Re: The New Alexandros
First Command
“Euergentes Alexandros! You are the spitting image of your father!”
A hand slapped me on the back, far weaker than the blows that Lysandros would have placed. The frail hand that administered the slap was tied to a frail arm, then a body that seemed to let its armor hang, instead of wearing the protection. The eyes, though... the eyes were sharp, vigilant, watching.
I looked into the old eyes of Antiochos Arrihides, and saw what I expected: the hunger of an ambitious sycophant who was far past his prime. The man was past sixty years of age. He would have been twenty, at least, when my father was born. Unlike me, a distant and far cousin to the Pharoah of Egypt, King of Asia and Macedonia, Antiochos was only a first cousin by marriage.
“And you appear to be in health as well, noble Antiochos Arrihides,” I bowed. Today was not the day to pick a fight with the old man. He might have delusions as to how much power his familial proximity to our great king gave him, but I wanted nothing to mar this day. It was supposed to be my day to shine, to rid the western desert of this problem that Antiochos had spent the better part of a year chasing.
I needed to begin from the start asserting my control, and I knew Antiochos was going to fight as much as he could. No sixty year old veteran of the wars, who had ridden against Seleucus himself, it was rumored, wanted to be shoehorned under the command of a sixteen year old brat straight from the tutor’s.
“What are the disposition of my forces?” I asked, probing to see how deep the resentment would be.
“Well, um... ah...” the old man’s voice creaked. Ah yes... the resentment was there. I could tell from the delay. “We have some local tribal forces as our foot... Beduoin barbarians mostly,” he almost spat the word out. “We have your Thessalanians, of course, as well as a tribe of Numidians that has agreed to help.” He sighed again. “Call it around 3,000 foot and five hundred horse.”
“And the strength of this...” I waved my hand about disdainfully, “’Captain Khu’ we keep hearing about in Alexandria?” For being a backwater ruffian, he’d caused enough of a fuss. Then again, anyone who loots four royal caravans in a row and, according to undoubtedly wild rumor, possesses followers in the thousands was bound to get attention.
I should have known Antiochos would not know. The old man had spent three years trying to chase down this desert bandit, with no success. Nonetheless, I was surprised when he merely shrugged his shoulders.
“He is a bandit,” the old man shrugged, “surely nothing for someone of your skills to worry over.”
I must have noticeably bristled, because Antiochos recoiled. The nerve of the man, to talk to me in such a dismissive manner!
“Bandits can have teeth,” I replied crossly. After all, the great King Darius assumed Alexandros was nothing more than a heady bandit. Since Antiochos obviously had no clue where this ruffian lay, I would have to figure this three year puzzle out on my own. I remembered back to the lessons old Parmenios had given me on war.
We’re in the desert, and what do all people, soldiers or civilian like, need?
Water.
“Lysandros, how much of the local language do you know?” I didn’t trust Antiochos to do much anything right now.
“Not a bit, sir,” he grinned at using the pronoun, “but I’m sure I can scrap up a translator or two.”
“Good. Ask them about groups of oases or watering holes clustered together. Or any single massive oasis or water hole. If we follow the water, we’ll find our Captain Khu.”
“Book-learnin’ does pay off, I guess,” Lysandros flashed me another smile as he saluted. I didn’t bother looking at Antiochos, so I missed his scowling fury.
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Re: The New Alexandros
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