wet in Egyptian (loosely translated, it means "jars of flesh"), Canopic jars are containers used in the mortuary rituals to hold the viscera of the deceased after embalming. The vessels were squat in design and made from a variety of materials: pottery, faience (q.v.), wood, or stone, depending on their owner's wealth. A set contained four jars, each with a carved stopper representing one of the four Sons of Horus (q.v.) — human-headed Imsety, who presided over the liver; baboonheaded Hapy, who protected the lungs; jackal-headed Duamutef, guardian of the stomach; and hawk-headed Qebehsenuef, who ruled the intestines. The respective organs were removed during embalming, dried in natron (a natural dehydrating agent), wrapped, and placed in their jars to be entombed alongside the mummy.
Corinthian helmet
The standard helmet of the Greek hoplite (q.v.) from the early 7th century BCE onward. Beaten from a single sheet of bronze, this helmet covered the entire head, leaving only eye sockets and a narrow slit for breathing. One variation, called the Chalcidian helmet, included cutaways over the ears to facilitate better hearing on the battlefield. Both styles had a removable crest of colored horsehair. Against non-Greeks, the Corinthian helmet gave hoplites a serious psychological advantage: it rendered its wearer faceless; the expressionless bronze mask hid any fears or anxieties that might plague the man beneath.
Croesus
(Greek Kroisos.) Last king of Lydia, Croesus reigned from c. 560–546 BCE, and allied himself with Egypt, Babylon, and Sparta against the rising might of Persia. Even in the ancient world, the name of Croesus was synonymous with vast wealth. His went toward patronage of the arts, monumental building, and influencing lesser rulers on his borders. Stories of Croesus fired the imagination of Herodotus, who included the eastern despot in his Histories as an example of disastrous pride. One such story tells how Croesus consulted the oracle at Delphi (q.v.) and was advised that if he crossed the Halys River against Persia, he would destroy a mighty empire. Wrapped in the blanket of divine revelation, Croesus marched. The prophecy proved correct — his own empire fell to the Persians in 546 BCE.