by Max Overton
"You are welcome, Nikomayros," Parasades said clearly. "And you too, Tomyra."
Nikometros inclined his head and Tomyra smiled, remaining silent.
"I summoned you to make my decisions known to you. They affect the tribe so I deemed it proper to inform you before all." Parasades waved his hand toward two padded stools. "Please, be seated." He beckoned a servant forward with cups of fresh koumiss and waited until they drank. Rising from his seat he addressed the pair in formal tones, pitching his voice for all to hear.
"We owe a debt of gratitude to you, Nikomayros, styled Lion of Scythia." A smattering of applause and cheering broke out. Parasades waited for it to die away before continuing. "Nevertheless, you came to us in a time of trouble and that trouble has now passed away. It would be selfish to ask you to remain in the lands of the Massegetae any longer."
Muttering rippled through the crowd. A voice near the back called out, "Ask him!" evoking cheers and laughter.
"Instead, I would ask you to perform one last service for the People. Will you do it, Nikomayros?"
Nikometros inclined his head again. "If I can, my lord Parasades."
"I do not seek to extend the boundaries of the Massegetae beyond the newly vacated lands of the Jartai. The tribe will still make its annual journey to the Mother Sea but if the gods are willing we shall live in peace with those around us." Nods and cheers of agreement met this statement.
"However," Parasades went on, "There are peoples around us who do not live peacefully, who may threaten our security. To the east lie many small tribes, none of whom pose any credible threat as yet. To the west lie the Serratae..." Jeers of derision erupted from the listeners. "...The Serratae, who no longer are a problem. But to the south lies the realm of Alexander of Macedon, the conqueror from the west who continues to look farther afield for new lands to invade. I do not want him to cast greedy eyes upon the wealth of Scythia."
Parasades paused and looked at Nikometros. "Nikomayros, will you go to the court of Alexander, as envoy from the Massegetae, with an offer of friendship between our peoples?"
Nikometros started, his mouth open. He shut it firmly and rose to his feet. Facing Parasades, he smiled briefly and nodded. "I am honoured to be chosen for this task, my lord...but..." He hesitated then stopped, looking flustered.
"Go on, Nikomayros," said Parasades, frowning. "Why do you object to this task?"
"I don't object, my lord. It's just that I'm Macedonian, not Massegetae. Such an offer of friendship should come from one of the People."
"There is truth in what you say, Nikomayros. Yet you know the mind of Alexander and the ways of the Greeks. This is why I chose you."
"Then let me accompany your envoy as advisor. I will be able to help him through the intricacies of protocol and advise him as to how he should gauge the offers made to him. He will need an interpreter too," Nikometros added.
Parasades stared hard at Nikometros before nodding. "Very well. Your argument makes sense, Nikomayros." He turned back to the audience of tribesmen listening outside the tent. "Men and women of the Massegetae," he said, "You have witnessed the decision to send the lord Nikomayros to speak with Alexander on our behalf. We trust Nikomayros with our very lives but aspects of this mission must now be discussed in private. I ask that you withdraw from here so that I might deliberate with my advisors. Eat well, all of you, for there is much meat. Drink, for koumiss has been prepared. Rejoice, for our sorrows are past."
Cheers and shouting erupted from the crowd as they jostled and streamed away, chattering and laughing. Parasades turned back to the small group within the tent. He beckoned to the waiting servants. "Bring meat and drink." Turning to one of his advisors he muttered softly to the man before sending him running off into the night. Parasades crossed to a trestle table and picked up a chunk of roasted meat, carrying it back to his chair. He proceeded to gnaw at the tough meat, ignoring the others.
Nikometros sat down again and pondered his mission. After a few minutes, Tomyra broke in on his thoughts.
"Whom will you take to the south?" she asked quietly.
Nikometros shook his head. "I don't know. It'll be up to Parasades, but Timon will go with me of course."
"What of Bithyia?" asked Tomyra. "He won't want to leave her."
"No, but he's a soldier. He knows his duty."
"And you, my lord? Do you know your duty?"
"Of course I..." Nikometros flushed and looked away.
"Will you come back to Scythia, my lord?"
"Tomyra, you know I..." Nikometros stuttered to a halt. Drawing a deep breath he faced the young woman. "Tomyra, my place is with my king. You know that. I'll help the Massegetae as much as I can, for I recognise my debt, but I must remain in the south."
Tomyra lowered her eyes and folded her hands in her lap, withdrawing into herself. "I shall rejoice for you, my lord," she whispered. "But Scythia will seem very empty."
Nikometros frowned. "I cannot stay, Tomyra. Even your goddess foretold that I would follow the Golden King, whoever he may be. Remember, Ket thinks he is Alexander."
"Then you must go, Nikomayros."
Nikometros sat silently, not sure what to say. He watched, aghast, as a tear slowly trickled down Tomyra's cheek. "Tomyra," he started awkwardly. "Why do you...?" He reached out and gripped Tomyra's hand. "Tomyra, there's nothing to hold you here, is there? I mean, do you...er...will you come with me?"
Tomyra looked up, eyes glistening. "Do you want me to?" she asked in a small voice.
"Of course I do."
"Why?"
"Why?" repeated Nikometros. "Because I...because you..." He looked away, into the night where the cooking fires blazed. He flushed red then steeling himself, turned back to Tomyra and took her hands in his again. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment.
"Because, Tomyra, when I first saw you, in the dust of battle, there before me on the ground, I knew our souls were joined. Before ever I knew your goddess had a purpose for us, I dared hope. When we're together, my heart sings and I feel I can do anything. When we're apart, I count the hours to your return. You're a part of me. I would sooner give up a limb than give you up. I cannot live without you, Tomyra, daughter of Spargises. You mean everything to me. I love you."
Tomyra burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Through her sniffles and sobs she asked, "Why did you not say, my lord? Didn't you know that I feel this way too? Why else would I risk my life to give myself to you if I didn't love you?"
Nikometros grimaced, stroking Tomyra's long black hair. "I'm sorry, Tomyra. I couldn't be certain. I thought...I don't know what I thought."
Tomyra pulled away and wiped her eyes on the hem of her cloak. "There is something I must tell you, Nikomayros. Though I fear when I tell..."
The tramp of approaching feet and cries of greeting interrupted her. Into the tent marched a small group of clean-shaven Scythians, Tirses in the lead. Behind him walked Timon, arm in arm with Bithyia and a handful of other Owls.
"Ho, Nikometros," cried Timon. "What is happening? We were rousted out of a most enjoyable drinking party with no word of explanation. What's going on?"
"We ride south!" grinned Nikometros. "We're going home, Timon."
"Home?" yelled Timon. He let out an exultant whoop and punched the air. "By all the gods, how? And when?"
Bithyia stared at her man then at Nikometros and Tomyra. She saw the fresh tears in her mistress' eyes and frowned. "What is it, my lady?"
Tomyra smiled. "My lord Nikomayros and I travel to his country and his people in the south, Bithyia. Will you come too?"
Bithyia looked to where Timon and Nikometros talked together animatedly. "If my Timon wishes it, yes."
A cough sounded behind them and all four turned to see Parasades rise from his chief's chair. He looked gravely at them then glanced at Tirses and the young shaven men.
"I have gathered you here," Parasades said abruptly, addressing the young Scythian officer, "To tell you of your mission. I have deci
ded that you, Tirses, will carry an offer of friendship from the Massegetae to Alexander of Macedon at Ekbatana in Persia. He resides there, having returned from his conquests in the east. These young men, 'Lions' I believe they style themselves, will accompany you as your honour guard." He turned back to Nikometros. "The lord Nikomayros will act as interpreter and advisor. Pay heed to him, Tirses. Nikomayros will be accompanied by his man, Timon." Parasades nodded toward the women. "Tomyra, as a holy priestess, will go as a token of our good intentions, and to make sacrifice as necessary, for the success of the mission. Such of her maidens as wish to accompany her as guards, may do so."
Timon's grin faded as he listened. "Getting rid of us, more like," he muttered. "Every single one of us knows of his actions of late and his weaknesses."
Parasades glared at Timon. "Yes, Timon," he said coldly. "But not from any desire on my part to get you out of my lands. However, there are those, in my late predecessors' employ I believe, who wish you harm. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you." Timon snorted softly and opened his mouth to retort. Nikometros put out a hand to restrain him.
"We shall, of course, be honoured to represent the Massegetae in this important mission," said Nikometros. "We'll start preparing immediately. I'm sure we can be ready to start out within a month."
Parasades smiled thinly. "All is prepared. You leave at dawn tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" exclaimed Timon. "How can we possibly be ready?"
Parasades narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. "A word with you, Nikomayros. In private." He turned and stalked away from the group. In the shadows at the back of the tent he turned and hissed at Nikometros. "Explain to your man that he is not to question my decisions. Let him remember his place."
"He's right though, isn't he, Parasades? You're hurrying us out of here with unseemly haste. Even I ask myself, why?"
"You have to ask? My tribe is still divided, now when healing is most needed. The young men follow you. Look at those 'Lions'." Parasades gestured at the young shaven warriors, standing around awkwardly, listening to the animated discussions between Timon and the women. "Aping Greek customs instead of honouring the traditions of their fathers. No, if you remain, there will be trouble." Parasades sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to have to kill you, Nikomayros, so I'm sending you away. Take your young men and such women as will follow you and make a life for yourselves far from my lands."
"So this task, this diplomatic mission, is but a fiction?"
"Not entirely. I do desire peace with Alexander. Present him with gifts--I'll send gold with you--and make a treaty if you can."
"You would trust me with this?"
Parasades raised an eyebrow. "You're an honourable man, my lord Nikomayros. If you undertake to do it, you will, to the best of your ability."
Nikometros held the other man's gaze for a long time before he nodded. "I will do as you wish, my lord Parasades. You haven't been an easy man to understand, but I don't doubt you have the good of the Massegetae at heart. I will do what I can for you at Alexander's court."
"Good enough! Now let us rejoin the others," smiled Parasades. "A drink in celebration then I'll let you go. You have much to do before dawn."
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Chapter Thirty-Seven
Twenty riders sat looking south over mountains, folded and twisted, falling slowly to distant plains, lost in a haze of dust and smoke. The borders of Scythia, long disputed by those who lived on them, were generally accepted to lie where the plains of the horsemen abutted on the mountainous regions of the hill tribes of northern Persia. Here, on the crest of the first range, peering down the great cleft in the rock walls that was styled the Persian Gates, the entrance to the rich lands of the south, the terrain was already strange.
The Scythians in the little group looked around at the up-thrust rock and shivered then turned to the figure on the great stallion for comfort. Nikometros stared down into Persia, remembering when he first rode north through this mountain pass, young and inexperienced. Now less than two years later, he rode back, a leader and a general, a newfound confidence swelling his chest and the woman he loved beside him.
Nikometros looked around at the other riders and smiled encouragingly. "Persia!" he exclaimed with a sweeping gesture. "Our future."
A richly dressed Scythian, clad in expensive clothes and adorned with gold and enameled ornaments, smiled at him. "I will leave you now, Nikomayros. I do not look to see you again."
"Had to be sure we left, eh Parasades?" grinned Nikometros. "Do not fear. We won't return. Go back to your tribe and rule them wisely."
Parasades nodded. "Time to take them back to the old ways, I think. And heal the wounds. Your life cord is a strong one, Nikomayros. You hurt those close to you."
A shadow passed over Nikometros' eyes. "We are all in the hands of the gods." He nudged his stallion and it started forward down the rocky trail into Persia. Behind him, Timon nodded silently at the Massegetae chief as he passed, following his commander. Tomyra and Bithyia clattered past, Agarus leading two heavily laden packhorses in their wake, and Ket, astride an old placid mare. A wicker basket slung over the mare's withers uttered disgusted yowls at each step. Tirses rode at the head of a dozen young horsemen, grinning and chattering as they left the land of their ancestors without a backward glance.
Parasades watched them go, disappearing already into the cloud of dust kicked up by the horses. "May the gods be with you, Lion of Scythia," he murmured, "In your quest for your Golden King." He wheeled his horse and galloped back down the slope toward his waiting entourage and the open plains of Scythia.
Behind him, on the crest of the mountain ridge, the dust settled as the sun rose high into the crisp new spring day. Silence returned to the mountain pass. In the distance, riding on the still air, came the cawing of a pair of crows, following the riders south on their long journey to a new destiny.
The story of Nikometros and Tomyra will be concluded in 'Funeral in Babylon'
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About The Author
Max Overton has travelled extensively and lived in many places around the world--including Malaysia, India, Germany, England, Jamaica, New Zealand, USA and Australia. Trained in the biological sciences in New Zealand and Australia, he has worked within the scientific field for many years, but now concentrates on writing. While predominantly a writer of historical fiction (Scarab: Books 1-6 of the Amarnan Kings; the Scythian Trilogy; the Demon Series; Ascension), he also writes in other genres (A Cry of Shadows, the Glass Trilogy, Haunted Trail, Sequestered) and draws on true life (Adventures of a Small Game Hunter in Jamaica, We Came From Königsberg). Max also maintains an interest in butterflies, photography, the paranormal and other aspects of Fortean Studies.
Most of his other published books are available at Writers Exchange Ebooks, http://www.writers-exchange.com/Max-Overton.html and all his books may be viewed on his website:
http://www.maxovertonauthor.com
Max's book covers are all designed and created by Julie Napier, and other examples of her art and photography may be viewed at www.julienapier.com
If you enjoyed this author's book, then please place a review up at Amazon and any social media sites you frequent!
If you want to read more about books by this author, they are listed on the following pages...
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Other Books By This Author
A Cry of Shadows
{Paranormal Murder Mystery}
Australian Professor Ian Delaney is single-minded in his determination to prove his theory that one can discover the moment that the life force leaves the body. After succumbing to the temptation to kill a girl under scientifically controlled conditions, he takes an offer of work in St Louis, hoping to leave the undiscovered crime behind him.
In America, Wayne Richardson seeks revenge by killing his ex-girlfriend, believing it
will give him the upper hand, a means to seize control following their breakup. Wayne quickly discovers that he enjoys killing and begins to seek out young women who resemble his dead ex-girlfriend.
Ian and Wayne meet, and when Ian recognizes the symptoms of violent delusion he employs Wayne to help him further his research. Despite the police closing in, the two killers manage to evade identification as the death toll rises.
John Barnes, the detective in charge of the case, is frantic, willing to try anything to catch his killer. With time running out, he looks desperately for answers. Will John get them before it's too late?
Publisher ebook page: http://www.writers-exchange.com/A-Cry-of-Shadows.html
Amazon (ebook and print): http://mybook.to/ACryOfShadows
AmazonSmile (US Region): https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B00E96DIDM
* * *
Adventures of a Small Game Hunter in Jamaica
{Biography}
An eleven-year-old boy is plucked from boarding school in England and transported to the tropical paradise of Jamaica. A shy and dreamy boy, he has one great love in his life--butterflies. He discovers that Jamaica has a wealth of these wonderful insects and sets about making a collection of as many as he can find. Along the way, he has adventures with many other creatures, from hummingbirds to vultures, from iguanas to black widow spiders, and through it all runs the promise of the legendary Homerus swallowtail, Jamaica's national butterfly.
Other activities intrude, like school, boxing and swimming lessons, but he manages to inveigle his parents into taking him to strange and sometimes dangerous places, all in the name of butterfly collecting. He meets scientists and Rastafarians, teachers, small boys and the ordinary people of this tropical isle, and even discovers butterflies that should not exist in Jamaica.
