Somewhere beyond her in the torchlight, a slave dropped a heavy silver platter with a noise like a man beating a metal drum, or like a goddess clearing her throat. Kineas stepped back and kissed her hand, his resolve steadied.
‘Coward,’ she said. ‘I can feel your desire. And I am no painted harlot.’
He took a breath, and all he breathed was her. ‘I am a coward,’ he said. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from hers. ‘You are no painted harlot.’
She shrugged and moved away. ‘Go,’ she commanded.
Riding down the hill, he felt nothing but shame at his own indecision.
Kineas vowed not to return.
Again.
Because his horses were thin and he needed remounts, because Coenus was due with the bullion, because the passes had been closed by snow and they were all worried by the lack of news — and because the queen had abandoned modesty, Kineas felt the urge to act. So when he saw flowers coming through the snow, Kineas summoned his friends. He served the last of his good Chian wine.
‘I want to be ready to march,’ he said. He looked around.
Every man met his eye, and the grunts of agreement were clear. At his elbow, Philokles nodded. Niceas, who had grown a bushy beard, scratched at it.
‘Fodder,’ Niceas said.
Kineas agreed. ‘That’s the problem. We need fodder. The fodder has to come in from the queen’s peasants. They hate her, for starters, and she’s none too fond of us right now, because we’re marching away and leaving her to Parmenion’s vultures.’
‘That’s one reason,’ said Philokles, who missed nothing, when he was sober.
Diodorus rubbed his eyes. Smoke from the hearth was stinging them all, and every eye in camp was constantly red-rimmed. ‘Her own mercenaries are ready to sell her to Artabazus. That citadel won’t last a feast cycle when we march away. Everyone has their money on Parmenion.’
Kineas motioned to Nicanor, who signed to a slave, who poured wine in Kineas’s cup. Kineas stood. ‘She’s intelligent and resourceful and dangerous as a wolf. I want the guard led by someone in this room until we march. I want to set a date and publicize it. Then we’ll march two days early, in combat formation. And I want the prodromoi out as soon as Ataelus is willing to go, covering the route east all the way to the edge of the desert.’
No one disputed his ideas.
Diodorus held out his cup for wine. ‘We should be drilling the combat formation for marching. We should do it by sections, so that it’s not obvious to anyone watching.’
Kineas frowned. ‘That’s excellent. Draw up the plan and let’s give it to every officer by tomorrow. Nicanor, can you scribe for Diodorus?’
Nicanor nodded.
Heron had grown up again during the winter. Now he spoke out. ‘Two things, sir. First, do we need an operational plan in case we need to gather the forage ourselves? And second, if we leave,’ he coloured, ‘I hesitate to use the term hostile, but if the queen is not our friend when we march away, what becomes of Coenus and the bullion?’
Kineas, who had spent all winter worrying about Coenus, took a deep breath and released it. ‘We send a message to the fort at the top of the Kaspian, telling Coenus not to land here, and send guides to help him follow us.’
Heron jutted out his jaw insistently. ‘Easier to seize a town on the coast and hold it for him,’ he said. ‘With a garrison that can become his escort.’
That silenced the room. Kineas glanced at Philokles. ‘I had thought of leaving the infantry behind, or sending them home,’ he said.
Lycurgus, who had heard this idea all winter, shook his head. ‘We can keep up, if it comes to that. But Hades, Strategos, the boy’s plan isn’t a bad one. March up the coast and seize one of the wolf towns. It’d take us three or four days — there’s nothing up there to stop three hundred hoplites.’
Diodorus cut in. ‘I could go beyond that. Leosthenes says Hyrkania is full of Hellenes — deserters from one side or another. I’ve seen them — there are two groups of men who’ve sniffed around our camp, looking to be recruited. We could buy them.’
Kineas shook his head. ‘My goal is to strike a blow against Alexander with Srayanka. I’m not interested in the conquest of Hyrkania — which, let me tell you, would be a harder nut than you two seem to think.’
Leon shook his head. ‘Can’t we keep the queen sweet?’ Like Heron, Leon had grown over the winter. In his case, he was not just older but also more confident of his status as a free man. He frowned at Kineas. ‘I have money tied into this place, now. So do you. If the queen repudiates all the contracts I’ve made, I’ve wasted the winter.’
Kineas groaned.
‘Listen to me, Kineas,’ Leon insisted. ‘There’s more to the world than Herodotus thought. For two years I’ve heard rumours — Nicomedes heard them — of a great empire in the east, beyond the sea of grass. The place from which silk comes.’ He looked around at all of them, his eyes hot, and Kineas smiled inwardly, because Leon was no longer a slave. ‘It’s called Kwin, or Qu’in,’ he said, voice husky with passion. ‘I mean to go there!’
‘Good for you, lad,’ Niceas said with a smile.
The black man grinned. ‘I’m getting carried away. But I’m telling you, if we could open this route — if we could manage even a tithe of the trade across the old trade road — we’d be richer than Croesus.’
Eumenes frowned. ‘I think we need to discuss war, not trade. Trade is for merchants.’
Leon raised his chin. ‘Your father was a merchant.’
‘Shut your mouth!’ Eumenes said. He rose to his feet.
‘And a traitor,’ Leon said, conversationally.
Diodorus didn’t need a glance from Kineas to deal with adolescents. He put a hand on each combatant’s shoulder. ‘You are both rude and your comments have no place in a command conference. Apologize or suffer the consequence,’ he said. His words were spoken quietly, but they carried over every whispered side conversation and the room fell silent.
‘I apologize,’ Leon said. He was blushing so hard that his dark skin seemed to be engorged with blood.
‘I apologize for Leon’s bad manners as well as my own,’ Eumenes said. ‘He spent too much time as a slave and can’t help himself.’ Eumenes spoke rapidly, still enraged, and then looked stricken when he thought about what he had said aloud.
Kineas raised an eyebrow. ‘You may go to your quarters, Eumenes. Do not communicate with any other person. I will come and pay you a visit.’ He waited a moment, as the stunned young man stood frozen. ‘Now, Eumenes.’
Eumenes walked from the smoky hall in a daze.
When he was gone, Kineas found himself stroking his beard and made his fingers stop. He sipped his wine — excellent stuff, with a smell like wild berries, dark as ox blood — and nodded. ‘We’re not here to open a trade route,’ he said. He raised an eyebrow at Heron. ‘We’re not here to give you a base against Pantecapaeum, either. But if you lads can accomplish your dreams while obeying the orders of this council, I’m not against it.’
Heron’s family had provided generations of tyrants to Pantecapaeum, and he was currently in exile. Heron made no secret of his ambitions to be tyrant there — perhaps king of the Bosporus, as well. He gave a careful smile. ‘I appreciate your help. When I’m king-’
Niceas laughed. ‘Heron the first?’
Philokles laughed. ‘Eumeles, I suspect. The melodious one. Won’t that be your reigning name?’
Heron gave a wry smile. ‘You learn every secret.’
Philokles shook his head. ‘Not much of a secret. So we’re to be richer than Croesus?’
Niceas laughed. ‘Richer than Croesus is good,’ he said, giving Leon a smile. He winked at Heron. ‘Your parents actually called you Eumeles?’
‘They hadn’t heard my voice yet,’ Heron replied in his usual croak.
Diodorus leaned forward, cutting back to the matter at hand. ‘You really think we can live without the infantry?’ he asked. His face was burning — he was in the grip of a grand idea.