Kineas swept his arm out to the southern bank. ‘We’re not even a pimple on Alexander’s arse,’ he said. When the comment was translated, the Sakje chiefs grinned or laughed aloud. ‘Alexander is marching east. He’s contained the problem at Marakanda and now he’s going to concentrate against Queen Zarina. The plains are dust and dried grass, and forage is brutal — poor and thin. Right?’
Ataelus nodded. They all jogged along for a few strides.
‘Alexander won’t be able to concentrate long. Not enough food. And Zarina has the whole plain north of the Jaxartes to feed her army. And you Sakje are much better at living off these plains than the Macedonians.’
Diodorus nodded. ‘I see it. He can’t turn back to hit us without upsetting his schedule.’
‘We’re racing him,’ Kineas said. ‘My guess is that he’s due south — not a hundred stades distant — moving east behind a screen of patrols. A day’s ride away.’
Srayanka shrugged. ‘And? Does this change anything we have settled?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not in the least. It means you were right. We must move fast if we are to reach Zarina before Alexander launches his attack. He must mean to cross the Jaxartes and make a late-summer campaign against the Massagetae.’
Srayanka squinted and batted at her braids. ‘Then he’s a fool. There is no water on the plains in summer.’
‘Alexander is not a fool, my dear. He can command man and beast to their limits and beyond. He took his army over the height of the mountains — yes? Even the Sakje speak of it. If he wants them to march out on to the high plains, they will.’ He looked around at them. ‘After all, isn’t this exactly what we intend to do?’
‘We are a few hundred,’ Srayanka shot back. ‘Are you satisfied that we should turn north? Or should we discuss the flight of geese and the movement of the deer on the plains?’
Kineas raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We turn north.’
When the command group had broken up, Kineas pulled his wife close. ‘I wish you would speak your mind in council,’ he said. ‘I hate the way you stand silent, fearing to interrupt me.’
‘Which side hurts the most?’ she asked, aiming a mock blow at his left.
After the next halt, Srayanka sent the prodromoi off north, leaving Parshtaevalt to screen them from the south. They made camp early at a bend in the Polytimeros, where the ruins of a mud-walled village on the south bank spoke an epic about the years of war this area had already seen. Kineas rejoined his mess group and sat with his back against a sun-warmed rock. Srayanka leaned her shoulder against him and handed him Lita. The rock was the sign of a change in terrain. The ground was rising to the east. They had arrived at the foothills of the Sogdian.
Darius squatted on his heels, drinking captured wine. He was clothed from head to foot like a Mede and seemed embarrassed by the nudity of the many Olbians bathing in the bend of the Polytimeros.
‘Welcome back. You found Spitamenes?’
Darius nodded. Kineas put an arm around him. ‘I gather Spitamenes has sworn to stay clear of us,’ he said, ignoring Darius’s clothes.
‘He is mortified that he has incurred your enmity,’ Darius said. He flicked a glance at Srayanka and then looked away as if Artemis had blinded his eyes. ‘He claims that he had no idea of what Alexander intended with the Amazons — he was led to believe that the king desired only to meet some.’ He drew himself up. ‘He feels his honour is besmirched by what has befallen and he promises any remedy you and your lady require.’
Srayanka was well within earshot. She handed Satyrus to Kineas. ‘That is, as you Greeks say, the stinking manure of a dog. However,’ she smiled, ‘it suits all of us if we pretend to believe him.’
Darius looked shocked. ‘He swore on his honour!’
Kineas was surprised at the young man’s naivety. ‘You liked him!’
‘He will make a great king,’ Darius said seriously.
‘He will end with his head on a spike — or worse.’ Srayanka settled her daughter on her lap. ‘I will not forget that he gave me to Iskander — but I have a long memory and time is short.’ To her daughter, she said, ‘You may have my dislike of this Persian with your milk, little sausage.’
Darius was wearing a fine sword, a straight-bladed xiphos decorated in gold like a Sakje sword. Kineas reached out for it. ‘A gift?’ he asked.
‘Yes. He was amazed — and pleased — to find that one of my blood lived. He treasures his remaining nobles. Many men I once knew ride in his cavalry.’ He smiled at Philokles, who approached from the tamarisk trees on the bluff above them. ‘Spitamenes sent wine!’
Philokles grinned and shouted something that was lost in the sounds of eight hundred horses drinking.
Kineas nodded. ‘Darius — you may go to him, if it pleases you. You have served me well and you owe me no ransom. I killed your cousin — it is always between us. But I will never forget how you held my side in the castle of Namastopolis.’
Darius stood silent. ‘Am I dismissed?’ he asked.
‘Never,’ Kineas said. ‘But I understand the ties of common blood and custom. Spitamenes is a lord of your own people. If you desire to ride with him, go with my friendship.’
‘And mine,’ Srayanka said.
Darius couldn’t meet Srayanka’s eyes, but his glance slid to Philokles’ form walking down the last of the slope and he blushed and bowed and took Kineas’s hand. ‘I think I will ride with you a while longer,’ he said. Then, after an uncomfortable pause, he pointed to the ruins of the town. ‘Bessus revolted against Darius four — five years ago. There’s been no peace on this frontier ever since. Whichever side holds the upper hand, the other side pays the Dahae and the Massagetae to raid. Now Spitamenes continues where Bessus trod.’
‘You rode with Bessus?’
‘My father did,’ Darius said. ‘I rode with the King of Kings.’ He gave a narrow smile that didn’t touch his eyes. ‘It is the way among the Bactrian nobles — one son to each army, or perhaps two — no matter which side wins, the clan remains strong.’
Diodorus and Philokles came up with a bearded man in a dirty red linen robe over a Macedonian breastplate, the star of the royal house engraved across his chest. The man had a hooked nose and a broad forehead. He looked to be forty, or perhaps older, but well built, with an athlete’s muscles.
‘Look who the dogs caught,’ Diodorus said. He was grinning. ‘Remember this cocksure bastard?’
Kineas eyed the man. ‘Ptolemy!’ he said, smoothing his daughter’s head. He didn’t get up, but he gave the prisoner a smile. ‘Farm Boy!’
The Macedonian inclined his head. ‘I remember you, Kineas of Athens,’ he said. ‘Favourite of the gods.’ He inclined his head in mock salutation.
‘You didn’t used to believe in gods,’ Diodorus said, poking him.
Ptolemy rubbed his chin and quoted Aristophanes. ‘“If there weren’t gods, I wouldn’t be so god-forsaken,”’ he said, and they all laughed.
Philokles gave him a bowl of food. ‘Mutton?’ he asked.
‘Horse,’ said Kineas. ‘I’m sorry about the fight, Ptolemy. I didn’t know you in that get-up.’
Ptolemy looked down at the linen robe he wore over his cuirass. Then he glanced pointedly around the fire. ‘You don’t look much like Athenian hippeis yourselves,’ he said. ‘Where are the flowing locks of yesteryear? The fancy cloaks?’
Kineas smiled. ‘“If peace come again, and we from toil may be released, don’t grudge us our flowing locks, and skin so nicely greased.”’
Ptolemy clapped his hands. ‘Well quoted. Not that there’s a flowing lock in the place.’
Diodorus poked him again. ‘The Spartan here has locks enough for all of us!’
‘Last time I saw you, you were modelling a silver-chased breastplate you’d bought from a looter at Ecbatana,’ Kineas said. ‘We’re not the only ones fallen on hard times.’
Ptolemy shook his head. ‘Fucking Sogdiana,’ he said. ‘It’s brutal.’
‘Still in the Hetairoi?’ Kineas asked.
‘I served with Philip Kontos before he went back west.’ The man shrugged in the firelight. ‘After he killed Artemis, I left him for the phalanx.’
Kineas moved as if his side had pained him. ‘She is dead, then?’
The Macedonian shovelled food with his fingers. After he chewed he looked up. ‘She was our luck, just as she was yours. Kontos killed her when she chose to stay with us, the fucker. She wouldn’t go west with him.’
