An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Three ARACHOTIA

By turning everybody to, I got my hipparchia on the road again before the following noon. We followed the south branch of the Kophen, traversing narrow gorges and crossing many tributaries. Ever we climbed and bore southward. We entered Thatagous, the name of which, according to Vardanas, means "Land of a Hundred Cows." In reality, we saw few kine, and those were little scrubby beasts that a Thessalian yeoman would sneer at.

As we passed the shoulder of a hill, Niliras pointed up and said: "There I ambushed an Andakan and slew him with a single arrow."

A little later, as we wound through an area of tumbled boulders, he said: "Here I killed four Assakenians in sleep. Two men, one woman, one child. Am I not wonderful?"

Still later, as we crossed the dry bed of an affluent, he said: "Here my brother and I caught Arachotian merchant apart from caravan. Ch-ch!" He drew his finger across his throat, grinning.

"Meseems you have slain many," I said.

"Oh yes, I mighty slayer! Best in my tribe!"

"How many have you murdered altogether?"

Frowning, Niliras counted on his fingers. "Man and woman in Gazaka—man north of Kaboura—man on west branch of Kophen— three men in Kapisa—woman and baby in Gorva—should I count baby, think you?"

"By all means."

"Then I have slain sixteen or seventeen; cannot remember which. I mighty hero, yes?"

"No doubt of it," I said, glancing at my sword to make sure it was handy.

"My father killed thirty-three before some dirty murderer slew him. Some day I beat his record. You lucky to have me for friend. Everybody not my friend, I kill."

"I will try to keep on your good side," I said.

"That easy. Pay me more money."

"We agreed on a certain amount, and that you shall have."

"You pay too little! Slave's pay for great hero like me! You pay more, or watch yourself!"

"To Zozouka with you!" I said, naming the Gandarian Tartaros.

Niliras screamed curses in his native tongue. Some Thessalians looked at him and hefted their darts. I laughed, and Niliras calmed down.

The sun was setting behind the western peaks when I ordered a halt, near another dry stream bed. Niliras rode forward and shouted that this would be the place to camp.

"See soft sand!" he cried. "Good for sleeping."

"Do not camp in the stream bed," said Vardanas. "A sudden storm might send a torrent down the bed and sweep us away."

"Stupid Persian!" said Niliras. "No rain this season!"

"I still think you had better camp out of the stream bed," said Vardanas. "Know you not the proverb: 'He who stops to tie his shoe in a dry river bed is lost'?"

As between a Persian gentleman and an all-abandoned Gandarian who boasted of his many murders, I chose the former's advice. Niliras sulked. Then he approached me, again demanding money. I became wroth.

"Get out!" I said. "I have given my answer. At the next word about pay, I will knock your teeth out."

"Then give me what you owe me now."

"Here." I handed him the two and a half oboloi I owed him for the day's work. I could have held back his pay till we reached Gazaka, but I was weary and wished to be rid of him.

Niliras snatched the coins, ran off a few paces, spat back at me, and shouted: "Ious take you, foreign dog! I fetch my tribe, kill you all and take treasure!"

He capered and shook his fists. I snatched a javelin and hurled it. The Gandarian avoided the cast by leaping aside. He ran after the dart, picked it up, and waved it.

"Now you lose spear too!" he screamed. "Stupid foreign slave, ia-ia-ia!" He ran up the hillside.

We all shouted. I ran after Niliras with my sword; some hurled javelins; a Daha got off a brace of arrows. But the Gandarian leapt up the rocks like a goat, bounding hither and yon so that all our shots missed. I chased him up the mountain but was soon halted by my pounding heart and puffing lungs. Niliras, now far above us, made an indecent parting gesture of defiance and vanished.

We kept a double guard at night thereafter but saw no more of Niliras.

The valley opened out into a broad plain, with little villages surrounded by crops. The post road to Gazaka was plain enough; we were in no danger of getting lost. The traffic, which had been light in the Kophen Valley, waxed thicker. Gandarian traders put their camels out to pasture in the spring and summer, and work them autumn and winter. They were now rounding up their beasts and making up their caravans.

Our difficulty was that, without a guide, we could not tell the villagers that we would pay for food and fodder. Hence the natives, seeing the glitter of our arms, feared that we should plunder them, as officials and soldiers everywhere are wont to do. The larger, walled towns slammed their gates and prepared for defense; whilst the people of the smaller, open hamlets fled to the hills, driving their little flocks before them.

Thus, when we found a village deserted, we helped ourselves to what food we could find, and I left a few small coins on the doorstep of the largest house for what we deemed fair payment. One day I found, after leaving such a village, that I had forgotten my knife in the square where we had eaten. I rode back and, on recovering my knife, discovered that the money I had left for the food had vanished. Someone in my party had taken it. After that I made sure of being the last to leave each village.

Another trouble was with shoes. As the stony roads had compelled us to wend afoot a deal of the time, so the walking had quickly worn through the soles of our thin riding shoes. As nobody in this part of the world makes a proper walking shoe, let alone an Iphikratean marching boot, my poor men had been reduced to patching their soles with any odd bits of leather, or wrapping their feet in rags. The horny-footed natives go barefoot in summer. In winter they wear a huge felt snow boot, which, as I found out by trial, is useless for a march like ours. And we had not stayed in Kaboura long enough to get ourselves decently shod.

To keep Aias from shrinking further, we cut more boughs from trees. I tried to spare fruit trees and trees near shrines but did not always succeed. In this arid land we often marched for hours without seeing a single tree.

The hills closed in again and the road ascended, until I found that exertion made me weak and dizzy. We crossed a broad saddle and started down the other side into the land of Arachotia. The Arachotian are smaller and darker than the Gandarians, but are much like them in their ways.

Nine days from Kaboura we reached Gazaka, a strong-walled city on a high, dusty tableland. Alexander renamed it Alexandreia Arachotion when he made it the new capital of Arachotia, but he named so many places "Alexandreia" or "Alexandropolis" that I think it will confuse my readers less if I use the native names, however uncouth they sound.

The main range of the Indian Caucasus, which runs north of the Kophen, bends around and sends a long branch southwestwards, west of Gazaka and Kaboura. The citadel of Gazaka is perched on the final hump of a spur of hills thrust out from this branch.

I asked for Menon, the viceroy of Arachotia, but learned that he was in Kandacha. Therefore I sought out the Greek commandant and got from him not only help, but also another guide. This was a pleasant-looking youth named Barmoukas. If a fair exterior be a silent recommendation, I thought, I should have less trouble with him. We also managed to buy a few pairs of wearable shoes.

When we set out from Gazaka, I took Barmoukas aside. "Some folk," I said, "think it clever to take on guide work at a pay agreed upon and then demand more as soon as they are out of sight of home.

Now, I have been all through this and will not abide it. The first word I hear of higher pay, you had better start running, for I shall be after you to beat you to a pulp."

"Yes, yes, I know," quoth he, all smiles. "Fear nought. I am soul of honor."

"So said your predecessor of himself. Mark well my words, fellow."

From Gazaka we wended south again along the bed of an intermittent stream. Albeit this stream was now dry, we could always strike water by digging into the stream bed. However, the heat waxed torrid as we descended from the heights of Gazaka until it became unbearable. We Hellenes went nude in the heat of the day, heedless of the shock to Asiatic modesty.

Now the stream we followed began to have water in it, so we took to the post road along the bank. Then we came to Lake Arachotis, fifty furlongs wide. On the west side of the lake stood a deserted city. One meets many such nameless ruins in Persia. Often they are the result of raids.

Whenever a nomadic tribe has a bad season, or simply gets bored with tending their flocks and crops, they plan a raid, as do the Aitolians in Hellas. They often travel vast distances in the course of such a raid. If they raided a nearby neighbor, there would be war; but, by raiding afar off, they hope to avoid retribution. The stronger Persian kings kept a curb on raiding, but under the weaker it always revived. At the time of my story there was much raiding and confusion in the empire, because many of Alexander's governors proved unworthy, and many evil folk supposed the king would march on eastward forever and never return to punish their crimes.

When the people of a Persian city have been wiped out or driven away by raiders, the city soon crumbles. The Persians, while vigorous builders, have little interest in keeping up a structure once built, and the winter rains soon eat away their mud-brick houses.

That night we slept in crumbling mud houses and next day followed the road into the valley of the east branch of the Arachotos River. Thence the road runs straight and clear for more than a thousand furlongs down this river.

Hitherto Barmoukas had guided us without complaint. Now, however, trouble arose. At the first camp after we had crossed the Arachotos, as I was inspecting the tents, I heard an uproar. I hastened to the edge of the river to find Barmoukas and Vardanas shouting and shaking fists, while the former held up his trousers with one hand.

"This filthy savage," said Vardanas, "was about to relieve himself in the river!"

"What difference, you stupid foreigner?" screamed Barmoukas. "It will all be washed away. Are you mad?"

"Rivers are sacred!" yelled Vardanas. "It is an offense against the gods to defile one!"

"Go on up the bank, well away from the river," I said to Barmoukas. Then I said to Vardanas: "Next time, be not so hasty to berate these fellows without speaking first to me."

The quarrel passed over, but thereafter Barmoukas' mien became sullen and sorrowful. At length I inquired:

"What ails you, man?"

"Working for a wage that would shame a slave," he said. "I am poor! I have three wives to support! I must have more money!"

I sighed and said to Thyestes: "Oblige me by fetching a mule whip. I have a beating to give."

"No! No!" cried Barmoukas. "I did but jest."

Next day he again began hinting at higher pay. I silenced him with an oath.

The day following he did it again. I dealt him a buffet that hurled him from his seat. He dragged himself back on his horse looking like Ious, the chief Gandarian demon, in an evil mood. Thereafter he muttered and scowled but said no more of a greater stipend.

The next day, when the sun was sinking behind the Indian Caucasus, we came to a town on a rocky shoulder that rises a plethron and a half from the side of the Arachotos. As with most cities in this land, the houses were arranged in an oblong, placed side by side so their mud-and-timber outer walls formed a continuous barrier, unpierced save by the gates and by loopholes. Two wooden spy towers rose from opposite corners of the oblong. The place looked like a hard one to take. I said to the guide:

"Is that not Haravatis?"

"It is," he said.

This, then, was the former capital of Arachotia under the Persians, who called both the province and its chief city Haravatis. As I use the Greek form for the province, I shall use the Persian word for the city to keep them distinct.

When we had crossed a small tributary, we met three women with water jars on their heads, coming down the path from the town on their way to the river. They stepped off the road to let us pass and stood, havering and pointing, until the elephant appeared around the shoulder. Then they dropped their pots and ran screaming back up the road to Haravatis.

"Come," I said to Barmoukas, and spurred after them. As I arrived at the top of the slope, before the front gate of the town, the whole population boiled out like bees from a hive. They began to crowd out the back gate and run for the hills.

One oldster with a missing foot could not keep up with the rest, though he hobbled along at a lively pace on his crutch. I rode after the throng out the rear gate and drew up before the cripple.

"Tell him to stop," I said. "Tell him we mean him no harm and will pay for food and fodder."

They talked. Barmoukas said: "They fear the great gray beast with two tails."

I bethought me that we were getting into lands that had seldom seen elephants. "The animal is harmless," I said. "We will pay those who gather straw and leaves to feed him."

I calmed the old man's fears by handing him a copper. Barmoukas said: "They would not have run had not most of their men been away on a raid."

"Tell him to fetch his folk back," I said, for I could see the heads of the Haravatians peeping out from behind rocks and shrubs.

The man stumped off. An hour later the townsfolk straggled back. Soon they began bringing fodder to Aias. At first they were almost reluctant to take their pay. Methinks they had never known an official to use them thus and feared some trick. Once they grasped the idea, however, they began shouting for more. The most exasperating thing about the Arachotians was that they were not used to coined money. Amongst themselves they trade by barter or by weighing out lumps of metal. Therefore, they insisted on weighing every coin. This in turn led to sharp disputes over scales and weights, further embittered by the fact that we could not speak directly to one another.

We had just settled ourselves when a new alarum arose. Shouts heralded the return of the raiders, trailing down the valley of the tributary in single file in the dusk. As they drew near, a great wailing and keening arose. I learned that fifty men had gone up the valley to raid another village, but they had been ambushed and lost three men without getting any loot. This return was hence a tragic occasion.

Soon the whole town was aboil. The kin of the slain men capered, screamed, beat their breasts, tore their hair, and banged their heads against the wall. The rest of the people shuffled and stamped in a war dance, crying on Gis for vengeance. Barmoukas said:

"The outas—what you call priest—says the funeral will be tonight. You stay; very interesting."

I was doubtful of this, as the Haravatians seemed a scowling, unfriendly lot. But Barmoukas urged me, and I thought it unwise to show any fear of these folk. Also, I have enough of the true traveler's spirit so that I hate to miss any kind of show, even at my own peril.

"I shall be back after dinner," I said, and went off to the camp for a meal of bread and roast goat.

An hour later I came back to Haravatis with most of my party. We took places around the edge of the market place and watched. It was nearly dark, with no moon. A small bonfire blazed. The outas orated and gestured in front of a platform on which stood three round things the size of melons. When my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I saw they were human heads. Barmoukas explained:

"No, not heads of enemy, but of men of this city who were killed. When raiders cannot bring back the whole body, they fetch head for funeral."

The outas, weeping, made an endless speech extolling the virtues of the dead. Presently the whole town began dancing around the square, weeping, chanting, and posturing to the tap of a set of tiny drums and some reed pipes that gave two or three feeble notes. The people had smeared dirt on their faces and donned their most ragged garments. The women, wearing horned caps bedight with beads and bits of bronze, danced in a separate circle.

I began to feel that all was not going well. As they passed, dancers slowed down to glower at me, as if to mark me for trouble. A few shouted in menacing tones. I sidled around the square till I found Thyestes and told him of my feeling.

"By Zeus, 'tis the same with me, Leon," he said. "Something's agley. Yon brandlings do but wait a signal to assail us."

"Then take the lads, one at a time, and tell them to slip back to camp and arm."

Thyestes moved slowly round the square, whispering in each man's ear. One by one the men faded away.

There were but a few left when the outas suddenly pointed at me and screamed: "O-o-or!"

With deafening yells of "I-i-iamash!" the townsfolk rushed upon me. I drew my sword but, before I could strike, they seized my arms. I went down under a press of bodies.

I kicked and punched and bit, but the Haravatians fastened on each of my limbs like leeches. When the crowd opened out again, they dragged me towards the central fire. They had seized two other Thessalians, while a third lay on the ground. Those not holding me tried to kick or strike me but got in each other's way. Hence they delivered but few solid blows.

Putting forth all my strength, I jerked my right arm free and knocked over one of my captors with a hammer blow of my fist. The others loosened their grip long enough for me to kick myself loose. For an instant I was almost free. I shouted: "Ē! Thessalians!" ere I went down again.

Then screams of fear arose all around, mingled with Thessalian cries of "Iai! Eleleleu!" The townsfolk dropped and trampled me as they fled in many directions. In a trice the square was clear but for corpses.

I crawled out from under a ruckle of bodies. Thyestes had led the Thessalians in a charge afoot, with sword and buckler, across the square. My men had struck down a score of townsfolk, and slew several more as they fled. They also caught several women but had the discretion to drag them out of my sight before raping them. From what I heard later, the women were glad to get off so lightly. One, in fact, declared her passionate love for her ravisher and would have joined us had not even my hard-bitten troopers found her too dirty to tolerate.

I had a bloody nose and many bruises, but no broken bones. One Thessalian, Sosikles of Pherai, had been stabbed at the start of the fracas and was dead when we picked him up.

Thyestes and another dragged forth the outas, bleeding from a scalp cut. Thyestes asked the man in Greek: "What means this?" When the outas did not answer, Thyestes shouted at him and struck him.

"Let me try," said Vardanas. He spoke slowly in Arachotian, of which he knew a little. At first the priest feigned not to understand, but a burning brand against his bare foot sharpened his wits remarkably.

After a long and halting dialogue, Vardanas said: "His tale, if I understand him aright, is that Barmoukas told him we planned to surprise and slay them all and feed them to the elephant. Barmoukas —where is the vagabond, by the way?"

We looked but found no sign of the guide.

"Barmoukas," Vardanas went on, "also told him we had a vast treasure and urged him to attack us and seize it before we assailed them. So they planned to capture us all and sacrifice us to their war god, Gis. They thought Gis was wroth with them for neglect and had therefore caused the raid to fail."

Although I never let anybody see inside the chests, the mere fact of guarding them closely would soon betray the fact that they held things of value.

"He also says," continued Vardanas, "that your king wronged them by changing the capital of the province to Gazaka. This ruined their prosperity, so they feel entitled to vengeance on all Hellenes."

I was about to order the outas' head stricken off when a thought came to me. We could not kill all the Haravatians, as they had fled into the hills. But, if we slew the outas, they would simply come back after we had gone and try the same trick on their next Greek guests.

"Tell him," I said, "that Alexander will post some soldiers near here, and the next time the Haravatians molest harmless travelers they will be utterly destroyed."

Some Thessalians murmured at my leniency. But I, remembering the king's lecture to me, insisted.

"I will try," said Vardanas. "He will probably not believe me even if he understand. These folk are such liars that they think all other men are, too. For my part, I had rather bind him between boards and saw him in halves, as the three-headed serpent-king Dahax did to Zamas the Radiant."

As if the loss of a good soldier in this wretched village were not enough, we picked up some sickness that ran through the whole hipparchia, with fevers and fluxes. We crept down the Arachotos, with many halts to gather our feeble strength. Some of the men reported prophetic dreams of doom; others read disaster in the flight of birds. One old vulture—at least, I think it was the same bird—followed us hopefully for days, circling over us just out of bowshot. Vardanas and the Dahas, though splendid archers, missed the carrion eater several times until they decided it was no mortal bird, but a drouz or evil spirit seeking to tempt them to waste all their arrows.

Luckily, considering how weak we now were, news of our slaughter of the Haravatians spread ahead of us, so that the villagers along the way either fled before our coming or used us with utmost respect. While kindness and affability are often useful in getting strangers to treat one well, the ability to avenge any wrong tenfold is more effective yet.

When I found a man named Arakon, who could understand Vardanas' Arachotian, I hired him as a guide to Kandacha. But fortune is never satisfied with a single calamity. The second night, a Thessalian, Pelias, came to me saying:

"That whipworthy guide has run off with my purse! Let's slay all these thieving skellums!"

A search of the camp showed Pelias to be right. I dashed my helmet to the ground, crying: "I swear by Zeus the king and all the gods to flay this branded knave gif ever I catch him! How long sin he's been seen?"

It turned out that Arakon must have slipped away just after dinner on the pretense of a call of nature. Therefore, he had a start of over an hour.

"The Dahas and I might scour the neighborhood mounted," said Vardanas.

I pondered, then said: "Na, na, laddie. 'Tis over-dark, and the risk of a fall is too great. I'll no have my force whittled down yet further for the sake of a few oboloi."

"A few oboloi, forsooth!" said Pelias. "There were twenty-six drachmai and two bonny dareikoi in that purse!"

Later, as we sat about the fire listening to the yelp of jackals and making the best of things with a skin of wine, I said: "By the deathless gods, the Hegias was right when he said never to trust these villains. The king should have wiped them out."

"Oh, come," said Pyrron. "They may have virtues of which we are not cognizant."

"Name one," said Thyestes.

"How about it, Vardanas?" said Pyrron. "Do you know of any virtues in these Eastern hillmen?"

"True, they are brave to the point of folly," said Vardanas, who was sewing another patch on his coat. "And they are kind to their beasts, though they care nought for human life."

"You see?" said Pyrron. "Moreover, they, no doubt, consider us altogether as obnoxious as we regard them. People present their worst aspects to foreigners."

" 'Tis easy for you to talk," said Thyestes. "You've no been robbed."

"No, I pronounce but the truth. After all ..." Here Pyrron cleared his throat, which meant a lecture. "After all, we are all good friends here who have saved each other's lives, though we come of several nations. Yet I'll wager that each—Hellene or Persian or Indian—finds some customs of the other two nations strange and horrible."

"Foreigners find my ways offensive?" said Thyestes. "I believes it no. I'm but a simple professional soldier; there's nought strange and horrible about me. Any wight who thinks so maun be daft."

"Everybody thinks those who disapprove of him arc mad," said Pyrron. "Come now, will you keep your temper if the Persian and the Indian tell us their honest opinion of Hellenic habits?"

"Aye, that I will."

"Well then," said Pyrron, "let Vardanas expound what he thinks are the most objectionable Greek customs."

"Without meaning offense," said Vardanas, "we find Hellenes the most grasping, lying, treacherous race on earth."

"By the gods! How say you that?" said Thyestes.

"Your own poets say so. Who wrote: 'Put faith in no Hellene,' Pyrron?"

"Euripides, I think," said Pyrron.

"And know you not your own history? How about Pausanias' betrayal of the Plataians? How about the great Demosthenes, whom everybody knows was long in the pay of the Persian kings? How about—"

"Na, na," said Thyestes. "No scholar am I. I've heard these men's names but dinna ken the fine points of their history. I admits that some of my countrymen are a whin less careful of their plighted word and more susceptible till the lure of gold than might be. Howsomever, methinks that betimes you Persians carry truthfulness to ane unco extreme."

"Besides," said Pyrron, "there was never a more perfidious treacher than the Persian Tissaphernes."

"Who?" said Vardanas.

"You know, the satrap of Karia under the second Artaxerxes."

"Oh, Tshishapharnas. He had been too much under Hellenic influence. Therefore he does not count."

"A true sophist, though he wear the Median trouser!" said Pyrron. "But continue your catalogue of our delinquencies."

"Next, Hellenes have the world's worst manners. They have no courtesy; they have no sense of fitness; they have no respect for authority. Lastly, for all your vaunted cleverness, you cannot make a decent suit of clothes, but wrap yourselves in blankets like savages."

Pyrron whistled. "My word! I'm doomed to the depths of Tartaros, O Minos."

"When comes my turn?" said Thyestes.

"I have finished," said Vardanas. "Now, Hellene, say what is horrible about Persians."

"Well, first come their pompous manners," said Thyestes, crossing his hands on his bosom and mocking the deep bows of the Persians. "Then there's their effeminate luxury."

At this, Vardanas held up the coat he was mending, staring at the tears and patches with eyebrows raised in so comical an expression that all burst into laughter.

Thyestes continued: "Then there's this eldrich custom of men's marrying their own daughters and sisters."

"What is wrong with that?" said Vardanas. "My own father, who is a good man if hard to live with, speaks of wedding my sister Nirouphar."

"The mere thought of sic incest gars the gods to shudder!"

"Your gods, perhaps; not mine. At least a man knows what to expect. This he does not when he weds a woman outside the family. And you Hellenes wed your half sisters."

" 'Tis no the same. Although as a soldier I've had my share of robbery, rape, and manslaying, that's one sin nought could tempt me to commit. Forbye, there's the Persians' slavish obedience to their kings."

At this the twain began to shout: "How else can one run an orderly, civilized state?" "... the self-respect of free Hellenes ..." "... who use their freedom to rob and murder one another ..."

Pyrron, laughing, called: "Desist, you two! We've not yet heard from our Indian. Come, Kanadas, tell us what you consider repulsive about the usages of Hellenes and Persians."

"You no be angry?" said Kanadas, who had been silent as usual. Reassured, he began in his halting mixture of Persian and Greek:

"Persians are little wicked, but not so wicked as Hellenes, because Persians are more like us. Persians do one wicked thing. That is, cut off male parts from captives to make them—what is word?"

"Eunuchs?" said Pyrron.

"Yes, eunuchs. That is great sin. Brachman give those parts to men to keep race going. To maim them is insult to gods."

"But," said Vardanas, "how else can we keep order in our harems?"

"Try keeping to one wife apiece," said Pyrron. "What else, Kanadas?"

"As for Hellenes," said Kanadas, "I have not been in Hellas and so not know how Hellenes live at home. In Sindou they are very wicked."

"How so?" said Thyestes.

"They make love to other men. Is terrible sin amongst us, but you do it all the time."

Vardanas put in: "We have a saying, too: Beware the Hellene! First he flatters you; then he kisses you; then he sticks it up your arse; then he runs off with your wallet."

"Now, lads," I said, "that's not entirely true."

"Indeed?" said Vardanas.

"Nay, 'tis not. The southern Hellenes, Athenians and Spartans and such, make a habit of it, but in the North we deem it lewd and shameful. True, we make no such matter of it as does Kanadas, but our better sort of men approve it not. Nor do our neighbors, the Macedonians. The King Philip was slain by a Macedonian youth who had been buggered at a drunken revel and blamed the king for not punishing the fellow whose fault it was."

"It does happen amongst you, though," said Vardanas. "The story itself bears witness."

"So too does it happen among Persians," I said. "We all know about your painted boy-eunuchs."

"Alas! Some of my countrymen have caught the habit from Ionian Hellenes and other conquered peoples."

Pyrron cleared his throat. "There's a tradition," he said, "that the forebears of the southern Hellenes encouraged homosexual love as a military measure. It was thought that an army of men who satisfied each other's lusts would not need to drag a cumbrous train of women after them in the field. Others say the practice came from Crete."

"Where does this leave you, O Pyrron?" said Vardanas. "Do you prefer men or women?"

Pyrron smiled. "I differ from all of you. I love mankind in the abstract but have no passion for any individual, male or female. Now continue, Kanadas."

"Next wicked thing is way Hellenes make war. They break rules of warfare. In Sindou it is law that when sun sets, every army camps where it is. No Indian would surprise enemy by march at night, as Alexander did to Poros. Unfair."

"Somebody should have told the Alexander," said Thyestes.

"He would not have heeded," said Kanadas seriously. "Next thing is killing people not warriors. In Sindou, warrior caste does all fighting, but fights other warriors only. Fights not priests, farmers, traders, workers. Hellenes kill everybody, no matter what caste. Wicked."

"You have a point there, old boy," said Pyrron.

"Then, men they kill not, they make slaves. Persians do too. No slaves in Sindou. Slavery cruel. How you like to be slave?"

"At no rate," I said. "But slavery's not so bad as that. Else what should we do with prisoners of war? We could not turn them loose lest they take vengeance upon us anon. We could not keep them and feed them in idleness for aye. The only other thing would be to slay them, and surely that's less humane than making slaves of them."

"In Sindou prisoners join army of winning king. No kill, no make slaves. Simple."

Vardanas said: "Without slavery there could be no civilization. The Greek thinkers say that if everybody had to toil for his own bread, nobody would have time to learn new truths, or teach his fellow man how to act, or make beautiful things like poems and statues."

"I must disagree," said Pyrron. "Here's one Greek thinker, at any rate, who disapproves of slavery. However, I don't like the Indian caste system any better."

"Why not?" said Kanadas. "Caste is perfect system. Every man has place in life, work to do, customs to follow. No need to worry or question. Everything—how you say?—organized."

"That's the trouble. In free, democratic Hellas there's no limit to the height an able man can rise, at least if he be freeborn. What if an Indian be born into a low caste with the spirit of a great leader or the intellect of a profound philosopher? What could he do with his ability? Nothing."

"Could not rise in this life, but could in next. Gods put every man in caste he earns by actions in former lives. If you be good now, you are promoted in next life. Perfect divine justice."

"Just like the fornicating army," said Thyestes.

"But if bad, you spend next life as insect," said Kanadas.

"That's like the Pythagorean doctrine," said Pyrron. "However, I shall believe in a future life when I see it."

"Have you no religion, then?" said Vardanas, sounding a little shocked.

Pyrron yawned. "I can only quote Protagoras: T have no way of knowing whether the gods exist or not, for the obstacles to knowledge are many.'"

I said: "Well, if ever we get home safely despite the perils of land and sea, I shall feel obliged to thank some divine power or other. Shall I thank Zeus, or the Persian Auramasdas, or the Gandarian Imras? Or are they all the same?"

Pyrron yawned again. "That were a subject for another evening."

"What of definite worth have we gained from this one?" I asked.

"There's my practical Leon, always wanting to know the precise value of everything! Let's say: To think of virtues and vices as matters of custom, not dogmatically true. And thus, I hope, to look upon strangers like these wretched Arachotians with a tolerant eye."

Vardanas said: "My feeling now is that all men are hopelessly bad, though in different ways."

"Perhaps," said Pyrron, "we can someday review our national virtues as we have our national vices. Could we combine the wit and intelligence and daring of the Hellenes, the courtesy and generosity and veracity of the Persians, and the sobriety and moral earnestness of the Indians, we should have a race worthy of ruling heaven as well as earth. And now to bed, my dear chaps."

"Ea!" said Thyestes. "But we've no told our blue-bearded comrade what we think of the Indians' burning widows, and their other cruel customs."

"I am sleepy, too," said Kanadas. "Some other time, perhaps. All I say now is Hellenes do one more wicked thing. They make poor Kanadas of Paurava go on this horrible journey, through wild countries, amongst fierce evil peoples, sleeping on hard ground and eating vile, unholy food. I think gods make your king into spider in next life because of that."

After another guide deserted, it dawned upon me that these folk never went more than a few leagues from their homes and could be made to do so only by force. Thereafter, I hired a man at each village to guide us to the next and then engaged another.

Ere it reaches Kandacha, the post road leaves the Arachotos and trends west over broken country. Here we suffered not only from heat but also from the wind. Boreas howled and shrieked all day. He stung our faces with sand and filled our gear and garments with dust until our eyes were like red-rimmed grapes looking out of brown masks of dirt.

The wind blew off Pyrron's hat. The first time, he rode after it while it rolled ahead of him like a runaway chariot wheel. He passed it several times but failed to retrieve it until Skounchas the Daha galloped by and snatched it up.

The second time, Pyrron tried to pick up the runaway hat from the ground as the Daha had done. Instead, he fell off his horse into a thornbush. He came back limping and bleeding from a score of scratches, while Skounchas rode behind him grinning and flourishing the hat.

"Philosophical detachment is sometimes difficult of attainment in the face of material annoyances," he said. "But, as Aischylos says, time teaches many lessons. I shall forgo my hat till we reach a more suitable clime." He began to tie a scarf over his head. "Oh, damn this abandoned wind!" he cried, as it whipped the scarf out of his hand and carried it far out over the waste.

"This is nothing," said Vardanas. "Around Lake Areios it blows like this for half a year on end. Be thankful; were it not for the wind, the midges would devour us."

"You can scoff at the wind," I said, "for you're the only fellow clad for it. Could I get one of those head bags in Kandacha?"

"I see no obstacle," he said.

Besides his Median coat and trousers, which kept the sand from stinging his skin, Vardanas had put on the headdress that Persians wear in such lands. This is a kind of bag pulled over the head. It has a hole that leaves the visage bare, but in these gales the bag is tucked up under the felt hat until all the face is covered save the eyes. This headgear not only guarded his face but also kept the wind from blowing his long hair into a tangle.

We reached a high plain flanked by hills. At its western edge, this plain breaks up into gorges, which level out into the valley of the west branch of the Arachotos River. The city stands on the edge of the tableland. A citadel rises from a nearby peak. Alexander found the Arachotian village of Kandacha here, renamed it Alexandropolis, and made it a major garrison town. Now, less than four years later, the village had been swallowed up by new construction.

At the sight of this bustling place, we looked forward to getting indoors out of the wind. This, alas, was not to be. I sought out the viceroy of Arachotia, a graying Hellene with a look of harassment, named Menon, son of Kerdimmas.

"Rejoice, Troop Leader Leon," he said. "It's good to see you. Did you say you wished quarters in the town? Dear me; more decisions! I fear it's impossible."

"Why, O Viceroy?"

"Because our own folk are moving into the city faster than new houses are built. We burst at the seams now. You I can put up in my own hut, but not your men."

I was tempted to ask him to pitch a few of these thieving Arachotians out to make room for us, but forbore. He might refuse, and the king had warned me against such overbearing.

"Thank you, but I must decline," I said. "My father taught me— and King Alexander showed me by example—that one must share the discomforts of one's men to keep them true. Now, how about the road to Phrada? Can I get my force thither without a guide?"

"Oh no, Hipparch. You must have a guide."

"Why? Our experience with guides has not been happy."

"During the windy season, the shifting sand often wipes out the road. Unless you know the lie of the land, you'll get lost in the sand dunes and salt marshes around Lake Areios."

"Then can you get me a trusty one? I'm weary of their desertions."

"Surely, surely. I know such a man—I can't think of his name—"

What is it? What is it?" Menon struck his palm against his forehead. "This responsibility is driving me mad. By the! Never let the king make you governor, Leon. It's the shortest road to your grave. Because I had some small success in Chalkidikean politics, the king set me over a province larger than all Hellas. It sounded wonderful until I found myself in this howling wilderness, amongst all-depraved savages, with nobody I can trust, seeing the same few Greek faces month after month ..."

Menon collected himself and said: "Forgive me, blessed one, but the cursed loneliness makes my mind wander. As Pindaros says, to fools belongs a love for far-off things. I'll ask my secretary for the name of that guide. Whence go you from Phrada?"

"Across the Waterless Plain to Karmana. We shall need camels to carry water. Can I hire camels at Phrada?"

"Given time; the caravan routes from the north run together there. Let me write to Stasanor—"

"Who's he?"

"Viceroy of Zarangiana; my opposite in Phrada. I'll tell him to spread the word you'll hire camels. The letter will reach him by royal post days before you do."

"Thank you."

"It's nothing, nothing. But do think again about staying the night with me." Menon placed a hand on my shoulder and toyed with my tangled hair. "It's seldom I get a handsome gentleman like you through here. I think we could be very close friends indeed."

So that was it. I affirmed my refusal and went back to my tattered tent outside the city. The wind drummed on the cloth and threatened to blow the whole structure into the distant Arachotos.

We spent two days there. We had our hair cut and beards trimmed by a Greek barber. We washed the dirt off in the west branch of the Arachotos. I replaced a few worn-out horses and mules with fresh stock. And, of course, we sweated and swinked to feed the elephant.

We set out again at the beginning of Boedromion, traveling mostly at night because of the frightful heat. Some Thessalians laughed at my Persian head bag and hat, but I said: "Laugh away, buckies; we shall see who laughs last."

Sure enough, within two days, tormented by the wind, they were tying scarves about their faces and cursing themselves for not having bought such headgear. Then Elisas brought out a dozen hats and head bags he had bought in Kandacha and offered them at outrageous prices. The men cursed him for a swindler, but he only shrugged and said:

"Everything is dear in a growing town. If you like them not, I will find others who do."

In the end, they bought all the head bags. Those who failed to get any cursed and struck Elisas for not having enough to go round. I rescued him from a serious beating. He, however, said with another shrug:

"A trader learns to take the rough with the smooth."

Menon's guide was a fat Arachotian named Dastiger, who rode a mule because he feared horses. I thought I might do better with him, being not exactly slim myself. True, he did not demand more money at every step.

Howsomever, Dastiger's vice was laziness. He took in ill part every moment on the road and tried by every sleight to cut it short. He was ever the last man ready at the starts and the first to urge stopping.

We forded the Arachotos and wound through the foothills of the Indian Caucasus. The next town of any size, Garis, was six hundred furlongs from Kandacha. I hoped to reach it in four or five days.

The morning of the third day we were halted for hours while a woman gave birth. When mother and child were seen to be doing well, I urged a greater speed to make up for lost time.

"You never cross desert thus," grumbled Dastiger in Persian. "You and your animals will all fall dead. Should go slowly, with many rests."

"Resting is what you are best fitted for," I said. "Beat more speed into that mule. Get up!"

"Always hurry, hurry, hurry. Outlanders crazy."

Towards evening I saw a walled village ahead on the banks of a wee river. "What is that?" I asked.

"Garis by name," said Dastiger.

I stared. "That does not look like Garis as I remember it, and I am sure the Haitoumans is bigger. Nor have we come any twenty-five leagues from Kandacha."

"You forget: Everything seems smaller second time, and journey goes quicker."

I called to Vardanas: "Will you ride on and see if this fellow be right?"

Vardanas and the Dahas galloped off, the wind whipping their dust plumes away. When they came back, the Persian said: "I cannot make out their dialect."

As we neared the town, Dastiger urged his mule ahead and got there first. When I came up, he was surrounded by laughing villagers, who seemed to know him.

I picked out one of the wiser-looking and said slowly in Persian: "Is this Garis?"

"Yes, yes, Garis by name," he said.

"Is that the Haitoumans yonder?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"You see," said Dastiger. "You go so fast you get there before you think. Now we take long rest before marching again."

"Perhaps you have a woman friend here, eh?" I said.

Dastiger gave a shrill laugh and held his hands before his face. Then he dashed off to keep his tryst with more alacrity than he had shown since joining us.

I made arrangements for feeding Aias, then sat down to dinner, watching the sun go down behind the spurs. I was biting into a pomegranate and spitting the seeds when the beat of hooves and a hail in Persian made me look around.

A postman rode in from the west and pulled up at our camp. I got up and traded greetings with the lean, weather-beaten rider.

"Auramasda thouvam daushta bia," he said, which means "May God befriend you." Then he said: "Outanas son of Pakouras by name am I. I ought not to stop, but never before have I seen an elephant. The temptation was too great."

I replied: "Your motto may not suffer you to stop for snow, rain, heat, or darkness, but it says nought about elephants. Get down and share a bite with us."

"One must eat, even on the king's business." He sprang down from his horse, laid his mailbags on the ground, and sat cross-legged beside them. I yelled to the cook and rejoined the circle. Outanas plied us with questions.

"Gossip is our stock in trade," he said. "If we get lost in a blizzard, any peasant will take us in for the news we bring of great events. Now tell me, pray, whither you are bound with this great beast, and why?"

I answered him as frankly as I thought prudent.

"Then," said Outanas, "there is nought to this tale that has been going the rounds in the West, that Alexander has perished in the monster-haunted jungles of India?"

"He was much alive when we left Nikaia two months ago," I said. "I have spoken to many postmen and officials along the way, and none of those had any such tale to tell."

Vardanas said: "Unlike certain other nations, we Persians know how to keep our mouths shut when so commanded."

"Even so," I said, "something would surely have reached us. Nay, I think you must needs put this story down as a baseless rumor."

"I know how they arise," said Outanas. "Somebody hears someone else say: 'Alexander must be dead, else Harpalos dare not do the things he does.' Then the one who overhears goes to his friend and says: 'I have it straight from the market place that Alexander is dead.'"

I heard Outanas with but half an ear, for I became aware that Dastiger the guide stood just behind me. That gave me a thought.

"Tell me," I said, "is this Garis?"

"Garis!" cried the postman. "Mithras preserve me, no! This is Parin by name. Garis is a good ten leagues further."

I rose and faced Dastiger. "So, vagabond-—"

The guide sprang nimbly forward and snatched up my sword, sheath, and baldric, which I had laid on the ground while eating, and ran. I ran after him. Behind me the camp burst into commotion. Dastiger ran past the village and up the valley, parallel to the stream bed. As the sound of hooves came to my ears, he swerved away from the stream, across a field of standing crops, towards the nearest spur of hills. I pounded after.

The sound of hooves drew nearer. A Sakan arrow whistled past Dastiger's head. The guide looked back, ran a few steps up the slope, and vanished.

Confounded, I stopped. Madouas, the Daha who had shot the shaft, cantered past me to where our quarry had disappeared. I hastened up, puffing. Several others arrived from the camp.

Madouas pointed to a hole in the ground with a rim of stones around the top. It looked as though Dastiger had jumped down a well.

"An outlandish thing to do," I said, peering into the depths. "I see him not."

A Thessalian thrust a javelin down as far as he could reach. He said: "'Tis but four or five cubits deep, Troop Leader. I'm feeling bottom."

"Then whither has the thieving waf gone?" I cried. "Unless he be a witch and has turned himself into a crayfish!"

"Nay, he is no Hyrkanian wizard," said Vardanas. "He went through the tunnel. Look there!"

Though it was too dark to see clearly, I made out two openings on opposite sides of the well at the bottom.

"This is a karis," he continued. "It brings water from the hills to the plain without losing it to the air on the way. We sink a line of wells, like this. We dig a tunnel joining them at their bottoms. This tunnel comes to the surface at the head of a set of irrigation ditches, like those yonder. So Dastiger can slip through the tunnel, climb another well shaft, and make his escape."

"Lend me a sword," I said. "I'm going after him."

"It will get you nothing," said Vardanas.

I borrowed a sword nevertheless, lowered myself over the edge of the well, and dropped. I landed in shin-deep water with a hard sandy bottom. By stooping, I could walk along the tunnel. Thinking Dastiger would have chosen the uphill direction, I plodded up the gentle slope. The darkness was almost complete except for the dim light down the well I had just quitted. When that light grew small behind me, that of another well appeared in front.

I felt my way along, now and then stopping to listen. There was no sound but the faintest gurgle of gently flowing water. Fishes nibbled at my legs.

When I had passed three wells without finding Dastiger, meseemed Vardanas was right. Behind me a mass of earth fell from the roof of the tunnel with a loud splash. Visions of being entombed dampened my fire. When I reached the next well without success, I beat a retreat.

Back at the camp, I took a sword out of our store of spare weapons. Though the best we had, it was a crude, cheap blade, so notched as to be almost like a saw. As I began to grind a proper edge on it, Vardanas, observing my look of disgust, said:

"I grieve for your loss, best one. The worst is that you will have to charge yourself for the new blade."

"What?"

"Said you not at the beginning that every soldier who lost a weapon, otherwise than in battle, should have the cost of replacing it taken out of his pay?"

I glared at Vardanas, but Thyestes and some of the troopers had heard and burst into laughter. So I had to debit myself on the troop's payroll account. This, I thought, was carrying honesty to a foolish extreme. As I sat honing the blade, another thought struck me.

"Where's that postman, Outanas?" I asked.

Elisas said: "Gone, Troop Leader. When you went off after the guide, the postman leapt up as if to join the chase, but remembered his precious mailbags and forbore. He told me to thank you for the victuals and rode off."

"A pox!" I said. "I was fain to ask about the things Harpalos dare not do unless Alexander be dead."

Next morning the headman came to demand a fantastic sum that Dastiger had promised them for joining in his hoax. I chased the mayor back to the village, spanking his bottom with the flat of my wretched new sword.

From Parin the road descended as it westered. The foothills of the Indian Caucasus still rose on our right, with the mountains towering behind them, tier upon tier. On our left, the land opened out into vast level plains, dry, barren, windswept, and gravel-covered, with little sign of life save an occasional troop of gazelles or wild asses. The wild ass of these parts is a mulelike beast almost as large as a horse, which the Persians call a gaur.

Two days from Parin we came at last to the genuine Haitoumans, the Etymandros of the Hellenes. Here the river cuts through a yawning trough in the desert. The ford is deep and dangerous, unusable in spring.

Our column wound down the high side of the gorge. My people looked mistrustfully at the broad brown flood and then at me. At such times a leader's right to his post is put to the test. I forced Golden into the water, step by step, the stones rolling and grinding under her hooves.

Soon the water was waist-deep for a man afoot. Some Persian king had caused a line of stakes to be driven into the bottom below the ford and linked by ropes, to stop people from being swept away. But half the stakes were gone.

Behind me the men came in one at a time. Their horses snorted and needed a touch of the spur. Elisas rearranged the contents of the carts to put things liable to damage from the water on top.

Golden, shivering, plodded on. Most military men do not deem a ford usable if it be more than twelve palms deep, and the Haitoumans was at least sixteen palms at its deepest.

At last the water shoaled. From the far bank the road slanted up the side of the gorge. I walked Golden up this road a few paces and looked back.

The carts floundered through the flood, the water curling round their wheels. On the far bank, Kanadas and Siladites talked to Aias. The elephant lumbered into the stream, playfully splashing water about with blows of his trunk.

As they neared the west bank, my people more and more swerved to the right to make a short cut to the road up the bank. I sat at the first turn and waved them past. "Haill on, lads!" I called.

Aias, too, swerved upstream. Where the water was but a few palms deep, his stride slowed to a halt. He swung his head from side to side. He started to pluck first one foot and then another, out of the mud, but seemed unable to advance despite earnest efforts. He raised his trunk and squealed.

I called: "What is the matter?"

"He stuck!" came back Kanadas' deep voice. "Soft bottom here. Go quickly; get help!"

Already one could see that Aias was lower in the water. I hastened up the road. Before me lay Garis: a mud-walled fortress, a walled caravan shelter, and a score of houses huddled round a small market place.

"Vardanas!" I cried. "Aias is mired. We must get all the draft oxen we can, with harness and ropes."

We clashed into the town, scattering people and dogs. Vardanas demanded: "Where is the chief?"

The people either did not understand or pretended not to. At last we found an old man who, though a little deaf, admitted he understood Vardanas when the latter shouted.

Vardanas said: "He says a Persian governor is the highest man here, but he has gone gaur hunting."

"Have they no elected headman? You know, a mayor?"

More shouting. Then: "The mayor has gone hunting with the governor."

"How about the postmaster?"

"He has gone hunting too."

"Are there no Hellenes?"

"None. Just the governor to collect taxes and keep up the caravan shelter, the mayor to enforce the laws, and the postmaster to keep the postal service running."

Thyestes pushed his way through the thickening crowd, saying: "O Leon, the great beastie's up to his knees in mud the now. Gin you dinna get him out sune, he'll be freely buried."

Striving to keep calm, I said to Vardanas: "Then who does rule this dung heap?"

"Nobody, now. The hunters are expected back any day."

"Then tell him to order his people to fetch their oxen and tackle."

"He says he cannot."

"Why not?"

"They have no oxen, he says."

"Nonsense! I saw several in the fields."

"I know." Vardanas spoke in a threatening tone to the oldster. "Now he says they could not do it without orders from the governor." Some young Garians had gathered round the elder and uttered approving sounds at each response he made. Then Kanadas arrived. The townsfolk gave him a wide berth, for with his height and blue beard and huge sword he was an imposing sight.

"Woe, woe!" he cried, weeping. "Hurry, Lord Leon! My beautiful Mahankal is up to his belly in mud! If he die, I go mad, kill everybody!"

In the distance, Aias trumpeted calls for help.

"Translate that," I said, and to Thyestes: "Blow the alert and line the lads up. Belike we maun butcher these knaves to make them help us."

Vardanas reported: "Now he admits they have oxen, but not enough harness for the task. Anyway, how do they know the elephant will not trample the town flat?"

A blast on our trumpet sent the Garians running for shelter, whilst the Thessalians lined up with javelins poised.

"Elisas!" I said. "Give me a small loaf of bread."

"Are you daft, man?" said Thyestes.

"Na, you shall see." I took the loaf and said to Vardanas: "Tell him I shall now begin to eat this loaf. If, when I have finished, they've not rounded up all the oxen within five furlongs, with harness, and all the rope in town, I'll order my men to slay them all and burn the town to the ground. If, on the other hand, they help us, they shall be fairly paid."

I began eating while Vardanas translated. A furious haver broke out betwixt the old man and those around him. I kept on munching.

When a third of the loaf was gone, the younger Garians scattered to their dwellings. The townsfolk reappeared, running out to the fields. When the loaf was nearly gone, Vardanas said:

"They say these are all the oxen they have, and if we do not believe them we should search for ourselves."

"It pleases," I said, finishing the loaf. "Let's forth to the stream."

Poor Aias was indeed in sorry plight, with his belly drooping into the water. His trunk was curled up over his forehead, and he sent out peal after peal of trumpeting. The villagers drew back from the awesome sight, and some of the bullocks tried to flee back up the road from the ford.

"Give me rope!" cried Kanadas.

Taking the end of the heaviest rope, of braided leather, he plunged into the water and waded out to his pet. He and Siladites passed the rope around the elephant's rump, shouting at each other in Indian.

Finding all the others looking at me, I realized that they expected me to direct the rigging of an elephant tackle. I had never done any such task; but, as we say in Thessalia, one never knows what one can do till one tries.

I grouped the oxen, small black beasts with humps on their backs like those of India, in six teams. One team was to pull each limb of the elephant, one on the main rope around his rear, and one on a loop around his neck.

One effect of this activity was that Aias, knowing it was for his good, stopped struggling and thus did not sink further into the mire.

Hours passed. We all became covered from head to foot with the mud of the Haitoumans. At the first attempt to pull, one of the ropes broke. We halted everything to strengthen that line.

Again I gave the command to go. Whips cracked, oxen heaved, and ropes tautened. Kanadas and Siladites screamed, "Malmal!"

With sucking and bubbling sounds, Aias drew one foot after another out of the mud and advanced it. The combined pull of the oxen staggered him, as they were pulling at an angle to the direction he faced. Then over he went on his side, with a snapping of ropes, a tremendous splash, and a scream as of twenty trumpets fouled with spittle.

"Whoa!" I shouted.

Aias rolled back on his belly, got to his feet, and started for shore, with every sign of wrath. The oxen fled up the road, while some of the Garians scrambled straight up the side of the gorge in their terror.

Siladites splashed after Aias, caught the end of his trunk, and tugged on it, shouting "Thero!" Aias let himself be halted short of the brink, uttering smothered gurgles and squeals as if cursing under his breath. The Garians straggled back. We unhitched and untangled the ropes. The townsfolk capered, grinned, and kissed each other as if the entire plan had been theirs.

We no sooner gained the top of the gorge, however, than the Garians began shouting. Vardanas explained: "They want their pay."

"Two and a half oboloi for each bullock," I said. "Find who the owners are."

That, however, was easier said than done. Every man screamed that he had furnished two, three, or more oxen, which was absurd. Not knowing the folk or the tongue, I could not settle matters. I sought out the deaf elder.

"Tell him," I said to Vardanas, "that I shall hand him money equal to two and a half oboloi per ox; or five drachmai, two and a half oboloi altogether. In the want of authorities, he shall pay each owner his share. If these people wish to fight over this money, that's up to them."

Although the old man looked frightened, I brooked no denial. I handed him a cloth holding the money and thrust him into the midst of his folk. Then I went back to camp, ignoring the uproar that broke out behind me.

"Get to sleep early, lads," I said. "We're off for Phrada the morn."