An Elephant for Aristotle

Book Seven SYRIA

We rode up the left bank of the Tigris, passing through a gap in a low range of hills that lies athwart the river's path. We forded the Lesser Zabatos and marched through sparsely settled country, a desert save close upon the river. We sighted bands of marauding Arabs. Warned of their thievish ways, we kept close watches and were not molested.

The land waxed hillier, the air became cooler, and mountains appeared in the distance. We were in Assyria, the Arthoura of the Persians. The folk in the villages were larger and stouter than the Babylonians, with powerful frames, big noses curved like plowshares, and thick black beards.

I questioned Vardanas on the religion of Zarathoushtras, without committing myself. After all, I thought, when all other obstacles to my union with Nirouphar be overcome, it were time enough to proclaim my conversion.

At first, what Vardanas told me pleased me. Magianism seemed to have a more sensible answer to the problem of evil than other religions. Most start with a crew of all-too-human gods, as full of lust and folly as any mortals. Then people like Platon assure us this cannot be true; the gods are all-wise, all-good abstractions. When one asks whence comes evil, they throw out a cloud of words, like the ink an octopus squirts when one corners it in a seaside pool. It is all very confusing.

The Magians, however, frankly suppose two rival gods, of good and of evil, equally matched, who strive for the mastery of the universe. Every man must choose which of the twain he will side with. But my zeal for Magianism waned when I learned of the rites I should have to undergo to join it, such as that of washing my face in cow's urine.

We crossed the Great Zabatos, another tributary of the Tigris, and passed the site of the battle of Gaugamela. The battle had taken place five and a half years before, on a broad plain reaching almost to the horizon, on which rose a rank of low hills. The scene awoke strong memories in those of us who had fought in this great conflict.

We camped in sight of the battlefield on a chilly night and spoke in hushed tones of our memories. Knowing that Vardanas had served in Masdais' heavy horse on the Persian side in that vast struggle, I asked:

"Why in Hera's name did Masdais lead his division back to our camp after he had broken through our center? Had he assailed our foot from behind, when the Sakas made their fierce attack on our right, we had been in an evil plight indeed."

"Dareios had commanded Masdais at all costs to rescue his mother and his children."

"For this he threw away the battle?" said Thyestes. "What a silly carle!"

"Do Hellenes then count it a vice to love one's family?" said Vardanas.

"Na, na; but, like the dog with the bone in the fable, Dareios lost his battle outen getting his family back, through trying to grasp over-many things at once. What sort of body was he?"

"Not without virtues. Kind and courteous to his subjects, as far as the rules of courtly manners let him be. He labored hard to make them prosper after the oppressions of Artaxashas Vaukas. But his efforts had not borne fruit when the Macedonians fell upon him. True, he was no warrior, but timid and hesitant. When he did the right thing at last, like training his soldiers in the Greek methods of fighting, it was always too late. And he did twice flee from a battle, leaving his men to die for him. That is why I came over to Alexander with Nabarzanes; honor commands not to follow such a craven forever and aye. In peaceful times, though, he had made a good enough king."

"'The first in banquets, but the last in battle,'" quoted Pyrron. "Still and all, he suffered from the king's disease."

"What is that?"

"Self-conceit, which, as the proverb says, leads to self-destruction."

"I do not think him self-conceited. In his last days, when Bessos was hustling him through Media and Baktria, he became pitifully humble."

"Better beans and bacon in security than cakes and ale in fear," quoth Pyrron. "Nonetheless, he killed that Hellene who tried to give him sound advice."

"That adventurer, Charidemos of Oleus? My cousin Bagabouxas saw the whole thing. Charidemos besought Dareios to give him command of the entire army. When Dareios refused, Charidemos burst into rage. Before the whole court he shouted that all Persians, the king included, were womanish weaklings. One Macedonian, he said, could dompt ten of them. No king could be expected to bear such insults. As for self-conceit, I have heard naught for a year but complaints from you Hellenes about the same vice in Alexander. At least poor Daraiavaus never claimed to be a god."

"Of course you've heard complaints against the king," said Pyrron. "That's why most of the Greek states abolished kings and instituted democracies."

"Democracy is a fine ideal," said Vardanas, "but anyone can see it is doomed."

"Why so?"

"Because, as your own philosophers have pointed out, no state can be democratically ruled if its citizens exceed a few thousand. Suppose Alexander made his empire a democracy? The citizens could never come together from so vast an area to vote. If they did, such a huge disorderly throng, speaking a score of tongues, could not transact any business."

"What's wrong with a small state?" demanded Pyrron.

"Nothing save its size. Soon or late, a larger state swallows it, as a large fish swallows a small. There is strength only in union, as your own Aisopos said. Union can only be brought about by conquest, as the quarreling states of Hellas have often proved."

"The small states of Hellas did passably well against the great Dareios and the great Xerxes."

Vardanas shrugged. "Those Persian defeats were such accidents as happen in the life of any great empire. Forget not that when you won Marathon and Salamis, the Persians had already conquered hundreds of nations, from Kyrene to India. Then for years the Greek democracies attacked us. But even when Greek methods of warfare drew ahead of ours, we could always break up the invasion by playing off one Greek state against another, or bribing a general to desert and lead his men home. When Persia fell at last, it was to a powerful kingdom like itself."

"You're well informed in such matters," said Pyrron. "I doubt if many young Persian gentlemen could match you."

Vardanas grinned. "I had a good Greek teacher, Dorymachos of Acharnai, who studied under the godlike Platon and taught me the rules of rhetoric and the tricks of debate. To return, why does Alexander appoint so many Persian governors? Because Hellenes are unused to doing things on an imperial scale. Either they are overwhelmed by the task, or they cannot resist stealing from the treasuries they are set to guard."

"From what we've seen, Hellenes are not the only pilferers in positions of responsibility," said Pyrron. "But touching on the destiny of democracy: If you be right, which I don't admit, something precious will have gone from the world. To try to expound the delight of living in a democracy to one who has never experienced it is like explaining color to a blind man."

"I know that not," said Vardanas. "From what I hear, the Greek democracies spend all their time cutting each other's throats, as if they were wild Gandarian tribesmen. Peaceful and orderly civilized life, however, needs the rule of an all-powerful king, above the passions of feud and the hatreds of faction."

Pyrron said: "I must pit you against some of the more extreme democratic orators in Athens. The bout were worth the ticket."

Vardanas was not finished. "Moreover, war can be ended only by making the whole world into a single peaceful empire. Such an empire can be ruled only as a kingdom, for the reasons we have seen."

"I wouldn't call the Persian Empire peaceful," said Pyrron. "The viceroys were always revolting, and whenever a king died, his sons waged a civil war for the throne, like that which ended at Kounaxa."

Thyestes growled: "By Zeus, who wants to stop war? In a warless world the manly virtues would wither. Besides, soldiers like me would be out of work!"

During the night, a yell from the sentry brought us out of our tents. "Ghosts!" he screamed. "The ghosts of them that fell in the battle!"

I looked in the direction the sentry's trembling finger pointed, and fear squeezed my heart and stopped my throat, too. The light of the setting moon shone on a mist that moved towards us from the river. It was not a solid mist, but broken into columns and streamers about the size of a man. This broken mist advanced upon us with an eldrich effect. Around me rose a murmur of prayers and exorcisms. Kanadas' teeth chattered with terror. My own hair stood up; had I been alone I might have run, but a hipparch must set an example.

"Stand fast, lads!" I croaked. "If Thessalians dinna flee from living coofs, why should we fear their wraiths?"

Then came Pyrron's clear lecture-platform voice: "An interesting natural phenomenon!" He stepped forward and passed his hand through the first ghost. Then he turned and cleared his throat. "None of my colleagues has yet precisely defined the relationships prevailing amongst air, mist, and water. Air and water are commonly deemed distinct elements, yet in the case of mist we have an apparent intermediate form. We know that mist and cloud are made of water, but where does the water in mist go when it disappears? Perhaps the answer is to be found in the atomism of the great Demokritos—"

He had begun to pace about as he spoke, and now he stubbed his toe and measured his gangling length upon the ground. He got up, uttering mild curses, which were lost in the laughter of the hipparchia.

The following night we camped beside a village in the midst of a wide stretch of ruins. This is all that remains of the city of Ninos, the capital of the Assyrian Empire until the Medes and Babylonians destroyed it about the time of Solon and Periandros. Many tall tales are told of King Ninos, who built the city, and his queen, Semiramis, who reigned after him. But, as Beliddinos warned me that most of these stories are false, I will not repeat them.

The villagers called the ruins "Nineva." But when, with Elisas' help, I sought to question them in Syrian concerning the history of the city, it turned out that they knew less about it than we did.

From Ninos the course of the river trended westward. For a time we had the use of the Persian royal highway, stretching along the left bank of the Tigris between Ninos and Amida. This great road, which runs over five hundred leagues from Ephesos to Sousa, formed the backbone of the old Persian postal system. The surface was still in good condition, albeit not kept in such fine repair as under the Persians. Because of the time of year, the traffic was light, though single riders and men afoot were not uncommon.

We planned not, howsomever, to follow this splendid road all the way westward because it leads through Armenia and Kappadokia, which were out of our way. Forbye, these provinces of the Persian Empire had declared their independence when Dareios fell. Alexander's generals were unable to subdue them, for both lands were under the rule of powerful native kings who had served the Persians as governors and were well tempered in the arts of war and statecraft.

Swiftly we marched northwest for five hundred furlongs, through groves of date palms and orchards of cherry trees, to Bezabde. This is a fortified town in a crook of the Tigris, just short of the Armenian border. Here the road forks. The royal highway continues northward into Armenia, while the caravan road to the Syrian coast crosses the Tigris and trends west.

In Bezabde were many Armenians—stocky, hook-nosed men like the Assyrians. They trim their thick black beards to a point and wear the Armenian national hat. This is a cap bound about with long ribbons, which sits low over the nape in back and is gathered into three knobs forming a kind of crest over the forehead. There were also Kordians, big fierce-looking hillmen who dwell in southern Armenia, and their handsome women clad in bright clothes and speaking with loud, commanding voices.

On our first day in Bezabde, I saw one of these Kordians walking about the streets with a pair of curious objects on his back. These were flat structures of wood and leather, like unto the lids of oval boxes or baskets. I stopped the man, a tall, stout, red-faced fellow smelling of garlic, with blue eyes and great brown mustaches that swept out like buffalo's horns. I asked him what the things on his back were, but he could not understand me. However, Vardanas could follow the man's speech half the time, as the Kordians speak an Arian tongue.

"He calls them snowshoes," Vardanas explained. "On them he walked down hither from his village in the hills." The Persian pointed towards the snow-covered Armenian mountains to the north. "It is even colder there than here."

I shivered, for winter was now at its depth. Many a time and oft we had our tents blown down and our garments soaked by heavy storms. Most of us, tired of freezing our arms and legs, had bought native coats and trousers. Thessalians, used to a rugged climate, do not have the prejudice of southern Hellenes against warm raiment that fits the body. Forbye, it was hard to buy olive oil to anoint our bodies with in this land.

Aias, unused to icy blasts and lacking fur to keep him cosy, caught cold and grumbled unhappily. That night, Kanadas, bundled up to the eyes, came to me and said:

"Troop Leader, he die if we do not keep him warmer. We must get great blanket to cover him, or else stop and stable him till spring."

I summoned Elisas to help with the reckoning. It soon transpired that the delay would be more costly than the covering, could we but obtain a large enough sheet of crude cloth at a just price. Elisas said:

"There is a fair grade of woolen tent cloth for sale here, not too dear."

"All right, buy enough for a blanket for Aias."

"Not so fast, Troop Leader! It may take all the tent cloth in town to clothe the elephant. If we try to buy it all at once, the price will fly up like sparks from a fire. Let each of us go in turn and buy a piece, not as if we really needed it."

"How much need we?"

Elisas spread his hands. "Have never measured an elephant for a suit of clothes."

"Then do so."

"Oh, noble Hipparch! I fear the monster and cannot approach him!"

So, in the gathering dusk, the early stars looked down upon Kanadas, Siladites, and me, pottering about Aias with a rope to measure his vast dimensions. I decided that stuff for four two-man tents would suffice.

The next day Elisas, Vardanas, Thyestes, and I each strolled into the market place, fingered the tent cloth, sneered at its quality, and bought a bolt after a long haggle. All, that is, but Vardanas. As he hated chaffering, he closed his deal before he should have and paid nearly twice as much as the rest of us.

Whilst the women sewed the bolts into a blanket, I visited the Greek garrison, which looked nervously northward towards the Armenian mountains. The commandant, Myson of Corinth, told me:

"With the world so unsettled, we never know what day will see us at war. I'm told the king of Armenia has sent a polite letter and a gift to the Alexander, but one never knows if Alexander will deem that submission enough."

"What sort of soldiers are the Armenians?" I asked.

"Fell fighters when well led. By the! They have some heavy cavalry I shouldn't care to stand in the path of. Come and see for yourself, Hipparch."

"Whither?"

"I'm about to ride up the road a few furlongs to meet the Armenian commandant. We shall be back in an hour or two."

So it befell that I rode Golden at a walk beside Myson, whilst eight hoplites from the garrison, their bronzen helms and cuirasses brightly polished, clanked along behind us.

As Myson said, the border lay hardly out of sight of Bezabde. A pair of stone markers, one on either side of the royal highway, showed where it was. Myson said: "Shoulder—arms!"

The shields that had been slung over backs were brought around; the pikes that had been trailing in the gravel came smartly up to the right shoulders. Ahead of us a little knot of figures sprang apart. Four Greek border guards and an equal number of Armenians had been playing at knucklebones. Now they stood solemnly at attention, leaving their dice and stakes where they lay.

Along the road from the other direction, winding down from the hills, came a group of Armenians, mounted on big horses of the Median kind and wearing coats of iron scale mail with heavy cloaks over them.

The fat Armenian officer clasped Myson's hand and called down blessings upon him in his own tongue. They dismounted. Myson presented the Armenian to me as Bagrates. The latter had brought along a secretary who spoke a little bad Greek; but, when we found that both Bagrates and I were fluent in Persian, I took the interpreter's place.

The commandants exchanged a medimnos of flowery compliments and drank a cup of wine to the eternal friendship of Alexander's empire and the kingdom of Armenia. Then they got down to business.

"My king, the high and mighty Arkloathos son of Arouandas," said Bagrates, "demands to know why you are diverting caravans to the southern road, instead of letting them follow the Persian royal highway through his dominions as heretofore."

When this had been translated, Myson said: "Tell him we're not diverting anybody. Because of the rumors of war and unrest, the merchants prefer to take the southern road rather than be caught in Armenia in time of trouble."

"Ah, but who spreads these rumors of war and unrest, and what are his motives?"

"Tell him I don't know any more than he does. Rumors, like weeds, grow without cultivation."

"Surely the able and intelligent Company Leader Myson does not expect me to believe that he knows not what goes on in his own district?"

The session became strained. Bagrates was no longer a jolly fat man, full of flowery compliments, but a man out to wring every advantage from an opponent. Myson became frosty too.

"Tell him," he said, "I don't know whence the rumors come. If that makes me stupid in his eyes, I must bear his disesteem as best I can." When I had translated, Myson continued:

"Now I have a complaint. Three nights ago, a party of raiders crossed the border from Armenia and attacked the farm of Louxos son of Hananas. Louxos lost three sheep and was wounded in the leg as he strove to drive off the marauders. From their garb and speech, he thinks they came from around Zachos. We demand that the sheep be returned and Louxos be compensated for his wound, which will cripple him for a month if not for life."

"How do you know these people came from Armenia? Did anybody see them crossing the border?"

"No, but they came thence and fled thither ..."

This wrangle went on for half an hour, until at last Bagrates told his secretary to note the matter and promised to look into it. Then he came back with a complaint about a party of hunters who, chasing a wild pig, crossed the border into Armenia and damaged the vineyard of one. Sardoures.

Myson retorted with a complaint about a lion that made its lair on the Armenian side but crossed into Alexandrine territory to carry off the livestock of Myson's people.

"Mighty though he be," said Bagrates, "we cannot ask my king to command the wild beasts to respect man-made boundaries!"

At last they agreed upon a joint Helleno-Armenian lion hunt. Each commandant would pick some deserving men from his garrison to take part.

Now Bagrates brought up another matter. Had the noble Myson done aught about forcing the wife of Tigranes son of Marouas, who had run off with a cobbler of Bezabde, to return to her husband? He, poor man, was going mad trying to till his farm and care for his seven children at the same time. Why had she not come back?

The conference took three hours. Then the two commandants, who had been barking complaints and accusations, smiled, drank another toast, clapped each other on the back, mounted, and rode off.

"He's not a bad fellow," said Myson, "but for all his fat, sleepy look, he's sharp as a razor. You dare not yield a finger lest he take instant advantage."

While these words about Bagrates seemed just, I could not help thinking that Myson had not done badly at taking instant advantage himself.

We were packing to leave Bezabde when a Kordian swaggered into our camp and demanded to see me. He was the one whom I had questioned about the snowshoes on our first day in the city. Vardanas explained:

"He says he is an expert muleteer, camp man, groom, and guide, and can fight like a demon in a pinch. Will we hire him?"

The man looked strong, and I thought our force could use another pair of hands after its losses. "How far is he willing to go with us?"

"The farther the better, he says."

"All the way to Athens?"

"To the edge of the world, if we will take him, so it be far from Kordavana."

"What's the matter? Has he done murder? We're not a traveling sanctuary for fugitives."

The Kordian, whose name was Inaudos, whispered to Vardanas. The latter said: "He fears his wife."

And so Inaudos was with us when we set out. He had just finished hitching up one of the mule teams when a bright-clad Kordian woman appeared at the camp. With a screech she rushed upon Inaudos, waving a cudgel.

The Kordian cast a terrified glance around. The nearest refuge was the back of Aias, who stood awaiting a prod from Siladites to set him in motion. For all his bulk, Inaudos climbed up the elephant's harness and blanket like a monkey and tumbled into the booth.

The woman danced with rage about the elephant but did not dare come close. Inaudos put his thumbs in his ears, twiddled his fingers, and stuck out his tongue in a Gorgonian grimace.

Then Thyestes blew the trumpet, and off we went. The woman trotted after us, screaming curses, until our fording of the Tigris left her behind.

As a result of heavy rains in the Kordian mountains, a sudden rise in the Tigris had washed out the bridge at Bezabde. It was a nasty fording, like that of the Haitoumans in Arachotia. Although the water at the ford was no more than thigh-deep, it was abominably cold and dismayingly swift. We dismounted and led our beasts, the men holding each other's hands to steady themselves.

We had nearly crossed when I heard a shriek. Elisas had slipped and was instantly swept into deeper water. Knowing him to be no more of a swimmer than Vardanas, I plunged in after him and soon caught up with his thrashing form.

However, when I started to haul him out, he caught me round the neck in a death grip. Every time I got my face out of water for a quick breath, he dragged me under again. I struck at him, trying to stun him, and tore at his hands to break his grip, but Pan gave the little man the strength of a bear.

It would have gone ill indeed with me had I not felt a grip on my belt and found myself pulled into shallow water. Inaudos the Kordian stood over us, talking a spate in his own tongue and, I suppose, chiding us for our folly. When Elisas recovered, he was so voluble in his thanks to Inaudos and to me that fain would I have stunned the fellow again to quiet him.

Now the road bore westward, betwixt the snowy Masios Mountains on our right and the sweeping plains of Mygdonia on our left. This fertile land had turned from brown to green with the winter's rains. Alas! The rains had also made the road into a river of mud in which we splashed, slithered, and stuck. Once, when the way went down a rather steep hill, Aias balked and would descend the slope only by sitting and sliding on his colossal backside.

Now it was the elephant's turn to earn his passage. When a cart stuck fast, at the Indians' commands he placed his head against the back of the stalled wain. At the cry of "Zouk!" he pushed until the vehicle came free.

We had thus impelled the carts through a slough one day and were riding along again covered with mud, when I found myself at the head of the column beside Nirouphar. For several days I had had but little speech with her. I had been busy with heaving our vehicles through Syrian quagmires, whilst she had been making much of her friend the elephant, who was slowly getting over his cold.

While no orator, I have seldom been at a loss for words to suit the occasion—not polished Athenian rhetoric, perhaps, but plain, blunt words. With the Persian damsel, howsomever, my tongue seemed to swell up and fill my mouth.

After I had uttered some foolishness about the weather, she cast a glance towards Pyrron. The philosopher was striving, with his smattering of Persian, to learn from Inaudos about the customs of the Kordians, such as their habit of burying food beneath the floors of their houses, and keeping cheeses in pots for years. Nirouphar said:

"Troop Leader Rheon, I am utterly vexed! Would you could help me!"

I braced myself. "If there is aught I can do, dear lady, do you but name it."

"For days the wise Pyrron has avoided me. He talks but to you and my brother and the other men. Pray, find out what I have done to offend him!"

"You have done nought. It is only that Pyrron cares but little for the beauty of women."

"Do you mean he has the Greek vice?"

"Nay. I meant that the passions of the body mean little to him. His mind is always in a philosophical cloud. To him, you and I are but moving shadows; the real world is that of the intellect."

"But who spoke of the passions of the body? No such thought entered into our converse. I was learning Greek culture and had even come to understand a syllogism when he abruptly broke off our discourse. Please ask him what I must do to be deemed worthy of his wisdom again."

I said with a grin: "Let's say the rest of us became jealous of him for taking all the time of the fairest lady amongst us, and warned him to give us our share."

"Oh, rubbish! You know my brother is off scouting most of the time, whilst Kanadas merely grunts when I try to talk to him. I would not company with Thyestes, for he is a lustful man and ignorant, who regards a woman as nought but a sheath for his yard. As for you, you have been immersed in the hipparchia's affairs, and you gave me to know at the outset that you did not wish me underfoot."

"I thought that wretched quarrel was long since over and done with?"

"It is; but still you are not the sort of man with whom a prudent person takes liberties."

"Everybody seems to regard me as an ogre. But I am really a shy, timid wight beneath the bluster."

She looked astonished, then burst into laughter. "If a lion come to me and say, 'I am really a lamb beneath the mane and claws,' I shall believe him. If you are indeed a hare at heart, you hid the fact most masterfully."

"So it would seem. And that is not all I have been hiding."

"What mean you?"

"Is it not plain, woman? Love for you drives me to distraction. I burn in Tartaros with the thought of you."

She recoiled in her seat and looked at me as one would look at a scorpion in one's porridge, or so at least it seemed to me in my excited state.

"I know I am no thing of beauty," I muttered, "but I do have a good heart."

"It is not that, dear Rheon," she said gently. "In sooth, I should call you rather handsome in a rugged manly way. It is that you are not an Arian. Therefore, you should not even speak of love."

"I meant no offense, but that is the way of things. I am after all of a good landowning family, of the knightly class. For that matter, neither is Pyrron an Arian."

"Oh—but—but he is a philosopher. Philosophers belong to no nation but to the world. He says so."

"That is not how your brother looks upon the matter. Philosophers are born of human parents and beget human children like other men."

"Pyrron has never made lewd advances to me!"

"Who said he had? But you and he have been close enough on this journey to give rise to all kinds of surmises."

"And why should I not get as much education as opportunity allows? You Hellenes are worse than the men of my own nation. You cannot believe that a woman might wish to better herself. When you see one trying to learn, you are sure it is but an excuse, and that she really suffers from an itch beneath her trousers and seeks a hard horn to scratch it with!"

"My dear, I never said—"

"Nay, but you thought. And why should I not speak with Pyrron? You and the Indian go for hours without saying a word, but I am not like that. And Pyrron at least has never called me a useless burden."

"Oh, do stop twitting me on that!" I exclaimed. "I know I am a base boor, an unmannerly lout from the backwoods of Thessalia. I am unfit to give you a leg up in mounting. What can I do to gain your forgiveness?"

"You have it, good Rheon. I will not mention the matter again. And look not so sad. There are many girls of your own nation who would be glad to belong to so fine a hero as yourself."

"I want none of them the now. But what is fine about me? I am but a poor fumbling rustic, grappling with a task beyond his abilities."

"Say not so! You have most of the virtues I lack. I am flighty and easily turned from my path; you drive for your goal as straight as a migrating duck. I am often foolish and impractical in my judgments, whilst you shrewdly keep the final effects of every act in mind. I am carried away by the whim of the moment, but you keep your feelings under tight rein. When the cart wheel came off yesterday, few officers but would have flown into a rage and beaten the nearest servant or soldier within range of their fists. What said you? 'Come, lads; less chatter and more work. Let's get it back together,' as if such mishaps were to be expected."

"They are, so why waste effort in railing at them? But much though I esteem your praise, you do make me sound like a man with all the duller virtues."

"I find you not dull at all, once I get you opened up. After the constant turmoil of my family of passionate excitables, your solid good sense is a comfort. Betimes I could almost wish the gods had indeed made you an Arian!"

She shed a small tear. I did, too, partly to see her in sorrow and partly in self-pity. She said:

"Dry your tears, dear Rheon. Here comes my brother. If he see us thus, he will be sure you have dealt me a deadly thrust behind the nearest tussock. Now that I think, mayhap it was he, his mind full of brotherly forebodings, who commanded Pyrron to leave me forlorn. What know you of this?"

I looked surprised. "I know nought of any such thing!"

" 'Put no faith in any Hellene!' But my brother's solicitude is wasted, for I no more regard Pyrron as a possible mate than I would a statue. In answer to my questions, the philosopher told me he had tried the pleasures of love, found them overrated, and forsworn them. No such drooping ascetic for me, thank you! And no lewd remarks from you, either, my good Hipparch!"

Our sorrows were blown away by a gust of hearty laughter. Vardanas, coming back with his Dahas from a scouting ride, cast sharp looks upon us but said nought.

We reached Nisibis, a large, well-fortified town that bestrides the Mygdonios River where the latter passes through a ravine from the northern hills to the southern plains. Broad fields of wheat and barley and rich orchards surround Nisibis, and there are many rose gardens of the Persian type. Thence we set out for Rhesaina and Karrai. It was just after we left Nisibis that we had trouble with witchcraft.

Charinos of Krannon, whose woman had been killed by the lion in Sousiana, had a new concubine named Alogouna whom he had picked up in Babylon and who was paid by Vardanas to do washing and other light work for Nirouphar. Simon, another Thessalian, had a Persian concubine named Mandana, by whom he had two children. Mandana had been ailing—some wasting internal disease for which medicine can do nought. In Mygdonia, however, she picked upon Alogouna as the source of her trouble. Methinks she did so merely because the Babylonian had a sharp tongue and was, forbye, younger and better favored than most of the soldiers' women.

The first I knew of this was when Thyestes brought Simon to me. "Troop Leader," said the soldier, twisting his feet and scowling, "you maun do something about that witch."

"What witch?" I said.

"Charinos' hussy. She has bewitched my Mandana so that she's sick to death. None of us is safe while the witch live."

I will not repeat all the long discussion. Charinos could cite no real evidence of witchcraft; he had only his concubine's sick conviction and his own vague suspicion. This suspicion, however, he had communicated to several of his comrades. They, too, came to demand drastic action against Alogouna. I, for my part, fetched in Pyrron to argue that their fears were based on nought but groundless superstition.

Argument, howsomever, got us nowhere. Charinos denied that his quean had been working goetic magic; the others remained as stubbornly sure she had been. I closed our last meeting with these words:

"There's no proof that any lass has done aught to any other, by natural or uncanny means. Are we savages, to convict folk on vague suspicion or womanish jealousies? Go back to your tents, buckies, and pray to Apollon to cause any evil spell to recoil upon the sender. There shall be no violence or persecution, d'you ken?"

They went sullenly. For a few days nought betided. Then, at Rhesaina on the Chaboras, Alogouna disappeared. All, including Charinos, protested utter ignorance of what had befallen her. For several days I knew not if she had been murdered, or had hidden in Rhesaina, or had flown away on the back of a demon conjured up by her sorcery. Then Nirouphar told me:

"She fled and hid in the town, Rheon. I so advised her. The men were all ready to strangle her and bury her quietly that night. You would never have known."

"Thank the gods you saved us from that! At this rate you'll prove as necessary to me as your brother."

"Oh, fie! I will wager you say that to all the women."

We reached the upper Euphrates at Europos, which the Syrians call Karchemis. Here we saw again the frantic commercial hustle of a Syrian town. Everywhere people made things: jewelry and glassware and weapons and embroidered garments. Everybody who was not molding glass or hammering gold or stitching cloth was lying in wait to sell his wares.

When we had camped outside the walls, I entered the town with Elisas to buy provisions. Pyrron went along, too, because, he said, he could not bear to miss any new sights.

As soon as we put foot upon the narrow, muddy street that wound between the jutting angles of mud-brick houses, hawkers swarmed about us. Their voices rose to a roar.

"Lovely beads for your lady!" "This dagger is forged from the magical ore of Damascus! Feel the point!" "This flask of perfume will melt a heart of stone!" "Look at this fine tunic! Just feel these goods!" "Naughty pictures, to give your comrades a laugh!" "How about a beautiful rug for your tent?" "Come, O Hellene, and meet my sister! Nice clean girl, very passionate!"

I was about to buy a string of beads for Nirouphar when Elisas said in Greek: "Stay away from them, Troop Leader. Let me handle purchases. I know my own folk. Bastards."

I should have taken the sutler's advice without comment, but Pryron had to pry further into matters. "That's a peculiar thing to say, Elisas. Why are you so severe with your own nation?"

Elisas shrugged. "Because I am one. Born in Chalybon. I know their good and bad points. Skillful workers, shrewd merchants. Very religious; castrate selves for love of goddess Atargatis. But not philosophers. Not soldiers any more either."

"How did this come about?" said Pyrron. "Do you mean you were fighters once?"

"Oh yes, mighty warriors, like great king Keretos. But all separate; each city with its own little king. We could not get together to fight foreigners, so they always conquered us: Egyptians, Judaeans, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, and now Macedonians."

Pyrron smiled. "That sounds like Hellas."

"It is. And it will be the same with you Hellenes, divided into many little quarreling states. You will see. But from being conquered so often we have lost our—how would you say—self-respect." Elisas sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could be a fine warrior and gentleman like you. But Baalos did not make me one, and it is too late to change." He wept.

This confession made me feel friendlier towards the little man than ever before. I gave him a gentle clap on the back, which all but felled him, and said: "Cheer up, laddie! If you're no swordsman, at least you foresee what supplies we shall need. That's no mean virtue."

During our stay in Europos, Elisas went around with the mien of one sunk in deepest gloom, though he brushed aside my questions as to what ailed him. When we were packing to leave, he came to me with a moneybag and said:

"Troop Leader Leon, I am a worthless vagabond. Even after you beat me in Soustara, I still took more than my just tenth from the tradesmen, though I became more careful. You, however, not only forgave my earlier sin, but also saved my life in the Tigris. Since then my sins have weighed me down. In Karchemis I have prayed to Baalos in the temple and have confessed to the priest. To him I bared all my sins. He told me I should suffer the lash of the seven demons of guilt until I told you my fault and repaired my wrong. So here is all the money I have taken from the merchants, over my allowed tenth, after deducting my offering to the temple. Does it please my lord?"

"Zeus!" I said. "As that playwriting fellow said, wonders are many, but none is more wonderful than man." I counted out the money. "Let's say no more about it. If you can keep yourself as honest as this for the rest of the journey, I'll try to reward you at the final reckoning."

"I thank you, noble Hipparch," he said, and turned away.

"One moment," I said. "To keep the demons of guilt at bay, hadn't you best give me back those two didrachmons you just now picked up from the pile?"

"You are my father and mother," he said, and handed me back the two coins. "Good for my morals that you have such sharp eyes. I thought you would not notice."

The road bore southwest and wound through a pass, called the Syrian Gate, in the forest-clad Amanos Mountains. When we came out of the pass and sighted the sea before us, I raised a shout of "the Sea!" as Xenophon's men had done many years before. Tire Thessalians echoed it.

On a strip of land betwixt the Amanos and the sea, I found the half-built city of Alexandreia-by-Issos. The workmen were laboring on the town in leisurely fashion. The sight of the elephant brought the work to a halt as everybody downed tools and rushed to see the sight.

"Who commands here?" I said, first in Greek, then in Persian, and lastly in my foul Syrian.

A Syrian said: "I am the master mason Pabilos, contractor for stonework. Can I sell you some fine building stone? If the noble hipparch mean to settle here, he will want a good stone house, not a mud hut that melts in the rain—"

"Save your breath, friend," I said. "I seek the viceroy Menes."

"He is at Myriandros; he comes here but twice or thrice a month to see how the work progresses. Would you not like a good building lot if I can get one for you at half the regular price?"

"Nay! Whither lies Myriandros?"

"Half a day's journey along the coast." Pabilos pointed southwest. "If the noble hipparch want a house in the Greek style, I can—"

"No house, thank you," I said, and led the hipparchia off on the coastal road.

Myriandros was no half-day's journey for the hipparchia; so hardened were we to travel that we reached it in two hours. A soldier directed us to the house of Achatos, the mayor. There were a pair of ruffianly guards lounging in front of the door, who reminded me unpleasantly of those at Persepolis.

The first man they fetched was Mayor Achatos, a tubby Syrian with a worried look. "Good Troop Leader," he said, "cannot your business be put off? Will it not wait till the morrow?"

"Why?"

"Our noble viceroy—may Baalos bless him—is sick. Indisposed is he."

"What ails him?"

"A toothache."

"Then my business will not wait. I am here on the express orders of King Alexander."

Achatos sighed and disappeared. Presently he came back with another Syrian, Menes' secretary, Chiramos. I had to go through the same argument again. At last Chiramos went away, promising to do what he could.

Achatos gave me a sharp look. "Are you intimate with the king? Are you close to him?"

"I am in constant touch with him by post," I said. "What about it?"

"Then can I make a plea to you in confidence? May I submit a private petition?"

"Surely."

Achatos jerked his thumb. "Can you do aught towards getting him out of here?"

"Menes?"

"Yes. In confidence, mind you. My life is in the hollow of your hand. But I am beset; I am desperate; I am frantic."

"What is the matter with him?"

"Oh, no doubt he is no worse than other officials. But, as he likes Myriandros, he settles here for months at a time. The town has to pay for his keep and that of his folk. He takes my best rooms and then complains about the quarters. His bodyguards pinch my daughters' buttocks and make lewd proposals to them. It is but a matter of time before they are raped or seduced, if indeed it have not already befallen unbeknownst to me. Could you persuade Alexander to order him to Damascus or some such place big enough for him? You would not find the town of Myriandros ungrateful."

Pressed for money as we were, I should probably have wrung as big a bribe as I could from the man, had not a roar from within interrupted us. A muffled voice exclaimed in Persian:

"I care not if it be Alexander's pet monkey, sent from India to plague me. I said I would hear no more petitions today! Get rid of him!"

There was a murmur of speech, and at last the same voice said: "Oh, Mithras smite the fellow! I will see him, but only for a moment."

The man who strode out was a tall stout Persian with a graying beard and a cloth tied around his swollen jaw. He mumbled in bad Greek:

"I am Menes. What is your business?"

In Persian I told him of my mission. "So I need a ship, arranged to carry an elephant. Here is my letter of authorization from Eumenes." He glanced at the letter, then groaned and clutched his jaw. "No, no, it is not the letter, but my cursed tooth. I have tried medicine, magic, and prayer; but nothing does any good."

"In Thessalia we knock the aching tooth out with a hammer and a nail when it gets unbearable."

"I thought of that." Menes lowered his voice. "But, do you know, Hipparch, I have a deathly fear of such surgery? I, a big strong man who has fought in great battles? Now, let us see this letter." He moved his lips as he read it slowly, then pursed them. "I doubt if I can help you. Where is this elephant?"

"Outside in the street."

Menes and I walked out. The viceroy looked a little taken aback by the hipparchia, drawn up around our carts as if we expected a battle. Our experience with governors had made us wary. At the sight of Aias, however, Menes turned to me with a smile on his stern face.

"The pain of my tooth went away as soon as I laid eyes on the beast," he said. "It must be a good omen."

But then he frowned as he sauntered round the elephant, looking him up and down. "What does it weigh?"

I asked Kanadas, but he knew no more than I. "Nobody knows," I said. "After all, there is no scale in the world for weighing such a mass. I should guess several hundred talents."

"Hmm," said Menes. "That looks bad. It is not so much the weight as the fact that it will all be gathered into one place, if you understand me. Also, as the elephant moves about, the ship will tip. Let me think. It would take one of the largest rates..." he continued, half to himself. "We have a pair of eighters, the Terrible and Horrible, at Tyre. Then we have the four fivers of the Victory class, the Victory and Triumph at Arados and the Fame and Glory at Sidon. But these are all laid up out of commission, and it would take months to refit one and make it into an elephant barge. There are also some big ships in reserve at Alexandreia-in-Egypt, but those would do no more good than these I have mentioned."

"Why are there no suitable ships in readiness?" I asked.

"At the close of King Dareios' naval effort in the Western Sea, King Alexander sent word to lay up most of his larger ships, because they were too costly to run and were no longer needed for battles. The three-bankers, he said, would suffice to keep down pirates."

"Will you swear by Auramasdas that you have no ships that could carry Aias?"

"May you be kinless, Hellene, for doubting the word of a Persian gentleman!" he burst out. Then he added in normal tones: "If you wished to wait till summer, however, and I could find enough tax money, we might convert a ship now in reserve."

"We cannot wait so long."

Menes shrugged. "The king should have written me about this sooner. Even if we had a ship, it would do you little more good than these hulks I have spoken of. Nobody in his right mind would set out on a voyage to Hellas in the depth of winter. A gale would sink you ere you rounded Cape Anemourion."

"Well, then, tell me what to do. I must get this beast to Athens, and it is too far to swim."

Menes thought. "Your best chance is to go overland to Ephesos."

"Ephesos! But that is hundreds of leagues!"

"True, but there Philoxenos has some larger ships still in commission, to watch the truculent Greek states."

"Who is Philoxenos?"

"Admiral of the Aegean."

"This is terrible news! Our resources will not take us thither."

Menes shrugged again. "I do but think of your good. At best a sea voyage with the elephant will be dangerous, and I would cut it as short as I could."

I beat my head with my knuckles. Any such lengthening of our land journey would eat not only into our bonus funds but into Xenokrates' gift also. Of course I could present my draft to Harpalos in Tarsos, but, from what I had seen of Alexander's officials, I was doubtful of his honoring it.

"What is the route?" I asked. "The itinerary that Alexander's surveyors gave me went only to the Syrian coast."

"Let me think. The main road from Kilikia runs northwest to Tyana in Katpatouka." (This is the Persian name for Kappadokia.) "Then it takes a winding course westward and joins the Persian royal highway at Ipsos in Phrygia. After that, follow your nose to Ephesos. Of course, we are at war with Arivarates of Katpatouka, but hitherto Antigonos has kept the post road from Kilikia to the west open. So you should have no trouble."

"Why could I not follow the southern coast, where the climate is milder and the threat of war less imminent?"

"There is no continuous road along the southern coast; broken it is by many capes and bays. There are tracks and footpaths from one village to the next, but often one must march far inland. This time of year, even the tracks will be washed out."

Now it was my turn to groan. Further argument failed to move Menes, whose tooth now began to hurt him again. In a rage he shouted:

"I cannot do the impossible! I have no suitable ship and cannot get one before midsummer. Take your monster to Egypt or to Ari-manes for all I care. It is not my fault that you thought not of such matters beforehand."

Much as I should have liked to yell back at him, I saw that this would only antagonize him the more, and there was yet something he could do for me if he would. I said:

"I fear you are right about my stupidity, Menes, but it is too late to begin the journey over. Will you do me one favor?"

"What?"

"Write me a letter to Philoxenos, explaining why you could not give me a ship and asking him to do so instead."

Menes grumbled: "I am not his master. If he refuse, I can do nought. But I will write your wretched letter, if only to get rid of you."

He stamped back into the house, holding his jaw and roaring: "Chiramos! Where is that polluted Syrian? You cannot trust these Syrians for an instant; turn your back and they sneak off—ah, there you are! Come along, come along, do not keep me waiting. I have an urgent letter to get out."

As he dictated, the pain in his tooth abated. Or, at least, he felt he had been too severe with me, for he mixed his dictation with advice and apology: "Menes, viceroy of Syria, greets Admiral Philoxenos. Excuse my outburst, Hipparch. This letter goes by the hand of Troop Leader Leon of Atrax. I am not myself, with my toothache and all. The king, our master, has commanded Leon to take an elephant from India to Athens. The cold on the Anatolian plateau may be too severe for your beast, though. Perhaps you should wait in Kilikia for spring. To carry this creature across the sea, the king commanded me to prepare a ship. But watch out for Harpalos. In confidence, he is a tricky scoundrel. However, such a cargo would need a ship of the largest size. But if you get through to Antigonos you should be all right. He is loyal at least—"

Chiramos threw down his tablet and burst into tears. "Noble Viceroy!" he wailed. "How can I take dictation when you speak partly to me and partly to your visitor? Pray, pray address one or the other until you have finished!"

Menes' tooth gave him a twinge, for he shut his eyes and groaned. Then he opened them and howled: "You sniveling Syrian blockhead! I will—"

He chased Chiramos out of the room, leaving me to think about the advice he had given.

From Alexandreia-by-Issos, the road northward goes through a pass near the sea. The Syrians call this the Kilikian Gate, while the Kilikians, on the other side, call it the Syrian Gate. Beyond this Syrio-Kilikian Gate we passed Issos and splashed through the ford at the Pinaros. Recalling that Vardanas had fought on the Persian side not only at the Granikos and Gaugamela but also at Issos, I said:

"Was it you whom I smote so hard on the head at Issos that I broke my sword and had to pick one up on the field? It was that sickle-curved Thracian blade I bore ere that thieving guide stole it."

Any Hellene would have said yes to make a good story of it. But Vardanas, after thought, said: "No, Leon, none struck me on the head at Issos. But several tried."

North of Issos the land opened out into the Kilikian plain. This is a fertile country of deep, soft soil. The air was cool, mild, damp, and hazy. The rains had turned the roads into strips of mud even deeper than those of Syria. We crossed the Pyramos at Mopsou-hestia, supposedly the home of Mopsos the diviner in Trojan times, and the Saros at Adana without mishap.

Pyrron continued to keep his distance from Nirouphar, who found herself thrown into my company for want of other persons with whom to converse. She said:

"Come, O Rheon, tell me of your home and family. Who are your folk?"

"We are knights of Thessalia, a branch of the Aleuadai, with much the position in our land that your family has in yours. If none has been born, wedded, or died in the last year, they're as follows: There is my father Aristos, a short stout fellow, as mild as milk. Then there is my mother, Rhoda. She is taller than my father and rides him with a tight rein."

"Indeed? I thought all Greek men ruled their women with rods of iron!"

"So they boast, but it is not the whole truth. When last I heard from them, my mother's mother was still alive and hearty, albeit well past sixty. There is my elder brother Demonax, who is really the best man of the lot of us, and his wife Zobia and their two infants, and my younger brother Aristos, and my sister Phila, and a couple of widowed aunts and an orphaned cousin who live with us. I also have two married sisters who live elsewhere, and a brother who died."

"Do not tell me the names of all those others yet! I shall find it hard enough to remember those you have already named. It sounds like a big, bustling family, like ours in Sousa."

"Oh, it is all of that! I will warrant that during our quarrels we out-shout any other family in Thessalia."

Thus were things made intimate between us. Nirouphar had one of the most attractive qualities a woman can have, that of drawing a man out and making him feel important. Betimes, when I became too pompous, her brother would gaily puncture my dignity with some needle-pointed Persian witticism; but she never did. No wonder I loved her!

At Adana I called a council and said: "Lads, we now near the lair of Harpalos. Several of those we have met have dropped hints of warning against this man. It seems likely, therefore, that he will not only refuse the money the king has empowered us to draw from the treasury, but will also try to seize what little we have left. That's the pass we face; how shall we put the horses to it?"

Vardanas said: "We had better keep the women out of his sight, if the tales of his lechery be true."

"That reminds me," I said, "that his brother Philippos in India advised me to give him something in the female line to get on his good side. What think you of such a proposal?"

" 'Tis over-late to think on that," said Thyestes. "For a slave girl of the sort that would excite the old satyr, we maun go back to Babylon and spend ten or twenty pounds of silver."

"Besides," said Vardanas, "when was the tiger's appetite sated by a lamb chop? If he mean to rob us, he will hardly be deflected from his aim by such a gift."

Thyestes said: "I misdoubt he'll try to lure us into soft quarters in his palace, there to seize us in our sleep. So let's refuse all sic offers and camp in a place where we can either fight or flee."

Vardanas said: "And let us keep not only more sentries on duty, but one or two mounted pickets to watch the roads. My Dahas are good at that."

Kanadas said: "Keep half of horses saddled, half of mules hitched, and elephant ready to move."

Pyrron said: "Whilst I'm not a military man and so unaccustomed to guarding my life and liberty against dastardly plots, it would seem advisable not to let more than one of us into the treasurer's grasp at any one time."

"Good," I said. "And we'll do more than that. We'll keep half our men under arms at all times."

Thyestes frowned. "I'm no sure about that, Leon."

"Why?"

"The men are getting clean worn down with pushing ahead, day after day. They're beginning to grumble that we shall never reach Hellas and they'll never have a chance to rest again. They'll no like continuous duty."

I agreed to a four-man watch, which was one quarter of our remaining Thessalians. I also bought some extra lengths of chain with which I bound the chests, and doubled the guard over them.

I also wrote the king daily, telling of my suspicions and of the precautions taken. Of course, Harpalos might still crush us by overwhelming force; but I could think of no more ways to guard against attacks by stealth and treachery.

And thus, in the first third of Elaphebolion, we came to Tarsos. The Kydnos flows through the town and then opens out into an estuary that forms a fine harbor. The town itself is of mixed Hellenic and Syrian culture. In the market place we saw sophists disputing, Phoenician traders chaffering, and Greek mercenaries swaggering. All business stopped at the sight of the elephant. People ran alongside, heedless of their dignity, to shout questions in a Greek dialect that I could hardly understand. The liveliness and curiosity of the folk made me well nigh feel as if I were once more home in Hellas.

Despite the pleas of the populace, I would not stop in the market place. We went on out the north gate on the road to Kappadokia. I looked for a defensible knoll to camp on; but the plain is flat in all directions around Tarsos, though we could see the Taurus Mountains against the sky line to the north.

We therefore chose a grove of trees several furlongs north of the city. When I had made sure that the camp was guarded against sudden surprisal, and that sharp eyes were watching in all directions, I returned to the city. To command respect, as Vardanas had taught me, I rode upon the elephant, clad in my finest raiment. Elisas, who came with me, could have ridden Aias also, as there was room for four in the booth. But, still dreading the beast, he preferred his mule.

Harpalos had taken over the palace of the Persian viceroys. This structure stood in a park surrounded by a high brick wall with spikes along the top. At the gate stood a pair of hoplites in gilded helms and cuirasses. I gave my message, and soon a young Hellene came to escort us to Alexander's treasurer.

Inside the wall was an elegant park where flourished trees and shrubs from many distant lands; for, after money and women, exotic plants were Harpalos' next most pressing passion.

The palace was a spacious structure of tawny brick with a fine stone portico upheld by marble columns in half-Hellenized style. Large though the palace was already, Harpalos was adding a wing. Masons chipped, carpenters hammered, and plasterers scraped.

As the usher led us towards the portico, he said: "If we chance to meet the treasurer's second—ah—wife, Glykera, we must prostrate ourselves and cry: 'Rejoice, O Queen!'"

"Queen?" said I, with a gravid glance at Elisas. "Mean you I must flop down on my belly to some unknown strumpet—"

"Not so loud, good sir, please! If you wish aught from the treasurer, you must, like the octopus, take on the color of your surroundings."

The front doors of the palace stood open, with guards erect beside them. Inside, we passed through a shadowy audience hall whose roof was upheld by a forest of pillars, like unto the audience halls at Persepolis but on a smaller scale. From the remoter rooms of the palace came the clink of the coiners' hammers. After a wait in an anteroom, we were ushered into the treasurer's private office.

Harpalos son of Machatas was a stout man who looked much like his brother Philippos. He was oiled and scented and clean-shaven and clad in a shimmering silken robe like that which I had seen on Vaxathras in Sousa. One could have mistaken him for a gelding. From the pomp of his surroundings I expected him to be as haughty as a Persian king. Instead, he rose and greeted us warmly, embracing me and patting Elisas' cheek. Tire only odd thing about him was that his bulging green eyes stared in a way that reminded me of a fish.

"Rejoice, blessed ones!" he cried in a good if Macedonian-accented Greek. His fat made him wheeze as he spoke. "I have heard of your coming and of your exploits; my brother has written me from distant India. Ah—surely the spirit of my deified first wife Pythonike has watched over you, to bring you through so many perils safely! Have a drop of this; it is real Chian. When did you see the divine Alexander last?"

"Last summer," I said, sipping the marvelous wine. "Have you heard about his wounding?"

"Nay. What's this?"

"Ah—he climbed the wall of the city of the Mallians at the head of his men, leapt down inside, and fought the Indians almost alone before his men could reach him. An arrow pierced his lung, and his life is despaired of, if indeed he have not already perished."

"How terrible! What a calamity!" I said. "Pray the gods will speed his recovery. Is there aught more to tell?"

"No; this is the latest news to arrive, though it was sent from India nearly a month ago."

I was not merely being polite in my concern for the king's health. Alexander had no heirs. If he died now, his generals and officials would scramble for power, and a mere troop leader with a chest full of treasure would be swallowed at a gulp by the first one to lay hand upon him. To enjoy any kind of protection, we—the hipparchia—should have to shop for a new master.

Howsomever, I did not need to believe that Harpalos was telling the truth, or that Alexander had died forsooth. The king, for all his small size, was a man of great strength and endurance who had recovered from the gravest of wounds ere this.

We got down to business. I handed over Eumenes' letter authorizing me to draw upon the treasury, explained Menes' refusal to give us a ship, and brought out a statement of our expenses.

"Explain it, Elisas," I said.

When Elisas had done so, Harpalos said: "Let me praise the order in which you have kept your accounts, O Hipparch. You should see some of the statements I receive! Nothing but wild guesses as to whither the money has gone. Now, ah—as to this, the king's word is of course law. Leave this letter to me, and all shall be taken care of."

"When, O Harpalos?"

"Do not worry, best one. A transaction like this takes at least a few days. You will have to confer with my man Pygmalion, to reckon the cost of your remaining journey. And he, alas, is not here."

"Where then is he?"

"Ah—he went home to Byblos for a visit. I expect him back soon. Meanwhile, make yourselves comfortable. I hear you are camped in the mud on the Kappadokian road. Surely we can find space for you in the city?"

The man seemed so friendly and charming that it was hard to refuse. Even Elisas, who took no sunny view of human nature, cast me a longing glance. I found myself weakening.

But, as says Hippokrates, appearances are deceptive. Just then the lamplight caught a huge ruby in a ring on Harpalos' thumb. This was the kind of gem one would look for in the headcloth of an Indian king. Harpalos had not, I thought, bought that jewel in the open market on his salary. I said:

"I thank you, my lord treasurer. But I think we'll stay where we are."

"My dear old chap, why make life so hard for yourself?"

I smiled. "I've found it best to keep the lads roughing it. Then they mind it not. But, if once I bed them down on soft cushions, they hate to move on. When they do strike the road again, I get nought but sulks and grumbles over lack of comfort. Nay, you'd best let us be, for we yet have a long hard road before us."

He seemed a little hurt, but accepted my refusal on condition that I would take dinner with him. He wanted all the officers at once.

Remembering Babylon, I refused again, allowing him only one at a time.

"A man of grim and austere principles you must be," he said. "Would I had more such men to serve me! Perhaps someday we can do something about that." He winked one bulging green eye.

That night I dined with Harpalos and some of his officials. Although I expected an oriental orgy like that in Babylon, nothing of the sort occurred. Nor did "Queen" Glykera appear.

Yet I was struck by the sumptuousness of this dinner. Off golden plates we ate delicacies from as far away as Babylonia and Persia. Though the rigors of the journey had rendered me almost slim, a month of Harpalos' dinners, I thought, would make me too fat to mount a horse.

My couch mate was a man named Sabiktas, clad as a Hellene but speaking with a strong accent that led me to class him as some sort of Thracian or Bithynian. He was, he explained half jestingly, Alexander's viceroy of Kappadokia.

"I was legally and officially appointed," he said, "and I can prove it. But what good does that do me, when that whipworthy rogue Arivarates holds sway in my province? If Antigonos, whose duty it is, would rouse himself to drive out the dog-faced usurper, I could rise to my just position in the world. Every year we hear of some stunning victory Antigonos has won over the Kappadokians. But then it turns out that the boundaries remain where they were, and the usurper is as firm on his throne as ever."

After the meal, some of the officials got a puckle drunk and rallied Harpalos on his success with women. To hear them talk, one would think him a satyr and a Herakles rolled into one. He lolled on his couch, soaking up the praise with a bland smile, until he fixed his fishlike stare on me.

"Leon!" he said. "I am told there is a handsome girl in your hipparchia; the sister of that Persian officer."

"Well?" I said.

"Fetch her here some evening; we will have a mixed dinner. Some really lively entertainment. Ah—I will find a good bouncing wench for you."

This was only one of several remarks which showed that Harpalos knew more about our expedition than he had any right to know. Pie must, I thought, have spies everywhere. If he wanted me to fetch Nirouphar and then provide me with another woman, one needed not the wisdom of Solon to see that he had lewd intentions towards the Persian maid. As we say at home, wine is wont to reveal the mind of man.

Back at the camp next morn, I called my friends together. "Bring your sister," I told Vardanas.

"Now," I said, "our great sausage of a treasurer is fain to entertain our Nirouphar at dinner the night—"

"Oh, good!" cried the lass. "I have not seen a party since Vardanas so cruelly dragged me forth from that one in Babylon."

"I'm sorry, Nirouphar dear, but I fear you cannot go to this one, either."

"You are a beast, Rheon of Atrax! Why can I not?"

"Because Harpalos, though no athlete, needs no mounting block to vault upon his chosen steed." I reminded them of Harpalos' repute as a judge of many-gaited women, and told them of his proposal to me.

"Oh," said Nirouphar.

Vardanas said: "I have heard rumors of this man's lechery. His fellow officials did not unduly puff up his prowess. We must hide my sister."

"But where?" said I. "In the bottom of a cart?"

After we had talked the matter over without agreement, I called in Elisas and put the problem to him.

The Syrian smiled. "No need to hide her in a cart, noble Hipparch. Let me fix her up, and you shall see."

"What do you mean?" said Vardanas.

"No harm, Lord Vardanas. I will not hurt her honor."

Two hours later, Elisas led in a shuffling beldame with straggly gray hair hanging down before her face.

"Arimanes!" cried Vardanas. "What has he done to you, Nirouphar?"

"A little flour in the hair," said Elisas. "Some of the shabbier clothes from the soldiers' women, a touch of cosmetics, a little practice in acting like a crone, and behold!"

I suppose Elisas had once been involved in some sort of slaving or kidnaping, so well did he know the art of hiding a woman while she walks about in plain view. We were none too soon with our disguise. Ere noon, our Dahan picket galloped in to warn us of a party approaching from Tarsos.

Then a group of Harpalos' mercenaries arrived with a wagonload of wineskins and the treasurer's compliments. The wine was Rhodian, fine stuff albeit not Chian. I put it under guard, for swifter than the flight of a falcon can a generous supply of liquor ruin a military unit.

I accompanied the mercenaries back to the palace to send my thanks in to the treasurer and ask about Pygmalion. No, he had not returned. When I got back to camp, Vardanas said:

"A fellow was around here with a bid from Harpalos to dinner. All the officers are to come; also Pyrron and Nirouphar."

"What said you?"

"That we could do nought without you. He asked after my sister, too, saying he wanted a look at her. We showed him Nirouphar in her haggish guise, and he went away frowning."

"Go you to this dinner and represent the rest. Pick up what news you can."

"That's no all, Leon," said Thyestes. "I just had a whin of a talk with the Persian lass, and she has something to tell you."

"Fetch her, then," I said.

When Nirouphar came in, she said: "Do you remember the man in charge of the gift of wine this morning?"

"Aye."

"Well, whilst the men were unloading the skins, this fellow got Kronios and a few other troopers aside and quizzed them about camping here in the mud. He said: did they not think it uncommonly cruel of the hipparch to keep them out in the rain when nice soft berths awaited them in Tarsos? Kronios told me about it, for he has been aiming a stiff spear at me ever since his woman ran away."

"I will show the baseborn lout!" said Vardanas, but the rest of us shushed him. Nirouphar continued:

"I also heard Porygonos say: if you, Rheon, love sleeping out, nobody is stopping you, but they like a little comfort ere they die."

I said: "That's serious. What think you I should do, Thyestes?"

"Call the ruckle together and make a speech, telling them as much about our true plight as you dare."

I groaned, being no willing orator; but it had to be done. I talked softly and finished: "What I'm trying to say is: 'Twill be time to thank the benevolence of this gentleman when he's given us our silver and let us out of his grip, without trying to steal it back."

The men were quieted for the nonce. But, weary of the road and of my everlasting prodding and pushing, they remained sullen.

The next day Pygmalion was still absent. I insisted on another word with Harpalos, who was all smiles and promises.

"I know how eager you are to get on, dear Leon," he said. "But in another day or two he will surely be back. If not, I will write him ... No, there is nobody else whom I would trust with such a reckoning. Pygmalion is a skilled computer who has studied arithmetic under the wise Babylonians."

That evening, Thyestes went to the palace to be entertained. Harpalos sent a wagonload of his exotic dainties to our camp. This was a clever man. Rather than stiffen our resistance by openly attacking us, he would dissolve it away in the juices of kindness and generosity.

The next day there was still no Pygmalion, and another load of good things to eat and drink arrived at camp. Harpalos also sent some soldiers of the garrison and a troop of harlots, all wreathed and garlanded for revelry. Whilst Pyrron was feasted at the palace, I strove to keep my men sober and orderly. Despite my efforts, howsomever, an orgy was soon under way. When words ceased to avail, my officers and I resorted to blows.

The next thing I knew, four Thessalians laid hold of me and bore me, cursing and struggling, to the banks of the Kydnos, into which they tossed me. The waters of the little river, though but a few palms deep, were like ice. Thyestes followed me with a splash.

When we had dragged ourselves out, I said: "Buckie, saw you who's back of this? An I knew who he was, I'd kill the dastard."

" 'Twas none of our lads at all," replied he between chattering teeth. " 'Twas those all-abandoned men and women the treasurer sent to corrupt them."

When we got back to camp, the disturbance had somewhat abated because some of the people had fallen into drunken slumber. As nobody was on watch, we had no trouble getting to our tents and arming ourselves. Nearby, Vardanas held his four Dahas in a ring around Nirouphar's tent. Kanadas and Siladites guarded Aias.

"Oh, there you are!" cried Vardanas. "What befell you?"

"I'll tell you later," I said. "Get your bow. To massacre the whole hipparchia were a remedy too strong for the disease, but we can at least drive out the polluted Tarsians."

We made our plans. Thyestes blew the trumpet. When silence had fallen, I roared in my best battle voice:

"I will count three, and then every man or woman who belongs not to the hipparchia shall be slain with arrows or trampled by the elephant. One—two—three! Go to it, lads!"

The elephant gave a frightful squeal and lumbered into the camp. From his back Vardanas' bow twanged. One of Harpalos' soldiers yelled as the arrow skewered his leg. The Dahas walked into the firelight alongside the elephant, bows drawn.

In a trice the visitors scrambled up and fled. I saw at least two men rise up unsated from women in order to run. And so ended the mutiny.

The next day the men were contrite as I held court and doled out fines and beatings. One, however, had disappeared. I ought to have searched Tarsos for him, but I had too much else on my mind. He was only Polygonos of Iolkos, the least worthy of the Thessalians, and no great loss.

There was still no Pygmalion at the palace. Struck by a thought, I asked the young usher about the missing mathematician.

"That old Phoenician?" said the usher. "He died a month ago. The treasurer sent his body back to his folk in Byblos."

As soon as I got back to camp, I gave orders to strike our tents. Off we went again. Meseemed that Harpalos was keeping me dangling until he learned whether Alexander lived. If the king died, Harpalos would feel he could seize us with impunity.

We could not reach the Kilikian Gate, the pass from the Kilikian plain to the highlands of Kappadokia, by nightfall. We did, however, camp in the shadow of the Taurus. Just to make sure, I took another look at our treasure chests. No sooner had I laid hands on them than I cried:

"Immortal Zeus!"

"What is it?" said Thyestes and Vardanas, running up to the tent at the sound of my voice.

I whispered: "Those are not our chests!"

Thyestes' mouth fell open, and Vardanas sat down. The latter said: "Mithras grant that you be wrong!"

"Not so loud!" I said, tearing at the chains. "I know our chests well. I've been in and out of them often enough. Ours had three bronze clasps each, while this one has but two and that one is closed by a sliding bolt. They're the same size and shape as ours, but anybody from Karia to Carthage can see the difference. Oh, why did I no look at them more closely this morning!"

At last I got one of the chests open. It held nought but bricks. I opened the other, though I knew it would prove to contain bricks too, as indeed it did. Thyestes said:

"It maun be that one of the parties the treasurer sent out to provision us looked our chests over. Then last night during the party, his men traded for ours a pair as nearly like them as could be found in Tarsos. The men we had guarding them had wine as a chain about their wits, too."

I beat my head with my knuckles. "Woe, woe! What in Hera's name shall we do the now, bodies? We're fair ruined. How shall we ever face the Alexander?"

"'Tis a sad outcome to our labors," said Thyestes. "Could we no steal our chests back from Harpalos?"

"Nay; he'll have stowed the treasure in his vaults and be on watch for us."

"Well then, what for no seize one of these villages and gar the folk to disgorge their hordes? I kens some tricks with fire that'll wring silver from the most beggarly looking loons." Thyestes smiled a sinister smile and made motions of brushing hot metal against flesh.

"None of that!" I said. "We have troubles enow without inviting more."

"It need no be a town on the main road, that could easily send a waul till the government. And sin time began, that's how commanders of troops have refilled their coffers."

"I said nay! The king forbade it ane's errand."

"You're either addle-witted or fainthearted, Leon Aristou, to let that stop you in time of need."

"Hold your tongue, an you can think of nought better! I'll carry out my orders to the letter or die trying."

"Then what shall we do indeed?" said Vardanas, tears running down his face. "Slay ourselves? Turn pirate or highwayman?"

For a while we sat in deepest gloom. At last Thyestes said: "We maun ask the philosopher. Though a fool in the feck of practical matters, he does have a store of his own kind of wisdom."

When appealed to, Pyrron said: "My word, this is a shocking surprise! But I don't think we're reduced to such drastic measures as suicide yet. We still have the elephant, so it's our duty to carry on and get the animal to Athens. 'Before virtue have the deathless gods set the sweat of man's brow.'"

"But how?" I said. "We cannot get Aias to Ephesos without men to ward him and gather fodder for him, and we cannot hold the men without money to pay them. Let them hear we're moneyless, and most will look for another master."

Pyrron said: "If Siladites has taught Aias a few tricks, we might pass a helmet for gifts in the villages."

"We might thus collect a whole drachma a day," I said. "Man, you have no idea of how much this creature eats! And the Anatolian villagers are thrifty carles."

For half an hour we talked of ways to beg, borrow, earn, or steal enough money or food to get us to Ephesos, but without finding a solution. Then one of the treasure guards put his head into the tent and said:

"Troop Leader, the sutler is lief to speak with you."

Elisas came in, glanced at the brick-filled chests, and said: "Lord Leon, if you come with me, I will show you something you will like."

Inaudos the Kordian was with him. The twain conducted us to the carts. Inaudos, grinning, thrust his arms into a cart full of food. Under the sacks of flour, on the floor of the cart, lay our money.

Inaudos went to another cart full of hay. Underneath were piled the animal skins and other specimens from India.

"Did you do this?" I said.

"Yes," said Elisas. "Inaudos helped me. We thought chaining up the chests and posting guards all around them would only draw the treasurer's eye to them. Did, too. So we moved all the treasure to these carts and put earth and firewood in the chests. Then when Harpalos' men took our chests and left chests full of bricks, they only traded bricks for sand and wood."

"Why didna you tell me? We've nigh hand died of grief and shock!"

"I was not sure you would like the plan. You are a godlike man, terrible in your wrath. We thought that if nothing befell our chests, we would put the treasure back into them after leaving Tarsos."

"Oh, bless you both!" I cried, hugging and kissing them. "Little friends have surely proved great friends." I went to the cart with the money and counted out fifty drachmai for each. "Here, billies, do as you like with it. Though we're short of funds, I'll take this out of my own pay if I must."

"Too much," said Elisas. "You saved my life, so this is a small thing to do for you in return."

"Take it, and dispute me not, lest my normal thrift make itself felt again. Off with you!"

Some of the men overheard our talk and gathered to learn what was afoot. When they understood the stratagem of the sutler and the Kordian, they cheered them, too.

"It were fitting if you rewarded their quickness of wit out of your own purses," I told the Thessalians sternly. "Were it no for them, yesternight's folly had left us destitute."

Shamefaced, the Thessalians dug into their purses to add to the reward I had given. Some cursed Harpalos with all the vigor of old soldiers and uttered grandiose threats of vengeance against him.

Pyrron said: "Be thankful you've taken your head safely out of the wolf's mouth, as the wolf said to the crane in the fable. And now, an interesting question for speculation has just occurred to me. What will Harpalos do when he discovers that his men have brought him two chests full of earth?"

"By the Dog!" I cried. "I know not what he'll do, but I know what we'd better do, and smartly! Strike the tents! Tonight we shall march till we drop!"

Dusk closed down upon us as the road wound up through the foothills towards the defile called the Kilikian Gate. There was a clatter of hooves behind us and a hail. I rode back to see what was up. A rider was trying to reach the tail of our column, but his horse would not go near the elephant, and there was not enough room to pass around the beast. The man waved and shouted:

"In the name of Harpalos, treasurer of the empire, you are commanded on pain of death to return at once to Tarsos!"

I glanced back, caught Vardanas' eye, and made the motion of shooting. Vardanas' bowstring twanged. The man screeched and fell off his horse, which bolted.

"Hide this carrion," I said.

Inaudos and another camp man hauled the corpse to the mouth of a narrow ravine and tossed it behind a thicket.

"Now hasten!" I said. "We've gained a few hours by slaying that wight; let us see that we make good use of it! Get up!"

The ramparts of the Kilikian Gate closed in upon us. Crags of limestone loomed over us like the towers of some Kyklops' castle. There was scarce room for our carts and the elephant betwixt the cliff on one side and the swift cold stream that furrows the pass on the other. The roar of the river almost drowned the creaking of axles and the clatter of hooves. On our right rose the cliff face where an inscription tells of Alexander's passage through the gate on his way to Issos, but it was too dark to read the writing.

We made another sixty or seventy furlongs ere we halted again. We not only suffered great fatigue but also feared, in the darkness of the gorge, to stray off the road into the river.

The next day we pushed on, with no further sign of pursuit from Tarsos. The gorge broadened into a vale of tamarisks, on both sides of which rose the steep slopes of the Taurus, clad in somber forests of oak and fir. Although the footing became easier, it now began to rain.

We struggled on, but the rain turned to snow. Kanadas said: "Must stop, Troop Leader."

"Why?" I asked.

"Elephant get cold, die. Must make fire to warm him."

"We dare not start a fire here!" I said. "Between Harpalos' men behind and Arivarates' men before, we're in peril every moment on this road."

"No, no, must have fire! Otherwise elephant freeze feet, die! What is use of all this work and travel if my beautiful Mahankal die?" The Indian began to weep.

"A plague upon it!" I said. "Very well; let us begin to look for a sheltered spot."

I peered ahead into the grayness. As there was no wind, and the snow was damp, every feathery frond of the tamarisks was coated with white. Within another furlong we found a little vale where a brook came in from the side. A naked crag, leaning out over this dell, provided some shelter. Soon we had a small fire blazing, whilst melting snow made puddles all around us.

"I like it not," I said to Thyestes. "We sudna stop nor light a fire till we're past Tyana."

"I thinks 'tis safe," he said. "Seldom maun Arivarates' men come so far south. And 'twould take a gey forcible officer to gar his men go plowing athort the country on sic a day!"

As Thyestes usually insisted on more care against possible foemen than the rest of us thought needful, I cast off my forebodings and rode out with Vardanas and the Dahas to set up mounted pickets.

But, to the man in fear, everything rustles. My heart all but leapt from my mouth when there came a crashing of feet and a flurry of snow. A spotted deer, fleeing for its life, almost blundered into us, scrambled for its footing, recovered, and started off in a new direction. With the speed of lightning, Spargapithas whipped his Sakan bow from its case and let fly. The deer fell dead.

Just then a leopard, shaggy in its winter coat, bounded towards us. I suppose the snow had deadened our sound and scent so that the beast, intent on its quarry, was unaware of us. Our horses snorted and reared. Seeing us at last, the leopard slid to a stop, gave a spitting snarl, and scampered off. Spargapithas loosed a second shaft but missed. He cursed in Sakan as he searched for his arrow.

Vardanas said: "He fears we will take the deer back to camp and eat it before his watch be over."

"Tell him to worry not," I said. "We'll not touch tooth to it ere he come."

We took the deer back to camp, where the men received it with cheers, despite their dank condition, and helped to skin the beast. I told the cook:

"Stand back, fellow; this is one nice piece of flesh I'll not have spoilt."

I prepared to roast the deer myself, heedless of loss of dignity. The snow kept falling. The wind rose and the air grew colder. Aias squealed and grumbled unhappily. Kanadas, feeding his pet's insatiable maw with hay, said:

"Must rig tent, Troop Leader, to keep cold wind off him. Blanket not enough."

I told Thyestes to work on that. For hours the men cut poles, pinned tent cloths together, and wrestled with ropes. Twice they had the contraption nearly up when it fell down. Aias moaned and gurgled sadly. Meanwhile I cooked the deer.

It was late afternoon when the elephant tent was rigged at last. It formed a covering over Aias' back and one side, while the crag protected his other side. Alas! We no sooner got the tent up, the last rope tied, and the last peg driven, when Aias gave a playful tug with his trunk. Down came the tent in a heap.

Thyestes smote his thigh. "Furies take the great stirk!" he shouted. "Gin he want it back up, let him put it up hissel!"

The Indians scolded the elephant, who hung his head and drooped his eyelids in shame. Nirouphar talked to him, explaining the error of his ways and patting his rough leathery trunk, until he was cheered up again. Then it was not hard to put the tent back up a second time.

The light faded; the deer was done. The cook was making ready to serve it when a sentry said: "Troop Leader! Here comes our picket!"

Spargapithas rode in and dismounted. Vardanas said: "He says you forgot to relieve him."

It was true; between the elephant tent and the deer, I had left the Daha out longer than I meant to. On the other hand, he ought not to have left his post while he still could stand. I began a terrific scolding, with Vardanas translating.

"He smelt the deer," said Vardanas, "and feared you had broken your word not to eat it before he arrived."

I cut off a piece and gave it to Madouas, whose turn at picket duty it now was. "Eat this on your guard," I said.

The Daha was mounting his horse when a sentry yelled. Ere we could reach for our weapons, a swarm of armed men sprang out of the earth, it seemed, and rushed upon us.

They were Kappadokian hillmen, clad in loose trousers, high boots, and sheepskin coats, with felt hats or fur caps on their heads. They bore bows and spears; a few had shields or helmets. There were at least a hundred.

Never was a surprise attack more skillfully planned or more adroitly carried out. They had crept up from two directions, hiding behind knolls and crags, until a sudden rush brought them breast to breast with us in a few heartbeats.

A man who ran with the rest, but fell behind because he was weighed down by a coat of scale mail, called out: "Yield!"

Some of my men, who had grasped swords or javelins, cast them down. Thyestes, on the other hand, drew his sword, shouted, "Eleleleu!" and ran towards the leader. Perhaps he was being heroic. But, without wishing to cast any slight on his memory, I think he merely did the first thing that came to his mind, as men will when surprised.

Ere I could move, bows twanged and javelins flew. One arrow, shot at close range, drove through Thyestes' canvas corselet. Such was the force of the shaft that the cruel point pierced through his body and out the other side. Another arrow struck his neck and a javelin his leg, but the body wound was the one that did for him. He staggered and fell, his sword flying out of his hand. Behind me a slave cried out as another arrow, missing Thyestes, wounded him in the thigh.

Taken unawares and outnumbered five to one, the rest of my men cast down their arms. I followed their example, seeing no advantage in adding my death to Thyestes'.

"Who is the leader?" said the armored man in good if accented Attic.

"Leon of Atrax, troop leader for King Alexander and commander of this hipparchia. Pray, sir, who are you?"

"Arivarates son of King Arivarates of Katpatouka," said the Kappadokian. Pie was a young man, his beard a mere down. "What is your mission?"

"If you'll let us take down yonder tent, you will see."

"Stand still."

Arivarates the younger motioned to a couple of his men, who cut the ropes holding up the elephant tent. Down fell the tent. The men who had cut the ropes leapt back with yells of terror at the sight of Aias. The other Kappadokians wavered.

Now was the time, had we been ready, to have seized our arms and set upon these foreigners, whilst the Indians drove the elephant at them. I looked around, but none of the Thessalians met my eye. All sat or stood with hanging heads, in that dazed state of shame and wretchedness that seizes a man first captured; for everybody knows that in four cases out of five, capture means lifelong slavery.

Ere I could form a plan, Arivarates shouted in his own, tongue. The Kappadokians rallied. Several bows were trained upon my midriff.

"Hold still, all," said Arivarates. He strolled forward and looked up at the elephant. "For the love of Ma! I have heard my father tell of seeing these beasts at Dareios' court, but this is the first one I have seen with my own eyes." He turned upon me and said in stern notes: "A mighty reinforcement for that all-daring knave Antigonos!"

"Nay," I said. "This is but a peaceful scientific expedition."

"How so?"

I told the Kappadokian prince the tale of our mission. When I had finished, he said: "A fetching tale, could one but credit it. However, it is my father's place to decide what shall be done with you. You must come to Mazaka."

"Where is that?"

"Forty leagues hence."

"Herakles! That's no afternoon's stroll."

"There is no help for it. Gather your gear and ready yourselves to march. You will have to walk."

"At least let us take care of our comrade," I said, pointing to Thyestes.

"Then be quick."

I hastened to Thyestes. As I thought, he was dead. We buried him on the spot, and Pyrron preached a short eulogy on the Poet's text:

We all wept, though many of the Thessalians had not liked Thyestes because of his strictness and rough ways. Some had even held his base birth against him, resenting, as they put it, "being ordered about by one who is no better than we are."

As for me, I felt lost without him. He was a simple soldier, with neither Vardanas' charm nor Pyrron's wisdom. He had his faults, being lustful and sometimes cruel. But he was brave and trusty and hardy, with a good practical mind for military matters, virtues sorely needed in an enterprise like ours.

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