An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Ten THESSALIA

At first I meant to end my book here, as Eumenes' letter severed my official tie to Aristoteles and to the elephant. True, I saw Aias years later at the Macedonian court, and he remembered me and hugged me with his trunk. But I was no longer responsible for him thenceforth.

The rest of my life's history, while full enough of lively adventures, is that of a mere private man, not of the agent of the greatest king of his age on a strange and wonderful mission. Whereas that mission was now completed, this seemed a likely place to rein in my galloping pen.

Howsomever, when I read the manuscript to an audience of my friends and my children, they set up an outcry that I should go on, tell what betided next, and explain how I came to be where and what I now am. And so, for a short space, I continue my tale.

Time flew. The month of Pyanepsion had come, the weather had cooled, and the mountains stood brown from the summer's drouth, when one of Aristoteles' slaves, Pyrraios, brought a strange talc from Peiraieus. Harpalos, Alexander's treasurer, had suddenly appeared at the tip of the Paralian peninsula with thirty warships bristling with soldiers. All but one of these ships anchored in the lee of Sounion Promontory. The men went ashore, set up a rude fortification, and rested.

Meanwhile Harpalos came on to Peiraieus with a single ship and urged the Athenians to let his whole fleet into the principal harbor. He held a shouted conference with Philokles, the Athenian general in command of Fort Eëtoneia, Harpalos standing on the forecastle of his ship and Philokles on one of the chain towers of the sea gate.

"Are you here as King Alexander's man?" said Philokles.

Harpalos shouted back: "Nay. I am my own master."

"Then what do you want with us? We don't let strange war fleets into our harbor."

"I have come to save you from Alexander's insatiable ambition!"

"We are at peace with Alexander. If you have aught to say to the people of Athens, say it through proper channels."

"Let me in, ere it be too late! The Alexander is returning from India, burning to reduce Athens to slavery."

"Begone or I'll open on you with the catapults!"

The argument went on all day. Philokles sent a runner to Athens for advice. The prytaneis called the generals and politicians to a hurried consultation. Demosthenes advised against admitting Harpalos and persuaded the rest. So in the end Harpalos had to row away, as the chain was up and he could not enter the harbor without a fight.

The market place seethed with the excitement of the volatile Athenians, each asking the other what this visitation meant and shouting in a thousand voices for war, peace, attack, defense, retreat, surrender, alliance, isolation, and any other policies that the mind of man could conceive. After I had spent a while there, picking up wild and contradictory rumors, I went to see Alexander's resident minister Amyntas. Although I was no longer a servant of the king, Amyntas had kept on a friendly footing with me, no doubt in hope of another bribe. He told me:

"I had not expected the Harpalos to come here, but it does not astonish me. I have had letters lately from the king himself. Alexander is returning from India. He had passed through the deadly deserts of Gedrosia and is now in Persia. He has already begun to chop off the heads of governors who proved unworthy. No doubt Harpalos got word of this, too, and fled while his head was still affixed to his body."

Next day it became known that Harpalos' fleet had rowed away. The excitement died, save for speculation as to whither Harpalos had gone: to Syracuse, Carthage, or even farther.

Half a month later, as the season's first rain drizzled down upon Athens, word came by a trading ship that Harpalos had not gone far. He coasted south and west until he turned the promontory of Tainaron, the middlemost of the three prongs of Lakedaimonia. He rounded the promontory and beached at the village of Tainaron. As the peninsula is rocky and sparsely settled, it was unlikely the Spartans could expel him. The Spartan spirit had been broken at Megalopolis, when King Agis fell before Antipatros' Macedonians, even as had the Athenian spirit at Chaironeia.

Now veered the winds of politics in Athens. Several leaders who had loudly demanded that Harpalos be kept off the sacred soil of Attika began speaking well of the man. Some argued that nought had been proved against him; some said any foe of Alexander was a friend of Athens.

I asked Aristoteles about this, one evening as we were walking home from the Lykeion with Theophrastos, Vardanas, some other members of the faculty, and our servants. Ordinarily I should have ridden the distance. But Aristoteles was a great walker, so that, if one wanted an extra half-hour of his company, one had to walk, too. He said:

"Harpalos has let it be known that he possesses thousands of talents, and that his friends in Athens shan't go unrewarded. He has probably sprinkled a few talents amongst them already as bait. If you wish to see what I mean by the tendency of democrathy to degenerate into anarchy, behold our demagogues."

Vardanas said: "Do you remember, Leon, our argument in the wilds of Assyria about democracy? See how Aristoteles supports me in that!"

"What's this?" said Aristoteles. Vardanas gave the gist of his argument against democracy.

"There's something in what you say," said Aristoteles, "but you forget that all other forms of government become corrupted as well. Thus monarchy decays into tyranny, and aristocrathy into oligarchy. However, it takes an exceptional degree of culture and thivic spirit, such as Athens had at her best, to practice democrathy at all. I've never heard of democrathy amongst foreigners."

"It exists," I said. "Some Indian states are democratically ruled, and so are some of the Gandarian tribes."

"Come, my good Leon, that cannot be real democrathy. I can prove that Hellenes are the only folk ..."

Off we went on another argument. We came to the crossing in the Skambonidai where we usually broke up, going to our several dwellings. Instead of parting, however, we stood jabbering while the sun set. In the twilight, a man stepped out of the shadows and said:

"Pardon, gentlemen, but is not one of you Leon of Atrax?"

"I am," I said. I thought the man was a traveler with a letter from home for me. (I had long since delivered, or arranged for delivery of, the letters my comrades-in-arms had entrusted to me in India.) I was reckoning how much to tip him when he drew a dirk and lunged.

Luckily, I was trained in the art of fighting without a shield. Many soldiers, even experienced ones, do not know it. As the man thrust at my breast, I brought my left fist down upon his wrist, knocking his arm aside. The blade ripped my cloak and shirt but did not touch my skin. I struck at his face with my right fist, but he rolled his head so that the blow glanced from his scalp. He drew back his arm for another stab.

I stepped back, starting to whip off my cloak as a shield, while my friends stood in amaze with their mouths open. Then Inaudos, my lusty manservant, seized my attacker from behind. They scuffled for the space of a couple of heartbeats. The Kordian hurled the stranger to the ground. However, ere anybody could leap upon the latter to pin him, he squirmed free, leaped up, and dashed off, leaving his cloak in Theophrastos' grasp. Vardanas and I gave chase but soon lost him in the dark, winding alleys.

We came back to find Inaudos nursing a bleeding forearm and the others looking over the attacker's dirk and wallet.

"Did he cut you?" I asked Inaudos. "Let me see."

"He never cut me! Villain bit me!" roared the hillman.

The dirk had nought distinctive about it, but the wallet contained a fistful of shiny new staters. I held one of these up in the fading light and said:

"This looks fresh from the mint at Tarsos."

"Which means," said Theophrastos, "that our assassin was 'ired by 'Arpalos to make way with you. Now why should he do that? I remember 'ow you escaped him, but that's not enough to make him send murderers after you."

"I also reported his misdeeds to Alexander," I said. "I suppose Harpalos heard of this, perhaps through his brother Philippos in India."

Theophrastos said: "It's a shame the fellow is such a scoundrel; 'e really knows something of botany. I've 'ad letters from him about the plants of the East."

"Well," said I, "in any case, my guardian spirit tells me I'd better get along home to Thessalia, ere worse befall. Next time he'll hire a whole gang of ready-for-aughts to screed me."

"Methinks you need not leave so precipitately," said Aristoteles. "We'll take the matter up with the magistrates. Harpalos is unlikely to try another attempt soon. Besides, I haven't finished my notes on the animals of Persia and India."

As Aristoteles seemed to me only a little lower than Zeus himself, I let him talk me into staying on against my better judgment. Looking back, it now seems as though he cared little what became of me or anybody else so long as he collected his scientific data.

I reported the attack to the Board of Eleven, but the magistrates only raised their eyebrows and spoke of the rise of crime that resulted from having so many foreigners in the city. The president of the board said:

"After all, man of Thessalia, nobody knows who your attacker is, and this Harpalos person is out of our jurisdiction. But most important, you are not even a citizen, are you?"

"Nay; I'm a citizen of the Thessalian Federation, and thus a subject of King Alexander."

"Then are you registered as a resident alien?"

"Nay."

"How long have you been in Athens?"

"Since last Thargelion."

"Oh dear me! Then you are liable to arrest, imprisonment, and a fine."

"Say you so?" said I, rising. "What for, fellow?"

"You should have registered and paid the alien tax long ago!"

"Bugger that talk! I'm an officer of King Alexander, at present on inactive duty, but still carried on his rolls. I have a letter at my landlord's house to prove it. So it were better not to speak of imprisonment."

"Oh well, that's different, blessed one. Nevertheless you cannot bring suit save through a patron."

"How does one acquire a patron?"

"Go to the Thessalian consul. He can either act as your patron or find you somebody who will."

So I went to the consul. "Yes," said Epikerdes, "I could act as your patron. It would cost you money, though. The Thessalian assembly doesn't pay me for this, and I'm entitled to a return for time spent representing foreigners."

"How much?"

"Let's say a hundred drachmai as a retainer. Then there'll be your alien registration fee of twelve drachmai, and legal work will of course be more."

I gulped and said: "I'll let you know." I suspected that the consul knew of my discharge bonus and hoped to dig his claws into it.

I went back to Aristoteles, who said: "I fear you waste your time, Leon. What this individual doesn't extract from you, Demosthenes and the other speech writers will."

"Can these Scythian archers do nought?"

"You can try their commander, but I doubt if it will help. Lie's responsible only to the Board of Eleven, and the slave watchmen are good only for patrolling the streets at night and keeping order at meetings and festivals. You'd have to apprehend your attacker yourself."

"An he's still in Attika, I'll find him!"

"Ah, but he's probably far from Attika by now. Even if you caught him, you would still have to prosecute him, and that's no light matter. Nothing is less predictable than an Athenian board of judges. They're nought but common men, chosen by lot, and as stupid and capricious as such people normally are. You'd better abandon this chase, old boy, but go armed henceforth."

Elisas returned to Athens with a pile of Egyptian wares from his voyage. He came to me, purring with success, carrying a bag and a wicker basket with a lid. I asked him for news.

"Very good journey," he said. "Made good profits and paid off Dareios and Pamphylios. We were chased by a pirate ship off Crete, but a warship frightened the pirate away."

"Did you see the pyramids?"

"No, I had no time for sight-seeing—"

The basket gave a sudden yowl. "What in Hera's name have you in there, man?" I asked.

"You leave soon for Thessalia, yes?"

"As things are going, I may. But the basket—"

"When I was in Egypt, I thought, my old friend Leon will want some nice gifts for his family. So I bring some things. Very reasonable prices; hardly any profit to me. Here in the basket is an Egyptian cat, for your mother."

He brought out the animal, which I could see was a high-bred pussy. These creatures are popular with the Athenians, who say they catch mice, but the only cats we have in Thessalia are the wild kind.

"And here are bracelets and other jewelry for the ladies of your house; a fancy walking stick for your father ..."

"Elisas, you'll be the death of me!" I reached over to pat the cat, which scratched the back of my hand and drew blood.

"Pheu! Off goes half the price of this villainous beast," I said. "Now let's get down to prices."

In the end, he got nearly a hundred drachmai from me. He probably swindled me on some items; but, if he had not come around with these goods just then, I should never have thought to buy home-coming presents at all.

A few days later, our calm was shattered again by the news that Harpalos was back. He had arrived at Peiraieus with two triremes and demanded admission as a suppliant.

Aristoteles excused his classes to go down to Peiraieus to see the sight. It was a cool, windy morning, and the wharves of Peiraieus were crowded. Philokles had lowered the chain to let the ship bearing the treasurer into the Kantharos. The ship anchored a plethron from shore, Harpalos on the forecastle. A plain brown cloak flapped about his gross body as he spoke slowly, gasping and wheezing with the effort of making himself heard by thousands.

"Athenians!" he bellowed. "Men of the violet-crowned city, star in the crown of Hellas! Behold me, a poor suppliant, a fugitive from the wrath of the terrible Alexander! Ah—the Macedonian monster is now marching westward, covered with gore from his Eastern conquests. All who have tried to protect the rights of the conquered are slain without mercy, Hellenes and foreigner alike! The small degree of freedom that Alexander has left you will not long remain you, do you not halt this all-depraved blood drinker ere he reach your holy city. Now comes the great, perhaps the last chance for Hellas to throw off the barbarous Macedonian yoke. Remain supine, and—ah—you will be ground into the mire; rise, and all Asia, now groaning under Alexander's despotism, will rise with you!

"Ah—join me ere it be too late! Though a fugitive, I am no beggar. I bring—ah—material help. Eight thousand stout soldiers, thirty warships, and five thousand talents' worth of money!"

He spoke for two hours, then went back to his cabin. The Athenians dispersed, chattering like magpies. The prytaneis called a special assembly for the next day. On my way to the Lykeion next morn, I heard their trumpets winding in all the towns of Attika.

At the school, Aristoteles looked sharply at Vardanas and me and spoke one word: "Pack!"

"Will they vote to let that scoundrel in?"

"Perhaps. You'd better be ready in any cathe. Once he's in, his bribes will range the magistrates against you, no matter what violence he undertakes."

"Can I attend the assembly?"

"No; not even I may attend, not being a citizen. I'll send Pyrraios to the entrance. As soon as the vote is tallied, he'll athertain from the Scythians how it went and run to your house with the news."

"Are you coming too?" I asked Vardanas. "I should love for you and Nirouphar to put up your horses at my home, but you're a free man."

"Of course I shall come," he said. "Philosophy is fine, but a friend like you is of greater value. Besides, I must pass through Thessalia on my way to Pella to seek a commission from Antipatros. I only beseech that I be not asked to sleep with your pet serpent."

I threw my arms about him. "Thank the gods for that! A congenial companion on the road, they say, is as good as a carriage."

To Aristoteles I said: "O sage, this may be farewell, as we shall ride northward when we go. Suffer me to say how much these months of study with you have meant to me—"

"Oh, rubbish, boy!" he snapped. "Consider the formal farewells all said, and get along with you. If you can return thafely, do so; if not, my thanks for the data. Now, where were we? Ah yes. Today we shall discuth the methods by which tyrants retain their illegal power. There are, in general, two courses of action by which the tyrant can keep his position ..."

We tore ourselves away from the lecture, embraced Siladites (who burst into tears), patted Aias' trunk, and departed. And thus it came to pass that, as late in the afternoon a wreath-crowned Harpalos made a triumphal entrance into Athens through the Sacred Gate, Leon, Vardanas, Nirouphar, and their two menservants rode through the Dipylon Gate and galloped at reckless speed along the Sacred Way towards Eleusis and Thebes.

By pressing on after dark, we reached Thria that night. For want of other quarters, we slept on the benches and floor of the inn, which had but few beds and those occupied.

Next morn we were on the road ere the dawn of a cold, wet, windy day. We galloped across the Thriasian Plain with the wind whipping our mantles and fluttering the horses' streaming manes. We broke our fast at Oea and followed the winding western Kephisos through the Parnes range. There was little traffic, as most of the peddlers had packed away their stocks for the winter.

We climbed the pine-covered slopes of Kithairon, where Aktaion was changed to a stag and Pentheus was screeded by the Bacchantes, to the pass of Dryoskephalai. Here a border patrol of epheboi stopped us, but a flourish of my papers got us through. The folk the militia were seeking were runaway slaves, and we were patently not these unfortunates.

At the crest of the pass, we entered Boiotia. Down the long slope on the north flank of Kithairon we rode, where Oidipous of Thebes was exposed as an infant, whilst a wan winter sun cast long shadows through the oaks. And thus a day of hard riding brought us at dusk to Boiotian Thebes.

Ah, woe! No more did proud Thebes of the Seven Gates overlook the Ismenian Plain, for Alexander had razed the city ten years before. I had heard he left standing only the temples and the house of Pindaros. The descendants of the poet who dwelt in this house were almost the only Thebans neither slain nor sold.

Now, however, quite a few houses stood among the ruins besides the temples. Some were dwellings that the soldiers had not utterly demolished and which had been patched up again. Others were hovels which squatters had put up. Life stirred in Thebes, but there was no sign of welcome for travelers.

I knocked on a door. A great barking arose. The door opened a crack, and a voice said in broad Boiotian: "Who be you?"

"Travelers. We wondered—"

"Ain't got no room. Don't like strangers nohow."

"Then could you tell me——"

"Ain't no other place, neither."

"Do you ken the house of Pindaros?"

"Never heard of it. Now get, or I'll set the dogs on you!"

I turned away, saying: "If the Thebans be all such churls, no wonder the Alexander destroyed them!"

We found shelter in the half-ruined temple of Herakles, south of the Kadmea. The temple, I think, had been left standing at the time of the sack, but, with the desolation of Thebes, not enough offerings had come in to keep it up. So the priests abandoned it. Now a part of one side wall had crumbled away.

Having been softened by our months of comfort in Athens, we found sleep on cold limestone hard to come by. Towards midnight I got up to stretch my legs and found Nirouphar also awake. She was leaning against the edge of the gap in the wall and looking out at the setting moon, which cast black shadows of the slender columns outside across the floor of the temple.

"Rhe—Leon," she said, "I am frightened."

I put my arm around her. "Fear not the Boiotians, dear one."

"It is not they, but your family I fear."

"By the! What's amiss with my folk? They dinna devour the neighbors' bairns for dinner!"

"Of course not, darling. But they are the first real Greek family I shall have visited, for Syloson and his wife scarcely count. I fear to offend unwittingly by my ignorance of your ways and manners."

"If a Hellene can visit a Persian family without disaster, the reverse should be easy. You Persians have far more formal manners than we. All I ask is that you curb your ribald jests. They bother me not, but I'm a soldier; my people feel differently about such things."

"I will. Now tell me more about your people, for I am not sure I remember all their names and relationships."

I went through the roster again, adding a little about our position in the district: how we were the only branch of the Aleuadai in the Atrax district not slain or driven out when the Perraiboi rose against their Larissan overlords, following King Philip's conquest of Thessalia, because we had intermarried with the Perraiboi and were three quarters of their blood.

"It sounds like us and the Houzans," she said, "though, thanks to Auramasdas, they have not attacked us. If that befall, we can make no plea of Houzan blood. We are pure Persian, as you have heard."

"That I have, all too oft. But, with Alexander mixing up the whole world, purity of lineage may cease to be a virtue. Suppose, likein, I were to wed a well-born Persian lass?"

"You would have a true and loving wife, albeit more spirited than these poor downtrodden Greek girls."

She turned her face up to me, and the next instant we were embracing, kissing, murmuring foolishness, and acting as lovers have since the gods first molded men.

There is no telling whither our ardor might have swept us (or rather, it were a simple telling) had not a cough made us turn. There stood Vardanas, fists clenched in the moonlight, and still blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Leon," said he in a heavy voice, "how far has this gone?"

"No further than you've seen. We did but discover our love the now."

Nirouphar said: "You must see reason, Vardanas. With Alexander mixing up the world, purity of descent no longer matters.. And the wise Pyrron told us that such prejudices are unworthy of a truly civilized—"

"Silence, wench," said Vardanas. "My friend, have you forgotten all the obstacles to such a union?"

"For the moment I'd forgotten all but your sister's nearness," I said, still holding her. "But surely these obstacles can be overcome, with resolution and ingenuity."

"Well, I am no world-thinker like Aristoteles, but even I see that the walls of custom between nations are mighty barriers that change but slowly, century by century."

"Let's be plain, Vardanas. Do you deny me the lass, now and forever?"

A tear glistened on the Persian's face in the moonlight. "Were it not for these, obstacles, there is no man I had rather give her to than you. But, until she can wed with the honor due our house, I must refuse."

"What mean you, wed with honor? I would not use her otherwise, either. What can I do to gain your blessing?"

"Let us take the first obstacle first: your family. Do you gain their approval and then come to me again; otherwise I will not yield a finger of my opposition."

I saw that my friend, though in some ways light-minded, was deadly serious in this matter. In the end we all three wept and embraced each other and swore eternal loyalty, whatever betided. Then I tried, quite in vain, to go back to sleep.

We rode westward through the foggy fenlands south of Lake Kopaïs. Through rolling farm land we passed Koroneia, and Lebadea, and Chaironeia with its great stone lion in memory of the Boiotians who fell fighting against King Philip. We entered Phokis and crossed yet another River Kephisos at Potamoi. Mount Parnassos, rising hugely on our left, already bore its wintry snowcap.

Nirouphar and I, like any young couple in love, rode side by side and talked all the time, largely about things of no importance. Vardanas, usually so gay, was sunk in one of his glooms and said little.

Elatea, our next large town, stands on a hill, a spur of Kallidromos that cuts across northern Phokis. We reached it on a cold, clear afternoon after a day of rain. After a long uphill ride we drew rein at an inn on the south side of the city, outside the wall. The road stretched off to southward in a straight line. We were handing over our horses to the grooms when Inaudos said:

"Hipparch, look at those riders!"

I looked southwards along the road and saw, several furlongs distant, a small dark spot that might have been a group of horsemen. "What make you of them?" I said.

The Kordian's blue eyes seemed to bulge with the effort of seeing at the limits of vision. "Five—no, six riders, galloping, and some led horses," he said.

"What of it? We're no the only travelers in Hellas."

"Ah, but I think those are same men I saw on the road between Chaironeia and Potamoi! You remember, there was a place with long view there, too."

"Why spoke you not then?"

"Because I said to myself, like you, we are not only travelers. But now I see them again, and that is different."

"In others words, you think they're pursuing us. Ea, Vardanas!"

With groans for the warm beds we durst not stop to enjoy, we pressed on, riding so hard that we wind-broke one horse and had to abandon it. In the dark we stumbled through the passes between Mounts Knemis and Kallidromos. We arrived at the coast of Lokris-below-Knemis half frozen and half falling from horses whose weary heads hung nigh to the ground. Vardanas said:

"If we fain would keep ahead of those men, Leon, we must needs buy spare horses."

The village of Thronion was asleep when we arrived. The innkeeper gave us room in his bugsome dormitory. Ere cockcrow we were off again. At Skarphea we picked up two horses, and another at Nikaia. Each successive horse seemed to cost us more and be of lesser worth than the last. Although it shames me to confess it, I paid over seven hundred drachmai for those three nags, though the lot were not worth four hundred.

In midmorning we passed the hot spring of Thermopylai, where stood the pillars reared to the men who fell fighting Xerxes' Persians. As we had not yet broken fast, we dismounted to snatch a bite and let the horses graze on the narrow strip, a bare sixteen paces wide, between the Trachinian Cliffs and the sea. Whilst we munched, Vardanas read the inscriptions. On reading the one to the Spartans:

he broke into tears—not for pity at the Spartans, who had after all been fighting his own forebears, but at the poetic elegance of the couplet.

"They come still," said Inaudos, shading his eyes to look back along the shore road.

"I hope your eyesight is as good as it seems," I said, clasping my hands to give Nirouphar a leg up. "Get up, all!"

We reached Lamia ere nightfall in the midst of an anxious discussion of our best route. The main wagon road continues on around the north side of the Malian Gulf and follows the shore all the way to the head of the Pagasaian Gulf, with many turns and twists. A lesser road, not suitable for wheels but much shorter, runs north from Lamia over the Achaian mountains into Phthiotis and thence into Thessalia. I held that our horses were failing, even with the spares; that the quicker we reached my own land the easier it would be to summon help; that we must leave the road to hide overnight in hope our pursuers would pass us by; and that this would be more feasible in the Achaian mountains than on the shore road.

So we took the track north from Lamia instead of the main road eastward. Nightfall found us plodding on panting beasts into the Achaian hills. Our pursuers dropped behind at Lamia, no doubt to ask which way we had gone. But, ere the sun had set, Inaudos, looking back from the top of a long rise, said they were on our trail again.

When we neared the crest of the Achaians, which divide Ainania from Achaia Phthiotis, I cast about for a hiding place. As this range is well forested with oak and pine, such a haven was not hard to find. With a quick look back to make sure our pursuers were not in sight, I waved my people off the road and up the course of a brook. A furlong from the road we found a well-hidden hollow with plenty of browse for the horses.

Leaving Nirouphar, Inaudos, and the Scythian in the hollow, Vardanas and I returned to the road on foot and lay behind some ferns, watching. I said:

"Take that polluted bucket off your head, laddie. They'll see it a league away."

Vardanas doffed his tall Persian hat. We must have waited half an hour before the pursuing party appeared. Like us, they were alternately cantering and walking. Now they were walking, strung out in a long line, two horses abreast, because of the narrowness of the track. It was some comfort to see that they and their beasts looked nigh as tired as we. Vardanas whispered:

"I could nail two or three with arrows ere they knew what had befallen them."

"Nay. We know not yet if they be Harpalos' men."

"How will you learn? By standing up and asking?"

"I'll tell you anon. Now hush!"

We lay whilst the twelve horses plodded past, with men on the backs of six. Although it was too dark to make out the men's faces, they wore rough plain clothing and carried both swords and spears. When they had gone, Vardanas asked:

"Perhaps you know what you do. Meseems you have let slip a chance that will not soon come again."

"I told you I should find out if they're Harpalos' men, did I not? Now hear this. If they be pursuers, they've been stopping at towns along the way to ask for tidings of us, thus making sure we had not left the road. Now, if they be but harmless fellow travelers, they'll go on about their business, and we shall never see them more. But if they seek us, they'll ask at the first towns in Phthiotis. When they learn we've not passed that way, they'll wheel around and come pelting back through these mountains, looking for side trails by which we might have left the road. So a watch and wait of a day or two, at this point, ought to settle the question."

"Mithras!" he said. "You are a tactician second only to Alexander himself. I think you err in leaving the army."

" 'Tis nought so wonderful," I said.

"But what shall we do then?" quoth he. "Take up our journey again on this road? Or try to give them the slip in the forest?"

"We might try either. But I fear these slopes are too steep for horses. Besides, they know I'm bound for Atrax, and so would soon be on our trail again."

"What then? An ambuscade?"

"My thought exactly, buckie. Yonder's a fine place for fell work."

We took stock of our weapons. Everybody but the Scythian had a knife. I had a sword. Vardanas was much the best armed, having a sword, a spiked club, a bow, and his Persian kamynda of braided leather. I said:

"If this rope were stretched across the road at a height of two or three feet just before the foe arrived, they'd trip over it and fall in a fine heap."

We talked of methods of stretching the rope. Then Vardanas said: "We do not need a man on each end. If we fasten the noose around a tree, it will be enough for one man on the other end, across the road, to stretch it taut and give a quick turn around another tree to hold it."

"Good," I said. "Inaudos, as the biggest man here, you shall pull the rope taut. When they pile up, we'll rush in on them and slay all that are not killed in the wreck. Vardanas, your bow is our fellest weapon. Sit your horse among the trees until they pass, then swing into the road behind them and start shooting as they strike the rope. The Scythian and I shall charge down from the sides."

"How about me?" said Inaudos. "If I have to untie horse and mount without help, the fight will be over before I come. I cannot vault on horse as you do."

"You'd best attack on foot. There'll be others dismounted, too, and in such a rough-and-tumble you may do more good that way."

"What shall I fight with? This little thing?" said Inaudos, showing his dagger.

"Take my sword," said Vardanas. "But treat it well; my grandsire wielded it at Kounaxa."

"What will you use besides your bow?" I said.

"The mace," said Vardanas. "It is good only for cracking skulls. Easier it is for a mounted man to crack the skull of a foeman afoot than the contrary."

"They still have the advantage," said Inaudos. "They have spears, while we have none, nor shields either."

"We shall have spears of a sort," I said. "As for shields, let each of us, ere he close with the foe, wrap his mantle around his left arm."

Nirouphar said: "Although I am no warrior, I burn to take part in this battle, too. Can I not hold horses or something?"

We all shouted her down and insisted that a woman's place was well to the rear, where she would not get in the way.

It was a little after noon on the second day of our watch when Inaudos trotted back to us from his lookout. "They come," he said.

"Are you sure they're the same lot?"

"Oh yes. Same number, same dress, same weapons."

"How long ere they reach us?"

He tried to tell me, but the Kordian was not used to dividing the day into hours. He finally said: "If you get ready right now, you have some time before they arrive."

He dismounted, and Nirouphar led his horse back to the hollow.

Vardanas, wearing his coat of iron scales and his Greek helmet, walked his horse up the road for twenty paces and then turned into the trees. The rope lay slack across the road, here three paces wide, with dust and leaves heaped upon it to hide it. Inaudos lay down behind a tree, holding the free end.

The Scythian and I mounted and pulled our horses up among the trees opposite Inaudos. Each of us grasped a crude wooden lance that I had whittled out of a pair of saplings. They were mere sharpened poles, with the points hardened by charring and scraping, like those the Assakenians used in Gandaria. Such a weapon is of little use against armor, but an unarmored man can be pushed off his horse with it, and a lucky thrust that pierces the torso will slay a man as dead as if he had been run through with tempered steel.

After a long wait, the sound of hooves came to us through the trees. Then my heart sank, for the sound was that of horses walking, not cantering. If they went past us at a walk, we could not trip them with the rope. As it had not occurred to me that they might do this, Inaudos had no orders to cover the case. I hoped he would have sense enough to let them go past without discovering us.

Nearer and nearer they came. Then came a command, and the hoofbeats quickened to a gallop, louder and louder.

A shadow fell on the road before us. I saw a flash of movement beyond as Inaudos tautened the rope. There was a mingled scream of horses and their riders. The air was full of hurtling bodies and flailing limbs.

"Come," I said to the Scythian, leveling my lance and spurring Thunderbolt. "Get up!"

But I spoke to empty air. At the first crash, the Scythian dropped his lance, wheeled his mount, and galloped off into the woods.

I heard the snap of Vardanas' bow and his cry of, "Verethragnas aid me!"

Though the Scythian's desertion reduced our odds to one to two, there was no time to chase the dastard and give him his deserts. I had to help my friends quickly or they would be beyond help.

With a prayer to Ares I charged into the road. Two horses with riders had tripped over the rope and fallen. The rider of one lay still; that of the other was rising groggily. A third horse had blundered into the tangle, half fallen, and recovered, but had thrown its rider. A fourth rider had swerved to one side and jumped his mount over the rope. The two others had pulled up in time, but one of these riders was now down with a Persian arrow through him. The other was fighting his horse, which reared and bucked with the pain of another of Vardanas' arrows.

A couple of the led horses had fallen but were scrambling up again, while the rest milled wildly about, kicking and biting at anything that moved within reach.

The most dangerous man I judged to be the one who had jumped the rope. He was just turning his mount to charge back. I spurred Thunderbolt until even that sluggish mass of fat bestirred himself to an honest gallop. I dodged past some of the led horses and clutched my mount's mane to affix myself firmly in my seat against the shock of collision.

The rider was still turning when my lance caught him in the side below the armpit. It was one of my best lance thrusts, for it drove deeply into the man's body and hurled him from his seat. His weight dragged down the point of the lance, whose shaft broke across his horse's back.

I wheeled. Something struck my helmet with a clang, but I heeded it not. Seeing the man on the wounded horse still mounted, I made for him, swinging the stump of my lance like a cudgel. Riderless horses got between me and my quarry, so that no matter how many I dodged or drove away with blows, there always seemed to be more.

I had at last forced Thunderbolt within reach of the mounted man and had swung back the staff for a mighty blow, when two of the dismounted men ran at me from opposite sides. Thunderbolt screamed as one slashed at his hock while the other thrust a spear into his shoulder.

Hamstrung, the horse fell back and then on its side, pinning my right leg. The beast kicked and thrashed, rolling back and forth on my tortured leg. The led horses milled about us, almost stepping on me, until at last most of them ran off down the road.

Hopelessly, I fumbled for my sword as my two attackers stepped forward to finish me. Then I saw one become locked in a grapple with Inaudos. The other poised his spear for a thrust at my heart. I raised my sword in a futile effort to parry the lunge.

The man above me suddenly dropped his spear and clawed at his head, which seemed to be enveloped in a yellow fur cap. When the cap sprang away with a screech, the man stood dazedly feeling his scratched and bleeding face. Vardanas rode past him, looking furlongs high, and brought his spiked club down with a crunch. A thrown spear glanced off Vardanas' armor ere he passed from my sight.

Presently Inaudos and Vardanas returned together. Inaudos looked at my horse and cut its throat. The two dragged the carcass off me and helped me up. My leg was unbroken, but so badly bruised that I could not stand on it.

All six pursuers lay dead. One of their horses was dead also; the rest had run away. Inaudos had a brace of flesh wounds. Vardanas, thanks to his coat of lizard mail, had come through without a scratch.

Nirouphar rushed up and covered me with kisses.

"What befell?" I asked, hobbling back towards the hollow with my arms about my comrades' necks. "The lout was about to skewer me—" Then I saw the empty cat basket at the edge of the forest. The cat had vanished. "Did you throw that cat at him?"

"Yes indeed, darling," said Nirouphar. "It was all I could think of, having neither sword nor spear to hand."

"A lucky cast, forsooth! I owe my life to it, though my mother must needs do without her Egyptian kitten. We shall have to rely on our dear old snake to keep the mice at bay." I sat down with a groan in the hollow.

"Whither has my slave gone?" said Vardanas.

"Fled at the first onset," I said. "If I be any soothsayer, he'll be halfway to Macedonia the morn. Thence he'll press on to Scythia, robbing hen roosts, unless he join a robber band. You'll never see him again. Now for Hera's sake give me some wine to lessen the pain!"

"The Scythian tried to take me with him," said Nirouphar, handing me a wineskin.

"Mithras smite the viper!" cried Vardanas. "What did the knave?"

"Hardly had the sound of the ambush come to my ears, when the slave galloped back to the hollow. He shouted something about my coming, caught my wrist, and tried to drag me across his horse's back. I pricked the horse with my dagger; it reared and nearly threw him. He cast a curse at me and rode on."

Vardanas cursed the Scythian with frightful curses. Calming, he said: "Why should the abandoned scoundrel do that, Leon? A woman's no use to him with his infibulation. At least, so the slave dealer told me."

"Nay; but, if he win to his own land, he'll soon have the ring snipped from his prong. After a few days' soreness he'll be as doughty a spearman as ever."

"Castration is better," growled Vardanas, cursing some more.

I said: "Come, my friend, would you not seize a chance to escape, were you a slave in Scythia?"

"Arimanes take such talk! Our philosophical friends in Athens have addled your mind with their foolish ideas of the equality of all men."

"Equal or not, he's free," I said, "and on two legs, which I am not. Now let's look to our own future. We've lost two horses—not that they were any kin to Pegasos—but we have captured no beasts to take their place."

"How stupid of me!" cried Vardanas, fumbling with the lacings of his mail coat. "Help me out of this crab's shell, Inaudos. I go to fetch a horse."

When free of his armor, Vardanas retrieved the kamynda from the dust, coiled it, and vaulted upon his steed. Off he went. Inaudos dragged the corpses off the road and buried them, while Nirouphar comforted me.

"At least," I said, "your brother need not worry about your virtue the now. Whilst I'm in this sorry state, Aphrodite herself could get no pleasure from me. Though, of course, you are fully as beautiful as she," I hastily added.

As my injuries were of the kind that only time would mend, I resigned myself to sitting in the hollow for a few days. Late that afternoon, when Inaudos was broiling a steak from one of the slaughtered beasts, Vardanas brought in a horse he had caught with his noose.

"The kamynda is not meant for forests," he said. "I readily found the horses, but most of my casts were fouled by branches."

He rode off once more and at dusk returned with another. The next day he fetched two more, but on the following hunt failed to find the masterless remnant, which had now scattered too widely. Still, we were now two horses better off than when we set out.

Vardanas was vastly impressed by the grassy plains of Thessalia, even in their dreary winter guise. "What horse country!" he cried. "But alas, my friend, I see no horses; only herds of these oversized hares you falsely call by the noble name of 'horse.'"

I said: "True, we could do with some of your Median monsters. Belike, when our personal problems are settled, we could devise a scheme for fetching horses of the royal breed from your land to mine."

"We have a herd of them already," he said. "At my family's estate, that is. There were ten to begin with, but now they've doubled under my brother Kambouzias' loving care."

"Let us speak of this again," I said. "My parents would be outraged did I go into general trading, albeit I have some bent in that direction. Luckily, horse trading is the one business a Thessalian knight may engage in without dishonor."

To reach Atrax, one goes sixty furlongs up the winding valley of the Peneios from Larissa. As we came unto the demesnes of my family, I began excitedly to point out landmarks.

"Over yonder lies my elder cousin Demonax's land, as far as you can see up the river," I babbled. "This parcel we rent to Yeoman Abas; that patch about his house he owns in qualified fee simple. Yon kine I think are ours ..."

We entered our own holdings and rode several furlongs to the manor house. I saw that my brother Demonax had at last effected one of his favorite projects: that of putting gravel on the road to make it less muddy in winter and dusty in summer.

I meant at first to ride straight to the door of the manor, but as we passed by the farmyard it struck me that most of my family would be there at this time of day. And so it proved.

Tears started to my eyes as there unfolded before me the dear familiar scenes of my childhood, but little changed by time: my elder brother Demonax training a horse, the old pigpen removed to make way for a fountain, my sister Phila and a serving wench carrying between them a great basket of laundry from the washhouse, a new stable, my brother Aristos beating a serf, a cock chasing a hen around the dunghill, my father in heated dispute with the chief groom ...

They all saw me at once. My sister dropped her wash in the mud with a screech that must have been heard in Larissa. My brothers ran towards me, bellowing a welcome until our horses danced uneasily. I dismounted, still limping, and was soon engulfed in family, retainers, and servants, all of whom rushed out to hug and kiss me. My mother heard the noise, came out from the manor house, and plowed through the crowd like a ship through the waves to add her embraces. She was a tall large-boned woman, and it secretly grieved me to see how much older she appeared than I remembered.

After greeting me, my father (who had put on weight and lost his hair since I saw him last) looked Vardanas over and whispered to me: "Is this the young Persian callant I've been hearing about, Leon? Should I cast mysel down in the muck afore him, or what? Persians are a terrible polite folk, I'm told."

"He's a brother to me, so use him as such," I said. "And the lady is his sister Nirouphar."

Then they embraced and kissed Vardanas and Nirouphar, who took it with good grace. I opened my saddlebags and handed out my homecoming gifts amid shrieks from the women and affectionate roars from the men.

As we walked towards the manor, my father said: "I suppose you've come home full of grand Athenian ideas of how to play the gentleman. You'll be wanting us to eat lying down the now, and keep the women locked up in the benmost part of the house, eh?"

"Nought of the kind, Goodsire! I've seen men and their customs from Athens to India, and, by Zeus and all the gods, it does my heart good to be where I can act natural again!"

"Good lad!"

"As for my Persian friends, the more you entreat them like kinfolk, the happier 'twill make me. There's but one small matter. Is old Typhon still with us?"

"Aye; I saw him in the barn but yestreen."

"Then I ask that he be kept out of the house whilst they're here. Like many foreigners, they have a foolish fear of snakes."

"Losh, what queer folk foreigners maun be! But it shall be as you say. Tell me, do Persians dine mixed, or men and women separate? I ask because your good mother would hate to be parted from her bairn at your first repast at home."

"Mixed," I said. As we came to the door of the manor house, my mother said:

"I hope you've no forgotten how to wipe your feet, Leon darling!"

The torches and lamps burnt past midnight as we sat in the hall and told our adventures. My grandmother dozed through most of it. After sleeping the morning through, I forgathered with my parents to talk serious business. I showed them the money I had brought home.

"No vast Persian treasure?" said my father mockingly.

"Dinna bait the lad," said my mother. "Seeing all the temptations to fling one's silver away that there be in a soldier's life, he's done well to save as muckle as he has. But now, sweet Leon, there's another matter we maun speak of. How old are you? Twenty-six?"

"I entered my twenty-eighth year last month," I said.

"And still unwed. Sin you've left the king's service, you'll be settling down here, is it no?"

"What are you ettling after, Mother?"

My father interrupted: "When we got your letter from Athens-did you receive mine, by the bye?"

"Na, I didna."

"That oft befalls. As I wrote, your mother and I have taken thought on finding you a proper goodwife. I've put out inquiries amongst the knightly families of the region, and methinks I've found one."

"Who?" I gulped.

"Manto, daughter of Ion of Argoura."

I tried to recall Ion's family. He had several daughters, but the lass would have grown beyond recognition, anyway.

"She's fifteen," said my mother, "and well brought up. At no rate ugly, albeit her teeth might be better. But that's of less weight than her portion. Ion's offering two and a half talents! With your bonus you'll be a rich young couple. Besides, they're a branch of the Skopadai, so we shall have a connection with ilk of the best families of southern Thessalia."

I grunted. My father said: "The lad's no listening. What's agley?"

"Nought. Only-well-ah—"

"Is your mind bent another way?" asked my father suspiciously. When I did not answer, Mother burst out: " 'Tis the foreign cutty! Is it no true? I thought I saw him rolling ox eyes at her yesternight! Answer me, Leon!"

"Rhoda, my dear," said my father, "let's no—"

"Is it no true, Leon?" she cried. "The Persian strumpet—"

"I'll no have you speak on her in sic words!" I said, rising. "An you persist, I'll forth into the world again, talent and all."

"Leon! You darena speak thus till your own mother—"

"Pray, pray!" said my father. "Let's be keeping our tempers. Tell us about the kimmer, Leon."

"She's a well-born Persian lady, of a landowning family in Sousa muckle like ours. Aside from that, she's the brawest, purest, bonniest lass I've met in Hellas or Persia."

My mother said: "These foreign wenches can easily fool a wean like you. Too late you find they're temple whores or the like."

"I said I wudna bear sic talk!" I shouted.

"Now, now," said my father. "Do curb your tongue, Rhoda. You're but making matters waur. Now, Leon, let's speak of the little matter of property. Some Persians are said to be unco rich—"

" 'Tis no for her property I love her, for she has none. She quarreled with her goodsire and ran away with her brother. And even gif she be reconciled, the Persians dinna give their daughters dowries. The man's family pays, instead."

My father's eyes bulged, and he sat down heavily. "By the gods!" he gasped. "I wudna have believed it. A foreigner is bad enough, let abee a dowerless wench—why son, you're fair, dune daft! I have never heard the like!"

"There was my grandfather Leon," I said.

"Aye, but that's long syne. Look you, Leon, take the besom to concubine if you maun. We all ken how strong are the lusts of youth—"

"Dinna speak on her so! Persians of good class are as jealous of their women's virtue as we, and I'll warrant she's a virgin still."

"Virgin or no," said my mother, "I might put up with a lass of small dowry, were she of well-known respectable local folk. But a filthy foreigner! Why, son, you'd even lose your franchise! 'Twere a disgrace to us all! I durstna see my friends again, but would shut mysel up like Danae in her tower. Well, one thing's sure: the hussy maun be out of my house the night."

"An she go, I go, too," I said.

My mother raged at me, but my father asserted himself for once. "Hold your tongue, Rhoda. He has all your stubbornness; press him too far and he'll go as he says. Whereas, while he stays, there's a chance he'll somegate be brought to see reason. Forbye, 'twould smirch our repute for hospitality to ask our guests to leave over a matter in which, as far as we ken, they're blameless."

After some further argument, my father and I wrung a grudging agreement from my mother that there should be no more talk of sending my friends away.

"More by token," I said, "the lass shall be used with all our wonted courtesy. The erst I hear to the contrary—out I go!"

That night my father bid a number of his knightly friends and relations to the hall for a man's banquet. By next day, our quarrel had simmered down for the nonce. That morning I met Nirouphar in the courtyard and asked her how things went.

"They're as kind as they could be," she said. "Especially your dear mother, whom I love already as my own. But—oh, Rheon, she was telling me of your marriage customs! I fear it is hopeless for us."

I saw what Mother was up to, but short of leaving home I knew not what I could do about it. Despite my heated speech of the previous day, I was loath to leave, so soon at any rate after so long an absence. Besides, I had no definite plans for earning my bread, aside from hazy thoughts of re-enlisting in Alexander's armies.

In the afternoon, Vardanas came in from showing my brother Aristos tricks with his kamynda. The downy-bearded young Aristos was ever the difficult one of our family, dour and self-willed, but he was like putty in the Persian's hands. Next, Vardanas borrowed Aristos' lyre. When I came upon them, Vardanas was sitting in the courtyard, singing sad Persian love songs in a high quavery voice. When Aristos got bored and went off to practice with the noose, Vardanas struck a final chord and said:

"Have you spoken to your parents about the matter that concerns us all, Leon?"

"Aye. And the violence of their protests all but blew the roof off."

"As I expected," he said, striking another sad chord. "Are you no pleased?"

"Nay, my friend. For I bid fair to join you in your misery."

"What mean you, laddie?"

"It is your fair sister Phila."

"Herakles! What see. you in her?" I blurted. To me Phila was simply a snub-nosed brat with reddish hair who had grown up into a snub-nosed sixteen-year-old maid with reddish hair—a good fishing companion, perhaps, but not the sort any man in search of wife or mistress would look at twice.

"She has my heart in her keeping, though she know it not."

"O deathless gods! Eros has tied a knot more snarled than that of Gordios, and we have no sword wherewith to cleave it. Belike 'twere better not to bring this condition of yours before ray parents yet; they've had one shock already."

Vardanas gave a deep sigh. "Alas, dearest friend! Would we were Athenians, who fall in love only with those of their own sex!" He began another melancholy Persian love song.

This was serious enough, but that night Phila stopped me in the house to ask me all about Vardanas.

"Oh," said she, closing her eyes, "is he no grand, though?"

Things quieted down for the nonce. There was always so much to be done on the estate that a man suffering from frustrated love could thus work off his feelings.

But in the month of Gamelion, when a sudden snowstorm had driven us in for the day and our guests were occupied elsewhere, our problem blew up into another domestic storm. I threatened to leave home, Phila threatened to slay herself if Vardanas departed, and my parents threatened all sorts of dire things.

Into this battle of words came my brother Demonax, shaking the snow from the folds of his cloak and thus further displeasing Mother, who hated wet floors. Everybody appealed to him, for he was by general consent deemed the wisest and justest of us all, and he had of late been taking over more and more of the management of the manor from my father.

Demonax, howsomever, kept a judicial silence, seeming more amused than appalled by our various plights. When the rest of us had shouted ourselves hoarse, he smiled his slow smile and said mildly:

"Hellenes give dowries; Persians give bride payments. What for no suffer these customs to cancel out? Let Vardanas give his bride payment to his sister to be her dowry; and, sin he'll then no have muckle left to live on, let you give Phila her marriage portion to set up housekeeping with the Persian, though he dinna expect it."

My mother cried: "Would you really let your own flesh and blood marry on these strangers from ayont the seas, where they practice the gods know what abominations?"

"What for no? Gin the king can do it, we can. As for Vardanas, from what I've seen of him, I call him a braw chappie. He and I have just ridden into town and back."

"But, Demonax!" protested my father. " 'Tis clean illegal! 'Twould cost Leon his citizenship, let abee social standing!"

Now Demonax grinned broadly. "That may have been true last month, but 'tis so no longer," said he, relishing every word. "Have you no heard of the notice on the news board in the market place in Atrax?"

"Na!" we all cried. "What says it?"

"'Tis a proclamation by the king, which arrived by royal post a few days syne. Alas, that we were no in town to hear it read by the crier! 'Twould have saved a muckle havering. But what it says is this: The Alexander, to cement a lasting bond of love atween the noblest peoples of his realm, namely the Hellenes and the Persians, has adopted a policy of intermarriage. He will this very month, at Sousa, celebrate a marriage atween himself and his Macedonian generals on one hand, and ane equal number of Persian ladies on the other. Soldiers who have taken Persian concubines shall have their unions made legal unless previous marriages prevent. All laws again such interracial marriages, throughout his empire, are repealed; and all penalties sic as loss of citizenship shall be remitted."

"Why said you no so, long syne?" I cried. " 'Tis a cause for me to rejoice!"

"The Alexander will never persuade the southern Greeks to swallow that doctrine," said my father.

Phila, her eyes red from weeping, said: "Please, Father, let him go on."

Demonax continued: "Such marriages shall be deemed as noble and legitimate as any other, and aught to the contrary shall incur the king's displeasure. To give the new unions ane auspicious start, all soldiers and former soldiers taking part shall receive a dowry of one year's pay from the royal treasury. What was your pay, Leon?"

"Eh?" So turbulent were my thoughts that he had to repeat his question.

I said: "I'm carried on the rolls as squadron leader the now. That would make—let me think—about sixteen pounds of silver." In sooth, the question of money interested me much less than the fact that the last legal obstacle to an honorable union had been blown away by the king's decree, like a scrap of papyrus in a gale.

Whilst my parents sat with stunned demeanor, Demonax went on: "So all you maun do is wed your Persian lass, ride to Larissa with witnesses or depositions, and file a claim with the governor again the Macedonian treasury. Gin all go well, you should be getting a bonny nest egg in a month or two."

I muttered my thanks and started for the door to find my sweetling, but my brother caught my arm. "One moment, Leon. Vardanas and I talked business on our ride, and he has a thought that might make this union gey profitable to us."

"Aye?" said my father, rousing himself from his stupor. "Profit? Say on, son."

"You ken the giant cavalry chargers of Media, the royal breed? Well, it seems that horse thieves broke up the great herd at the fall of Dareios, and some of these horses came into the hands of Vardanas' family. Vardanas thinks we could fetch the increase of this herd hither from Sousa. They'll command fabulous prices in Hellas."

My father looked at Phila and me. "Children," he said, "I yield to the manifest will of the gods. Wed your Persians with my blessing!"

There was much to be done ere all these high-sounding plans could be executed. We sent Getas, a trusted slave who had refused emancipation, to Sousa with letters to Vardanas' family. Whilst awaiting a reply, we busied ourselves with the myriad chores: delivering calves and foals, building a new hay cart, mending the horse trough, and visiting sick serfs.

My mother, to give her due credit, did all she could to make up for her early hostility by being good to our guests. On closer acquaintance she came to love them even as I had.

In the spring, Getas returned. He brought news that old Thraitaunas had grown feeble and was confined to his bed. Young Kambouzias, who now held the reins of the household, wrote that his sire longed to see his runaway son and daughter again. If they came home ere he died, they might wed black Ethiops for aught he cared. As for the royal horses, the herd was waxing, and the proposal for an export trade was excellent. When could we begin?

So, one fine day in Mounychion, Vardanas was joined to Phila and I to Nirouphar. We borrowed my uncle Leon's house so that there should be the proper wedding processions both ways.

Ere she would wed me, however, Nirouphar exacted one extraordinary promise: namely, that I should teach her to read and write Greek proficiently. At the time, I thought this a mere womanish whim, but it turned out well. If my readers detect in this memoir a touch of literary art beyond what would be expected of an old soldier and horse trader, the credit should go to the merciless prodding, criticism, and revision of my dear wife, who seems to have a natural literary gift.

Her one regret is that she did not learn to read and write the Greek tongue in childhood. She is sure that if she had, she would have surpassed Sappho as a poet, Thoukydides as a historian, and the divine Homer himself as a spinner of tales of adventure. Who knows? Belike she would have, at that.

It were not decent to go into the details of my married life. I will only say that if, like most married couples, we have had our ups and downs, I would repeat those marriage vows without hesitation.

After the wedding feast, we set forth once more upon our travels. We traveled in comparative comfort, with slaves and my burly Kordian to tend us. One pleasure of this merry journey was to show Phila, who had never even been to Larissa, the sights of distant lands. We reached Sousa at the beginning of Skirophorion, in time to receive the onset of the terrible summer heat. But business is business, as we say in Thessalia.

Our horse trade went through appalling vicissitudes, but in the end it flourished. We have had the patronage of Seleukos the Victorious, king of Syria and Persia. He alone of the Successors kept the Persian wife whom Alexander thrust upon him, the princess Apama; and he therefore looked with favor upon Vardanas and me because of our mixed marriages. We have also had the good will of the younger Arivarates of Kappadokia, through whose land the roads to Hellas run.

I bought a house at Alexandreia-by-Issos from that same Syrian stonemason who sought to sell me one when I went there with the elephant, thus placing myself in an advantageous position in the middle of our horse-trading route. I also bought enough land to provide grazing for the beasts on their way through. My children are as proud of this patch of Syrian seacoast as I was aforetime of our broad Thessalian plethra.

On the whole, I have done well. I have seen the pyramids of Egypt, the snows of Scythia, and the bustle of Syracuse, greatest of Greek cities. I have outlived many of those who played leading roles in this tale. For, after Alexander's death, the philosopher Aristoteles was forced to leave Athens because of his Macedonian connections, and the next year he died in Euboia. My brother Aristos, alas, perished in the Lamian War, which broke out at this time.

That fat rascal Harpalos, who had tried so diligently to have me slain, for a time had all Athens dancing to the tune of his bribes. The great windbag Demosthenes succumbed easily. Even grim old Phokion, the general-in-chief, was drawn into the circle of corruption by a commission to his son-in-law to build a huge monument to the treasurer's first wife.

Then the Athenians changed their minds—whether from a rush of conscience, or fear of Alexander, or sheer fickleness—and drove Harpalos out. He fled to Crete, where his follower Thimbron murdered him and in his turn perished adventuring in Africa. As they say, no tears are shed when an enemy dies.

Vardanas and my brother Demonax, praise to the gods, survive hale and whole and will leave many children and grandchildren to make offerings to their shades. Assuming, as Pyrron of Elis would say, that such things as shades exist.

Speaking of Pyrron and of the gods, I have become, like him, very skeptical about supernatural matters. But here I shall thank any gods there be, that, in a world so lavishly supplied with fools and knaves, they chose for me such stout and worthy comrades on that long and perilous journey which I made with Aias the elephant. Never shall I forget the faithful and practical soldier Thyestes, the sober and earnest Indian elephantarch Kanadas, the wise and cheerful philosopher Pyrron, the shrewd and foresighted Syrian trader Elisas, and most of all, the gallant Persian gentleman Vardanas. If any gods do in fact exist, I wish them to know I am grateful; if they exist not, no harm is done.