Dropping his eyes, Sava croaked: “We need to get out of here. Fast.”
His companions looked crestfallen.
“But we just got here. I want another hot bath and an oil massage.” Borna protested lips creased in a salacious grin.
“We can’t risk it.” Sava shook his head. “The maenads could poison our food in revenge for what I did. Komkizo will demand that I be punished. He could send the Bacchae to attack us. I will tell King Spargapeithes that we are leaving. Go out to the stables and saddle the horses. Be ready.”
Sava strode back to their quarters and retrieved his saddlebag containing the last of his gold. He found Spargapeithes in the dining hall. Queen Barkida and her court had not arrived yet. The Agathrysi king looked to be dressed for the road. Sava sketched a bow, palm over heart.
“My Lord, we have decided to leave early this morning. On behalf of my friends, I want to thank you for your generous hospitality.”
“Ah, then it is as I heard.” Spargapeithes’ brows lifted over speculative blue eyes. A slight smile creased his lips.
“What did you hear sire?”
“It is of no great matter. News travels fast around here young Sava. The important thing is that my son Charnabon and I will accompany you to the war council. Charnabon is right now rounding up 20 warriors and organizing food and supplies for the journey.”
“Thank you sire. I look forward to your company and your wisdom.” Sava bowed again then hesitated. “By your leave I have a favor to ask.”
“Speak, son of Skopasis.”
“It concerns your female bath slave - Dodona.”
The king said nothing and Sava wondered if he was even aware of Dodona’s existence.
“Noble king, this woman saved my life. I ask that you accept this gold armlet in exchange for her freedom. I cannot in good conscience leave her here without helping her. A life for a life.”
Sava handed the king an exquisitely crafted armlet. Made of thick heavy gold, it twined from elbow to bicep. The head of a lion with lapis lazuli eyes was at the top, the bottom ended in a lion’s tail.
Spargapeithes smiled. “A beautiful piece indeed. I will inform the Bathmaster that Dodona is now a free woman.”
“You have my deepest gratitude Lord. I will await you at the stables.”
Dodona is free. His heart lightened, Sava headed back to the kitchen. Dodona had already come in looking none the worse for wear considering the night before. She was sitting at a trestle table eating a bowl of porridge.
But Sava knew it was only a matter of time before the boukolos narrowed down the list of who had secreted him into the Dionysia. As his bath slave, Dodona would be the prime suspect. Sava walked over whispered in her ear -
“Shhhh. I bought your freedom from Spargapeithes. We are leaving now. Waste no time. Go get your things and meet me at the stables . You will accompany us to Royal Skythia. A delegation of Budini will be there for the war council. They can take you back home.”
“Oh My Lord!” Dodona grasped his hand, kissing it over and over. “May the gods rain blessings upon your head for ever more. May you always walk in the light. May you – “
“Just go. Hurry.”
Feeling relieved that he had been able to help her, Sava sauntered out and headed toward the stables. With the king and his warriors in their party, chances were good the boukolos would not dare attack them on their way out of Agathyrsia, but he would breathe easier once they were well away.
Precious time had already elapsed before King Spargapeithes, Prince Charnabon and their men were ready for departure. Sava was anxious to be away before the boukolos marshaled support from the queen to question him about his presence at the wine god’s Mysteries.
Just as they were mounting up and Sava was breathing a sigh of relief – At last. A herald strode up to King Spargapeithes.
“A party from Sauromatia is here to see you my lord. They claim to bear an important message from King Raymaxos.”
“Bring them here.”
That must be Hahq. Sava felt a great surge of relief. My brother has found me - at last.
As they rode into the Agathyrsi palace courtyard, Yeva took in the mounted assemblage already there. The tall lean Neuri astride their black destriers. The blue-haired Agathyrsi on their pied horses. Then she spotted Brata standing beside his black horse. It was like seeing a beloved friend risen from the dead.
“Sargis! You are alive!” Vaulting off her horse she ran to him.
Sava and Toxaris exchanged a knowing look. Sargis - So that is his real name.
“Oh thank Mata Drakaina! I knew it!” Yeva embraced Brata. “We heard a wild tale, that a lone Sauromatian stole you right off the altar in the Dark House…It is a miracle of the goddess that you lived after what those ennerei did to you, Ruzanna and… Mattahn.”
At mention of Mattahn’s name Yeva’s eyes closed in a hot blur. She found herself staring down a deep well of sadness. Her eyes met Brata’s pained earthborn eyes and knew that he suffered too, reliving those agonizing moments along with her.
Pulling away she glanced around. “Where is he – this courageous warrior - Sava?”
Sargis’ chin pointed at Sava standing nearby. Yeva approached him, the light of adoration in her eyes.
“I salute you Sava. You are the bravest man I have ever met. You defied not only men but the gods themselves to save my cousin Sargis. And he a stranger to you. I bow low before you Sava.”
Sava is the bravest man she ever met? Hahq had never expected to hear that.
Kneeling, Yeva reverently kissed one of Sava’s boots, then the other. “You brought Sargis back to life. I was there. I saw high priest Koldun cut his throat. They collected his blood and poured it over the Sword in the Stone. We all thought Sargis’ spirit had flown to join Prince Kanxa in the Other World. But you have brought noble Sargis back to us. Back to the Living.” Her voice broke and she sobbed out – “Thank you Sava, thank you.”
Sava touched the top of her head and she rose, hot tears of joy and gratitude rolling down her cheeks.
“Aye Sargis has returned from the Dark House a new man. He is called Brata now. And he is a true brother. But tell me, how is it that you were there, in the Dark House?” Sava asked.
She nodded. “I took part in the ritual as a priestess of Velesh. When I saw what they were doing to Sargis and Mattahn, I tried to stop it.”
Taking a pained breath she turned to Sargis. “I am sorry for what the priests did to you.” She indicated the deep weal across his throat. “I have renounced Velesh and left Melanchaenia. Forever.”
Hahq dismounted and embraced Sava. “It is good to see you again, my Brother.”
Brother - How long have I waited to hear Hahq say that word. Sava’s heart was filled.
“But you should know that the Black Cloaks plotted to sacrifice Voron and I in revenge for your theft of this man…Sargis. Your `noble deed’ nearly got us killed and destroyed our mission to bring the tribes together for the war council.” Hahq just could not resist twisting the guilt knife.
Am I jealous of Sava whom I always under estimated, even despised?
“I am sorry for that Hahq. I had to do it.”
“If not for Yeva, my body would be lying in the Black Cloak kurgan today. But I’ll be damned if they could make me into Prince Kanxa’s loyal retainer in Haides.” Hahq grinned.
“How did she save you?”
“She put a sleeping potion in King Vartan’s koumiss. We were able to steal away in the night.”
For the first time Sava looked full into Yeva’s face, then flinched involuntarily. The woman has kako mati eyes. The pupils are elongated like a viper. Is she some ill-omened witch like Medea who saved Jason with her drugs, only to kill his sons later?
His instinctive revulsion was noted by Hahq, who slid an arm across Yeva’s shoulders and pulled her into his side.
“She is a good witch.” Hahq’s smile was wry. “And she is under my protection.”
&nb
sp; Sava nodded aware that everyone was watching. The way he treated the girl would affect how the others viewed her.
“I am indebted to you, Yeva, for saving my brother and his friends. We ride now for Royal Skythia. Will you come with us?” Sava turned to Hahq.
“We have already spoken with the Androphagi and the Black Cloaks. They are coming to the council. What tribes did you contact?” Hahq asked.
“We saw the Geloni, Tauri, Neuri, Budini and Agathyrsi. All are coming to the council.”
“So our work is done then. We will ride with you to Royal Skythia.” Hahq agreed.
In Sava’s mind it did not hurt that their group now numbered some 40 warriors. Let the Boukolos try to attack us now.
Later, as they traveled along the way to Royal Skythia, Sava pulled his horse up to Hahq and spoke hushed tones:
“Are you going to tell Skopasis the truth about Brata?”
Hahq said nothing for a few moments. “I have to tell him. Skopasis needs to know everything that could affect the war council. And King Vartan is sure to bring up your theft from their kurgan at the council. But, I usually report to Skopasis late in the night when no one is around. The war council will be held the next morning after we arrive. He probably won’t insist on sending Brata back to the Black Cloaks until after the tribes vote for the alliance.”
“Ah.” Sava nodded. “Do you think the Black Cloaks will join the alliance?”
“Hard to say. But based on the reception I got, I have my doubts. If King Vartan refuses to join the alliance then Skopasis will not be under as much pressure to send Brata back.“
Sava knew then what he had to do – As soon as we arrive I will ask Skopasis to take Brata under his protection as our guest.
Even though that meant he would have to withhold the truth from Skopasis about Brata. He hated to do it, but once Skopasis accepted Brata as his guest, the Sauromatian code of guest protection would make it much more difficult to send him back to certain death. But Sava held no illusions as to the final end result. In time of war, Skopasis’ first and foremost allegiance was to his people, not a guest.
After a time Sava brought his horse up next to King Spargapeithes – “Who is that stone face on the cliff overlooking the river? Is he an ancient hero? A mighty king of yore? The god Sabazius?”
Spargapeithes shook his head. A faraway gleam entered his sky blue eyes.
“No one knows young Sava. That face is a mystery. Legend says that stone head was already there when we came to Agathyrsia long ago. We call it the Riverman - `He Who Watches the River of Life Go By’. It is said the Sons of Man carved that face into the cliff as a reminder of the Spirit of Man – Like water, no one knows from whence our spirits came. Like wind - no one knows where our spirits go.”
“Who were the Sons of Man? Why did they fall? There are so many stories. So many gods.”
“The real question young Sava is who are WE? We live as blind men wandering a desert. We are descended from a magnificent legacy, yet we have no memory of it. Following like blind sheep we have fallen into a pit of snakes. Fallen into blind ignorance, into degrading superstition and bloodthirsty cruelty. We are The Fallen.”
“We pass by those monuments built by the Sons of Man, reminders of a Golden Age long past. For a few inspired moments we are struck with wonder… If only the stones could speak! We sense some element of the Great Mystery. Its presence hovers, captured in stone, sparking some deeply hidden memory of a past more vast than the mind can imagine…But then the feeling passes and we forget again…” Spargapeithes shook his head and looked away.
“Drink not from the River of Forgetfulness. Drink instead from the Fountain of Remembrance.” Sava intoned as a vivid image of the Nekromanteion in Gelonus flashed through his mind.
Every night sitting around the campfire on the way to Royal Skythia they discussed one subject above all – Strategy. How could a group of disparate, in-fighting, outnumbered tribesmen defeat an organized army of 700,000?
On this night, King Spargapeithes rose and stood before the snapping firelight. His blue cape embroidered with golden gryphons swirled around his legs, given life by the red flames. The spiraling blue tattoos on the king’s brawny arms writhed in the rosy darklight.
“Hear me now, my friends. Be not too impressed with the sheer size of Darius’ army. This is not the first time Persia has tried to conquer Skythia. Before Darius, King Cyrus, whom Persians call The Great also tried to conquer Skythian lands. But Cyrus failed.”
“Oh?” The Neuri voivode Spartak lifted a black brow. “Tell us about this Honored Spargapeithes.”
“Know this, O Friends, King Darius needs glorious conquests to prove his claim to the Persian throne. Darius’ father was no king, merely a nobleman in King Cyrus’ court. Darius took the crown. When he did that, eight vassal kingdoms rebelled against his rule. He crushed them all and crucified their leaders.”
“Darius’ claim to the throne is through his wife, Atossa. She is Cyrus’ daughter.” Spargapeithes said, staring at the fire with blind eyes. “It was King Cyrus who conquered the great Persian empire. But Cyrus made a fatal mistake when he attacked the Massagetae whose lands border northern Persia at the River Araxes.”
Spargapeithes gazed around at the rapt faces ringing the firelight. “Now Darius is trying to prove that he is greater than Cyrus, because he will do what Great King Cyrus could not.”
“Who are the Massagetae?” Borna asked.
“The Massagetae are Skythians who worship only one god, the sun. No people are more fierce than the Massagetae. Their customs are cruel indeed. The Massagetae eat their own parents.”
Chapter 19 - More Blood Than You Can Drink
Give me back my son and
Get out of my country while you can!
If you refuse,
I swear by the Sun our Master,
I will give you more blood
Than you can drink! -
Herodotus, The Histories
“Aye it is an abhorrent practice. When a Massagetae gets old, he is sacrificed to the sun god by his own children, who then cook and eat him. A parent who dies of disease is not eaten and the Massagetae consider this a great tragedy.” King Spargapeithes said.
“Not to eat your mother or father is a tragedy!?” Borna’s lip curled in shocked incredulity.
Spargapeithes nodded. “To kill and eat your parents is a duty of love for the Massagetae. To die by the hand of one who loves you is more honorable than simply wasting away of old age. The Massagetae believe that by eating them, their parents’ spirits are carried on in their own bodies.”
“To kill and eat my mother? My father?” Sava hissed a breath. “The very thought eats a hole in my heart.”
“So how did the Massagetae defeat King Cyrus?” Voivode Spartak asked.
“The king of the Massagetae died so his queen, Tomyris, came to rule. At first Cyrus tried to trick Tomyris to gain control of her lands. He sent Tomyris a proposal for marriage, but she refused. So Cyrus devised another plan, but to do this, he had to sacrifice one third of his own army.”
“Sacrifice a third of his own men? A waste. Persian warriors are only slaves then. Not free men like us.“ Sava said.
“Actually the Greeks and Romans are bigger slavers than the Persians. By law the Persian king is not allowed to keep slaves.” Spargapeithes said. “But the Persians do place a lesser value on soldiers from vassal nations, of which they have many thousands. It was these men, along with the weak and the sick that King Cyrus decided to sacrifice. So he took his army across the Araxes River and invaded Massagetae lands.”
“Now Cyrus knew that the Massagetae are nomads who live on a plain diet of meat and milk. So he had a lavish feast prepared – all kinds of delicacies and wine, plenty of strong, drugged wine. Then Cyrus left one third of his army stranded there, while he moved the rest of his warriors back across the Araxes River.” Spargapeithes continued.
“When the Massagetae saw this, they fell upon the a
bandoned soldiers and slaughtered them. Flush with victory, they sat down to the delicious banquet and gorged themselves on the rich food and wine until they fell into a drunken stupor. That night Cyrus crossed back over the river with the rest of his army. He slaughtered the drunken, sleeping Massagetae and took the queen’s son, Spargapises, prisoner.”
“So many good men sacrificed for one false victory.” Toxaris shook her head. “A sin.”
“All Cyrus cared about was expanding his empire and covering himself with glory.” Spargapeithes said. “When Queen Tomyris heard of this disaster, she sent him a message” –
`Oh Great King Cyrus - Glutton as you are for blood, you have no cause to be proud of this day’s work. For it has no smack of warrior courage. Your weapon was the fruit of the vine, with which you fill yourselves until you are mad.’
`Wine is the poison you treacherously used to get my son into your clutches. Give me back my son and get out of my country while you can. If you refuse, I swear by the Sun our master, I will give you more blood than you can drink!’
Sparks shot up into the starlit sky as Spargapeithes paused, gazing at the avid faces around the fire circle.
“So how did Cyrus answer Tomyris?” Toxaris asked.
“Cyrus just laughed. No Persian king would ever retreat at the threat of a woman. What Cyrus did not know was that he had destroyed less than half the Massagetae army, the rest remained in reserve.”
“Then the queen’s son, Prince Spargapises, begged Darius to have his fetters removed. Cyrus granted his request, but as soon as Spargapises had the use of his hands, he grabbed a dagger from a guard and killed himself. This news infuriated the Massagetae even more. The two sides lined up for battle. It is said that this was the greatest battle ever fought to that time.”
For a long moment King Spargapeithes’ eyes turned inward, as if seeing far far away… “First both armies stood back and shot arrows at each other until all their arrows were used up. Then the two sides closed. The battle raged back and forth. First the Massagetae gave ground, then the Persians. In the end, Great King Cyrus’ army was devastated and he was killed.”
Wine God's Sorcery: The Horse Lords Page 10
