By the Sword

by Christian Kachel

  “Are you from around here sir?” I asked as confidently as possible. The man didn’t acknowledge me. I repeated my question in a more assertive tone. The man turned to me with an annoyed, half interested expression.

  “What?” he yelled. Upon my third repetition, its silliness became apparent to me and I wavered in my delivery.

  “Who are you?” was his terse reply.

  “Nobody sir, just travelling through Myrana and making conversation,” I answered, hoping he would take an interest and ask a question regarding my travels. He grunted and turned back to his cup of wine where another minute of awkward silence ensued. My anxiety level began rising as I could feel Vettias dissecting every aspect of the pitiful encounter.

  “Do you frequent this establishment often sir,” I feebly asked, attempting to spark any kind of conversation with the curmudgeon.

  “Why the hell do you have a hard-on for me kid?” was his curt reply as he again turned away from me.

  “I am travelling with my uncle, sir, and as I have said, I am just making conversation,” was my final plea for his attention.

  “Go make it with someone that gives a damn,” were his final words. With that my mental clock’s horn sounded and I looked over to Vettias in defeat. He had a condescending grin on his face and put an arm around me.

  “You’ve got some work to do,” was his consolation. “Don’t worry, I picked him on purpose. Some targets won’t give you anything to work with but I would have started with offering to buy him a drink. Alcohol is sometimes the best lubricant for extracting what a target knows. He clearly is a drinker, thus, that is one of his weaknesses we can exploit. Additionally, that type of man has no enjoyment in his life, thus, I would attempt to join him in complaining about something- like the influx of foreigners, or the price of the mediocre women and wine. If we absolutely needed this target we also could drug his cup and coax him out to the ally where we would have a cart waiting. Finally, every target is different, so if I hit a dead end with a local in a place like this, I’d try talking with the women- they are the key to this business. Kindness and money are your best instruments in winning them over. Their line of work inspires little of either. Speaking of which, we’ll have to sample this shithole’s wares this evening- my treat.”

  I smirked and nodded at Vettias’ proposal, making sure to keep my composure yet seem an agreeable drinking companion. “We’ll work on your approaches again many times between now and Triparadeisus, but for now, let us sit at a table and inspect what this hovel has to offer. You are not only going to need to know how to approach haggard strangers with no interest in talking, you are going to need to become an expert with women. I’m sure you and your idiot friends are familiar with the mechanics of sex, but taking the time to please a female target, most likely a prostitute, is essential to this trade.”

  Vettias then motioned for a prostitute to come over to us and whispered something inaudible in her ear, which caused her to laugh. She departed our table as he smacked her rear. “A beautiful woman is the greatest gift the Gods ever gave man. Long, flowing hair smelling of perfume; skin soft like the finest eastern silk; tits staring you right in the face- young, healthy and full. Legs like two lengthy, toned avenues leading to a lush haven of pleasure flowing with honey and nectar of the Gods. The women here are nothing like that but you must make them feel that way. You must make them feel like you believe they are Aphrodite’s equal. Then of course you tip them a little extra and now you’ve established a reliable source of information.”

  I never heard anyone speak of women so eloquently as Vettias- especially thinking back to my lochos’ post-battle celebration. I couldn’t guess whether it was genuine or a pretence since Vettias’ mental abilities were so superior to me from years of experience and travel throughout the empire. Vettias’ prostitute returned with two more of her colleagues to join our grimy table. The three women were of average attractiveness and all seemed infatuated with my tutor. It was probably unlikely they saw men as worldly as he enter their tavern. Two of the women appeared older than I and the third was about my age. It seemed the younger was under the guidance of the other two, much the same that I was to Vettias. As they sat down, one on Vettias’ lap, one on mine, and the third in a separate chair, it became clear that Vettias was correct in assuming I knew nothing about women. The extant of my knowledge stemmed from getting drunk, clumsily doing the deed, and recounting my exploits with my mates the next morning. That kind of mindless behaviour might work with the sorry lot at present but certainly wouldn’t with the type of women Vettias had just described.

  “Ladies, thank you for joining us on short notice,” Vettias began. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

  “They would have been over here sooner but had to tactfully extricate themselves from some pitiable locals with meagre resources,” The woman on Vettias’ lap replied.

  “That is beauty’s privilege. Beautiful women can command a lowly sap like myself to wait years for their attention and favour.” The three women looked at each other with smirking glances as Vettias delivered a routine he no doubt performed to similar effect countless times in countless taverns such as this. “I am travelling with my nephew and want to teach him how to appreciate and please a woman. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  “Only if you’re part of the deal,” the woman sitting in the chair responded, giggling.

  “Repetition is the mother of skill, my dear, and I believe one must practice their craft regularly in order to maintain their prowess,” Vettias answered with a wink. The three women looked at each other again with a head nod as if they were communicating without words, despite the content of their message being quite apparent. Vettias’ appearance and vocabulary were far superior to what our new companions were used to yet his demeanour and mild self-deprecation made them feel as though he was intentionally coming down to their level- which caused them to be further captivated. “So what do you think, ladies, which of you wants to give a lesson to my boy here and which of you want to receive a lesson from me?”

  The older woman sitting on Vettias’ lap decided that she and the younger girl would learn from the intriguing stranger while the older woman sitting on my lap would teach me there was more to fornication than drunkenly giving some poor girl about three minutes of clumsy thrusting. “Now before we get down to business let my nephew and I enjoy your distinguished company by sharing a jug of wine with you. Nephew, fetch our ladies here some libations,” Vettias ordered as he tossed a coin in my direction. I returned with the order and three additional cups, filling each one liberally. Vettias then proposed a toast to his audience, observing it was women such as this that allowed men of an average lot such as himself to live like a king, if only for the evening.

  I was careful to let the women do most of the drinking since I still felt under probation by my instructor and our conversation over the first jug involved incessant flatteries, of which Vettias drew from an unending well. It was when the second jug was ordered that I witnessed Vettias subtly change the subject from meaningless flirtations to questions of substance. “Since my nephew and I are merchants, I am curious to know the manner of foreigner that passes through this establishment and is fortunate enough to experience the delicacies within. I am always looking for potential buyers of my wares. Promising contacts would certainly encourage me to come back with a heavy purse and visit old acquaintances,” Vettias smirked, passing each woman a coin. What appeared to be an abrupt change of course in the conversation was taken as a natural segue by our now drunk companions which prompted an amusing conversation amongst themselves about the recent clients they had been with; laughing as they recounted names, destinations, resources, and the endowment of their manhood. When it appeared their impressive list was exhausted, Vettias suggested we continue our revelry upstairs, away from jealous eyes, to which our companions were eager to oblige. Walking up the stairs with the remaining jug of wine was the last memory I had of the evening.

 
; Chapter 20

  I woke the next morning not remembering how I returned to my bed and found a fresh bowl of water sitting next to my neatly folded cleaned clothes. I drank down several cupped-palms full of fresh water and splashed the rest on my face, hair, and arm pits. Realizing I could not remember the end of the night, I became nervous that I had committed some embarrassing transgression and hurried to find Vettias to ensure he was not displeased with me. I found him dressed, washed, and looking like he’d been awake for hours as he was cordially conversing with the establishment’s purveyor.

  “Look who arises from Tartarus,” Vettias announced in good spirits. “Learn a few lessons last night?”

  “I don’t really remember to be honest,” I replied, not sure I gave the correct answer.

  “I don’t think you’ll take anything away from a whore like that except venereal disease,” Vettias laughed.

  “You certainly were convincing in your praise for them last night,” I observed. With this comment, Vettias escorted me away from the ear of the owner.

  “And hopefully that was the real lesson you learned,” Vettias retorted. “I could have one of them screw and kill an enemy of General Eumenes this afternoon if the opportunity presented itself. It’s too bad none were fair enough to bring along with us to Triparadeisus to use in our employ. If you cannot remember the end of the evening then you clearly drank too much. Our enemies are waiting for such moments to have you killed if you don’t have your shit together. There are larger forces at work which you can’t possibly understand, and you will be soon entering a world of intrigue, violence, and complexity.”

  Vettias instructed me to pack my belongings while he settled our bill, and the two of us departed on our mounts. Vettias did not speak for the first two hours and we travelled in silence. My thoughts focused on his last words to me regarding ‘larger forces at work.’ If last night had taught me anything it was that I knew nothing of the world Vettias was introducing me to and certainly did not feel ready to enter it facing potential enemies around every corner. I wished for him to speak with me so I could convey my concerns and undergo further training before arriving at Triparadeisus.

  Perhaps sensing my inner dialogue, Vettias informed me “Tonight we will try your hand at elicitation again. How did you think you did last night?”

  “Not well,” I answered.

  “I purposely wanted you to practice on a hard target. Tonight we’ll have you work on a drunk- it will be easier. There were things you could have done better, however. Yesterday we discussed ploys and mental manipulations to discreetly draw out information from people. You seemed to grasp the concepts, but your demeanour was all wrong. It all depends on the person, but your target last night did not view you as an equal, nor did you act like one. When dealing with someone like that you must be confident in your speech and body language. On the other hand, the prostitutes thought me their superior; therefore my demeanour was one of kindness mixed with a little self-deprecation to lighten the mood. Tonight we’ll find a drunk for you to talk to. He’ll probably give you everything you want to know without you even provoking him to do so. You will also use a guise tonight.

  “A guise?” I inquired.

  “You will not be Andrikos from Ilandra; you will develop another persona while speaking to your target and will not be allowed to break this ruse the entire evening. Whatever you decide I will uphold throughout the evening as well. I’m also going to expect you to add more to the conversation with our women tonight. You’re a good looking enough kid of good enough stock- there is no reason you cannot have them eating out of your hand as I did last night.”

  I nodded throughout Vettias’ instructions and we continued riding in silence for another thirty minutes until my desire to ask about his meaning of the large, dangerous world I would be entering forced me to make further inquiry of my tutor. “What did you mean this morning about my inability to understand the larger world I would be entering?”

  “Well, I guess now is as good of time as any,” Vettias replied after a long pause. He then looked at me very seriously. “I started my military career similar to you, within the army of Alexander’s father, Philip II- just a know-nothing phalangite from greater Macedon doing as he was told. I joined when I came of age after the Third Sacred War made Philip II the most powerful man in Greece. Two years after my enlistment, an alliance of Greek city states, led by Athens and Thebes, opposed Philip and a great battle was fought near the Boeotian town of Chaeronea. It was there that Alexander wrote the prelude to his future glory while commanding a taxis of the Macedonian phalanx opposing the Sacred Band of the Thebans- a previously invincible infantry force responsible for the legendary defeat of the Spartans at Leuctra under Philip’s military mentor, Epaminondas. Fighting within a lochos under Alexander’s taxis, we shattered The Sacred Band and routed the Greek allies- bringing peace and order to the Greek mainland for the first time in generations. It was here that I first witnessed Alexander’s greatness.”

  I always had a penchant for the retelling of battles and it took great concentration to keep a stoic façade as Vettias spoke of high adventure with Philip and Alexander. Using my new vernacular, I would be a target susceptible to a man like Vettias who could spin tales of epic conflict between historic legends. I excitedly struggled to determine how anything regarding Philip and Alexander had anything to do with me and could tell Vettias understood the effect he was having on his audience as he continued.

  “The assassination of Philip II saw Alexander become King of Macedon and General of the army at age twenty. Alexander quickly made haste to establish his authority and carry out his father’s plans of Persian conquest. I crossed the Hellespont with his army as a phalangite and fought in the Battle of the Granicus. After the Battle of Issus, my syntagma commander chose me to become the aid to a general within Alexander’s staff named Polyperchon. This position brought me into contact with the most powerful men of the army and I soon knew them all.

  After the Battle of Gaugamela and the surrender of Babylon, General Polyperchon summoned me to his quarters to reassign me to a new position. Alexander’s chief secretary at the time, the man you now know as General Eumenes, was also present during the meeting, which I thought odd, until General Polyperchon explained his purpose. I was to be assigned to a secretive organization led by Eumenes, unbeknownst to most anyone within Alexander’s army. We were to employ any means necessary to execute specific orders from Alexander that could not be carried out within the public eye. This included all manner of information collection against any perceived threat to his leadership within the army, as well as the discreet elimination of Alexander’s enemies. Such a position required someone who had demonstrated the requisite skills for the task and absolute loyalty to the King. General Polyperchon had observed these qualities in me while serving on his staff and recommended me for the position. The name of this shadowy group was the King’s Hand and any disclosure of its existence was punishable by death.”

  Vettias’ last remark caught me a little off-guard, since he was now divulging the very information whose knowledge by an outsider would spell death for him. Vettias perceived my perplexity and added “Don’t worry, this disclosure will not result in anyone’s death. You will understand once I have finished.”

  “The King’s Hand was heavily compartmentalized and each element was not necessarily aware of one another, except for a small tattoo located on all members’ hip. This mark is easily concealable with any manner of dress yet a small slit can be made into clothing material in case one must discreetly present it to another member as bona fides. It was here that I learned the dark arts, and performed them well, on behalf of the King.”

  “As Alexander’s eastern campaign dragged on and became more arduous, the King’s Hand was kept quite busy as Alexander’s suspicions increasingly mounted. By the time the army mutinied in India, Alexander had us conduct several large scale purging operations of those he thought disloyal to him. It was during this tim
e, following Alexander’s severe injuries received while fighting the Malli tribe along the Indus River, a special meeting was called bringing all leadership of the King’s Hand into Alexander’s chambers, along with Generals Polyperchon, Hephaestion, and Eumenes. Prior to this meeting no one holding the rank lower than captain was allowed into a King’s Hand meeting while other members were present. No one knew what to make of this clear breach of security by calling all lower level operatives to congregate at one place but, as we learned, the meeting was convened on the orders of Alexander himself.”

  “While Alexander’s wounds healed, he had not been seen by the army and rumours were spreading that he had already died. The image of our God King sitting frailly before us did not bolster our confidence in his ultimate recovery- his skin pale, his face gaunt, his hair stringy and lifeless, his eyes sallow, his body atrophied. Everyone held their breath waiting for Alexander to address this unprecedented gathering of shadow operatives.”

  “’I have purposely gathered you all here to personally acknowledge the important work you have done on my behalf during our great conquest,’ Alexander began in a mild and underwhelming tone. ‘The lowliest phalangite in this army has the opportunity to display great courage and feats of soldiery and thus be rightfully recognized as a hero worthy of his place in the Elysian Fields. Awards and honours will be bestowed on them, forever cementing their place among the titans of this conquest. The greatest among them will have ballads written in their honour and their names will admiringly roll off the tongues of Greek children for generations to come. The men assembled in this tent will never be praised publicly, nor will your deeds be recognized by anyone outside this gathering. But whose actions are more important to our conquest? The heroic soldier who does his small part in killing a dozen men in battle, or one of you standing before me who is able to elicit information, eliminate an enemy, or persuade an ally to further our strategic interests without fighting a battle in the first place? I say the latter. I want to instil in your natural human desire for recognition that, despite your lack of public acknowledgement, I consider the work you do to be of the utmost importance to this campaign.’”