‘Athena protect us,’ he said grimly. He rode back to his officers. ‘Go among your men. Select all the veterans and send them to me.’
‘You’ll weaken the files,’ Niceas said.
‘I don’t think the files will fight. I need to survive the next hour.’ Kineas was looking through the rain at the last hill, where he hoped his scouts were watching his back trail.
Niceas shook his head. ‘Don’t do it.’
A day of absolute authority had its cost. ‘Obey!’ Kineas demanded.
Leucon shook his head — sombre, but sure. ‘They’ll fight, Hipparch. You just have to say something — they’re scared. Ares’ balls, sir, I’m scared too. I–I thought we’d have a rest.’
Kineas mastered his anger and turned his attention to Niceas. ‘Speak your mind, hyperetes.’
‘Don’t pull the veterans. Give ’em a talk, we lighten up a little, show them some respect, and they’ll fight like heroes.’
Kineas rubbed his jaw, watching a cart begin to cross, pulled with ropes by men waist deep in muddy water. ‘Think that’ll work?’
‘Worked on you, once or twice,’ Niceas said. ‘Pull the veterans and they’ll think you don’t trust them.’
Kineas smiled — his first smile in a day. ‘I’ll try it,’ he said. ‘Sound: Form line.’
Despite fatigue and rain, the two troops formed line on their tired horses like soldiers. Some men did it without raising their heads.
Kineas rode out to the front of the line. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘So I’m pretty sure you’re all tired. I’ve driven you like a coach drives athletes, and you’ve come up to the mark every day. And now we’re at this Hades-damned stream, and I have to ask you for more.’
He pointed at their back trail. ‘There are two thousand Getae behind us, about an hour’s march away.’ He swung Srayanka’s whip over his head and pointed past them. ‘A day’s march that way is the king of the Sakje.’ I hope. ‘One more fight, and one more day on the trail, moving fast, and you can rest. And before you despair, gentlemen — you’ve fought three actions in three days. None of you are boys any more. Now you know what the animal looks like. Any man worthy of his father can stand in a big field on a sunny day and hold his piece of ground for an hour. But to be a real soldier, you have to find it in yourself to do it day after day, in the rain, in the desert, when you are tired and sore and when your dinner runs down your legs or when you have no food to eat at all.’ He pulled his helmet off and rode closer to the line. ‘We can get across this stream and back to the king — if you have the spirit to do it.’
Ajax raised his sword. ‘Apollo!’ he shouted.
The answering shout was not deafening — but neither was it hopeless. The troops gave three Apollos.
Kineas summoned his officers. ‘Have the men dismount and stand by their horses. Send the most junior files of each troop to help move the wagons. Let’s do this thing!’ He spoke in a different tone than he’d used all day — like an officer commanding veterans. He turned to Niceas. ‘You were right,’ he said.
Niceas shrugged. ‘It happens,’ he said. He watched young Clio leading two younger men in pushing at a wagon wheel, up to their waists in freezing water. ‘They don’t look so much like rich boys now.’
Twenty minutes later the last wagon was across and Ataelus returned at a gallop to report that the lead Getae band was in sight. Kineas looked at the sky — more rain — and the crossing. To Niceas, he said, ‘I think we’re going to do this.’
Niceas huddled in his cloak. ‘Did you doubt it, Hipparch?’
Kineas shook his head. ‘I did.’ He waved to Leucon. ‘Get your men across. Nicomedes, mount and cover them. The Getae are coming.’ Something tugged at his right foot, and he saw the blacksmith. ‘What?’ he said in Sakje.
The blacksmith pointed at the stand of small trees by the swollen river. ‘Die here,’ he said, pointing at himself. ‘You cross.’
Kineas wiped the water off his face. ‘No. No one will die here. Too much rain. Get across.’
The man planted his feet. ‘Die here.’
Kineas shook his head. He called for Ataelus. ‘Tell him it’s raining,’ he said. ‘Tell him that his bowstrings are wet, and he’ll be lucky to kill one Getae — and that it’ll be for nothing, because the Getae won’t want to push across against us. Not enough light left.’
Ataelus translated, speaking rapidly, using his hands more than he was wont, speaking, Kineas thought, with great emotion. Ataelus thought highly of the blacksmith.
The blacksmith finally nodded. He put his axe over his shoulder and walked to the ford, his friends falling in around him, and they followed Leucon’s men through the rising water.
Kineas rode up to Nicomedes. The Getae were still well distant, and the ford was clear. ‘Better cross,’ he said.
Nicomedes gave a tired smile. ‘You won’t have to tell me twice.’
The two Cruel Hand scouts were coming in, one galloping far to the north, the other far to the south. Both turned periodically and shot from the saddle, and Ataelus gave a yip and rode out to the front.
Nicomedes shook his head. ‘Does that change our plans?’
‘No,’ Kineas said. ‘Get across.’
He sat in the rain, watching the Sakje — just three of them — harrying the advancing Getae, who had few bows and none that would fire in the rain. One by one, the Sakje bowstrings became wet through, despite the best efforts of the Sakje warriors to keep them dry, but they each hit two or three men, slowing all the Getae for a few more minutes as the precious grey light slipped away to night. All three rode to the ford untouched. The Getae were just two stades away, clear despite the heavier rain and gathering gloom.
The four of them pushed into the heavy water. After ten steps, Kineas put his arms around his horse’s neck and allowed himself to float free from his saddle cloth, and then his horse — an ugly Getae beast, but strong as an ox — pushed up the far bank of earth, showering both of them in mud in the process of shaking like a dog.
The Sindi men were cutting poles — stakes, it turned out, and as Kineas wrung the water from his cloak and tried to get warm, he watched them pound the stakes into the soft earth at the side of the stream so that the ford was blocked with man-high spikes pointed at horse-chest height.
Kineas rode up to the officers. ‘The Getae are mad — they may try it anyway. If not, they’ll come an hour after the rain stops. We’ll hold them here. We won’t get better ground.’ To the blacksmith, he said, ‘Tell the people in the wagons that we move before dawn. We will abandon the wagons — every man and woman is to ride on the spare horses. No unloading, and leave the fires lit when we go.’ He looked at Ataelus. ‘Will the Getae fight at night?’
Ataelus shrugged with a sneer, as if the petty superstitions of the Getae were beneath his consideration.
Kineas looked around. ‘I want our scouts up and down stream ten stades, looking for another ford — if they find one, we leave. Half a troop on duty every watch — two hours a trick. Get a hot meal in them and then we’ll sleep in the open.’
‘In the mud?’ asked Eumenes.
‘That’s right. If you aren’t tired enough to sleep in the mud, you aren’t really tired. Leucon’s boys know how to huddle up. Tell them to teach their fathers. Right — we move before dawn. Any questions?’
There were none. Nicomedes was almost asleep in his saddle.
The slaves and the Sindi cooked faster and better than the Olbians, and they had hot food — mostly a thin soup of roots and some meat, but as good as ambrosia after their day — and heavy bread nine days old. Kineas ate his and handed his bowl to Niceas to use. ‘Wake me if the rain stops,’ he said. He lay down with Eumenes and Leucon, and the soggy ground met him with an icy embrace. It was horrible, and then it was merely uncomfortable, and then he was asleep.
He woke from a dream of being trapped in a cave full of water to find Leucon’s cloak over his head, and he was blind. He threw it off, reaching for his sword, and Niceas, silhouetted by a fire that burned as high as a man, jumped back.