by Jo Graham
I trotted along the back of the line behind them. Out in the water, the men of Perdiccas’ cavalry were halfway across. We wanted to hit them just when they started to form up. And from what I could see of the speed of the shallow water, they wouldn't get into anything approaching formation until they got almost ashore.
“Form up!” I shouted, and the Ile responded. The horses were restive, ready to go.
Glaukos looked relieved.
I raised my empty left hand again. He kept his eyes on it.
Almost to shore. Almost. The first ones of them were knee deep in the water, the rest of the cavalry strung out across the river on the sandbar. Almost.
“Forward!” I shouted. “Ptolemy and Egypt!”
With a spring, all Ptolemy's Ile leapt forward.
Perseus took off too, and I lurched at the unexpected charge. “Oh shit,” I said, fumbling with my left hand trying to get my sword out and hauling on Perseus’ head at the same time. He was a trained warhorse, and he'd been in charges before. He knew his place was in the middle of the fray and he wasn't going to hang back.
I pulled him up, swearing, just short of the river, right behind the last of my men. It took all my strength to hold him in, turning his head sharply so that he wasn't facing the same direction as the other horses. Which left me broadside to the battle.
“You stupid ass,” I said, as he sidled around to the right, trying to get back into it. “Cut it out.”
Too close. I was in too close, and my men had opened gaps in their ranks as they engaged in groups. I barely got my sword in hand and the reins transferred to my bad hand before the first of the enemy was upon me.
He came in against my right side, any momentum he might have had blunted by the water. His horse couldn't charge, and coming at me at a walk didn't give him much. I met the first blow, then disengaged below his guard. My thrust hit him in the fleshy part of the shoulder just below the harness, digging into the muscle as he tried to turn his horse away.
And then he was past me and I was facing the next one, guard and thrust, guard and thrust, the rhythm of steel on steel. I finally got in, hitting the back of his hand hard enough to break fingers and knock his sword from him.
Perseus lurched, and I barely held on with my left hand. In the process I lost the opportunity. My opponent got clear.
I pulled Perseus around, facing the river once again. “You idiot. I'm beginning to change my mind about you,” I said to him. Perhaps he was too much horse for a man with a bad hand. I should have to have some gentle beast suitable for an invalid.
The thought made me snarl. I put my heels to his side and urged him straight into the fray.
Guard and cut and slash, the familiar dance, with Perseus beneath me and the world narrowing to the length of my sword, death blossoming where I was. For a few moments there was nothing else.
And then I was clear, standing with the water about Perseus’ knees. I could not do this, I thought. I needed to see better, to be more than a soldier. I could not simply surrender to battle madness and forget all else. I was responsible.
I backed Perseus a few paces and looked about.
To my left, their infantry was locked with ours in the water just short of the riverbank, our front lines completely entangled. We were pushing them back slowly and surely, the water almost to the waists of the men in our front rank. They struggled in the water, chest to chest, shield to shield.
Before me, our cavalry had engaged theirs in the water upstream of the rest. The bottom was farther here and the water more swift-flowing. As I looked I saw a soldier, one of ours or theirs I could not tell, fall from his horse. I did not think his wound was mortal, but the water drew him under and away, the current running strong and hard.
For a moment I stared, and then I realized what was happening. So many men and animals on the sandbar were destroying it. Horses and elephants were stirring up the bottom, and once disturbed the sand was carrying away in the swift current. The Nile could not be trifled with, and She fought for Egypt.
At that moment Perdiccas ordered the elephants forward.
Elephants do not mind deep water. Indeed, in India where they live one may see whole herds of elephants bathing and playing like children in water that a man would be foolish to dare. Perdiccas’ elephants plunged into the water, twenty of them, bearing straight down upon our infantry lines. His own men were entangled with ours and doubtless could not get free, but that didn't matter to Perdiccas. He had never shown much concern for lives when victory hung in the balance.
To my left, behind the infantry lines, I heard Ptolemy shouting, but could not understand his words.
“Lydias’ Ile,” I yelled, “form up!” We must disengage as best we could. Elephants are almost impossible to fight from the ground, and our men would be up to their necks in water that would not bother the elephants at all.
“Form up!” I heard Glaukos’ voice echoing mine.
All our men would not be able to disengage, but those who could needed to now.
There was a buzzing overhead, and the first flight of Artashir's arrows passed over us. His thirty horse archers were drawn up in a tight formation on the riverbank, targeting the drivers of the first elephants. Their horses stood as though they had been carved from stone, trained for years thus so that they will not twitch and spoil their riders’ shots. But there were so few. There were only thirty of them left.
There were ten of my men about me now, forming up as though I were the troop leader. And the first elephant was almost upon us, plowing through the water, great plumes of spume flying from his feet.
“All right, men,” I said. “You've done this before and you know the drill. Get the drivers. Or go for the eyes. And keep loose. We have to confuse them and stay out of their way.”
“Easier on dry land, sir,” one wit said.
“So's fucking,” I said, “but you take the opportunity when it arises.”
They laughed, as I meant them to. It takes nerve to stand when elephants charge down upon you.
And then they were upon us, the lead animal plowing through the river, his long tusks held high.
I dodged to the right with the wit, Perseus plunging through the water. Most horses will not abide elephants, though our more experienced warhorses had seen them before. I was glad to know that at least he wasn't going to pitch me off and run away.
As I passed the elephant's side, I slashed at it, but my sword did no damage to its thick hide. Which was, of course, the trouble with elephants.
We had opened, as we should, letting them pass between us and taking what blows we could land. Now we closed behind them, trying to get around them and get at the drivers.
I nearly fell as the elephant swung about, his tusks passing just over my head as Perseus plunged beneath his nose. The elephant trumpeted in anger.
Well enough, I thought. While he is playing lion baiting with me, he is doing nothing else. I had the reins in my good hand, and did not try to strike, just ride like a spirit about and beneath him, bedeviling the animal.
The elephant wheeled about, more angered by our attacks than hurt. He turned, lowering his head like a bull.
Not too far away, Artashir sat on his horse like a statue, only his arm moving as he drew and released, drew and released.
The elephant came down upon him.
He held the arrow at the notch, and even his horse did not flinch, her ears forward and pointed at the elephant.
I shouted. I kicked Perseus hard and we took after the elephant, driving hard through the sheets of water the mighty beast threw up.
He was waiting too long. He was waiting too late, waiting for the perfect shot.
And then Artashir released. The arrow flew straight and true, catching the handler in the throat. Blood fountained from severed arteries, and he pitched backward.
At last Artashir moved as the vast unguided beast bore down upon him, his little horse struggling in the mud of the riverbank. She slipped, scrambling, an
d stumbled to her knees.
“Faster, boy,” I said, digging my heels into Perseus so that we were right beside the elephant, and I struck with all my strength at him.
Time elongated. It seemed forever, the lift of my arm, the brave movement of Perseus’ legs. Ears, Sati had said. Something about ears. She had said it long ago, but I heard her again, as though she said it now, just behind me, a smile in her voice. Their drivers strike them on the ears to direct them.
I hit the elephant's left ear as hard as I could with the flat of my sword.
Raising his long trunk, he veered off to the right, plunging past Artashir and his horse where they floundered in the water.
I pulled Perseus up just short of Artashir. He was out of the saddle, trying to coax his mare to rise. From the way she moved, favoring her right foreleg, I thought she had definitely sprained something.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” I said. “That was quite a shot. Once in a lifetime.”
“Let's hope,” Artashir said.
I turned Perseus about, looking out over the river. Several other elephants were engaged by my men, weaving and splashing in a wild melee in the river. Off to my left, our infantry was still fully engaged, though on the far end an elephant had broken through and was creating havoc in our lines. Ptolemy was down there. I saw the red crest of his helmet.
The sandbar must have been nearly gone. Men struggled in water chest deep. Bodies swirled on the current or, dragged down by armor, bumped along the bottom, pulled toward Memphis and the distant sea beyond. As I looked, I saw a man suddenly scream and disappear under the water.
I blinked. No arrow had hit him. No soldier of ours had been near him.
The water roiled. Beneath its surface churned a long, reptilian shape, gray-green and three times the length of a man.
“Oh Lady of Egypt,” I whispered, looking frantically toward the walls of Memphis.
The grate was up. They had released the sacred crocodiles. And the water was full of blood.
“Everybody get back! Everybody back!” I shouted. “Men of Ptolemy's Ile! Get out of the water! Everybody back on the bank!” I rode through the water toward my men, shouting at the top of my voice. “Form up on shore! Everybody back!”
We had a riverbank to retire to. Perdiccas’ men had only the island, and the way there was deeper now, and much more deadly.
Down the line I could hear Ptolemy's voice raised as well. “Out of the water! Get back!”
Another man screamed as he was pulled under by an unseen shape, the water boiling with blood and bits of his flesh.
“Everybody back!”
Perseus splashed toward the shore. Now the water was up to his shoulders, now only to his knees.
I stopped. “Everybody back! Form up!”
“Form up on shore, you sons of bitches,” Glaukos was shouting. I couldn't see him, but I heard him clearly above the din.
Perdiccas’ men were in a panic. Some were throwing arms and harness away, swimming madly for the island. Some of them even made it.
Others plunged forward into us, dropping swords and sarissas, begging for quarter. They should rather a hundred times surrender to our men than face the monsters in the water.
Soaked to the skin, I stood on Perseus and felt it flow through me like lightning, like rain in distant lands, the ancient power of Egypt. Sobek, the defender, embodied in all his children, fought for Memphis.
Egypt has Horus again, the lioness whispered beside me. The powers obey Pharaoh, Our son, Our hands on earth.
About Perseus’ knees I felt the river rise.
The current had been swifter, but now came the water, the Nile rising fingerwidth by fingerwidth, swollen with rain fallen nine days ago a thousand miles away.
The river rose.
“Get out of the water!” Ptolemy's horse was ankle-deep, cantering through the very edge of the flood, as he swept down the lines. “Everybody out! Grant quarter if they drop their weapons! Everybody out of the water. You there, surrender and you will be spared!”
The sun did not make a halo about him, and no god touched him with fire, but I felt the power crackle around Ptolemy, felt it bending to his will. Pharaoh commanded, and Egypt herself answered.
“Out of the water! Drop your sword, man. Quarter is given.”
They were surrendering to him in tens and twenties now, casting away sarissas and flinging themselves face down on dry land, when two or three of them could easily have dragged him from his horse and killed him. He was one man among many of them, but none raised a hand to him. Instead they threw down their arms and begged for quarter.
“Quarter is given,” Ptolemy shouted. “Throw down your weapons and get out of the water!”
The river was running swift and dangerous now. Crocodiles roiled the depths, as in darkness at the dawn of the world. Men swept away did not surface again.
I shouldered my way to Ptolemy. “All right?”
“Not a scratch,” Ptolemy said. He looked me up and down. “You need a better horse. I saw you spinning around out there.”
I felt the blood rising in my face. “I apologize, sir,” I said stiffly.
He leaned forward and clapped me on the shoulder. “No need for that. You did well. Get that end of the line formed up. Let's see what we've got and where we are. And get Glaukos over here to take charge of prisoners. We're going to have plenty.”
“Quarter to all who ask it?” I said. That wasn't usual, and I wanted to make sure.
Ptolemy nodded. “Quarter to all. Let's get these men rounded up.”
I went back down to the right. Past the end of our lines, four elephants were standing exhausted in the date grove on the edge of a farmer's field, their drivers dead and their tack smashed to splinters, though none of them seemed gravely injured. I thought I would just let them alone for the time being.
Glaukos and five or six others were still mounted, trying to get the last of our men out of the water, mostly infantrymen who were bogged down by their heavy breastplates.
A little farther along a group of my men had formed up on the shore. The troop leader called to me, “Orders, Hipparch?”
“Get the wounded back into the walls of Memphis. Give quarter to all who ask. And keep out of the water,” I said.
“Don't have to say that twice,” he said, grinning with the strange euphoria that comes over men when they expected to die and instead have lived.
On the island, Perdiccas’ rearguard still waited. Some of the men who had tried to cross had struggled back to the island, but now there was nowhere to go. On both sides the river ran fast and strong, patrolled by the sacred crocodiles of Sobek. They would have a long, cold, wet night of it, I thought. And no way off without boats. Perdiccas was more than welcome to it.
I counted men, took tallies of prisoners and wounded, and went to report to Ptolemy.
“I've four hundred and two men fit to fight, sir,” I said. “Another eighty-eight wounded and seventy-six dismounted. Artashir is dismounted, but he's not hurt. I don't think his men were too cut up. I've thirty dead confirmed, though there are men missing.”
Ptolemy nodded. “The river,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “We can look for bodies downstream. What are we doing tonight?”
Ptolemy glanced across the water. “We wait,” he said finally. “They can't leave. Let's give Perdiccas a while to think about the predicament he's in. Get our wounded in to the surgeons and get everybody a square meal and a rest. In the morning we'll be good, and Perdiccas won't be.”
“There's something else,” I said. “We've also got between Glaukos and me over eight hundred prisoners.”
Ptolemy blinked. “Eight hundred?”
“Yes,” I said. “Mostly Silver Shields infantry. They were in the vanguard, so most of them were on our side of the river when they got cut off. We've basically got the whole phalanx except for their dead.”
Ptolemy whistled. The Silver Shields had been Alexander's c
rack infantry, veterans of all his campaigns back to Chaeronea. Some had served since Alexander's father's time. “That's what? Half or a little more of the total?”
I nodded. “I'd say five hundred. The other three hundred are from assorted units. Some of this, some of that. I've given quarter as you said, and ordered that their wounded should be treated.”
“Good. Because they're on our side now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are they?”
“They will be when I'm done talking to them.” Ptolemy clasped my wrist, and went past me to where the prisoners sat at the edge of the field, their hands folded before them, looking out across the river in flood toward Perdiccas’ banners on the island.
The setting sun cast shadows across us as it westered behind Saqqara. Above, a desert falcon turned on the air.
“Horus of Egypt,” I said.
I lifted my head and felt the wind of victory.
THE BARGAIN OF
THE PTOLEMIES
I dreamed, and in my dream I fought again. I fought not beside the Nile in flood, but in the streets of Alexandria. Warships crowded the harbor, men landing sword in hand, while above all our half-completed buildings burned, streamers of flame shooting up to the sky. Showers of sparks fell around me as I struggled hand to hand in our streets. The curve of the harbor was engulfed.
I was looking for someone, but I didn't know who. About me our city burned.
Smoke billowed, acrid and thick. My head spun, my chest heaved.
She stepped from the flames, a woman wreathed in red sparks with the head of a lioness. “Ptolemy grasped the fire,” She said. “And a new world dies aborning.”
“No!” I ran toward her, shaking my watering eyes. “No! I tell you this will not be!”
Her golden eyes were sad. “So passes another Great King. So passes another might have been.”
“This will not be, I tell you!” I shouted. “This must not be!”
