An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Four ARIANA

On the fifth day from Garis, we reached a small river, the Chasis. Here stood a ruined caravan shelter and a postal station.

"There was a village," the postmaster explained, pointing to broken ground where outlines of ruined house walls could still be seen. "Raiders destroyed it. Tell King Alexander that if he will build a fort and fix up the sarai, we could lure settlers hither. I for one should like some neighbors friendlier than the jackals."

We crossed the river and pitched our camp. On the far side, Vardanas pointed to a marker of stone.

"The bourne of Ariana!" he cried. "I, Vardanas son of Thraitaunas, welcome you to Ariana! Know you Vindapharnas?" He burst into rolling Persian verse. As nearly as I can translate it, it went:

"Methought this was Zarangiana," said Thyestes. "It is," said Vardanas. "Zarangiana is but one province of Ariana. Ariana is the entire land wherein Arian speech is spoken."

"Mean you Persian?" said Thyestes.

"Persian and Median are the two main tongues that make up Arian. There are also Parthian and Hyrkanian and Baktrian and Sogdian and Karmanian and Sakan, as well as all the petty dialects of these. But welcome to my glorious homeland." Vardanas drew a deep breath, as if the air had become sweeter. For all I could see, though, the west side of the Chasis showed nought but the same vast, dusty desert as the side we had quitted.

"Hero-land or no, I'm for a bath," said Thyestes. "And tell your reeky Dahas to bathe, too, afore we fling them in willy-nilly. 'Tis becoming so we can sense them upwind at ten furlongs."

"Nor would one do you any harm either, laddie," I added.

The Persian looked unhappy. "Fain would I not offend my dear comrades by my stench, Leon. But you know our laws anent rivers."

"This is no river. The postmaster tells me it vanishes into the sand a few leagues from here, and there are no towns below us."

"But where can we bathe with decent modesty?"

"Below yonder patch of reeds. None shall go thither to shame you."

I posted a watch and plunged in. Out near the middle was a chain of pools extensive enough to swim a few strokes in. The Hellenes played boisterously, splashing and ducking one another. We scoured off the dirt with sand, and, at a signal from Siladites, the elephant filled his trunk with water and squirted us.

I was floating on my back when there came a great splashing and shouts of alarm from behind the reeds. I waded downstream to where Vardanas and the Dahas bathed.

The four Sakas danced on the edge of a pool, shouting and pointing. In the pool, Vardanas thrashed as though some sea monster had seized him.

I plunged in and pulled Vardanas out. When he could speak, he said: "I owe you my life, Leon. I was washing in the shallows when a frog leaped out of the reeds and alighted in front of me. In my terror, I fell into the pool. As I cannot swim, I was in peril of drowning when you saved me."

"You had been in no peril had you used your wits," I said. "Yon pool's no deeper than your breast, so you had only to put your feet down. And why should you fear a poor little frog?"

"All Persians fear frogs."

"In Hera's name, why?"

"We are brought up to think them evil spirits. Now that I have traveled and mingled with foreigners, I am not so sure about the spirits. But I cannot overcome the fear put into my soul in childhood."

"If you cannot swim, 'tis time you learned. Come hither and let me show you how to float."

"No, really, I do not feel well enough—"

"Come here! That's a command. I'll hold you ..."

An hour's struggle taught Vardanas to float on his back, though betimes he nearly drowned his teacher when panic seized him and he caught me round the neck. As we were drying ourselves, I said:

"What said that Persian poem about wine-red singing sands?"

"Oh, that. You will see them shortly."

"What?"

"Yes. I believe they lie beyond Phrada, in the Desert of Despair. Our route to Nia lies thither."

"By King Zeus, you Persians have cheerful names for places! 'Twas bad enow knowing we had to cross the Waterless Plain, but the Desert of Despair is worse."

The Hellenes cruelly chaffed Vardanas over his frog panic, calling him "Froggy Vardanas." He took no umbrage, having a ready wit and returning as good as he got.

"I wouldn't make so much of Vardanas' irrational fear of frogs," said Pyrron at our evening's talk. "We all have, I daresay, something we fear beyond reason, did we but admit it. Elisas fears violence of any sort. I fear caves and similar enclosures. What do you fear, Leon?"

"High places," I said. "How about you, Thyestes?"

"Snakes," said he with a shudder.

"Yet snakes are kept as pets in Macedonia," said Pyrron.

"Forbye," I said, "they're kept in Thyestes' native Thessalia, too. We have a fine old mouser named Typhon, six feet long."

Vardanas gave a grunt that implied he cared no more for snakes than for frogs.

"Mauger that, I fears them," said Thyestes. "And how about our Indian Titan? What fear you, mighty Kanadas?"

"Nought," said Kanadas, scowling. "Least of all, you."

"O-ho!" said Vardanas. "I know better. True, Kanadas fears no mortal foe; none is braver in battle. But he fears foreign lands. He fears breaking his complex rules of religious purity. Most of all, he fears the spirit world. Ghosts and demons and fairies and other bogies terrify him."

Kanadas did not deny it. "That is only—how you say?—reasonable. A man I can hew down with my sword; but what can I do against spirits, which kill not only body but also soul?"

"If they exist," said Pyrron.

Thyestes said: "Now dinna tell me you believe no even in spirits, O Pyrron! Is there no limit till your skepticism?"

"All I know is that I've never seen a spirit. When I have examined one thoroughly, I shall believe. Even then I might be mistaken."

Vardanas said: "Having no religion, do you not even believe in a future life?"

Pyrron smiled. "I quote the divine Aischylos:

"Allbody knows there's spirits," said Thyestes. "My uncle Antagoras saw one back in the hundred and tenth Olympiad."

"Does everybody?" said Pyrron. "I'm somebody, yet I know nothing of the sort."

"By 'allbody' I didna mean philosophers, who, it is well known, believe aught save plain truths. They even think the world is round, when anybody with eyes can see 'tis flat."

"Well then, let's define all non-philosophers as 'everybody,' and see how far that gets us. Are you a witch?"

"Eh? A witch? What are you talking about, man? Of course I'm no witch!"

"Then would you say that most of your fellow Thessalians are witches?"

"What a daft notion!"

"Yet if you inquire of the majority of Hellenes which part of Hellas is populated almost entirely by witches, they'll name Thessalia."

"Is that true? All I can say is, the other Hellenes are sillier nor I thought."

Pyrron spread his hands. "So much for the confidence one can repose in what everybody knows."

"Belike I kens not my own powers," said Thyestes, casting a sinister smile towards Kanadas. "Had I thought I was sic a deadly night bird, I'd have raised some fearful cacodaemon to deal with those who fash me."

Phrada, on the Phrada River, is a dismal little town of low mud-brick houses with curiously domed roofs. When it came into sight, looking like some vast bakery or smeltery with many ovens, Vardanas said:

"Let me ride on, Leon, to warn the viceroy of your coming."

"Why?"

"To let him ride forth to meet you. It is the Arian way of honoring visitors."

"As Stasanor's a Hellene, he probably knows it not," I said, "and in any case he may not wish to honor us. But go ahead."

Vardanas raced off with the Dahas. In half an hour they were back with four more horsemen: a Hellene, and three Ariaspians. The latter are a half-nomadic folk of the region. Stasanor had several as auxiliaries in Phrada, besides a score of Greek mercenaries.

The Ariaspians wore the usual Arian trousers. One bore a lance, one a bow, and the third a device I had not seen before. The man wore a wide belt around his goatskin coat. This belt had a hook, and hanging from the hook was a long coil of rope made of braided leather.

People have asked me if the Ariaspians are the same as the Arimaspians, the Sakan tribe supposed to have a single eye in the middle of the forehead. All I can say is that Ariaspians, whose name means "noble horsemen," have two eyes like everybody else. As for the one-eyed Arimaspians, I have heard many traveler's tales, including no doubt many lies, but I have never found a man who claimed to have seen these one-eyed folk himself. So many tales of the wonders of the East have I found to be untrue that I doubt if the Arimaspians exist.

The Hellene said: "Rejoice, Troop Leader Leon. I'm Hippokoön, secretary to Stasanor."

"Rejoice!" I said, a little downcast that the viceroy had not bolstered my dignity before my men by coming to meet me himself. "Is the Stasanor in Phrada?"

"No. He's downstream at Alexandreia, seeing to the building." Alexander had founded another Alexandreia in Zarangiana, near Lake Areios, which was to become the provincial capital when the main buildings were finished.

"When look you for his return?"

"It is uncertain. Perhaps in a ten-day."

"Have you received a letter from Menon, foretelling my arrival and asking him arrange the hire of camels for me?"

"I recall no such letter, but I'll look."

As we neared Phrada, we passed a pair of fire-altars with a Magos pottering around them. Then I knew we were in Persia proper, or Ariana as Vardanas would say. When I had chosen a camp site, I went with Hippokoön to the viceroy's house. The streets of Phrada were ankle-deep in dust, so that even at a walk our horses' hooves raised a cloud.

"Be glad it's not winter," said Hippokoön. "Then it's knee-deep in mud, which is even beastlier."

In the viceroy's house, the secretary got out a chest full of letters and went through the recent ones. Some, I saw, were in a foreign writing of many little loops and hooks.

"Syrian," said Hippokoön. "Most of the business of Dareios' empire was conducted in it. Learning Persian is bad enough, but Syrian, my dear, is simply appalling!"

There was no letter from Menon. As Stasanor had departed from Phrada on the same day we left Kandacha, he could not have carried it off with him. Either the letter had been lost on the way; or, more likely, Menon had neglected to write it. Were I Zeus, I would appoint a special fiend to harass those who do not write the letters they have promised.

I talked this matter over with my officers after Hippokoön had supped with us that evening. The secretary said:

"You'll find few camels here for hire, because this is the height of the caravan season and they're all in use. However, if you go a thousand furlongs northwest into Areia, you will come to one of the greatest camel-grazing grounds in Persia. There thousands are reared every year, and I'm sure you'll find some you can use."

"How far is that in leagues?" said Vardanas. After doing sums in the dust with our fingers we made it about thirty-five.

"Let me go," said Vardanas. "I can be there in three days and back in seven."

I was tempted to go on this jaunt myself. It would be a relief to shed my responsibilities and gallop off over the horizon without always craning my neck to be sure I did not get out of sight of my hipparchia.

But second thoughts prevailed. Nobody could beat a Persian at covering huge distances quickly without getting lost. With my weight I should only slow him down. Besides, there were many repairs to be made and precautions to be taken for crossing the Desert of Despair. I did not think any but myself could be trusted to oversee all the petty details.

Vardanas therefore went off with two of our Dahas and two of Stasanor's Ariaspians, while the rest of us sweltered in Phrada, breathing and eating dust. Every cart wheel was taken off, inspected, and greased. Every sword was honed to the sharpness of a razor, and every spear to that of a needle. Harness was repaired and replaced. The women sewed us extra waterskins and water buckets of leather. I bought an ox to drive along with us for a few days and then slaughter for meat.

Vardanas did not return at the end of seven days. This surprised me not, as I was a seasoned enough traveler to know that every journey takes longer than planned.

When the ninth day did not bring him, howsomever, I began to worry. Although Vardanas could usually take care of himself, no man can avoid his fate if the gods have really ordained it. Furthermore, we were falling behind our itinerary, which had been so drawn up as to enable us to voyage from Phoenicia to Hellas before the winter storms. With much more delay, we should be hitched fast in Asia through the winter.

The heat, dust, and flies annoyed the men. Having rested and done everything to ready our gear for the next leg of the journey, they became bored and got into mischief.

Two Thessalians fought over the woman of one of them. One received a knife cut and both got a flogging. A groom who had been ailing for some time died. A child was stung by a scorpion and almost died. My two remaining Dahas got together with another Saka, a Sakarauka living in Phrada, for a hemp party. Sakas drug themselves by breathing the smoke of burning hemp under a blanket, and my pair were useless for days afterwards.

To keep the demons of boredom from stirring up more trouble, I organized athletic contests: running, javelin throwing, and the like. I won the wrestling tournament myself; if the gods denied me beauty, they at least bestowed upon me a set of tolerably stout wrestling thews. The one man who might have dompted me, Kanadas of Paurava, refused to compete. When Thyestes taunted him with cowardice, he said:

"It is not that at all. I am good wrestler. It is that such close contact with men not of my own caste would defile me."

Thyestes chose this time to play a joke on his foe Kanadas. Recalling Kanadas' fear of spirits, Thyestes one night powdered himself all over with flour and put mud in his hair so it could be twisted up to make horns. Then, creeping to Kanadas' tent, he peered in and cried in a hollow voice, in his atrocious Persian:

"Me ghost of King Dareios! Because you insults gods of Persia, they sends me to destroy you!"

He screamed a wild laugh and thrust out his whitened arms. Kanadas gave a yell that must have awakened half of Phrada. He leapt up and tried to plunge through the wall of the tent he shared with Siladites. Instead, his head burst through a rotten spot of the tent wall, and he dashed off with the tent flapping about him like a cloak.

First Kanadas ran into the river, fell down, and came out covered with mud. Then he ran to the east gate of Phrada. The gate was closed, of course. But Kanadas was a mighty man, and terror lent him wings. He gave a great leap, caught the top of the gate, and swung himself over, screaming "Ghost! Ghost!"

The sentry on the wall saw a naked, mud-covered giant, with something flapping behind him like bats' wings, rush up to the east gate. There the specter seemingly spread his wings and flew to the top of the wall. The sentry uttered an even louder scream, leapt down inside, and ran to the market place shouting "Ghost!" too.

The caravaneers in the market place, awakened by the sentry, sprang up as Kanadas appeared. The moon, though past full, shed all too clear a light on the apparition. In a trice, all these men were fleeing out the west gate. Kanadas, wishing human help against his spectral pursuer, ran after them; but the faster he pursued, the faster they fled.

I got up to find Thyestes, still ghastly in his floured disguise, rolling on the ground with mirth. He told me the tale between spasms of laughter.

"Zeus rot your teeth, you fool!" I cried, and sent men to hunt for Kanadas. They found him standing bewildered in the desert, the muddy remains of the tent still draped about him.

When Kanadas found out what had happened, he said: "Lord Leon, I must kill this baseborn villain. He has always hated me and jeered at me, and my honor demands battle to death."

"I forbid it," I said. "I love you both and will not have either slain, at least until our task be accomplished."

"I do not care. Send me back to India or kill me, but I will fight him as soon as I get my sword. This journey is horrible enough without his persecuting me and making my life miserable."

"But look how much bigger you are! It would not be honorable."

"I dinna fear the great scut," said Thyestes. "I'm going for my weapons, too."

"Come back, both!" I shouted. "Skounchas! Spargapithas! Cover them with your bows!" When the Dahas had nocked their arrows, I went on: "Any fighting shall be according to my rules. Pyrron, blindfold them."

I cut two stems from the nearest tamarisk and trimmed them to sticks, each three feet long and as thick as a thumb. Pyrron put a Persian head bag backwards on each of the duelists.

"This will prevent them from seeing down past their noses," he said.

We led the warriors to a clear space, gave each a stick, and spun them round several times.

"Go to it!" I said. "Fight until one yields or until I tell you to stop."

The sight of two men, naked but for bags over their heads, stalking each other blindly in the moonlight, was one of the weirdest I have seen in a long and eventful life. Alas for heroism! We had turned them loose facing opposite ways, so no matter how they slunk, leapt, and slashed the air, they never came within ten paces of each other.

The noise of the onlookers kept them from finding each other by sound.

Betimes a spectator shouted: "Beware! He's right ahint you!" Then both would whirl, making the empty air hum beneath their strokes. When Kanadas walked into a tamarisk, the touch of a feathery branch caused him to hew madly at the tree until he realized he was striking no human foe.

Our party was helpless with mirth when Thyestes called in a muffled voice: "Kanadas!"

"Yes?"

"Are you weary of having these shameless ones make fools of us?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Aye. I'm also fair frozen."

"I, too." The Indian's teeth chattered.

"I says, fornicate this foolishness."

"Good! I say so, too."

They cast aside their sticks and pulled off their blindfolds. Thyestes said: "Kanadas, you're the only body in this dung heap who understands honor. Don your garments and come to my tent for a drop of hot wine to warm us, and a plague on all these—"

He called us names that were new even to a man of my warlike past. Thenceforth, he and Kanadas were the best of friends, as far as Kanadas ever became friendly with anybody.

Next morning, a plume of dust appeared in the distance. Two hours later Vardanas rode in with one of the Ariaspians, who hallooed to his friends and whirled a loop of his rope about his head.

"The rest follow," said Vardanas. "I have galloped all over Arcia to find seven mangy camels."

"Where are the thousands Hippokoön promised us?"

"Driven off. After a band of Derbikan raiders seized some, the herders drove the rest out of harm's way. Luckily, I found an old camel herder who had not heard of the raid. He sent these under his son Dadarshes. But he sent them only on condition that we guard them until we sighted Phrada."

"You've earned a deep draft at any rate," I said. Anon, when he had told me the whole story over a cup of wine, I asked: "What does that Ariaspian with the rope he flourishes so grandly?"

"Know you not? We call that a kamynda. Let me show you. Where is that polluted ox?"

Vardanas got up unsteadily, for he had drunk deep. He borrowed the rope, mounted, and called to me to turn the bullock loose.

I unhitched the beast from its stake and struck it with a strap. It ran out into the desert. Vardanas cantered up beside it, whirling the loop of rope. He tossed the rope so the loop spread out and settled over the ox's head. The noose tightened as Vardanas pulled it. Soon he brought the animal to a halt, though it plunged and shook its head in trying to free itself until the rest of us ran up and caught it.

I had drunk deeply too, for I said: "Persians are not the only ones who know how to catch cattle. Wait till I fetch Golden, and I'll show you how we do it in Thessalia."

Again the ox was loosed. This time it ran for the river. I galloped up, caught its horns, and slid off my horse, using my weight to twist the animal's head and finally throw it. The act would have been more impressive if the ox had not carried me to the edge of the Phrada, so that we both arose covered with mud. Still and all, my Asiatic comrades marveled at the feat and looked upon me with new respect.

" 'Tis nought," I said. "Every true Thessalian knight learns to do it afore he can walk."

The camels plodded in during the afternoon. Though I was no judge of camel-flesh, even I could see that they were poor creatures of their kind. One wobbled as it walked as though it would collapse if even a twig were placed upon its back. I asked Vardanas:

"How much did you promise for these things?"

"A drachma a day."

"Oh, you ninny! Even I know the going rate for camel hire is not above four oboloi a day in these parts."

"We had to have them; there were no others; you would not have liked me to spend a fortnight chaffering the old fellow down," said Vardanas in a hurt tone. "Besides, a gentleman does not like to bargain."

"One Persian gentleman has no sense about money, you mean. Next time I'll send Elisas to handle the commercial end of things."

I should have thought that, after riding thousands of furlongs, the Dahas and Ariaspians would have been glad to rest. But no, they must needs have a game of stick-and-ball ere we parted. We marked off a playing field in the desert and set a pair of large stones at either end for a goal. The game is played on horseback with a wooden ball and a stick that is flattened and curved at the end like a long-handled spoon. Each team tries to knock the ball through its own goal.

They played four on a side, Vardanas and three Dahas against four Ariaspians. Spargapithas was knocked senseless and had to be replaced. Two players became angry and belabored each other with their sticks until we parted them. Otherwise, it was a splendid game. The Phradan garrison, being in better practice, beat us 21-15.

From Phrada we took horse over a flat, boundless, yellow plain, bare but for a few tamarisks. The last foothills of the Indian Caucasus sank below the horizon behind us. The camels slowed us, because they went no faster than a man can walk.

The first morning after leaving Phrada, we were striking tents when a man said: "Somebody follows us, Troop Leader."

On the plain behind us, black against the rising sun, appeared two small figures. We delayed our departure until they came up, two weary Greek hoplites.

"I'm Oinopion of Orchomenos, Hipparch," said the elder in the old-fashioned Arkadian dialect. "This is my friend, Kteatos of Gortys. We're fain to join you."

"Oh?" said I. "What says your commandant of this?"

"He knoweth not," said Oinopion with a broken-toothed grin. "We dropped over the wall and marched all night to overtake you."

"What's your reason?"

The younger, Kteatos, spoke: "We can no longer endure this polluted desert, Hipparch! We yearn to see a tree or a brook; not this endless waste of sand and rock."

Perhaps I ought to have chased them back. But we had lost four men, wherefore I was not unwilling to strengthen my force at the expense of the Phradan garrison.

"Is the commandant likely to ride out after you?"

"Not he! He'll not even report our disappearance. He'll carry us on the rolls, instead, and pocket our pay himself. Perchance the Stasanor will not find out for years."

"Very well, provided you know what you're getting into. When there's work to be done, we all pitch in and do it. There's no swaggering about saying that this or that task is fit only for servants. Do you understand?"

"Aye," said Oinopion.

"Can you ride?"

The Arkadians traded glances. "We've not ridden of late," said Oinopion. "We thought thou wouldst suffer us to ride the wains."

"Nay! We're cavalrymen, and if you know not that trade, you'd best begin learning. First, take off those bronze cuirasses and greaves; the weight would kill your horses."

I mounted them on two of our gentler spare horses. They clung fearfully to the animals' manes, looking at the ground. "Marry! 'Tis a far fall, forsooth," said Oinopion.

The second day brought us to the Areios River, which flows into Lake Areios when it flows at all. Now it was but a shallow, sandy trough in the desert. At the crossing were a sarai, a postal station, and a well, but no town. Here we slaughtered the ox and cut its meat into strips to dry.

Then, following the caravan tracks and the advice of the postmen, we bore more to the south. We found ourselves crossing a belt of dunes of curious rosy sand, which gave forth a musical sound when trodden on.

"The singing sands," said Vardanas.

After we had struggled through the sand, a belt of low hills rose in front of us. We threaded our way through these and arrived at Nia with water to spare. By careful harnessing up, we had beaten the Desert of Despair.

Nia stands on a rocky hill in a flat plain. This hill is shaped like a wedge lying on its side, a gentle slope surrounded by steep cliffs on three sides. Hundreds of stone huts stand on the slope, and about the hill lie tilled fields watered by karises from the more distant hills. Several caravan routes meet at Nia.

From Nia we bore southwest. Two days brought us to an oasis where thousands of date palms stood. The sight inspired Vardanas to entertain us with a Persian song that lists three hundred and sixty uses of the palm tree. The tribe that owns the oasis lives by selling the dates. Like most of the folk of this region, they ride asses, even to war. Horses are scarce for lack of decent grazing. We loaded up with dates and filled our waterskins. Kanadas worried about the elephant.

"Not much good hay and straw left, Leon," he said. "He like not palm branches. He is not well. This no country for Indian elephants, or Indian men either."

Aias had in fact a drooping and shrunken look. He needed wooded country where he could stroll along tearing boughs from trees and eating the leaves by the talent. We did the best we could for him by chopping up palm fronds.

We set out across the Waterless Plain. The heat, which had abated as autumn wore on, rose as we proceeded farther south. Day after day we plodded through a wearisome sameness of landscape: flat expanses of rock and sand and gravel, now and then broken by a bit of a mound or an outcrop. Mirages shimmered on the horizon. By day there was little sign of life save occasional troops of gaur and gazelles. By night, wolves howled and hyenas laughed.

One day, the whole horizon in front of us became yellow. A huge yellow cloud rolled towards us.

"Sandstorm!" said Vardanas. "Cover your faces!"

"Close up!" I commanded. "Keep together!"

The storm crept slowly upon us, the air about us remaining calm. It took the storm a quarter hour to reach us. Then sky and landscape were blotted out by yellow-brown murk. The wind whipped our head-cloths. It was like swimming under water in a muddy river.

I tried to lead my detachment but soon found I was not sure of the way. We huddled and waited.

After an hour the wind fell. Patches of sky and land appeared. We shook the dust out of our garments. I was about to order us to march when the wind started again. Down came the brown pall.

Pyrron sat on his horse beside me, muffled up to the eyes like the rest. I shouted through my wrappings: "O philosopher, how explain you the fact that, though the Arachotian wind blows harder than this, it raises at no rate so much dust?"

"The Arachotian winds have already blown away all the dust in Arachotia," he shouted back.

At sunset the sandstorm stopped for good. To my amazement, we seemed to be in an entirely different place. The post road had vanished, and none of the features was familiar. I consulted with my officers. Vardanas said:

"Let us stop for the night, Leon. In the morn the Dahas and I will make a sweep to see if we can pick up our road."

This seemed like a good plan. Next morning they went off. To keep them from getting lost, I rigged a tent pole atop Aias' back and tied a piece of cloth to it. This could be seen for many furlongs. I climbed up on the elephant myself to follow their movements.

The scouts came back at noon. "We have found no sign of the road," said Vardanas. "That cursed storm must have wiped out all tracks."

"Saw you no sign of other travelers?"

"None. We might have been whisked by magic to another province."

"We're traveling southwest, so if we go on in that direction we cannot go too far astray."

Thyestes said: "We maun wait until later, to tell which way the sun is setting."

This we did. However, we no sooner thought we had found our true course and marched a few furlongs than another sandstorm came down upon us. We halted again.

At eventide the dust blew away. We made a few furlongs during the night, guiding ourselves by the stars. The next day, sandstorms again held us up for hours. So it went for days.

Although we had plenty of food, fodder and water were getting scant. I lowered the daily dole of water, and we carried pebbles in our mouths to keep the spittle flowing. Every shrub along the way was torn up and fed to our beasts.

One morning Protos, a Thessalian, said: "Troop Leader, yesternight my father appeared to me in a dream. 'Turn back, lad,' he cried, 'afore the jackals pick the flesh from your bones!'"

"Fine advice!" I scoffed. "Now that we're over halfway to our goal, your goodsire's ghost would have us turn about and lose oursels allenarly."

" 'Tis no the distance only, Troop Leader," said another. "Yesterday I saw three hawks flying from the left. You ken what that means."

"We maun pray more to the gods," said another.

"Go ahead," I said. "I've been praying for days the now."

"Prayer's no good enough," said Antimachos, another Thessalian. "Sacrifice is needed."

"What shall we sacrifice?" said Protos. "Outen the beasts we carina move."

"Say rather, whom?" said Antimachos.

This proposal aroused a storm of dispute: "Dinna look at me, body, or I'll knock the head from your shoulders!" "Some of these bairns would no be missed ..." " 'Tis fine for you who have none to say so, but any man who'd lay hand on mine maun deal with me first!" "We should draw lots!" "Why no the camel master? He's nought but a foreigner..."

"Hold your tongues!" I shouted. "The next man who proposes human sacrifice shall be the first victim. Do I hear any volunteers? No? I'm ashamed of you, acting like witless savages. 'Tis an old and true saying that the gods help them that help themselves. So let's push on, and let there be no more nonsense."

That night Oinopion, one of our new Arkadians, was caught trying to steal water. I flogged him and warned him that the next attempt would be punished by death.

But some never learn. The next night, Oinopion's comrade, Kteatos, was caught in the same way. As the men dragged him before me and accused him, I questioned him in the light of an oil lamp. He spat at me and snarled:

"Wouldst not do the like for thy lover?"

"Cut off his head," I commanded Kanadas. The Arkadian, however, would not kneel to give his executioner a clear swing. He struggled and cursed until Kanadas, losing patience, brought the huge sword straight down, splitting his head to the teeth.

Somebody shouted: "Leon! Look out!"

I dropped to the ground as a javelin whizzed over me. Oinopion, who had thrown it, ran off. In the darkness he tripped and fell before he had gone fifty paces. By the time he got up, the Thessalians were all around him, spearing him. He was dead when I reached the scene.

Next day we buried the dead and set out again. We met more sandstorms. The elephant grumbled; the camels moaned; the horses and mules hung their heads. When we could move, we walked to spare the animals.

The wobbly camel abruptly lay down and died. Wc shifted its load to others and butchered it while the camel master Dadarshes, a stupid and timorous youth, wept and wailed. We gave the camel's blood to the children to drink. We took over two hundred pounds of its meat with us, though it was too tough to eat raw and we could not cook it for want of fuel. We ran out of bread and could not make more for the same reason. Even as we left the spot, a swarm of jackals and hyenas appeared to quarrel over the carcass. Vultures dropped out of the sky.

The next day the country changed. It was still flat, but with patches of white caking. The soil became damp, though still no plants grew. Joyfully we dug a hole, into which water seeped. When we had a spoonful I tasted it. It was salt.

The white patches, too, were salt. They waxed larger, and the footing became treacherous. It was slippery mud under a thin crust of salt. A camel slipped and fell, thrashed about, and died. Dadarshes, weeping, explained that it had broken its back. This time we cut only a few steaks from it, because we were overloaded with food, whilst shy of fodder and water. Vardanas said:

"We must bear west, Leon. I have heard of this salt marsh. In spring it becomes a great shallow lake; it stretches many leagues to the south."

We bore right and at last passed out of the salt beds. A horse fell and could not be gotten up again. The elephant was a gaunt, shuffling wreck. Siladites had to goad him ever and anon to keep him moving.

There were more reports of portentous dreams and sinister omens. The cook told how, as he had walked away from the camp in hope of finding a place where water could be dug for, a viper crossed his path, reared its head, and said: "Go no further, man! The gods of Persia have doomed you!"

To keep the men's spirits from falling so low as to render them useless, I was driven to concocting false but favorable omens of my own. When I told how a white gazelle had walked three times around the camp at night and then galloped off westward, they became noticeably cheered. This experience made me even more doubtful than before of omens.

In midafternoon we were packing our gear for our evening's march when one of the Dahas began talking excitedly to Vardanas and pointing.

"Horsemen," said Vardanas. "Probably Asagartians."

The Asagartian nomads live northwest of the Waterless Plain, in southern Parthia. As these riders were several days' march from their usual haunts, I guessed they were raiders.

I put our trumpet to my lips, but my mouth was so dry I could not blow a note. I therefore told the men in a croaking voice to make ready for battle.

The horsemen grew from specks to clearly visible figures. There were forty or fifty of them, riding towards us without haste.

When they were a few plethra from us, the riders halted. Three cantered forward, raising their hands. I said:

"They wish a parley. Vardanas, you and I and Skounchas shall meet them: you to interpret their dialect and Skounchas to keep his bow handy."

We rode out to meet them. They were a ragged, sun-blackened lot, in gaudily colored shirts and long stockings. Most of them bore no weapons other than a knife and a kamynda coiled at their waists. One, who seemed to be the leader, carried a spiked club like that of Vardanas.

The leader began a harangue, which Vardanas answered now and then with a few words. After this had gone on for a while I said: "El How about some translation, laddie?"

"Patience, Leon. He is telling me his pedigree to prove how honorable and important he is."

The Asagartian spoke again. There came a sound of hooves. I looked around to see one of the other nomads galloping up to Vardanas from behind, whirling his kamynda. The man had quietly walked his horse around behind us while the leader held our attention with his oration.

"Beware!" I shouted, but too late. The noose settled over Vardanas' body, pinning his arms. He was jerked off Rakous' back to roll in the sand. The nomad started to drag Vardanas away despite his roars and thrashings.

I spurred Golden after the nomad, passed Vardanas, and cut the rope with a slash of my sword. The Daha's bowstring twanged, and the Asagartian's horse tumbled head over heels, throwing his rider ahead of him.

"Eleleleu!" cried Thyestes behind us. The Thessalians charged. The Asagartians wheeled and raced off into the desert, scattering.

I circled round and drew up where the nomad had fallen. The man was getting to hands and knees. I dismounted, flung him on his back, and took his knife from him. Then I had to fend off the furious Vardanas, who tried to assail the man with his sword.

"Stop, fool!" I told him. "Would you slay our new guide?"

We bound the man's hands with his own rope. "What in the name of the Dog did they hope to accomplish by dragging you off?" I asked.

Vardanas replied: "They took me for the leader. I suppose they hoped to make you ransom me; you are too well armed for an open battle. Raiders look not for hard fights; they seek feeble victims and easy loot."

We mounted the Asagartian on a spare horse with his hands still bound, placed his own noose about his neck, and gave the end to a Daha to hold. Vardanas told him that if he guided us safely to the Karmana road he should live; but, if we perished in the desert, he should die with us.

The nomad surveyed the barren landscape, jerked his head southwesterly, and started off. We lost one more horse, but next day mountains began to rise over the horizon. The Asagartian indicated one tall peak. Vardanas said:

"He calls that Saka's-Hat Mountain. If we aim just to right of it, we shall find the post road."

After a moment, Thyestes said: " 'Tis still abune a day's journey to yonder peak, and our water is nigh hand gone. Now that we ken the way, what for no slaying the savage to save his water?"

Vardanas and Kanadas protested that such an act were cruel and perfidious after we had promised the nomad life.

"He's had life," said Thyestes with a grin. "A whole day more than he'd be having otherwise."

I said: "How would it be to turn him loose afoot? We should save his weight and water without breaking our pledge. Belike his own folk would find him."

"No," said Vardanas. "The raiders are tens of leagues hence by now. They would take it for granted that we should kill him. He would die of thirst. It were less cruel to slay him."

Kanadas added: "I give him my own water and go without, sooner than let you kill him save water. If you Hellenes are cruel and treacherous, Indians are not."

"There's greatness of soul!" said Pyrron. "Can we let foreigners outdo Hellenes in generosity?"

"I could," growled Thyestes. "You're a ruckle of softhearted fools, but have it your own way."

The next day, with swollen tongues and croaking voices, we reached the foothills and found a hamlet with a karis. Refreshed, we pressed on and picked up the Karmana road at the foot of Saka's-Hat Mountain. I said to Vardanas:

"We'll loose the Asagartian the now. He can find shelter in the villages. If they learn he's a raider and cut his throat, that's his lookout."

When this was explained, the nomad burst into voluble speech. Vardanas said: "He is fain to join us as a soldier."

"What think you? We could use some more good men."

"I should refuse. All he wants is a horse. The instant he gets aboard one without his bonds, he will be off for Asagartia like a shaft from the bow."

"Let him steal somebody's horse else, then."

We left the nomad sitting sadly on a stone by the roadside and went on, winding up into the Karmanian mountains. The villages were no longer the stout-walled, self-ruling towns of Gandaria and Arachotia, but little open serf-hamlets. The serfs belonged to Persian lords who lived in castles on the hilltops. The villagers did not suffer from lack of defenses, for they were so wretchedly poor that not even nomadic raiders bothered to rob them. Usually, at the sight of the elephant, they all ran away and had to be coaxed back.

We stopped at one of the larger villages to rest. Aias began to recover, with plenty of food, water, and shade. The local baron, Mardounias, rode down from his castle with a falcon on his wrist to see what we were up to. When I had explained for the hundredth time what I was doing with an elephant so far from its native haunts, he fed us dinner at his stronghold, and we dined him in return. Without letting our guest know, for fear of loss of dignity, I took over the cooking and so managed to turn out a decent repast.

Mardounias, howsomever, was a dull fellow who talked of nought but boar hunting. I like hunting as well as the next man, but to devote an entire evening to the death of one wretched pig is carrying one's enthusiasm too far.

Soon, trouble arose betwixt my men and the villagers over a wee bag of rings and other gewgaws which one of the Thessalians said a villager had stolen from him. I misdoubt my man had stolen these trinkets from civilians in the first place, but what soldier was ever swayed by such an argument? I had to break camp and move on to forestall a battle. Thus, in the last quarter of Pyanepsion, we came over the mountains to Karmana.

Like Nia, Karmana is a spot in the middle of a barren plain where several roads happen to cross. Nearby, a rocky ridge breaks the plain. A castle on the last peak of this ridge dominates the town. Afar off, rugged ranges rise from the edges of the plain on all sides. Vardanas told us a tale of how Karmana was once ruled by a dragon, until the hero Artaxashas slew it by pouring molten copper down its gullet. Meseems it were an effective method.

In Karmana we paid off Dadarshes. The camel master demanded outrageous compensation for the two dead camels and had to be dealt with firmly. We bathed and had our hair cut and our clothes washed. I bought a new sword, for Karmana has skilled smiths who work the iron and copper mined in the province of Karmania. The town hums with the sounds of handicraft.

The rest, who had amassed goodly sums of pay during the march through the desert, did with them according to their natures. Thyestes headed for the brothel. Pyrron dribbled his money away in gifts to beggars and small loans to the men, most of which he never even tried to recover. Kanadas clung to every copper of his pay with the clutch of a drowning man. Said he:

"Sinful to spend good silver on strange women. Better to rule one's lusts. But I wish I had one of my wives, for I have desires like other men."

Vardanas spent most of his money on two fine new suits of clothes. For a somewhat vain man, he had long gone in rags without complaint; but his new splendor, I thought, was hardly called for. When he paraded the new raiment in front of me, I said:

"Congratulations, buckie! Why did you no tell me?"

"Tell you what, Leon?"

"Why, surely Alexander has appointed you viceroy of this province, has he not?"

Vardanas never kept money. On the other hand, he never borrowed, having a horror of debt. When his purse was empty he cheerfully went without until the next payday.

What was left of his silver Vardanas spent on a feast for the whole hipparchia on his birthday anniversary, according to the Persian custom. It is also the custom for those who attend to bring gifts to the giver of the feast. Vardanas said nought of this, and we should not have known but for a chance remark by Pyrron. So we rushed about the market place of Karmana, buying belated gifts. Some, like a bird in a cage, given by the Dahas, were hardly suitable for a man on a journey like ours.

It was a fine feast, considering what an out-of-the-way place Karmana is. We had mutton and pork broiled on skewers, and heaps of dates and melons. Whatever their faults, the Persians know how to cook, being surpassed in this regard only by the Babylonians.

Vardanas hired the town band to play for us after they had finished their nightly salute to the setting sun. They came in with ten drums of all sizes and a score of trumpets, some so long that the trumpeter had to rest the big end of his horn on another man's shoulder. At the bandmaster's signal, they banged and blew with all their might. As far as I could tell, each man played his own tune without heed to the others, making a dreadful din. Vardanas, however, assured me that this was a stirring battle hymn by one of Persia's most celebrated composers.

The Thessalians danced a country dance, the akrolax. I stamped and kicked with the rest, though my figure is hardly that of a born dancer. Later Vardanas got tipsy and began to declaim Persian poetry. He would have gone on all night had we not turned him upside down and plunged his head in a bowl of water.

We had trouble in Karmana with an accusation of rape brought by a woman of the town against Polygonos of Iolkos. The story of this case would make a book by itself, but I do not wish to fill my history with such petty and sordid details. My decision was that the woman had yielded willingly to Polygonos' lusts, but that he had then sought to cheat her of her fee. I made him pay her the going rate and fined him an equal amount.

We set out from Karmana with a wan-looking Thyestes, who was subjected to merciless chaffing about riding a horse for a change. We marched by winding roads, amid towering mountains and barren plains, westward towards Persepolis. The worst of the heat was now over. In fact, we became uncomfortably cold at night, especially the Indians, who began to shiver at any heat less than that of a furnace. The stony roads retarded us, as they had in Gandaria, so that we fell further and further behind our schedule.

There were few happenings worth telling. The Dahas slew a bear with arrows. I had never eaten bear and was surprised to find it the tastiest meat I had ever devoured.

For several days our progress was slowed by a curious dry fog, which blotted out the landscape as utterly as did the sandstorms of the Waterless Plain. For several more days we were stalked by a band of hillmen, who trotted along the ridges and peered at us from behind rocks out of arrow range.

"They would like to rob us but fear our weapons and the elephant," said Vardanas. "Keep strong watches. Wander not off at night. If you do, you will be found without your heads in the morning. Some of these tribes do not let a man marry until he has brought in a stranger's head."

The farther west we got, the more plant life we saw. Whilst the land was still a desert by Greek standards, at least we could collect enough greenery to appease the monstrous appetite of Aias, who began to fill out a little. We saw real trees, mostly walnuts and willows. Flocks of wild sheep and goats bounded over the hills.

One morning, as we were arising, a great whinnying and braying and trumpeting arose from our beasts. Not fifty paces off, a lion was creeping towards us. We shouted and clashed our weapons, which checked the lion's advance. Then Kanadas guided the elephant towards the lion, who slunk off with a few roars to show us he really feared us not.

We crossed the border from Karmania into Persis in the first ten-day of Maimakterion. We were now, Vardanas explained, in the real Persia. A few days later we reached Persepolis. As the Persians call both town and province "Parsa," I shall use the Greek names to keep them distinct.

Persepolis, standing in a corner of a plain beneath a small but rugged mountain, can be seen from afar in the clear air, so that it looks like a toy town. Only when one comes close does one realize the size of the palaces that generations of Persian kings raised here, magnificent even in ruins.

We came first to the city of Persepolis, a typical Persian mud-brick town, of modest size for the capital of a great empire. In fact, the Persian kings deemed Persepolis a resort and a ceremonial capital only. They came here for the great yearly festivals and rituals, especially those of Naurous, the Persian New Year, which takes place at the vernal equinox. The real business of ruling the empire was mostly done from Sousa and Babylon.

Then we passed through the groves and gardens about the palaces. The palaces stand on a great stone platform. The four main buildings on the platform—the palace and audience hall of the first Dareios, and the palace and audience hall of the first Xerxes—were burnt by Alexander. Their roofs had fallen in, their statues had been smashed, and their ornaments had been looted. But still the vast human-headed bulls of stone guarded the broken portals, and behind them lofty columns topped by animal heads rose like a forest over crumbling walls of bright-colored brick.

Several smaller buildings still stood intact upon the platform. Before the largest of these, the palace of Artaxerxes Vaukas or Ochos of bloody memory, stood a brace of armored Persian guards. Thither I bent my steps, rightly thinking it the viceroy's quarters and meaning to draw on the local supplies of fodder.

The guards stared sourly as I approached. One said: "Who are you and what do you want?"

I gave my name and added: "Is the viceroy in?"

"What business is that of yours?"

I stepped forward and roared in their faces: "Because I am an officer of the king on official business! If the viceroy be in, take me to him. If not, tell me where he is, or you shall rue your insolence!"

That took some of the haughtiness out of them. One guard jerked his head towards the door. Tire other went inside. Soon he came out again. Both bowed low as a stout Persian, beard curled in ringlets and perfume pervading the air, appeared in the doorway.

"Well?" he said, looking down his nose. "I am Phrashavartes by name. What is it?"

I started explaining my mission, but the viceroy cut me off. "My good man," quoth he from his high horse, "I do not concern myself with such matters. See my secretary Gimillos in the morning."

I began to protest, but Phrashavartes vanished into the palace. The guards, grinning, gripped their spears in case I should try to force an entrance.

Raging, I went back to our camp, beside one of the groves near the palaces. Vardanas said: "You should have taken me, Leon; I know how to treat these wantons. Then, too, you look like a vagabond. Appearance matters; you must dress your best."

"In what? I have but two dirty old shirts."

"Then borrow one, or wear one of my suits. Polish your helm and other gear. My slave will help you."

Though it irked me to spend time on such foppery, I let myself be guided by my friend's advice. After dinner an argument arose amongst the officers over the size of the platform on which the palaces stood.

"There's but one way to settle it," I said. "Come, lads, let's pace it off. 'Twill clear the wine fumes from our heads."

We did and found the platform about six hundred paces long and three hundred fifty paces broad. The naked columns were an eerie sight in the moonlight.

I said: "When the king commanded the palaces burnt I whooped and danced about the blaze like all the rest. But I regret it the now. They were a gorgeous sight."

"No doubt," said Pyrron, "though a trifle too massive and gaudy for Hellenic taste. The Persians have no indigenous building style; hence these things are a disorderly hodgepodge of Hellenic, Egyptian, and Babylonian elements. But, as you say, it was folly to destroy them."

Vardanas had not gone around the perimeter with us. Instead, he sat on the wide processional stairway, weeping. "What ails you?" I said.

"Alas!" he said. "I weep for great Xaiarshas' golden hall. I weep for all the other beautiful buildings which your people burnt. I weep for the sacred writings of Zarathoushtras, written in golden ink on twelve thousand sheets of cowhide. When will such glories come again?"

"I'm sorry," I said, "but that was lawful revenge for Xerxes' burning of Athens."

"Oh? But that too was revenge, for the Athenians' part in the burning of Sardeis."

"I never heard of that."

"It's true," said Pyrron. "Could we trace back all our feuds, we should probably find they originated in a controversy amongst the first men Prometheus made. Assuming, that is, that Prometheus did in fact create the first men."

"What's your idea of the origin of man, O skeptic?" I asked.

"Since nothing has been proven, I haven't yet formulated a definite belief on that score. However, I'm intrigued by Anaximandros' hypothesis that men are descended from fishes. The unintelligent manner in which they often behave" (he waved a hand towards the ruins) "lends support to the theory."

"Our myths have a first man, too," said Vardanas. "Gaiamarthen, begetter of the Arian people. But I do not fret over which myth, if any, be the true account."

Thyestes said: "If your Gai-something begat the Arians, whence came the rest of us?"

"That is simple. Some Arians had intercourse with demons."

"Papai! Mean you that I'm half demon?"

"Of course. I am sure, however, that your demonic forebear was of the highest quality. He must have been a king of the fairies at least."

"Phy!" said Thyestes. "Fairies, forsooth!"

We made our second assault on Artaxerxes' palace in royal Eastern style, riding upon the elephant. A canvass of the detachment had procured me a decent shirt and kilt, and I wore the bronze cuirass of one of the dead Arkadians. Vardanas, however, far outshone me. Aias knelt in front of the portal to let us clamber down. This time there was no insolence as Vardanas, with haughtiness that matched that of the viceroy, strolled up to the guards and said: "Fetch Gimillos, fellow."

Gimillos was a tall, thin Babylonian in a long brown robe. He rubbed his hands together and said: "Welcome, gentlemen, seven times welcome. And what can I do for you? How can I serve you?"

"You can do something better than let the Eyes and Ears of the King stand out here bandying words with these louts," said Vardanas.

"I am sorry; I am sorry. Do step inside." Gimillos led us through a maze of rooms to a chamber piled with records. "Sit down, my good sirs, sit down." When I had told him my mission, he said: "I suppose then you have come and will pay your taxes?"

I thought he was joking, but he was not. "Pay what taxes?" I cried. "Is everybody mad?"

"No, sir, seven times no. To guard the welfare of the people of Persis and to build the public works they demand takes money. There is the head tax and the road tax and the traffic tax and the horse tax and the property tax and the precious-metal surtax and the—well, to find all the taxes that apply in your case, I shall have to go over the schedule. Shall I visit your camp this afternoon and appraise your worth?"

"Do not be ridiculous. My property, so-called, belongs to the King Alexander. For a governor to tax his king's property were absurd."

"I am sorry; I am sorry. Inflexible are the viceroy's orders. All must pay, the tall and the short, and the sober and the drunken."

"There will be changes when the king returns," I said.

The Babylonian raised his hands. "Ah, my dear sir, who knows what the gods have in store? And how do we know the king yet lives? All sorts of tales-—"

"He lives, fear not."

"But he is not in Persis, and we are. No, no, sir, it is better to resign oneself to the inevitable. And who can evade the stars? They predict that Alexander will perish in the demon-haunted Eastern jungles, and we must needs make ready against that day. Perhaps you had better stay here in Persis; we shall have use for stalwart arms and deadly spears."

Vardanas yawned. "We waste time. We have not forced our way over a thousand leagues of mountain and desert, past ravenous beasts and hostile tribes, to be robbed by some petty clerk. Others have sought to stop us; the jackals have picked their bones." He suddenly seized Gimillos' long black beard in one hand, whipped out his dagger with the other, and touched the point to the Babylonian's throat. "I had no qualms about killing you now, did I suspect you of meaning us ill."

Gimillos leaned as far back as he could, his eyes popping. He tried uneasily to smile.

"Pray, gently, dear sir, gently! If this be a jest, it is not in good taste, and if this be a joke, ill-taken it is."

"No jest," said Vardanas. "Tell your governor that if he wishes to gather taxes from us, he must fight for them. It were not the first time we cut our way through greater numbers."

"Alas! As you say, I am but a poor clerk; crushed between the upper and nether millstones am I. If you be not here to pay taxes, then why do you come?"

"To collect, not to pay," I said. "We wish fodder from the public store. Arrange it."

"You can pay the going rate, of course?" said Gimillos.

"Whether or not we can, we will not." I flapped Eumenes' authorization in Gimillos' face. "Read this."

Gimillos stared at the papyrus, moving his lips in a painful effort to puzzle out the Greek. He said: "Fiends take it! Although I cannot understand half of it, I will assume this document is as you state. But what then? I assure you that Phrashavartes will not honor it, for all your threats and bluster. And if you try to seize the stuff by force, seven times seven soldiers will spring to arms to thwart you. So let us be reasonable, dear sirs."

"What is your notion of reasonableness?" said Vardanas.

The Babylonian, who evidently liked to ride on two anchors, went on: "Let us look at it this way. As a man of peace, I abhor violence; and, moreover, urgent letters to finish have I. Verily, they will use up the rest of the morning. This afternoon to your camp I shall come and appraise your worth. You will still be there, will you not?" Gimillos winked broadly.

Vardanas hesitated to tell even so small a lie, so I spoke in his stead: "Surely, surely. Come, Vardanas. We must prepare a suitable welcome for our friend Gimillos."

Back at camp, I called the officers together and said: "Strike the camp quickly and quietly. We must be off within the hour."

Soon we were clattering along the Kyros River on the road to Sousa. When I told what had happened, Pyrron said:

"These viceroys are all so sure the Alexander will never return that each is preparing to make himself an independent king."

Vardanas said: "The jackal fell into a dye pot and thought himself a peacock."

I said: "The Babylonian said something about Alexander's death's being written in the stars. What make you of this star science of theirs?"

Pyrron smiled. "I, too, am a prophet, without any stars to guide me."

"How mean you?"

"Why, I prophesy that you will die, and you, and you, and so shall I. I prophesy that the sun will rise tomorrow and that there'll be rain and cold weather in Athens next winter."

"But these predictions from the stars are more particular than that!"

"It's all the identical type of phenomenon. The astrologer scrutinizes the heavenly bodies and says: Ares conjoins Kronos, wherefore a king shall die. But how many kings are there? Scores that we know of, and perhaps hundreds in unexplored lands. Some are dying all the time, so how can the astrologer help being right?"

The fifth day after we left Persepolis, we caught up with a caravan going our way. When we came to a flat stretch where we could pass, we rode by, waving and trading jests with the caravaneers.

At the head of the line, a man guided a camel out before us and held up a hand. "Who commands this host?" he called.

"I do," I said, and gave my name.

"It is good," he said. "I am Thouchras by name, leader of this caravan. There is danger ahead."

"What danger?" I asked.

"We enter the mountains that border the land of the Houzans, where wild hill tribes live. The tale is that they have thrown off your Greek king's rule and begun waylaying and plundering again."

"Indeed?"

"I have been at my wits' end to get my folk through safely. If you will join me, we shall have a better chance than traveling separately."

"I fear you will delay us too much."

"It will only be for two or three days. Then we shall reach the plains of Houza."

"Very well," I said, and passed the word.

"Vaush, vaush," said the caravan leader, which means "good."

"True, I am as brave as a lion, and my people are mighty fighters. But there is nothing like a troop of trained soldiers in such a strait."

Our road joined the upper reaches of the Eulaios River, which wound snakelike through the rugged mountains that sunder Persis from Sousiana. We crept through narrow gorges and under frowning cliffs. Castles loomed over us. Little could be heard over the murmur and rush of the river. The sky darkened, and the first rain we had seen since India pelted down upon us.

Thouchras, the caravan leader, sought me out to boast of his bravery. On the second day after we joined the caravan, he said:

"You should have seen me in the land of the Iautians when my caravan was attacked, Hipparch. By Mithras, I built a rampart of the bodies of those I slew! There is nought I love better than a good, rousing fight. I shall almost be sorry if the hillmen assail us not." He brandished his sword towards the frowning, rocky hills, shouting: "Come, villains, try conclusions with Thouchras the Dauntless!"

As if in answer to Thouchras' boasts, a troop of horsemen trotted over the nearest ridge on our right. More and more came into view until at least a hundred were to be seen.

Shouts and screams came from the caravan. Seeing men pointing in the other direction, I looked and discerned a band of foot archers pouring over the crest on our left. Thyestes blew the alarm on our trumpet. My hipparchia, with the speed of long practice, drew itself into a compact formation with the wains on the inside and the elephant in the rear, ready to charge out.

"Stand by for orders, lads!" I cried. "Iai for Thessalia!"

I turned to Thouchras. "Draw your men up!" I said. "If you will take the first shock, we will launch a countercharge on their flank ..."

But Thouchras was in no mood to talk of battle plans. Pale under his native swarthiness, he turned his camel about and went bouncing back along the road, crying: "All is lost! Auramasdas save us! Every man for himself!"

Similar cries of despair arose from the other Persians. In a trice, the whole mass of camels, horses, mules, and carts had turned about and was fleeing without order back towards Persis. Vardanas screamed at them not to be fools, that they were going to their deaths. A few collected their wits and attached themselves to us, but the rest fled on.

We poised our javelins and nocked our shafts. The men looked to me for the next command.

The strange horsemen broke into a gallop down the slope. They aimed, not at us, but at the fleeing caravan. In fact, they swerved to keep out of range of our bows. On the other side, the footmen ran towards the same quarry.

The sun twinkled on weapons at the far end of the valley. We could not clearly see what happened because of the distance and the dust of the pursuit. Howsomever, thin despairing screams told us the hill-men had caught the fugitives ere they reached the end of the valley. I think a few men on good horses got away, but the rest were all taken.

It would have been folly for us to attack so large a force. Hence I ordered my people and the Persians who had joined us to take up our march again with all possible speed. Even so, the barbarians could have closed with us had they wished. Before we issued from the valley, they galloped past us along the hillcrest, waving plunder, herding captured beasts, driving the women, and carrying the heads of caravaneers on their lance points. None, however, came close to us. Though they outnumbered us ten to one in fighting strength, our resolute bearing and the fearsome sight of Aias kept them off.

Vardanas was much cast down by this tragedy. "I am ashamed of my countrymen," he muttered. "By the favor of Auramasdas, Leon, I will show you how a proper Persian acts. Verethragnas aid me!"

Rakous bounded uphill towards the disappearing raiders. Vardanas whirled the kamynda he had taken from the Asagartian. I divined that he meant to ride up to the foe, snare one of them with his rope, and drag him back to us. That would bring the whole pack down upon us in a trice. I spurred after him.

"Come back, fool!" I cried. "That's an order!"

He paid no heed but galloped ahead. A trick of the ground enabled me to cut in between him and the tribesmen. I caught Rakous' bridle and hauled the big horse around.

"Let me go, Leon!" cried Vardanas.

I led him back, protesting bitterly, to the troop. As he was not mad enough to set out after the hillmen afoot, that ended the matter, except that I had to bear the berating of my friend until his anger cooled.

"You practical Hellenes!" he fumed. "Cold and calculating, like a lot of grasping Phoenicians! No manly spirit, no honor! May you be kinless, for cheating me of my exploit!"

When he had finished, I said quietly: "Each to that at which he excels, as we say in Thessalia. If you're so eager to show your manly spirit, get behind our Persians and harry them. They lag."

He did so, albeit grudgingly. For days thereafter, Vardanas was sunk in such bottomless gloom that I feared he might even slay himself. When I asked him what ailed him, he said:

"I am baser than the veriest slave, Leon, for speaking to my best friend so churlishly."

"'Tis nought, buckie! I gave it no thought, so why should you? Cheer up!"

Still he continued to brood, nor could I say aught to lift his spirit, until one day he suddenly became his old gay self. As I came to know him, I found that these fits of gloom were a part of his nature that nought could relieve. Being a rather even-tempered man myself, I found such extremes of emotion hard to understand. As Sophokles said, man is the most wonderful of all natural wonders.