Kallista

by David Bell

  These were taller, lighter boned, flatter in the face: good for hunting deer, or pulling that light chariot. The nearside mare eyed him as he approached, and tossed her head. He ran his hand softly along her flank and over her back, put his mouth close to her ear and whispered. She went still. With his hand on her muzzle, he stepped round to her partner, a younger mare, possibly her foal, and said words to her that Sekara could not understand. The two soft noses nuzzled the hand he held below them, taking its scent. Soldiers stared in disbelief, muttering to each other, and were brusquely silenced by the Captain of Archers.

  “I thought they were mine. They seem to be yours,” said Sekara.

  Kanesh walked round the chariot, inspecting it closely. The horses turned their heads, trying to keep him in view. He said, as if to himself, but loud enough for Sekara to hear, “Two-man chariot; driver and archer, or javelin man, judging from the size of the quiver; six spokes to the wheel, gives a more even ride; axle well back, lets the pole bend and makes her springier; wheels wide apart, should turn well at speed without over-balancing.” He looked at Sekara. “Hickshasus use this kind for harassing and raiding. You need a heavier frame, centre axle to lessen the drag on the horses, bigger wheels, if you want to charge along a line. This one is for parade, perhaps the hunt, if all the paintwork, gilt and fancy fretwork are anything to go by.

  “And a heavier horse. We have none at present.”

  “Do you see a need? Where would an enemy land a force large enough for you to need a heavy chariot squadron to engage it?”

  “It merits consideration, nevertheless. What would you suggest?”

  “A light, fast troop for scouting, skirmishing, hit and run; a squadron of three-man chariots, drivers, shield and javelin men for close-up defence, and archers to be dropped close enough to strike and then be lifted out smartly if they get into trouble. You must hope that there is no urgency because to bring such a force into being will take a great deal of time and be very expensive. You have no tradition of horsemanship here. You may have to consider mercenaries.”

  “And you come from a land with such a tradition. Perhaps we may come back to that when we have our discussion. The mares seem to be at ease with you. Let us see how they behave on the way to the Palace. Captain, you will attend us in my quarters.”

  Kanesh took the reins and Sekara jumped up lightly beside him. A soft word, and the horses walked; a gentle twitch on one rein, and the lead mare turned until the chariot was facing down slope towards the road. Kanesh took the slope slowly, getting the feel of the chariot and the mood of the horses, then on the flat he flicked the rein on the back of the lead mare and she quickened the pace to a trot. The chariot rode well with little jarring and the horses seemed to be enjoying their run. The light was fading quickly as they passed the temple of Eleitheia; lamps were burning dimly on the altars, blinking out briefly as shadowy robed figures moved past them. Sekara pointed and Kanesh turned the horses onto the road which climbed up the hill. Daylight was done now and the moon rose silver above the sea, bright enough to show every turn in the road as it snaked upwards past fields and farms and the dark masses of olive groves. High on the hill, the great buildings began to sparkle with lights as lamps and braziers were lit. Sekara felt that rare sensation of floating as if in a boat, and knew that Kanesh was controlling the pace exactly to fit the surface they were travelling on. It seemed as if only an instant of time had passed before the chariot drew up at one side of a great ramp that rose between two tall colonnaded buildings, lit by rows of torches. Driver and passenger stepped down from the riding platform as two grooms ran up with blankets to cover the horses. Kanesh felt their backs and bellies carefully whispering to them as he did so. They had a sweat on, but a light and healthy one, and they were hardly blowing at all. After Sekara had issued instructions for the night, the grooms led them away.

  “My quarters are over there,” said Sekara pointing towards a house with lights in the windows and steps rising towards a high entrance porch where two spearmen stood at attention on either side of the closed door. The doors opened as they drew near and an old but upright man strode to the top of the stairway and raised his arm in salute. “My orderly,” said Sekara. “And my bodyguard when I entered the service of the Palace. He was with Koreta at Gaiduros. He is afraid of no one.”

  “Ektan, this lord has journeyed far to see the Commander. He needs rest, bath, a little time to collect his thoughts.”

  “I know all of that,” said the stern old man. “The boys have prepared the water and his cloak and tunic will be cleaned.” He looked his master up and down and made a faint clicking sound of disapproval with his tongue against his teeth. “I have laid out my Lord’s own robe, the blue one.”

  “Master Ektan, I am grateful,” said Kanesh.

  The old man started slightly and peered keenly at Kanesh. For a moment he looked puzzled as if searching for a memory of that voice. Kanesh returned the look impassively, then raised one eyebrow slightly. The old soldier recovered himself, bowed almost imperceptibly and led the way into the house. The hall was long, with a staircase of dark wood at the far end and windows in every wall. Apart from a frieze of painted spirals running round the room near the ceiling, the walls were bare. Beeswax lamps burned on short stone pedestals in the corners. There were no other furnishings. Sekara made his excuses and made his way up the staircase. Ektan held open a door for Kanesh, saying that should he have need of anything he should sound the gong which he would find on the table near the window. Kanesh saw the scars of old sword wounds on his arm before his sleeve covered them again. Left alone Kanesh looked round the sparsely furnished room and then went to the window. It opened towards the coast.

  Faint solitary lights dotted the landscape and clusters of them in the distance marked where the harbours and town lay. The moon rode high in the night sky scattering its light on slowly drifting clouds and quiet sea alike. Kanesh walked across towards an alcove, dropping his clothes as he went but keeping the sword and sword belt in his hand. He went through the alcove, down some shallow steps and found a large, high-sided bathtub surrounded by jars of steaming water. He sat in the tub while the boys smeared his upper body with soft soap made from wood ash, olive oil and the grease from sheep wool, and washed it away with streams of warm water from the jugs. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the proffered rough towel round his waist. The water was emptied down a drain in the floor and the tub cleaned and refilled as he watched. He settled into the fresh water and sent the boys out. He lay back, letting the water ease the ache in his leg and going over in his mind what he should, and should not, say to Sekara when they were together after the meeting with the Commander. The boys returned with fresh warm towels. He declined their offer of massage with olive oil and herbs and carrying the sword belt in one hand, returned to the room where he had left his clothes. They lay, cleaned, dried and brushed ready for use, on the table by the window.

  There was a firm knock on the door and Ektan entered to announce that Lord Sekara requested his presence. As Kanesh made to move, the old man spoke.

  “Permission to ask, sir, but I hear that you are privileged to know the Lord Koreta.”

  “I am; and Captain Potyr.”

  “For some time, sir?”

  “For quite some time.”

  Ektan stood to attention and saluted. His expression seemed to say that what had puzzled him before no longer did so.

  Preceded by two guards carrying fluttering torches, they walked up the cobbled ramp and entered a wide corridor between painted colonnades. This led into a great courtyard paved with polished stone slabs that gleamed in the bright moonlight. Kanesh looked up to the sky, seeking the Sailors’ Star to give him sense of direction. All round the courtyard were porticos and colonnades, cloisters with shadowed walks, and staircases leading to upper levels where the dim light of lamps within outlined windows open to the night air. From one of them came the faint notes of a lyre, the only sound to be heard. The Sailors’ Sta
r was behind them when they came to the end of the courtyard and entered another corridor, lit by lamps held in brackets on the walls. They passed paintings of sacred animals; bulls, lions, snakes and gryphons, half hidden in the flickering light of the guards’ torches. They turned again, entering another corridor with blank walls, and again in a different direction, their feet echoing in the narrow space. Suddenly, they emerged into a small courtyard with a gateway at the opposite end. The moon illuminated their way and the Sailors’ Star was on their right. On the other side of the gateway was a flight of stone stairs descending to their left. They went halfway down and stopped at the pillared entrance of a large house where two guards armed with lances stood before high double doors. One of the guards opened the doors and they entered a long warmly lit room with a marble staircase at one end and a light well in the centre through which the moon cast down its cool light. A uniformed steward led them up the staircase into another hall at the end of which in front of a wide window was a man dressed in a white robe sitting at a long alabaster table. Two scribes were working on their tablets at the ends of the table. The man looked up and signalled them to approach, simultaneously dismissing the scribes who rose from their work and stepped back into the shadows behind him.

  “Commander, I present the emissary of Lord Koreta, Governor of Kallista.”

  There was a long pause while tired eyes slowly took in Kanesh’s clothes, the sword, his beard and finally the pouch that Sekara had put into his hand a moment before they entered the Commander’s presence.

  “Then he is doubly welcome. Sir?”

  “I am Kanesh.” He stepped forward and placed the pouch on the table. The Commander turned over the seal which had the Governor’s stamp on it, and raised a hand. One of the scribes came to the table, opened the pouch and took out the tablets. He began to read the first one, running his finger over the pressed marks.

  “You will forgive my not rising to receive you in a way fitting your status; age brings few advantages other than the indulgence of others, and news of old friends; good news, I hope, of Koreta?”

  “As good as can be expected, but not as good as one would hope.”

  “The Lady Mother preserve him a little longer.”

  The scribe had finished his task and at another signal from the Commander bent close to his ear and began to give his reading of Koreta’s despatches in tones too low for the others to hear. The Commander stopped him.

  “Speak out, man, and take care to speak true. I expect these lords will know where to correct you, and how, should you make an error.” The tired eyes regarding Kanesh and Sekara still had a little spark left in them.

  The scribe, now rather unnerved, read haltingly and on the third tablet stopped and whispered to the Commander.

  “He says Lord Koreta’s scribe has altered some of the signs and he is not sure of the new meaning. These fellows are always carping about one another’s script, as if their own had been pressed by the Lady Atania herself.”

  “May I be permitted?” said Sekara. The Commander nodded. Sekara looked hard at the tablet, as if he had never seen it before.

  “The Governor’s scribe has started with the word chariot and then tried to change it to our guest’s name with which he is unfamiliar.”

  “It does have a distant sound. No matter, let the scribe continue.”

  After a little more polite conversation in which he was assured that as a protected guest of the Palace he would receive all the assistance he needed, Kanesh took his leave of the Commander who excused himself for keeping Lord Sekara back briefly concerning a private matter.

  “Your assessment, Sekara? Is he to be trusted? We know next to nothing about him.”

  “Koreta trusts him and he will have given Koreta his word. You have seen the sword. You have seen the manner in which he conducts himself. I have confidence in him. And, we should not forget that the enterprise, if successful, will bring more than profit: it will bring added security to Keftiu. Do we need to…”

  “No, no, no; I will speak to the Palace, as and when there is need. You will keep me informed, of course. May the Lady Mother grant you peace and rest this night.”

  Back in Sekara’s quarters, Kanesh asked him how long it had been before he could find his way, in the dark if necessary, through all the rooms, squares and corridors of the Palace. The deputy commander smiled and said that legend was that only the original builder could do that; as for him, he had lived here since his birth, forty summers ago, and there were still more places that he had not seen than those that he had. There were places where no one might go, save the women, the priestesses whom no one might see; no one, that is, except… he stopped and changed the subject. He was not smiling by then.

  Sekara had simple tastes in food and drink. Ektan brought a dish of roast kid with olives and beans for them, some coarse barley cakes and a jug of strong beer. They talked into the night. Sekara had been to the Black Land and knew parts of it well; he had been with one of Rahotep’s scouting troops when they were ambushed by a Hikshusas patrol and got away only because he had a faster horse. He had been to the mines on Alasiya and had sailed out of Gubal. He readily saw the strength of Kanesh’s argument about the supply of tin although he had little knowledge of the actions and policy of the Labarna. In fact he knew almost nothing of the Labarna’s land and probed Kanesh for facts, believing he was being told much less than Kanesh could have revealed, especially now he had seen what Kanesh could do with a chariot. Eventually, they fell silent. Sekara stood up, seized the jug and poured the last drops down his throat. He stared hard at Kanesh.

  “We will do what needs to be done.” He held out his hand and Kanesh grasped it. “Come; back to your ship. We’ll take the horses, not the chariot this time.”

  Each mare had a broad strip of soft leather on her back and a simple leather bridle with reins attached to the noseband. Kanesh climbed a stone mounting block carved in the shape of a seated lion, straddled the younger mare and picked up the reins. Sekara took the older horse and led the way at a walk along a paved road that ran between an amphitheatre with broad stone benches and a towering building with a veranda overlooking a square as big as a parade ground. The road sloped downhill for a while with high, tree-topped walls on each side and then levelled out as it approached a mansion surrounded by gardens and cypress trees and set back from the road. Torches flared at a gateway and soft lights shone in the windows. “Commander’s mansion,” said Sekara as they passed by. “And guest house for the Palace when he goes to his estate near Setujia in the summer.” The road turned to head towards the coast. In the distance was a cluster of lights, and the Sailors’ Star stood high and almost directly before them. They urged the horses to a trot and then, as they reached the plain, to a canter. Kanesh saw nothing of the farms, olive groves and vineyards they passed and did not hear the sound of the horses’ hooves on the flagstones. The warmth of the horse’s back beneath him, the touch of the reins held lightly in one hand and the wind on his face carried his mind away in time and far beyond the horizon. How they had raced, for pleasure in the summer days, and then for their lives all through that freezing night. He turned in the saddle and saw the mountains rising in the distance, their lower slopes dark as blindness, but their icy summits silver in the moonlight. To ride through mountain passes again, and let the horses graze in the high meadows while the wine cooled in a brook: could that ever be again?

  There were more houses on each side. Dogs barked and chased them briefly. Smells of smoke and cattle dung, of fish stew simmering somewhere on a kitchen hearth, of thyme and sage and rancid fat came and went. An angry voice yelled from a window and a clay cup was flung after them, shattering against a wall. The buildings were larger now and there was the smell of the sea. They dismounted and led the horses along a narrow winding street of houses, workshops and boatsheds until they reached a stretch of roughly cobbled road at the head of a bay. The moonlight was bright enough for Kanesh to see a long and sharply pointed headland
at one end of the bay and a shorter one jutting out to sea at the other. Ships’ masts clustered at the edges of each headland and other ships lay anchored offshore. Sekara led them in the direction of the shorter headland. They passed one ship after another hauled up on the beach. Here and there a fire burned on the shingle with one the ship’s crew huddled in front of it, roasting a fish on a stick over the embers, while his mates lay snoring under rough blankets. The town port: even at night it was full of movement. Boats were sculled between the anchored ships and the occasional cart rumbled along the cobbled road, its driver dozing over the plodding draught cattle. People came and went, along the road or the beach, into and out of the houses, some purposeful and others furtive, carrying their boxes and baskets and their sacks slung over their shoulders. Some warehouses stood silent, dark and locked, while others lit by oil lamps sounded to the work of storemen shifting barrels and jars and stacking timber and ingots. They passed a tall emaciated man wearing nothing but a loincloth who stared out to sea, pointing with a skinny arm and repeating over and over the name of the Lady Mother. A man rushed out of an alley and ran along the road, pursued by another brandishing a dagger. A woman in an upper window thrust her breasts at them and beckoned them inside; in the tavern below her, men stamped their feet and shouted to the sound of a drum and twin pipes. The noise and sudden movements made the horses nervous and they began to back and shy. Kanesh calmed them with gentle stroking and whispers. They came to the end of a jetty that ran part way along the smaller headland. The Captain of Archers was waiting there with the deputy commander’s guard.

  “You will find your ship here,” said Sekara. “My captain will call on you when we next have business to do.”