Scythian Trilogy Book 2: The Golden King

by Max Overton

  "There will be others," broke in Tirses. "Even now Parasades and Certes are raising loyal forces to help us."

  "Even so, the Massegetae contribution will be small. A Jartai should lead. I nominate our chief Lugartes." A murmur of agreement rose from a number of Jartai officers.

  "Lugartes is our chief," agreed Sopartos. "However, we face a strong army and one whose tactics the Jartai have not stood against successfully. We should have a leader who is conversant with the way their army works."

  Teraxes snorted. "And who did you have in mind? Let me guess, your friend Nikomayros?"

  "Actually, no," retorted Sopartos. "I believe the Massegetae would more readily follow Parasades, however, he is not here and we need a leader now."

  "Many Massegetae would follow the Lion," grated Tirses, amid a chorus of agreement.

  "We could send for Lynna and let the Goddess decide," put in Lucos.

  "No," replied Sopartos. "Warfare is men's business. We can decide this. I say we choose now: Lugartes or Nikomayros."

  Jaxes drew his dagger and raised it. "I vote for the Lion." He passed the dagger to Sopartos.

  "In the absence of Parasades, I too." Sopartos passed the dagger on.

  Teraxes shook his head. "The Greek has ability, but I choose Lugartes. What say you, Lucos?"

  Lucos opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and looked hesitantly round the room. He glanced at his chief's glowering face and flushed in embarrassment. "Lugartes," he squeaked.

  "Nikometros," growled Timon. "Who else?"

  "Nikometros," agreed Tirses.

  The dagger passed on around the junior officers and councilors. Jaxes and Teraxes counted as the men declared themselves. By the time the dagger returned to Jaxes, twenty-seven votes had been cast, fifteen for Nikometros and twelve for Lugartes.

  "It is done," said Jaxes in satisfaction. "Nikomayros is war-leader against the usurper Areipithes." He nodded deferentially at his scowling chief. "This decision in no way affects the leadership of the Jartai as a tribe. Nikomayros' word is supreme only in matters of war."

  Nikometros nodded and moved slowly around the table, aided by Timon, until he stood next to Lugartes. "Thank you," he said quietly. "My first decision is that my friend Lugartes is to be regarded as joint war-leader, responsible whenever I am not present." He turned and embraced a surprised Lugartes. "Now," he went on. "To business. We have a war to plan."

  "Perhaps you could first explain the meaning of this parchment," said Jaxes, indicating the scroll spread out on the main table, the edges pinned down by smooth river rocks. "Timon tells me it is our lands, but that does not make sense."

  "It is what we call in Greece a carta, or map," explained Nikometros. "The lines you see upon it represent things like roads and rivers, towns and hills. We use them to plan our campaigns."

  Teraxes laughed, spittle flying as he doubled over with mirth. "What? You have tiny horsemen riding on these roads and little tents and huts?" He lifted the edge of the map and peered underneath it. "Perhaps herds of tiny cattle are hiding under it?" Several of the Jartai nobles also laughed and even some of the young Massegetae smiled at the words.

  "No," smiled Nikometros. "Just as this line here," he traced a finger across the map, "Represents the River Oxus, so we can use little things like these breadcrumbs," he scattered a few on the parchment. "To take the place of riders."

  Teraxes still shook with merriment as he shook his head. "To what point, Nikomayros?" he gasped. "We all know where the river is, it is over there." He pointed unerringly to the west. "Why do we need lines on a piece of paper to tell us that?"

  "Perhaps our war-leader wishes us to play games," Lucos sneered.

  "What if you were in a strange land and did not know the landmarks? Or wished to communicate your position to others who did not know it?"

  Teraxes shrugged. "I would have to make sure I knew where I was."

  "My lords, allow me to make a small demonstration of the use of this map." Nikometros turned to Lugartes, who peered at the lines on the parchment without the least sign of comprehension. "My friend, pick a place where you think Areipithes might seek to fight us. Devise a means for us to attack him. Now whisper this plan in my ear."

  Lugartes frowned. "Why do I not just tell everybody my plan?"

  "I will tell Timon, who can read a map such as this, your plan without speaking a word."

  Lugartes raised his eyebrows. "Without speaking?" He snorted. "It cannot be done." He thought a moment then pulled the taller Nikometros down by the arm and rasped a few short sentences into his ear. "Go on then," he said loudly. "Use your map."

  Nikometros leaned over the table and studied the parchment for a few moments. He picked up a fragment of charcoal and wrote a tiny 'alpha' on the map. He then stabbed his finger down at another place and traced a curving path across the paper, coming to a halt near the charcoal letter. Looking up at Timon, Nikometros cocked his head inquiringly.

  Timon smiled. "Areipithes waits for us with his army at," he peered closely at the map. "Double Rock. We move west from here to the Oxus near Wolf Rock then south to the swampy ground then skirting the hills, move around to take him in the rear."

  All eyes turned to Lugartes. The chief nodded slowly, sucking his lower lip pensively as he stared at the path traced by Nikometros down to the tiny charcoal smear. He put his finger down on the paper. "This is Wolf Rock?" he asked.

  "Yes. Here is the Oxus River, here the swamp, hills along here and here, and Double Rock here." Nikometros looked round at the assembled men. "We can draw up complex battle plans on maps like this," he said. "Study them then turn them into actions where every man, every battle group knows his exact place, knows exactly what he must do, even if he cannot see his commanders. The Great King Alexander wins his battles by using maps to plan his campaigns. We can too."

  "We have fought wars since the gods first walked the plains," growled Lucos. "We still fight them, and without maps. I cannot see how they will help us fight better."

  "I have watched Scythian leaders in action," went on Nikometros. "As long as the battle can be seen, their generalship is unsurpassed. But if they lose sight of their men, or of the enemy, the action becomes confused."

  "Interesting," commented Sopartos. "But this map of yours still looks like a lot of lines to me."

  Timon grunted and tapped the table with his knuckle. "Every young officer in the Greek army thinks the same when he first sees one of the King's campaign maps. Give me a few days with men willing to learn and I will have them using maps. I even have a skilled scribe ready to make as many copies as we require."

  Lugartes looked doubtful. "We are Scythian warriors," he said. "Not bookish clerks from barbarian lands. This is something new." He shrugged. "Perhaps this is not something for Scythians."

  "Nor is fighting in disciplined horse columns," murmured Tirses. "It took the ideas of a man from Outland to introduce that to the Massegetae." He bared his teeth in a fierce smile. "Yet I seem to remember that innovation had a devastating effect on the Jartai army."

  Several young Jartai rounded on the speaker with expressions of anger. One forced his way toward Tirses, only to be restrained by Jaxes. Lugartes scowled but waved his young men back.

  "Yes, I remember," grated the Jartai chief. "Though some may consider it impolite to brag about it."

  Tirses inclined his head. "Then forgive my impetuous words, my lord. I wished merely to point out that innovation is not necessarily a thing to be avoided."

  Jaxes moved to the table and gestured down at the map. "I think this map may be useful," he said. "If Timon can teach us to use it by the time the campaign starts then we should make use of it."

  "Very well," agreed Lugartes. "But we have more urgent matters to discuss. Where is Areipithes now and what is he doing?" He looked around at a thin, colourless man hovering near the edge of his councilors. "Dilactos is my spy-master. He has just returned from the south with disturbing news."

  Dilactos mov
ed reluctantly to the table. He stood with his shoulders hunched and stared at his feet. When he spoke it was only as a low murmur, a breathy whisper, the ends of his sentences often dying away into inaudibility.

  "Areipithes is still in Urul. The usurper has united most of the Massegetae into a considerable...He has opened negotiations with the Dahai to the west for mutual...The combined army will probably number at least..."

  "Speak up!" growled a voice from the rear.

  "Yes," cried another. "How many did you say?"

  "Five thousand. He said five thousand," called a voice nearer the front.

  A babble of noise erupted, as men turned on one another in loud argument. Lugartes called for quiet unsuccessfully. Jaxes finally managed to restore order with a series of stentorian bellows.

  As the disruption died away, Tirses interjected. "I dispute these facts," he said quietly. "I have my own sources, especially one who was a lot closer to the enemy than your man."

  "Who is he, Tirses?" asked Nikometros.

  "This man, here," replied Tirses. He urged a slim bearded Scythian to the fore, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Scolices once worked for Areipithes as a personal servant. He has recently defected to our ranks. The story he paints is very different."

  Nikometros frowned. "Scolices? The name sounds familiar." After a moment he shook his head. "Go on, man. Tell us what you know."

  Scolices smiled, and walked slowly up to the table. "Areipithes is indeed in Urul," he agreed, "But that is as accurate as this man gets." He jerked a thumb at Dilactos. "The father-killer has talked to Tellos, chief of the Dahai, but was refused aid. Men are deserting his army daily and he fights incursions of the Serratae continually. At the moment he could put maybe three thousand men in the field but in a month's time when the weather breaks, perhaps half of that."

  Jaxes pursed his lips. "Fifteen hundred men? Still a sizeable army but manageable." He looked across at Tirses. "How accurate is this information?"

  Tirses shrugged. "It agrees loosely with some reports, is at variance with others. However, Scolices is the only source from close to the usurper."

  "And how trustworthy is he, I wonder?" growled Timon. "He betrays his one-time master yet seeks our trust."

  Scolices shrugged and smiled diffidently. "My oath was to my chief, Spargises," he stated. "Not his son. When Areipithes killed his own father I could not in conscience remain with him."

  "Yet you waited until now to leave him?" asked Nikometros.

  "There was much confusion," replied Scolices. "Areipithes killed men who questioned his right to lead. I deemed it better to keep out of sight but keep my ears open and wait for an opportunity to escape."

  Jaxes grunted. "Seems reasonable. So, Scolices, what does the usurper plan to do?"

  "I cannot be sure," Scolices said, spreading his hands out. "I was not on his council. I heard, though, that he intends to march north to crush the Jartai around the spring equinox."

  "That late?" queried Sopartos. "The weather is good enough for fighting weeks before that. Why should he wait if his army is disintegrating?"

  "He has sent word north to the Dumae," said Scolices softly. "He has an offer of support from them but he must wait until after the feast of the New Herds at the equinox."

  "Nemathres? Support Areipithes? I don't believe it!" Nikometros slammed his fist down on the table, his eyes blazing.

  "I have heard nothing of this," complained Dilactos. "If this were so, my men would have heard something."

  "Out of his own mouth," murmured Tirses. "If his information is so bad, why should we listen to the rest of his talk?"

  "You're sure of your facts?" Nikometros leaned over the table, staring at the slim Massegetae defector.

  "I cannot say, I wasn't there when the promise was made, my lord," smiled Scolices. "I only know that Areipithes makes his plans as if it were fact."

  "This is serious news." Lugartes muttered. "Fifteen hundred Massegetae are one thing. With luck we could win there, but to have the Dumae attack us from the rear? How many are they, Sopartos, do we know?"

  "A thousand, twelve hundred if they leave their lands defenceless."

  "And how many can we put in the field?" queried Lucos timidly.

  "If we take every man who can bear arms, strip the village of the merchants and farmers, use every youth and boy who can use a bow...eight, nine hundred." Sopartos spoke quietly but his voice carried in the silence.

  "Do not forget the loyal Massegetae," put in Tirses. "We number two hundred already and more join every day."

  "And Parasades," chipped in another warrior. "He's recruiting even as we speak. No doubt he'll find hundreds more."

  Lugartes looked gloomy. "So, our total army may nearly equal the usurpers in size, if his continues to decrease and if the Dumae don't join him?"

  "The outlook is not good," agreed Sopartos.

  "Perhaps we should ask what terms Areipithes will give us," muttered one of the junior councilors.

  "Yes," said another, more loudly. "If his terms are honourable..."

  "Silence!" roared Jaxes. "There will be no talk of surrender. We know already what the usurper wants of us and we have rejected it."

  "But what are we to do?" whined Lucos. "We cannot fight Areipithes and Nemathres together. We would be slaughtered."

  "So fight them separately," interposed Nikometros softly. "This man here, Scolices, says that they cannot meet up before the equinox. I'm not sure I believe him." He held up a hand as Tirses opened his mouth, and turned toward the slim defector. "If I wrong you, Scolices, I will beg your pardon, but I cannot accept the unsupported word of one man. I do not believe Nemathres would betray me." Nikometros paused, letting the silence grow around him. "I will send word to Nemathres myself. In the meantime, let us march an army south immediately and face Areipithes alone."

  "Nikomayros is right," nodded Sopartos. "Face a single foe. Once Areipithes is defeated there is no reason for Nemathres to take the field."

  Lugartes smiled then a look of concern came over his face. "But Areipithes' army is larger now, maybe as large as both armies combined after the equinox."

  "My lords," interrupted Scolices with a grin. "The usurper is relying on the Dumae to bolster his flagging support. If the Jartai show up with the Lion as their leader, most of his army will desert at once." He chuckled. "You may not even have to fight a battle."

  Lugartes smiled again. "Now that sounds like a plan. What think you, my lords?"

  The Jartai councilors looked thoughtful and nodded, as did most of the Massegetae warriors. Jaxes spoke briefly with Sopartos and Teraxes in a quiet voice then turned to his chief.

  "I agree with the intent, my lord, but I must stress this is far from a plan. We must move carefully and swiftly if we are to succeed."

  "Then draw up one." Lugartes waved his hands dismissively. "We have elected a war-leader, let him plan a strategy with his officers. Play with your maps, decide on your route, do whatever you must." He gathered his cloak around him and strode to the entrance to the hut, most of the Jartai councilors following him. He turned in the entrance and looked back. "Just remember that I am chief of the Jartai. Any move you make that affects the tribe, any supplies you desire, horses, cattle, whatever, must be cleared by me."

  Nikometros watched Lugartes leave. "He has changed," he sighed. He turned back to the others. "Timon, make sure Ket has supplies of parchment for the maps. Jaxes, Sopartos, Teraxes. You will speak for the Jartai on the war council?"

  Sopartos nodded. "For now, my lord. Others may be required later." He looked at the Massegetae warriors. "And who speaks for the Massegetae?"

  "Timon of course, and Tirses. He leads the Lions now." Nikometros smiled. "When Parasades returns, he too."

  "Then we had best get started, my lord. Time is running out."

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tomyra lay on soft cushions looking out at the rain. Winter had g
iven way to the first signs of an early spring; the moisture-laden westerly winds sending sheets of cold rain sluicing over the Scythian plains. The rivers bordering the Jartai village grew to surging brown torrents, the topsoil washing down in leaping torrents from a land denuded of grass and churned up by the herds. A cool gust lifted the flaps of the heavy hide tent, sending a spray of water over the fine rugs. Sarmatia and another young maiden of the priestess, Dolra, hurried to secure the tent entrance, cursing as their feet splashed into an icy puddle on the floor.

  Tomyra shifted and winced as a stab of pain arced through her pelvis. Bithyia noted the fleeting pain and leaned closer, holding a horn cup.

  "Drink, my lady," Bithyia murmured. "It will ease the pain."

  Tomyra waved the cup aside and struggled to sit up. "I am not an invalid," she snapped. Instantly contrite, she put a hand out and touched the young woman gently on the arm. "I am sorry, Bithyia. I never expected to feel like this." She forced a small laugh. "It is a wonder any woman bears children."

  "You must not make light of it, my lady," said Prithia. She straightened the cushions behind Tomyra and drew up a soft goatskin around her mistress' legs. "Most girls feel sickness in the morning, it's true, but that passes. What worries me are the pains you continue to have. I fear that...that beast did you some damage inside."

  "It is in the Goddess' hands," said Tomyra. "If it is my lot to bear the child, I shall. If She chooses to take it from me, I shall not be sorry to see it go."

  "My lady!" Sarmatia gaped at the young priestess. "How can you say that? It's your child."

  "But not my lord's," rejoined Tomyra, her face carefully neutral. "My pregnancy does not yet show and you will see to it that my lord Nikomayros does not find out."

  Prithia screwed up her face in anguish. "He must find out eventually, lady."

  "If I do not lose it I shall tell him before it shows. Now fetch me some koumiss, Prithia, and stop fussing. You too, Sarmatia. Dolra, fetch me another cushion please."

  Prithia and Sarmatia sniffed and drew their cloaks over their heads before lifting the tent flap and ducking out into the rain. Bithyia looked askance at her mistress as she shifted uncomfortably, settling onto the cushion proffered by Dolra.