In fact, his superiority in all things was obvious, and all the young warriors of both sexes accepted it apart from Scopasis. Scopasis, though younger, would accept no order from Thyrsis, nor ride with him.
Thyrsis came and sat by Melitta, who was adding scales to the shirt that Samahe had made her, putting shoulder-plates on the yoke. Her back was to Nihmu, who was sewing a soft deerskin shirt. They leaned their backs against each other for warmth and stability. On the other side of the fire, Ataelus went through his arrows, peering along their lengths, while Coenus cast lead sling balls in a stone mould and the metallic tang of the hot lead filled the yurt.
Samahe had scouted all day, well ahead of the clan, and now she was asleep in her furs and blankets.
'Greetings, lady,' Thyrsis said, respectfully. He was a very polite young man.
Melitta made room for him. There was something about him – perhaps his respect for her – that made her feel much older than him.
'I brought new warriors,' he said, looking at his father.
'And no meat,' Ataelus said wryly.
'Word of your coming is spreading like flame on dry grass,' Thyrsis said. 'If you would ride two days to the Grass Cats' winter town, we might raise a hundred riders – or twice that.'
Melitta smiled, coughed when a gust of wind somewhere managed to push smoke into her eyes and mouth, and shook her head. 'And then?' she asked.
'Why, then we can fight Marthax,' Thyrsis said.
'Marthax has half a thousand knights, every one of them with three warhorses as good as Gryphon or your father's charger, Eagle. The last thing I want is to challenge him to battle.'
Thyrsis shook his head and began shedding fur – a minute by the fire and outdoor clothes caused a sea of sweat. 'Then what do we go for? Will Marthax cravenly hand you the kingship?'
'Why would that be craven?' Melitta asked. Behind Ataelus, the tent flap opened and Scopasis entered. He went and sat by Ataelus. Melitta turned back to Thyrsis. 'Perhaps Marthax will do what is best for the people. He has no other heir.'
Thyrsis watched the fire. 'But – I promised them a fight. They are young and hot.'
Melitta glanced at Ataelus. Being the lady was already far more complex than she had expected, and she wished her brother, who thought deeply and read people well, was there with her. 'You want a fight,' Melitta said. She tried to keep her voice kind. 'You recruit young fighters because you want to be a chief, like your father, and lead them in war.' Melitta sighed. 'We will have war soon enough.'
Thyrsis nodded. 'Will you ride with my young warriors tomorrow?' he asked.
'I look forward to meeting them, Thyrsis,' Melitta said. 'But I am here to be the lady of all the Assagatje, not just the young.'
Scopasis watched her the way an eagle watches a rabbit. Annoyed, she went back to her armour, carefully running a fresh thong through the next scale and fixing it in place, then tying the knots. No one else spoke.
'How much further to Marthax?' Nihmu asked.
'Ten days' ride, and then some searching to find him. He may be at the Royal Winter Town, and he may not.' Ataelus shrugged.
Melitta had never come so far west in her youth. 'He must have word of us by now,' she said.
Ataelus nodded. 'You said to go straight to him,' he answered.
Mere days from meeting the king of the Assagatje, Melitta's doubts rose like a choking cloud to overwhelm her hopes. 'So I did,' she said.
'It is not too late to turn south and find Urvara,' Ataelus added. 'She would escort you with a thousand warriors.'
Melitta shook her head. 'In the spring. No one can ride with a thousand warriors in the winter unless they have Greeks to supply them. And my brother will come in the spring – I can feel it, as if I can see his mind. We must be ready when he is ready or we'll both fail. I must unite the Assagatje before the snow melts and the ground hardens.'
'You take a mighty risk,' Ataelus said.
Melitta looked up to find Scopasis's eyes on her. 'Yes,' she said. The next day, Scopasis emerged from a snow squall, riding hard. 'Horse men behind us,' he said to Melitta, and then to Ataelus. 'Moving fast. At least fifty.'
Ataelus rubbed his scraggly beard. He raised an eyebrow.
Melitta shrugged. 'Who can it be, coming from the south, except Urvara?'
Ataelus said, 'You don't want Urvara?'
Melitta shrugged right back. 'Perhaps the gods have taken that decision from me,' she said.
They formed up anyway, the bulk of the warriors under Ataelus's wolf's-tail banner, three crisp ranks. Ataelus had served for years with Greek commanders, and he had learned a great deal of their ideas on shock, on tactics, even formations. His clan of outcasts was yet a formidable fighting force. So they formed at the lip of a snow-covered ridge, and the other party rode slowly up the ridge, their horses black against the white snow until they were quite close.
Scopasis had pushed his warhorse in behind Melitta in the formation. Now he leaned forward. 'That is Urvara,' he said.
'Do you hate her?' Melitta asked without turning her head.
Scopasis paused. 'No,' he said, with no tone at all. 'No. I killed the man. What other sentence could she give?'
Melitta wondered. Scopasis was no ordinary killer. Two days had sufficed to teach her that.
No time to consider him now. 'Stay here,' she said to the boy. The last thing she needed in a parley with the biggest clan on the steppes was one of their own angry exiles at her side.
She collected Nihmu and Coenus, Ataelus and Samahe by catching their eyes, each in turn, and then she cantered Gryphon down the hill, snow flying around her, until she reached the tall blonde woman who sat under the Grass Cat banner in a scarlet cloak of Greek wool, trimmed in ermine. She looked like a queen. At her side sat a man who could rival Coenus for his Hellenic stubbornness, in a Thracian cloak and wool chiton, boots and no trousers.
Urvara didn't hesitate, but pushed her horse forward and embraced Melitta as soon as she picked her out – and then the queenly woman embraced Nihmu with the same savagery.
'Eumenes!' Melitta said. Eumenes was a fixture of her childhood – and her adolescence. 'Aren't you supposed to be in the field with Diodorus?' Only after she said the words did she realize that she hadn't spoken Greek for a month.
Eumenes laughed. 'I might ask you the same! I feel like a slave sent to fetch the master's truant boy from the agora. Sappho sent me!'
Urvara looked at them both. 'There will be time for this later. Melitta, none here will stand against your claim. I will put my hands in yours this minute – but why would you not come to me?'
Melitta took both of Urvara's hands – hard and soft, like Samahe's and her mother's. 'I do not want war with Marthax,' Melitta said. 'I want him to give me his title without war.' Melitta shrugged. 'He hates you.'
Urvara shook her head. 'Bah – Marthax and I have cooperated well enough for ten years, although there is little love between us.'
Melitta brushed snow from her hood. 'If I arrive at his camp with a thousand horses, he will have no choice but to fight. If I arrive with fifty horses, he will talk.'
Urvara shook her head. 'No, my dear. I'm sorry – but no. He'll just kill you and hide the body. He is not the man he once was.'
'And yet you say you cooperate,' Melitta shot back.
'He cooperates with me because he needs my warriors. My tribe has grown – thanks to my Eumenes and his Olbians, we are rich, we have children and we grow.' She reached out a hand, and Eumenes took it.
Melitta shook her head in frustration. 'So?'
Ataelus shrugged. 'For riding,' he said in his usual broken Greek. 'For snowing.' Ataelus pointed at Urvara's escort, fifty knights in full armour. 'Not enough for making war, but enough for making peace,' he said, his pronunciation of eirene almost comical.