"Where's that postman, Outanas?" I asked.
Elisas said: "Gone, Troop Leader. When you went off after the guide, the postman leapt up as if to join the chase, but remembered his precious mailbags and forbore. He told me to thank you for the victuals and rode off."
"A pox!" I said. "I was fain to ask about the things Harpalos dare not do unless Alexander be dead."
Next morning the headman came to demand a fantastic sum that Dastiger had promised them for joining in his hoax. I chased the mayor back to the village, spanking his bottom with the flat of my wretched new sword.
From Parin the road descended as it westered. The foothills of the Indian Caucasus still rose on our right, with the mountains towering behind them, tier upon tier. On our left, the land opened out into vast level plains, dry, barren, windswept, and gravel-covered, with little sign of life save an occasional troop of gazelles or wild asses. The wild ass of these parts is a mulelike beast almost as large as a horse, which the Persians call a gaur.
Two days from Parin we came at last to the genuine Haitoumans, the Etymandros of the Hellenes. Here the river cuts through a yawning trough in the desert. The ford is deep and dangerous, unusable in spring.
Our column wound down the high side of the gorge. My people looked mistrustfully at the broad brown flood and then at me. At such times a leader's right to his post is put to the test. I forced Golden into the water, step by step, the stones rolling and grinding under her hooves.
Soon the water was waist-deep for a man afoot. Some Persian king had caused a line of stakes to be driven into the bottom below the ford and linked by ropes, to stop people from being swept away. But half the stakes were gone.
Behind me the men came in one at a time. Their horses snorted and needed a touch of the spur. Elisas rearranged the contents of the carts to put things liable to damage from the water on top.
Golden, shivering, plodded on. Most military men do not deem a ford usable if it be more than twelve palms deep, and the Haitoumans was at least sixteen palms at its deepest.
At last the water shoaled. From the far bank the road slanted up the side of the gorge. I walked Golden up this road a few paces and looked back.
The carts floundered through the flood, the water curling round their wheels. On the far bank, Kanadas and Siladites talked to Aias. The elephant lumbered into the stream, playfully splashing water about with blows of his trunk.
As they neared the west bank, my people more and more swerved to the right to make a short cut to the road up the bank. I sat at the first turn and waved them past. "Haill on, lads!" I called.
Aias, too, swerved upstream. Where the water was but a few palms deep, his stride slowed to a halt. He swung his head from side to side. He started to pluck first one foot and then another, out of the mud, but seemed unable to advance despite earnest efforts. He raised his trunk and squealed.
I called: "What is the matter?"
"He stuck!" came back Kanadas' deep voice. "Soft bottom here. Go quickly; get help!"
Already one could see that Aias was lower in the water. I hastened up the road. Before me lay Garis: a mud-walled fortress, a walled caravan shelter, and a score of houses huddled round a small market place.
"Vardanas!" I cried. "Aias is mired. We must get all the draft oxen we can, with harness and ropes."
We clashed into the town, scattering people and dogs. Vardanas demanded: "Where is the chief?"
The people either did not understand or pretended not to. At last we found an old man who, though a little deaf, admitted he understood Vardanas when the latter shouted.
Vardanas said: "He says a Persian governor is the highest man here, but he has gone gaur hunting."
"Have they no elected headman? You know, a mayor?"
More shouting. Then: "The mayor has gone hunting with the governor."
"How about the postmaster?"
"He has gone hunting too."
"Are there no Hellenes?"
"None. Just the governor to collect taxes and keep up the caravan shelter, the mayor to enforce the laws, and the postmaster to keep the postal service running."
Thyestes pushed his way through the thickening crowd, saying: "O Leon, the great beastie's up to his knees in mud the now. Gin you dinna get him out sune, he'll be freely buried."
Striving to keep calm, I said to Vardanas: "Then who does rule this dung heap?"
"Nobody, now. The hunters are expected back any day."
"Then tell him to order his people to fetch their oxen and tackle."
"He says he cannot."
"Why not?"
"They have no oxen, he says."
"Nonsense! I saw several in the fields."
"I know." Vardanas spoke in a threatening tone to the oldster. "Now he says they could not do it without orders from the governor." Some young Garians had gathered round the elder and uttered approving sounds at each response he made. Then Kanadas arrived. The townsfolk gave him a wide berth, for with his height and blue beard and huge sword he was an imposing sight.
"Woe, woe!" he cried, weeping. "Hurry, Lord Leon! My beautiful Mahankal is up to his belly in mud! If he die, I go mad, kill everybody!"
In the distance, Aias trumpeted calls for help.
"Translate that," I said, and to Thyestes: "Blow the alert and line the lads up. Belike we maun butcher these knaves to make them help us."
Vardanas reported: "Now he admits they have oxen, but not enough harness for the task. Anyway, how do they know the elephant will not trample the town flat?"
A blast on our trumpet sent the Garians running for shelter, whilst the Thessalians lined up with javelins poised.
"Elisas!" I said. "Give me a small loaf of bread."
"Are you daft, man?" said Thyestes.
"Na, you shall see." I took the loaf and said to Vardanas: "Tell him I shall now begin to eat this loaf. If, when I have finished, they've not rounded up all the oxen within five furlongs, with harness, and all the rope in town, I'll order my men to slay them all and burn the town to the ground. If, on the other hand, they help us, they shall be fairly paid."
I began eating while Vardanas translated. A furious haver broke out betwixt the old man and those around him. I kept on munching.
When a third of the loaf was gone, the younger Garians scattered to their dwellings. The townsfolk reappeared, running out to the fields. When the loaf was nearly gone, Vardanas said:
"They say these are all the oxen they have, and if we do not believe them we should search for ourselves."
"It pleases," I said, finishing the loaf. "Let's forth to the stream."
Poor Aias was indeed in sorry plight, with his belly drooping into the water. His trunk was curled up over his forehead, and he sent out peal after peal of trumpeting. The villagers drew back from the awesome sight, and some of the bullocks tried to flee back up the road from the ford.
"Give me rope!" cried Kanadas.
Taking the end of the heaviest rope, of braided leather, he plunged into the water and waded out to his pet. He and Siladites passed the rope around the elephant's rump, shouting at each other in Indian.
Finding all the others looking at me, I realized that they expected me to direct the rigging of an elephant tackle. I had never done any such task; but, as we say in Thessalia, one never knows what one can do till one tries.
I grouped the oxen, small black beasts with humps on their backs like those of India, in six teams. One team was to pull each limb of the elephant, one on the main rope around his rear, and one on a loop around his neck.
One effect of this activity was that Aias, knowing it was for his good, stopped struggling and thus did not sink further into the mire.