Aias, unused to icy blasts and lacking fur to keep him cosy, caught cold and grumbled unhappily. That night, Kanadas, bundled up to the eyes, came to me and said:
"Troop Leader, he die if we do not keep him warmer. We must get great blanket to cover him, or else stop and stable him till spring."
I summoned Elisas to help with the reckoning. It soon transpired that the delay would be more costly than the covering, could we but obtain a large enough sheet of crude cloth at a just price. Elisas said:
"There is a fair grade of woolen tent cloth for sale here, not too dear."
"All right, buy enough for a blanket for Aias."
"Not so fast, Troop Leader! It may take all the tent cloth in town to clothe the elephant. If we try to buy it all at once, the price will fly up like sparks from a fire. Let each of us go in turn and buy a piece, not as if we really needed it."
"How much need we?"
Elisas spread his hands. "Have never measured an elephant for a suit of clothes."
"Then do so."
"Oh, noble Hipparch! I fear the monster and cannot approach him!"
So, in the gathering dusk, the early stars looked down upon Kanadas, Siladites, and me, pottering about Aias with a rope to measure his vast dimensions. I decided that stuff for four two-man tents would suffice.
The next day Elisas, Vardanas, Thyestes, and I each strolled into the market place, fingered the tent cloth, sneered at its quality, and bought a bolt after a long haggle. All, that is, but Vardanas. As he hated chaffering, he closed his deal before he should have and paid nearly twice as much as the rest of us.
Whilst the women sewed the bolts into a blanket, I visited the Greek garrison, which looked nervously northward towards the Armenian mountains. The commandant, Myson of Corinth, told me:
"With the world so unsettled, we never know what day will see us at war. I'm told the king of Armenia has sent a polite letter and a gift to the Alexander, but one never knows if Alexander will deem that submission enough."
"What sort of soldiers are the Armenians?" I asked.
"Fell fighters when well led. By the! They have some heavy cavalry I shouldn't care to stand in the path of. Come and see for yourself, Hipparch."
"Whither?"
"I'm about to ride up the road a few furlongs to meet the Armenian commandant. We shall be back in an hour or two."
So it befell that I rode Golden at a walk beside Myson, whilst eight hoplites from the garrison, their bronzen helms and cuirasses brightly polished, clanked along behind us.
As Myson said, the border lay hardly out of sight of Bezabde. A pair of stone markers, one on either side of the royal highway, showed where it was. Myson said: "Shoulder—arms!"
The shields that had been slung over backs were brought around; the pikes that had been trailing in the gravel came smartly up to the right shoulders. Ahead of us a little knot of figures sprang apart. Four Greek border guards and an equal number of Armenians had been playing at knucklebones. Now they stood solemnly at attention, leaving their dice and stakes where they lay.
Along the road from the other direction, winding down from the hills, came a group of Armenians, mounted on big horses of the Median kind and wearing coats of iron scale mail with heavy cloaks over them.
The fat Armenian officer clasped Myson's hand and called down blessings upon him in his own tongue. They dismounted. Myson presented the Armenian to me as Bagrates. The latter had brought along a secretary who spoke a little bad Greek; but, when we found that both Bagrates and I were fluent in Persian, I took the interpreter's place.
The commandants exchanged a medimnos of flowery compliments and drank a cup of wine to the eternal friendship of Alexander's empire and the kingdom of Armenia. Then they got down to business.
"My king, the high and mighty Arkloathos son of Arouandas," said Bagrates, "demands to know why you are diverting caravans to the southern road, instead of letting them follow the Persian royal highway through his dominions as heretofore."
When this had been translated, Myson said: "Tell him we're not diverting anybody. Because of the rumors of war and unrest, the merchants prefer to take the southern road rather than be caught in Armenia in time of trouble."
"Ah, but who spreads these rumors of war and unrest, and what are his motives?"
"Tell him I don't know any more than he does. Rumors, like weeds, grow without cultivation."
"Surely the able and intelligent Company Leader Myson does not expect me to believe that he knows not what goes on in his own district?"
The session became strained. Bagrates was no longer a jolly fat man, full of flowery compliments, but a man out to wring every advantage from an opponent. Myson became frosty too.
"Tell him," he said, "I don't know whence the rumors come. If that makes me stupid in his eyes, I must bear his disesteem as best I can." When I had translated, Myson continued:
"Now I have a complaint. Three nights ago, a party of raiders crossed the border from Armenia and attacked the farm of Louxos son of Hananas. Louxos lost three sheep and was wounded in the leg as he strove to drive off the marauders. From their garb and speech, he thinks they came from around Zachos. We demand that the sheep be returned and Louxos be compensated for his wound, which will cripple him for a month if not for life."
"How do you know these people came from Armenia? Did anybody see them crossing the border?"
"No, but they came thence and fled thither ..."
This wrangle went on for half an hour, until at last Bagrates told his secretary to note the matter and promised to look into it. Then he came back with a complaint about a party of hunters who, chasing a wild pig, crossed the border into Armenia and damaged the vineyard of one. Sardoures.
Myson retorted with a complaint about a lion that made its lair on the Armenian side but crossed into Alexandrine territory to carry off the livestock of Myson's people.
"Mighty though he be," said Bagrates, "we cannot ask my king to command the wild beasts to respect man-made boundaries!"
At last they agreed upon a joint Helleno-Armenian lion hunt. Each commandant would pick some deserving men from his garrison to take part.
Now Bagrates brought up another matter. Had the noble Myson done aught about forcing the wife of Tigranes son of Marouas, who had run off with a cobbler of Bezabde, to return to her husband? He, poor man, was going mad trying to till his farm and care for his seven children at the same time. Why had she not come back?
The conference took three hours. Then the two commandants, who had been barking complaints and accusations, smiled, drank another toast, clapped each other on the back, mounted, and rode off.
"He's not a bad fellow," said Myson, "but for all his fat, sleepy look, he's sharp as a razor. You dare not yield a finger lest he take instant advantage."
While these words about Bagrates seemed just, I could not help thinking that Myson had not done badly at taking instant advantage himself.
We were packing to leave Bezabde when a Kordian swaggered into our camp and demanded to see me. He was the one whom I had questioned about the snowshoes on our first day in the city. Vardanas explained:
"He says he is an expert muleteer, camp man, groom, and guide, and can fight like a demon in a pinch. Will we hire him?"
The man looked strong, and I thought our force could use another pair of hands after its losses. "How far is he willing to go with us?"
"The farther the better, he says."
"All the way to Athens?"
"To the edge of the world, if we will take him, so it be far from Kordavana."