Bessas looked at Myron with awe. "I was wiser than I thought, to persuade you to come with me. Never could I fathom those higher computations if it were the only escape from the seven Babylonian hells." He glanced at his huge hairy fist. "Methinks Master Murashu wants a lesson in what happens to those who cheat noble Aryans."
"No, you thick-skinned idiot! He hasn't cheated us; he has merely made us an offer, which we are free to decline. With care and consideration, we may yet discover a way to obtain our money at lower rental."
"Meanwhile we might as well buy our other stuff—"
Bessas broke off.
"What is it? Are we followed?" asked Myron.
"There's an ordinary-looking little man, so commonplace that he were hard to describe, loitering across Enlil Street ... Now he's gone. I would swear by the demon Azi Dahaka's three heads that I have seen him before, following us about."
"Papai! Another man sent by the Daduchicls?"
"No doubt. If we are to be harried from Kissia to Kush by slinking shadows, we'd better buy some weapons and defenses' now." While they sought out an armer's shop, Bessas asked Myron: "What weapons are you seasoned in the use of?"
"None, I fear. As a youth in Miletos I learnt to march in step, keep in line, and thrust with the spear. But that was long ago; and, when the Persians stormed my city, all was over before I had an opportunity to fight. Being taken in arms, I was auctioned off. Although Lord Arsaces, liking the way I tutored his sons, liberated me after a few years' service, I have not had occasion to handle weapons since."
"Hmp. That sword you took from the murderer will be useful, but it's too short to use from horseback. Let us see what this fellow has to offer." Bessas turned in at a shop whose signboard bore a crude painting of a sword and a battle-ax crossed in front of a circular shield, and a helmet surmounting the whole.
The Bactrian's eyes gleamed with eagerness as he entered the armer's shop, where dully gleaming weapons hung in rows and the clang of the smithy came from the rear. He bandied weapon talk with the armer, bent bows, poised javelins, and swished swords and axes through the air until Myron reminded him that they had business.
"For you, I shall buy this mace," said Bessas, handing Myron a weapon with a two-foot hardwood shaft and a wickedly spiked bronze head. "That's the weapon for a tyro. You need not worry about its turning in your grip, as with a sword or ax; just hit hard with it. Now, armer, let me see a couple of spears: heavy enough to thrust, light enough to throw, short enough to handle easily, yet long enough to hold off a lion ..."
"Now for armor," said Bessas when he had chosen the spears. "A pair of helmets—none of your fancy Karian cockscomb crests, either, but a couple of plain bronzen pots to keep our brains from being spattered ... For body armor, let's see a couple of leather jacks."
Myron looked dubiously at the bronze-studded leather cuirass, of a deep, shiny, reddish brown. "A forceful thrust would go through this stuff. Why don't we purchase bronze cuirasses, such as they wear in Ionia, or those Persian mailshirts with iron scales?"
"Because we are riding, little man, and on ordinary horses, not Nisaean giants. If we load ourselves down with the whole bronzen panoply of a Greek spearman, our beasts will founder from the weight."
By the time that Bessas completed his purchases with a pair of light leather bucklers and some extra arrows, and his cuirass had been altered to fit his huge torso, the afternoon had fled. Back at barracks, as Myron prepared to write up the log for the day, he asked:
"How much more purchasing must we do?"
"Tomorrow morn we shall try the horse mart for mounts. That leaves but a few items of harness, a tent, and the like."
"Will you buy a slave or hire guides or men-at-arms?"
"Time enough for such fripperies in Egypt. Until we get there, we can find our way by asking. I have been on many such journeys—as the time my half brother Moccus and I beat our way across Hind—and I have seen what happens. The leader, too proud to saddle and feed and water his beasts, procures a groom. Then, misliking cold victuals, he must needs have a cook; and a body slave to brush his garments and shine his shoes; and a woman to keep him warm at night.
"Then he must hire guards to protect these unfighters. That means more animals, and they in turn require more grooms, who need camp men to care for their tents and baggage, who require more men-at-arms to guard them, and so on until we have a small army, straggling over the countryside at a snail's pace, getting lost, taking sick, robbing the natives, and being attacked by them in turn. By keeping our numbers down to the twain of us, we shall move far faster and more cheaply. Speaking of cost, have you found a way to get us our money at lower interest?"
Myron had to admit that he had not. The next morning they spent in the horse market. Here Bessas, who usually claimed to know and care nothing about trade and money, revealed himself as a very sharp bargainer. When Myron twitted him, he said with a shamefaced grin:
"Oh, well, a Bactrian can trade in horses and still be deemed a gentleman."
In the end, Bessas bought two horses—a powerful destrier named Vayu for himself and a smaller Cilician bay for his companion—and two mules to bear their belongings. "How is our store of darics holding out?" he asked.
Myron did a hasty computation. "They are half consumed."
"Plague! Riches certainly fly away, as the eagle flies into the heavens. We had better get some more money, if we must needs rob the temple of Marduk."
They made a few more purchases during the afternoon. Bessas, for instance, bought a silver whistle to hang around his neck. "It utters as loud a blast as a trumpet," he said, "with far less bulk."
Every coin had to be weighed out. Change was made in bits of silver, copper, and lead: rings, bars, squares, and irregular lumps, all of which had to be weighed in their turn; for the Babylonians had not yet come to the use of small coins.
Their last stop was at the saddler's shop of Shamu and Zeria. This was a large establishment, selling not only bits, bridles, and saddles, but also chariots and wagons. Horse trappings, smelling of freshly oiled leather and gleaming with polished bronze, hung from the walls.
Sounds of carriage-making came from the rear. A stout, blue-eyed man with a cheerful round face took them in charge.
"Why, if you go to Egypt, do you not drive instead of riding?" he said. "We could build you our special chariot with an attachable trailer, ideal for such journeys. We made one for Lord Masdaeus last year, and he will tell you how well it has pleased him."
"We lack time for the filling of such an order," said Bessas.
"Well then, we have a harmanaxa of a late model, repossessed from an owner who could not pay for—"
"A woman's wagon?" said Bessas in tones of deep scorn. "Do you take me for a dotard who can no longer sit a horse?"
"Nay, sir, your slave thought no such thing. My reasons are practical, to wit: that a horse can pull twice the load on wheels that it can bear on its back. So you could thus save the price of an extra horse to count against the cost of the vehicle. Also, you could go all day at a trot ..."
Bessas and the man fell into a long argument about horses, mules, and asses, and the proper loading and harness for each under every condition. At last Bessas said:
"You seem to know a thing or two about this business, my friend. Who are you?"
"Your servant is Daniel bar-Malko, once of Qadesh but now master wainwright for Shamu and Zeria."
When Bessas and Myron made themselves known, the latter said: "Your carriage is an attractive idea, Master Daniel, but I fear me the roads would not allow it. The postal people inform me that there is no paving beyond Kounaxa, only tracks in soft sand. Also, they say that some of the roads in Phoenicia are impassable to wheels because they go up and down the faces of crags by means of stone steps. We should need, instead of horses, a team of trained eagles, like those which bore aloft the flying throne of King Usan."