Alexander took part and came away the all-comers champion, I was at another
battle, of which I’m the only surviving witness, the only one who can call out
the names of those who took part. At the time, I also gave a certain amount of
thought to the fact that I was the only son of Eutychides who wasn’t at the
battle, the only son of Eutychides who got home that night, albeit with my own
little consolation prize of a twisted ankle. It bothered me, I have to say, and
not just because the seventh of Metageitnion turned out to be a bad day all
round for the Eutychides boys; to be the only one left (or left out), twice in
one day
— you can’t help thinking about things like that, even if you’re not a great and
notorious philosopher.
I don’t know. The best rationalisation I’ve heard so far is the story about the
enormous snake, and I don’t believe that for a moment.
What I dislike most of all about catastrophic tragedies is the amount of extra
work they cause. They hauled me back to my house, propped me up in a chair with
my twisted ankle on a footstool and started arguing with each other. A Founder
by the name of Agesilaus (as soon as the news reached the city the Founders had
suddenly materialised, like monsters in a bad dream, and scampered round to my
house in a flock; they were all there, looking impatient and helping themselves
to wine and figs, when I was carried in) immediately demanded that we abandon
the colony and return to Macedon, before the Scythians swooped down and
massacred us all; to hear him talk, you’d think the whole plain was carpeted in
Scythians squashed together heel to toe, with scarcely any room to breathe, let
alone draw a bow. About two-thirds of the remaining Founders all started
jabbering at once; we were here to stay, we weren’t going to be chased out of
our homes by a bunch of renegade savages, immediate retribution employing the
maximum degree of force, where was Marsemleptes when he was needed, something
must be done. I’d have been quite happy to let them babble themselves hoarse,
even though it was my wine they were lubricating their throats with; but my
friend Tyrsenius, who’d also appeared out of nowhere or who might have been
there before they arrived, saw fit to intervene at this juncture, pointing out
that even as he spoke Marsamleptes was out hotly pursuing the marauders and
would doubtless return at any moment with their heads woven into a string, like
onions. At this, the other third of the Founders boiled over, like an unwatched
pot on the fire — on whose authority, how dare he escalate the incident and risk
bringing the whole Scythian nation down on our heads, he would be held
personally responsible, although in accordance with the chain of command
ultimate responsibility lay with the oecist—
‘Hey,’ I objected feebly. ‘All of a sudden it’s my fault. Did I miss something?’
A pointy-faced Founder called Basiliscus nodded enthusiastically. ‘As de facto
commander-in-chief—’ he began; but he didn’t get any further, because at that
moment Theano, who’d been hovering in the background with a big basin of
steaming water and a bandage, sprang at him, emptied the bowl over his head and
bundled him out of the door. He was too stunned to resist.
‘And the rest of you,’ she said, scowling horribly. ‘Get out. And you,
Tyrsenius. Go on.’
If it’d been a band of marauding Scythians, they might just have hung about and
tried to argue the toss. Since it was Theano in full Cerberus mode, they did the
only sensible thing and left without a word.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I think.’
She frowned. ‘What the hell do you think you’ve been playing at?’ she replied.
‘Sit still.’ She swept out into the inner room and came back with the basin
refilled. ‘Let’s get this ankle strapped up first.’
‘I have an idea,’ I said, as she wrapped the bandage round, ‘that throwing the
city council out into the street is a severe breach of protocol.’
‘Good. And besides, if anybody’s going to get into trouble for it, it’ll be you.
The chain of command, and all that stuff.’
‘That’s all right, then,’ I said.
‘Glad you think so. Now, is that too tight?’
‘What, the bandage? No, not really.’
‘Then it’s not tight enough. Hold still while I just—’
‘Hey!’
She pulled the bandage tighter still and tied it off. ‘If you had any sense
you’d rest it,’ she said, ‘but I never yet saw a man who had that much sense.
Just try and go easy on it, or it’ll be months before it’s right again.’
They were back before very long, but this time they asked nicely before they
came trooping in. This time, they had Marsamleptes and a couple more Illyrians
with them, plus Tyrsenius (honorary interpreter), one or two farmers and
Ptolemocrates’ widow. There weren’t enough seats, needless to say, so Tyrsenius
sent my son and a couple of other lads to borrow chairs, trestles and
saw-horses; meanwhile, the later arrivals had to make do with standing or
crouching on the floor.
Marsamleptes, who looked very tired, made his report in incomprehensible
Illyrian, and one of the men with him translated it into passable Greek as they
went along. There were a few raised eyebrows, sharp intakes of breath and other
histrionics as he reported that they’d found no trace of the raiders beyond the
two dead Scythians, but I ignored them pointedly.
‘All right,’ I said, summing up. ‘Looks like it might well have been a cattle
raid or a spur-of-the-moment lark by some of the young braves. Quite likely it
wasn’t officially sanctioned in any way. Any suggestions as to where we take it
from here? Sensible suggestions,’ I added.
‘Sure,’ replied one of the Founders, whose name escapes me for the moment. ‘We
should retaliate. They’ll think better of bothering us again if we burn a few
houses and run off their horses.’
A farmer by the name of Chersonesus replied to that. ‘Maybe that’s exactly what
they said when they were planning the attack,’ he said. ‘And if we attack them,
what’s the odds they’ll feel obliged to reply in kind? Next thing we know we’ll
have a war.’
‘And there’s more of them than there are of us,’ someone else pointed out.
‘All the more reason for giving them a really nasty jolt,’ answered one of the
Illyrians. ‘Look at it the other way. If we do nothing, what kind of message is
that going to send them? I say we’ve got no choice; hit them hard, and then try
talking.’
‘Agreed,’ said a Founder. ‘People like that only understand one thing.’
Before the debate could develop further, the extra chairs arrived, and we were
held up for a minute or so while the people who were standing fought over them.
In the end there was one singularly rickety-looking saw-horse left over, and
three men who preferred to stand rather than trust it.
‘We’re getting out of control here,’ I said. ‘This is probably how the Trojan
War really started, and any other war you care to name. I agree that we can’t
just ignore what
’s happened, that’d be asking for trouble. So would responding
to an unofficial attack with an official one. No, the sensible thing would be to
talk first, and fight only if that doesn’t do any good.’
‘Wonderful,’ jeered the Founder Agesilaus. ‘Give them notice we’re going to
attack, so they’ve got time to get ready. Was that the kind of military theory
you taught back when you were a schoolmaster? If so, gods help Macedon.’
I shook my head. ‘They’ll be expecting an attack right now, don’t you worry,’ I
replied. ‘I’m afraid the element of surprise is a luxury we just don’t have.
Look, what we’re doing here is setting a precedent for whatever troubles we have
with them in the future — and there’ll be trouble, mark my words, so we might as
well use our brains here and see if we can’t come up with something a little bit
more advanced than starting a fight. After all,’ I couldn’t help adding, ‘I
thought this was supposed to be the Ideal City . If we’re really superior
citizens, let’s try acting the part.’
Ptolemocrates’ widow didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Excuse me,’ she burst out,
‘but it’s my husband who’s just been murdered, and you’re the people who’ve got
to do something about it. I can’t believe I’m hearing this; talk nicely to the
people who slaughtered my husband—’
That was more the sort of thing the meeting wanted to hear. I wasn’t having any,
though. ‘Oh, fine,’ I said. ‘You just lost your husband; let’s see if we can’t
widow a few more women too, to keep you company. Yes, all right,’ I added
quickly, ‘that wasn’t a nice thing to say, I’m sorry. But sometimes the truth
can be ugly. We’ve had a terrible shock — dammit, I was there, it could just as
easily have been Theano as you making that particular speech. But we’ve got to
use our heads now, if we don’t want to throw away everything we’ve worked for
these past ten years. Otherwise we might as well do what Agesilaus here
suggested when the news first broke and pack up and go back to Macedon — I
notice he’s changed his tune since, for which I’m grateful. Or is there anybody
else here who thinks we should do that?’
Nobody said anything.
‘All right,’ I said, ‘here’s what I suggest — and it’s only a suggestion,
nothing more; this is a free city, and we’ll abide by our principles. We send a
mission to the Scythians and demand that they hand over the men who did this. We
make it absolutely clear that if they don’t, they’re going to regret it. Then we
see what happens before we do anything we might have cause to regret later. My
guess is they’re absolutely terrified right now, expecting us to come tramping
across the fields in full armour with burning torches. Let’s show them we’re not
savages, and maybe we’ll find out they aren’t savages either. Well? Anyone got
anything to say?’
Nobody had; and, to my intense relief, they went away and left me to the serious
bout of delayed shock I’d been needing to get out of my system for the last hour
or so. Please remember, this was the first time I’d been involved in fighting,
or seen violent, deliberate death. It was all right for the Illyrians, and most
of the Macedonians as well. They’d been soldiers, they knew about this sort of
thing, whereas I knew about it only to the degree that I know about Ethiopia —
I’ve read about it and on balance I believe that it exists, and I have a vague,
probably entirely false mental image of what it’s probably like. I suppose it
was just as well that I had the familiar, almost comforting business of sorting
out the idiotic squabbles of my contemptible fellows to take my mind off it all.
If I’d been one of them, with someone else to load the responsibility onto, I
expect I’d have been scared out of my wits.
Once I’d pulled myself together and dealt with the urge to crawl under a couch
and curl up into a tight little ball, I forced myself to figure out what needed
to be done.
In theory, we Founders were merely the representatives of the colonists, and any
major decision should have been put to a full Assembly and argued out until a
consensus was agreed. The hell, I decided, with that; time was of the essence
here, and what the colonists really wanted was to be told that everything was
under control and nothing like this would ever happen again. Failing that, of
course, they’d all want their say (or their shout, more like) and if the embassy
idea didn’t work, I was quite happy to indulge them, if only to avoid having to
take responsibility for the management of what could turn into a genuine war.
I thought it over for a few minutes, then yelled for Theano, who was still in
the back room.
‘Did you hear all that?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘It says something when the most sensible, practical person among
this city’s leading citizens turns out to be you,’ she said sweetly. ‘On
balance, maybe packing up and going home really would be the best thing—’
‘Do me a favour,’ I interrupted. ‘Go and fetch Agenor and Marsamleptes, tell
Marsamleptes to get twelve good, reliable men, with their armour on but under
their big cloaks, swords only. Tell Eupolis to get the horse saddled up. All
right?’
She nodded. ‘Just those two?’ she said.
‘Who else would you suggest?’ I asked.
She considered for a moment. ‘Polybius,’ she said. ‘I know he’s a Founder but
he’s too meek and wet to interfere, and you’d better take one of them with you
or the others’ll play war.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘That’s sensible. Anyone else?’
‘Tyrsenius.’
I scowled. ‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.
She shook her head. ‘For one thing,’ she said, ‘you’ll need him as an
interpreter for the Illyrians—’
‘Balls,’ I interrupted. ‘I know more Illyrian than he does. Come to think of it,
so do you. So does Anthemius’ daughter’s pet ferret, come to that.’
‘Also,’ she went on, rather rudely ignoring me, ‘the Scythians know him and
trust him, it’ll be useful to have someone they—’
I held up my hand. ‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘What do you mean, “know and trust”? How
the hell can that be? We haven’t had anything to do with them for years.’
Theano frowned a little, as if she’d realised she’d been indiscreet. ‘Tyrsenius
has,’ she replied. ‘He is a merchant, remember, he’s got to have someone to
trade with. He’s been dealing with them for ages.’
‘Really,’ I said. ‘What’s he been dealing in?’
‘Corn for oil, wine, dried fish, pottery, a few other bits and pieces—’
‘What other “bits and pieces”?’
She shrugged, just a little bit too vigorously. ‘Oh, you know. Jewellery. The
odd piece of furniture. Cloth. Metalwork. The usual things.’
I looked at her. ‘Metalwork,’ I said.
‘Sure, metalwork,’ she said. ‘Big bronze mixing-bowls. Lamp-stands. Ornamental
breastplates. You know the sort of—’
‘You mean armour,’ I said.
‘A few bits of armour. That ornate, d
ecorated stuff, status symbols really. Only
a few pieces.’
I breathed out through my nose. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Tyrsenius has been selling
armour and weapons to the Scythians for — how long did you say?’
‘I didn’t. And you said weapons, not me.’
‘A considerable time, then. Years rather than months.’
‘It’s a very popular line. And it’s not as if they don’t have perfectly good
weapons of their own. Better, in fact.’
‘Oh, so I’m right about the weapons, then.’
‘You’re blowing it up out of all proportion,’ she said angrily. ‘He hasn’t sold
them anything they can’t make for themselves; and if they didn’t buy from him,
they’d get the stuff from Olbia City or Odessus. And really, it’s just expensive
toys for a few of the top men.’
‘Armour and weapons,’ I repeated. ‘And you’ve known about it all this time and
never saw fit to mention—’
‘So? There’s all sorts of things I don’t tell you. And you know
why? Because they aren’t important. Euxenus, I saw a thrush today. Euxenus,
Calonice bought a jar of sprats the day before last. Euxenus, one of the straps
has gone on my second-best pair of sandals...’
‘All right.’ I held up my hand again. ‘We’ll talk about it later. Is it your
considered opinion that I should take Tyrsenius with me?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘All right, fetch him as well, though it’s against my better judgement. Anyone
else?’
She nodded. ‘Me,’ she said.
‘You?’ I snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If they get the idea that we let women
participate in making decisions—’
‘Actually,’ she said coldly, ‘many Scythian tribes have women elders, it’s quite
usual in many parts of the region. But that wasn’t what I meant. I think you
need someone to carry the jar.’
‘Jar?’ I furrowed my brow. ‘What jar?’
‘The one with the snake in, of course. Do you know why the Scythians have left
us alone all these years? Well?’
I stared at her. ‘You don’t mean—’
‘Of course. Once they heard the colony was led by a great wizard with a familiar
serpent.
I groaned. ‘Marvellous,’ I said. ‘All right, you come along as the high
priestess or whatever. Now go and round the rest of them up, quick as you like.
Alexander at the Worlds End Tom Holt Page 35
