An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Two GANDARIA

An elephant neither trots nor canters. It single-foots, slowly or swiftly as the case may be. An easy speed for an elephant is that of a horse's trot, though it can attain the speed of a gallop when angry or frightened. Aias swung along for hours at a time, at a pace too fast for a walk. As no horseman can long trot with comfort, the rest of us cantered until the elephant was a few furlongs behind us, then walked until he caught up.

Our normal order of march was as follows: Vardanas and I rode in front, I on Golden, a hard-mouthed, hard-gaited animal who would bite if she could, but strong and tireless.

Then came the four Dahan horse archers, followed by the Thessalians. Next came the mule carts with the women, children, camp servants, and slaves; then the grooms riding some of the spare horses and leading the others; and lastly the elephant and one horse. Kanadas and Siladites took turns riding the elephant and this horse. The elephant carried a booth on its back, in which we had piled a part of the baggage. I named two strong and trustworthy Thessalians as guards of the chests of money and Indian specimens, which rode in our largest cart.

Vardanas and I, even though we rode together, spoke not much. We watched one another warily. He watched me to see if I should cast more slights upon his dignity; whilst I, sensing his grudge, watched him lest he cause trouble by stirring up quarrels or spreading false tales. I was sure that once we got into Persia he would desert us and gallop off homeward. When we did speak, it was with cold courtesy.

Vardanas no longer wore his iron-scaled leather gown or rode the giant Nisaian charger he had used in the battle. That horse belonged to the king. The Persian rode his own horse, Rakous, a big strong beast but no Median monster. He had packed away his mail coat and wore one of his shabby old imperial uniforms with maroon trousers and yellow Median coat embroidered with flowers.

On his back he slung his bow case, which held forty arrows and a thick double-curved Persian bow made of strips of wood and horn glued together. From his belt hung, besides a sword with an ornate hilt of silver and ivory, a horrid weapon: a stout bludgeon with short iron spikes affixed to the knob so that they stuck out in all directions. On his head was a crested Greek helmet, for many foreigners have taken to this kind of headgear. He had the indefinable look, alert yet easy, that marks the seasoned soldier.

I put Vardanas in command of the Dahas, as he was the only one who could talk with them. They were typical Sakas, big men with long filthy hair and beards, pointed caps, short coats, and trousers tucked into high boots. Although Vardanas, having been promoted to troop closer, was second to me in rank, it seemed better not to set him in direct command of Hellenes any more than emergencies required.

The first day we spent much time in stopping to shift loads and make minor repairs. Remembering Xenophon's advice, I had laid in a store of straps. Hence we were never held up for long by breakage of harness. By evening we had shaken down into a workable cavalcade.

I chose a camping place near a village and sent Elisas to the village for food. The camp men cut down a small tree for firewood; the cook grumbled as he strove to start a fire in the drizzle. I rushed about counting noses and inspecting equipment until Pyrron, speaking Attic (albeit with a noticeable Doric accent), said:

"Don't take life so hard, my boy. The too tautly strung bow is the first to break."

I began an angry retort, but thought better of it and laughed. "Aye, 'tis true I'm over-anxious, best one. This is my first independent command, and I'll have nought go awry with it."

"Worry enough and something probably will," he said. "You exhaust yourself seeking knots in bulrushes."

"Worry not at all, as you seem to do, and something will go agley, too," I said. "I've been looking forward to serious talks with you, O philosopher, but I have been over-busy with my duties."

"You'll be frightfully disappointed. I gnaw at people's basic assumptions, and most folk loathe having their basic assumptions disturbed."

"I fear no truth, however painful. Now tell me, what is Aristoteles like?"

"I have never encountered him. From what I hear, he knows much and thinks he knows much more. A clever man, but an incorrigible dogmatizer—why, what's wrong?" he said, observing my change of expression.

It had suddenly struck me that I did not remember packing the king's letters. I rushed to the chests and rummaged through them, but no letters did I find. I was still rummaging and looking stupidly over and over in the same places a quarter hour later when Pyrron wandered into the tent and asked:

"What are you seeking so frantically, old boy?"

"Those two letters from the king. This is terrible!"

"My word! Have you looked in your wallet?"

I looked into the pouch at my waist. Sure enough, there were the letters, along with my comb, spoon, loose money, a map, and an amulet.

I took a long breath of relief and asked: "Why gave the king these letters to me to deliver instead of to you? These philosophers are your colleagues."

"He said I was too absent-minded and would surely lose them, although perhaps I'm not the only one with that failing."

Abashed that Pyrron should have caught me without my dignity, I came out of the tent with the Eleian and brought up another subject. I pointed towards the stream, where Kanadas was cooking his own dinner over a small fire. His food was made up largely of an Indian grain called rice, lately raised also in Sousiana and Babylonia as well. This, when cooked, becomes a mess of little white lumps.

"What's that fellow up to?" I said.

Pyrron replied: "Kanadas is a xatria or member of the warrior caste.

A high-caste Indian cannot eat with the rest of us, for religious reasons."

"What nonsense! I see his comrade eats everything he can lay his hands on."

"The other Indian belongs to the herding caste, much lower in the scale. So nobody cares what he eats. Anyway, why are their religious rules any more nonsensical than ours?"

I stared at him. "Are you daft, man? I'm a Hellene! I am civilized and these foreigners are not. Therefore, my customs must be right and theirs, as far as they differ, must be wrong."

"Who says so?"

"I do, of course. I mean, if all the great Hellenic thinkers agree that the Hellenes are the most civilized folk, it must be so."

"What do you expect them to say?" asked Pyrron.

"What mean you?"

"You wouldn't look for a Hellene to admit that other folk are superior even if they were, would you? Like everybody else, we think we are the best. So do the Persians: they hold the pure Persians to be the best of men; then come the other Arian races like the Medes; and lastly the rest of mankind, and the Indians feel the same about themselves."

I tried to be just. "I suppose 'tis natural for foreigners to grow up with such ignorant prejudices. They lack our advantages."

"Ah, but who determines which is prejudice and which is truth?"

Forgetting that even a fool can often pass for a wise man by holding his tongue, I barked: "I know there's something amiss with your argument, though I cannot quite see where the flaw lies. But I remember the Athenians killed Sokrates for questioning basic truths as you do. Take care the same befall not you. Now I must see to my men."

I went off gruffly to harass my little hipparchia. It was a stupidly discourteous way to treat Pyrron, especially after I had bragged of fearing no truth. Howsomever, I was young and unsure of my authority. Hence I felt that I had to snap at anybody I suspected of not taking it seriously. Luckily Pyrron, the most easy-tempered of men, took no offense.

After three days we forded the little Tabara and reached Taxasila, the capital of Alexander's ally, King Ombis. Taxasila is a town of good size, although no Babylon. The circuit of its mud-brick walls is about fourteen furlongs. The eastern approach is made unpleasing by the burial grounds, or rather unburial grounds, for many Taxasilans follow the Persian custom of exposing bodies for wild things to devour. We rode past, holding our noses, while vultures, kites, and jackals squabbled over the remains. On the other side of the road lie heaps of ashes where the Indians burn widows alive.

We camped outside the walls on the banks of the Tabara and ate our lunch. I decided we could do all our needful business during the afternoon and set forth the following morn. This announcement brought groans from the men, who were looking forward to several days of the pleasures of the city.

We had seen Taxasila before, when Alexander's army passed through on its way from the Indus to the Hydaspes. We had stopped for several days to rest and be entertained by King Ombis' musicians and dancing girls. After four years of seeing nought but the villages of Baktria and Gandaria, Taxasila had seemed like the capital of the world. Now the men wanted more of these joys.

I, on the other hand, was eager to be off. I thought the most dangerous parts of our journey would lie through the wilds of Gandaria and Arachotia. If any disaster befell us, it would be there. Hence I was anxious to put this part of the trip behind me. Sooner begun, sooner done, as we say in Thessalia.

In the city were traders from Persia and Syria, envoys from unheard-of kingdoms to the east and south, professors of Brachmanic theology lecturing their disciples, naked holy men, snake charmers and jugglers, and thousands of tall Indians with dyed beards. The town, like the older cities of Hellas, seems to have grown up in no particular order. The houses are placed at random and crowded together, making the streets extremely narrow and crooked. The houses are all made of brown mud brick, unadorned and graceless on the outside, though I am told that some have handsome interiors.

My first business was to seek out Philippos son of Machatas, Alexander's viceroy of Taxasila. I found him, a fat jolly-looking man, in a wing of King Ombis' palace, sitting over a table littered with muster rolls and bills of account, with a brace of Indian clerks to help him. For want of papyrus he used the local writing material made from palm fronds.

"So you propose to take this elephant west to Hellas, Hipparch?" he said. "Hermes attend us! That is a man-sized task. You must call upon my brother Harpalos, the treasurer. He will be overjoyed to see you, overjoyed."

"I shall probably have to wait upon the king's treasurer in any case," said I, "to replenish my funds. Where shall I find him—in Babylon?"

"He writes me that he spends most of the year in his new palace in Tarsos, where the principal mint now is. He only comes to Babylon for a few months each winter. So, if you reach Tarsos before the beginning of Poseidon, you will probably find him there. Give him my love."

"I will indeed convey your compliments, General," I said.

Philippos said: "He should entertain you in style." He winked at me. "If the treasurer of the empire cannot live well, who can? Let me give you a hint for dealing with my brother. If you desire to get favors from him, give him something lively in the female line. Harpalos has never been a physically strong man, and the only athletics he indulges in are of the horizontal kind. But he makes up for his other shortcomings by his prowess in these."

I arranged with the viceroy to draw on the government's local stores of fodder, as Eumenes had authorized. I also obtained the name of a trustworthy caster of omens for the next stage of our journey. As we parted, Philippos urged again:

"Be sure to call upon Harpalos for any help you need. I will write him that you are on your way."

Back at camp, I had finished dinner and was beginning the first of my reports to the king, when Thyestes said: "I ken the best whore in the city, Leon. Come along and you'll have a gallop to remember while crossing the deadly Persian deserts."

Pyrron said: "I'm for some Indian colleagues this evening. Why don't you Come and listen to Indian philosophy?"

I wavered between the offers. I was young and healthy and had not mounted a woman for a month. Having no taste for carnal intercourse with men, I was finding my lusts bothersome in spite of the resolve I made after Hyovis' death, to live chastely like an Indian ascetic. As they say, though you drive Nature out with a spear, she will return.

On the other hand, I should like to have spent the evening with Pyrron. While I doubted if any foreigners like these Indians had much to say worth listening to, it might be worth a trial if Pyrron thought so.

In the end I declined both offers on the ground that I had to finish my letter to the king, thus salving my conscience and at the same lime avoiding offense to either of my companions. Some would have neglected to send any reports to Alexander at all. But I was sure that the king, if he failed to hear from me, would send an order by the Persian post dismissing me and giving Thyestes or Vardanas the command. This bent, to run myself to death in trying to forestall every contingency, has cost me much pleasure in life but has probably saved me from some disasters too.

Next morning we struck camp early, for, as we say in Thessalia, the morn favors the traveler on his road. It was then I found Pyrron, Vardanas, and Kanadas missing. I rushed back to Taxasila. First I tried to question the guard at the gate, but he and I had no speech in common. It was the same with the others I met until I came upon an early rising Persian merchant. With his help, I got directions to a sacred grove on the western side of the city, where lived the Indian philosophers.

Here I found a dozen naked Indians pottering about with a morning meal, whilst my missing officers lay propped against the roots of trees, wrapped in their cloaks and snoring.

I shook them awake. Pyrron, when he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes, laughed at my wrath.

"These are the rhamanai whom Oneskritos and I interviewed last spring," he said. "We brought them some rice and barley and sat up conversing almost until dawn. Vardanas and Kanadas translated. I must expound their hypotheses of metempsychosis and divine justice—"

"We're on the king's business," I said. "Come along, and next time vanish not like that. For aught I knew you might have been murdered."

"I'm sorry, old fellow. You should have accompanied us."

I was sorry, too, though I would not then have admitted it. I have become sorrier since, for I have never been to India again. As Herakleitos said, one cannot step twice into the same stream.

In India food for the elephant was no problem. The rains had covered the bare brown plain with new grass and herbs, on which the animal grazed whenever we stopped.

We rode along a narrow river of brown mud between seas of grass on either side. Now and then we passed Indians afoot or riding asses and camels. Often the carts got stuck. When this befell, I boggled not at plunging into the mud to heave on the wheels with the rest. As my father always said, example is better than precept.

At least once a day a Persian postman galloped past. They leaned over their horses' necks, their faces half hidden by their headcloths, and swerved off the road just far enough to miss us. The first day out of Taxasila, a heavy downpour had halted our column when a postman flew past. A clod of mud from his hooves struck me fairly in the face.

I wiped off the mud and shouted after the courier: "Zeus cover your arse with boils!" By then he was out of sight behind the curtain of rain, and he would not have understood me anyway. I said to Pyrron:

"Does nought stop these lads?"

"Don't you know their motto?" he said. " 'Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night shall stay us in the swift completion of the course assigned to us.' This Persian postal system is a wonderful invention; I don't see how any large empire could function without it."

I made him repeat the motto, and Vardanas confirmed it. We made a joke of it in the hipparchia. Every time a postman passed us, we all roared out in chorus: "Neither snow, nor rain ..." and so on.

We crossed the Indus without mishap on a raft which some local Indians ran as a ferry. As we advanced into Gandaria, we entered higher and drier country. The daily downpours faded away to clear blue skies, and the mosquitoes that had assailed us in myriads were left behind. We had to begin scouting for food for the elephant. Aias ate a greater weight of food than all the human beings in the party together. He consumed over two hundred Babylonian pounds of hay and vegetables every day. I began to feel sorry for Aristoteles.

We found Peukala, the capital of Gandaria under the Persians, still half ruined from its sack by Hephaistion's division. Sangaios, an Indian whom Alexander had made governor of the town, was rebuilding it little by little. He found enough hay to feed Aias for several days and recommended a guide to see us to Kaboura. This was a Paktyan trader named Kavis, who covered most of Gandaria on his trading trips and knew the dialects. Sangaios said:

"This man is half Persian, so you can probably trust him."

Kavis, as soon as he joined us, said: "You had better keep double watches and scout the land ahead of you. The hill tribes of Gandaria are fierce and independent folk. They like not strangers who pass through their land with fire and sword."

This seemed good advice. Something about the mere sight of Gandaria makes one look for trouble. It is dry, rocky, and mountainous to a terrifying degree. We have stony hills in Hellas, but compared to the Gandarian mountains they are mere piles of pebbles. These mountains are carved into fantastic shapes, making one think of legendary giants turned to stone but likely to turn back any time and crush one like an insect.

There is little sign of life other than dry bushes and a few scrubby trees in the gullies, lizards scuttling over the stones, and birds of prey wheeling against the deep blue sky. Betimes a hare darts across the road, or a man with keen sight espies a troop of wild goats or sheep on a crag. The native huts of stone and mud so blend with the landscape that one sees them not until one is almost upon them. The traveler in Gandaria, however, soon learns that, however empty the landscape looks, somewhere a pair of sharp black eyes is glaring from behind a rock, and a dirty brown hand is whetting a knife.

I told Vardanas to take his Dahas and ride ahead, searching up side roads and valleys and bringing back tidings at each stage of our journey. They raced off happily in a whirl of dust, for the Dahas had recovered their spirits on getting back to an arid country.

My health improved also, oddly enough because of our cook's incompetence. I was no longer tempted to overeat, as I had been by Hyovis' delicious repasts. Had I not feared loss of dignity before my men, I should have taken over the cook's task, which I could have performed far better than he.

The stony roads of Gandaria reduced our speed by half. Had we gone more swiftly, we should have worn down our horses' hooves faster than they grew. To spare the animals, instead of alternately walking and cantering them as we had been doing, we alternately rode at a walk and led the horses on foot. I held hoof inspection twice a day and dreamt of walking on red-hot sword blades at night.

The elephant, also, disliked the sharp stones. He minced along, grumbling, and refused to be hastened. We had our first real trouble with him on the second day out of Peukala. It befell in this way.

Although the Kophen River runs from Kaboura to Peukala, it makes a far-flung loop to the north ere it reaches the latter place. Therefore travelers, instead of following the Kophen all the way, go by a smaller stream, the Chaibara. This river, which pierces the mountains by a deep narrow pass, had been a brown torrent when I rode through the pass in the early spring with Hephaistion's division. Now, however, its bed was dry.

One enters the pass eighty furlongs from Peukala. For over two hundred furlongs the road winds through the pass. In places the going is easy enough, but elsewhere the road is hewn from the sides of precipices. In such straits there is not room for two horsemen to pass each other.

When we came to a place where the narrow road overlooked a steep drop, Aias pressed himself against the cliff wall and huddled there, squealing with terror. Kanadas coaxed him and Siladites prodded him with his goad. Both shouted "Malmal!" but to no avail. Aias, misliking cliffs, refused to malmal for all they could do.

After a quarter hour's trying had failed to budge the brute, Kanadas said: "Must push him, Troop Leader. You help."

I told off two strong camp servants and led them, teetering on the edge of the precipice, past Aias' legs. Kanadas, the servants, and I put our shoulders against Aias' hind legs. We grunted and heaved, but might as well have pushed against a pair of ancient oaks.

I thrust back my helmet to wipe the sweat from my brow. Thyestes squeezed past the elephant's legs to say: "Ea, Leon! A trader with a string of asses and a party of Gandarians afoot have halted foment our column. Fain would they know when yon great stirk will move so they can pass us."

I spread my hands. "He'll move when somebody thinks of a way of moving him."

"By Zeus, I can do that!" said Thyestes. He poked the elephant's haunch with his javelin, shouting: "Get up, son of a strumpet!" Aias screamed angrily and shook his head, so that poor Siladites had much ado to keep his perch on the creature's neck. Kanadas yelled:

"You stop that! If you hurt him, he kill you someday!"

Thyestes stopped. He was brave enough, but Kanadas was twice his size and bore a huge two-handed Indian sword with a blade thirteen palms long, which could take off a head as easily as lopping a daisy.

Vardanas, who now joined us also, said: "If the elephant keeps on rubbing against the bank, he will start a slide of loose rock. Then we shall really be in a strait."

"Papai! What is your idea, then?" I asked Kanadas.

"If we put hay on road ahead of him, he get hungry and come forward to cat," he said.

"How long will it take for him to get hungry enough?"

"Two, maybe three days."

"Herakles! We cannot wait so long, man. This fornicating beast blocks the road like the stopper in a bottle."

I sat down with my feet dangling over the cliff and tried to think what Xenophon would have done. In a way he had things easy. He had only ten thousand men to lead, not a moody monster like Aias.

Kavis, too, came back from the front of the column. He said: "Hipparch, a lord of the Andakans waits up front with his chariot for us to pass on."

I gestured at the elephant. "Can you make him move? None of us seems able to."

"Could we hitch ropes to him and all pull at once?"

"And where shall we get so much rope? It would take enough rope to rig a ship."

"True," he said. "That is a flaw in the plan."

Voices and the tinkle of bells drew my regard back along the road to India. Around the nearest bend came a string of camels. When a score were in sight, the leader stopped, and the others jammed up behind with moaning and gurgling cries. A trousered Gandarian hastened up and spoke to Kanadas. After some words had passed back and forth, Kanadas roared an epithet and reached for his sword.

"Hold!" I cried. "What is it, Kanadas?"

"He say, make fire under elephant! Bad, wicked thing to say!"

The caravan leader smiled doubtfully and spoke in Persian: "No harm meant. But you halt my seventy-three camels. Must I then go back to Peukala?"

"He did but jest," I said to the still fuming Kanadas. "After all, you have not thought of a better way to shift this mountain of meat."

"If this melon head does not mean bad things, he should not say them," growled Kanadas.

"Melons!" I cried. I jumped to my feet and kissed Kanadas, which startled him. "You have solved our problem. Has anybody a melon? Elisas! A melon!"

The sutler sadly went back to his provision cart and got one of the remaining melons out of our stores. "I was saving it for—" he began.

I cut him off and returned to Aias, silently thanking Apollon that we did not have to send a man all the way back to Peukala for melons while traffic piled up for leagues on either side of the Chaibara Pass.

"Come, Mahankal!" I said, holding out the melon. (The king might give the elephant a new name, but teaching the beast to answer to it was another matter.) As Aias reached for the melon, I backed beyond the length of his trunk. "Come, laddie; come, body; that's my goodman! Malmal!"

Aias shuffled forward with tiny steps, scraping against the cliff-side and bringing down small showers of earth and stones. As he came, I backed, calling over my shoulder for the rest of the column to move on and clear the way. For the next few furlongs the party moved in this uncouth fashion.

Then the road widened. Aias caught up to me in one long stride. Trying to augment my speed backwards, I caught my heel on a stone and fell on my back. The next thing I knew, the elephant was right over me. I cried out and shut my eyes, expecting to be squashed as flat as a sheet of papyrus. When something wet struck my face, I thought I was on my way to join the shades in Hades.

Feeling no pain, I opened my eyes. Aias still stood over me. The wetness, however, was not my gore but melon juice that ran down from his chin as he ate.

I got up amidst general laughter. Even Kanadas, who seldom found anything funny in life, smiled. Betimes I thought that the gods took particular pleasure in wreaking indignities on me. I am naturally sober and dignified; but, whenever I try to present a noble front to the world, something like this melon farce occurs.

Still, it does no good to fret and fume. Instead, one must feign as much mirth as the rest. Therefore, I gave a hearty if not heartfelt laugh and set the column back in marching order.

We passed the trader with the asses, the Gandarians on foot, and the squire with the chariot, who had a pair of well-armed outriders. We drew ahead of the camel train.

I found that I knew not the form of the pass, save in a general way, for on my earlier passage I had been over-busied with keeping the troop in order to heed such matters. I therefore asked Kavis:

"How far is it to the end of the pass?"

He smiled. "Two leagues or a little more. We shall reach it by nightfall."

We plodded on for at least three leagues. Night fell, but there was no sign of the end of the pass.

"We shall get there early tomorrow," said Kavis. "It is not more than a league beyond this point. Set a strong watch, for the Chaibara Pass is a favored place for hillmen to rob travelers."

Next day we were up and moving before the sun. Aias balked several times, until it became a question of which gave out first, the pass or our supply of melons. At the top of the pass the gorge opened out into a saddle, from which I saw an immense distance. Wherever I looked, there was nought but this frightful wilderness of towering peaks and tumbled crags. Kavis kept telling me that the end of the pass was but a few furlongs further until I shouted:

"Auramasdatai zata bia!" which means "May God smite you." I added: "You are a dog-faced liar. According to your promises, we have already cleared the end of the pass a dozen times over!"

He spread his hands and smiled cheerfully. "But, lord, had I told you how long the pass really is, it would have made you sad and fainthearted. As it is, you have marched joyfully, believing the end to be only beyond the next turn."

Not knowing whether to strike the impudent fellow or to laugh, I turned away. This, I found, is a habit of the Gandarians, when asked how far anything is. Either they have a misguided sense of politeness, or they know no distance accurately. I suspect the latter, for the Persian league is not a fixed length. It is, instead, the distance one can walk in one hour. Hence it may be any length from twenty-five to thirty-five furlongs, depending on the walker and on the ground. The only way to be sure of any distance in Asia is to measure it off oneself, as Baiton and his colleagues were doing.

We camped in the pass for a second night. Next morning we had more trouble with the elephant, but luckily our last melon got him through the last tight place. Then the pass opened out into a stony plain. There was a postal station like a little fort at the end of the pass, where relay horses were kept for the postmen. Behind the station stood a huddle of mud huts with a few mulberry trees.

Whilst the hipparchia rested, I went into the postal station, made myself known to the postmaster, and wrote a letter to the king. I told Alexander this road was more suited to goats, or better yet eagles, than to elephants. Thereafter I tried to keep a few spare fruits for Aias in our stores whenever we traveled through mountains.

When I had signed and sealed my letter, I came out to find a group of Thessalians cutting up a fresh-killed sheep and preparing to cook it.

"What's this?" I said.

"We bought it in the village," said one of them, Polygonos of Iolkos. "You said we might rest for an hour."

The looks that the men gave each other made me wary. I said to Kavis: "Come with me."

In the village I found the headman and said to Kavis: "Translate my words with care. I wish to know how much was paid for that sheep my men are eating."

The headman broke into a stammering, stumbling spate of speech. Kavis said:

"It was not paid for. Two of your men threatened to kill a villager if they were not given it."

"I thought so! Tell him to come and point out the thieves."

The headman looked frightened. Kavis said: "He fears to do so, lest they return to slay him."

It took some persuasion to make the man come. Kavis said: "Do you really mean to punish these men, Lord Leon?"

"I shall carry out the king's orders."

Kavis shook his head. "Imras save me! Your king must indeed be a god, or else a little mad. In all the years of the Persian Empire, I do not think any official ever paid for what he took from a villager.

I hoped to visit some of my old enemies and seize their goods as a king's man."

The headman pointed out Polygonos and one other man, Geres of Lapathos, whom I at once had seized and flogged. I gave the headman ten drachmai and dismissed him. Howsomever, for the rest of our stay he hovered as close to me as my own shadow, fearing that, if he got out of my sight, the Thessalians I had punished would kill him.

Later that day, our road rejoined the Kophen. Here we halted to bathe, for our march through the pass had laid a thick layer of dust on our skins. That is, the Thessalians and their families bathed. As we stripped on the bank, I saw that Kavis, Vardanas, and the Dahas had not joined us. They stood apart with eyes averted, looking like men blushing for shame, though we were all burnt so brown that no blush could be seen.

"Will you no bathe, too?" I said. "It costs us nought."

"I pray you will excuse me, Troop Leader," said Vardanas. "To us, such an act seems highly immodest. Moreover, no Persian would bathe in running water. We hold rivers sacred and not to be defiled by human offscourings and waste."

"Suit yourselves," I said. "Stand guard over the rest of us, then."

Since Indians do not share the Asiatic superstition that it is indecent to appear naked in public, Kanadas plunged in with us. So did Siladites when Kanadas relieved him of the care of the elephant.

The road ran along the south side of the Kophen into Paktuika. Here the valley of the Kophen is a sandy desert, bare save where the Paktyans irrigate it to grow wheat and mulberry trees. Distant mountains hem the flatland like walls: the Indian Caucasus to the north, its high peaks snow-capped even in summer, and a smaller range to the south. We found the hot winds so oppressive that, on Kavis' advice, we slept through the heat of the day and marched in the early morn and late even instead.

Finding a camp site became a subject of hot dispute. It began the morning of the second day after we rejoined the Kophen. Thyestes said:

"Leon, yonder's a bonny place to camp. See the broken rock that runs halfway round it for a defense, and that little peak where the sentry can sit?"

"Aye, it pleases," I said, and gave the signal to halt.

Kanadas, riding the elephant, came up to the head of the column and loomed over me. He leaned down and said: "You stop here, Troop Leader?"

"Yes."

"No good."

"Why not, man?"

"No shade for elephant. He get hot in middle of day, get sick, fall down dead."

"By the!" said Thyestes. "What's the big black Kyklops havering anent the now?"

When I translated, Thyestes said: "Sunstroke, on a great beastie like that? The wight's daft; dinna heed him."

"He knows more about elephants nor you do, laddie, and our task is to get this one to Athens alive and hale."

"Our first duty," said Thyestes, "is to see our throats be not cut by wild highlanders."

"What he say?" said Kanadas. "He think it no matter if my beautiful Mahankal die of sun? Just wait till I get down—"

"Oh, bugger the surly sumph!" cried Thyestes. "He'll let us be fordone to keep his pet cool—"

"Silence!" I shouted. "One more word and I'll take a fine out of your next pay. Now hear me. We must find a site both shady and defensible. You, Kanadas, shall ride beside Thyestes at the front of the column. When the twain of you agree on a place to camp, let us know."

Kanadas mounted the horse that Siladites had been riding and jogged beside Thyestes. They glared at each other, for they had been on bad terms ever since Thyestes speared the elephant in the Chaibara Pass.

The first result of my experiment was that we marched all day without stopping. Whichever pointed to a site, the other thought it worthless. Their collaboration was further hindered by the fact that they had about twenty words in common, and I refused to act as interpreter. Forbye, Thyestes followed the Greek habit of wagging his head for "yes" and tossing it for "no." As Kanadas' custom was the opposite, sign language only deepened the confusion. The rest of us roared with laughter to watch the pair struggling to carry on their feud in the face of these handicaps. It was suppertime when, weeping tears of rage, they at last agreed on a camp site.

Thereafter we learned to look for a grove or a sheltering cliff for each daytime halt. When it was a grove, Aias would spend his rest in tearing off branches and pulling them through his mouth, stripping them of leaves, till the oasis was spoilt for the next wayfarer. I had, however, enough concerns of my own, let abee taking on those of other travelers.

With practice, Kanadas' Persian became fluent, and he even picked up a few phrases of Greek. The man had a natural gift for languages, of which, however, he made little use, remaining aloof and distant. When not weeping for homesickness, he complained about the weather, the food, the road, and aught else that came to his mind.

His low-caste companion, Siladites, was the opposite: a cheerful, friendly man who could learn no foreign language, however hard he tried. He would memorize a word of a phrase and then next day weep with vexation to find he had forgotten it. Hence his communion with us was almost limited to signs.

On the twenty-fifth of Hekatombaion, we were jogging past the place where the Chavaspes flows into the Kophen from the north. Here the valley of the Kophen narrows and the mountains close in. Down the valley of the Chavaspes runs a crude road that crosses the Kophen by a ford. We were nearing this ford, and Vardanas was away scouting, when Pyrron rode up beside me and spoke. He had to speak twice to get my attention, because he had the habit of muttering and whispering to himself. This habit disconcerted his comrades until they learnt to ignore it and Pyrron, too.

"Oblige me by translating, old fellow," he said. "I would question the guide."

"Say on," I said, as Kavis came up on the other side. Pyrron said: "Have you ever heard of a book on foreign countries by a man named Herodotos?"

"No, but go on."

"He said that in Paktuika live enormous ants, as big as dogs, which, in excavating their burrows, bring gold to the surface of the earth. He asserted, further, that the Paktyans approach these burrows in the heat of the day, when the ants are underground. They scoop up the gold and flee on fast camels before the ants can devour them. Now, inquire of Kavis if this be true. I missed Paktuika on my way east, being up north with the king, and have wondered about these ants."

I told the tale to Kavis in Persian. (My Persian was becoming fluent with practice, if not correct.) He laughed and said: "My ancestors invented that story to keep the Great King from stealing our gold. There is a little gold in the streams of Paktuika, which we get by swirling the gravel with water around in a bowl. As for the so-called ants, there are some of their burrows now!"

Kavis pointed to some little black dots at the base of a nearby hill. When I looked closely, I saw these to be the holes of the mountain mouse, an animal about the size and shape of a beaver but with a short bushy tail. There is nought in the least antlike about them.

The guide went on: "The tale was put abroad in the time of the first Dareios, and the Persians believed it for twenty or thirty years. Then, in the reign of the first Artaxerxes, an agent of the Great King came upon some of our people washing gold from the streams. The sight aroused his suspicions, and he tarried long enough to settle the true nature of these 'ants.'

"When Artaxerxes learned the truth, he was wroth indeed. You see, the whole purpose of the Persian Empire was to grind the last bit of gold and silver out of poor folk like us. For years, the government had not been getting so much as they might, had they known the true state of affairs. So the Great King sent an army to take vengeance on us who had flouted him—"

I never learned the outcome, for there came an interruption. A horseman appeared, galloping towards us on the road along the Chavaspes.

This newcomer had been richly dressed in Indian garb. Now his clothes were tattered, and a bandage encircled his head. He plunged into the Kophen and cantered across the ford, throwing up fountains of spray. He stopped at the foot of the slope that separated us from the river and raised an arm, while his steed panted and blew foam.

"Are you King Alexander's men?" he shouted in bad Persian.

I said: "Yes. Who are you?"

"Sasigouptas, viceroy of Gandaria. The Assakenians have revolted and slain their governor. Some are after me." He pointed back along his tracks. "There they are!"

A group of horsemen came into sight far up the valley, riding hard. Sasigouptas continued:

"I ride for Peukala to send word to the king. You must hold these rebels. Fight to the last man!"

He raised his voice to a scream and spurred his horse. Away he went, torn cloak flapping and gravel flying.

"Imras preserve us!" said Kavis. "I will fight for you, but then you must pay me a bonus on our reckoning."

I was not much taken with the viceroy's order to stand and die while he fled to safety, though on reflection it was plain that somebody did have to carry word to Peukala. I watched the Indian grow small in the distance and disappear around a bend, while the Assakenians drew nearer. There was no sign of Vardanas and the Dahas.

My first thought was of flight, but then neither the mule carts nor the elephant could keep up with us, and they would be taken by the rebels. We faced a hard choice. I called the men to attention and said:

"Heely, lads! Rebel tribesmen are galloping down upon us. An we flee, we might get clean away, but the carts with our wives and bairns could no. An we stand, 'twill be a hard fight, as there's mae of them than of us. But we ken that Fortune helps the brave. Not only are Thessalians bonnier fighters than any mere foreigners, but also our weapons are muckle better. We have armor of bronze and leather and canvas; they have nought but the rags they wear. We have swords and spears of keen iron; they have but sharpened wooden poles. We have training and discipline; they are but rabble. Will we fight?"

The men looked at their families. One said "Fight!" and soon all were shouting: "Fight the thieving limmers! Screed them! Slay them!"

"That's my braw buckies," I said. "Arm, then, and hurry! Throw fear to the wind! Iai for Thessalia!"

The men swarmed about the carts in which they had piled their fighting gear. I saw I had erred in letting them disarm because of the heat, for their helmets and canvas corselets were all jumbled, and they wasted time scrambling for them. I feared they would have to fight half armed, thus giving our advantage in armament to the Assakenians. However, the clearness of the Gandarian air is deceptive; our foes were much farther away than they looked.

I talked over our plan of battle with Thyestes. "An we stand in line on the crest of this bank," I said, "we can shower those wights with javelins as they come up. They'll be slowed by the water and then by the slope. Later we can charge down and possibly turn them while they mill around."

Thyestes said: "What for no using our old lozenge formation? We could split the knaves into fragments."

"Na, there's no enough of us. The lozenge would have only four or five men on a side and be swallowed up."

"Well then," he said, "it would help gin the servants ran down ahint us with spears."

"What good can they do?"

"They can push in atween us and stab the foreigners' horses and pull the men from the saddle. We shall have a gey thin line."

I said: "The grooms shall form a second mounted line. I doubt the servants will do much serious fighting, but we have nought to lose by trying it. You!" I said to Pyrron, who sat with his traveling hat shading his face as if none of this concerned him. "How will you fight?"

"Who, me?" he said.

"Aye, you! Or did you no think they'd cut your throat as soon as the next man's?"

"Dear me," he said, "it never occurred to me. But I suppose I ought to do something."

"What weapons can you handle?"

"It were better if I fought on foot. I've had heavy-infantry training, since I was neither wealthy enough nor proficient enough a horseman to apply for the Eleian cavalry."

"Lead the servants, then," I said. "Take a javelin and one of those bucklers."

I armed Pyrron with misgivings, because, though a tall well-built man, he was so awkward and unhandy that he was likely to trip over his own feet and skewer himself. I turned to Kanadas. "You and Siladites don your quilts and get up on the elephant with plenty of javelins."

I told him our plan and added: "When we advance, Aias shall charge out from the right end of our line and circle round to take the Assakenians in flank."

I had to repeat everything, until at last he said: "Yes, I understand. I do that."

I kept looking up the Kophen for Vardanas and his horse archers.

Probably, I thought with bitterness, if they did see us attacked they would run for home. But what could one expect of foreigners?

The men got their gear sorted out at last, and I drew them up. I gave each horseman three javelins instead of the usual two.

Now the Assakenians were close enough for me to make out what they were like. There were about eighty or ninety big men, most of them bareheaded and clad mainly in goatskins, and riding small horses. Their long black hair floated behind them. The man in the lead wore a plain bronzen helmet, but otherwise there was no sign of armor in the lot. The usual weapon was a wooden lance with the tip sharpened and fire-hardened, though they also had a few proper metal axes and spears.

As the clatter grew louder, I walked Golden up and down in front of my troop. A wise commander does this less to watch the enemy than to watch his own men, lest they steal quietly away and leave him to fight his battle alone. Not that my brave Thessalians would have done such a thing, but the camp servants and grooms might well have stolen off without my eye upon them. Pyrron stood among them, leaning on his dart with his usual look of vague good nature. I saw that Elisas, the sutler, had disappeared, but the rebels were too close to go hunting for him. I led the Thessalians in a short prayer to Ares.

When the Assakenians neared the ford, I took my place in the center of the line and poised a javelin. The enemy neither turned down the Kophen after Sasigouptas nor tried to parley. They galloped straight through the ford, yelling and screaming. Evidently the sight of our cockscomb crests was enough. The Assakenians, I heard later, had sworn undying enmity to all Hellenes because of Alexander's massacre of the men of Massaga.

I called: "Ready! Cast!" I was a little too quick, so that some of our first volley fell short.

"Ready! Cast!" This time we could not miss. There was disorder amongst the Assakenians as men and horses fell into the stream. Our horses fidgeted with excitement.

I shifted my remaining javelin to my right hand and cried: "Charge!" I spurred, swearing to kill Vardanas someday for his desertion.

The men shouted: "Eleleleu!" Down we rushed, one thin line of twenty horsemen, followed by the eight grooms and then by the servants afoot.

Kanadas sent the elephant shuffling down the bank towards the flank of the foe, as planned. However, the nearest Assakenian, seeing the monster looming over him, threw his lance. He aimed for the eye but missed. The point pierced the elephant's cheek and wounded his tongue. The elephant screamed, wheeled, and ran off down the river, despite the efforts of Siladites to turn him by beating him over the head with the elephant goad.

Now that we were bereft of our flanking force, there was nought to do but try to turn the attackers by sheer mettle. I aimed for the leader in the helmet and he for me. We met. I knocked the point of his spear aside with my buckler, whilst he avoided the thrust of my javelin by a sudden movement. As his spear went to my left and mine to his, we found ourselves in close embrace. The horses plunged on past each other, with the result that the twain of us, still clutching each other, slid off over their tails.

The next thing I knew, the hostile leader and I were grappling knee-deep in water. Each of us dropped his spear and tried to draw his sword, whilst the other strove to prevent him.

By a quick catch of his heel, the Assakenian tripped me. I fell backwards, lost my grip on his sword arm, and went under. When I got my face above water again, the Assakenian was already swinging his sword in its fatal arc. All around us, horses' legs were stamping and men were struggling and screaming. The Assakenians shouted "Gis! Gis!"

I tried to scramble away and draw my own sword, but I was hours too slow. I caught the chief's first blow on my shield, but the impact, helped by the clutch of the stream on my legs, knocked me off my feet again.

The Assakenian lunged, reaching for my beard with his left hand. Then he twisted, showed his teeth in a grimace of pain, and fell on me.

When I found my footing again, I saw Pyrron thrusting a javelin into the submerged body of the Assakenian leader. As he jerked the weapon out he drove the butt into my midriff. Although my corselet saved me from serious hurt, the blow took my breath away.

The forest of horses' legs had gone from around us. The mass of fighters moved back across the ford, and soon the Assakenians fled back up the road by which they had come. The servants, who had run forward under Pyrron's leadership, were left behind and now went about spearing wounded rebels. The water was rust-colored with mud and blood.

"What—what befell?" I asked when I stopped coughing.

Pyrron pointed to a half-submerged body with a Sakan arrow sticking in its back. "Our friends opportunely returned," he said.

I looked towards the pursuers and saw the pointed caps of our Dahas. Thyestes blew the recall, and our men collected by twos and threes. There was Vardanas with a broad smile and brains dripping from his spiked club. From down the river came the elephant. Aias had pulled the spear out of his face with his trunk and returned at a slow walk, moaning and drooling blood.

Pyrron told me: "The Persian and the Dahas returned while you were hoofing around in the stream. They halted a few paces from the Assakenians and began shooting. The foreigners flinched away from the tempest of arrows, and that started the whole lot retreating. That, and the demise of their leader."

As he spoke, he waved his javelin with enthusiasm. I had to duck to avoid getting the point in my face. I said:

"O Pyrron, you have saved my life, and I'm grateful. Now please put that thing back in the cart ere you slay me with it." As Vardanas rode up I said: "That was a timely arrival, laddie. I feared you had left us."

Vardanas pursed his lips angrily. He replied: "I gave you my word, did I not?"

"Are you saying that when you Persians talk of keeping your word of honor, you really mean it?"

"Be not more Greek than you can help! Of course we mean it. At least I do."

Well, as we say at home, it is better to learn late than never. I said: "My friend, I was wrong and you are right. You are a gentleman and a warrior, and I'm proud to know you. I would fain clasp your hand in the Persian manner to pledge our friendship."

He smiled and gripped my hand.

Eight Assakenians lay dead. We had many wounds, but only one man dead and one likely to die. The dead man was a camp servant whose head had been split by an Assakenian ax as he tried to pull the foreigner from his horse. The sorely wounded was a Thessalian, Zethos of Larissa, pierced through corselet and chest by a wooden lance. His comrades helped him to the bank, where he lay, coughing up bloody foam. As usual, the losing side had lost out of proportion, because men slightly disabled were caught and finished off when their comrades fled.

I said to Thyestes: "See that all wounds are cleansed and bound, and send men to pick up the fallen weapons. I'm going to look for our braw sutler."

"Ea! D'you mean the cowardly coof has fled? Give me the slitting of his throat!"

I found Elisas behind a rock not thirty paces from the bank. When he saw my look, he ran. Because of his slight build he drew ahead of me until a Thessalian threw a javelin whirling against his legs and tripped him. I caught his arm as he got up, and began to beat him.

"Mercy, great lord!" he screamed. "I am no warrior! Not hired to fight!"

"Hold him, lads," I said. "He jerks so I canna get a good swing at him."

Two Thessalians held him whilst I swung my javelin with both hands until I was tired and Elisas hung limply. When they dropped him, he crept off moaning and half fell down the bank of the river. He doffed his tunic and bathed the welts on his back, still weeping and muttering Syrian curses.

"Next time, dung man," I said, "obey." I turned to Kavis, who was binding a small leg wound. "How far to Kasipapoura?"

"Less than a league. If you do not mind marching in the heat, we can reach it by noon."

"Is this another of your Gandarian leagues, that stretches and shrinks like a lump of warm pitch?"

He laughed. "No indeed; we can almost see my city from here."

I ordered the men to place Zethos in one of the carts and make him easy.

"His lung is pierced," said Thyestes. "Aweel! I misdoubt he'll die."

"That's up to Fate." I said. "Let's be off, ere another rebel army come upon us."

Kasipapoura lies a few furlongs west of the junction of the Kophen with the Chavaspes. I first saw it over the orchards and wheat fields that the Paktyans grow by a far-reaching system of irrigation ditches. Kavis said:

"Yonder is a good place to camp, by the river. Whilst you set up your tents, I shall ride home to ready a feast for you and your officers. You, Hipparch, shall stay the night at my house. I would invite all, were my place big enough. Is it well?"

"It is well," I said. Off went Kavis at a gallop. I sent the sullen Elisas after him on a mule to buy food for our people and beasts.

We set up our tents and crawled into them. I was just falling asleep when a sentry roused me.

"Troop Leader!" he said. "A man asks to speak to you."

The man was fat, ill-favored, and jingling with turquoise ornaments. He was, he said, Toragas, the leading man of Kasipapoura. When I could not understand his scraps of Persian, Vardanas crawled out of his tent to help. At length Vardanas said:

"He says Kavis is an evildoer, a very daiva. Kavis, he avers, has lured us hither so his men can fall upon us and slay us. For ten talents of silver he will protect us from the wicked Kavis. Nay more, he will entertain us at his palace. There we shall enjoy the pleasures of Bishta, the Gandarian paradise."

Even had the fellow's tale been true, the amount he asked was absurd. I said: "Say we thank him but can take care of ourselves."

The man spoke again, in tones of menace. Vardanas said: "He warns us we had better pay him for protection. There are many all-daring rogues among the Paktyans who would cut our throats for nought but our weapons, let alone for our treasure."

"What treasure? He knows nought of what we have. Tell him to begone."

The man went. I tried to sleep again but could not for worry over Toragas' warning. Kavis had done well for us, but one could never be sure with foreigners.

Two or three hours later, as I was falling asleep for the second time, Kavis came back. "All is ready," he cried. "Follow me. You too, Kanadas."

Kanadas said: "You no angry if I no eat?"

"The more fool you; but come anyway. Bring some grooms to hold your horses outside the city, Hipparch, as our streets are too narrow for riding."

Kavis led Kanadas, Vardanas, Pyrron, and me to the city. Thyestes had to stay with the detachment. Kavis led us through the gate, exclaiming: "Is this not the most beautiful city in the world?"

Compared to Babylon, or even Taxasila, Kasipapoura was a mere huddle of hovels, made even less winsome by heat, dust, and flies. Howsomever, I forbore to wound our host by untimely candor.

"It is indeed beautiful," I said.

"What a dreadful hole!" said Pyrron in Greek.

"He, too, thinks it beautiful," I said. Vardanas caught my eye and burst into a fit of coughing.

"I rejoice that you know true beauty," said Kavis. "Here is our dancing stage, where we dance and vote on tribal matters ..." He went on to tell of their democratic government.

"In fact," he said, "all that keeps Kasipapoura from being a paradise on earth is my foe Toragas, who lives on the other side of town. My family has been at feud with his for generations."

I was about to mention Toragas' visit when Kavis said: "Here we are. Enter and use my house as your own."

Like the other larger houses in Kasipapoura, Kavis' house was built like a small fortress. We entered through a gate that looked as if it would keep out elephants and found ourselves in a courtyard decked with a rose garden. Kavis proudly showed off his roses, though compared to the gardens of the lordly houses of Persia it was a dismal little show. We sat down on a rug in the courtyard.

There were two other men, the headman of Kasipapoura, Outamer, and the commandant of the Greek garrison, Laomedon of Keos. Alexander had left thousands of such Greek mercenaries in garrisons on his march to India. Kavis also presented us to his two wives and three daughters.

I told Laomedon of Zethos' plight and asked: "Have you decent quarters where I could leave him?"

"Let's see," said Laomedon. "You carry this man's advance pay, do you not?"

"Aye." I thought it better to say nought of Zethos' discharge bonus. "If you leave his pay with him, he'll be welcome. If he live, we shall need him, in case the Assakenians come hither. My command is no larger than yours, though I am supposed to rule the most insolent, truculent race on earth. Whereas if he die ..." Laomedon cocked an eyebrow at me, as if to say that then the money would be put to good use. "However, we'll take good care of him. We have no physicians, but, with a lung wound, prayer is as good as aught they can do."

Kavis' wives and slaves passed the wine. Soon we all felt at ease. Laomedon and the headman insisted on the story of the battle. I told my version, and then they asked Vardanas for his. The silly man shamed me by giving the true numbers of the Assakenians, which I had swollen for the sake of the tale—not much, only to double their true size. These Persians, who spoil a good story for the sake of a few facts!

I forgave Vardanas, though, when he praised my generalship. "In truth," he said, "it was the plan that Arsites used at the Granikos. He was an able general, too."

I said: "You puzzle me, Vardanas. Did not Arsites lose the battle of the Granikos? I missed it, because I joined Alexander later, at Gordion. But I've heard many tales of this fight."

"I was in the thick of it," said Vardanas. "True, Arsites lost, but only because he fought against the genius of Alexander and the will of Auramasdas."

"How so?"

"Like this," said Vardanas, taking a handful of coins from his wallet and setting them on the rug to denote the units at the Granikos. "Let this dareikos be Arsites; let this golden stater Alexander be. Arsites' plan was to stand on this high bank, as you did, and ply the foe with darts as they came. One charge we turned back with heavy loss. Then Alexander led the next charge." He moved his coins.

"Foreseeing this, Arsites had told his officers that, if all else failed, they must stop the Macedonian invasion by killing Alexander. Therefore, when our remaining javelins failed to halt the attack, Arsites led his officers straight at the Macedonian, to slay him or die trying.

"Well, you know what happened. All the Persian generals but Arsites himself perished in the hacking and stabbing around Alexander. And this is why I say the gods took a hand. For Alexander sustained blows that would have slain any mortal. They were dealt by mighty warriors who had fought from the sands of Egypt to the snows of Sogdia. Yet Alexander came through with nought but a few scratches. Not that Alexander is not a doughty fighter, small though he be. But no man could have withstood the onset of so many brave and well-armed foemen at once without divine help."

"The way I heard it," said Laomedon, "the Persian horse deserted their Greek mercenary foot and fled before the battle was decided."

"You heard wrong," said Vardanas. "We withdrew when all our leaders were slain or wounded, and the Macedonian foot assailed our flanks with their long pikes, and Memnon's Hellenes failed to aid us. If there was any deserting, it was the other way round."

Laomedon asked: "Why did Arsites put his Hellenes behind the horse, where they could do little?"

"He trusted Memnon not," said Vardanas. "And later I suppose he was too busy fighting to send an order to Memnon. But Memnon should have advanced on his own."

"I ken the answer to that," I said. "Alexander ordered his raiding parties not to touch Memnon's estates. Naturally, the Persians thought there must be an understanding between them."

Vardanas sighed. "Against such subtlety, what could we simple, straightforward Persians do?"

"Anyway it was a good fight," said Laomedon. "Let us drink to the shades of all who fell in it, Greek or Persian."

Kavis' household set wooden platters in front of us. Thereon they placed big slabs of Gandarian bread. These look like round pieces of leather but are better by far than the bread our cook made, which was either soggy or iron-hard. On the bread they put cuts of mutton, with side dishes of cucumbers and dates. We finished with melons and a kind of cake the Paktyans make of mashed mulberries.

When the twilight faded, Kavis' other guests reeled off into the dark, singing and shouting. All, that is, but Kanadas. Having drunk little and eaten nought, the Indian remained as dour and grave as always. Kavis showed me to my chamber, where a bird in a cage squawked once at me and then went back to sleep.

I was falling asleep when a racket brought me up again. I donned my shirt and went out. In the courtyard stood Kanadas, Vardanas, and Pyrron, Vardanas holding his head and Pyrron nursing an arm wound. Kanadas held, by its long black hair, a Gandarian head. Kavis bent to examine the face of the head by torchlight.

"It is Viden, one of Toragas' horse boys," said Kavis.

"Men attacked us in a dark street," said Pyrron. "Kanadas routed them. Help me with this bandage."

"I see," I said, and told of Toragas' visit to our camp.

"Why did you not tell me before?" cried Kavis. "I should have known the drouz would try something."

"I meant to, but other things came up and I forgot. I suppose he hoped, by killing my men, to make me give in to his demands."

"Partly. But he is also wroth because I got the task of guiding this noble party and have guested a friend of the great king. This gives me honor and will help to re-elect Outamer, my family's candidate for mayor. Therefore, Toragas tries to shame me by harming you whilst you are under my protection. If you will fetch your soldiers whilst I arm my household, we will storm Toragas' house and put all in it to the sword."

"No, thank you," I said. "Much as I should like to kill Toragas, duty comes before pleasure. I shall go back to camp with my men this time, to make sure they meet no more ambuscades. But it would oblige me if you sent some men with torches."

Kavis not only sent two of his men, but also came himself with another torch. This time there were no alarums. Pyrron told me the story:

"We left Outamer and Laomedon at their homes and set out for the gate. But, ah—'inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind,' had rendered us unsteady. Without a moon, we got lost in these irregular streets, and six or eight men assaulted us with knives and clubs. Vardanas received a knock from a cudgel. My sword got tangled in my cloak, and an attacker dealt me this flesh wound—"

"You dealt it to yourself, you left-hander!" said Vardanas.

"Be that as it may, the sober Kanadas, like 'mighty Aias, a host all by himself,' brought out his great sword and rushed roaring upon the foe. He sheared through their clubs like straws. He severed the head from one and an arm from another. When a third was cut half through at the waist, the rest made off."

Vardanas said: "Let us take up Kavis' offer, to storm Toragas' house. Our honor demands it."

"Nay," I said. "With two or three of them dead, against but a couple of trivial hurts on our side—"

"Trivial hurts, phy!" said Vardanas, fingering the lump on his skull.

Zethos lingered, neither mending nor dying, until I left him at the house that Laomedon had turned into a barrack. I asked the others to withdraw whilst I bade him farewell.

"Do you hear and understand, laddie?" I said softly.

Zethos opened his eyes and wagged his head in affirmation.

"Then hearken. I have your bonus, but I shall take it with me. An I leave it here the now, Laomedon might slit your weasand to possess it. D'you ken what I mean?"

Again he gave a faint shake of his head.

"When you get back to Hellas, seek me out and I'll pay you. An I be not in Atrax, my kin will know whither I've gone."

Zethos smiled faintly. I kissed him and said: "Pheu, lad, it gars me greit to leave you, but 'tis your best chance. Fare you well!"

I kept his talent separate from my own funds for years, but Zethos never came to claim it. I know not what befell him: whether he died in Kasipapoura, or perished in the treacherous massacre of the homeward-bound Hellenes by Peithon's Macedonians after Alexander's death, or suffered some other doom.

The valley of the Kophen remained narrow for our first day's march from Kasipapoura. Then the valley opened out again. A new moon appeared, marking the onset of the month of Metageitnion.

At Thyestes' suggestion, I raised a Thessalian to double-pay trooper so that he could act as Thyestes' deputy. This was Klonios of Skotoussa, a mature old war horse who had fought well at the Chavaspes.

On the third of the new month we reached Kaboura, the Orthospana of the Persians. This town stands in a corner of a plain, above the fork of the Kophen, where spurs come down from neighboring mountains on either hand.

As we passed through the gate, a crowd of idlers and beggars gathered. The loafers gauped at the elephant and the beggars cried their one Greek word: argyrion*(* Money.) which they pronounced, "Giroun! Giroun!"

I asked Kavis: "Where shall we find the commandant?"

Kavis pointed to a castle that loomed over the town from a nearby crag. "There the king put his garrison. And now I have kept my bargain. When you have paid me I shall leave you. Do not forget the help I gave in the battle!"

I counted out his money, with a liberal bonus. He said: "May you never tire!" and trotted off with a wave.

The rest of us threaded our way through the narrow streets towards the castle. When the crowd became so thick as to hinder us, Siladites prodded the elephant so that Aias raised his trunk and trumpeted. The throng gave back, falling over one another in their haste.

At the foot of the crag I found a path leading up to the stronghold, barred by a pair of heavy-armed Hellenes in full panoply. When I stated my business, one of them plodded up the path, craning his head back to look until he almost fell off the cliffside. Soon the commandant came clanking down.

"Hegias of Corinth am I," he said. "By the Dog! What will go through here next? A train of dragons and gryphons?"

I told him our problems. He directed me to a camping place and added: "Lay in plentiful supplies, Troop Leader, for there is no town of decent size till you reach Gazaka. As for a guide, I'll do what I can, though I trust no Gandarians."

We rested for a day, mended our gear, and scoured Kaboura for shoes for ourselves and food for Aias. The beast had lost some of the plump look he had at the start of the journey. Gathering whole talents of straw and leaves had become our heaviest chore. Kanadas said:

"He is not well. Needs good meal of elephant bread."

"You mean they feed bread to elephants?" I said.

"Yes. In Sindou, make special bread, big loaves like this." Kanadas held his hands a cubit apart.

In the late afternoon I was writing the king and thinking of the dinner to which Hegias had bidden me, when Thyestes and three Thessalians appeared, running from the town. As they came, I saw that the troopers bore armfuls of foliage. After them came a crowd of Gandarians with staves and knives.

I seized the trumpet and blew the alert. Thanks to my earlier drilling, the soldiers sprang to their war gear as if the demons of the waste were upon them. By the time the fugitives arrived, we had a line of mounted men, with the river in our rear and the Dahas at the ends of the line with arrows nocked.

The Gandarians stopped a score of paces away and milled, shouting.

"What say they?" I asked Vardanas.

"I do not know their speech. They shout something about Monis, a Gandarian god."

Thyestes gasped: "We were looking for foliage for the polluted elephant. We cut a puckle boughs from a wee tree, not knowing it stood by one of their wretched shrines—nought but a pedestal of rough timber with a great stone abune it. The loons began to waul, so we came away."

I had noticed these shrines before in Gandaria. Usually they had poles at the corners topped by human skulls and other trophies of raids. Without an interpreter, however, we could not explain our innocent intentions to the Kabourans, even supposing they would listen.

For most of an hour they churned about, coming as close as they dared, to scream, shake fists, and spit. More kept coming from the town until the throng far outnumbered us. Some of the newcomers bore spears and other weapons. Clods and stones began to fly. Our horses danced and reared as the missiles struck them. My men growled.

"Hold your rank!" I said. "Dinna cast even an insult at yon dogfaces afore I give the word!" But the men were getting so angry that I foresaw trouble in holding them.

Then a line of crested helmets and bronzen breastplates appeared behind the mob. Hegias' garrison marched into them from the rear, smiting and jabbing with spear butts. Panic seized the Gandarians, who fled off to the sides to avoid being surrounded.

The throng broke into small groups and single men, who drifted away, pausing to shout parting curses. Hegias strode forward.

"What does this mean, Troop Leader?" he said. "Not seeing you when I expected and hearing a clamor, I turned out my men."

When I told about the tree, he burst out: "As if I hadn't enough grief with these murderous knaves, one of your lackwits has to tamper with a sacred grove! I ought to tell the barbarians to go ahead and slaughter you!"

After he had fumed for a while, he calmed clown and even fed the sacred branches to the elephant. By the time I had climbed up to his crag, he was in a good humor once more. After dinner a Gandarian came in, a thin, stoop-shouldered man with a twitching eyelid, and a head shaven all over but for a scalp lock two palms long.

"This is Niliras," said Hegias. "He'll guide you to Alexandreia Arachotion."

"May you never tire!" said Niliras in broken Persian. "I great guide. Know all countries in world. Know all nations and tongues. You lucky to get me."

"What's that jabber?" said Hegias.

I translated, adding: "If this modest chappie be as good as that, he's a demigod in disguise."

Hegias snorted. "More likely he'll lead you over the edge of a cliff or into an ambuscade. But that's your worry, Hipparch."

"Is he then the best you could find?"

"What matters it? There's no point in seeking a better, for these ready-for-aughts are all like that. Can you be off tomorrow? After today's riot, it were foolish to stay longer than you must."