by Andrew James
Tired after the fight, Darius sat on his camel and watched as three hundred engineers approached the oasis, leading camels heavily laden with mattocks and jute fibre sacks of dry powdered clay. Suddenly the beasts lifted their heads, long lashes blinking daintily as flaring nostrils scented water. The drivers yanked on ropes and cracked their sticks in futile anger, then quickly jumped for their lives as the camels lowered their heads and charged obstinately for the spring. They roared and rumbled, long legs lurching, then knelt on the ground and drank, heads tipping back to let the water tumble down their necks.
As they burbled with contentment, the chief engineer gave Darius an apologetic look. Darius smiled back understandingly. After days without drinking, it was a brave man who came between a camel and water.
When the camels were full the engineers set to work. Having unpacked their tools and measuring lines, they ordered the Bactrians into work gangs. Bending their backs, five hundred men drove mattocks into soft ground. Time was short. They worked furiously, scraping the sand back, those at the bottom of the pit piling it into leather buckets to be tipped away, until there was a wide basin as deep as a man is tall. Sweat poured off their brows and soaked their gowns, but there was no rest until it was completed.
Digging the basin took the whole day. After a hasty meal, the engineers mixed the clay with water and lined the basin to dry overnight. They dug a channel to divert the spring away from the clay as it set into a cracked, greyish-green slip. When they returned the flow to the newly lined hole the next day, water began collecting in a large, cloudy pool, rather than frittering away into the sand.
Nine days later …
Standing among the herbage, with winter butterflies and jewel-like dragonflies darting around him, and every shade of green softening the harsh brown of sand, Darius peered into the clear desert morning. An army was approaching, spear points glinting, armour reflecting the newly risen sun. Camel riders were black dots criss-crossing ahead and on the flanks. Slowly shapes became clear. A column of spearmen six wide, a group of plumed helmets on horseback, ranks of archers with bows strung against ambush. A tall blond Greek riding in the van, head bare, spear in a leather holster, long Greek sword strapped to his waist.
Phanes and his army had arrived.
Like a driven man, the stratekos slid off his horse, glanced up at the sky and, without wasting time on words, strode over to examine the pool of water. One hundred and fifty paces long and seventy-five paces wide, it sparkled blue like a small lake. He drew the spear from its holster and dipped the long, ash wood shaft into the water. It came four fifths of the way up. He gave Darius a perfunctory nod. ‘You’ve done well. Now there’s only one stage left. The Oasis Between the Two Lakes.’
On flat land just outside the oasis, standards were stuck into the sand and soldiers were gathering around them. The tranquillity of the last few days was shattered as the arriving army laughed and joked, dropping their kit, slumping down to rest tired feet. A satapatish smiled. ‘Don’t loosen those boots, boys, you may be moving off,’ and the men groaned, drank water, rummaged in their packs for bread, lay back to rest while they could.
Darius waited while Phanes decided. The Yauna looked again at the glorious blue sky and scowled, not trusting the weather to hold. Then his pale eyes flicked from one group of resting soldiers to another, judging their mood. Setting his mouth, he nodded his approval. They had marched a long way already, but seemed willing to carry on. ‘Darius, as soon as these men have rested and refilled their waterskins you will go with them and the engineers to the Two Lakes. You must sweep the garrison aside and do the same as you have done here.’
Vinda looked down from his horse, his brow knotted. ‘If there are already two lakes, why do we need to dam the spring?’
Phanes regarded him coldly. ‘The lakes are salty. Only the spring is sweet.’ He saw Darius counting the standards. ‘You’re taking ten hazara. There used to be a garrison of five hundred at the Two Lakes. I believe it’s been increased but it won’t be more than a thousand, there isn’t enough water without damming the spring.’
Darius understood. ‘Yes, Stratekos.’
‘One more thing. Ten thousand is too many for you to lead without being promoted. You will advise him, but Vinda will be in command.’
Darius took a long hard look at Phanes. It was the last time he saw him alive.
20
Darius sat at the tail of Vinda’s army and watched it being swallowed by the wilderness as it marched north. He felt awe at the size of this empty land and prayed that they would not be led astray again. With their water ration tight, he had no wish to go hunting the mythical roc bird. He recalled the screams of the surviving guide as Phanes had his fingernails pulled out. The torture had extracted clear directions to the Oasis Between the Two Lakes, which Phanes then confirmed by nailing the guide to a cross and threatening to hoist it up. When his bowels opened in terror but he still swore that the directions were accurate, Phanes had decided they probably were.
Darius disliked such methods. On the other hand, he didn’t want to cross a treacherous desert without accurate directions, either.
The force heading to the Two Lakes consisted of two thousand camel-mounted cavalry, four thousand foot archers and four thousand spearmen. Handled competently, it should easily be enough to overrun the Ammonian garrison and hold the oasis against any counter-attack from Siwa. In fact, it should be enough to defeat the entire Ammonian army. Darius had been carefully following the reports coming in from Phanes’s spies, whose best guess was that the Ammonians had eight thousand fighting men.
Most of the cavalry Phanes had brought from Egypt was usabari, camel-mounted, and the bulk of these rode two-humped Bactrians, favoured for their strength and power. A few swift-running, single-humped dromedaries were used by reconnaissance and messenger units. There were only four hundred asabari cavalry mounted on the big Nisaean chargers, for each horse drank as much water as ten men and, unlike camels, horses needed to drink every day. Phanes had given Vinda fifty of these asabari. With his usual grandiloquence Vinda designated them his ‘personal guard’.
‘They are meant to be a shock force to break up the enemy,’ Darius pointed out as the two officers rode stiffly alongside one another. ‘Not a defensive force to protect you.’
Vinda frowned but at first he didn’t reply. Ever since Darius had threatened to rip out his tongue he always seemed hesitant, even nervous, when Darius was near. Despite his superiority of rank, the noble seemed very conscious that his subordinate officer thoroughly despised him.
‘An army’s first task is to protect its general,’ he said at last.
‘And a general’s first task is to know how to fight a battle.’ Darius had Vinda on weak ground, for he had never led men into combat before.
Vinda was dismissive. ‘With ten thousand soldiers, I think I can safely be trusted to overrun a garrison of a thousand.’
Lulled by the rhythmic tramp of feet in the dust, Darius remembered everything he had heard about Siwa, most of it from Phanes. ‘You’re going to fight them, so you’d better know something about them,’ the stratekos told the senior officers as they crowded into his tent. ‘Their main tribes are Tjemhu, Tjehynu, Meshwesh and Kehek. Under their so-called “Great Chief of the Desert Lands” they once had an empire called Tehenu – the Olive Land. You’ll understand the name when you get there. Its warriors terrorized the Pharaohs, raiding right up to the banks of the Nile. But that was long ago. We have nothing to fear from them now. They fight without discipline or tactics, their bows lack power and they’re short of hardwood for spears. The oasis is large – about two days’ ride from east to west – but only the areas around its hundred or so springs are inhabited. The people are a strange blend of Libu tribe, Greek colonist and Egyptian blood. Their language is a local Libyan dialect, unlike anything in the civilized world. We are going to put the entire population to the sword, so don’t bother trying to learn it. Two things to remember. First, t
hese men have excessive pride but no honour. So give them no quarter. Second, they are fierce in a charge, but it is all bluster. Stand up to them and they quickly lose heart.’
These were the men Darius had been sent to fight. Or more accurately, the men whose god he had been sent to fight. The enemy was not the Ammonians themselves, but Ammon, the ram-headed god they shared with the Egyptians, and his Prophetess, who was to be dragged to Memphis in chains. Addressing his officers, Phanes had put it like this: ‘Egypt is beaten but refuses to accept it. Anyone who saw the fanaticism which the wailing rams’ horns inspired at Pelusium will realize we must smash Ammon’s power.’ Then he had added contemptuously, ‘The world will soon see if this ram-god is worthy of all his priests and temples.’
With those words ringing in his ears, Darius marched.
The Oasis of the Two Lakes
The lake was a dark pool of silver. A fiercely bright crescent moon reflected off its surface like a sliver of polished diamond. As Darius lay watching, a sudden wind sprang up, sweeping the reed beds, ruffling the surface of the lake and shattering the moon. The tall reeds had already lost their fluffy heads to winter storms; now they looked stark against the sky as they swayed. The occasional splash or croak of a toad came from the marshy ground and at first this was the only sign of life. Slowly Darius began to make out tents in an open area in front of a mass of short, stubby date palms. Shadows moved before them. Focusing slightly off-centre he made out the upright figures of men. It struck him as odd that there were no campfires. Even if the Ammonians were hardened to the cold desert nights, did they not cook? Or were they trying to hide? Why would they hide, when it was obvious that the only substantial source of water within striking distance of Siwa would be garrisoned? An uneasy feeling told Darius something was wrong.
A high whine in his ear followed by a sharp stinging on his hand made him look down. He squashed the mosquito into a pulp on his skin. It was the fifth one. They were swarming in clouds, with bats swooping in silent loops to catch them. Darius shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground. Next to him Vinda swore as he too was bitten. They had crept forward to reconnoitre, sheltering behind a low outcrop of rock near the oasis fringe. A hundred and fifty paces behind them was a larger outcrop where Dadarshi, his brother Zariadris – acting as hazarapatish to command the two thousand cavalry – and the commanders of the eight hazaras of foot were waiting. Five hundred paces behind them, the leading divisions were lying in a sandy depression. The cavalry were a thousand paces further back, in case the horses or camels smelt water and became unmanageable.
Vinda pulled his head down and whispered in Darius’s ear. ‘Phanes overestimated their strength. There are too few tents for a thousand men. This will be easy.’
Darius pointed at a large plateau overlooking the lake, ending in a line of cliffs. ‘He said there are hills up there riddled with tombs. There may be more soldiers camping in them. I’ll send some scouts.’
‘I hardly think that is necessary,’ Vinda drawled. ‘And there is no time to waste scouting, I want to catch them asleep.’
Darius drew a deep breath. He knew this would happen. Burning to demonstrate his military genius, Vinda was going to launch a night attack on unfamiliar ground against an enemy of unknown size. It was a good way to get them all killed. ‘Have you gone mad? We can’t just charge in blind.’
‘Courage, Darius! Remember we are Persian nobles. We do not let minor details avert us from our path. That is why we rule over lesser nations. Phanes ordered me to “take the oasis quickly and start damming the spring” and that is what I shall do.’
‘Phanes also said, “Don’t fail.”’
White teeth flashed in a condescending smile. ‘I see now why he put me in charge. You are too negative, Darius, looking for problems where none exist. But I shall not be swayed. Now listen carefully. I want the cavalry to go in first, to trample those tents and spread chaos, with the spearmen following to cut them down as they flee. I do not know if these savages have sentries; if they do we may take some casualties, but sheer weight of numbers will overwhelm them.’ His eyes glinting in the moonlight, he started to rise. ‘Time to pass the word for a general advance!’
Darius didn’t move. ‘You’ve forgotten the archers,’ he said blandly.
‘Archers? Ah yes, of course. They can form up along the top of this outcrop. To … er, give support.’
Intent on the terrain, Darius heard Vinda slip away. Squinting, he judged the distance between the outcrop and the oasis. It was at least a hundred and fifty paces, far beyond the archers’ effective range at night, even with the moon this bright. Without archers nearly half their fighting strength would be wasted. He studied the cliffs and plateau. From up there they would have a good view of the oasis, the archers would be able to use their bows to full effect, and if anything went wrong they would have a strong defensive position. He made up his mind. Vinda may be in command, but they were not going to follow his plan.
When Darius reached the waiting commanders Vinda was just finishing giving his orders. The commanders’ faces were pallid beneath the bright desert moon. Darius could see their doubtful expressions as Vinda addressed them. ‘… In capturing this oasis we shall be doing the King of Kings a great service. And, as I know well, he is not a man to forget his friends. Are there any questions?’
Dadarshi and his brother Zariadris began talking excitedly in Armenian. Two archery commanders exchanged heated whispers before the senior, a veteran Persian called Mithrayazna, spoke up. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, but the oasis is a bit far from the outcrop. I don’t think it will be in range.’
Darius winced as Vinda addressed the veteran like a young recruit. ‘Oh! Good point, soldier. Perhaps they could edge a bit closer?’
‘“Edge closer”, sir?’
‘Yes. Your archers. Edge closer to the oasis.’
The veteran frowned heavily. ‘You mean, have my men stand out in the open? What if they’re charged by cavalry, sir? They’ll be cut to pieces.’
Flustered, Vinda scratched his forehead and turned to one of the infantry commanders. ‘Perhaps you could leave five hundred of your spearmen with the archers. Just in case.’
‘It might leave us a bit light when we charge, sir?’
Zariadris was watching the exchange with calculating eyes. ‘How large is their garrison, sir?’ the Armenian asked.
‘Oh, er, not many. I saw tents for about five hundred.’
His elbow on his chest and his bearded chin resting on a meaty palm, Dadarshi studied the oasis thoughtfully. ‘What about that high ground? If I were defending the place, I’d have men up there. Do we know how strongly it’s held, sir?’
Vinda shot Darius a pained look before answering. ‘No, Dadarshi, we do not. And we do not have time to start rummaging into every corner of the oasis looking for problems. We must get on.’
Startled alarm replaced the usual morose expression on Dadarshi’s big round face. Turning to his brother he wrinkled his nose in contempt. Zariadris raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Darius watched them. He had got to know Dadarshi and Zariadris well. They were both battle-hardened campaigners who had survived on their wits.
Vinda also saw their silent exchange. ‘Now listen,’ the noble said angrily, turning to each of his fractious commanders in turn. ‘Stratekos Phanes has put me in charge and I have given you my orders. Like them or not, you shall carry them out.’
The officers shifted uneasily. One gave a nervous cough. A couple stared at the ground. Dadarshi, Zariadris and Mithrayazna turned to Darius in silent appeal, urgency shining from their faces.
Darius had enough problems with Vinda and the king already, but the officers were absolutely right to be worried, and Darius couldn’t just ignore them. He made up his mind. ‘Vinda, we are not going to attack without sending out scouts.’
Vinda turned on Darius in a flash. ‘You will do as you are ordered!’
Darius set his face hard and met the noble’s eyes. There was n
o point prevaricating. Vinda needed to be thoroughly squashed. ‘No,’ he said bluntly.
Vinda opened his mouth, looked at each of the grim, unyielding officers, realized he was defeated and closed it again. There was a collective sigh of relief.
‘Dadarshi,’ Darius said, ‘find four good men to get up there and look. Send another four to skirt each lake. Let’s see how big this place is. Send another four into those palms. We’d best know what they’re hiding.’
The Armenian’s face lit up.
Darius felt the daggers in Vinda’s eyes and knew he shouldn’t underestimate the noble. His family hadn’t risen to such heights without knowing how to deal ruthlessly with enemies.
The commanders dispersed back to their units. The scouts blackened their faces and slipped into the shadows. Vinda sat alone, his back to a rock, face turned away. A short while later the commanders returned. Nudged on by the others, Zariadris and Dadarshi came forward. It was Zariadris who spoke. ‘We’ve been talking, sir. We won’t follow him. It’s not fair on the men. They would follow a good leader into the jaws of death and not complain. Haldi takes us all in the end, you can’t be a soldier without accepting the risk. But no one wants to throw their life away being led by a fool.
Sitting nearby, staring into the night, Vinda was very still. Darius glanced over and for a moment almost pitied him. For a high-ranking Aryan, to be shamed in front of his subordinates was as bad as it could get. ‘We have sent out scouts now, Zariadris. It will be all right.’
‘Yes, sir. But in a fight things happen quickly and you have to react. We need a commander we have confidence in. We want you to take over.’