‘We should ride back while the sun gives us a little light,’ Kineas said.
‘I would try to speak to the queen, if you gave me leave,’ Philokles said. He glanced at Bahareh and Ataelus.
‘When have you ever needed my permission?’ Kineas slapped the Spartan on the shoulder. ‘This is not as bad as you all seem to think. Their very chaos will serve them against Alexander. It is almost impossible to plan a battle against a hundred generals. New forces will ride on to the field all day, and each will commit themselves as they see fit, unbound by precedent or structure.’
‘What would you have the queen know?’ Bahareh asked.
Kineas was looking for their horses, tethered in a herd of magnificent horseflesh brought by two hundred chiefs. He was pleased that Thalassa held her own, surrounded by admiring Massagetae children and a dozen respectful adolescents. A severe-looking young woman handed him her reins and nodded. ‘That is a horse,’ she said. ‘You sell her?’
Kineas grinned, his thoughts suddenly infected with an image of Thalassa’s foals. ‘Never,’ he said in Sakje. ‘But I wish you may find as fine a horse.’
They nodded to each other and Kineas used his spear to vault into the saddle, showing off for the children like a much younger warrior. He leaned down to Bahareh. ‘Ask the queen’s permission for us to ride north along the river to the next ford, to guard against a flanking move. Tell her we think that Alexander will send his best cavalry and his hardest infantry across with the dawn, tomorrow or the next day, and that he will send a force to cross upriver — to the north. Ask her to allow us to stop the northern thrust.’ He caused Thalassa to circle, to the admiration of all.
‘That’s all?’ Philokles asked. ‘Alexander’s coming across and we’ll hold the northern ford?’
Kineas nodded. ‘That’s all. Trying to tell these people how to fight Alexander would be like trying to tell an Athenian how to argue. Any half-measures we push on them will only impede them.’
Bahareh looked at Kineas with respect. ‘You are wise. I expected you to tell the queen how to fight.’
Philokles nodded. ‘Wait for us. Either she will see us, or she will not. Either way we will be brief.’
Diodorus smirked. ‘Show her your muscles and you won’t be so brief, Spartan. All night, maybe.’
Philokles punched the Athenian in the knee, just hard enough to hurt. ‘She values men in her bed to just the extent that I value women,’ the Spartan said. Bahareh coughed in her hand. Philokles waved to Ataelus, who shrugged at Kineas and followed Philokles, and then his faded red cloak swirled and he was gone in the dusk.
Kineas rode his charger up and down. A boy came up on a tall horse, a captured Nisaean of which he was justly proud, and Kineas, in the grip of some daimon, accepted his offer of a race. Torches were brought and ten more riders materialized from the gloom, while Diodorus cursed him for a fool. ‘Are you a boy? With a battle tomorrow?’
‘Hush,’ Kineas said. ‘I am making a sacrifice to Poseidon.’
Diodorus pursed his lips. ‘As long as you aren’t just showing off,’ he called, as Kineas rode to the starting spear.
The race was like swimming in darkness and fire from the first surge of Thalassa’s hindquarters to the last pounding moments as the leading knot of them burst through the circle of light by the finish to a roar so loud that it rose above the debating in Zarina’s tent like an offering to the Horse-God, to whom Kineas sent his prayer winging while the Sakje embraced him for his victory.
Diodorus sat on his charger, shaking his head. ‘Are you twelve years old?’ he asked.
Kineas shook his head. ‘Let us make that sacrifice to Poseidon.’ Kineas managed to convey that he wanted to purchase a goat and the animal was brought. A Massagetae baqca, resplendent in caribou antlers and a silk robe, led them past Zarina’s tent to the camp altar. Kineas sacrificed the animal himself, slashing the beast’s throat and stepping free of the blood with practised ease. He raised the hymn with Leon and Diodorus: Poseidon Lord of Horses,
Thou lovest the clip-clop beat
Of hooves in hard-fought battle
And neighs to thee sound sweet,
And when our black-maned horses
The winning vase may gain,
Their swiftness cheers the ruler
Of the wildly tossing main…
They sang to the end, Kineas grinning like a man half his age. Philokles came up singing the hymn, and with him were many of Zarina’s commanders, and at the back of the group, Zarina herself, talking and waving her hands at Ataelus, who wore a deep frown.
Kineas stood by the altar with Thalassa beside him, surrounded by Massagetae and Dahae warriors, many of whom reached up to touch his horse. He saw a girl clip a few hairs from her tail and he was about to step in when he found himself face to face with Zarina.
‘Now I see how my young cousin could marry a Greek,’ she said. She nodded. ‘Go north if that is where you see the enemy, Kineax. I have heard the Spartan — I have understood.’ She shrugged. ‘No queen has ever faced a battle this great — with the whole might of the people. I am not a Persian, to kiss and cuddle my chiefs until they go sullenly to some carefully ordered place in the battle line. Nor am I the Qu’in, with chariots and horses and lines of men like pieces on a game board. I am the queen of the Sakje, and my chiefs will fight like dogs for a place in the line. Do as you will — you are a man of war. Those are my orders to you, as they are the orders I give to every chief — you are a free man. Do as you will.’
As they rode back, Philokles rattled on about his time with her. ‘Very much the sort of barbarian that Solon or Thales might have admired. Utterly free.’ He shook his head, barely visible in the moonlight. ‘I warned her that Spitamenes was coming. She knows him. I gather that it is a marriage of convenience.’
‘As long as he is on the right while we are on the left,’ Kineas said. ‘If he comes in front of Srayanka, she will kill him and to Hades with the consequence.’
They reached their camp in the last glow of the western horizon. Fires were lit and warriors ate their fill. Leon waited until they took their horses out to the picket lines.
‘We have food for two more days and then things will get tight,’ he said.
‘The whole host of the Sakje is in the same position,’ Diodorus said bitterly. ‘All Alexander need do is wait, and we will all melt away.’
‘Two hours ago you were ready to leave,’ Kineas said.
‘I’ve ridden all this way,’ Diodorus said, shrugging off his own mercurial comments.
‘Alexander is in the same situation. He’s converged all of his armies in the east at the edge of a desert, and he’s spent the summer fighting partisans. He doesn’t have the food stores he’s used to. We’ll fight him, tomorrow or the next day. My wager goes on the next day.’
Srayanka came up with Antigonus and the rest of the chiefs and officers, as if Kineas had called a council. They stood quietly, and Kineas smiled to think of the Sakje outside the queen’s red and white silk tent.
‘They’re fine?’ Kineas asked Srayanka.
Srayanka smiled. ‘Would I wander out here to talk of war if my children were unwell?’ she asked. She looked wryly at Samahe. ‘I am becoming my mother. When young, she rode with the spear-maidens, but in middle age, she was a mother first and her hand grew light.’
Kineas took her chin and kissed her. ‘I don’t think your hand will grow light,’ he said.
‘Let Spitamenes come under it tomorrow and we’ll see,’ she said.
‘Alexander is the enemy,’ Diodorus drawled.
‘Alexander was polite,’ Srayanka said. She tossed her head. ‘Hephaestion — that one I would geld, if only for Urvara’s sake.’
Kineas felt his guts roil. ‘I hadn’t heard this.’
Srayanka shrugged. ‘She’s a tough girl. He did not break her, and the young Olbian boy loves her, and she has healed. No more need be said. But Hephaestion…’ No one looking at Srayanka in the light of a fire needed to wonder if her hand had grown light. She cocked her head to one side. ‘So, husband, do you see it in your head?’
There in the firelight, Kineas outlined his plan. He drew pictures in the dust with the tip of a bronze knife he’d found in the fire pit. ‘Ataelus and I agree that Alexander will send a force north — either he will lead it himself or he
