An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Eight ANATOLIA

Arivarates told off one of his men to walk with each of the Thessalians and Dahas and two with each of the officers and Pyrron. We stumbled through the mud whilst the women, children, and servants, weeping and wailing, rode the mules and carts. Others of Arivarates' men led the horses. Siladites was allowed to ride the elephant, as there was no other way to guide the beast; but Kanadas was forced to stamp through the slush behind me. Nirouphar rode in the booth on Aias' back.

After the first few hours, we suffered the torments of sinners in Tartaros. This was not from cruelty on Arivarates' part, for he was a kindly captor despite his gruff manner, but because our legs were unused to all-day walking and our shoes were not soled for icy mud.

Happily for us, not much was left of the first day of our captivity. When darkness came, Kanadas sat down wearily by me and said: "Now you learn what slavery is like, Leon. After while you do not think it good thing any more."

"Would I had as long a pair of shanks as yours, man," I said.

"What is this?" barked Arivarates. "Keep apart and do not talk to each other unless I am there to listen. I know what you are thinking of: plans of escape. You had better give up any such hopes."

"My dear prince," I said, "I can think of nought the now save the pain in my legs. If I ran, I couldn't go ten paces ere they folded under me."

"Oh!" said Arivarates. "Let me see. You need the muscles kneaded to limber them, like this."

He dug his fingers into my calf with such force that I yelled.

"That is how to do it," he said. "You and the Indian shall massage each other's legs, and I will make the other prisoners do the same."

The next day we tottered off on our road again. The Kappadokians strode easily beside us, watching us closely. We had no converse with them because of the differences of language, but they did not even talk much amongst themselves. Like the other folk of inner Anatolia— the Paphlagonians, Lykaonians, and Phrygians—they are stocky, hairy, and hook-nosed like the Armenians. In manner they are slow, stolid, and silent. But, if they lack the liveliness of Hellenes and Syrians, they are more honest and true than either.

The valley opened out on the Anatolian plain, a wide, brown, gently rolling expanse, cut here and there by steep-sided valleys through which small swift rivers flow. Patches of melting snow lay everywhere. There were few trees and little sign of life, except for fowl flying overhead, occasional flocks of sheep, and once a herd of wild asses in the distance.

We reached Tyana the second day after our capture. So crippled were we that we staggered along with our arms about the necks of our Kappadokian guards. One of our three remaining slaves escaped on a mule, so Arivarates made all the menservants of the hipparchia, too, dismount and walk.

Arivarates let us rest in Tyana; it was either that or carrying us. After a day and a half we went on. The wind rose and whipped at us, so that we had to reel along leaning against it.

Now and then one of King Arivarates' messengers would gallop past, spattering us with mud; or a troop of armored cavalry would clatter up, exchange some words with Prince Arivarates, and ride on. King Arivarates was evidently getting ready for a summer of hard fighting.

Between his duties, Prince Arivarates rode beside one or another of us and conversed in Greek or Persian, asking sharp questions. As I had spoken but the truth when I pleaded that this was a scientific expedition, I saw no reason not to be frank.

On the second day from Tyana, we came into a wide flat land of frozen marshes. In the distance a tremendous mountain rose over the horizon, rearing a snow-covered cone above a ring of forested foothills. Arivarates said to me:

"That is the holy mountain of Ma, which the Hellenes call Mount Argaios. Legend says a fire-breathing dragon sleeps beneath it. When he stirs, the earth trembles, and someday he will come forth to burn up the entire land. Ea!" he cried to Pyrron in front of us. "Watch your step, man. If you stray off the road into these bogs, you will sink from sight in a trice."

He turned back to me. "That man has convinced me that he is a veritable philosopher. No ordinary man could be so awkward and absent-minded. But I will lay no wagers that he will so convince my father, who is not overwhelmed by love of Hellenes."

"From your speech," I said, "I had said you had some Greek education yourself."

"True. I have spent a year in Athens. We admire Hellenic culture, but we should esteem it even more if we could get rid of all the Hellenes." He grinned.

"You are making a good start," I said, indicating the column.

"Not bad. My father thought me mad to raid so far south with only a company of foot. But I told him my sturdy hillmen could take care of themselves. And behold! I have taken the cream of Alexander's men, with a monster and a chest full of money."

"Thank you for the flattery. But what will you do with the elephant? This land is too cold for these beasts, and he'll eat you out of house and home."

"That is for my father to decide. If all else fail, he should give us plenty of steaks."

Two days thereafter we reached Mazaka. This city clung to a low spur of Mount Argaios, surrounded by vineyards, orchards, and sheep-folds in the midst of an otherwise wild and barren land. The houses were made of timber from the forests of Mount Argaios and slabs of stone from a quarry on the banks of the Melas. The Mazakans looked at us curiously but did not run and point and shout as had most other folk.

We were herded into a stockade. They let us have our tents, though of course no weapons or edged tools. As soon as they left us, I called the men together and said:

"Lads, some may think all's over but the slave block. But that may no come to pass after all. We dinna ken whether this king will slay us, sell us, or turn us loose. So there shall be no letting down of discipline—"

"So say you!" said Geres of Lapathos. "As for me, I've had all the soldiering I want for the now. Any wight who wants me to obey maun make me!"

The only answer was to spin Geres around and deal him a buffet that stretched him in the dirt. Howsomever, Geres got up and came for me like a wild bull. He was as heavy as I and a puckle taller, so I had my hands full. We were slugging away, and I was bleeding at the lip and wondering if I had not taken on more than I could cope with, when, as I pressed my foe backwards with a rush, I saw a foot shoot out and trip Geres. Down he went. Nobody noticed that he had been tripped, for the yelling crowd pressed in upon us from all sides.

Ere he could rise, I sent him a good swing to the side of his jaw. This time he stayed down. Later Inaudos the Kordian caught my eye, winked, and wiggled his foot.

Thereafter there was no more argument about discipline. I made Klonios of Skotoussa, the double-pay trooper, flank guard in Thyestes' place, after warning him to cast no more lovelorn looks upon Nirouphar. Though too slow and easygoing to make a first-class officer, Klonios was well liked and altogether the best choice open to me.

King Arivarates lived in a palace of rough stone, like unto the other houses in Mazaka but larger. The royal standard, a gilded eagle with two heads, stood on a pole before the entrance. We were marched in under heavy guard, after having been taken to the bathhouse to make ourselves presentable.

The king, a massive graybeard, sat on a throne of carven black stone, from the back of which rose a golden two-headed eagle. On one side stood Prince Arivarates; on the other, a brawny soldier with Kanadas' two-handed sword.

I gave a Persian bow and said: "Rejoice, O King!" When I snapped my fingers and hissed at the others, they did likewise.

King Arivarates chewed his mustache. "So," he rumbled. "What shall I do with you, Hellene?" He spoke Greek with a much stronger accent than his son's.

"Send us on our way to Athens, King," I said.

"Ha! We shall see. My son tells me you claims to be a what-you-call scientific expedition, eh?"

"True, O King."

"With tame philosophers yet?"

"Aye. Behold the wise Pyrron of Elis!"

"Ha!" The king chewed the other end of his mustache. "I have read lots of Greek books. Wonderful thought you Hellenes have. Have beginnings of a good little royal libraries here. But"—and he fixed Pyrron with a glare—"no books by any Pyrron of Elis. What have you written, if you are so wise?"

Pyrron looked shamed. "Well—ah—King," he said, "the truth is that I've never written a real book. I have a multitude of treatises planned. I keep reading and taking notes. But there's always so much to observe, and so many interesting things to do and talk about, that somehow I never get around to serious composition. When I do sit down to write, I always discover I'm out of papyrus, or I've mislaid my notes, or I need a reference book that's in Athens."

"Ha." The king pulled his beard. "You know somethings? This is all a clever little scheme by Harpalos to get reinforcements to Antigonos. I suppose Harpalos will next try to send soldiers through my country dressed as dancing girls. Those branded rascals will not let me alone. I writes nice letter to King Alexander, saying I will be friends with him. What happen? Every year Antigonos invades my country and I have to drive him out again." The king smote the arm of his throne. "So you think you fool old King Arivarates, eh? I have a little surprises for you. Come forward, you so-called philosopher."

Pyrron stepped forward. A lackey brought a stool. The guard with Kanadas' sword also advanced and placed himself behind Pyrron.

"Put the behind on the seats," said King Arivarates. "Comfortably, eh? You better be. We will see who is a philosopher. Honorable calling, philosophy, and it make me angrily to see some how-you-say ignoramus pretending to be real philosopher.

"So. My son has prepared a list of questions. You answer them all right, I let you go, with all your specimens and property except your slaves and money. Those I need, for damages done to my kingdom by Antigonos. But if you do not, off goes your head, and all the rest will be sold into slavery. You understand, eh?"

"This is an unusual proposal," said Pyrron, "but I'm as ready as I shall ever be. 'It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize.' How many questions are there, O King?"

I felt an immense admiration for Pyrron, who seemed as cool as if he were merely facing a fellow sophist in the Athenian market place.

"Ten," said the king. "Take your time, for I should not like my beautiful palace dirtied with your blood. But do not think Gasys cannot swing that Indian sword. He has been practicing for hours, on cabbages. Go ahead, son. Numbers one, aim, shoot!"

Prince Arivarates stepped forward with a roll of papyrus. He said: "Thales of Miletos was asked: What is easy? and: What is hard? What answers did he give?"

Pyrron muttered to himself. The king said: "Come, speak up, man! I cannot hear."

"I'm sorry; that's a habit of mine. Thales said it is easy to give advice to others, but difficult to know oneself."

"That is right," said the prince.

"Good! Good!" cried the king. "Give him a cheer, everybody. Is maybe the last one he will ever hear."

"Second," said the prince, "what did the statesman Solon hold to be the first rule of life?"

"To hold the moderate course," said Pyrron.

"Right. Third, how did Anaxagoras of Klazomenai describe the sun?"

"As a mass of red-hot metal, larger than the Peloponnesos." The king said: "Maybe you make them too easily, son."

"They wax harder," said the prince. "Fourth: what did Antisthenes say was the greatest boon?"

Pyrron hesitated and mumbled, then said: "To—to die happy."

"Give three maxims of Pythagoras."

"Does this count as one question or as three?"

"As one."

"That's not just!" said Pyrron.

"Ah, but who decides what is just, yet?" said the king. "Go ahead, or Gasys will earn his pay."

"Be it noted that I comply under protest. The three maxims are:

Don't stir fire with a knife; don't sit on your quart; and don't eat your heart."

"What does that mean?" said the king. "Is that a question?" said Pyrron.

"No, I mean yes, I mean no. I ask it, but it is not one of the ten."

"Then the answer will have to wait."

"I will wager you do not even know the answer," said the king.

"As it happens I do, but since this isn't one of the ten, it makes no difference. Next question, O Prince."

"Pray do not interrupt, Father," said the prince. "It puts me off my stride."

"No, I am really interesting," said the king. "We will count the answers to this as one of the ten. Explain those three maxims, Pyrron."

"By 'Don't stir the fire with a knife' he meant 'Don't stir the pride and passions of the great.' By 'Don't sit on your quart' he meant 'Don't use tomorrow's sustenance recklessly.' By 'Don't eat your heart' he meant 'Don't waste your life in unnecessary troubles.'"

"Good maxims!" said the king. "You all be carefully not to stir my passions, eh? And it seems to me that taking elephant to Athens is eating your heart. But go ahead, son."

"Sixth—I mean seventh—" said the prince, "how did Demokritos describe the universe?"

"One of my favorite philosophers. He said: The universe is made up of atoms and the void; all else is mere appearance."

"What a wicked atheist!" growled the king.

"Eighth: what said Protagoras about his belief in the gods?"

Pyrron rattled it off: "I know not whether the gods exist or not."

"Any fool knows they exist," said the king. "You better have some harder questions, son."

"You shall see, O sire. Number nine: what did Anacharsis say were the safest vessels?"

Pyrron stared at the ceiling and at the floor, moving his lips and muttering. The wait became embarrassing. The executioner shifted his grip on the great sword and shuffled his feet to assure his footing.

"Those that have been hauled out on shore," said Pyrron.

"Right," said the prince. "Tenth and last question: what did Aristippos say was the main advantage of being a philosopher?"

This time the wait was even longer. Gasys sighted on Pyrron's neck and made small passes with the sword. The king sighed and looked sad.

Pyrron's mien became desperate. He licked his lips. Sweat beaded his brow.

There was a sharp hiss from the audience as Vardanas spoke in a loud whisper: "If—all—laws—were—repealed!"

"Oh," said Pyrron. "The advantage is that if all laws were repealed, one would go on living the same as before. I think such a conclusion is factually open to question, but that's what the chap asserted."

"You pass," said King Arivarates. "Even though there was a little cheating on the last question. But then, once I saw you was a really philosopher, I would not cut off your head for missing one little question. At least not indoors—catch him, somebody!"

Pyrron had swooned.

The king feasted us that night in celebration of Pyrron's feat. My soldiers ate with the king's guard while the officers and Pyrron dined with the king, and Nirouphar with the queen. King Arivarates was about to seat Pyrron on his right when Pyrron said:

"O King, as Troop Leader Leon is of higher rank than I, he ought to have the place of honor."

"But you won the games! The party is for you!"

"I know, and it's very kind of you. But, you see, Leon is a serious, dignified sort of chap who cares for such distinctions, whereas they mean virtually nothing to me."

"The vagabond tries to shame me, King," I said. "Seat him there if you have to call your guards to help. The left will suit me as well."

I will not describe the repast save to say that, next to the Spartans, the Kappadokians are the worst cooks of all the nations whose food I have eaten. The king plunged into a subject that was much in his mind.

"How would you like to live in Mazaka?" he said.

"Why—I should have to consider the matter carefully, King," said Pyrron. "What had you in mind?"

"I wants some learned Hellene to stay here to write history of Katpatouka."

"Has it a history?"

"Indeed yes, a long history! Nearly all gone now, except for a few old documents and traditions ..."

I lost the thread of the king's talk because I became engrossed in speech with Prince Arivarates, who sat on my left. He was eager to hear about the Eastern lands. From an account of our adventures I passed naturally to the subject of money.

"Think us not ungrateful, O Prince," I said. "However, if you send us off without an obolos, 'twill go hard with us." I explained about the need for money to keep Aias fed, and the unexpectedly heavy costs of travel.

"That may be," said the prince, "but you cannot ask us to give up such a sum when Alexander's generals have ravaged our land and forced us to wage a costly war against them."

"If the Alexander were here, no doubt your father and he could arrange things peacefully. But why should we be punished for Antigonos' deeds? Or why should Xenokrates, for whom the fifty talents are meant?"

The prince shrugged. "As Alexander is head of the Greek confederacy as well as king of Macedonia, all Hellenes share responsibility for his acts. Besides, is it not a Greek saying that necessity knows no law but to conquer? Well, we have the necessity of conquering Antigonos, and this money is useful for that purpose."

I pressed the prince further. "As the Kappadokians deem themselves a cultured folk, they should do all they can to forward an enterprise of benefit to all mankind. It is their duty to posterity."

The prince became nettled. "Do not presume too far on our generosity, Hipparch. You will only anger my father, and then it will be worse for you." He dropped his voice. "Let this business lapse for the nonce. You cannot leave for some time in any case."

"Wherefore not?"

"Weather. You know not how lucky you were to find Katpatouka so warm at this season."

"Warm!"

"Yes, warm. Any time in the next fortnight a blast of cold may freeze the streams and make the earth as hard as brick. It would slay your tropical monster as quickly as leaving a fish out of water. Now, since you will be our guests for a while, relax, make yourselves agreeable to my father, and perhaps a chance will arise to do something about your money. But do not press the matter further now."

"I thank you for the advice," I said, and turned my attention to the king. The elder Arivarates was telling Pyrron of the glories of Kappadokia. He said:

"First was a great empire of Chatti, with capital at Chattysas. Sixty leagues northwest; I can show you ruins. Phrygians destroyed it."

Pyrron asked: "Could the Chattians be the same as the Keteians mentioned by Homer?"

"Maybe; Chattian kingdom was about the times of that Trojan business. Then we had another kingdom with capital at Pteria; Lydians destroyed it."

"When was this?"

"Times of King Kroisos. And that story about how the Persian king started to burn Kroisos and then changed his mind is a big lie. The rascal burnt himself up, right to the last cinder. Since then, Lydians, Medes, and Persians rule this countries. But now the land of the two-headed eagle is free again and, by Ma, we will stay free! We are a great people with a great past and a great futures, but nobody knows about us. You Hellenes say: 'Kappadokia? Oh yes, that is where our strongest slaves come from! Bah! So maybe you will stay and write history, yes?"

"I don't know, King Arivarates," said Pyrron. "I'm frightfully grateful for the offer, but duties call me back to Hellas."

"So? What duties?"

"When I set out, my city, Elis, fitted me out with new clothes and other gear, and money to enable me to join Alexander. In return, I promised to tell the citizens all I learned on my travels. Besides, my sister, with whom I live, will be fretting over my long absence."

"Write her a letters."

"I would, but I'm not authorized to use the royal post, and I've met nobody on his way to Elis for a year."

"I can change a mind about letting you go," said the king.

"No doubt, but a history under duress is likely to be a pretty poor piece of literature. You know how it is with creative intellects."

"So? We shall see, my friend of the godlike intellect ..."

After it was over, I asked Pyrron: "Why not write this history the king wants?"

"My dear old chap, you have no idea of the size of the task of writing a book. Why, Herodotos spent fifteen years in travel and research, preparing to write his history!"

"Perhaps this would not be so big a book."

"It would still be a task of months, if it were done at all creditably."

Pyrron now dwelt in the palace, and the rest of us in the barracks of the royal guard. For the next two days I had little to do but see that the elephant was well cared for and listen to the grumbles of my men about Kappadokian cooking.

Then there came a day of stir and bustle in the town. No Kappadokian said aught to us, as most could speak no tongue we knew and all were taciturn by nature. But as I lunched with Pyrron, Vardanas, and Klonios, in came Prince Arivarates.

"I have been looking for you," he said. "The news we have been awaiting has come. Antigonos has passed through Ipsos to attack us. My father and I ride to meet him as soon as the levies come in."

"I hope you come through it sound," I said. I could not quite wish success to his arms, as Antigonos was after all another servant of my master King Alexander.

"Thank you, Hipparch. Now, before I go, there is this to be said. You people worry about your money, which my father wishes to keep."

"That's a soft way of putting it," I said.

"Then hearken. Next to beating the Hellenes, my father wants that history of Katpatouka more than anything. If you can write it whilst we are gone—well, I make no promises, but something might be done."

"I should be glad to," said Pyrron, "but how could I compose a work of that size in half a month?"

"There is not so much Katpatoukan history to record as you seem to think. Seek out Rhatotes, the high priest of Ma, who is also my father's librarian. He knows as much of our history as any man and has custody of the records."

"I fear nobody will be able to read my scrawl," said Pyrron.

"Then tell Zardokes—my father's second secretary—to copy your writing in a neat hand. This need not be an immortal monument of scholarship; I do but wish something to show my father on our return."

Pyrron sighed. "I'll do my best."

So we went to the temple of Ma. We had to wait hours to see Rhatotes, as he was busy with prayers and sacrifices to the Kappadokian war goddess.

When Rhatotes at last received us, we found him a forbidding-looking man: tall, gaunt, stooped, and hook-nosed, like a plucked vulture. Despite the chill, he was sweating and blood-spattered from beating animals' brains out with a club. When he knew our mission, however, he was helpful enough. He took us back to the palace and showed us the library.

A small chest held all the documents bearing on the history of Kappadokia: a few summaries of the land's history, traditions, and legends, some letters and treaties from the days of Persian rule, and a few inscribed clay tablets from ancient times. These last, however, were in tongues that had long been out of use. Not even Rhatotes could read them.

Pyrron turned the documents over. A gleam came into his eyes, like a horse that feels its oats.

"I'll do it!" he said. "Leon! Fetch Zardokes, please. Tell him to bring all his writing materials. And hasten!"

I was astonished, not only because Pyrron almost never asked favors, but also because his manner had utterly changed. When I came back with the scribe, Pyrron and Rhatotes were sorting the documents so that the oldest were on top. Then, under Pyrron's direction, Rhatotes began translating, slipping into Persian when he could not think of the Greek for something. Pyrron scribbled notes and sometimes dictated passages to Zardokes.

I marveled to watch him. Pyrron, hitherto self-effacing, good-natured, lazy, awkward, and vague, was transformed into a brisk, energetic, forceful fellow with a godlike ability to grapple with the mass of strange names and unfamiliar facts. To watch him aroused the same awe that one feels when watching a skilled sculptor shape a block or a skilled fencing master show the methods of fighting with and without armor.

He looked up at me. "Oblige me by running along, Leon," he said. "It distracts me to have somebody staring at me when I'm working."

Thereafter I minded my own business, namely the hipparchia. Two days later the levies from the district round Mazaka had all marched in for the weapontake. I watched King Arivarates and his son (who was really his nephew and adopted son) ride off at the head of their mailed lancers, with the gilded two-headed eagle bobbing on its pole before them. They were followed by hundreds of Kappadokian peasants with spears and axes on their shoulders.

The Kappadokian horse, I thought, could ride over anything Antigonos could bring against them. On the other hand, the foot, though made up of big sturdy-looking men, was neither armed nor drilled to the point where they could stand against the long Macedonian pikes.

That night Pyrron, whom we had not seen since he began his work, came to dinner with the rest of us. His eyes were red from staying up late and peering at old papyri by lamplight.

"How goes the history of Kappadokia?" said Vardanas.

"Coming, coming. The first section is nearly complete, down to the time of the Lydian conquest."

"Wonderful!" said I.

"Not so wonderful, considering that hardly anything has come down from distant times. I'm sure more historical materials once existed, but the demons of destruction—fire and water, strife and stupidity, mice and mold—have had their way with them. Luckily I was able to squeeze a few traditions out of the king before he rode away. Now I'm trying to locate the oldest men amongst the educated class around Mazaka, to see if they can tell me anything."

Vardanas said: "Tell us what you have learned so far. Give us a summary."

Pyrron said: "I'm sorry, old boy, but I can't."

"Diplomatic secrets?"

"No. If I told you the tale, I should never get it written. That's how it is with writing. I can be full of enthusiasm over some treatise I'm going to write and even get some of it on papyrus. But then some chap invites me to dinner and begs me to tell it to him. As I'm fond of talking and don't like to refuse a reasonable request, I do. Then I find that all my vital force has leaked away, like wine from a punctured skin, and the work is never completed." He sighed. "That's no doubt why I have never written a real book in my life, though I've collected material for a hundred."

"Then dinna even think of telling us," I said. "For a chance to get our lovely silver back, we can bridle our curiosity."

The next half month we spent in repairing our gear and resting up for the next leg of the journey. When rain roared on the roofs, when snow scudded through the streets, when the bitter wind howled around the corners, we were glad to be behind Mazaka's stout stone walls and not out on the bleak tableland.

Then the weather softened. I went to the commandant of the garrison, Tibios, and asked him to lend us back our weapons. I explained:

"The lads have been pressing on for so long that they're out of practice at formal maneuvers. I desire to exercise them."

At first, Tibios curtly refused. He was sure we were up to some desperate scheme. Our position was a little odd, as we were technically captured enemies.

At last I set Vardanas on Tibios. Soon the Persian's charm had softened the old Kappadokian's suspicions, like butter in the sun, and he agreed to joint exercises with his men. Thus, he frankly explained, there would always be a strong armed force to watch us. So we galloped and threw our darts in company with Tibios' gray-bearded veterans and fuzzy-cheeked striplings.

Otherwise Mazaka was a sleepy little capital, the more so when the king and most men of fighting age had left. A minister named Myattales ran the kingdom in the king's absence, but he let us alone and we had no dealings with him.

I saw almost nought of Nirouphar, who dwelt with the king's womenfolk and, Vardanas told me, thrilled them with her tales of feminine fashions in great cities like Sousa and Babylon.

Rumors swept the city: King Arivarates had repelled Antigonos; Antigonos had defeated and slain the king; the king had wiped out all the Macedonians and was advancing to the conquest of Phrygia ...

At last a rider galloped in from the west and vanished into Myattales' study. The minister came out on the front steps of the palace. A trumpeter blew a flourish. When hundreds of Mazakans had gathered, Myattales made a short announcement, which was translated for me as follows:

"Our Lord the king has defeated the Hellenes. Those of the enemy who were not slain or captured have fled back to Phrygia. The king returns at the head of his army tomorrow or the next day. Give thanks to Ma for this victory."

The Mazakans nodded, grunted a few approving words, and went their ways. Not for them any bonfires or drunken revels in celebration!

Two days later the king rode in. First came his long column of heavy horse; then his peasant levies; then groaning wainloads of wounded; then several score of wretched-looking prisoners; and lastly a mounted rear guard.

There were speeches on the front steps of the palace, of which I understood not a word. The royal family came out to kiss the king and his son, the latter with his arm in a sling. Pyrron, red-eyed and swaying (for he had not slept in two nights), stepped up and handed a big roll of papyrus to the king.

"This is the history of the noble and ancient kingdom of Kappadokia," he said. "If it looks rather messy, O King, that's because it is a mere rough draft with corrections. Zardokes will soon have a smooth copy prepared for you."

The king opened the scroll, glanced it over, then folded Pyrron in a bearlike hug and gave him a loud smacking kiss.

"So? You are a good boys, even if you are a fornicating Hellene!" he roared. "Now you have to write another chapter, about how old Arivarates beat the skirt off Antigonos! I tell you about it at dinner."

At the feast of victory, the king related with gusto how he had caught the invaders in the marshes south of Lake Tatta. The turning point of the battle came when Antigonos sent a company of Macedonian foot across ground that turned out to be boggy.

"They got stuck," said the king. "My peasant boys do not like to face men in armor, because we are too poor for that kind of luxuries. But now they swarmed over these poor stuck Greeks, and those huge long spears did no good at close quarters. Everywhere was Hellenes in shiny breastplates shouting 'Quarter! Mercy!' Well, we chased them halfway to Ikonion. Antigonos rode off with his cavalry, and some of their foot got away into the hills this side of Ikonion. But I do not think Antigonos will try another invasion this years."

The weather now turned balmy. I went to Prince Arivarates and said: "Could we now set out for Ephesos?"

"I think so," said he, with his usual air of gravity beyond his years. "You will still get a lot of cold wind, but except in a bad year we seldom have snow so late."

"How about our money?"

A smile lit the prince's somber young face. "As I expected, my father is delighted with Pyrron's history. So you will find your money chest restored to you intact." He lowered his voice. "In fact, since you have been hard put to it to keep to your schedule of expenses, I have taken the liberty of adding twenty talents to it on my own responsibility."

"O Prince!" I cried. I knelt and kissed his hand.

"I feel we can afford it, because we captured Antigonos' pay cart containing hundreds of talents' worth of money. Antigonos either expected to campaign in Katpatouka all summer or hoped to bribe some of our barons to go over to him. But pray say nothing of this. My father admires Greek philosophy, but not that much."

"What's to become of our slaves?"

"Those my father is determined to keep. One, a good Katpatoukan, will be freed. The other my father will put to good use. If you must have more, you can buy them in Alexander's territory."

Thus we set out from Mazaka on the second of Mounychion. The king and the prince saw us off with great cordiality. The king slapped our backs, kissed us, and bellowed jokes, while the prince bowed gravely and shook our hands.

In later years, after Alexander's death, Eumenes invaded Kappadokia on the orders of Perdikkas the regent. Eumenes defeated and captured old King Arivarates, whom he crucified along with his chief men. Prince Arivarates escaped to Armenia. During the wars of the Successors, the prince retook Kappadokia with the aid of Arkloathos of Armenia. There he yet reigns, and very ably, too. So, belike, the elder Arivarates' boast about the freedom of Kappadokia may come true after all.

King Arivarates sent a small troop of light horse with us. He said it was to protect us, but I think it was to make sure we did no warlike acts against him.

Returning to Tyana, we stopped to witness the spring festival in honor of the local goddess of fertility. The priests built a bonfire, dug a trench, and filled it with glowing coals from the fire. Whilst a band of musicians played a monotonous little tune on lyres and flutes and drums, six priestesses in paint and bangles girt up their skirts to the knee and walked the length of the trench barefoot on the hot embers.

Somebody belched behind me. It was Vardanas, who had filled himself with barley beer at the inn. "I can do that," he said.

"Each to that at which he excels," I said. "You'd best leave fire-walking to the fire-walkers, laddie."

"I will wager I can walk farther on those coals than you!"

"Out on you! I had all the burns I want in the dungeons of Babylon."

"Fie! You are no sportsman. I will show you!"

Vardanas sat down and pulled off his boots. Then he rolled up his trouser legs and walked to the end of the trench.

"For the honor of the Persian race!" he cried, and stepped out upon the coals.

He made his first step without flinching, but then something went wrong. With a yell, Vardanas hopped off the embers, sat down, and clutched one foot. Everybody—Thessalians, Kappadokians, priests, and priestesses—burst into laughter. Vardanas wept, not I am sure from pain but from shame.

"The mouse has tasted pitch!" I said. "Get your bear-grease ointment, Elisas. Here's a fire-walking priestess who could not quite make it."

From Tyana the road took us to Kybistra and thence to Laranda in Lykaonia. Our escort turned back at the Lykaonian border. Lykaonia is mostly high, cold, barren, windswept plain, broken here and there by small conical mountains. We kept close watches, because the Lykaonians have the name of lawless hillmen who rob travelers. Nought befell us, however, except that once a pair of huge lionlike sheep dogs attacked us and had to be slain.

Now that we were back in Alexandrine territory, I took up again my series of reports to the king, explaining the interruption. I urged Alexander to come to terms with the worthy Arivarates. On the other hand, I warned him against Harpalos, who, I was sure, was looting the treasury to an indecent degree.

There was a chance of these letters' falling into Harpalos' hands as they passed through Tarsos, but I thought it unlikely that the treasurer would try to stop and censor all the royal mail. In any case, honor demanded that I make a serious attempt to avenge myself on those who had injured me or tried to. As the Persians say, kindness to the lion is cruelty to the lamb.

In Laranda, soldiers of Antigonos' garrison stopped us, as we had plainly ridden from hostile territory. Their commandant, a solemn Spartan named Nabis, walked up and down, looking gloomily at us.

"You tell a fine tale," he said in Doric dialect, "but what proof have you-all got?"

"Plenty," I said. "Hand me the documents, Klonios. Here is a letter from Eumenes, in which all loyal subjects are commanded in the king's name to help us and further the expedition. Here's authority to requisition governmental fodder. Here's a letter from Menes, viceroy of Syria, to Philoxenos ..."

Nabis made a show of studying the documents, pursing his shaven upper lip and frowning over the edge of the papyrus at us. As he sometimes held them upside down, methinks any pieces of writing would have done as well. At last he said:

"I reckon you-all can go on. In fact, the sooner you get that two-tailed monster out of town, the better I'll like it."

Off we went on the road from Laranda to Derbe. As spring came on, the trees along the watercourses put out new leaves and the tamarisks turned pink. The brown earth became green with new grass, and flowers carpeted the plains. Herds of wild asses grazed hock-deep in the growth and galloped off braying as we neared them.

Spring also filled the hipparchia with new energy. Though it seemed we had been on the road since our childhood, home at last began to look real instead of like some mythical place beyond the edge of the world. I no longer had to drive and harry my people to keep them moving. Smelling their oats, they often hurried me on faster than I intended to go.

The Thessalians began talking of their plans against the day of their discharge. One would open a shop, another buy a farm, and a third pay off his father's debts, while a fourth meant to spend all his bonus on wine and women and then go to Macedonia to seek service under Antipatros, the regent.

I made no more progress with Nirouphar, though the spring made my love burn brighter and more painfully. She was pleasant and gay and courteous, but then so she was to all. Pyrron's promise to hold aloof from her was gradually forgotten, until she was spending almost as much time with the philosopher as formerly. I once mentioned the fact to Vardanas, hoping to rouse him to renew his ban.

He grinned. "Not Auramasdas himself could keep my fair sister from conversing with somebody. On the whole I think she is, safer with the philosopher than with you, highly though I esteem you. He is not a lustful man, whereas you ..."

"I am as virtuous as the next!" I said.

"Ah, but do you remember that girl in Karmana, the one with a cast in her eye?"

"Let's not rake old ashes. For that matter, I recall some of your escapades, too."

"But I do not even pretend to be a safe escort for blooming young virgins!"

From Derbe the road led us to Ikonion. According to the Lykaonians, Ikonion was the first place to emerge from the waters after the Flood. Here the gods, to repeople the earth, made men of mud and caused the winds to blow the breath of life into them. From Ikonion we made a long march northwest to Ipsos, where we rejoined the Persian royal highway.

Now the going became easy. With the coming of spring, however, the splendid road was thronged with traffic, which ofttimes slowed our progress until we could edge past. After a while, we took to putting the elephant at the head of our column instead of the tail. Then when Vardanas or Klonios rode ahead, shouting: "Way! Way for King Alexander's men!" the travelers took one look at Aias and leapt for the ditch. Sometimes they kept right on running across the nearest fields.

There were horses, mules, asses, camels, oxen, and men afoot. There were chariots, carts, and sleds. There were herds of sheep, goats, and cattle. Platoons of Greek or Macedonian soldiers strode eastwards in heavy Iphikratean marching boots, while gangs of slaves, mostly swart Gandarians and Indians captured in the last two years' battles, shuffled westwards on bare feet, with hanging heads.

Betimes a Persian postman galloped by, blowing a horn to clear the way. Whenever one flew past, we all sang out: "Neither snow, nor rain ..." Again, a solitary Hellene, wrapped in a cloak and his face shaded by a traveling hat, plodded along with a walking stick or jogged on a mule, on his way eastwards to seek his fortune or just to see the world.

The road led us along a river between the massive Paroreian Mountains to Prymnessos, which sprawled on flat land with a castle on a crag above it. Thence we marched to Keramonagora, where they make fine carpets. Then we entered gracious Lydia, with its vine-clad hillsides and fields of wheat and purple crocuses, from which the folk make saffron. We saw the long-robed Lydians at their wild rites in honor of Kybele.

And thus, on the last day of Mounychion, we came down the Hermos River to Sardeis, the jewel of western Anatolia, often destroyed but always rising again from its ruins. The city bustles with business and manufacture like a Syrian town. The streets near the market place are lined with racks on which dyed stuffs hang to dry; the spring breeze stirred their billows of crimson and yellow.

South of the city rises Mount Tmolos, crowned by a marble arcade built by the Persians as a lookout. From the city below, the arcade is a mere white fleck topping the dark forested slopes. The mountain thrusts out a spur towards Sardeis, and on this spur stands the citadel. Thither we took our way.

Antigonos son of Philippos, viceroy of Phrygia and Lydia, was a tall, lean man, even taller than Kanadas. He had one cold blue eye in a somber, scarred face with a close-cut graying beard. He limped and rested his weight on a stick.

"A scratch I got at Lake Tatta," he said. "It will soon be well. What is your mission?"

I told my tale, which I now knew so well that I could repeat it in my sleep. I ended: "How is the king? I heard in Kilikia that he was badly wounded. Have you had any later news, General?"

"Yes, I had a letter from Eumenes but the other day. The Alexander has quite recovered and is now nearing the land of Patala, in the delta of the Indus River." Antigonos stared piercingly at me with his one eye. "Now that you have given me the official explanation of your journey, suppose you give me the real reason."

My jaw dropped with surprise. "This is the real reason, O Viceroy! What thought you?"

"Come, come, Hipparch, tell me not that the king let a score of good Thessalian cavalrymen go while they still could fight?"

"That he did. After all, I have been eight years from home, and some of the lads nine."

"That is your tale, is it?"

"Aye, good sir."

"What message did the king give you for Antipatros?"

"The Alexander never mentioned the regent's name to me." I became angry. "If you doubt me, write the king yourself. You should have an answer ere we sail from Ephesos. By Herakles, I had my orders from the king himself, as my documents prove, and I know not what call there is to question me like a criminal!"

"Documents can be forged," said Antigonos. He fondled the sheets of papyrus I had handed him, then suddenly made a motion as if to tear them up.

"Ea!" I shouted, laying hand to hilt.

Antigonos held out the documents to me with a small grim smile. "You see, my boy, you are not so free and independent as you seem to think. I could confiscate or destroy these documents, and then where would you be? Or I could have you crucified for threatening me." He paused, looking through me with that one terrible eye. "Come."

He led me to a room in the citadel where several other Macedonians sat over a wine jug, though the wine did not seem to have cheered them.

"My fellow commanders of western Anatolia," said Antigonos. "Kalas, viceroy of Mysia and Hellespontine Phrygia; Asandros, viceroy of Karia; Pausanias, commandant of the forces at Sardeis." To the others he said: "This fierce-looking young fellow is Leon of Atrax, of King Alexander's mercenary Greek horse. Or so he claims."

"Leon!" cried Kalas. "Are you not one of those who joined the Thessalians at Gordion?"

"Aye. Thank you for remembering me, O Kalas." When I first joined Alexander's army, Kalas commanded the Thessalian Division. I had not seen him for seven years.

"What is your rank now?" he asked.

"Troop leader, in command of a special hipparchia on detached duty."

"Not even a brigadier? Hermes attend us! You disappoint me. You were always bold in battle and crafty in council, as I remember."

"But then I'm no Macedonian, let alone an old companion of the king. So I'm lucky to have risen as far as I have."

Antigonos said: "Then you are he who you say you are, after all."

I passed over the remark and said: "What brings all you gentlemen together?"

Antigonos spoke with a smile that was half sneer. "This you might call a recrimination party. We had an admirable plan—oh, a masterly plan—for a three-pronged attack on the Anatolian foreigners. But the gods saw matters otherwise. I have been beaten by Ariarathes of Kappadokia." (He gave the king's name the Hellenized form.) "Kalas has been beaten by Bas of Bithynia, and Asandros has spent the month in a fruitless chase through the Pisidian hills after the wild mountaineers. Now each of us seeks a way to blame the others for his failure. I, for example, lay the whole collapse to their insistence on attacking when we lacked enough men to face the barbarian hordes. For pointing this out, my dear comrades here impugned my courage."

"I said we should never have enough men, and by Zeus I still say it!" cried Kalas. "How can we, when as soon as we get a company of dung-footed peasants whipped into shape, the king orders them to march off eastward to join him in some foolhardy scheme like raping the queen of the Amazons?"

Asandros said: "You people may carry on your quarrels, but I had rather find a remedy for our woes. For one thing, let us not talk of failures and collapses. Let us rather say the enemies' dispositions made it desirable for us to execute strategic withdrawals according to plan."

"Bugger that fancy talk!" said Pausanias. "Antigonos is right. You were trounced, and you know it."

Antigonos said to me: "Pausanias spent the time sitting here on his fat arse, so he is in a position to contemn all the rest of us."

"Furies take you, Antigonos!" cried Pausanias. "Those were my orders. If you spent more time on the army and less on trying to make a second Athens out of Smyrna—"

"Hold your tongue, you dog-faced sodomite!" roared Antigonos.

The generals all sprang to their feet, shouting and shaking fists. They even forgot their Greek and began cursing each other in Macedonian, which I could barely understand. Ere it came to blows, Antigonos held up his hands and bellowed for silence.

"What impression must we make on our young visitor?" he said. "He has the king's confidence—or so he claims—and will undoubtedly write our divine master an account of this meeting. That is, if no—ah —sad accident befall him first." He leered at me. "Lucky for you, stripling, that you arrived when we were all together. Thus none dares do you ill, lest the others know. Ah, a band of brothers, a band of brothers!"

Asandros said: "We should get on together better if you were not always kicking our rumps, Antigonos."

"Maybe, but some people's rumps cry out to be booted. And now to business. Leon has just come through Kappadokia, with Ariarathes' blessing. He can therefore tell us about that land. Question him, fellow bunglers."

They questioned me for two hours. I answered with fair candor. However, as I had a kindly feeling for the two Arivaratai, I puffed up the Kappadokian forces to twice or thrice their real strength, to discourage the Macedonians from another attack.

When they ran out of questions on Kappadokia, they sounded me out on a plan to send the elephant to Athens with the Indians and join their armies with my Thessalians for their next campaign. I politely refused, and presently they dismissed me with authority to draw fodder. As I left the chamber, their voices rose in anger behind me.

We spent a day in Sardeis resting and repairing. I went with Pyrron and Vardanas to look at the tomb of King Alyattes of Lydia, and at the gardens which Artaxerxes the Resolute planted with his own hands. It is said this Persian king had a passion for gardening that surpassed his interest in the duties of kingship.

I saw no more of Antigonos and am not sorry for it. He terrified me. He was a strange man. Towards Alexander he was loyal whilst the king lived, but after that he played his own game in the most ruthless and crafty manner. Those who served under him swore by his kindness and justice, but his rivals among the Successors found him a bitter and malignant foe. It took the combined forces of most of the other Successors to finish him off. Old One-eye fell at last at the battle of Ipsos a few years ago, being more than eighty years old.

We rode on to Ephesos. Here a broad and beautiful avenue leads down from the theater on a hillside, through the city to the quays, where the Kaystros makes a sharp turn and empties into the sea. Vardanas remarked:

"One can tell one is in a Greek city with eyes shut, from the way the people reek of onions and olive oil!"

I stopped in the market place to ask after Philoxenos, the admiral, and got a dozen contradictory directions. I finally found my man walking along the quays and looking at the shipping. He was a good-looking brown-bearded Macedonian, not much older than I. When I told him of my mission and showed him my documents, his eyes lit up with interest.

"I will do it on two conditions, Hipparch," he said with a grin.

"And what are they, O Admiral?"

"One: that if ever you write a book about your journey, you will give me credit for helping you, thus making my name immortal."

"I, write a book? What a daft idea! But then, General Apollodoros made the same suggestion in Babylon. If I do, I'll surely tell of your help. And the other condition?"

"That you give me a ride on the monster."

"Nought easier."

I pushed through the crowd around the elephant and called up to Kanadas to help the admiral up. I turned the hipparchia over to Klonios, told him to find a camp site, and climbed up on the elephant, too. By now I had overcome some of my feeling that I had to manage every detail of the hipparchia's existence myself.

"Come with us, Vardanas," I called.

"The naval anchorage lies yonder," said Philoxenos, pointing.

Kanadas turned Aias' head. Presently we came to the sailors' village, with long rows of shacks and thousands of sailors and rowers and their slatternly women and swarming children, all of whom rushed up to see the elephant. Philoxenos asked me about Aias' weight, but I had to give him the same answer that I had Menes, to wit, that I knew it not.

There were scores of ships. Many of the smaller ones were hauled out on the beach, whilst the rest rode at anchor off shore. The great majority were common two- and three-bankers, but there were a few larger ships looming over the rest like tuna amongst herrings. Two great gilded fivers were rowing in from exercises.

Philoxenos pointed again. "I think that is our ship, the Destroyer. Ē! Thoas! Bring a boat! Kylon! Run and fetch Iason!"

Presently a boat appeared, rowed by a burly sailor. From the other direction a man came out of the store sheds at the end of the sailors' village and walked along the beach towards us.

"This is Iason of Rhodes, my naval architect," said Philoxenos. "These are Leon of Atrax and Vardanas of Sousa, on a special mission from the king. Tell Iason what you have told me."

I did so, though I had to repeat myself several times because Iason's attention kept wandering to the elephant. Philoxenos added: "We shall row out to the Destroyer to look her over with a view to converting her."

"Oh dear! What a wicked thing to do to such a pretty ship!" said Iason. "A mere floating pigpen—or elephantpen, I ought to say."

"The elephant will make her stink no worse than she does," said Philoxenos. "Let us go."

He and Iason hopped into the boat. I got in more cautiously, knowing that I was no experienced mariner. Vardanas said:

"Leon, had I not better stay here?"

"What for?"

"Well—ah—Kanadas might need help with the elephant."

"Rubbish! Get in."

Looking miserable, he did so, clutching the gunwales. The sailor rowed us out to the Destroyer. This was the biggest ship of all, an eighter. As landlubbers sometimes ask how a ship can have eight banks of oars, let me explain that no ship does, for it would be so high and its uppermost oars so long that rowers could not manage it. The Destroyer had eighty oars arranged in four banks of twenty each, two banks on each side. Five rowers pulled each oar of the upper banks, whilst three pulled each oar of the lower banks. As five and three make eight, the ship was called an eighter.

We climbed a ladder of rope, with wooden rungs, that hung down the side. Sailors helped us over the rail. As we stood on deck at last, Vardanas, looking greener than ever, whispered:

"My first time aboard a ship, Leon! Would it were my last!"

Philoxenos took us on a walk around the mighty ship. The Destroyer was a good sixty paces long, with a raised forecastle bearing two light catapults for throwing darts, and a raised quarter-deck including the officers' cabins and a pair of steering oars. Down the middle of the ship ran a raised grating of sections that could be taken up. Philoxenos stepped into an open section of the grating and led us down a ladder to the oar deck.

Here all was dark and cavernous, the only light being that which came through the oar ports and the grating overhead. The oar deck was empty of life, save for mice. Though the ship was in commission, the rowers came aboard only when it was about to put out. The place stank. The oars lay lengthwise in bundles.

Philoxenos looked about, fingering his beard. "What make you of it, Iason?"

The Rhodian said: "Maybe we could take out the middle third of the rowers' benches and make a pen in their place. How much space does your little old monster need, Hipparch?"

"He should have room to turn around in. He is about seven cubits high and ten cubits long."

"That would mean taking out at least seven or eight rowing spaces on each side—"

There was a loud thump, followed by curses in Persian. Vardanas, the tallest present, had struck his head on an overhead beam.

"That made me see stars all right," he said, rubbing his head. "If it be too low for me, how would you ever get an elephant in here?"

"A right smart point, blessed one," said Iason. "Can you make him lie down for the whole voyage?"

"I'm sure not," I said. "Certainly he could never crawl into a low space like a badger creeping into its hole."

"Then there's nothing for it but to take up a section of the main deck, letting the elephant's back show to the whole world."

"Do not take it up clear across the ship," said Philoxenos. "It would make it too hard to get from bow to stern."

"I can leave a catwalk two planks wide on each side." Iason hopped down to the lowest part of the oar deck, next to the side of the ship. He stamped on the floor boards. "Look here, you-all, these planks would never, never hold that weight. Your monster's feet would go through the bottom of the ship as if it was papyrus."

Philoxenos said: "There are those timbers we salvaged from the wreck of the Arrogant. Could we lay a course of them over the regular floor, at right angles to the planks?"

"I should think so, if we sawed them to size."

I said: "I see not how you plan to get Aias on and off the ship. There are no cranes or hoists in the world for lifting such a weight."

Iason said: "Tell you what: I'll build a ramp down from the main deck to the oar deck. How steep a slope can the elephant walk?"

"I know not, though I should think you could work it by running the ramp the length of the pen."

Iason clapped a hand to his forehead. "By the Dog! Here's the worst obstacle yet! I daren't put the elephant anywhere but right in the center of the ship, for fear he'll make it list or ride out of trim. But that's where the mast is."

"We can unship the mast for the voyage to Peiraieus," said Philoxenos. "This time of year the winds are too strong and gusty for safe sailing anyway. For that matter, you will have to take out some of these pillars."

"I can't take out too many, lest the hull be weakened."

Philoxenos touched an overhead beam. "But these deck girders will have to go, as they are right where the elephant's body will be. Without the girders your pillars will be mere posts, serving no purpose but for the elephant to scratch himself against."

"Herakles!" said Iason. "That's true. Let me think. Let's not get hasty, best ones, or we're liable to send both ship and creature to the bottom of the Aegean."

Vardanas paled at these words. At last Iason said: "I reckon I can run some heavy timbers along the stringer angles to strengthen the sides, in that way making up for the loss of the girders."

"We must block the oar ports in the waist, too," said Philoxenos.

"That's all very grand," I said, "but how shall Aias reach the deck?"

Philoxenos said: "We can build a mole out to deep water. I have enough idle rowers and sailors, eating their heads off at three or four oboloi a day, to do the job in a few days."

"Then how shall we get him off at Peiraieus?"

"They have some real fine piers there," said Iason.

"Aye, but how high from the water are the tops of these piers?"

"Oh, maybe three feet."

"That leaves the main deck of the ship several feet above the pier level, and Aias cannot jump nor yet climb down a rope ladder. You'd better build a big gangplank for him, lest we have to sail back to Ephesos with him for want of means of landing him."

Next day the naval camp stirred with activity. Iason and his helper went out to the ship with writing tablets and measuring cords. Sailors hauled timbers from the sheds to the beach at a point near the Destroyer, which was towed in towards shore until she almost touched bottom. From the ship rose a mighty banging as carpenters knocked out the pegs that kept the deck planks and other parts in place.

Whilst waiting for the work to be accomplished, my friends and I began touring the neighborhood. First, we visited the site of the new temple of Artemis. For years the Ephesians had labored and taxed themselves to replace the one that Herostratos had burnt thirty years before to immortalize his name. The temple stands on the plain, eight furlongs from the center of the city. The base had been finished, and most of the columns were up. The half-built temple was shrouded in masses of scaffolding, and the atmosphere rang with the sound of hammers.

Pyrron went up to a tall, handsome, middle-aged man with his hands full of plans, who was directing the building. He said: "I am Pyrron son of Pleistarchos. Are you not Deinokrates? I think you used to know my old painting teacher ..."

Pyrron presented Deinokrates to Vardanas, Nirouphar, and me, saying: "This is the man who laid out Alexandreia-in-Egypt."

I could never have clone as Pyrron did, because I am overcome by shyness before men of godlike intellect. However, Deinokrates greeted Pyrron and the rest of us affably; so heartily, in fact, that nobody else had much chance to say a word. Not even Nirouphar, whose tongue was seldom still for long, could break into the spate of talk.

"Welcome! Rejoice!" he cried in a Macedonian accent. "Look at our new temple! Will it not be magnificent? Four times as large as the temple of Athena Polias in Athens! Where is your elephant? I saw it the day it arrived. Magnificent beast!"

"Aias is at the camp," I said.

"Could I ride on it? Splendid, splendid! I shall be there. Know you what I should like to do? I yearn to carve Mount Tmolos into a statue of Alexander riding an elephant! But alas, the king turned down my proposal to make Mount Athos into a statue of him, holding a city in one hand. He said nobody would live in the city because of lack of nearby farm land to feed them. Ea, Praxiteles!"

A white-bearded man came out of the temple's interior. The great sculptor was as shy and quiet as the architect was boisterous and forward. When he murmured "Rejoice!" Deinokrates boomed:

"You must give Praxiteles a ride on the elephant, too. Now let me show you what we plan. The columns will be forty cubits high. As you see, they will be the most massive columns in the world, to strengthen the structure against earthquakes. Round the base will run a sculptured parapet wall ..."

When we got away, my head rang with architectural terms like "the small Ionic volutes of the capitals" and "the large dentils of the bed mold of the cornice"—most of which I did not understand.

I got back to camp to find that Kanadas, Siladites, and Elisas had worked out a money-making scheme with the elephant. Siladites guided the beast, Kanadas helped riders on and off, while Elisas chanted in his throaty Syrian Greek:

"Come hither all Ephesians! Come hither all Ephesians! Ride the mountainous monster from the deadly jungles of distant India! One little obolos, one sixth of a drachma, for the thrill of a lifetime! Ride the greatest beast the gods ever made ... !"

They had already collected a handsome pile of small coins. Had this happened at the start of our journey, I should have demanded that the money be turned into our general funds. Thus I should have caused much bad feeling for the sake of a few oboloi. Now, however, I merely smiled, praised the mercenary trio for their enterprise, and insisted only that Deinokrates and Praxiteles be allowed to ride free because they were great men.

It was one of the prouder moments of my life when that pair came to camp the next day with a slim man of about my own age, who, I learned, was Praxiteles' son Kephisodotos. I rode them back to their temple on Aias' back. I had little to say to the older men, though. Deinokrates kept booming about his grandiose plans for the temple and for even larger structures. Praxiteles seldom spoke at all.

Kephisodotos Praxitelou, however, crowded close to me and spoke in low intimate tones in soft Attic. "This altar work pays well," he said, "but I really yearn to get back to portrait sculpture. I should simply love to do a bust of you, Hipparch."

"An ugly lump like me? You're daft, man!"

"Not at all, dear boy. Just look at those strong planes of your face! And these godlike arm muscles!" He kneaded my arm.

"Well, if you would fain make a statue of Sokrates, you could do worse than take me as a model. 'Tis said I'm spit of the old satyr."

"Do stay in Athens for a few months!" he urged, holding my hand. "As soon as this beastly altar's done, my father and I shall be back in Athens like bullets from a sling. Do stay! There's nothing like being sculptor and model for real intimacy. It'll be just too utterly divine!"

I was not unhappy to reach the temple and bid farewell to my importunate young suitor. I wondered if there was aught amiss with us Thessalians, that we should scorn this masculine love which southern Hellenes regard as the noblest of life's joys. However, along with my father's lumpish form, I had inherited my mother's stubbornness. Therefore, I cast aside my doubts and resolved to cleave to the morals of my family and nation, and let others jeer at them as rustic and barbarous if they would.

The work went swiftly forward on the Destroyer. All day the sound of hammer and saw drifted in from the anchorage. An endless train of men carrying baskets of earth and stones trudged to the beach and out the mole to dump their loads.

The first thing to be finished was the new gangplank. I looked at it and said: "How much weight will it carry?"

Iason said: "The gods know just how much, but it sure is made of thicker timbers than we use for horse gangplanks. I'm willing to bet it'll do."

"Still, I should like to see Aias tread upon it. My guardian spirit tells me it were not safe to trust it without a test."

Iason ordered a crew of rowers to pick up the gangplank and place thick keel timbers under each end, so that it made a kind of bridge a couple of palms above the sand of the beach. Somebody went to fetch Aias and the Indians; somebody else, Philoxenos.

Aias proved contrary when we tried to get him to step on the gangplank. First, when Kanadas headed him towards it, he walked around it. Kanadas said:

"He think it silly to climb over plank when it is easy to go around."

By coaxing and prodding, Aias was persuaded to put his weight on the plank. He had his forefeet solidly planted and had just placed one of his hind feet on the gangplank when it broke with a rending crash. At the loss of support, the elephant jumped off the gangplank with a squeal and started back for our camp at a swift shuffle, despite the yells of the Indians.

"You see?" I said to Iason.

"Immortal Zeus!" said the naval designer. "That thing of yours must outweigh Mount Pelion. We've got to make the gangplank of keel timbers, as if it was the drawbridge of a castle or siege tower."

Philoxenos said: "But think, man: such a gangplank will be so heavy that we could not handle it by simply picking it up and tossing it over the side. We need a mast to hoist it with, but we cannot have one because of the elephant's pen."

Vardanas said: "If all else fail, we could push Aias overboard and let him swim to shore."

"Buckie," I said, "any wight who thinks to push an elephant overboard has his work cut out for him. More like, he'd pick you up with his trunk and toss you into the wine-dark sea. Still, that brings another thought to mind. This clever elephant understands everything the Indians say to him. Now, here's my idea. We'll carry the mast on deck. He shall pick up the mast with his trunk and put it into its hole. Then we'll use the mast to hoist the gangplank into place."

Iason said: "You forget, to do so the elephant's got to stand on the main deck, which can't support such a weight."

"Could you not strengthen this deck as you propose to do with the oar deck?"

"No, because it would take such heavy planking that the ship would be top-heavy and unsafe. But I think I have it. We'll ship, not our regular mast, but a short jury mast with a pulley block at the top. This'll be light enough for the sailors to manhandle into its socket without a hoist, and we'll strengthen the deck only where the elephant has to step to get on and off the ship."

"What's a pulley block?" I asked.

"It's a wonderful new invention: a block of wood with a little old wheel in it, so a man can pull a rope through it more easily than through a simple hook. The king's having the whole fleet outfitted with them."

Whilst we waited for the work to be done, Pyrron led us on a series of all-day picnic parties. We saw the sacred cypress grove of Ortygia, where Leto is said to have given birth to Apollon and Artemis, and where the Kouretes hid the divine children from the wrath of Hera. (I cannot help it if Delos also claims to be the birthplace of Apollon.)

To the south we rode to Priene, where the philosopher Bias was born. We went to busy Magnesia and to Panionion, where people from all Ionia gather in winter for the festival of Helikonian Poseidon.

To the north we visited Kolophon, where the philosopher Xenophanes was born and the seer Kalchas died. The Kolophonians claim that Homer was born there, but so do the people of other Ionian cities. We watched the famous cavalry at its exercises and visited the shrine of Apollon Klarios.

Another time we rode to Teos, where the Ionian Dionysia was in progress. We stayed there over three nights to see some of the plays, games, and religious services.

Here we had one incident. We had gone to a tavern after a play and were awaiting our wine when a gaunt, elderly Hellene sitting near us, who had already drunk deeply, suddenly cried: "That for you, Persian dog!" and spat in Vardanas' face.

At first, Vardanas was too surprised to move. Then, with a snarl like that of a leopard, he went for his dagger. He was bringing it down in a stab across the table when I caught his wrist. He was strong, but I was stronger; for an instant we remained locked in our effort.

"Let's no stab the body ere we know his reason," I said. "Put your knife away, man, and let me question him."

Vardanas relaxed. The Hellene had drawn himself back so that he nearly fell off the bench, his face ashen with terror. All the talk in the tavern had died as people turned to watch us.

"Now," I said to the Hellene, "talk, or you'll have not only my friend whom you insulted to deal with, but me as well."

The man sighed and mumbled: "I am Onetor of Lampsakos. Know that, over thirty years ago, Persian troops of the viceroy Ariobarzanes, serving under the tyrant Philiskos, seized my city. My father, mother, and brothers they slew before my eyes. My wife they raped before my eyes, many times, before they took her away as a slave. My sons they carried off to make into eunuchs. Ever since, I have hoped for a chance to requite those painted fiends, but it has never come. I was never strong enough for soldiering, and when Alexander invaded the Persian Empire I was too old to serve him. Now it's too late. I am a man without honor, lower than a slave. I have failed in my duty of vengeance."

The old man burst into tears. Vardanas, weeping also, went around the end of the table to sit beside Onetor, put his arm around him, and comfort him. He told the Hellene tales of friends and kinsmen of his who had been robbed or enslaved or slain by the invading Macedonians, until half the folk in the tavern were weeping, too. In the end Vardanas swore eternal friendship with old Onetor, and a sobered lot of revelers left the tavern.

I doubt, though, whether any of those there, if ever in later years he took part in the sack of a city, stayed his hand from the usual crimes of such an occasion because of this moment of sympathy for the victims of war in a tavern at Teos.

During our tours of the neighborhood of Ephesos, Pyrron kept up a steady stream of talk. Much of the talk was heavily philosophical, and I could make but little of it. On the other hand, when he guided us round the monuments and buildings and sacred places, telling the myths and histories connected with them, I found it fascinating. How he carried so much knowledge in one mind I know not, though I saw that he replenished his store when he could by questioning the priests and custodians.

But Pyrron was one of those enthusiasts who never know when to stop. From the time she met him in Sousa, his wide knowledge had fascinated Nirouphar. Starved for facts about the great world, she had striven to draw all she could from him. As lecturing was to him what bread and wine are to most folk, he had gladly complied.

Now, howsomever, she found herself stuffed with all the knowledge that one human mind can absorb in such a limited time, and longed to be let out of school for a while. But Pyrron kept relentlessly on, expounding the theories of Pythagoras and Demokritos and other sages about the nature of matter, the form of the cosmos, and the origin and destiny of mankind. So it came to pass that Nirouphar hung less and less eagerly on his words. As a well-bred Persian she was too polite and tactful to tell him to hold his tongue, but betimes I caught her in a yawn. More and more she reined her horse to walk abreast of mine.

Whilst we were touring, Elisas disappeared on his mule into the interior of Anatolia. He came back four days later with a fat roll of carpets, which he had bought in Sardeis.

"Will sell these in Athens," he said. "Why do you not buy Lydian wares to sell, too? Not rugs, please, because if we sell against each other the price will go down. But there are dyes, gaming sets, and other Lydian products that should sell well in Hellas."

I was tempted to take the Syrian's advice, having a bit of the commercial spirit despite my knightly upbringing. But I forbore lest my dignity as an officer suffer from such huckstering. Several of the Thessalians, though, did buy Lydian goods for resale in Athens, and some made neat profits.

At last Philoxenos sent word that the Destroyer was ready, and that fifteen talents of hay and greens had been placed aboard for Aias in the space once occupied by the oars and benches.

On the nineteenth of Thargelion we marched down to the beach. Here we dismounted and turned our horses and mules over to the dealers who had bought them. Many of the men wept, and hugged and kissed their mounts. I tried to kiss Golden good-by, but had to jerk away quickly to keep her from biting off my nose. The wagons and most of the camp gear had been sold, too.

"Let's go," I said, and led the hipparchia out on the mole.

The Destroyer lay at the end of the mole, which sloped up so that its outer end was on a level with the main deck of the ship. Vardanas and I headed the column. Behind us, Kanadas and Siladites led the elephant, who had been acting fractious of late. Then came Pyrron, talking philosophy to Nirouphar, followed by Elisas, the Thessalians, and the women and children. Lastly came the cook, the camp men, and the grooms bearing the heavier burdens, such as some squealing young pigs which Elisas had bought to assure us fresh meat on the voyage.

I stepped on the deck. Behind me, Aias balked. First he reached out his trunk and touched the deck and the railing. Then he extended a foot and tried the deck. Though the planking had been strengthened at this point, it still sagged and creaked beneath the elephant's weight. Aias drew his foot back, squealing.

The Indians jabbered at him, crying "Malmal!" Siladites pulled Aias' ear with his goad. Still the elephant would not move, but shook himself and squealed angrily, lashing the air with his trunk. Behind him, the rest of the hipparchia waited. The children became unruly.

"Elisas!" I said. "Have you any more melons?"

"Nay, Troop Leader. We have not seen a melon since we left Syria."

"What else have we to tempt him?"

The Syrian shrugged, looking at me past Aias' legs. "This is a poor country for fruit this time of year. I will try some dried figs."

Elisas made one of the camp men put down his load. The Syrian opened the bag and took out a small sack of figs. As he feared to squeeze past Aias' legs, he tossed the bag of figs to Kanadas.

The Indian fed a fig to Aias, who flipped it into his mouth with his trunk and reached out for another. Kanadas backed off, trying to lure the elephant forward. But Aias stood rooted to his spot, waving his trunk and grumbling. Several times Kanadas went through this performance, but the elephant refused to move for the sake of a fig. The crowd of Ephesians laughed and jeered. Kanadas said:

"If we could offer big fancy cake, he might move."

I said, "See if there's a big fancy cake in Ephesos. If not, get the best you can. The rest of you, come on forward. Fear not; Aias will no step on you if you're careful."

The hipparchia crowded past the elephant to the deck. Elisas disappeared shorewards.

The camp men and grooms put down their burdens and lined up for their final pay. Tire ship's captain, Polyphron of Miletes, lent me a table on which to spread out money and pay sheets. I paid them off without major disputes and bid them farewell. One said:

"Any time the king sends you to the land of the Hyperboreans, Hipparch, let me know and I'll join you."

"I too," said others. With many farewells, they filed back past the elephant and clown the mole.

"Inaudos!" I said. "Go you not also?"

The Kordian fell to his knees. "Let me come with you, Hipparch! I be your personal servant! Only three oboloi a day, with food and one new suit a year! I save your life, maybe!"

"I hadn't planned on this. Why are you so eager to come? Surely your wife will never track you down in Ephesos, and you can find work here."

"I want to see Athens. Everybody talk about Athens. I feel like fool, to come so near Athens and then turn back."

"All right, we'll carry you on the payroll as far as Athens."

Captain Polyphron said: "I 'ope you'll not wait much longer, 'Ipparch. It's a long row to Samos harbor, and fain would I not reach it after dark."

I told him of the difficulty with Aias. The Indians still stood by the elephant's head, now coaxing and now scolding. At last Kanadas shouted a long sentence in his own language. Then he and Siladites turned their backs, stepped on the deck, and walked down the ramp to the pen.

Aias tried the deck with his forefoot again, then quietly stepped aboard and inched down the ramp after the Indians. The ship's structure groaned with the weight, but held.

Elisas arrived sweating with an enormous loaf of bread under his arm. He panted: "Where is the elephant, Troop Leader? Oh, there he is! The big pig! No fancy cakes in Ephesos, and the baker said it would take all day to make one, so I bought this loaf. And now the polluted elephant goes aboard without awaiting it!"

The little man looked ready to weep. I said: "Well done, Elisas. You may eat the loaf yourself, or share it with Aias if you like."

Aias made himself at home in the pen, which formed a huge square hole in the main deck. So tall was the elephant that as he stood on the reinforced oar deck, his eyes were on a level with the main deck. A wooden parapet around the edges of the pen, however, kept him from actually looking out.

"Kanadas!" I said. "What said you to Aias to change his mind?"

Kanadas smiled a rare smile. "I said: Siladites and I go to Athens on this great ship. We happy to have you come too, but if you will not, then stay here in Ephesos and starve."

Now the four Dahas, who had also been paid off, said farewell. They wrung Vardanas' hand and mine and walked down the mole. They vaulted on their horses. Each whipped out an arrow and loosed it at the sky. Then they galloped off with wild Sakan whoops towards their distant homeland. One of the spare horses they took with them was Vardanas' Rakous, which they promised to deliver to the Persian's kin at Sousa.

Kanadas, watching from the rail, said: "I wish I go with them." A tear ran down his dark face. "It is against my religion to travel over sea."

"Everything's against your religion, laddie," I said.

"Of course. That shows it is very pure, moral religion." He wiped his eyes. "Miss wives and children, too." He glanced at Aias' pen. "Also worry about Mahankal."

"Why? D'you fear he'll be seasick?"

"That will be bad, but is not what I meant. Rutting time due, and if he have no lady elephant he becomes dangerous."

"I know not what to do about that. There's no female beast within ten thousand furlongs who'd fit his monstrous member."

Captain Polyphron blew a trumpet. The anchor weights were drawn up. A three-banker towed us slowly away from the mole, its oars thumping and splashing. The Ephesians cheered and waved.

The towrope was cast off. Polyphron winded his horn again. One by one the oars were thrust out through the oar holes in the ship's side and secured by sailors to the thole pins in the outrigger. Another trumpet blast set our oars in motion. Up they rose, then forward, then down with a splash, and then back. The beat of the coxswain's gavel, slow at first and then quickening, came up to us as we headed out into the blue Aegean under fair spring skies.