The Lost Army (36 page)

‘Nothing. But on that day, remember my words.’

I stood there next to him, watching the moon rise in the sky, listening to the racket coming from camp, the girls’ squeals of delight, the calls of the sentries that echoed from one hill to the next, repeating the names of their comrades. They called to each other to ward off the darkness; so that the invisible, fleeting phantoms of the night would be warned that those obstinate men would not be caught slumbering.

The celebrating finally quietened, then died down completely. When silence had descended on the camp, the trumpet blared a solitary note and the second guard shift arrived.

Xeno took me to the tent and made love to me passionately but in complete silence. Not a sound, not a sigh. He could hear my words echoing like a gloomy prophecy and he had no words of this own to counter them, not even words of love.

Later I saw him get up. He took a silver cup full of wine to the banks of the river we’d crossed. He offered up a libation to the swirling divinity by pouring out the wine, because that day he had spilled blood and contaminated its pure waters.

The river which was as wild as a raging bull was called the Centrites, and the next day we finally left it behind us and began to cross the high plain which rose higher and higher, but very slowly, almost imperceptibly, until you realized all at once that the air had grown colder and thinner and that your breathing had quickened.

Even Lystra could walk now without much suffering. The ground was covered with dry grass that the flocks had grazed on, turning it into a thick, even carpet. Its hue was a yellowish-grey that varied with the changing light. Here and there were long stalks of oats with their tiny ears that shone like gold, and another plant with seeds the shape of little silver disks, like the coins used by the Greeks. The column advanced at a quick rate, and we travelled all day, from morning to dusk, without danger of any sort emerging. Xeno and Lycius kept the area under surveillance with their scouts on horseback, galloping back and forth from the van to the rearguard to forestall any possible attacks.

The landscape changed continuously. Looming before us were craggy folds of rock, soaring mountain chains, valleys as deep as gorges which the sunlight sculpted into dramatic forms. The days were growing shorter, the light was redder and more oblique, the sky bluer and almost cloudless.

The warriors explored the folds and crevices with their eyes as we climbed; never before had anyone of their race seen such wonders. The march had become so easy, peaceful, even pleasant, that I began to hope that we would soon reach our destination.

The sea.

An internal sea, to the north, enclosed by land. A sea that hosted many Greek cities, with ports and ships, from which we’d be able to get anywhere.

Even home.

Xeno had told me this, and Xeno knew everything about land and sea, mountains and rivers. He knew all of the ancient legends and the words of wise men and he wrote them down. He was always writing, every night by lamplight.

After several days we reached the source of the Tigris and I sat down next to the small stream that gushed from a cliff, as clean as the air after a storm. The river was like a child here: lively, reckless, fickle. But I knew what he would be like as an adult because I’d seen him: enormous, placid, majestic, so strong and so powerful that he could carry whole ships on his back, as well as those strange, round boats shaped like baskets.

I washed my face and legs in the freezing water and it gave me a magnificent sensation. I felt invigorated. I told Lystra to wet herself: it would give her child strength and bring her luck as well, because that water kept millions of people alive, giving them refreshment and sustenance, irrigating their fields so they could have bread, filling the fishermen’s nets with fish. What a mysterious miracle sparkled in that stream, sang between the rocks and over the shiny black sand! I drank long gulps of water so pure that I could feel it flowing in me like my life’s blood. Water must have been like this everywhere the day that the world was born.

Then we crossed another river that coursed over a vast high plain strewn with many villages. Here messengers reached us, sent by the Persian governor, saying that he had hired interpreters and wanted to speak with our commanders.

As soon as Xeno told me, I begged him not to go, but he just smiled. ‘You really think we’re so stupid? Don’t you think we’ve learned our lesson? Rest easy that we won’t let anything happen this time.’

And so the entire army went to the meeting, because the vast plain allowed it. Drawn up as in the days of Clearchus’s command: in five rows behind a front two thousand paces long, in full battle gear, shields polished to a high sheen, crested helmets, greaves gleaming, the points of their spears seeming to pierce the sky.

Sophos, Xanthi, Timas, Cleanor and Agasias, on horseback, within calling distance of each other. Sophos slightly in front of the other four.

Ten paces behind them, in the spaces between them, were Xeno, Lycius, Archagoras, Aristonymus . . . and Neon.

Behind them, a small cavalry division, no less impressive than their commanders.

Facing them was a large contingent of Armenian troops, perhaps even those we had fought at the Centrites. At their head was the satrap, Tiribazus, in command of a magnificent cavalry squadron. His black beard was carefully curled and he wore a soft mitre on his head and a golden sword at his side.

The interpreter came forward. He spoke perfect Greek, a sign that he came from one of the cities on the shore of the northern sea. It must not be so distant, I thought hopefully.

‘I speak in the name of Tiribazus,’ he said, ‘satrap of Armenia and the eye of the Great King. He is the man who lifts the Great King to his horse. Tiribazus wishes to tell you this: do not burn the villages, do not burn the houses, take only the food that you need and we will allow you to pass. You will not suffer further attacks.’

Sophos turned to consult his senior officers. He did not speak, but shot an inquiring glance to each of his men in turn. Each one of them gave a nod, and Sophos turned back towards the interpreter. ‘You will tell Tiribazus, satrap of Armenia, eye of the Great King and his personal attendant, that his proposal is agreeable to us and we mean to stay true to our pledge. He will have nothing to fear from us, but should he fail to respect our pact, he should take a good look at the men lined up here and remember that all of those who have attacked them have suffered a harsh punishment at their hands.’

The interpreter nodded and made a bow, then went to report to the satrap. He soon gave another nod to indicate that the agreement was valid, and the Greek army made a perfectly synchronized wheel to the right to face north. The Armenians did not make a move, but later the scouts told us that they were following us at a distance of about ten stadia. They evidently didn’t trust us.

We proceeded in this way for several days, climbing higher and higher with the Armenians still at our backs. One morning I woke up at dawn and the vista that opened before my eyes was spectacularly beautiful. The mountainous landscape stretched out all around me as far as the eye could see, but looming over the infinite ridges and peaks were three or four snowy white summits which stood out against the intensely blue sky. For a brief moment they were struck by the light of the sun and they lit up like crystals, like precious gems, sparkling over the vast mountain chain still immersed in darkness.

They shone with a rosy colour, so intense and clear that they seemed to be made of some heavenly substance unknown on earth. Titanic jewels carved by the hands of the gods! I noticed that there was also a group of young warriors contemplating the spectacle with the same wonder and admiration. Xeno was still sleeping, exhausted by the strain of ensuring safe conditions for the army’s onward journey. The solitary gems of the land of Armenia would not make their way into his diary, into the dense, regular script that filled his scroll, which was becoming more voluminous day by day.

When he awoke I pointed them out to him, but the magic had vanished. He told me, ‘They’re simply mountains covered with ice. We have some in Greece as well: Olympus, Parnassus, Pelion and Ossa. But they’re certainly not as high as these. The ice reflects the light as only a precious stone can. You might see it happen, if you’re lucky.’ But his tone held no enthusiasm or expectation.

One evening we arrived at a group of villages clustered around a large palace. Each one of the villages had been built on a rise, with thatched-roof houses made of stone. A wisp of white smoke rose from each of the chimney tops. The setting sun accentuated the smoke rising dense through the cold air, and made it take on a pink glow. There were hundreds of houses, scattered over a dozen little hills on the high plain. There was no sign of life coming from the palace.

The soldiers moved in to find shelter in all those houses and they found them full of every kind of treat: wheat, barley, almonds, nuts, raisins, aged wine that was strong and sweet, salted or smoked mutton, beef and goats’ meat. It was a land of plenty.

I stayed with Xeno and his servants in a thick-walled building standing at the edge of the first hill we’d encountered. It was obviously used for storage and drying meat, but it was cosy and Xeno preferred it because it had a hearth and we didn’t have to share it with anyone else.

I lit a fire and cooked our dinner. I’ll never forget the sense of comfort, rest and tranquillity that I got from that simple dinner next to the man I loved in such a marvellous land. I had never imagined that such a magical place could exist. And then . . .

It snowed!

I had never seen it and I didn’t know what it was. The merchants who crossed Mount Taurus in the winter had often described it to us when we were children, but there was nothing that could have prepared me for what I was seeing with my own eyes. I had opened the door and my surprise was so great that I was struck dumb. The reflection of the flames in the hearth radiated outside and revealed an apparition of astonishing beauty: the manifestation of the greatness of nature and of the gods who inhabit this world and take on changing forms with the passage of the seasons.

Innumerable flakes of white fell from the sky in a soft, gentle dance, swirling through the air and alighting on the ground, which grew whiter and whiter with every passing instant. A light, downy carpet like the fleece of a newborn lamb. The smoke rising into the night sky from the chimneys in all the other houses seemed alive with the spirit of the flames inside. The snow, which was falling thicker and faster now, even took on a reddish cast as it tumbled in front of the smoke, before returning to its immaculate white nature. If filled me with a sense of dazed wonder, so deep and so vibrant that I can’t describe it and I can’t even recall it properly.

Even though it was night there was a barely perceptible light in the air – a soft, diffuse, omnipresent light, free of shadows – which would let you walk without losing your way, distinguishing each shape, each presence. It was the white flakes that had imprisoned the light inside and radiated it outwards from the ground and the sky.

I don’t know why, but I found myself thinking that only Menon’s immaculate cloak could blend into that whiteness, leaving no sign of his passage but his silent, empty footsteps. Footsteps that I could see . . . or couldn’t see, had perhaps only imagined.

I could hear a dog barking; the howling of his wild brother answered him from the forests on the mountainsides, which had been transformed into slumbering white giants. I could hear the voices of our soldiers, the sentries calling out to each other, and then nothing.

The whole world was white, both earth and sky, and everything was swallowed up into that immeasurable silence.

I slept deeply, next to the burning fire. Xeno had found a big log that burned all night long, filling the room with a mild, agreeable warmth. Maybe it was the quiet and the soft, comforting atmosphere that helped me sleep, maybe it was knowing that I’d done the right thing when I chose to run off with Xeno. I’d lived intensely, seen enchanted landscapes and visions out of a dream. I’d experienced violence and delirium along with moments of aching sweetness.

Xeno was warm, too, next to me, and I could feel him moving now and then. Once he opened his eyes and his hand sought the hilt of his sword before his body relaxed again and drifted back into sleep. Outside under an awning, his horse Halys let his presence be known with snorts and soft neighing or by dragging his hoofs over the frozen soil. He was a proud, powerful animal, and he’d often saved Xeno from mortal danger. I loved him too, and in the middle of the night I brought him a blanket to protect him from the chill. He rubbed his snout against my shoulder: that was his way of thanking me.

The next morning we were awakened by an incredible din outside and Xeno rushed out with his sword in hand, but it was a false alarm. Our men were outside playing like children in the snow: they were tossing it at each other, burying their comrades in it, pressing it between their hands into balls which they threw or fired from their slings.

The inhabitants of the village had come out of their houses as well, and they watched smiling as the warriors come from afar amused themselves in such an inoffensive way. Some of their own children joined the fun before their parents could stop them.

The sun was shining, just coming up over the vast snowy expanse and setting off a magic sparkling effect all over the white mantle, as if it were full of diamonds or rock crystals. At the horizon I could see in the distance, at three separate points, the lofty peaks struck by the rising sun, turning them red as rubies. I wondered what they would be like when we’d got far enough to see them up close. Then all at once the air was full of cries of alarm and despair. Some of the houses had caught fire.