Feeling no pain, I opened my eyes. Aias still stood over me. The wetness, however, was not my gore but melon juice that ran down from his chin as he ate.
I got up amidst general laughter. Even Kanadas, who seldom found anything funny in life, smiled. Betimes I thought that the gods took particular pleasure in wreaking indignities on me. I am naturally sober and dignified; but, whenever I try to present a noble front to the world, something like this melon farce occurs.
Still, it does no good to fret and fume. Instead, one must feign as much mirth as the rest. Therefore, I gave a hearty if not heartfelt laugh and set the column back in marching order.
We passed the trader with the asses, the Gandarians on foot, and the squire with the chariot, who had a pair of well-armed outriders. We drew ahead of the camel train.
I found that I knew not the form of the pass, save in a general way, for on my earlier passage I had been over-busied with keeping the troop in order to heed such matters. I therefore asked Kavis:
"How far is it to the end of the pass?"
He smiled. "Two leagues or a little more. We shall reach it by nightfall."
We plodded on for at least three leagues. Night fell, but there was no sign of the end of the pass.
"We shall get there early tomorrow," said Kavis. "It is not more than a league beyond this point. Set a strong watch, for the Chaibara Pass is a favored place for hillmen to rob travelers."
Next day we were up and moving before the sun. Aias balked several times, until it became a question of which gave out first, the pass or our supply of melons. At the top of the pass the gorge opened out into a saddle, from which I saw an immense distance. Wherever I looked, there was nought but this frightful wilderness of towering peaks and tumbled crags. Kavis kept telling me that the end of the pass was but a few furlongs further until I shouted:
"Auramasdatai zata bia!" which means "May God smite you." I added: "You are a dog-faced liar. According to your promises, we have already cleared the end of the pass a dozen times over!"
He spread his hands and smiled cheerfully. "But, lord, had I told you how long the pass really is, it would have made you sad and fainthearted. As it is, you have marched joyfully, believing the end to be only beyond the next turn."
Not knowing whether to strike the impudent fellow or to laugh, I turned away. This, I found, is a habit of the Gandarians, when asked how far anything is. Either they have a misguided sense of politeness, or they know no distance accurately. I suspect the latter, for the Persian league is not a fixed length. It is, instead, the distance one can walk in one hour. Hence it may be any length from twenty-five to thirty-five furlongs, depending on the walker and on the ground. The only way to be sure of any distance in Asia is to measure it off oneself, as Baiton and his colleagues were doing.
We camped in the pass for a second night. Next morning we had more trouble with the elephant, but luckily our last melon got him through the last tight place. Then the pass opened out into a stony plain. There was a postal station like a little fort at the end of the pass, where relay horses were kept for the postmen. Behind the station stood a huddle of mud huts with a few mulberry trees.
Whilst the hipparchia rested, I went into the postal station, made myself known to the postmaster, and wrote a letter to the king. I told Alexander this road was more suited to goats, or better yet eagles, than to elephants. Thereafter I tried to keep a few spare fruits for Aias in our stores whenever we traveled through mountains.
When I had signed and sealed my letter, I came out to find a group of Thessalians cutting up a fresh-killed sheep and preparing to cook it.
"What's this?" I said.
"We bought it in the village," said one of them, Polygonos of Iolkos. "You said we might rest for an hour."
The looks that the men gave each other made me wary. I said to Kavis: "Come with me."
In the village I found the headman and said to Kavis: "Translate my words with care. I wish to know how much was paid for that sheep my men are eating."
The headman broke into a stammering, stumbling spate of speech. Kavis said:
"It was not paid for. Two of your men threatened to kill a villager if they were not given it."
"I thought so! Tell him to come and point out the thieves."
The headman looked frightened. Kavis said: "He fears to do so, lest they return to slay him."
It took some persuasion to make the man come. Kavis said: "Do you really mean to punish these men, Lord Leon?"
"I shall carry out the king's orders."
Kavis shook his head. "Imras save me! Your king must indeed be a god, or else a little mad. In all the years of the Persian Empire, I do not think any official ever paid for what he took from a villager.
I hoped to visit some of my old enemies and seize their goods as a king's man."
The headman pointed out Polygonos and one other man, Geres of Lapathos, whom I at once had seized and flogged. I gave the headman ten drachmai and dismissed him. Howsomever, for the rest of our stay he hovered as close to me as my own shadow, fearing that, if he got out of my sight, the Thessalians I had punished would kill him.
Later that day, our road rejoined the Kophen. Here we halted to bathe, for our march through the pass had laid a thick layer of dust on our skins. That is, the Thessalians and their families bathed. As we stripped on the bank, I saw that Kavis, Vardanas, and the Dahas had not joined us. They stood apart with eyes averted, looking like men blushing for shame, though we were all burnt so brown that no blush could be seen.
"Will you no bathe, too?" I said. "It costs us nought."
"I pray you will excuse me, Troop Leader," said Vardanas. "To us, such an act seems highly immodest. Moreover, no Persian would bathe in running water. We hold rivers sacred and not to be defiled by human offscourings and waste."
"Suit yourselves," I said. "Stand guard over the rest of us, then."
Since Indians do not share the Asiatic superstition that it is indecent to appear naked in public, Kanadas plunged in with us. So did Siladites when Kanadas relieved him of the care of the elephant.
The road ran along the south side of the Kophen into Paktuika. Here the valley of the Kophen is a sandy desert, bare save where the Paktyans irrigate it to grow wheat and mulberry trees. Distant mountains hem the flatland like walls: the Indian Caucasus to the north, its high peaks snow-capped even in summer, and a smaller range to the south. We found the hot winds so oppressive that, on Kavis' advice, we slept through the heat of the day and marched in the early morn and late even instead.
Finding a camp site became a subject of hot dispute. It began the morning of the second day after we rejoined the Kophen. Thyestes said:
"Leon, yonder's a bonny place to camp. See the broken rock that runs halfway round it for a defense, and that little peak where the sentry can sit?"
"Aye, it pleases," I said, and gave the signal to halt.
Kanadas, riding the elephant, came up to the head of the column and loomed over me. He leaned down and said: "You stop here, Troop Leader?"
"Yes."
"No good."
"Why not, man?"
"No shade for elephant. He get hot in middle of day, get sick, fall down dead."
"By the!" said Thyestes. "What's the big black Kyklops havering anent the now?"
When I translated, Thyestes said: "Sunstroke, on a great beastie like that? The wight's daft; dinna heed him."
"He knows more about elephants nor you do, laddie, and our task is to get this one to Athens alive and hale."