Ajax’s eyes sparkled.
Philokles glared.
Ataelus came up mounted, and pointed to the south and east. ‘Kam Baqca,’ he said. ‘And some friends.’ He leaned down from the saddle. ‘The Grass Cats say you airyanam.’
Niceas touched his amulet and downed some tea. ‘The Grass Cats are idiots, too.’
Kam Baqca came up the ridge in the full regalia of a priestess, with a high helmet of gold, topped by a fantastic winged animal. She had a gorget and scale armour all covered in gold, and she wore it over a hide coat of unblemished white. She rode a dapple grey mare, and behind her came another rider as magnificent, carrying a tall pole decorated with bronze birds and horsetails, and it was covered in bells that made an eerie noise like waves of the sea as she moved.
With her were half a hundred men and women as well armed and armoured as she. Every horse had a headdress that made the animal look like a fantastic beast — horn and leather worked to give each horse antlers and a crest of hair, and their horses, where their skin showed beneath all the armour, were painted red. Their manes were filled with mud and had dried erect. Most of the horses had scale armour of gold and bronze like the warriors, so that they might have been griffons or dragons born from myths.
They were the most barbaric sight Kineas had ever seen.
Behind them came Petrocolus, and the last troop of Olbian horse.
In the wedge of time before the fresh cavalry arrived, Kineas issued his orders, or rather, reviewed them. At his feet, they were already being carried out. Licurgus was forming the Olbian phalanx at the edge of the marsh, and the men of the main force of Pantecapaeum were filing down the hill and over the marsh, forming up as soon as they were clear of the wet ground.
Petrocolus came up on his right hand. He looked down the hill under his hand, and then saluted. ‘We’re in time,’ he said wearily.
‘A late guest is still a welcome guest,’ Kineas said. He offered his hand and they clasped.
‘We tried to catch Cleomenes,’ Petrocolus said with a shrug.
‘He made it to Zopryon,’ Kineas said.
‘I know,’ Petrocolus said. ‘So we pushed on here.’
Kineas leaned over and embraced the old man. ‘Welcome.’ Then his stomach rolled over, and he made his mouth move. ‘Leucon is dead,’ he said.
Petrocolus stiffened in his arms, and his face was grey as he pulled away. But he was a man of the old school, and he pulled himself erect. ‘He died well?’ Petrocolus asked.
‘Saving his troop,’ Kineas said.
Petrocolus grunted. ‘Cleitus’s whole line, dead. He has no other children alive. The archon will take his fortune.’
‘No he won’t,’ said Kineas. ‘When we are done here, you and Eumenes will go settle accounts in Olbia.’
‘That viper’s son still walks the earth?’ Petrocolus spat.
‘Do not hold Eumenes responsible for his father’s treason,’ Kineas said.
Petrocolus avoided his eye and spat again.
Kam Baqca came up on his left side. Her face was a white mask of paint, and the paint and the gold rendered her inhuman.
‘I thought you would go with the king,’ Kineas said.
‘This is where the monster must be stopped,’ she said. ‘So this is where I will die. I am ready.’ The inhuman face turned towards him. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
Their eyes met, and hers were calm and deep. The hint of a smile cracked the paint at the corner of her mouth. ‘I see it to the end,’ she said. ‘And it is still balanced on the edge of a sword — indeed, on the point of an arrow.’
‘I’m ready,’ he said. He had his armour on, and all his finery — a little worn from two days in the saddle, but still fine. ‘And the king?’ he asked.
‘Gone to the sea of grass,’ she answered.
‘Will he come in time?’ Kineas asked.
‘Not for me.’ she answered.
Kineas nodded. He motioned to Sitalkes, waiting patiently, like all the men of his troop, for their turn to descend the ridge. ‘Stay at my shoulder and carry my spears,’ he said.
The young Getae saluted like a Greek and took his javelins. Kineas pushed past the horses of the other officers to where a troop slave stood with Thanatos. The big animal was trembling. Kineas vaulted on to his back, and the stallion grunted, slumped — and fell.
Kineas just managed to get clear without tangling in his cloak.
‘What the fuck?’ he said. He pointed to the slave. ‘Get me another mount.’
There was an arrow. Ironically, it was a Sindi arrow — it stuck out of the big stallion’s chest with just the fletching showing. The poor beast. And he’d never seen.
‘Here they come,’ Cleitus said.
Kineas ran to the edge of the ridge. The taxeis was coming out of the ford. Their ranks were disordered and they were bunching to the north side of the ford. Kineas knew immediately it was the rawer of the two taxeis he’d seen.
He turned back to his officers. ‘Here we go,’ he said, his heart pounding in his chest and all the calm of the early morning drained away. His hands shook like leaves in the wind. ‘You know the plan,’ he said, his voice high with tension and fear.
Philokles had his helmet on the back of his head. Once again, he was naked except for the baldric of his sword over his shoulder. The black spear was in his hand. He handed it to Kam Baqca and stepped forward to Kineas and embraced him. ‘Go with the gods, brother,’ he said. Then he took his spear from the icon on horseback, and clasped her hands. ‘Go with the gods,’ he said to her.
Philokles’ men were already standing in their ranks to the left of the Olbian phalanx. Now Philokles tossed his helmet down over his oiled, beautifully combed hair, tossed his spear, and ran straight down the face of the ridge, disdaining the trail, so that he ran across the face of his men before Arni could bring Kineas a fresh horse. His men roared.
Niceas handed Kineas an apple. It was sound, despite its age. ‘Kam Baqca brought a bag,’ he said.
Kineas took a bite, and the smell caught him, so that he thought of Ectabana and Persopolis, of Alexander and Artemis, and victory.
At his feet, the raw Macedonian taxeis was trying to restore its order. The blacksmith’s men on the thumb were merciless. They poured arrows into the shieldless flank of the taxeis. Men were dying — not many, but enough to make the whole block flinch away from the thumb, just as they had when they crossed the ford. Until their own psiloi came up and cleared the thumb, they had to take the harassment. And having crossed, they had to wheel to the right to face Memnon’s angled line — a difficult manoeuvre at the best of times, rendered more difficult by the arrows of the Sindi.
The raw taxeis was followed by the veterans. They crossed in perfect order and started to form to the left of the younger block. The First Taxeis was supposed to be anchored on the river, while the veterans had the more difficult task of covering the endless open ground on their left, where Sakje scouts already rode in close to put arrows into the phalangites.
From his vantage, Kineas could see the cavalry preparing to cross next. Zopryon was committed now.
‘He’s made a mistake,’ Kineas said quietly. He took another bite of apple.
Niceas was mocking. ‘Enough of a mistake to save us at odds of three to one?’ He waved, and the arc of his arm encompassed the whole field at their feet. ‘How long do you think our city hoplites will hold that? And where the fuck is the king?’
Kineas took another bite of his apple and chewed carefully, because it covered his nerves and put something in his stomach besides cramps. ‘Those are the questions,’ he said.
Niceas nodded. ‘Your stupid heroics cost him time, I’ll give you that.’ He turned to look at Kineas. ‘Will he let you die here to win the lady, Hipparch?’
Red-cloaked companions were coming up on the right, flanking the veteran phalanx, and behind them, more cavalry — companions and Thessalians. Kontos would be there, now, trying to get his men formed to face the
