by David Bell
“At once, my lady.”
“Wait, wait: I see a great column coming on: chariots before, a forest of spears behind, archers, hundreds of them, no a thousand.”
“To take us in the rear?”
“No, my dear lord: I think to save us. I see their leader in the first chariot with a young woman holding a lance at his side. Let me wipe the blood from your brow.”
“I see him now. It cannot be.”
“It is, my Lord: our son.”
“And all our old comrades with him. Captain, order the slingers to make ready the fire pots for their slings and archers to bind the soaked lint to their arrowheads and have their matches ready. When my son’s column comes up, give the order for fire to be rained on the enemy.”
“At once, my Lord, Kanesh.”
“Sharesh, Ariadana, ride in the front rank by us. Captain, sound the horn. Keep the line! Keep the line!”
“Charge!”