"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!