Over all of it, the fog of Ares rose from the sandy ground to obscure everything but the wraithlike movements and the strongest glints of polished metal. The Sakje still glittered with gold, so that even through the battle haze, Kineas could estimate their positions.
Nowhere could he find Queen Zarina, who should have been in the centre. But just to the near side of the enemy centre, just behind the fighting, Kineas could see a purple cloak surrounded by aides. Even as he watched, Alexander was leading a wedge of Companions into the Massagetae nobles to his front.
And behind the Macedonian lines was the river. Dead trees filled the ford, and across the river, a huge dead tree towered over the field, stark and awesome, and Kineas felt the full weight of his doom. He shivered, and his side hurt — something liquid seemed to move inside his skin, and he swayed in the saddle. He began to turn his horse — he thought of how he might, after all his posturing, leave the field, flee with honour. Or without it.
I do not want to die! he thought. His breath burned in his throat and his heart seemed to pump out the last of his blood, so that he was cold.
The setting sun was red like the blood of a dying man, and it shone on his men as they crested the hill, barring any possible retreat, and they reminded him — more than reminded him — of who he was. They were strong, unbeaten, three crisp triangles that darkened the ridge so that there was immediate commotion in the Macedonian centre and the Sakje on the ridge before him panicked, assuming that they were Macedonians. He looked at his men — the Keltoi and former hoplites of Olbia, dressed in the remnants of Greek armour, with Sakje tack and Sauromatae armour here and there, many in barbarian trousers, some wearing Sakje hats in place of their helmets.
Just beside him, Hama grinned. ‘Now for glory!’ Hama called. He threw his sword in the air and it flew in a wheel of fire and Hama caught it by the hilt. All the Keltoi roared.
Thank you, Hama. Decision made, Kineas took a deep breath. Fear was deep in his guts, but there was elation there as well. There was even happiness, the happiness of a craftsman nearing the completion of a long and heavy task. To his right, the Sauromatae crested the hill and formed their ranks, glittering bronze and iron scales over every man, woman and horse. Gwair Blackhorse, the leftmost man in the front rank, turned and waved. The sun torched Lot’s armour, but however bright his bronze and gold burned, Srayanka was the sun herself as she rode over the crest, her helmet and gorget too bright for him to watch.
Kineas’s throat was heavy with all of it — pride, terror, joy. He could smell apples.
He left the point of the Olbian wedge and rode along the crest, sword in the air, until he was sure that all three wedges were fully formed and ready. If this were their moment, he would not waste it with a simple error. Their cheers followed him, and in the valley at his feet he could sense the change. They were too golden to be Macedonians. Even as he cantered back to his place, the ocean noise of the Sakje cheers began to come back from the centre, as the Massagetae realized that their long fight in the centre was not in vain. And the purple cloak flickered in the setting sun and the dust, but it was moving back.
Kineas pulled into his place, with Diodorus at one shoulder and Carlus at the other.
‘Athena!’ he called, and men laughed aloud — power flowed through him like the ichor of a god. And the Olbians — Hellenes and Keltoi together — sang Athena’s paean as they started forward, and many among the Sakje and even the Sauromatae took it up, so many times had they heard it around campfires, standing in the rain or the biting heat of the plains, among the snows of Hyrkania. Come, Athena, now if ever!
Let us now thy Glory see!
Now, O Maid and Queen, we pray thee,
Give thy servants victory!
The three wedges came over the crest at a walk. As soon as the horses felt the slope, Kineas let them move, taking the downhill side at a fast trot and then a canter, and he could see Lot and Srayanka at the point of their formations keeping pace.
The cavalry in front of him broke a stade before he could reach them. They had not had an easy day, galled by Scythian arrows and forced to climb the ridge. Now their world had turned upside down and they ran for the ford. Only the Macedonian cavalry stood, then charged back, their tired horses making heavy work of the hill, and the Sauromatae in the centre crashed into them with a sound like summer thunder.
Kineas refused to let Thalassa have her head, and he pulled her up, keeping an eye on Lot’s golden helmet as he used his heavy lance against the more lightly armed Macedonians, already disheartened to find themselves abandoned by their allies. The Macedonians held for a few heartbeats and then a few more, unused to defeat, fighting with their guts, and then they too broke, and the Sauromatae began to re-form their wedge on the move.
The chance of the hill and the ground had pointed their formations more at the ford than at the Macedonian pikes, who were already extending files and facing as fast as they could move to react — far too late, unless their king turned away from the centre to save them — and if he did, the battle was a stalemate.
Kineas could feel it.
He was off the last of the ridge, on the flat and in the battle haze. Off to his right, there were trumpets — Alexander calling his Hetairoi to save the battle. Kineas barked ‘Take command!’ at Diodorus and then ‘Wheel right!’ at Antigonus, who sounded the call. Kineas tapped Thalassa to a gallop and she leaped forward at his order, flying over the ground. Kineas raised his heavy spear over his head, showing all three formations their new direction, and the three triangles wheeled, staggered because of distance and reaction time. Kineas placed himself ahead of the Sauromatae. ‘Wheel, Lot! Wheel right!’
Lot was becoming less visible in the dust, but he raised his lance and a moment later his trumpeter sounded.
Srayanka will hit them first, Kineas thought. He gave Thalassa her head and the mare skimmed the dirt, hooves scarcely touching the ground. How far away were Alexander’s Hetairoi?
He saw the golden glow of Srayanka’s armour first, and he pulled in as he came up. ‘Wheel right!’ he shouted.
She raised her long-handled axe in salute and her trumpet rang out as Kineas closed with her, wheeling Thalassa. ‘Alexander is right in front of us!’
She laughed, a sound of joy. ‘Hephaestion is mine!’ she shouted. ‘Aiiyyeee!’ and she gave her horse its head and the Sakje were off into the dust, Kineas already angling away to the centre. If he had pictured this correctly, the three wedges would hit the Macedonian Companions in three staggered plunges, like three sword thrusts.
He was nearly abreast of Lot when the red-cloaks came out of the haze. He turned Thalassa and settled into the Sauromatae formation seconds before the two triangles crashed into each other.
The explosion of noise as they impacted drowned out thought. Kineas never had time to throw his javelin, and Thalassa crashed breast to breast against a Macedonian horse that she couldn’t avoid as Kineas ducked the point of the man’s lance, and the two beasts went up in a flurry of hooves, standing on their hindquarters. Kineas’s legs closed like a vice and he swept his javelin like a sword — the point caught between the Companion’s arms, and Kineas leaned into it as Thalassa pushed forward on to four feet and the enemy trooper was down, unhorsed but probably otherwise uninjured. Kineas pressed in immediately. Now he threw his javelin into the man facing Lady Bahareh, recognizable from her heavy grey braids, and Kineas’s throw caught him under the bridle arm and sent him into the dust and she pushed forward as well and there was another chaos of noise from their left as the Olbian wedge met the Macedonians.