Kineas walked across the sand to his fallen sword and retrieved it, his mind hot with the desire for revenge. But he thought of Niceas, and Graccus, and the fight in the alley, and the pain and the blood. And how much he owed Phocion. He stood straight despite ten new bruises. He pushed his brain to consider Phocion’s attack — something subtle in the feint. He decided on a simple solution.
‘I am ready,’ he said, settling into his stance, shield forward, sword back. He moved out cautiously and Phocion danced around him, but this time Kineas didn’t offer his sword. He stayed behind his shield, accepted a light blow on his hip and a stinging cut that drew blood from his shield-side knee. Phocion made a back cut and Kineas exerted the full force of his will to avoid the response he had been taught — a cut at the opponent’s wrist. Instead, he simply stepped back and blocked with his shield. It was dull, and the weight of the shield pulled at his arm, and after some minutes Phocion feinted low and thumped him on the head and he fell. Phocion extended a hand and drew him to his feet.
‘You are a man,’ he said. He grinned. ‘I suspected as much.’
Kineas nodded. His head hurt.
Phocion smiled at him. ‘What is my new feint, Kineas?’ he asked.
Kineas rubbed his head. ‘No idea, master. It starts with a faked sloppy back cut.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It only took me ten tries to establish that.’
Phocion nodded. ‘And how do you defeat it?’ he asked.
Kineas shook his head. ‘No idea, master.’
Phocion grinned, looking much younger. ‘You may yet be the best of my students, young blowhard. Go and oil yourself and get a rub.’
Graccus shook his head. ‘I don’t understand, master,’ he said.
Phocion shrugged. ‘You will,’ he said.
Kineas smiled at Phocion. ‘I understand,’ he said.
And then he was on a branch of the tree, higher than he had ever been.
And then he dreamed that he was a god — Zeus incarnate — and that in his hand he held the thunderbolt, which gleamed with white fire and jumped in his hand, and yet seemed to be composed of men and horses..
And he awoke with the taste of hubris in his mouth.
In an hour, the whole column was moving. They rode north and west along the Oxus, with Mosva’s brothers, Hektor and Artu, as well as Gwair Blackhorse all out front guiding the column. They had ten thousand horses and the combined force was four stades long from Kineas at the front to the last Sauromatae maidens, wreathed in scarves, who rode in the dust clouds at the rear, herding the cattle.
Twice they saw distant figures on horseback. Kineas ordered the scouts not to pursue, but he put more Sauromatae out as a screen. He didn’t want every tribal chief within a thousand stades to know the make-up of his column.
Now they were at the Macedonian frontier. The Polytimeros was the edge of Alexander’s lines.
Late in the second morning since Nihmu’s return, scouts reported that the forks of the Polytimeros were ahead, and an hour later, as they ate their cold porridge while their horses cropped grass, Ataelus returned. He kissed Samahe, the two entwined like two trees on a wind-blasted island in the Aegean, and then Ataelus wrenched himself from her and turned to Kineas. He grinned.
‘Philokles say “Come now!”’ he said. ‘Luck for standing at shoulder. More stuff like Philokles for saying.’ Ataelus shrugged, grinning.
Kineas gestured at the column. ‘Here we are,’ he said.
‘Come now!’ said Ataelus.
‘I told you,’ said Nihmu. Ataelus ruffled her hair and she grinned.
‘How far?’ Kineas asked.
‘Two days, for riding like Sakje.’ Ataelus emphasized this with his fist. ‘Like Sakje.’ He grinned again. ‘Come for rescue Lady Srayanka. Strike blow against Iskander.’ His fist smacked into his open hand with a noise like a breaking gourd. ‘Hurry! Philokles says for…’ the chief of the prodromoi scrunched up his face, remembering, ‘ utmost hurry. Yes?’ He looked around at his friends. ‘Ride like Sakje!’
Kineas turned to Diodorus. ‘Water the horses. Every man to have his remount handy.’
Diodorus saluted. ‘Ride like Sakje!’ he said with relish.
20
Philokles met them in a grove of willows four hundred stades further east, on the banks of the Polytimeros, which swelled there to be more than a stade wide and flowed just dactyloi deep. The willows were ancient and there were three different altars arrayed beneath the canopy. Darius was asleep under an awning of cloaks held on spears.
Kineas dismounted in the cool shade and they embraced.
‘I have seen her,’ Philokles said.
Kineas felt the slow flame of hope rekindle in his heart.
‘Get your column under cover of the trees and let’s talk,’ he said. He looked thinner, and beneath his eyes were circles of darkness like a mask of despair.
Eight hundred warriors with ten thousand horses are difficult to hide, but Diodorus and Andronicus and Bain did their best while Kineas drank water and Darius roused himself from sleep. He looked as wrecked as Philokles.
When he was seated, Philokles began.
‘We were lucky,’ he said. ‘And I disobeyed you. I convinced Ataelus to stay with me and let the queen’s messenger find his own way home. I took Darius to Alexander’s camp. Alexander has so many stragglers since the massacres on the Jaxartes that I walked straight through the sentries without a question.’ He shrugged. ‘I won’t make an epic of it. Darius found the women by posing as a slave. I learned — almost without effort, I must concede — that a column of mercenaries was to march to the relief of Marakanda.’
Darius nodded. ‘I learned that Alexander ordered the Amazons to Kandahar. One of them is pregnant and Alexander wants her to deliver among his women. She is to be escorted by the relief column for Marakanda.’ He gave Philokles a smile. ‘It was as if the gods intended us to know — the Amazons are a three-day wonder in the camp, and there is no security. Tribesmen come and go. Alexander is recruiting Sogdians, and any barbarian with a bow can ride in through the gates.’
Kineas shook his head. ‘This is so much like a miracle that it seems like a trap. How many in the column?’
‘Two thousand men. Greek mercenary infantry, and a more polyglot crew of scum you can’t imagine. I’d have been decarch in another day. I had to leave before they placed me in command of the whole expedition. ’ He gave a tired smile. ‘Four hundred mercenary cavalry under an officer I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘Listen, Kineas, Alexander is mad. Worse, the distrust and the politics of that camp are as bad as anything I’ve ever seen. It is not so much an army as a collection of factions. The death of Parmenion has cut them hard.’
Kineas nodded. ‘He did a lot of the work,’ he admitted.
‘And a handful of Hetairoi, with some mounted Macedonian infantry as prodromoi and a hundred Macedonian cavalry under Andromachus,’ Darius said, completing the report. He jerked a thumb at the men in column picketing their horses. ‘We can take them.’
Kineas winced. ‘Companions?’ he asked. His tone reminded them of what a tough proposition a few hundred Companions on wretched played-out horses had been a year before.
Philokles rubbed his beard. ‘You are right to be cautious. The Macedonians are dangerous — every one of them is as good as a Spartiate. They’ve been out here so long that war is the only life they know.’ His tone was frankly admiring.
‘So much for the philosophy of peace,’ Kineas said mockingly.
‘I was born a Spartan,’ Philokles said with slow dignity. ‘Philosophy was learned later.’
‘Yet you think we can take them.’ Kineas started to ease himself out of his breastplate.
Philokles stood. ‘Right here,’ he said. ‘They’ll be here in two days. I sat in the command tent and listened to
