Their interpreter stepped forward. He looked sheepish, and they spoke among themselves for a moment.
‘How big was the dead man’s family?’ Melitta asked in Sakje, and the translator put the question to the two merchants in Greek.
‘No doubt she’ll use the size of his family to assess the total value of the judgement,’ muttered one merchant. Greek was not his first language, either.
‘So make it big. Eight children,’ said the other merchant.
‘Lady, the merchant says eight children,’ the interpreter said. ‘That’s what he told me to say, lady,’ the man added.
‘Ask him if he knows the family well,’ Melitta said.
‘Now what do I say?’ asked the second merchant. His Greek was better. ‘If I say I don’t know them-’
Melitta leaned forward and pointed her sword at the second merchant. ‘You could just tell the truth,’ she said in Greek.
Gaweint, one of her knights, and the one whose Greek was best, translated this sally for the audience, who roared with appreciative laughter.
The merchants glared around.
‘Come forward. Talk to me,’ Melitta said. ‘How many children did the man have?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted the merchant. ‘He only worked for me this one trip.’
‘And if I give you horses, will any of them go to his wife and children? Where was he from?’
‘Far, my lady, by the great salt-’
‘Spare me, Syrian. I grew up in Alexandria and I’ve ridden a black-hulled ship into every port on the Syrian coast.’ She laughed at their discomfiture. ‘You people need to do more research before you come to the Sea of Grass. Now, no horse shit — do you even know where he’s from?’
‘No,’ admitted the Aramaic merchant. He shrugged expressively. ‘No. But that shouldn’t mean your man gets off free.’
‘How much merchandise did the man lose? Really lose?’ Melitta asked.
‘About ten good horses’ worth,’ the merchants admitted, after a whispered discussion.
Melitta nodded. ‘Kairax, step forward. Here is my judgement. Each of these two,’ she pointed at the two Cruel Hands tribesmen, ‘will give five good horses to these merchants. Yes?’
Both men nodded, although the bigger man — the poorer — grew pale.
‘Drakas will pay ten horses each to me and to Kairax for his breach of the lady’s peace.’ She looked at Drakas.
He jumped forward. ‘Where is the fairness in that, lady? Alkaix here did the same as me-’
‘You struck the killing blow and you, the nobleman, led him into this crime. Did you not?’ she asked.
Drakas mumbled something.
‘Twenty horses will not break you, Drakas. But it ought to remind you to keep your temper in check.’ She motioned him forward. He came to her side, and she gestured for him to kneel so that she could speak into his ear.
‘You desire to be treated as a nobleman, do you not?’ she asked.
Drakas nodded. ‘I have-’
‘Spare me. What do you have for armour?’
Drakas shrugged. ‘A good helmet.’
‘Noble status cuts both ways. Arm five men as knights, mount them yourself and bring them to me, and I will see to it that Kairax grants you your due. See to it that one of them is your friend here. Otherwise shut up and obey your betters.’
‘Yes, lady!’ he said.
‘Anything further?’ she asked of the assembly when Drakas had backed away.
Silence reigned.
‘I have spoken my will. Will you see it carried out?’ she asked the assembly.
Men — and women — nodded. Many voices were raised in assent. Kairax gave her a nod. Scopasis gazed at her with adoration.
She felt a certain satisfaction. Giving justice well was a good job.
‘Next,’ she said.
Scopasis stepped up. ‘Astis daughter of Laxan the farmer requests that the lady and Lord Thyrsis help her achieve revenge.’
Astis was a strong-looking woman with a square face and blond-brown hair. Her nose had been recently broken and her eyes had the look that hunted animals and damaged people hold. But she stood erect in front of the assembly of the people in a good Parsi coat of blue wool and deerskin trousers.
‘Who speaks with her?’ Scopasis asked.
Thyrsis stepped forward. Melitta thought of Thyrsis as the Achilles of the Assagetae. His father, Ataelus, had been her father’s right hand on the plains, his chief scout and a hero of every battle he’d ever fought. After her father’s death, Ataelus had served her mother. When she was murdered, he’d held the high plains to the east against the Sauromatae in a six-year campaign of raid and counter-raid. In the process he’d built a mighty clan out of broken men and outlaws from both sides of the Assagetae-Sauromatae divide. Thyrsis was already a famous warrior — handsome, tall and utterly honest; loyal, strong in battle, clever in council. Too good to be true, really.
Both of his parents had died preserving her kingdom; his mother in the battle, his father shortly after, and he had a special call on her attention. Many Assagetae felt that she should marry him.
He and Scopasis hated each other, but both adored her.
They glared at each other for a long moment.
Melitta laughed. ‘Hey, stallions!’ Melitta called. ‘The mare is waiting.’
That got a roar of approval from the crowd.
Thyrsis stepped forward. ‘Lady, this woman is the daughter of Laxan, who served with the archers at the Battle of the Tanais. I have this word from the smith, Temerix, on her behalf. Her people settled the upper Tanais high ground, east of the Temple of the Hunting Goddess, and her father’s father held land by Crax’s fort.’
Melitta nodded to the woman. ‘You are welcome, and doubly welcome for the service of your father.’
‘Thank you, lady. Temerix and Thyrsis both say you are the Lady of the Dirt People as well as the Sky People, and I pray this is true.’ Her eyes were slightly mad, and there was something flawed in her voice, as if she was afraid to talk and afraid to be silent.
‘I am here,’ Temerix said. He was a giant of a man, his shoulders as broad as the full length of a child, his arms heavy with muscle like the roots of a strong oak. He was a master smith, and his best work could rival that of the Aegyptian smith-priests or the best ironsmiths of Chaldike or Heraklea. He was another fixture of Melitta’s childhood, having served her father.
This no-account Dirt People woman had two powerful advocates. That was interesting.
‘Speak, daughter of Laxan.’ Melitta smiled at her, trying to disarm the tension in her shoulders and the fear in her face.
‘Lady, raiders came to our farm and killed my family.’ She laughed — a terrible sound. ‘They took me and my sisters. I lived with them — almost a year.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Last autumn I took a horse and rode away. I would not be one of them. I ask that you. . ride against them.’
The broken nose and the odd motions of her face told that this was a woman who had been beaten — many times. ‘Who are they?’ Melitta asked.
‘Sauromatae?’ asked Scopasis. The Sauromatae had become the enemies of the Assagetae, but it had been three years since their defeat and now many of the beaten tribesmen had simply moved into the tribes of the victorious — as was always the way on the plains. Many of the men and women gathered around the assembly were Sauromatae, but they were no longer the ‘people of Upazan’, the leader who had ridden to defeat and death. Now they were her own people. Scopasis’ failure to understand these things was one of the reasons he could never be her consort.
‘They were not Sauromatae,’ Astis said. She gave her curious laugh again. ‘In the year of the War, Sauromatae came and burned our farm and my father took us and led us into the woods. I killed a Sauromatae. I know what a Sauromatae looks like. I know a Sauromatae horse from an Assagetae horse, although I am a farmer.’
That provoked a growl from the assembly.
‘What clan would dare to breach the peace and kill your father?’ Melitta asked. This is bad, she thought, and inwardly she cursed Scopasis for not bringing her this in private — and Thyrsis for not bringing the matter to her attention before the assembly. If one of the clans had done this. . so much for her pleasant spring progress.