King of the Bosphorus t-4

by Christian Cameron

  'If we don't fight today, we'll raise Tanais tomorrow,' Satyrus said. 'I dislike dividing my forces.'

  'Tomorrow, really?' Diodorus asked. He looked at Crax.

  'Transports only slow us down,' Diokles observed. 'Leave 'em here and we'll double our chances of catching that bastard.'

  'Try the Coracanda,' Leon said.

  'That's it!' Satyrus said. 'I need – one of the fishermen. Darius? Are they gone?'

  'Stayed for the wine. And the reward.' Darius was chewing bread, uncharacteristically human. 'I'll fetch them.'

  The fishermen were delighted to receive a silver mina each for their part in the rescue.

  'And the same again if you'll pilot us around the island and through the Coracanda.' He looked at them expectantly. Leon spoke to them in Maeotian, and they shrugged.

  Phanagoreia island filled the north end of the strait. The main channel ran north and west, away from Tanais. Satyrus knew from childhood that there was a much narrower channel east around the island, a channel that ran all the way up to the mouth of the Hypanis. The enemy fleet knew these waters, too – or had pilots who would – but they'd taken the safe channel.

  'What's the Coracanda?' Diokles asked.

  The fishermen all shuffled their feet.

  'It's an old channel through sandbanks. It runs east of the island and it'll cut hours off our time.' Satyrus was emphatic.

  Diodorus nodded. 'It won't save you that much time,' he said, 'but it'll save us three hundred stades. We'll be at the Hypanis by tonight.' He'd marched and sailed here before.

  The lead fisherman scratched his beard. 'She's shallow, lord. Many places no deeper than a man is high, or even a child. And if a ship touches, she never comes off.'

  'Can you get us through? Lotus has the deepest draught.' Satyrus spoke to the fishermen, but he sent Helios for the Rhodians and the pirates.

  The fishermen talked among themselves in their own tongue. By the time the leader spoke, Panther was there, and Demostrate.

  Satyrus was amused to see the pirate king and the Rhodian approach together, laughing. And relieved.

  He saluted both, and then the fisherman spoke. 'I can but try, lord. I can put a fisher-boat through the gullet in the dark. But these here monsters are another thing. I can't say. I don't think she's ever been done.'

  Leon shook his head. 'I've done it,' he said softly, and the other men quieted for him, even Demostrate. Leon was a man who explored, who had walked and sailed everywhere he could go. 'I took a trireme up the gullet – ten years back. And again in the Olympic year.' He nodded to Satyrus. 'We can do it.'

  Diokles made a face. 'Is it needful?'

  Satyrus nodded. 'I need those horses. One day of bad weather and they'd be dead.'

  Diokles looked at the sky and the sun, and was silent.

  An hour later, the Lotus turned out of her column, heading east up a channel that seemed from a distance to be narrower than the hull of the ship. And behind them, all sixty-five ships sorted themselves into a single column with the horse transports in the lead, each one reinforced with oarsmen from the lighter ships.

  Neiron shook his head. 'You put the heaviest draughts in front? They'll ground and plug the channel.'

  'Then we push the horses over the side and float them,' Satyrus said. 'Leon is the greatest sailor I have ever known. Let him lead.'

  Before the sun was a hand's breadth up in the sky, the line was threading its way through the channel. Satyrus looked back and there were ships as far as his eyes could see – a single line, like dancers at a festival, each ship copying the motions of the Lotus in the lead.

  'This is – mad,' Neiron complained.

  Satyrus felt the wind change on his cheek, a gentle breeze that ruffled his hair and breathed on their sterns.

  'I don't believe it,' Neiron said.

  The fisherman coughed in his hand and spat over the side for luck.

  Helios came up behind his master. 'Why are they so happy?' he asked.

  Satyrus grinned. 'The gods send us a wind,' he said, pouring a libation over the side. 'It is against our enemy, who must go north and west. And it is gentle, so that we can use it as we coast east.' He laughed. 'May it blow all day.'

  Helios made a sign, and the fleet stood on.

  22

  Upazan followed them down the Tanais, and every step of his advance was contested, and men died.

  Archers shot from woods and from barns. The woods were burned, the barns stormed. And men died.

  By the river, in the fields, in the woods and on the high ridges, men fought – a slash of bronze or iron, a flight of arrows with deadly tips. The Sakje used poison, and the farmers never surrendered. There were skirmishes in every open space. Bands of Sakje harried bands of Sauromatae, who harried the refugees, killing the weak. Women died, and children.

  Ravens feasted until they were glutted, and corpses lay on the roads and no animal mauled them, because there were so many.

  This was not war the way Melitta had seen it in Aegypt. This was the war of all against all. The farmers fought to avoid annihilation, and the Sauromatae fought to exterminate them.

  On the evening of the third day, Ataelus sat with Temerix and Melitta on a low hill, watching their exhausted rearguard retreat in a soft rain that favoured the enemy with every drop, rendering the strong bows of the Sakje almost useless.

  Ataelus shrugged. 'We kill two or three of Upazan's for every farmer, and ten for every Sakje.'

  'And yet we will run out of men first,' Temerix said.

  Melitta looked back and forth between them. 'What are you telling me?' she asked.

  Ataelus looked away, across the great river, where an eagle rose on an updraught. His face was blank, all the wild energy of the ambush drained from him by four days of heavy fighting and constant losses.

  Temerix said, 'The men on the ships are killing us.'

  Melitta nodded. She knew that the ships coming up the river to harry the farmers from the water had been an ugly surprise. Nikephoros had returned, just as Coenus had said, and established a fortified camp across the river from her fort on the bluff. Using it as a base, his men sailed up and down the river, disrupting her defences.

  'If Upazan's men actually cooperated with the tyrant's soldiers, we would be the ones taking the losses,' Temerix said.

  Ataelus sighed. 'It was a good plan,' he said, 'but it isn't working. Upazan is too strong – he must have had fifteen or even twenty thousand riders. And where are the other clans?' He sounded bitter.

  'I don't know,' Melitta said.

  'We must give up the valley,' Ataelus said. 'Send the farmers into the fort, and the Sakje ride away on to the sea of grass.'

  Temerix shook his head. 'No, brother. You will not do that.'

  Ataelus raised an eyebrow. In Sakje, he asked, 'Why not?'

  Temerix met him, eye to eye. The two had been friends and war companions for twenty years and more. But this was conflict. 'If you ride away, you will not come back. And we will die. And I will not allow that.'

  It was the longest speech Melitta had ever heard from Temerix. She met his eye. 'Listen, Temerix. My brother is coming. He has a fleet. I built that fort to buy time. If we ride away, we will come back.'

  Temerix shook his head. 'When you undertook this war, you promised the farmers that you would win.' His eyes were accusing. 'We are not your pawns to stand in that fort ringed by enemies, while your precious Sakje ride the plains, free. If we lose this war, we will be dead, or slaves.'

  Melitta drew herself up. 'Temerix, you are tired. We all are. Do not do this. We are close – we are so close.' She looked at the two of them. 'By the gods – we are not beaten. We are fighting a bloody delaying action, and we knew that it would be like this.'

  Ataelus shook his head. 'Samahe says that there is talk. That some of Marthax's chieftains talk of riding away. When there is talk like that, it is best to move first, so that they feel that their grievances got to your ear – and yet you don't seem to
have swayed in the wind but made your own way.' He shrugged. 'It is the Sakje way. Your mother knew it.'

  Melitta was tired. She had shot a hundred arrows in four days, and twice she'd been sword to sword with an enemy. Her vision was odd, her bones weary, and when she pissed, there was blood and she didn't know why.

  'Gather my chiefs,' Melitta said. 'Temerix, gather your principal men.'

  'We will have a council?' Temerix asked.

  'No,' Melitta said. They made a huge fire, consuming an old oak tree entire in a few hours of warmth and light. The nights were warm now, but not so warm that men and women didn't value a fire nearby and a cup of warm cider or mulled wine. And the fire was big enough to burn hot even in the rain.

  It was full dark – a time when exhausted fighters rolled in their damp furs and Greek blankets and tried to snatch a few hours of haunted sleep before rising in the first grey day to kill and be killed again. Fighters in total war do not come eagerly to council. Words are no longer the coin of decision, and all a warrior wants is wine to dull the aches and sleep. Oblivion.

  Melitta knew this. She walked among them, taking the mood, and it was bad. And then she stood on a stump and called for silence.

  There was a buzz as talk died.

  'Silence!' she roared. Every head turned to her, and men flinched. She wished that she had had time to change out of her armour, which weighed on her like a skin of lead, or even to rebraid her hair, to appear as a queen instead of as a tousled mouse in scale mail.

  She wished she had something heartening to say.

  'My brother is coming,' she said. As soon as she said it, she knew that she had said the right thing, so she said it again. 'My brother is coming with fifty ships and three thousand men. Hardened fighters – my father's men. We must hold out until they arrive. If we surrender the valley of the Tanais, then all this was for nothing. Every man, every woman and child who died, sky people and dirt people – all for nothing.'

  'We don't have any arrows left,' a voice called. One of Buirtevaert's leaders.

  'Half my riders have wounds,' called another. Both Standing Horses. Men who had followed Marthax against her mother.

  Melitta struggled with anger, disappointment and fear. And won. Anger wouldn't sway them. They could answer anger with anger. But a little derision… 'I have wounds on half my body,' Melitta answered, her voice strong. 'I piss blood. You, boy? Do you piss blood?'

  'I'm no boy!' the young man called, but the other warriors grunted, and a few laughed.

  Buirtevaert was close to her. 'I have pissed blood,' he said. 'It passes.' He nodded. 'My clan is hurt, lady. I have taken deaths. I have lost horses.'

  Melitta looked at him. 'Hurts heal,' she said. 'Until we take our death blow, we heal.'

  'That's what they fear,' Scopasis said behind her. His voice was quiet – advising, not deriding. 'They fear that this is the last stand of the Sakje.'

  She raised her voice, and it was firm. 'When we have defeated Upazan, we will grow our strength back. We will not waste the peace that we must buy in blood. But we must complete the job. Another week. Another few days, and my brother will come.'

  'What if he does not come?' Buirtevaert asked. He looked apologetic. 'I must ask, lady. All here follow you willingly, but we lead clans and we are the men – and women – who must keep our people alive.'

  Temerix pushed forward. He was big, bigger than most Sakje, and his black beard shot with grey shone in the firelight. 'Then we die. All of us die together. Earth people and sky people. If Satyrus does not come, we are dead.'

  'Fuck that,' called a voice from the darkness.

  'But he will come,' Melitta said.

  'If only we knew that,' Ataelus muttered.

  'Where are the other clans?' the catcalling voice asked. 'Where are the Grass Cats? Where are the Stalking Crows or the Silent Wolves? Where is the strength of the Cruel Hands? Why are we fighting this war alone?'

  Melitta took a deep breath to steady her voice. 'Why don't you come into the firelight and talk?' She looked for the voice. 'It's very safe out there in the dark, I suppose.'

  Graethe, the chief of the Standing Horse, came into the firelight. 'I had a spot I liked, lady. I have no need to hide. I ask the questions every Sakje asks. And I'll add another – why should we die for the dirt people?'

  Temerix grunted.

  Ataelus put a hand on his shoulder, and Graethe smiled. He turned to the crowd. 'The farmers cannot defend themselves, and we are too few to defend them. It is time to end this foolish war – a war Marthax was too wise to undertake – and ride away, as our fathers did from the Medes and Persians. Why are we fighting this war alone? Is it perhaps because-?' Graethe smiled like a fox, but he was interrupted by a voice from beyond the fire.

  'You are not alone,' the voice said. 'Urvara is three days' march away, with Eumenes of Olbia and five thousand men.'

  'Who are you?' Graethe asked, but the voice went on.

  'You are not alone, because the war fleet of Satyrus has sailed, and Nikephoros is about to be trapped on the beach.' Coenus emerged into the light, and he bowed to Melitta as soon as he entered the firelight. 'I rode as hard as I could, and none too fast, I see.'

  Men crowded around him, and he embraced Ataelus and then Temerix, and then Scopasis.

  'Your brother sent me. He should be right behind me. When I set off, he was only awaiting the arrival of Diodorus to sail with sixty ships.' He smiled. 'And Eumenes is north of the Bay of Salmon and marching hard. He's gathered the western clans and he has all the infantry of Olbia.'

  Melitta could tell that Coenus was unsure, or lying, but only because she'd known him all her life. And all the clan leaders were gathered around him, pressing close, as if his news brought them physical strength.

  Ataelus turned to her. 'Now they will fight,' he said. He watched for a while. 'But not for long.'

  Melitta shrugged.

  Much later, when all of them had shared wine, and many of the Sakje had shared smoke, and they had fallen into their blankets, Melitta pulled a fur over her shoulders, cold even in high summer, and caught Coenus's eye where he lingered by the fire. The two of them walked away from the fire and into the darkness. Scopasis made as if to follow, and she gave him a small sign and he went back to Samahe, where the two of them had been playing a game of polis on a blanket.

  'You were lying,' she said, as soon as they were alone.

  Coenus shrugged. 'Not lying, exactly.'

  'You are Greek. Greeks lie. Coenus, this is life and death for these people.' Melitta shook her head. 'Tell me the whole truth.'

  'Your brother is waiting for Diodorus, who is late. Very late. He has troubles with his captains, and trouble with Heraklea. It's not pretty. But when I left, Nihmu and Crax had just ridden in from Diodorus. He should have sailed the day after I rode out – two days at the most.' Coenus shrugged. 'That's not much of a lie.'

  'But you didn't see him sail,' Melitta said.

  'I saw Urvara at the fort, and she said Eumenes was three days away and marching. And that was this morning. And she has three thousand horses and almost as many Sindi and Maeotae in the fort. Damn it, girl! In ten days, we'll outnumber everything Eumeles and Nikephoros and Upazan can muster.' Coenus grabbed her shoulders.

  Melitta pushed him away. 'Don't you get it? I'm risking people – real people – and they're dying like houseflies at the end of summer. Why didn't Urvara send those riders to me?'

  'Urvara is containing Nikephoros. Without her raids, his men would be all over the river, instead of just sending a boat or two to harass the farmers. Even outnumbered two to one, Urvara is keeping him busy.' Coenus put his hands on his hips. 'Keep it together, girl. The tide is turning.'

  'I am not girl. I am the lady.' She shook her head. 'By all the gods, Coenus, I am staking my people on Eumenes of Olbia and on my brother's fleet. If they are late, we're dead. We don't have ten days. We have two days. In two days, we'll be pushed back right into the fort, and then Upazan and Nik
ephoros join hands, and exterminate us.'

  Coenus rubbed his beard. 'Well, lady – and I concede, you are lady, even to me – then we fight for two days with everything we have. And trust to the gods.'

  Melitta laughed. 'T hat's where I was, just a few hours ago. Now, all I see is the end. Perhaps Satyrus will come and destroy Eumeles after I am dead.' She laughed, and it was a harsh sound. 'Is this all there is, Coenus?'

  'I spurned command all my life, lady,' he said, 'because as far as I could see with my friend Kineas, that is all there is – one damned decision after another, and watching friends die, whether you made the right call or not. That's how it has always looked to me.'

  'I don't think I want to be queen of the Sakje,' Melitta said.

  'Too late now,' Coenus answered.

  Melitta left him then, her heart empty, unsure even of how much truth Coenus – her beloved uncle, the father of her first lover – was telling her. She walked away into the darkness, past the horse lines, watching the tail of the moon for a while. She wept a little.

  'Lady?' Scopasis asked. He came out of the dark with a blanket. 'You are troubled.'

  'Fuck off,' Melitta said savagely.

  Scopasis, the former outlaw, stood his ground. 'Take the blanket,' he said.

  'I don't need your help,' she said. Mostly to herself.

  He held the blanket out mutely.

  She found herself inside the blanket, her arms around his chest, weeping, and he held her for a long time as she felt his warmth and comfort.

  'When I was outlawed,' he said, 'my anger kept me warm for a while, and then I was cold and alone.'

  She couldn't see him, with her cheek pressed against the warm wool of his coat. She waited for him to say more, but he didn't, and they were silent.

  Finally he said, 'I told all the people who tried to help me to fuck themselves,' and laughed. Melitta wasn't sure that she'd ever heard Scopasis laugh.

  'This makes you want to help people?' she asked.

  'It makes me immune to people I love telling me to fuck off,' he said. In the morning, Melitta was relacing her armour while Samahe did her hair. Scopasis didn't seem to see her – he moved about, getting horses and preparing the bodyguard for another day of combat. They had thirty riders now, and Coenus joined them in full armour.