‘And take this carrion-imp with you,’ Marthax said.
Kineas scooped the girl up, turned his horse and rode back to his column. She squirmed for a while and then dropped off his lap to the ground.
‘I must get my horses,’ she said.
Kineas let her go. A Scythian — even a child — was nothing without her horses, and Kineas understood the pull. Even as he watched her running across the grass towards the royal herd, he saw Prince Lot and the Sauromatae mounting up. They had fewer remounts and no wagons, and lived in tents made of heavy felt. There were two hundred of them, with another fifty wounded on travois dragged behind spare animals.
Prince Lot saw him and approached. His Greek was terrible and his Sakje stilted. After a minute, Kineas had gathered that the Sauromatae wanted to travel with the Greeks. Kineas rode on, calling for Eumenes. The boy — scarcely a boy now — had three wounds and was still in a wagon, but he was well enough to sit up and translate.
‘He says, “I wish to travel with you. I spoke to the lady — she rides too fast for my wounded.” He says, “Srayanka said that you would follow her by the Bay of the Salmon.” He says, “I can show you the road, and my wounded will have more time to rest.”’ Eumenes listened to Lot’s last phrase and gave a weary smile. He pointed at the fading dust cloud that was Srayanka and her clans. ‘He says, “She should have been queen.”’
Kineas smiled at the first good news of the morning. ‘I will be delighted to have you with us,’ he said. He repeated this until Prince Lot smiled broadly.
Kineas also had a handful of Sakje prodromoi. Ataelus had recruited them — almost twenty now — with liberal promises of horses, and made them into his own small clan, including his new wife. None of them had deserted, even the two Standing Horses, and they gave Kineas eyes far in advance of his little army wherever they marched. Another of old Xenopon’s recommendations, even though the man had probably been too conservative to approve of Kineas’s use of ‘barbarians’ for the role.
Kineas waved Ataelus in from his intense watching of the main Sakje host, and told him to include the Sauromatae in his calculations. Ataelus grunted. He rode over to the column of travois, where the adolescent girls rode lighter horses, with their bows in their hands.
‘For them, for scouting,’ Ataelus said. He spoke to Lot, who nodded.
Kineas turned to leave them to it, and started for the head of the column, but suddenly Ataelus’s wife screamed a war cry, and other scouts were shouting. He turned his horse in time to see the lanky figure of Heron, the hipparch of the hippeis of Pantecapaeum, bringing up the rearguard. He wore his perpetual scowl as he watched his troop ride by.
There was movement from Marthax’s camp. Out on the plain of grass, a dozen horses ran. Behind them came a troop of Sakje, all in armour. They were slower than the horses they pursued, and they were losing ground. Farther back, Marthax’s main line had begun to move forward.
‘Shit,’ Kineas said. He knelt on the back of his ugly warhorse and tried to see through the dust already rising over Marthax’s line. The man had three thousand cavalry — no more — and he couldn’t hope to win a pitched battle against Kineas’s hoplites and his Greek cavalry. But he could do a lot of damage by harrying Kineas’s march. He could force Kineas to waste weeks. He could cost Kineas the city of Olbia and leave the army stranded on the plain, at the mercy of the winter.
It all went through Kineas’s head in a few seconds as he watched a little girl on a white horse galloping towards him with a dozen more pale horses following her. The riders pursuing her were abandoning the chase as Heron’s rearguard blocked their way, contenting themselves with curses and bow-waving. Heron himself continued to scowl as he shouted orders to his hyperetes.
Lot had formed the Sauromatae into a block and wheeled them into line with Heron’s troop. The hoplites were already deploying to the right. Philokles the Spartan had taken his young men out of the line and was running to Heron, his transverse scarlet plume bobbing as he ran. The Greeks had been at war all summer. They could form line from column in any direction, at speed, without wasted orders.
Marthax’s line halted well out on the plain, a good two stades clear of the Greeks and the Sauromatae.
Ataelus had an arrow on his string, and he was looking at Kineas. Kineas shook his head and rode to the girl. ‘What the fuck have you done?’ he shouted at her, harsher than he meant.
‘Taken what is mine, and what is yours,’ she said. Around her milled two dozen horses, all white and flashing silver.
‘You have stolen the royal chargers?’ Kineas asked.
‘My father said that after Satrax you would be king,’ she said with the simplicity of childhood. ‘Satrax is dead. They are yours — except for the white foals. Those are mine. ’
Kineas was tempted to put her over his knee. ‘Ares and Aphrodite. Heron — give me four men with a flag of truce to return these horses.’
Heron told off troopers, who looked afraid. He rubbed his forehead and allowed his bronze Boeotian helmet to dangle on its cheek strap. ‘I prefer to be called Eumeles,’ he said. ‘At least in front of my men.’
Kineas smothered annoyance. Heron took himself very seriously, but when he wasn’t acting like an ephebe with his first lover, he was becoming a fine officer. ‘Very well, Eumeles,’ Kineas said.
The Sakje host sat silently at a distance.
Prince Lot took Kineas’s arm. He spoke quickly, emphatically, gesturing at Marthax in the opposite line.
Ataelus kneed his horse forward and translated. ‘For saying, Marthax not king. Give horses, Marthax for being king. You for making him king.’ Ataelus nodded.
The girl laughed. ‘You don’t want to be the one who makes Marthax king of the Sakje, do you?’
Kineas sat and cursed, but he didn’t want to offend Srayanka. He wished she was there to advise him.
The two forces watched each other for an hour, and then the Sakje began to trickle away. They had discipline when they needed it, but Marthax’s force was not as unified or as singular of purpose as Kineas had feared. Before his eyes, men and women rode off, collected their camps and departed — small lords first and then great lords. In three hours, Marthax had just two thousand horsemen.
At that point, Kineas ordered his line to form column. He briefed his officers — Memnon and Philokles for the foot, Diodorus and Heron and Lot for the cavalry. They were careful and slow — forming a hollow square from a line was not child’s play — and they marched with the spears on the outside and the cavalry in the middle with the wounded and the baggage.
It was late afternoon when Kineas began to believe he had broken contact. He knew how quickly Marthax could be on him if he wanted to move. The rain had started again, thunderclouds racing over the plains and pausing to soak the whole column and fill the river over its banks, so that brown water ran among the trunks of trees and washed more bodies off the battlefield, the ugly, bloated things passing down the river next to them.
‘The glory of battle,’ Philokles said by his side. He was watching two bodies bob in the current.
Kineas had halted his horse on a rise, just twenty stades south of the great bend. Philokles stepped out of the ranks of the phalanx to stand with him. In the distance, half a dozen Sauromatae girls sat their horses in a rough skirmish line on a river bluff, watching their back-trail.
Philokles pulled off his helmet and ran his free hand through his hair. Kineas ignored the Spartan’s mood. ‘If Xenophon had had a dozen Sauromatae girls, he’d never have had to worry about scouting.’
‘And he’d never have written Anabasis,’ Philokles said. His voice was flat.
Kineas laughed — his first real laugh of the day. ‘I’ve spent all day thinking about Xenophon,’ he said.
‘Because we have to get to Olbia alive?’ Philokles asked. ‘Marthax won’t follow us. His army is going home.’
‘I saw,’ Kineas said.
‘You saw, my friend, but did you think? Marthax went to council to represent the faction that demanded that the war be over. Now he pays the price — even if he wanted to fight us, or Srayanka, he couldn’t.’
Kineas hadn’t thought of it that way. ‘I knew I kept you around for a reason, Spartan.’
‘I’m an Olbian citizen now,’ Philokles said. ‘Don’t you forget it.’
They stood together as the army passed, on their way home at last, and the rain fell.
3
