Scythian Trilogy Book 3: Funeral in Babylon

by Max Overton

  "And Timon?"

  "He's been found guilty of treason. After a bit of persuasion, he admitted to making arms for the Scythians. He'll be executed by stoning this evening."

  "Sir, that admission is taken out of context." Nikometros stepped forward as he spoke, waving his arms in agitation. The guards drew their swords and Dymnos put a restraining hand on Nikometros' arm. He allowed himself to be pulled back. In a calmer voice he went on. "Call him back or question Tomyra. They'll give you the truth of it."

  Alcimenes stared coldly at the unkempt man in front of him. "I'll consider it." He waved his hand vaguely at the secretaries. "Continue reading the charges, Druon."

  "Third, that you waged war on the loyal allies of Alexander and, by extension, on your fellow Macedonians."

  Nikometros gaped. "What allies? I know of no allies."

  Alcimenes leaned forward. "Do you deny you invaded the lands of..." He pushed a few papers aside and picked one up, scanning several lines of writing before continuing. "...the lands of the Serratae. Not only did you carry war to this people but also you caused the death of their chief Dimurthes."

  Nikometros shook his head weakly. "That's not how it was," he muttered. "How did you come by this information?"

  "That isn't your concern. The facts speak for themselves. You stand condemned." Alcimenes pushed his chair back, gripping the arms as he started to rise to his feet. "Guards, take this man..."

  Nikometros took a pace forward, shrugging off Dymnos' hand. "Sir, may I not at least confront my accuser."

  Alcimenes collapsed back into his chair and stared. "What a novel idea!" He gave a short bark of laughter and waved away the guards. "Why would you want to do that?"

  "The man is lying. I am sure that he's one of the former chief's men. I could easily show that he seeks my death, by any means, not the truth."

  "I thought you said you were some sort of a blood brother to the chief. Why would he want you dead?"

  "That was the father, sir. The son, who succeeded him, wanted my death."

  Alcimenes shook his head and picked up a delicately wrought silver cup of wine from the table. He sipped, looking thoughtfully at Nikometros over the rim.

  "You cannot confront your accuser."

  "Sir, I beg of you..."

  Alcimenes put down the cup and held up his hand. "He's no longer available. His name is Parates, a merchant of some distinction in these parts, and one who has served the King before. He made a sworn statement before me, accusing you of these crimes. Do you know the man?" he asked.

  Nikometros frowned. "I don't know the name, sir."

  "Then why should I delay?" Alcimenes cocked his head. "Should I take the sworn statement of a reputable merchant, or that of an accused man who will say anything to escape death?"

  Nikometros stared stonily at the garrison commander. "I am a loyal soldier of my king, sir. I fought bravely against his enemies and would do so again. Let me call witnesses to speak on my behalf."

  "Who would you call? Don't think to buy time by naming distant witnesses."

  Nikometros shook his head. "They are here, sir. My companion Timon and the young woman Tomyra."

  "I already know your man is loyal. He took some persuasion to admit his own crimes but refused to implicate you." Alcimenes sipped his wine again. "Why the woman? What is she to you?"

  "She is a priestess of the Mother Goddess, sir. Sacred to the Scythians and Greeks alike."

  Alcimenes pursed his lips. "This deity of theirs...she has a name?"

  "Tabiti, sir, though they rarely invoke her by name. I'm convinced she's the goddess we know as Artemis."

  Alcimenes leaned back in his chair and stared at and through Nikometros. He tapped a finger against his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration. After many minutes, he nodded.

  "Very well, I'll question your witnesses."

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  Chapter Three

  The doors to the commander's residence crashed open, the heavy oak panels shivering with the force of the impact. Timon, his arms bound behind him, rebounded from one door and kicked out at his guards. One fell to the tiled floor with an agonised howl, clutching his groin. The others fell on Timon, wrestling him to the floor and landing a series of heavy blows with their fists.

  "Enough!" Alcimenes leapt to his feet, violently pushing back the table. His wine cup toppled and the secretary Druon made an unsuccessful grab for it. A purple puddle seeped into the papers.

  "Get that man up," hissed Alcimenes. "Dymnos!" He whirled on the officer standing by Nikometros. "If you cannot control your men I'll find someone who can."

  Dymnos saluted and strode across to the struggling guards. He tossed one away, pushed another aside and hauled Timon upright. Ignoring the bellowing man's attempts to kick him, Dymnos cocked a fist and drove it into Timon's face. Blood spurted and Timon staggered back then sat down hard on the tiled floor. He stared up at the figures standing over him.

  "Fonf of whoref," Timon mumbled through the blood pouring from a swollen gashed lip. "I'ff already told you the truff." He shook his head, wincing and peered past Dymnos. "Niko? If ffat you?"

  Nikometros stepped forward, past Dymnos. "Yes, Timon." He dropped to one knee beside his friend and gently wiped the blood away with his fingers.

  "Godff, Niko," mumbled Timon. "Tell thefe baftardf the truth of it. They accufe me of making weaponf for the enemy."

  "I know, my friend. They believe we both conspired to betray our fellow countrymen." Nikometros half turned and gestured behind him. "The commander here wants to ask you some questions." He got to his feet, wiping the blood on his tunic.

  "Sir, allow me to tend to this man's wounds before you question him."

  Alcimenes stared coldly at the blood-spattered man on the floor. "He has already been condemned and I don't intend to waste any more time on this than I must." He walked around the table and stood over Timon. "Tell me about the patrol you were in that was ambushed by the Scythians."

  Timon spat on the floor, bloody saliva dribbling into his beard. "North Sogdian province, near the Oxus River. There had been raids on the farms." He shrugged. "We rode out to find the raiders. What more do you want me to say?"

  "Who commanded you? This man?" Alcimenes pointed at Nikometros.

  Timon shook his head and groaned. "No, some stuck-up prig by the name of Eumenes." He glanced up at Nikometros. "Sorry, Niko. I know he was your friend but he shouldn't have been leading us."

  "And when did this Eumenes die?"

  "In the first volley." Timon thought for a moment. "Things happened fast."

  "What did this man do?"

  "Niko? He saved our miserable carcasses. Half of us were dead already and nobody knew which way to turn. We were cut off but he led us over the hills and down the other side." Timon shook his head again, wincing. Drops of blood spattered the tile. "I couldn't have pulled the men together like that; none of us could. But Niko did. Just bad luck we ran into a Scythian raiding party."

  "Then what happened?"

  "They cut us to pieces. Only three of us were captured."

  "Three? Who was the other?"

  Timon shifted uncomfortably on the tiles, pulling against his bonds. He cleared his throat and spat again. "Mardes, son of Oxartes. He was a Persian auxiliary recently enlisted."

  "And where is he now?"

  Timon shrugged. "Nikometros sent him south with dispatches about four, maybe five months ago. He was to report to the local commander."

  Alcimenes pursed his lips and stood for a moment looking down at Timon before turning back to the papers on his table. He picked up a wine-stained list and scanned it. Abruptly he signalled to Dymnos.

  "Send riders out immediately to the garrison commanders at Nesapur, Dezi and Semnan." Alcimenes began to pace as he fired out the names. "See if this Mardes has turned up. If he has, bring him to me, together with his report."

  Dymnos saluted and strode from the room, his shouted commands
cut off when he closed the doors behind him.

  "I can tell you what was in the report, sir," Nikometros quietly responded.

  "No doubt," snapped Alcimenes. "However, the existence of this Mardes or the report will verify your account of the ambush and what followed." He pulled up his chair and sat down then picked up his wine cup. Finding it empty he slammed it down on the table and gestured irritably for it to be filled. Druon hurried over with a jug.

  "You there, on the floor." Alcimenes pointed at Timon then hesitated. "By the gods, Druon, what is that fellow's name?"

  "Sir," interrupted Nikometros. "His name is Timon, I elevated him in the field to junior officer rank. I would remind you sir, that even though he stands condemned by you, he's a brave soldier and comes from a good Macedonian family." His voice grew steely and he drew himself up as he spoke. "He does not deserve your discourtesy."

  Alcimenes stared at Nikometros in silence for several moments. Abruptly he snorted with laughter and signalled to the guards by the door. "Pick him up. Put him in a chair." He waited while Timon's handlers placed him in a chair.

  "His bonds, sir?" inquired Nikometros.

  Alcimenes nodded and a guard cut the ropes around Timon. The big man flexed his arms and looked speculatively at the commander.

  "Now, Timon," Alcimenes stared at the big man. "...Please tell me how you survived capture by the Scythians. By all accounts they usually take no prisoners."

  Timon nodded. "Aye, that's right..." He caught a finger signal from Nikometros and appended a reluctant "...sir."

  "They're a superstitious lot...sir," went on Timon. "They saw an old armband of Niko's and thought it was a sign from their Goddess. They spared us, intending to sacrifice us."

  Alcimenes silently and intently inspected Timon. After a few seconds, he shifted in his chair. "And...?"

  "They sent Niko unarmed against a fully armed Scythian." Timon grinned, wincing as his split lip gaped. "By all the gods, that was a fight! Disarmed the bastard and killed him with his own sword."

  Alcimenes raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? Then what happened?"

  Timon raised the hem of his tunic to his lips and gently pressed them. He eyed the bloodstains, his tongue probing the wounds. "The priestess said it was a sign from the Goddess. She talked her father, who was the chief, into sparing our lives. He made Niko a blood brother."

  "So, we come to it." Alcimenes leaned back with a sigh and sipped from his cup.

  The door to the courtyard opened and Dymnos slipped into the room.

  Alcimenes gestured him to one side. "What was the nature of this oath?" Alcimenes fixed on Timon again. "What were the terms? What obligation was placed on you?"

  Timon shrugged. "To fight for one another. His enemies were our enemies, his friends our friends."

  "Scythians fought against our troops," the commander quietly replied. "It cannot have been pleasant being forced by your oath to take arms against your countrymen."

  Timon grinned again, one hand leaping to his lip. "Not us, sir! Niko here thought that might arise so made it a term of the agreement that we never be forced to fight Macedonians or their allies."

  "Yet you fought against the Serratae?"

  Timon furrowed his brow. "What of it?"

  "The Serratae signed a treaty with the Empire. They are our allies."

  Timon paled, his jaw hanging slack. He swallowed and glanced up at Nikometros. "That cannot be," he gasped. "Can it, Niko?"

  Nikometros stared at Alcimenes. "When was this treaty made, sir?" he asked.

  Alcimenes waved his hand vaguely through the air. "A few months, I think. Maybe more."

  "Then we fought them before they became allies." Nikometros turned and smiled encouragingly at Timon.

  "Is one of your titles 'Lion of Scythia'?" Alcimenes abruptly asked, fixing on Niko. He nodded. "Yes, I see from your face you know the title. Well, the chief of the Serratae, one Sparses I believe, mentioned you specifically as aiding their enemies the Massegetae."

  Alcimenes rose to his feet and signalled to Dymnos. "There is no answer to that, Nikometros son of Leonnatos, you are proven guilty of warring against an ally of King Alexander. The penalty is death. Dymnos, the sentence will be carried out immediately."

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  Chapter Four

  The guards stepped forward, hands on sword hilts, and flanked Nikometros and Timon.

  Dymnos turned to Alcimenes, hand outstretched. "Sir," he implored. "Hear the priestess. She waits outside the door."

  Alcimenes hesitated and Nikometros spoke quietly into the gap. "She's Scythian royalty sir. As well as priestess, she's daughter of the old chief. There's no one who knows the circumstances of the war with the Serratae better."

  Alcimenes scowled and signalled the guards back against the wall. "Very well." He stabbed a finger at Nikometros. "You will not speak. I wish her words to be hers alone." Slumping back into his chair he picked up his cup and drank. "Send her in."

  A guard opened the outer door and stood aside to let two figures slip past. Tomyra glided softly into the sun-flecked room, her eyes flicking over the figures seated and standing around her. Behind her strode the athletic figure of Bithyia, hand resting on the handle of her dagger while her gaze took in the situation. She caught sight of the bloody figure of Timon and a look of fury welled up into her eyes. Bithyia strode over to Timon and laid a hand on his shoulder, her other sliding the dagger from her belt.

  "Who has done this, beloved?" she whispered. "I will have his life."

  Alcimenes nodded and two guards leveled their spears at Bithyia. "What is your name, woman?" he grated.

  "Bithyia. Handmaiden to the priestess of the Great Goddess and daughter of the Massegetae," replied Bithyia. "Who has done this to my man?"

  "Then I don't need to speak to you. Stand away or die. It's nothing to me." Ignoring the anger on Bithyia's face, Alcimenes turned to the other woman. "You must be the priestess."

  Tomyra glanced at the silent figure of Nikometros then toward the bearded man. She inclined her head in a gracious nod. "I am Tomyra, daughter of Spargises, chief of the Massegetae. I am also priestess of the Great Earth Mother." She paused, inspecting him. "And you, sir?"

  "Alcimenes, son of Leanndros. I am commander of Alexander's armies in these parts." The garrison commander stood and gestured to the chair in front of him as Timon and Bithyia were ushered to one side. "Please be seated, lady. Some wine?"

  When Tomyra shook her head, Alcimenes reseated himself. "I must ask you some questions, lady. Do you speak Greek well enough or must I find an interpreter?"

  Tomyra settled herself onto the chair before replying. "I can speak your tongue and will answer your questions. But before I do so, Alcimenes, son of Leanndros." Her gaze hardened. "I would know why I and my escort are kept captive. We came in peace, bringing greetings and gifts from our king to yours."

  "An unfortunate set of circumstances, my lady." Alcimenes avoided Tomyra's eyes. "I'm sure we can quickly settle this matter and let you continue with your mission."

  "And my escort?" Tomyra looked across at Nikometros then turned toward Timon. "They seem to be ill used."

  "There lies the problem, my lady. These men are soldiers of our king, Alexander. They are accused of capital crimes." Alcimenes leaned forward and stared at the young woman. "Your words may shed some light on the issue."

  Tomyra paled but held herself still. "Ask on then, my lord Alcimenes. What do you wish to know?"

  Alcimenes leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands, resting his chin on upturned fingers. He silently regarded the young woman for several minutes. "What is this man, this Nikometros, to you?" Alcimenes asked at last.

  Tomyra paused, her eyes flicking sideways toward Niko. "He is...was, a general in my father's army and protector of the priestess. Now he is an interpreter and envoy from the king of the Massegetae to the court of Alexander."

  Alcimenes smiled thinly. "Nothing more?"


  "What do you mean?"

  "I have a report that he's your lover."

  Tomyra flushed and shrugged. "What of it?" she asked.

  "I was led to believe that priestesses were virgins." Alcimenes' scrutiny sharpened on her face. "Does this mean you're no longer a priestess?"

  Tomyra's eyes flashed and she drew herself upright. "The Mother Goddess accepted me when I offered my virginity to her. She accepts me still."

  "Why did the Massegetae take in this Nikometros when the custom was to kill captives?"

  "The Goddess willed it. Nikometros bested my champion in the ritual sacrifice. Also my father, the chief, wished it."

  "So he was made a blood brother." Alcimenes nodded then he snapped, "To what purpose? To war on your enemies?"

  Tomyra shook her head. "Is that what all this is about? Nikometros did not war on you, even though we Massegetae have always raided the farms and villages of these lands. Niko stipulated that his friendship did not extend that far and my father accepted it. Furthermore, we left for the north within days and never saw another Greek."

  Alcimenes leaned toward Druon and held a short whispered conversation with him. Druon scribbled on a piece of paper for a few minutes then filed the piece carefully in a small stack.

  The garrison commander turned back to Tomyra. "Do you deny the Massegetae and your lover Nikometros waged war against the Serratae?"

  "No!" snapped Tomyra. "And if I had my way I would exterminate every last one of them."

  "The Massegetae fought and killed Serratae people?"

  "Yes."

  "And Nikometros?"

  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  "The Serratae are allies of the Macedonians. To wage war on an ally is treason."

  Timon groaned from his position near the wall.

  Alcimenes glanced up. "You will keep silent," he grated.

  "If Greeks are allies to the Serratae," whispered Tomyra. "You must truly be barbarians."

  Alcimenes exploded to his feet, his face going scarlet. "You call us barbarians?" he shouted. "We, who have brought civilisation to the known world?"

  "How civilised is it to kill by treachery? To slaughter innocent women and children? To rape a consecrated priestess of the Mother Goddess?"