Storm of arrows

27

‘ So this party of mixed Greeks and Scythians just let you go. ’ Hephaestion was beginning to see Ptolemy as a competitor, and in his creed competitors needed to be destroyed.

Ptolemy was struggling not to lose his nerve or his temper. In his detached, commander’s brain, he wondered that a man could be afraid and enraged at the same time. The Poet always said that one drove out the other.

The Poet had never been to Sogdiana. ‘The Greeks made sure of it,’ he said. ‘There was a Spartan mercenary. He rode me clear of their lines.’

Alexander, far from being angry, seemed pleased. ‘So the Sakje barbarians have some Greek allies,’ he said. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘That makes it more of a fight, don’t you think?’

Hephaestion wasn’t through yet. ‘It might, if you believed this halfarsed story.’

Alexander looked at his closest companion with a certain scepticism. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do Sogdians take prisoners?’

‘No,’ said Hephaestion. ‘Of course not.’

‘Dahae? Sakje? Massagetae?’ Alexander was just like his tutor when he bored in on an argument. He was at his most annoyingly superior, but since the focus of his superiority was on Hephaestion and not him, Ptolemy was prepared to watch.

‘No,’ said Hephaestion, now surly as he understood the point being made.

‘Exactly. If his story was false, he wouldn’t be here. So Craterus lost, what, seventy Sogdians?’ Alexander snapped his fingers and received a cup of wine. Another cup was offered to Ptolemy, while Alexander shared his with Hephaestion.

Ptolemy nodded. ‘More like a hundred, lord.’

Alexander rolled the wine in his cup before he raised his eyes. ‘Craterus needs to be replaced.’

Ptolemy shook his head. ‘Who could have expected a trained commander in this wilderness? Or an enemy who could make three direction changes inside a few stades?’

Alexander’s steady and mismatched gaze didn’t waver.

So much for Craterus, Ptolemy thought.

‘Will you take command of the Sogdian cavalry?’ Alexander asked.

‘No,’ Ptolemy said, without a moment’s thought. ‘I would like to go back to commanding my taxeis.’

‘Very well,’ Alexander said. His annoyance was plain — blood rushed to his face. ‘Go back to foot-slogging with my compliments on your report.’ He made a hand motion that indicated dismissal. Ptolemy gave a brief bow — a sketchy compromise between a Macedonian head nod and a Persian bow — and withdrew.

As he left, Alexander turned to Hephaestion. ‘This Greek mercenary has hurt us several times. I can’t believe he’s a Spartan — they have no head for cavalry. Agesilaus was the exception, not the rule.’

Hephaestion was pouting. ‘Xenophon was a Spartan,’ he said.

Alexander laughed. ‘What did you do while I went to my tutor?’ he asked. ‘Xenophon was an Athenian.’

Hephaestion knocked back his wine and shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I want to command the Sogdians.’

Alexander looked at him fondly. ‘You command my Companions,’ he said.

‘You need a soldier of proven worth to lead the Sogdians and stop the defeats we’ve taken in the little fights along the Oxus.’ Hephaestion raised his head.

Alexander met his eyes, put a hand on his head and ruffled his bronze curls. ‘It is not a job worthy of you,’ he said.

Hephaestion shrugged off his hand. ‘I want it.’

Alexander shrugged and turned his back. ‘No,’ he said.

‘I want-’ Hephaestion began.

‘No,’ Alexander said, in a tone of command. ‘Fetch Eumenes for me, please.’

Hephaestion stomped out of the tent and Eumenes came in alone. ‘Great King?’ he asked after an obeisance.

‘I need a cavalry commander to cover the movement on the Jaxartes. Who is it to be?’

Eumenes shrugged. ‘I thought Craterus had that job?’ he asked.

Alexander’s eyes bored into the Cardian’s, but Eumenes held his ground, not giving a hint that he already knew what had happened. After a moment, Alexander shook his head. ‘Craterus got beaten,’ he said.

‘I’ll do it,’ Eumenes said. His tone suggested that he didn’t want to do it.

‘Set a Greek to catch a Greek?’ Alexander said. ‘My thought exactly. There’s a Greek mercenary operating with Spitamenes. Take the Sogdians, a squadron of the mercenary horse and whatever foot you think will help and get him. He seems to have about four hundred horse. Perhaps twice that.’

Eumenes nodded. ‘Where is he now?’

Alexander had a rough sketch of Sogdiana on his camp table, although it showed nothing but towns, rivers and mountains. And even then, most of the distances were guesswork, even after a year’s campaigning. ‘Up where the Polytimeros meets the Sogdian mountains. He’ll be on the north bank of the Polytimeros, shadowing us.’

Eumenes looked at the map. ‘If he’s on the Polytimeros, we’ll catch him against the northern wall of the valley.’

‘Exactly,’ Alexander said. He glanced out of the door of his tent — checking for Hephaestion, no doubt. ‘If he was smart enough to beat Craterus, he’ll be smart enough to avoid getting trapped.’

‘If he’s not on the Polytimeros?’ Eumenes asked.

‘Track him. But mostly, keep him — and Spitamenes — off me while I manoeuvre. I have thirty thousand men to concentrate on the Jaxartes, and if one of these bandits gets into my rear-’ He shrugged. Morale among the Macedonians was low. They weren’t likely to desert or fight poorly, but mutiny was always possible when they felt hard done by. Both men knew it. They would march for ever without wine or oil — when they were happy.

‘So you’re going to the Jaxartes?’ Eumenes asked. He’d heard rumours, but armies were full of rumours.

‘Now. I’ve already started some of the troops in motion. I need to beat the Massagetae before they join hands with Spitamenes and make themselves a nuisance.’

Eumenes nodded. ‘The Massagetae have made no move to attack us,’ he said.

‘Except to send their men to harass our outposts and loaning horsemen to Spitamenes.’ Alexander’s tone was commanding. ‘When I beat them, Spitamenes will fold.’

Eumenes hadn’t risen to power with the king by cowardice. ‘I disagree, lord. Spitamenes will fold anyway. We have no need to fight the Massagetae. In fact, a message acknowledging their ownership of the sea of grass would probably end their campaign.’

‘Should I offer to pay them tribute, too?’ Alexander asked. His voice was very quiet.

Eumenes nodded slowly. ‘Very well, lord,’ he said. ‘Your mind is set.’

‘It is. Go and punish this Greek. Recruit the survivors and rejoin me. I won’t move to fight this Zarina for twenty days.’

‘Hephaestion wants this command,’ Eumenes said — not because he had any love of the king’s companion, but because he absolutely did not want to go chasing a wily Greek with Sakje allies on the sea of grass.

Alexander nodded. ‘I love Hephaestion with all my soul,’ he said, ‘but he is not suited for independent command. And if I ever hear that you repeated those words…’

Eumenes cast his eyes down to hide the gleam that must be there. Ahh! he thought. Now the game is worth playing. ‘I’ll catch this Greek, then,’ Eumenes said. ‘Perhaps I’ll bring you an Amazon, as well.’

Alexander sighed. ‘I liked the one I had,’ he said. ‘Even gravid, she had a presence. And her eyes!’ Alexander laughed. ‘Why do I tell you these things, Eumenes?’

Because you can’t tell Hephaestion, Eumenes thought with satisfaction.

Alexander stopped him at the door of his tent. ‘Take the savage. What’s his name? Urgargar?’

‘Upazan, lord?’

‘That one. He knows the country and he has a good hate in him. Let him focus it in our service.’ The king sat back and drank a little more wine.