"O Rheon, how glad we are to see you! Pyrron has been telling me about philosophy, and my poor brother is having a difficult time translating."
I sympathized with Kambouzias. The abandoned wench, to flatter Pyrron, had urged him to tell her all about his theories. Kambouzias' Greek was adequate for such simple sentences as: "I have placed the lamp on the table," or "Please pass the salt," but in philosophy he was quite at sea. Nor could the lass have learned much about such an advanced subject from his fumbling translation.
Pyrron, happily unaware of this, said: "I'll go ahead, old boy, pausing for you to interpret. Now, the third mode of inconsistency in our percepts arises from the differences between the sense channels in the different cases. For example, an apple gives the impression of being yellow to the sight, sweet in taste, and fragrant in smell, but these sense impressions have no necessary connection, one with the other. Thus it follows that what appears is no more a certain, determinate thing than something else ..."
"Excuse me," I said, "but if I know not whereof you speak, how do you expect the maiden to know either?"
Pyrron shrugged. "That's what she asked for."
"Oh, pray do not stop him, Rheon!" said Nirouphar. "I love to hear him lecture. It sounds so profound, even when I understand it not."
I sighed and took up my translating, pausing now and then for a hearty sneeze. I suppose any passer-by could have seen that I had eyes only for Nirouphar, while she had eyes only for Pyrron, who had eyes for nought but his fine-spun webs of reasoning. Betimes we had to halt the lecture to untangle Pyrron from the dogs' leashes, for he would absently let them run in circles round him until he was helplessly enmeshed.
We returned to Thraitaunas' house to find a gilded litter in front of the door, with two bearers and two armed guards. A eunuch came out, leading the boy who had been playing with Ariakas. Thraitaunas' son exchanged farewells with the boy and his keeper. The boy got in, and off they went, the eunuch walking beside the litter.
We went in and found Thraitaunas deep in converse with Kanadas, with whom he got on quite well. In fact, I think Kanadas was the only one of us whom Thraitaunas liked, despite the Indian's odd ways, such as his insistence on cooking his own dinner and eating it by himself in a corner. Just now Kanadas was talking on his two favorite subjects, to wit: his dislike of the journey and the foreign lands it took him through, and the moral superiority of Indians over all other men. In spite of Kanadas' lack of tact—or perhaps because of it—his sobriety, piety, and imposing person impressed the old Persian. Thraitaunas was polite to the rest of us because we were the guests of his son; but, as he scorned all non-Arians, I do not think he really approved of us.
Indians, forbye, also call themselves Arians. Hence, although Kanadas was nigh as black as an Ethiop, a Persian gentleman had liefer have him in the family than a Hellene like me.
Thraitaunas looked up. "Well, did you get caught in the rain?"
"We found shelter, Father," said Nirouphar, "all but poor Rheon—"
I interrupted with a terrific sneeze. "Sir, who was the boy playing with your son? I saw him depart in great state, as if he were a young prince."
"He is, or was," said Thraitaunas. "That was Prince Vaukas, the son of the unlucky Daraiavaus." For so the Persians pronounce "Dareios."
"Oh," said I, regretting I had not passed the time of day with this sprig of former Persian royalty, if only to have something to tell about afterwards to make myself more interesting and impressive to others.
I sneezed through dinner and did but peck at the excellent food. Next morning I had a violent cold and fever. When I appeared at Thraitaunas' board, the family united in demanding that I go back to bed and let them nurse me.
I let them persuade me, looking forward to Nirouphar's tender care. She did devote me some time in the morning, but her ministrations proved more brisk and practical than tender.
"Keep covered and drink all of this water you can hold," she said. "No; no wine for you until you are on the mend!"
Then her father commanded Nirouphar forth to entertain Pyrron, while the graybeard sat on my bed by the hour and told me about his own ailments. If half the things he said were wrong with him were true, he had been dead six times over. Lucky for me that my sickness was no grave one, else I had wasted away from the mere contemplation of all the ills to which mortal flesh is heir!
The best thing that betided that day was when a Persian postman came in and gave me a letter, saying: "I have searched the city for you, Troop Leader. This is from the great king."
"Many thanks," I said, and tipped him two oboloi. The letter read:
EUMENES OF KARDIA GREETS LEON ARISTOU OF ATRAX
King Alexander commands me to tell yon that he follows your letters with the utmost interest. Already, mindful of your warnings about the Chaibara Pass, he has changed his plans for sending elephants westward by that route. He asks that you continue as you have been doing and write him forthwith should you find yourself in need or in danger. In addition to the praise of the king, pray accept my good wishes as well. We are now sailing down the Hydaspes, conquering as we go.
I learnt anon that when the king commanded Krateros to march to westward with a herd of elephants, they went, as a result of my advice, by Chaarena in the south instead of by Gandaria in the north.
That night I was kept awake by another familial quarrel, which led me to wonder if this were a nightly ritual. Although I was still unwell the next day, the thought of another session with Thraitaunas' symptoms drove to rise despite all protests.
"I thak you, sir," I said, "but duty cobes before adythig else. I bust prepare our departure."
Between my cold and an uneasy feeling that I was growing fonder of the sight of Nirouphar than was good for me, I went about my business with such a gloomy mien that one Thessalian asked me if the omens were bad.
That was a good question, as I had not had any omens read in Sousa regarding the next stage of our journey. I had meant to, but between fear of Aboulites and interest in Vardanas' family I had forgotten. That night at dinner I spoke thus to Beliddinos:
"O wise one, till now I have bought omens at each stage of the journey, though I have grown increasingly doubtful of their value. This time I have not yet done so. But I know the fame of Babylonians at reading the scroll of Fate. What think you? Should I go to an oracle monger as before, or can you read our future in the stars?"
"Far different from what vulgar fortunetellers assert is the pure Babylonian star doctrine," he said. "We hold that the gods, who live in the stars, by their radiations affect events on earth. But in a general sense only, they affect them. Thus when in the ascendant is Nerigal, likely is war; but that tells not if Leon of Atrax will be slain in battle.
I think we can, by long study and observation, the effects of the gods' influences on kings and nations dimly see. But as for casting horoscopes for common men like you and me, as to whether we should lend or borrow, or ride or walk—faugh! Mere quackery is it, my son; foolish deceit it is."
"Then how about the run of omen casters: the liver inspectors, bird watchers, and the like?"
"Believe as you list, and ill it becomes me to contemn my colleagues. In confidence, however, the more I study such matters the less faith in them have I. Somewhere in the sphere of the gods, I doubt not, is a perfect scheme of correspondence between omens and future events. The flight of birds, the form of the liver of a sacrifice, the mysteries of name and number, and the aspects of the heavens are all conjoined in one vast, mystic web of causality. But how much do we know about this? Not so much as we pretend, I warrant."