‘Garait — for kissing this woman,’ Ataelus said. ‘Derva of the Sauromatae? You know her?’
Kineas shook his head, caught in ignorance of his troops. ‘No,’ he said.
Ataelus shook his head in turn. ‘Derva was paradatam to Aurvant of the Sauromatae. But she was kissing Garait.’ He shrugged and winced, as the wound in his shoulder hurt him. ‘So Aurvant is for going to Upazan, who is his chief.’
Srayanka came up behind her husband and put her hands on her hips. ‘Not a good story, Ataelus,’ she said in Sakje.
He bowed his head, but said, ‘These young people are my people. Derva has denied her paradatam for the required number of days.’
‘And then what happened?’ Kineas asked.
Ataelus frowned. ‘Upazan and Garait for shouting,’ he said in Greek. He met Kineas’s eye. ‘Upazan hits Garait, and Leon hits Upazan. Upazan draws a sword. Cuts at Garait. I step in to stop foolish boy-talk and get this.’ He gestured with shame at his wound. His bow arm was in a sling.
‘What does Leon have to do with this?’ Kineas asked, his temper fraying.
Srayanka’s eyes narrowed fractionally and she shook her head. ‘Leon loves Mosva of the Sauromatae.’
‘I know that!’ Kineas said.
‘So does Upazan,’ Srayanka said, as she would speak to a not-very-bright child. ‘What do you want, Ataelus?’
‘I ask for killing Upazan,’ Ataelus said formally at the end of his testimony. ‘Man to man and horse to horse.’
Kineas looked at Srayanka, who simply shook her head. ‘Am I your queen, Ataelus?’ she asked.
Ataelus looked back and forth between Kineas and Srayanka. He had always made a point of his status as a Massagetae, not a Sakje. A visitor, not a subject. But he was thoroughly Kineas’s man — Kineas had made him. This, too, was Scythian politics.
The day was hot, but there was an edge of something on the wind and lightning flashed out over the desert. Kineas leaned forward to speak, but Srayanka put a hand on his shoulder to stay him.
Ataelus made a mute appeal to Kineas, and getting no response, he said, ‘Yes.’
‘Really? You are Sakje?’ She was relentless.
‘Yes,’ said Ataelus.
Srayanka flashed a smile at Kineas. ‘As he has declared himself to us, he is subject to our justice.’ She nodded. ‘It would be bad manners to allow you to fight Lot’s sister’s son. Bring me this Garait.’
Garait was brought forward, his braids carefully plaited, in his best tunic.
‘How many horses do you have, Garait?’ Srayanka asked.
‘I have twenty horses of my own,’ he answered in Sakje, but his pride was audible to every person in the tent. Twenty was an excellent score for a man so young, but of course he had had two years of war to collect them. ‘No ponies. No horses-for-meat. Twelve Thessalians, tall and strong. Four Getae ponies fit for any work. Four of our own horses for riding.’
Srayanka nodded. ‘And what is Derva’s bride price?’
Garait shrugged. ‘I do not know,’ he said.
Srayanka looked at Kineas. ‘You trust me to handle this?’ she asked him in Greek.
‘You do know the customs better than I,’ Kineas said.
‘I will speak to Prince Lot. In the meantime,’ she turned back to Garait, ‘you are forbidden to be within twenty horse-lengths of her. You may not speak to Upazan, nor accept or deliver a challenge. In every case, you will refer him to me.’
‘Yes, lady.’ Garait nodded, the equivalent of a deep bow among Persians. Then she summoned Leon, who was suspiciously close by, and also very clean and in his best tunic. He looked as if he had a major bruise forming around his left eye, his dark skin almost purple in the sun.
‘Do you intend to wed Mosva?’ she asked.
The black man nodded gravely. ‘If she’ll have me,’ he said.
‘Arrange a bride price and pay it,’ she said. ‘And be quick about it. Your flirtation is hurting us, Leon.’
Leon smiled. ‘I’m not usually slow to close a deal,’ he said. ‘I had only thought to wait until the campaign was over.’
‘Listen, Numidian, if I were to offer you advice, I’d say this. Learn her bride price tonight. Make talk with Lot — ask obliquely. Buy the horses you need and picket them with his herd, and steal Mosva from her tent and put her in yours. Do it now.’
Leon bowed. ‘I live to serve you, lady,’ he said.
But Srayanka looked troubled.
When they were gone, Kineas turned to Diodorus. ‘This is what comes of too much time idle. I want more patrols, south towards Alexander and east along our march route. And a scout — not Ataelus, he’s hurt — east, looking for waterholes and fodder. We need to move.’
Diodorus scratched under his beard — a beard that was showing a surprising number of grey hairs. ‘You know that we bumped into some of Alexander’s scouts three days back, down by the Oxus.’
Kineas had heard as much in the last rush of feast preparations. The encounter had been two days’ ride to the south — not close enough to threaten his camp, but close enough to get his attention. ‘I know. Get the scouts out. Most of our wounded are able to ride. I’d like to be out of this camp in two days.’
Diodorus nodded. ‘Can’t be too soon.’
Diodorus and Parshtaevalt organized a string of running patrols well to the south, covering a crescent of possible approaches between the Macedonians, the Persians and their camp. With the help of Lot’s Sauromatae, they had plenty of warriors to cover the patrols and the rotation helped relieve the punishing toll of ten thousand horses on the local grass, as well as the boredom. Kineas and Lot and Srayanka had much to arrange before they could make the final push over the Sogdian desert to join the Scythian muster.
The next day, Diodorus and Ataelus pushed the eastern patrols out farther, clearing their route to their next fixed camp. They needed grass and water and a path free of enemies. It took a great deal of scouting.
On the second day after the feast, Kineas summoned the officers and clan leaders to council in the cool of the afternoon. Then he sat with Leon, calculating supplies and fodder, and getting answers he did not like.
Diodorus arrived in camp at midday, well before he was expected. He had a patrol of Olbians — his own troop, with twenty iron-faced Keltoi surrounding a group of dusty riders who appeared at first to be prisoners. Kineas began to approach and Diodorus waved him off, so Kineas went to the shade of the felt awning projecting from the rear of Srayanka’s wagon and poured himself a little wine. He poured more for Diodorus as he came in.
‘This will cut the dust,’ Kineas said.
‘I’m bringing trouble,’ Diodorus said. ‘Did you see who I brought in?’
‘Upazan?’ Kineas said.
‘The very same. Riding south with a war party. Not in our scout rotation. And frankly, he needs a hiding. He’s a bully and he’s bad for the discipline we’ve built among the Sakje.’
Kineas shrugged. ‘Bring him.’
He sent Samahe for Srayanka. She came with both children and Sappho, and they all took seats on the carpets of the tent. By the time they were settled, Upazan was brought in.
He stood straight. His face had the natural sullenness of the adolescent, more out of place on an adult. He wore a magnificent coat of bronze scales plated in gold, and wore a golden boar atop his gold-covered bronze helmet.
Kineas nodded. ‘I greet you, Upazan. May I serve you wine?’
‘I want no wine,’ Upazan said. ‘I want to ride free. Blood will flow for this insult.’
Kineas nodded and turned to Leon. ‘Send Sitalkes for Prince Lot, with my respectful wish that he will come and help me deal with Upazan.’
Leon nodded and left.
Turning to Upazan, Kineas shrugged. ‘You spurn my courtesy, so I will waste no more time on it. You left camp without permission-’