Tyrant: Storm of Arrows (53 page)

Eumenes nodded. ‘Where is he now?’

Alexander had a rough sketch of Sogdiana on his camp table, although it showed nothing but towns, rivers and mountains. And even then, most of the distances were guesswork, even after a year’s campaigning. ‘Up where the Polytimeros meets the Sogdian mountains. He’ll be on the north bank of the Polytimeros, shadowing us.’

Eumenes looked at the map. ‘If he’s on the Polytimeros, we’ll catch him against the northern wall of the valley.’

‘Exactly,’ Alexander said. He glanced out of the door of his tent - checking for Hephaestion, no doubt. ‘If he was smart enough to beat Craterus, he’ll be smart enough to avoid getting trapped.’

‘If he’s not on the Polytimeros?’ Eumenes asked.

‘Track him. But mostly, keep him - and Spitamenes - off me while I manoeuvre. I have thirty thousand men to concentrate on the Jaxartes, and if one of these bandits gets into my rear—’ He shrugged. Morale among the Macedonians was low. They weren’t likely to desert or fight poorly, but mutiny was always possible when they felt hard done by. Both men knew it. They would march for ever without wine or oil - when they were happy.

‘So you’re going to the Jaxartes?’ Eumenes asked. He’d heard rumours, but armies were full of rumours.

‘Now. I’ve already started some of the troops in motion. I need to beat the Massagetae before they join hands with Spitamenes and make themselves a nuisance.’

Eumenes nodded. ‘The Massagetae have made no move to attack us,’ he said.

‘Except to send their men to harass our outposts and loaning horsemen to Spitamenes.’ Alexander’s tone was commanding. ‘When I beat them, Spitamenes will fold.’

Eumenes hadn’t risen to power with the king by cowardice. ‘I disagree, lord. Spitamenes will fold anyway. We have no need to fight the Massagetae. In fact, a message acknowledging their ownership of the sea of grass would probably end their campaign.’

‘Should I offer to pay them tribute, too?’ Alexander asked. His voice was very quiet.

Eumenes nodded slowly. ‘Very well, lord,’ he said. ‘Your mind is set.’

‘It is. Go and punish this Greek. Recruit the survivors and rejoin me. I won’t move to fight this Zarina for twenty days.’

‘Hephaestion wants this command,’ Eumenes said - not because he had any love of the king’s companion, but because he absolutely did
not
want to go chasing a wily Greek with Sakje allies on the sea of grass.

Alexander nodded. ‘I love Hephaestion with all my soul,’ he said, ‘but he is not suited for independent command. And if I ever hear that you repeated those words . . .’

Eumenes cast his eyes down to hide the gleam that must be there. Ahh! he thought. Now the game is worth playing. ‘I’ll catch this Greek, then,’ Eumenes said. ‘Perhaps I’ll bring you an Amazon, as well.’

Alexander sighed. ‘I liked the one I had,’ he said. ‘Even gravid, she had a presence. And her eyes!’ Alexander laughed. ‘Why do I tell you these things, Eumenes?’

Because you can’t tell Hephaestion
, Eumenes thought with satisfaction.

Alexander stopped him at the door of his tent. ‘Take the savage. What’s his name? Urgargar?’

‘Upazan, lord?’

‘That one. He knows the country and he has a good hate in him. Let him focus it in our service.’ The king sat back and drank a little more wine.

‘
T
here’s cavalry behind us,’ Diodorus said as soon as he rode up. It was four days since they had left the Polytimeros to ride north, the hills of the Abii on their right and the Sogdian mountains a smudge to the south. Diodorus was so covered with dust that his cloak and his face and his tunic were all the same shade. His wide straw hat had frayed around the edges. ‘
Phewf
- riding through our drag is enough to discourage any thoughts of glory.’

‘How many?’ asked Kineas. He looked back, although there was nothing to see but the tower of dust. They were a day and a night north of the last stream, and despite the heaviest load of water they could carry, the dash across the waterless plains had already brought equine casualties.

‘Eight hundred? A thousand? No remounts, according to Ataelus.’ Diodorus used the shawl over his head to wipe his face. ‘They were gaining on us, but Ataelus gave them a sting when they were watering. ’

The last water was almost a hundred stades behind them. ‘They’ll never catch us,’ Kineas said.

Diodorus smiled. ‘That’s what Ataelus said,’ he said, and coughed. ‘And that’s before he lifted fifty of their horses.’

Philokles pulled the shawl off his nose to speak. ‘Don’t dismiss them. They crossed mountains and deserts to get here.’ He nodded. ‘If we get into water trouble - we can’t go back.’

Kineas nodded. ‘I needed more to worry about,’ he said.

‘That’s why you’re the strategos,’ Diodorus said. ‘I used to command a couple of squadrons of cavalry, but now I’m a patrol leader.’ He laughed. ‘At this rate, another few weeks will see me where I started - as a gentleman trooper.’

Kineas wound his own shawl back over his face. ‘Was it so bad?’ he asked.

‘Nope,’ Diodorus said.

That night there was water - enough to madden the horses, but not enough to fill them. There was trouble, even with precautions. People became surly, mounts injured themselves and Greek notions of discipline clashed with Sakje ideas of horse care.

Kineas tried calm authority, and when that failed, he punched a Keltoi who was losing his head and then yelled himself hoarse. Angry with himself and with his command, he went to his cooking fire and sat holding his children while Srayanka checked her pickets with Diodorus. The one sandy hole in the stream bed emitted enough water to please one horse every few minutes - which mostly threatened to keep everyone awake all night.

Srayanka came back after the moon went down. She sighed and sank against his back, and together they watched the stars. ‘They slept?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Kineas said. He had kept his water bottle for them all day and given them the whole contents before they went down. They’d left enough in the bottle to make an attractive sloshing sound. He handed it to his wife and she took a sip, rolled it around her mouth and swallowed. ‘You take the rest,’ she said.

It tasted like ambrosia.

And then they were all asleep.

‘These are all the men I have killed,’ Kineas said. He began to be afraid, even in the dream. The men he had killed were so many
.
And for what? As he stood to lose his own life, he found that he had never valued it more. And every one of them had valued his life the same.

‘You are waking the children,’ Srayanka said. She sounded frightened. He listened to her cuddling the two babies and he felt -nothing.

He was a long time getting back to sleep.

In the morning, the horses were weak and difficult. There was little water in the camp and two days’ travel until they could get more. The columns set off with a minimum of fuss or orders, as if two years of campaigning had been practice for these few days when every minute counted. The ground was dry grass and hard gravel, and they moved as fast as the state of their horses would allow. Srayanka looked pinched - she was losing fluid in her milk, and she was worried for the children.

‘This is insane,’ Kineas said to her. ‘I ride to my death and you follow me to yours. The children - we must turn back.’ Every word was an effort and his mouth felt like a drunkard’s after a long night drinking.

‘Turn back?’ she retorted. ‘Do you think me weak?’ She turned around and waved a hand at the silent figures jogging along through the dust. ‘Our children are as strong as they need to be.’ She bent at the waist for a moment and then straightened. ‘We must find water.’

Kineas rubbed his beard.

Four swigs of water later, they crossed a low ridge and, meeting with Nihmu, who had been left as a guide, they prepared to turn due east, away from the sun. The mountains remained on their right hand, and all that could be seen in the distance was a shimmer of heat.

Nihmu rode up to Srayanka and silently handed her a wineskin. It sloshed with water.

The column was halted so that everyone could change horses - the only relief any of them had - and every eye was drawn to the wineskin as if it glowed with blue god’s fire.

‘For the children,’ Nihmu said. Her tone was curious - almost triumphant, or gloating.

Srayanka nodded and accepted the skin. Then she beckoned to Samahe - since Hirene’s death, Samahe had become her hyperetes
.
‘Everyone take a sip,’ she said. ‘I’ll have what’s left.’ She handed it to Samahe, who tilted it along her arm and handed it to Diodorus. Diodorus looked at it with wonder, and at her. But he, too, tipped it back briefly, before handing the skin to Antigonus, who passed it to Parshtaevalt - on and on, down the column. Kineas could follow the passage of the skin by the disturbance it made among the horses, almost as if a camel was walking among them.

When he changed horses, he chose Thalassa, because she was fresh, head high and seemed eager for him. It took him three attempts to get his leg over her back, he was so tired, and his Getae hack looked ready to drop. He could hear the sound of the skin coming back up the column. It filled his mind like something in a dream and the craving for the water drove all other thoughts from him. He imagined that the water was still cool, crisp, from some mountain stream that Nihmu had scouted.