by Jo Graham
I held my horse to a walk as the two Iles formed up, the first with Glaukos on the point, myself in the rear between the Companion Cavalry and the fifty horse archers. I would follow the charge, not lead it. I swept the sword point forward, my voice carrying over the din. “Ptolemy and Egypt!”
And let it go.
We came in like a loosed arrow, straight into their flank.
On the other side of the ford, our fort still held, but that was about all one could say for it. The wooden palisades Artashir had repaired were torn and gaping, huge gaps between trampled sections. Perdiccas had let the elephants at them, and the results were unmistakable.
Half of his men were across the river, scaling ladders raised to the walls, a full phalanx of infantry about the base of the ladders, shields raised above their heads to ward off the Egyptian archers on the wall above. The other half of his men were either midstream or still on our bank, horse archers held in reserve and some others. Twenty men or so were struggling with a massive elephant, its eyes streaming blood and gore. Our defenders on the wall had blinded the lead elephant, and in its pain it rampaged through their lines while its handlers tried to calm it. Another elephant stood some distance away on the opposite shore, its flanks heaving. The platform on its back was smashed to splinters and its driver dangled head down, dead, from its neck, still held on by the straps of his harness.
As the first Ile of our cavalry plunged like a knife into the flank of the men on our side of the river, I saw something I could not have seen had I been in the front of the charge. To our right Perdiccas’ camp lay open.
Artashir and the horse archers were still behind me. They were not meant for the shock of a charge against heavy infantry.
“Artashir!” I shouted. “The camp!”
He could see where I pointed—the elaborate tents with their gilded posts that must surely belong to Perdiccas. To Perdiccas, or to the boy king and his mother.
Artashir met my eyes, and there was no need for further words. “I'll get the child,” he said, and with a shout his men formed up around him, riding hard for the camp and Alexander's son.
I followed the charge instead. We were pressing deep into the side of Perdiccas’ reserve phalanx, and had come down on them so fast that they hadn't had time to change facing. A sarissa is twice a man's height in length, and as the phalanx advances the ranks are staggered, so that each sarissa goes between the men of the rank ahead of it. In order to turn the entire formation, each man must be able to lift his sarissa free and rotate ninety degrees, maintaining proper distance and dress between ranks, and then lower his sarissa again between the men now before him. This is a maneuver practiced over and over on the drill field, because it is difficult to do without someone fouling up and blocking others. It is doubly difficult to do on the battlefield, especially with cavalry crowding into the front ranks, swords in hand.
They had not managed to do it, and as always happens in these situations, some men had dropped their sarissas and drawn sword as our horsemen got in too close. Which meant those sarissas now fouled other men, lying across theirs at wrong angles and preventing them from turning to the new facing, or just released without being put properly down. This was the right chaos. This was good chaos. And it benefited us.
I raised my sword again. “Ptolemy and Egypt! Press it home!” We were giving a lot better than we were taking, but a seasoned phalanx wouldn't break easily.
My horse screamed and shied, and I fought to stay with her, the reins still wound around my left hand. I hadn't the strength in the hand. I couldn't hold her as she fought. Their horse archers had engaged, and an arrow had burned along her side, lodging nearly spent in the fleshy part of her rump. It was far from a mortal wound, but she struggled and panicked.
I got the rein loose and slid down her off side, trying to get clear of her before she threw me entirely, my feet skidding in the dust. I made a better target for their horse archers than our men, who were now hopelessly tangled up with their phalanx.
I saw his shadow move along the ground rather than saw him, and without even thinking turned, my sword in guard. The infantryman who had come at me was one of the Silver Shields, his beard threaded with gray. I saw his eyes flicker to my left hand as our blades connected. He saw I had a bad hand. Would that translate to a bad side?
He feinted to my left, testing me, but I had seen his eyes and blocked to the right instead, catching the return strongly. And then it was cut and thrust, guard and block, the deadly dance. I was younger than he, but I had been up all night. Thrust and block, neither with the advantage, sweat running down my brow.
I do not know how it would have ended if not for the horns and shouting. Perdiccas was ordering the recall. Still horsed and able to see somewhat above the fray, he must have seen Artashir sprinting for the camp. Now he shouted the recall, that all the infantry on this side of the river must rally immediately to prevent losing the prize.
My opponent hesitated for half a second, then turned and charged off toward the camp. I did not pursue. My chest heaved with my breath. Too many months on leave, I thought, if one combat should wear me out!
I looked about for my horse, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. Dismounted I couldn't tell what was going on, nor could I give orders. One of my troopers was some little distance away, but I could not make him hear me in the din. I had always thought that squires and bodyservants were an affectation in battle, but now I could see the use of them. A general who can't see what's going on is useless.
There was a thunder of hooves, and a dozen horse archers thundered down on me. It took a moment to distinguish that these were ours, not theirs, since all were clad alike.
“I need a horse!” I shouted in Persian, and one of them pulled up and extended a hand to me.
I came up behind him. “Many thanks!” I shouted in his ear. “Where is Artashir?”
“Right behind,” he yelled back. “We did not get through to the tent because the heavy infantry got back before we were done with the guards. Artashir said to disengage.”
I looked about, but in the dust and chaos I could see nothing, certainly not Artashir.
“Make for the river,” I shouted. “We need to get back across to the fort.” If we got stuck on the wrong side of the river with their superior numbers of both cavalry and horse archers, we'd get crushed.
By now, the flow of troops was in reverse, Perdiccas’ men breaking off the attack and returning to their camp, and our men going the other way. Fortunately, at this point the ford was quite shallow, hardly up to the horses’ bellies. We floundered across at the southernmost end.
By the time we were on the opposite shore a few of my own men had joined us, and I traded for the horse of a trooper who had been wounded. He was a youngish stallion and he had been spooked quite a bit, so it took my good hand to hold him in and get him to bear a new rider. Really, I thought, as I walked him in a circle where we were forming up, he was too green for this, but we had run through the remounts quickly. We were going to need more horses, good Nisean blooded horses that had the size for a man in steel. The little horses the archers used were not large enough. I doubted there was a Nisean broodmare in all Egypt. Another problem for another day.
“Form up!” I yelled. Our men were still crossing over, and even though ours and theirs were passing in midstream everyone looked too exhausted to trade blows.
They formed up in a ragged line halfway up the bank, three ranks of them, some of them nursing wounds but still horsed. Six of Artashir's men. Seventy-seven of my own.
Not good at all, I thought grimly, scanning the battlefield. Not good at all.
The sun was behind the fort, and I heard at last the gate opening when none of Perdiccas’ men remained on this side of the river.
“Wounded to the rear!” I ordered. “Everyone else, stay mounted and guard the ford.” The last thing we needed was a late sortie when we had the gates open. We paced down the bank a little way, u
ntil the first rank stood with their ankles in the water, a barrier across the ford.
Behind us were the terrible sounds of the wounded. The cries for help were not so bad. Men who have both wits and strength to cry for help may live to see another day. It was the groans and the rasping breaths, the choking cries like children that were dreadful. I did not have to look. I stood with my men, our backs to them, guarding the ford while our servants and doctors came down.
A few more of our men straggled across in ones and twos, all cavalry and horse archers, though some were now dismounted. A big Nisean stallion, ten years old or more from the look of him, came trotting up with no rider, his saddle blanket drenched with blood though he looked fresh as rain. He came to me and I caught his bridle in my bad hand and he came and stood beside me without pulling or fussing. I thought that he looked relieved to be doing something that made sense, standing around with a bunch of other horses. If it hadn't been for the blood I would have changed horses then and there.
Fourteen horse archers. A hundred and forty-five of my men. The stragglers were coming in. That meant we were missing thirty-six archers and five hundred and five cavalrymen, the bulk of our force.
Surely we hadn't lost so many? I wouldn't have thought so. Sixty, seventy, even a hundred I would accept, but we could not have lost so many. What had happened when I could not see?
At last, when full night fell, I gave the order to dismount and walk the horses back to the fort.
Ptolemy was waiting for me in the courtyard, talking with one of the infantry officers, while the servants were laying out the wounded in the courtyard, the lightly wounded to the right, the dying to the left. The men in the middle were taken straight into the shed they were using for a surgery.
Ptolemy's breastplate was streaked with gore, and blood had dried stiff in his hair where he had run his hands through it with his reddened hands. “What have you got?”
“Fourteen archers and a hundred and forty-five cavalry,” I said wearily. “And I've lost Artashir and Glaukos. You?”
Ptolemy looked grave. “Not as bad as that. Eighty-one killed or wounded on the parapets. I'd guess four or five times that number for them. But we were about to get overwhelmed by the elephants when you showed up. That was a good plan. We needed them to break off exactly then.”
“I don't know how we lost so many,” I said, and I could hear my voice choking. “Ptolemy, I don't. I don't know what happened. I was unhorsed and I couldn't see, but I don't think it should be that bad.” To have lost almost my entire command…
He put his hand on my shoulder, dark circles of dried blood under his nails. “It's probably not. From the walls of the fort I could see the gambit going for the tent, and when they had to break off from that because Perdiccas turned, a bunch of men were on the wrong side. They couldn't get back to the river because Perdiccas’ horse archers were between them. I saw a bunch reel away into the trees to the east, those palm groves along the canal over there. Some of them were in breastplates, so it wasn't all Artashir's men.”
I took a breath. I must think. I must not despair. “If there weren't enough to break through, they did the right thing,” I said. “And there may have been some others who disengaged at the end but couldn't get back across the ford.”
“We've more tomorrow,” Ptolemy said grimly. He squeezed my shoulder. “You tell your men to stand down and get something to eat. I know they've not slept last night, so they're excused from the watch tonight. And you get some rest too. The infantry is in better shape, and we'll shore up the defenses.”
“Don't you need me awake?” I said. “I can—”
“Go to bed,” Ptolemy said. “I'll need you more tomorrow, and you've already been up a full night. I'll see you in the morning.”
I LAY DOWN on a rough straw-filled mattress in one of the upper rooms of the fortress, certain that I would not sleep while the bustle of the work and the moans of the wounded below continued. Of course I did. I was asleep almost before I stretched out, and did not open my eyes until one of the squires shook me.
“Sir? General Ptolemy sent me to get you. They're gone again.”
I hurried up to the walls, once again to be met with the sight of a deserted camp.
Ptolemy looked bemused. “We had the same master, Perdiccas and I. He knows better than to waste his men trying to take Camel's Fort when the real prize is Memphis. All he needs is a place to cross the river. It doesn't need to be this place.”
I blew out a breath. “Head for Bubastis?”
Ptolemy shook his head. “No. We can keep doing this, pushing back at every river ford, but that's not going to win anything. We've tested each other now. We know where he's going. And Memphis has the strongest fortifications in the Delta. Let's do this on our terms, not just react to Perdiccas.”
I nodded slowly. The walls of Memphis were as impenetrable as any I had ever seen, except perhaps Babylon. It would take Perdiccas five or six days at least to get there, maybe more. And we had seven days to run of the nine the goddess had promised. I looked at him sideways. I had not dared to mention it before, but now there was so little time left. “Sir? I was wondering… when we were lost in the desert when Cleomenes tried to kill you…”
Ptolemy bowed his head, still looking out over the walls. “If you're asking if you dreamed it, no. No, Lydias, you didn't.”
I didn't think I had, as Thais had told me that Ptolemy remembered it too, but I didn't say that. “What are you going to do?”
Ptolemy turned about, leaning back against the parapet. “What would you do, if you were me?”
“I would take the gods’ bargain,” I said quietly. “But then you already know that.”
“And what about that child there?” He gestured with his chin toward the way Perdiccas had gone.
“Make him your heir,” I said. “He is too young to rule now, and you have no legitimate son that you would name. You've already made it clear that you can't name Lagos or Leontiscus. So name Alexander the son of Alexander your heir. Or rule in his name as satrap as long as you can. But this land needs a pharaoh, and the King needs release. Take what is offered to you and make your nephew your heir.”
Ptolemy looked at me sharply.
“I have seen Chloe,” I said. “Do you think I can't add it up?”
He let out a sigh. “You and plenty of other men.” He paced a few steps along the wall. “I do not want my children to grow up the way I did, knowing that every gift, every bite of food might conceal a deadly purpose. Olympias could have had me killed if she had ever deemed me a threat. Sometimes I thought she did, and the only thing I could do was to be less and less interesting to her. Fortunately, when Phillip remarried it gave her other heirs to think about, legitimate sons of Phillip's new queen, rather than the colorless young man who was nothing but the son of Arsinoe, a girl Phillip had loved when they were boy and girl together. I do not want my children to grow up fearing their family.” He turned at the end of the walk and came back. “And Chloe is too easy to proclaim Alexander's daughter, too easy for some unscrupulous man to use.”
“That is a problem for another day,” I said. “She was a brave child, and she will be a capable woman, as her mother is.”
Ptolemy smiled, as men do when their daughter is praised. “You like her, then?”
“I do,” I said. “I saw her when I visited Thais last. She said you must win for her, and I promised her that we should.”
“Well, if you have promised Chloe, we must be about it,” Ptolemy said, but he did not laugh. “Get your men ready to march this afternoon. We are going down the western bank to Memphis.”
“Yes, sir,” I said and turned to go.
Ptolemy stopped me. “And promote an aide. You need one now.”
AND A REMOUNT, I thought. I had not recognized the big black horse as belonging to one of my men, so I presumed he must belong to some member of Perdiccas’ Companion Cavalry. In which case he was mine. My horse hadn't turned up, but I thought he mig
ht be better, actually. I had not been very fond of that remount, as she was inclined to be nervous. I called him Perseus, and he did not seem to object.
We marched four hours in the afternoon, leading the column and scouting both before and behind, providing a screen for the infantry. At the first stop my scouts to the rear came up. “Sir? We are being shadowed by a group of horsemen. We saw them behind us a little while ago.”
“Form up!” I ordered, getting the scant hundred and forty-five into line across the road, while the infantry phalanx that was last in column went into square in preparation.
We waited. A fly settled on Perseus’ ear, and he twitched.
Around the curve of the river behind us came a company of men, some three hundred, all mounted. They checked when they saw us. I raised my hand and shaded my eyes. Heavy cavalry, I thought. Here and there a flash of bright silk. And then I recognized them as the pair in front came forward at a walk, a big man in steel, his head bare in the sun, and a light bearded man with a bow slung at his back.
“Artashir! Glaukos!”
They came up to us, and there was much shouting and pounding each other on the back—most of the shouting from me, and most of the pounding from Glaukos.
Ptolemy came back while we were standing about and embraced them both like brothers. “What happened to you?”
“We couldn't get through,” Artashir said, drawing himself up. “When we had to break off the attack on the camp, we had the main body of Perdiccas’ infantry between us and you. So I pulled us out to the east, and we lurked in the woods. Just before dawn Glaukos came along.”
Glaukos nodded. “We got stuck too. I saw you give the order, Lydias, but we couldn't disengage and get over there. So I picked what looked like the clearest route out, and we went south. Around midnight we heard them breaking camp and coming our way, so we swung east to stay clear of them. I'm not about to take on fifteen hundred cavalry or so with two hundred and fifty. We waited for their vanguard to go by, and then slipped around the east side through the farms. And ran into Artashir. We got some rest and then midmorning went to see what had happened at the fort. They told us you were on the road south, so we left our wounded there with the others and followed.”
