hundred, because more than a third of their strength was guarding the columns and herding the animals.
Darius was off to find Spitamenes and, if he could, persuade the partisan to alliance or at least tolerance, over Srayanka’s objections.
Ataelus and his prodromoi, with Coenus and his picked men, were out in the trough of the Oxus valley and farther south and east.
It was noon before the battlefield was prepared and all the men in place. Kineas sat atop the ridge with Leon, Philokles, Diodorus and a handful of Sakje maidens as messengers. There was no shade and the sun painted them in fire; not a breath of wind stirred the dust. Anywhere that the casual exercise of riding caused bare skin to contact armour — all too common — left a line of pain. Kineas used his cloak to cover his armour and then sweltered in the gritty heat of a wool cloak.
His mouth was so full of dust that even after he rinsed and spat, his molars ground together as if he was chewing pottery.
Leon watched the wooded ground in the valley with all the stress of a lover worried for his friend. Which he was. Mosva was down there with Ataelus instead of back behind the ridge with her father.
An hour passed, and then a second hour.
A third hour.
A fourth hour.
The sun was sinking appreciably. The day was cooler. The horses were restless, eager for the water they could smell in the bed of the Oxus, signalling their displeasure with shrill calls and a great deal of stomping and rein-chewing.
Kineas watched it all in an agony of indecision and doubt. If I water the horses, and he comes — if Spitamenes refuses to cooperate — if Spitamenes comes first — if Craterus comes from the east on this side of the Oxus — if the horses require water — now? — now? — now? Where is he? Where is he?
Where is Craterus?
They saw the dust cloud before they got a report. The cloud looked to be forty stades distant, or more, but distances could be misleading on the plains. While all his friends debated its meaning, Samahe rode in, the cloud towering over her shoulder like a thunderhead. Her red leather tunic was almost brown with dust, but her chain of gold plaques glinted in the sun.
‘Craterus comes,’ she said. ‘For killing one enemy I shot.’ She mimed her draw and release. ‘Ataelus for saying “Ride and tell Kineas — he comes!” and Ataelus say word. Say “Iskander deploys!”’ She pointed. ‘And for dirt-eating Sogdii! Fight for Iskander, fight for Spitamenes. Same.’
Kineas leaned forward. ‘Samahe, are you sure these are Craterus’s men? Not Spitamenes’ Sogdae?’
‘Greek men in bronze with cloaks like yours,’ she said, nodding. She pointed.
Kineas looked around. ‘Time for the army to water their horses?’ he asked.
‘Easy,’ she answered. ‘Hour. Maybe more.’
Kineas nodded. ‘Water the horses,’ he said. ‘Craterus is on to us. We have about half an hour. Bring the whole army down; give the beasts a good drink and then straight back to your places. Push the prodromoi right across to cover the watering. Tell Eumenes to have a section ready to reinforce the picket line at need.’ And he watched in agony, waiting for the Macedonians to come and crash into his horses as they drank.
No Macedonians appeared, but there was someone out in the tamarisk scrub on the far side of the Oxus, and there was more and more dust above the flood line, and glints of colour, flashes of steel, movement. After half an hour, Ataelus’s prodromoi were under constant, if inaccurate, arrow fire from the high ground of the opposite spring bank. Nihmu came back, walking her royal stallion, which was calling loudly in pain with an arrow in his withers. Nihmu was bleeding from her shoulder. She was pale, but she came up to Kineas. ‘Ataelus asks that you send him some force. We are hard-pressed.’
Kineas nodded. ‘Get that wound looked after,’ he said. The girl was at most thirteen years old — to Kineas, too young to be in battle. But as he watched, she was taking the arrow out of her horse’s rump, crooning to the beast while she used a tiny knife to slip the barbed head free. He never kicked. When she was done, the work of a moment, she vaulted into the saddle.
‘Ride down to the river and tell Eumenes to take his sortie across,’ Kineas said. The watering was taking too long, and sending Olbians to clear the Sogdae would only slow it further.
Eumenes took almost half his troop across the Oxus. Kineas watched them trot across at the main ford and turn south in the tamarisk scrub in the valley, spreading out in a skirmish line. Every man had his javelin in his fist, ready to throw. They swept south and east, and suddenly there was a swirl of dust and a keening yell and Kineas’s guts clenched. There were Sogdae riding out of the brush, at least forty of them.
He couldn’t hear Eumenes and he couldn’t see what was happening and his imagination was worse than the reality as the dust swirled and thickened. He clenched his reins and worried, riding back and forth on his ridge. He watched the people watering their horses and tried to urge them to go faster, to cut through the crowds on the riverbank, to get back in battle order.
‘Eumenes can handle a fight with barbarians,’ Philokles said.
‘Not if he’s badly outnumbered.’ Kineas shook his head. ‘Athena, be with us in our hour of need.’ Kineas turned to Diodorus. ‘Should we send him reinforcements?’
Diodorus shook his head. ‘Let’s wait for his report. Ares, I’m getting sick of this.’
Just when Kineas was preparing to order Diodorus into the scrub, Eumenes returned, riding across the ford with six empty saddles. He was injured, blood all down one booted leg, and his face was pinched with anger and pain. ‘The scrub is full of them,’ he said. ‘Hundreds of them. Sogdians, I think — I don’t know whether they’re Craterus’s or Spitamenes’ — who in Hades can tell?’ He shook his head. ‘We rode into an ambush. I’m sorry. It is my fault.’
Kineas watched. ‘Samahe says they’re from Craterus.’ The Sakje, their mounts watered, were already clearing the Oxus and returning to their positions. The Olbians were slower, and the heavily armoured Sauromatae were used to having maiden archers to do this sort of thing while they baked like ovens. They were slow. Kineas cursed the bad luck of it all — and the loss of the remounts and manpower that the horse herds and the wagon columns had taken. Then he reached out and clasped Eumenes’ hand. ‘In war, we lose men. We carry the responsibility. ’ In his head, his words sounded unbearably pompous. ‘You did the job I sent you to do. Did you hurt them?’
Eumenes shook his head, at the edge of a sob. ‘I walked into the ambush,’ he said. ‘They were waiting in the scrub. I should know better. ’ Sullenly, he said, ‘I hurt them. I pushed them out of the scrub and back up the bank, but they’ll be back.’ He looked across the river, where the dust of the skirmish hung in the still air, and wiped his brow. He’d lost the brow band that held his hair.
Philokles reached into his shoulder pack and produced another. ‘Let me tie your hair, lad,’ he said kindly.
Eumenes continued to slouch, looking at the ground in misery. ‘I should have done better,’ he said again.
Kineas rubbed his chin. ‘Sit straight and suck it up,’ he said.
Stung, Eumenes sat straight.
‘That’s better,’ Kineas said. He nodded. ‘Let Philokles look at your wound, and then back to your troop and get the rest of the horses watered. Mourn the dead later. Help me win this thing now.’
Eumenes saluted. He dismounted and let Philokles tie his hair and look at the cut on his thigh. Before he could ride away, Srayanka rode up.
‘Let me send Parshtaevalt,’ she said. ‘We need to clear it before the fucking Sogdae make attacks on our Sauromatae.’
Kineas started to refuse. Then he looked at Philokles and Diodorus. ‘I dislike breaking up my force,’ he said.
Eumenes pulled his helmet off, his face red with exertion. He spoke cautiously, conscious of his defeat. ‘I took casualties trying to rattle them,’ he said. ‘I think that…’ He hesitated, and then drove on. ‘I think Srayanka is right.’
Diodorus nodded. ‘It wouldn’t take many of their arrows falling on the Sauromatae to cause trouble,’ he said. ‘There’s something going on with them that I don’t like.’
Kineas waited another moment, thoughts racing like a galloping horse, and then exhaled. ‘Go!’ Kineas said to Srayanka. She turned and waved to Parshtaevalt, who raised his bow and pointed one end of it at certain horsemen,
