Again the ox was loosed. This time it ran for the river. I galloped up, caught its horns, and slid off my horse, using my weight to twist the animal's head and finally throw it. The act would have been more impressive if the ox had not carried me to the edge of the Phrada, so that we both arose covered with mud. Still and all, my Asiatic comrades marveled at the feat and looked upon me with new respect.
" 'Tis nought," I said. "Every true Thessalian knight learns to do it afore he can walk."
The camels plodded in during the afternoon. Though I was no judge of camel-flesh, even I could see that they were poor creatures of their kind. One wobbled as it walked as though it would collapse if even a twig were placed upon its back. I asked Vardanas:
"How much did you promise for these things?"
"A drachma a day."
"Oh, you ninny! Even I know the going rate for camel hire is not above four oboloi a day in these parts."
"We had to have them; there were no others; you would not have liked me to spend a fortnight chaffering the old fellow down," said Vardanas in a hurt tone. "Besides, a gentleman does not like to bargain."
"One Persian gentleman has no sense about money, you mean. Next time I'll send Elisas to handle the commercial end of things."
I should have thought that, after riding thousands of furlongs, the Dahas and Ariaspians would have been glad to rest. But no, they must needs have a game of stick-and-ball ere we parted. We marked off a playing field in the desert and set a pair of large stones at either end for a goal. The game is played on horseback with a wooden ball and a stick that is flattened and curved at the end like a long-handled spoon. Each team tries to knock the ball through its own goal.
They played four on a side, Vardanas and three Dahas against four Ariaspians. Spargapithas was knocked senseless and had to be replaced. Two players became angry and belabored each other with their sticks until we parted them. Otherwise, it was a splendid game. The Phradan garrison, being in better practice, beat us 21-15.
From Phrada we took horse over a flat, boundless, yellow plain, bare but for a few tamarisks. The last foothills of the Indian Caucasus sank below the horizon behind us. The camels slowed us, because they went no faster than a man can walk.
The first morning after leaving Phrada, we were striking tents when a man said: "Somebody follows us, Troop Leader."
On the plain behind us, black against the rising sun, appeared two small figures. We delayed our departure until they came up, two weary Greek hoplites.
"I'm Oinopion of Orchomenos, Hipparch," said the elder in the old-fashioned Arkadian dialect. "This is my friend, Kteatos of Gortys. We're fain to join you."
"Oh?" said I. "What says your commandant of this?"
"He knoweth not," said Oinopion with a broken-toothed grin. "We dropped over the wall and marched all night to overtake you."
"What's your reason?"
The younger, Kteatos, spoke: "We can no longer endure this polluted desert, Hipparch! We yearn to see a tree or a brook; not this endless waste of sand and rock."
Perhaps I ought to have chased them back. But we had lost four men, wherefore I was not unwilling to strengthen my force at the expense of the Phradan garrison.
"Is the commandant likely to ride out after you?"
"Not he! He'll not even report our disappearance. He'll carry us on the rolls, instead, and pocket our pay himself. Perchance the Stasanor will not find out for years."
"Very well, provided you know what you're getting into. When there's work to be done, we all pitch in and do it. There's no swaggering about saying that this or that task is fit only for servants. Do you understand?"
"Aye," said Oinopion.
"Can you ride?"
The Arkadians traded glances. "We've not ridden of late," said Oinopion. "We thought thou wouldst suffer us to ride the wains."
"Nay! We're cavalrymen, and if you know not that trade, you'd best begin learning. First, take off those bronze cuirasses and greaves; the weight would kill your horses."
I mounted them on two of our gentler spare horses. They clung fearfully to the animals' manes, looking at the ground. "Marry! 'Tis a far fall, forsooth," said Oinopion.
The second day brought us to the Areios River, which flows into Lake Areios when it flows at all. Now it was but a shallow, sandy trough in the desert. At the crossing were a sarai, a postal station, and a well, but no town. Here we slaughtered the ox and cut its meat into strips to dry.
Then, following the caravan tracks and the advice of the postmen, we bore more to the south. We found ourselves crossing a belt of dunes of curious rosy sand, which gave forth a musical sound when trodden on.
"The singing sands," said Vardanas.
After we had struggled through the sand, a belt of low hills rose in front of us. We threaded our way through these and arrived at Nia with water to spare. By careful harnessing up, we had beaten the Desert of Despair.
Nia stands on a rocky hill in a flat plain. This hill is shaped like a wedge lying on its side, a gentle slope surrounded by steep cliffs on three sides. Hundreds of stone huts stand on the slope, and about the hill lie tilled fields watered by karises from the more distant hills. Several caravan routes meet at Nia.
From Nia we bore southwest. Two days brought us to an oasis where thousands of date palms stood. The sight inspired Vardanas to entertain us with a Persian song that lists three hundred and sixty uses of the palm tree. The tribe that owns the oasis lives by selling the dates. Like most of the folk of this region, they ride asses, even to war. Horses are scarce for lack of decent grazing. We loaded up with dates and filled our waterskins. Kanadas worried about the elephant.
"Not much good hay and straw left, Leon," he said. "He like not palm branches. He is not well. This no country for Indian elephants, or Indian men either."
Aias had in fact a drooping and shrunken look. He needed wooded country where he could stroll along tearing boughs from trees and eating the leaves by the talent. We did the best we could for him by chopping up palm fronds.
We set out across the Waterless Plain. The heat, which had abated as autumn wore on, rose as we proceeded farther south. Day after day we plodded through a wearisome sameness of landscape: flat expanses of rock and sand and gravel, now and then broken by a bit of a mound or an outcrop. Mirages shimmered on the horizon. By day there was little sign of life save occasional troops of gaur and gazelles. By night, wolves howled and hyenas laughed.
One day, the whole horizon in front of us became yellow. A huge yellow cloud rolled towards us.
"Sandstorm!" said Vardanas. "Cover your faces!"
"Close up!" I commanded. "Keep together!"
The storm crept slowly upon us, the air about us remaining calm. It took the storm a quarter hour to reach us. Then sky and landscape were blotted out by yellow-brown murk. The wind whipped our head-cloths. It was like swimming under water in a muddy river.
I tried to lead my detachment but soon found I was not sure of the way. We huddled and waited.
After an hour the wind fell. Patches of sky and land appeared. We shook the dust out of our garments. I was about to order us to march when the wind started again. Down came the brown pall.
Pyrron sat on his horse beside me, muffled up to the eyes like the rest. I shouted through my wrappings: "O philosopher, how explain you the fact that, though the Arachotian wind blows harder than this, it raises at no rate so much dust?"
"The Arachotian winds have already blown away all the dust in Arachotia," he shouted back.
At sunset the sandstorm stopped for good. To my amazement, we seemed to be in an entirely different place. The post road had vanished, and none of the features was familiar. I consulted with my officers. Vardanas said: