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‘We still have no real report of how many Alani have crossed the mountains, nor the numbers of Suani that have gone over to Saurmag,’ Tir-mihr said.

‘The majority of Suani will remain loyal to the memory of King Polemo and to his chosen heir Azo,’ said Pythonissa. ‘The members of the synedrion have never trusted Saurmag.’

Narseh dipped his head to Pythonissa but spoke to Tir-mihr. ‘In this case, numbers may matter less than in many operations. No one can fight a battle on a mountain. All engagements will be in the river valleys and passes. In an enclosed space, a multitude of the enemy will count for less than our equipment, training and courage, Mazda willing.’

‘Then how many we march upcountry should be determined by two things,’ said Tir-mihr. ‘How many we can spare from the occupying army among the Cadusii and Mardi, and how much forage we think available in Suania.’

Ballista liked the old Persian general. Tir-mihr had the good sense born of long experience. He said what was needed straightforwardly, without elaboration.

‘We will ride with two thousand clibanarii and three thousand light horse,’ said Narseh. ‘It will leave our cousin Sasan Farrak enough to keep the tribes to the south-west of the Caspian from any further rebellion. It is the haymaking season; the kyria Pythonissa assures me that the high valleys of Suania can feed many more horses than that.’ He addressed himself to the Albanians. ‘A contribution of another one thousand allied horse – half with heavy armour – would be welcome.’

Cosis and Zober made haste to pledge their men.

‘It would be an honour if the king himself led his men,’ suggested Narseh.

Cosis said the honour would be all his. Ballista realized that the Albanians would be as much hostages as a military asset – a position he knew all too well.

‘Good,’ said Narseh. ‘We will gather another thousand riders from Hamazasp on the march.’

The Sassanid’s horse raised its head from the water, tossed it. Narseh waved the flies from its eyes, quieted it. ‘One thing still concerns me. While I accept the need for speed, urged by both the framadar Ballista and the kyria Pythonissa, is it wise to go into the Caucasus with cavalry alone?’

Ballista knew it was time for him to justify the gamble he was asking them to make. ‘ Kyrios, infantry usually are essential for hill fighting – to hold ground, to guard the heights flanking the column. But, as the kyria says, the tribesmen will not be united against us. The Alani, like the Persians, prefer to fight on horseback. They and Saurmag are pinned to the fort of Cumania. The pretender has to take Azo, and the Alani have to ensure the pass back to the steppes. They will have to meet us in open battle before the Caspian Gates.’ Ballista tried to sound like Tir-mihr, sagacious and certain. He hoped he was not leading them all to disaster.

Narseh laughed, his teeth very white behind the blue-black beard. ‘I hope you are right, Framadar. I hope your desire to rescue your friends has not clouded your judgement.’ He was no fool, this handsome young prince. ‘We Persians remember what happened when the Achaemenid Cyrus went against the nomad Massagetae. Their barbarian queen used the King of King’s skull as a drinking cup.’

XXX

It was a tradition among the Persians not to begin a march until after sunrise. It was not, as the Greeks held, a result of sloth, but down to the demands of religion. After the necessary dawn sacrifice, with the day already well advanced, the signal was given by trumpet from the tent of Prince Narseh.

It was four days after the hunt in the paradise that they finally set out. Despite his eagerness to get to his familia in Suania, Ballista was not unhappy at the delay. Certainly, the first day had been a godsend. The problem had been another Persian tradition. Something they had decided on drunk had to be discussed again sober to see if it still seemed a good idea – and vice versa. They had ridden back from the pool and eaten roast boar. Then, with the servants dismissed and a ring of particularly trusted clibanarii posted, they had started to drink and talked it through again. They had drunk a great deal. Pythonissa had left early – which, given nine very drunk men, had been a good thing. They had drunk through until the stars paled above the treetops. The next day, Ballista had been unable to get out of bed. He was good for nothing, except perhaps one thing. Pythonissa had visited him. While it lasted, sex gave a hungover man an unfounded sense of well being. Afterwards, of course, he felt far worse. Even on the subsequent two days, Ballista had felt washed out. He was sure he could drink less than when he was younger.

Narseh had been busy while Ballista moped about. The Sassanid prince had made great efforts to circumvent yet another Persian custom. Eastern armies – and those of the house of Sasan were no exception – liked to take their comforts with them. Huge meteor trails of wagons and carts, slaves and concubines; all manner of camp followers streamed in their wake. The length of the column was much increased, its rate of march and cohesion drastically reduced. The civilians got in the way of the warriors, and were very given to panic. To venture into the mountains thus encumbered was to invite disaster.

Issued by the authorized general and a son of the Mazda-worshipping divine King of Kings, the word of Narseh was not to be ignored. But his ukase was unpopular. Each clibanarius was to be accompanied by just one servant. Every ten light horsemen could have one servant. The hierarchical nature of Sassanid society was further reflected. Each commander of a hundred might have five servants; each commander of a thousand, ten. The prince himself – appearances had to be kept up in the sight of foreigners – would travel with one hundred. All servants were to ride. It did not have to be a horse – a donkey, mule or camel would do – but there were to be no wheeled vehicles at all. Cosis was instructed that the same regulations were to apply to his Albanians.

Ballista rode off with Maximus and Castricius to a spur of the foothills to watch the army come down into the plains. It was a warm morning; going to be a hot day. The horses stamped, swished their tails as the flies got at them. Ballista wondered whether to question Castricius about his newly claimed Macedonian ethnicity. A sophist he had once heard had claimed that we reinvent ourselves with every action, if not every thought. But publicly changing from a Gaul to a Macedonian seemed somewhat excessive.

A swarm of light horse came out from the tree line. The bowmen swooped across the grassland, wheeling this way and that out of sheer high spirits. With their bright tunics and turbans, the colourful saddlecloths of their mounts, they resembled a migration of exotic, fierce birds. Ballista estimated their number – about five hundred. It was odd watching them in amity. He remembered seeing their like on the march down to Circesium, and the fear they had induced.

Two more distinct bodies of light cavalry emerged, the numbers of each about the same as the previous division. The newcomers cantered off to right and left to flank the march. They may be deep in allied territory, but Ballista approved that Narseh was taking all precautions. He suspected the hand of the dependable Tir-mihr.

Narseh led out the main body. Above him floated a great lilac banner with an abstract design picked out in silver. The mobad Manzik carried the prince’s sacred flame, boxed for travel. Ballista was unsure about these Zoroastrian symbols. He thought each Bahram fire was lit from another; forming, as it were, an extended family.

Behind Narseh, the clibanarii rode five abreast: big men on big horses, splendid in silk and steel, bristling with lances, hung about with bow cases, maces, long swords. The column was four hundred deep – a sight both beautiful and terrible.

The baggage train was next. Ballista could see Tir-mihr and young Gondofarr spurring up and down its length, trying to chivvy it into some order. Given Narseh’s instructions, it should consist of less than three and a half thousand mounted men. It was impossible to be sure, but there seemed more. Yet many would drop out before the mountains, and at least there were no wheeled carriages.