Phiron bowed again. He was counted a handsome man, well-made and not without grace, but in the company of these two creatures he seemed a thing made out of ungainly leather and iron, stocky and solid, a rook in the company of swans. He was about to speak, but Arkamenes clapped his long, gold-skinned hands, the nails painted lilac. The doors opened again and the two Juthan bowed deep.
“Something to sustain our spirits. And quickly now.”
With great speed but no haste small tables were set up, and upon them were set trays of sweetmeats and flasks of silver and glass. On a stand to one side a crystal basin of steaming water was placed with a click, and linen towels. The Juthan left again, the doors were shut, and the smell of the food brought water to Phiron’s mouth. His breakfast had been army bread at the break of dawn, and a mug of black wine.
Arkamenes opened his arms in a gesture of inclusion. “You must forgive our squalor, but these apartments were the best the city had to offer. And we are being discreet, I believe. Even now, discretion is still called for. Tiryn, pour the general some wine. We will stand at the window, and look down on our ships.”
A momentary shock, like some frisson of life, as the female’s hand touched his, settled within his fingers a warm, smoking glass. He met her eyes for a second; she, too, was taller than he. The eyes were full of life, but closed off. Like a locked door with sounds of lovemaking behind it.
Phiron sipped his hot wine, savouring the warmth, rolling it around his tongue.
“So the fleet has assembled,” Arkamenes said, his own cup untouched. “Are they enough? Can it be done in one voyage?”
“Yes, barely. Some of the baggage animals will have to be left behind, but we can make good those losses in Tanis.”
“And what of numbers? Tell me, General, how does my army grow?”
“The contingents are assembling at Hal Goshen. The muster is to be complete six days from now. One hundred centons of fully armed Macht heavy infantry. At full strength, that would mean some ten thousand men, but most companies are somewhat below their complement. With them are some thousands of light troops, camp-followers, artisans and the like—”
“Slaves? We have plenty of those this side of the sea.”
“No, lord. Free men, for the most part at least. Many are capable warriors, but lack equipment. Traditionally, they help protect the flanks of the phalanx, and are used for scouting and raiding parties in rough terrain.”
Arkamenes stared down at his general. “All very well. But mind me, Phiron. I am not paying a great fleet to float whores across the Tanean. I trust there will be no gaggle of soldier-families trailing behind the host. These men must move fast and travel light.”
“No women, lord; that was agreed, and Pasion will see that it is so.”
“Good, good. Then it only remains for us to embark ourselves and set sail in the van of our little expedition. I have a fast galley at the wharves. We can be on the wing in an hour if needs be.”
“I have heard rumours, my lord.” Phiron sipped his hot wine. It was heavily spiced, too smooth for his liking.
“About Artaka I suppose? Yes, the province has declared for me. One of my captains holds it.
I have Tanis in the palm of my hand, general. When your men disembark, they need fear no hostile welcome. All is in hand.”
“Yes, that I had heard. But I wondered—what of your brother?”
Arkamenes’s narrow nostrils flared open wide, like those of a winded horse. “What of him?” he asked softly.
“Your flight is known to him—”
“Of course. He sent half a dozen assassins in our wake. Had it not been for my guards and old Amasis I would be dead three times over.”
“But will he contemplate a general levy, or take the field with the Household troops alone? My lord, does he know what we do here?”
Arkamenes turned away. Now he did sip his wine, as delicately as a man taking the sacrament. “It makes little odds. Once your soldiers disembark at Tanis the news will run through the Empire faster than the flux. It is almost three months’ march from Tanis to Ashur—ample time to gather whatever he thinks he needs. We will raise the provinces we march through against him. Already, I have had meetings with the elders of the Juthan. They are with us.”
“And troops, lord? What may we expect?”
Arkamenes smiled, finding his humour again. “Myriads, General. I will raise thousands to march at your side; but it is your people who will provide the core, a heart of iron. Imagine! Ten thousand of the legendary Macht, come across the sea to war, after all this time. That news will be worth half a dozen armies.”
Phiron bowed slightly, dissatisfied with his answer but knowing that none other would be forthcoming.