"This filthy savage," said Vardanas, "was about to relieve himself in the river!"
"What difference, you stupid foreigner?" screamed Barmoukas. "It will all be washed away. Are you mad?"
"Rivers are sacred!" yelled Vardanas. "It is an offense against the gods to defile one!"
"Go on up the bank, well away from the river," I said to Barmoukas. Then I said to Vardanas: "Next time, be not so hasty to berate these fellows without speaking first to me."
The quarrel passed over, but thereafter Barmoukas' mien became sullen and sorrowful. At length I inquired:
"What ails you, man?"
"Working for a wage that would shame a slave," he said. "I am poor! I have three wives to support! I must have more money!"
I sighed and said to Thyestes: "Oblige me by fetching a mule whip. I have a beating to give."
"No! No!" cried Barmoukas. "I did but jest."
Next day he again began hinting at higher pay. I silenced him with an oath.
The day following he did it again. I dealt him a buffet that hurled him from his seat. He dragged himself back on his horse looking like Ious, the chief Gandarian demon, in an evil mood. Thereafter he muttered and scowled but said no more of a greater stipend.
The next day, when the sun was sinking behind the Indian Caucasus, we came to a town on a rocky shoulder that rises a plethron and a half from the side of the Arachotos. As with most cities in this land, the houses were arranged in an oblong, placed side by side so their mud-and-timber outer walls formed a continuous barrier, unpierced save by the gates and by loopholes. Two wooden spy towers rose from opposite corners of the oblong. The place looked like a hard one to take. I said to the guide:
"Is that not Haravatis?"
"It is," he said.
This, then, was the former capital of Arachotia under the Persians, who called both the province and its chief city Haravatis. As I use the Greek form for the province, I shall use the Persian word for the city to keep them distinct.
When we had crossed a small tributary, we met three women with water jars on their heads, coming down the path from the town on their way to the river. They stepped off the road to let us pass and stood, havering and pointing, until the elephant appeared around the shoulder. Then they dropped their pots and ran screaming back up the road to Haravatis.
"Come," I said to Barmoukas, and spurred after them. As I arrived at the top of the slope, before the front gate of the town, the whole population boiled out like bees from a hive. They began to crowd out the back gate and run for the hills.
One oldster with a missing foot could not keep up with the rest, though he hobbled along at a lively pace on his crutch. I rode after the throng out the rear gate and drew up before the cripple.
"Tell him to stop," I said. "Tell him we mean him no harm and will pay for food and fodder."
They talked. Barmoukas said: "They fear the great gray beast with two tails."
I bethought me that we were getting into lands that had seldom seen elephants. "The animal is harmless," I said. "We will pay those who gather straw and leaves to feed him."
I calmed the old man's fears by handing him a copper. Barmoukas said: "They would not have run had not most of their men been away on a raid."
"Tell him to fetch his folk back," I said, for I could see the heads of the Haravatians peeping out from behind rocks and shrubs.
The man stumped off. An hour later the townsfolk straggled back. Soon they began bringing fodder to Aias. At first they were almost reluctant to take their pay. Methinks they had never known an official to use them thus and feared some trick. Once they grasped the idea, however, they began shouting for more. The most exasperating thing about the Arachotians was that they were not used to coined money. Amongst themselves they trade by barter or by weighing out lumps of metal. Therefore, they insisted on weighing every coin. This in turn led to sharp disputes over scales and weights, further embittered by the fact that we could not speak directly to one another.
We had just settled ourselves when a new alarum arose. Shouts heralded the return of the raiders, trailing down the valley of the tributary in single file in the dusk. As they drew near, a great wailing and keening arose. I learned that fifty men had gone up the valley to raid another village, but they had been ambushed and lost three men without getting any loot. This return was hence a tragic occasion.
Soon the whole town was aboil. The kin of the slain men capered, screamed, beat their breasts, tore their hair, and banged their heads against the wall. The rest of the people shuffled and stamped in a war dance, crying on Gis for vengeance. Barmoukas said:
"The outas—what you call priest—says the funeral will be tonight. You stay; very interesting."
I was doubtful of this, as the Haravatians seemed a scowling, unfriendly lot. But Barmoukas urged me, and I thought it unwise to show any fear of these folk. Also, I have enough of the true traveler's spirit so that I hate to miss any kind of show, even at my own peril.
"I shall be back after dinner," I said, and went off to the camp for a meal of bread and roast goat.
An hour later I came back to Haravatis with most of my party. We took places around the edge of the market place and watched. It was nearly dark, with no moon. A small bonfire blazed. The outas orated and gestured in front of a platform on which stood three round things the size of melons. When my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I saw they were human heads. Barmoukas explained:
"No, not heads of enemy, but of men of this city who were killed. When raiders cannot bring back the whole body, they fetch head for funeral."
The outas, weeping, made an endless speech extolling the virtues of the dead. Presently the whole town began dancing around the square, weeping, chanting, and posturing to the tap of a set of tiny drums and some reed pipes that gave two or three feeble notes. The people had smeared dirt on their faces and donned their most ragged garments. The women, wearing horned caps bedight with beads and bits of bronze, danced in a separate circle.
I began to feel that all was not going well. As they passed, dancers slowed down to glower at me, as if to mark me for trouble. A few shouted in menacing tones. I sidled around the square till I found Thyestes and told him of my feeling.
"By Zeus, 'tis the same with me, Leon," he said. "Something's agley. Yon brandlings do but wait a signal to assail us."
"Then take the lads, one at a time, and tell them to slip back to camp and arm."
Thyestes moved slowly round the square, whispering in each man's ear. One by one the men faded away.
There were but a few left when the outas suddenly pointed at me and screamed: "O-o-or!"
With deafening yells of "I-i-iamash!" the townsfolk rushed upon me. I drew my sword but, before I could strike, they seized my arms. I went down under a press of bodies.
I kicked and punched and bit, but the Haravatians fastened on each of my limbs like leeches. When the crowd opened out again, they dragged me towards the central fire. They had seized two other Thessalians, while a third lay on the ground. Those not holding me tried to kick or strike me but got in each other's way. Hence they delivered but few solid blows.
Putting forth all my strength, I jerked my right arm free and knocked over one of my captors with a hammer blow of my fist. The others loosened their grip long enough for me to kick myself loose. For an instant I was almost free. I shouted: "Ē! Thessalians!" ere I went down again.
Then screams of fear arose all around, mingled with Thessalian cries of "Iai! Eleleleu!" The townsfolk dropped and trampled me as they fled in many directions. In a trice the square was clear but for corpses.