stood on either side of him and he cursed them for running, and there was a lull – one of those moments when men stop fighting for no reason, or every reason.
'Eumeles!' Satyrus called.
The man in the purple feather laughed. It was a hollow laugh, but not a coward's. 'Eumeles has run,' the plumes said. 'I'm Aulus, the navarch of Pantecapaeum.'
Satyrus took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another. Disappoint ment flooded him. 'I want Eumeles,' he said. 'Drop your sword and I'll spare every man on this deck.'
Aulus shook his head. 'When I'm bought, I stay bought,' he said, and slapped the face of his aspis with his blade. 'Come and take me.'
'Herakles!' Satyrus roared, and he went across the deck like a dart from a war machine. His aspis shattered as he rammed it into the enemy navarch's, but his sword was already moving and he ignored the massive pain in his shield arm and cut from high to low. He felt his blade bite into the man's thigh below his shield and the man screamed into his face.
And then the deck was clear, and they were moving on the waves. He looked down from the platform into the rowing decks, and the rowers looked back with slack, exhausted faces, almost uncaring if they lived or died.
He dropped the remnants of his aspis on the deck.
'Theron,' he panted. 'Theron – take command of this ship.'
Theron saluted silently.
Satyrus got over the rail with a hundred times the effort with which he'd come aboard and all but fell into his own ship. But willing hands caught him and put him on his feet, and Philaeus embraced him.
'Look, lord!' he shouted in Satyrus's ear, as if Satyrus might have become deaf.
Neiron was pounding his back.
The sea battle, such as it had been, was already over. And the enemy squadron on the distant beach was still there, bows moving in the gentle seas, sterns still clenched in the mud. One enemy ship was skimming the waves, just going ashore.
'That will be Eumeles,' Satyrus said. 'We're not done yet.'
Neiron pointed at the enemy camp beyond their line of ships. At the landward edge of the camp, an army was formed, and beyond it, men were dying.
'Ares,' Satyrus muttered.
'They started the battle without us,' Neiron said.
Satyrus couldn't make out who was fighting, although he could see Urvara's Grass Cat standard on a far hill.
'But…' Satyrus shook his head. His sword arm was a dead thing, and he massaged the muscle at the top of his arm. 'To Tartarus with them. We've won. We don't need a land battle.'
Neiron pointed at a swirling cavalry melee several stades away to the east. 'Try telling them.'
Satyrus took a deep breath, tempted to rail against the gods. A land battle just risked his sister without accomplishing anything. By crushing Eumeles at sea and trapping him here, far from his city, the war was over. He breathed again.
'Helios!' he called. 'Signal 'All ships rally on me'.'
Helios had a bandage on his arm and a blank look on his face.
'Helios!' Satyrus said again.
'Lord?' the boy answered.
'Signal 'All ships rally on me'!' Satyrus put a hand on the boy's head. 'You going to live, lad?'
Helios nodded sheepishly.
Satyrus turned to Neiron. 'As soon as Panther comes up, I'm putting him in charge with orders to burn those ships or take them. Then I'm going ashore by boat – to the beacon.' He pointed at the beacon burning in the strong fort on the opposite headland.
But Panther didn't come. Abraham did, and Satyrus gave him the command.
'Don't delay. Go in and drag their ships off the beach, or throw fire into them under cover of your archers.' Satyrus was going to continue, but he could see irritation on Abraham's face.
'I think I can be trusted to burn some ships,' he said. But then he smiled. 'By god, Satyrus – we're doing it!'
'Not done yet,' Satyrus cautioned. Then he dropped into the small boat that they towed under the stern. 'Row!' he said.
24
The day after Samahe died saw the least combat of any day since the start of the campaign.
Both sides were exhausted.
At dawn, Melitta moved her camp, dragging her tired army by force of will to go south and west along the Tanais another thirty stades. They went up the ridge behind the Ford of Apollo's Shrine and camped behind the crest. The weather was clear and the sun high, and as soon as they stopped moving, most warriors were on their backs, sleeping in the sun.
Melitta arranged guards and put every man in the camp that could make an arrow to fletching. She did these things herself, or through her guard, because the level of exhaustion was so high that she could no longer trust that her chiefs would get everything done. So Laen and Agreint stalked the camp, waking men up to ask after fletchers, while the rest of them under Scopasis stripped their armour and became scouts.
Coenus seemed unfazed, despite riding a thousand stades and fighting. He shrugged. 'This was my life,' he said simply.
Ataelus shook his head. 'I for horse – every day for horse. But you? Greek man.'
Coenus nodded. 'You served with Kineas. I had eight years of it.'
Ataelus nodded. 'We need for Kineax.'
Melitta didn't know what to make of that. So she said nothing.
After she had her guards out and when the pile of arrows was growing at a rate that seemed glacial but would have to do, she went to Coenus. 'I need to be in touch with Urvara every day,' she said. 'Will you be my herald?'
Coenus nodded. 'T hat's good thinking. I'm away. Can I put the seed of an idea in your head?'
Melitta shrugged. 'Of course.'
Coenus pointed at Temerix. 'The farmers could hold that ford all day. Against the whole of Upazan's force.'
Melitta shook her head. 'So? Upazan's on the same side of the river as we are.'
'He is now,' Coenus said. He already had the reins of his horse. 'If you retired across the river, he'd be stuck on the wrong side. Quite a ride north to get to the next ford, or take truly staggering casualties to get through Temerix.'
Melitta rubbed her chin. 'I see it.'
Coenus nodded sharply. 'I'm not saying that it is the right thing to do. But…'
Melitta looked downstream. 'No enemy boats for two days.'
Coenus nodded. 'Makes you wonder. I'll be back in three hours.' And he was gone. Melitta saw, with the eyes of a commander, that his horse's hooves raised dust today where yesterday the ground had been soft.
Good to know.
She lay down and slept. Coenus returned while she was drinking beer with Temerix, outlining for him how she'd like him to drive stakes into the ford. 'Well?' she asked. 'Eumenes of Olbia is a day's march away – I saw a girl called Lithra, a spear-maiden of the Cruel Hands, who'd just ridden in with a message.' Coenus said this in a loud voice, and men making arrows looked up, and many of them smiled. The Cruel Hands were the royal tribe, and heaviest in warriors.
'By the Warrior and the Ploughman,' Buirtevaert said. 'I'm sorry I doubted you, Greek.'
Graethe came up. He had a wound on his chest that was suppurating through his wool coat. Melitta
