by Max Overton
Tirses grinned then turned back to view the city again.
The Macedonian escort clattered up. The men gave the city a cursory glance then sat and talked quietly while they waited for their leader to command them.
Dymnos guided his horse to the knot of Scythians. He leaned toward Tomyra and Nikometros. "Incredible, isn't it? I admit I just sat and stared when I first saw it. The palace itself lies within the seven walls." His gaze lingered on the walls. "The innermost one contains the residence of the king and the treasury...not that I've seen either. I'm told there are beautiful gardens, fountains and orchards there too. The court, many officials and guards occupy the lower levels."
Tomyra shook her head, eyes wide, slowly absorbing the sight. "And the people?" she asked.
"In the city below," Dymnos replied with his gaze still fastened on the sight. "Nobody enters the walled city without the express permission of the officials."
"So where do we report?" Nikometros asked.
Dymnos pointed across the plain. "The army is encamped over there, near the river. We will find an officer in the Companion cavalry and have word carried to Hephaestion."
"I hope this matter is resolved swiftly," Nikometros said with a note of irritation in his tone.
"Perhaps, though undoubtedly there will be many layers of officials to get through." Dymnos grimaced then looked Nikometros in the eye. "I must ask you and your men to be more circumspect now, Nikometros." A tiny smile tilted his lips at the corners. "I must at least appear to be in charge of this unit."
Nikometros nodded, his attention distracted by an excited shout from Bithyia.
"There, Timon, see?" the warrior woman cried. "Is it a battle?"
To the far left, on the opposite side of the Royal Road from the army encampment, lay a great level area. Dust rose into clear summer sky, churned up by the hooves of countless horses. Glimpses of armour and weapons pierced the dust clouds and the cries of men wafted faintly on the breeze.
Nikometros shaded his eyes and studied the mass of cavalry below them. "Not a battle," he decided. "What would you say, Dymnos, manoeuvres?"
"Let us ride down and see. The road carries us in that direction anyway."
Dymnos urged his horse forward and led his troop and the band of Scythians down the road at a gallop.
Nikometros rode on Dymnos' heels, the wind pulling his cloak out behind him.
As they drew close to the mass of milling horsemen, the apparent confusion resolved itself into several distinct groupings. A body of riders was involved in intricate manoeuvres, but the majority were merely onlookers, standing around the perimeter of the large field. Heads turned as Dymnos and Nikometros approached and a detachment of armed men rode out to intercept them.
An elderly officer with a grizzled beard brought his men to a halt in front of Dymnos and raised a weather-beaten hand. A large scar over his right eye showed pale in his tanned skin. "Your business, sir?" the officer demanded.
Dymnos saluted. "I bring dispatches for lord Hephaestion. Where might I find him?"
The officer grunted. "He's over there with the king." He jerked his head in the direction of a small group of observers. "I doubt he'll see you now but I'll send word."
Tomyra sidled her mare up alongside Nikometros as the officer spoke. She gasped and sat up straight, staring at the men the officer indicated. "The king? Alexander?"
The elderly officer looked Tomyra over carefully and with evident pleasure. "Aye, lass," he replied with a smile. "Alexander, no less. And who might you be?"
Tomyra turned to the officer. "I am Tomyra, daughter of Spargises of the Massegetae Scythians. I accompany my lord Nikometros." She gestured. "We seek an audience with lord Hephaestion."
"Scythians, eh?" The officer stared at the horsemen behind her for several moments then at the accompanying Macedonian cavalry. He nodded and pointed to one side, addressing himself once more to Dymnos. "Wait over there. I'll send word to Hephaestion that you await his pleasure. If anyone asks your purpose, tell them my name...Agisthes." He watched as Dymnos led his men at a walk to the indicated area then called up a soldier. A few hurried words and the man galloped off towards the royal party.
The Scythians and accompanying escort spread out along the edge of the field and watched the action.
Nikometros stared at the riders as they wheeled and pranced in the open field. The riders advanced toward Alexander and halted just short of a group of tall, muscular women around Alexander. The women raised their voices in a high-pitched paean.
"Those are women!" Nikometros exclaimed. "Who in Hades are they?"
Tirses smirked. "Shapely ones, whoever they are. I can see breasts."
Agisthes rode up, overhearing the remark. "Amazons. They are supposed to be fine fighters," he said. "The local satrap found them and knew Alexander would be interested. Always interested in new things, is the king."
Tomyra gave a cry of derision. "Amazons? Nonsense." She gestured at the troop, now dismounted and bowing prettily to the king. "My Massegetae women archers would cut them down before they could use those little axes."
"Still," Dymnos replied, "They could be Amazons, couldn't they? Herodotus describes them as having their right breasts bared and being armed with axes."
Tomyra snorted again. "My mother was a priestess of the Sauromantians by the Euxine Sea. The tribes thereabouts called my mother and her women Amazons but they were modest. They never exposed themselves like that and always carried bows." She sneered as the women on the field clambered onto their ponies again. "Those are soft women playing at being warriors."
A body of horsemen rode out from the Macedonian cavalry and formed around the women, escorting them from the field. As they left, heads turned once more toward Nikometros and the Scythians.
"Which one is Alexander?" whispered Tomyra. "That tall one on the grey horse?"
Dymnos shook his head. "No, that is Hephaestion. The king is shorter. See, he rides the black stallion."
"Surely you are mistaken," Tomyra said. "The tall one is more kingly in his bearing."
"Many make that mistake, lass," interrupted Agisthes. "When Alexander first captured the harem of the Persian king Darius, he went with Hephaestion to pay his respects to Darius' mother. The old lady, being used to tall kings--Darius was a giant--thought Hephaestion was the king and bowed to him."
"What happened?"
"Alexander laughed. He said Hephaestion was also Alexander." The officer shook his head. "They were always close like that, even as boys. Well, some men like boys. For myself, I always take my pleasure with women..." His voice trailed off and his face flushed beneath his tan. "Your pardon, lass."
The figure of Alexander could be seen leaning over in earnest discussion with the taller man. Abruptly, Alexander wheeled his horse and led a detachment of men galloping toward the city. Hephaestion followed at a more sedate pace, angling back toward the main army camp. A rider trotted out to meet Agisthes. The officer listened then nodded, bidding the man stay close. He turned to Dymnos.
"Lord Hephaestion will see you immediately," said Agisthes. "This man will take you to his tent. I'll escort your companions and see to their comfort."
"Thank you," Dymnos replied, "But my dispatches concern my companions and they'll be needed as witnesses."
"Very well then," Agisthes crisply retorted. "If you would follow me, I'll take you there myself." He pulled his horse around and trotted off in the direction of the army camp.
The Scythians followed in a knot, whispers and comments humming through the air as they rode.
Nikometros turned to Tirses and barked a command. "Tirses, remember your training. Do not let the army see us undisciplined."
Tirses nodded and rode into the mob of tribesmen, shouting and pushing. Rapidly, their training reasserted itself and a tight body of cavalry followed the Macedonian escort into the heart of the army camp.
The muted roar of thousands of men busy with their everyday duties rose about Nikometros and
his friends. They passed a horse line where hundreds of mounts stood beneath great canvas awnings, attended by dozens of grooms and stable boys. Clouds of flies rose from the mounds of dung being collected for transport to the middens. The familiar stink of an encamped army assailed their nostrils, a mixture of excrement, cooking food and the rancid odours of unwashed bodies. Tents lined their passage, stretching away in orderly rows, each with a group of men standing or sitting by the entrance, mending tackle or sharpening weapons.
Heads turned, shouts arose as scores of men ran from tents and cooking fires to watch the newcomers. Old campaigners merely leaned on their spears and watched with interest while younger soldiers scurried to get closer.
Nikometros led his men through an avenue of armed men to the shade of a grove of poplars by the riverside. They dismounted and surrendered their horses to a swarm of grooms who led the beasts away to be fed and groomed.
Nikometros, with Timon, Tomyra and Bithyia close behind, entered a tattered tent guarded by watchful young men. Inside, the tent displayed none of the ostentatious finery that might be expected of a man of Hephaestion's rank, but gave the impression of a rough bivouac set up on a campaign in enemy territory. A large table scattered with maps and documents dominated, with several chairs and stools virtually the only other furniture. In the far corner sat a small truckle bed and an open wooden chest.
Dymnos stood at attention in front of the table, with Agisthes standing alertly to one side, his hand on the hilt of a sheathed sword. Hephaestion stood behind the table, reading the dispatches handed to him by Dymnos. Tall, with swept back blond hair streaked with grey, he looked up unsmiling when Nikometros and his friends entered the tent.
Hephaestion gestured toward a group of chairs. "Be seated. I'll talk with you in a moment." He continued to read. When he finished, he stood lost in thought for a moment then walked around the table to stand in front of Nikometros.
"What was your unit, lieutenant?" Hephaestion demanded.
Nikometros stood and saluted. "Companion Cavalry sir, fourth squadron."
Hephaestion's pale eyes searched Nikometros' face. "Your commander was Philotas, later Cleitus," Hephaestion stated in a flat voice.
Nikometros caught his breath then nodded. "Yes, sir. At the time I was transferred to garrison duty, Cleitus commanded, but Philippos was my immediate superior."
"You are unlucky in your commanders. First Philotas is executed for treason and now Cleitus is dead by the king's hand. Philippos fell in battle." Hephaestion's mouth twitched in a wry smile. "I'm not sure I should welcome you back under my command." He glanced down at the dispatches. "The garrison commander at Kharmsar is adamant that you're guilty of treason, lieutenant." Hephaestion held out the dispatches. "Read them. Tell me if they are accurate."
Nikometros accepted the papers and scanned through them. He read the charges carefully and the listed facts then handed the papers back to the commander. "Substantially correct, sir. I would argue with the findings, however. I am, and always have been, a loyal Macedonian soldier."
"Well said." Hephaestion nodded then turned back to the table and pushed the maps and papers aside. He found a blank piece of paper and scribbled on it for a few moments before holding it out to Nikometros.
"Take this and present yourself to the commander of the fourth squadron. For the time being you're reinstated in your position and may draw army pay...including any back pay owed. You will hold yourself and your man Timon in readiness to answer these charges should a decision be made to follow up on them."
Nikometros flushed. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me," Hephaestion dryly replied. "I hate to see a talented man wasted. You will be put to use."
"Yes, sir." Nikometros glanced round at Tomyra and the men he could see standing outside the tent. "And the others, sir? The men are Massegetae Scythians, here as envoys for their tribe. Further, this lady is a priestess of Artemis." He nodded at Tomyra.
Hephaestion acknowledged Tomyra with a nod and raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Artemis, you say? Well, be that as it may, in the meantime, they'll be housed with other embassies in the city."
Tomyra rose to her feet and smoothed her robes while nodding her head at the commander. "My lord," she said. "I ask that I and my companion handmaiden be allowed to remain with Nikometros and Timon."
Hephaestion shook his head. "This is an army camp, lady. No place for women such as yourselves. You'll be housed as befits your position within the city." He forestalled Tomyra's protest by raising his hand. "This is not open for discussion." Turning to Agisthes, Hephaestion issued a stream of orders before she could protest. The officer saluted and ushered Nikometros and his companions outside.
"I'll see that your friends are comfortably housed," Agisthes reassured them. "In the meantime, I suggest that you and your man report at once to your unit." He beckoned a nearby soldier and gave him detailed instructions. "Say your farewells quickly, lieutenant. No doubt you will see your companions again within a few days."
Agisthes waited while Nikometros and Tomyra quietly talked, looking discreetly away when they embraced. He signalled, nodding in satisfaction as Tirses and the Scythian horsemen remounted and stood waiting. At last the women finished their goodbyes and Nikometros and Timon stood and watched as their entourage disappeared toward the towering seven-fold walls of Ekbatana.
Nikometros turned at the sound of a soft cough and saw a young soldier standing awkwardly behind him.
"Sir," the young man said. "If you would be so good as to follow me, I'll take you to your squadron commander."
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Chapter Seven
"By the gods, it's Nikometros. What in Hades are you doing here?"
A young man, slim and of medium height in resplendent armour, pushed his way through the milling throng of onlookers around the tent of the Fourth Squadron commander. Black hair framed a soft, almost effete face; softness belied by the flinty fire of piercing dark eyes.
Nikometros looked round and for a moment struggled to recall the man's name. "Peithon? The Cretan? I might ask you the same. I thought you dead." He grinned and embraced the young man then stepped back and stared. "You fell at the Granicus, didn't you? I saw you fall myself."
Peithon grinned back and swept his dark hair to one side, revealing a jagged scar that lay pale on the sun-darkened skin of his neck. "If you'd turned back you might have seen I was still alive."
Nikometros frowned. "I could not. The squadron..."
Peithon waved a hand dismissively. "Of course not. I didn't expect it of you, nor of any man. We all take our chances in battle."
"What happened to you?"
"Oh, I survived long enough to be found by the doctors after the battle. It was some months before I could rejoin the squadron but by then you were languishing in some Sogdian hell-hole with a head wound." Peithon smiled and clapped Nikometros on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again."
"Thank you, Peithon." Nikometros looked at the commander's tent with the surrounding guards. "I must see the commander." He hesitated. "Still Kerros I suppose?"
Peithon nodded. "I wouldn't keep him waiting. I doubt he likes you any more now than before." He half-turned away, and then looked back over his shoulder. "Come and find me when you can, Nikometros. You can buy me a drink and tell me what happened to you."
"Where will I find you? Are you still a junior in the Third Squadron?"
Peithon smiled. "Gods, no. I'm a staff officer at the court now. Under Perdikkas. In fact, as a colonel I outrank you now." He winked then strode off through the crowd.
Nikometros approached one of the guards and introduced himself and his purpose. The guard thrust his head inside the tent flap for a few moments then turned back to Nikometros, bidding him enter.
The inside of the tent was more sumptuous than that of Hephaestion. The heavy walls and hangings muted the sounds and smells of the surrounding camp. A large bed occupied the rear of the tent
, strewn with thick blankets over a billowing mattress. The spoils of campaign lay everywhere, scattered over a richly patterned carpet. A small table stood to one side, lit by a bright oil lamp. A burly man lounged on a carved chair behind the table, his fingers wrapped around a jeweled cup.
The man looked up as Nikometros entered, strode across to the table and saluted. Putting his cup down, the man suppressed a belch and heaved his large body upright.
Nikometros held out the paper from Hephaestion. "Commander Kerros. Lieutenant Nikometros reporting for duty as ordered, sir."
Kerros stared at the paper then, with obvious distaste, took it from Nikometros with the tips of fat fingers. He unfolded it and scanned the writing. His mouth puckered into a moue of disgust.
"Nikometros. I heard a rumour you were back but hoped it wasn't true. Now you're ordered back to your squadron by Hephaestion, no less." Kerros turned his back on Nikometros and poured himself some more wine. "Your position has been filled, but I dare say I can find something for you to do." A smile creased his pudgy face. "Something suited to your talents."
Kerros barked out an order and one of the guards hurried in. "Take this man...this officer," he sneered. "...to the cells. His first duty is command of the punishment detail." Kerros lifted his cup and drank deeply, the wine spilling over his chin. "Nikometros, you will oversee the execution of one Lymnos, found guilty of uttering traitorous comments." He grinned. "One of your old comrades from your squad, I believe."
Nikometros maintained a stony expression and snapped off a crisp salute. "Yes sir." He turned on his heel and left the tent with the guard on his heels.
The man plucked at the sleeve of Nikometros' tunic and pointed across the camp. "This way, sir." He hurried off.
Nikometros followed with a sick expression on his face.
Timon joined him from a group of old soldiers standing near a campfire. "Not a bad lot, sir," Timon muttered with a grin. "Met a couple of fellows I knew from way back. They were telling me..." He broke off and looked askance at his commander's sour expression. "What happened, Niko?"
