Soldier of Arete (20 page)

Io came in, and I asked her whether she had given the woman the money she had promised her after the farmer left.

"Not yet," Io said. "Not until we're ready to go, because we might need something else. Do you remember why we're going, master?"

"To find a man called Hegesistratus, if we can."

Polos asked me, "Do you remember him? What he looks like?"

I shook my head.

"Or why we want to find him?" Polos persisted.

"Because the Rope Makers want to kill him." I asked Io, "Hegesistratus is a friend, isn't he? When I pronounced his name, it seemed a friend's in my mouth."

There was a knock at the door. From the other room, the woman shouted something.

"Raskos!"

Io told me, "Don't open it!" as I drew my sword.

I had to, if I wanted to go on calling myself a man; but I had not time enough to explain that to Io. Sword high, I opened wide the door with my left hand.

There was no one there. The sun had just risen, and long purple shadows fled from every little ridge of wind-driven snow. The footprints of those who had carried the body to the door—and carried it away— were half-filled with snow already; so was the formless depression where the body had lain. There were no newer, fresher tracks.

"Io," I said, "you can speak the way these people do, can't you? A little?"

Io nodded. "It's Thracian, master—we're in Thrace. I've picked up a bit, and Polos knows it."

I said, "Then, Polos, you must warn the woman that Raskos may come back. Do you understand me? If he does, she mustn't open the door. She must tell him, through the door, that he is dead."

Polos nodded solemnly.

"The snow's fallen since he died, I think, and changed the landmarks he knew. Snow's something one usually finds only high up on mountains, so if he comes again before it melts, she must tell him— without opening the door—exactly how he can reach the spot where his body will be burned."

When Polos had spoken with the woman as I told him and Io had given her a coin, we rode off. "Just before that happened"—Polos jerked his head to indicate the farmhouse—"I was going to tell you I thought you ought to ride the white one. You rode him when you fought King Kotys, and I don't believe he'll give you any more trouble."

I shook my head. "He had a hard day, yesterday, I imagine. Didn't I ride him a long way, Io?"

She nodded. "A very long way, master. We were both really tired when we stopped here, and so were the horses." Each of us was riding one and leading another.

Polos asked, "What if somebody wants to fight with us?"

"Then I'll get on him," I promised. "And he'll be better rested for not being ridden now."

Polos looked from me to the big white stallion, considering. "You
are
heavy."

"Of course I am, and I'm wearing a sword and mail."

"Oeobazus has a sword with a gold hilt, but I think yours must be better."

I asked who Oeobazus was.

Io told me, "The Mede we made the king free. Really, you made him, mostly. You've been keeping up your new book really well, so there ought to be a lot about it there. But probably you shouldn't try to read it while we're riding, especially in this wind."

"All right," I said, "I won't."

Polos asked, "Sometime will you show me how to fight with a sword?"

"You've seen him," Io said. "I know you were watching us the last time. You saw what my master did."

"I was watching," Polos admitted, looking at me. "I saw what he did, but I don't know how he did it. Four men came at him together, and I thought he'd be killed, but he killed them, one after another. There can't be many swordsmen like him."

I had to confess that I no longer recalled the incident he described.

"But you know how to do it. What would you do if you were faced with four together?"

"Get away," I told him, "if I could."

"But if you couldn't?"

I turned the problem over in my mind, seeing soldiers with spears and swords who were not actually there, but who had once, perhaps, stood before me in that way. "Determine which is the leader, if you can," I told Polos. "One is always the leader when there are four, the one the rest would be ashamed to have see them run. It's very likely that there aren't really four trying to kill you. One is trying to kill you, and three are trying to help him. Disable him at once, if you can. Killing him is good, of course; but a deep cut in his sword arm or his leg may be just as good."

We stopped at a solitary house; Polos talked to the people there and told me that they said they had seen no strangers, and that he felt they were telling the truth. I spoke loudly: "They haven't seen Hegesistratus?" I did it hoping that Hegesistratus would hear me and know my voice, but no one answered.

On the road again, I said, "Your sword must be a part of you, Polos. Do you understand that?"

He nodded. "But when I held your sword last night, it didn't want to be."

"Falcata's too heavy for you," I told him, "and you haven't handled her nearly enough. It's good to have a good sword, but it's better to know the sword you have and keep it sharp. Some scabbards dull the blade, because they're lined with hard wood; some of them even have bronze where it rubs the sharp part of the blade. If you've got a scabbard like that, sell it and get another—only leather or wool should touch the edge."

Polos nodded; I could see he was thinking about what I had said.

"And yet you must always remember that it isn't the best sword that wins, but the best swordsman."

A man carrying two javelins was walking some distance ahead of us—a man who, as nearly as I could judge, left behind him no tracks. I asked Polos about horses, knowing them a subject that would occupy Io as well, and learned much.

TWENTY-ONE

The Strategist from Rope

A LEADER OF THE INVINCIBLE armies of the Silent Country demands that the Apsinthians hand over to him any foreigners they hold—so the wounded peltast told Badizoe, and the villagers beg us to go before it becomes known in Cobrys that we are here. They beg us, I say; but they dare not make us go. They fear us too much, though we are only myself, the two women, and the children. All their fighting men are gone, having been summoned to the city a few days ago.

Badizoe came to tell me that she had made use of their fear to get news as well as this food; I asked what she had learned, and called Io here to hear it. Io says it is more than we found out from Cleton, but not very much different. We asked Badizoe how the villagers came to know these things, and she said that a man wounded in yesterday's fighting has been permitted to return to the village. When she heard of it, she made these women take her to him. Elata goes with her, speaking first as one nation, then as the other. Here is what she says he said.

King Kotys is dead. He challenged a Hellene but fled him. When his nobles saw it, they cut him down, though others sought to save him. Thamyris and those who tried to save the king have barricaded the palace.

While the rest planned their assault, the strategist from Rope made port. He has the lambda of Rope upon his hoplon and wears a scarlet cloak. With him are shieidmen from Pylos. He told the lords that if they do not do as he says, it will not matter who is king in Cobrys— he will return with an army and burn the city. He spoke with the Thracian lords outside, where the wounded peltast overheard him, then went into the palace.

We are going now. Badizoe wants to find her queen and the rest of the Amazons, and Elata to find Hegesistratus the mantis. Io thinks it would be best for us to go with them, and so do I.

Everyone is asleep save for the boy from Susa. All fire is holy to him; often he prays to this one, but at times he wanders beyond the firelight searching for a place to rest. There is surely something wrong with him; I doubt that I have ever met a boy before—or anyone not wounded— who could not rest. I think that Polos knows what is wrong, but Polos will not tell me. The boy's name is Artembares.

I have been reading in this how a litter was constructed for Pharetra and slung between two horses. I cannot remember Pharetra, but when I read her name, I seem to feel her hand touch mine; surely she was lithe and lovely beneath her fiery hair. I know I loved her, even though I have forgotten her.

The gods own this world, not we. We are but landless men, even the most powerful king. The gods permit us to till their fields, then take our crop. We meet and love, someone builds a tomb for us, perhaps. It does not matter—someone else will rob it, and the winds puff away our dust; then we shall be forgotten. For me it is no different, only faster; but I have written in my scroll how Pharetra smiled at me. For as long as the papyrus is preserved she will be here, though even little Io is only brown dust sobbing down the night wind with all the rest.

But having read it, I know that for my own sake tomorrow I must write what I recall now: how we came to the new village and took their wine and the pig, then camped here, far away, because we feared their numbers, though we could not let them see that. I was tired and cold, and drank deeper than I should, perhaps; and Elata more deeply still. Then Badizoe and Io were afraid I would violate her while she slept— as I would have, if only they had not been there, and Polos watching. As things were, I was extremely angry with them both. I could have killed them, but I was neither so angry nor so drunk as that, and if I had struck Io, Badizoe would have drawn her sword; then I would certainly have killed her. I lay down, pretending to sleep; but the pretense was quickly real.

When I woke, Io and Badizoe slept, too. I tried to awaken Elata by kissing her, and with such caresses as men give women; but each time she stirred it made the hills uneasy. I heard our horses speaking as one man speaks to another; and though I lose so much, I have not forgotten that horses cannot speak; and so I let Elata sleep on, and began to read, as I have said.

But first I heaped what wood we had left on the coals and, discovering a dead tree, lopped its limbs with my sword and moved Elata away from the fire so that she would not be scorched while she slept.

It may have been the brightness of the flames that brought the boy. He asked if he might warm himself, and I, seeing that he was alone and harmless, said he might. When he had watched me reading for some time, he said, "I know you don't worship the way we do—you say that Hephaistos is the god of fire, and he's not even one of your greatest gods. But do you object if other people believe something else?"

I said, "That depends on what they believe, I suppose." We were both keeping our voices low so as not to awaken those who slept. "You're from Parsa, aren't you? I know that you people pray to Ahura Mazda by building fires on your mountaintops, and I have no objection to that."

He smiled; it was not until he did that I saw how sad his face was. Then he abased himself before the fire in the eastern way and spoke to his god in a tongue I do not know.

By the time he had finished, my eyes were smarting. I laid down this scroll and asked if he was lost.

He nodded. "That was why I got on the ship. You were on it, then Hegesistratus came aboard, too, so I thought perhaps it would take me to Susa. You must have visited our country. Have you ever been to Susa?"

"I can't remember," I told him. "I forget a great deal."

He moved closer, fearful, it seemed, that he would wake Io, although she slept on. "So do I. No, I can remember a lot, but I can never remember anything important. Is that how it is with you?"

"No," I said. "I can remember only a few things—how Polos and Io drove the pig, for example; that's Io beside you, and him on the other side of her. He gathered those pine boughs to make them a bed. Nothing important, as you say. I've been reading this to find out how I came to be here, and I've learned that I came to find Oeobazus, a Mede; but he's not with us now. Do you know him?"

"Certainly I know him," the boy said. "You asked me about him once before, and you and the other barbarian asked my father about him when we were in the tower. Have you forgotten that?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I'm afraid I have."

"You didn't ask my father that time, really. It was the other barbarian, the short one. Do you remember how you tried to free us?"

I told him I was sorry to learn I had not succeeded.

"There were guards with us in that room in the tower. One heard a noise and went to see what it was. He never came back, and when the other went to look for him, you came in. You had cloaks and helmets, and you wanted us to put them on. You said that once we were outside the citadel we could hide in the city till the barbarians sailed away. But my father said the people there—I don't remember the name of that city."

"Neither do I," I told him. "Go on."

"That they might—would hurt us if they found us. And he said Yellow Horse would look everywhere for us because he had promised him so much for our freedom. He thought Yellow Horse was going to accept the money and let us go. My father's very rich." The boy tried to look modest. "He'll reward you, I'm sure, if you take me to him."

"So you wouldn't come with me? What happened then?"

"Nothing." The boy fell silent, staring into the flames. "You left, more soldiers came, and we went to sleep. Will you come back to the ship with me?"

"What ship?" I asked.

"The one you were on before—you and the little girl and the peri."

I do not know what that word means, but he glanced toward Elata when he said it. I said that I did not think I could go back to the ship with him until we had found Oeobazus.

"He's over there," the boy said, and pointed.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"The same way I knew where he was when you asked me before. Don't you remember? You wanted to know where he was, and I told you he was riding a horse, with his hands tied."

Polos sat up then. I told him I was sorry we had awakened him, that we had tried to talk quietly.

He said politely, "You didn't wake me up. I was thirsty."

I began, "This is—"

"Artembares the son of Artayctes," the boy from Susa told me. He is older than Polos, and at least a head taller, I would think.