Driven by Vengeance: A Scythian Campaign Epic
CAMPUS SCYTHII--Late Summer, 270BC
The capital of the race of gods! Glorious city, was there one like it in all the world? This was where Kolaksay, father of the Scythian race, had taken his first steps on the soil of the earth--the humble shrine of menhirs near the town's centre stood over that very spot where his holy feet first landed as he leaped from the sky, with his three treasures. It was the holiest place of worship in the entire Scythian kingdom, the centre of its religion and the spiritual heart of its people. Houses filled the space from wall to wall, and beautiful gardens planted full with vegetables and root plants, and stables that held the horses that represented the race more than perhaps its own people had. Strong stood the palisade that had repelled all enemies since it was raised in time immemorial.
King Zipoetes was well aware of the weight of history and the mandate the gods had placed on his shoulders, on his people, on his warriors. The infertile plains and barren steppes were no place for a people descended from heaven. He had made it his life's mission to lead his people, numerous and courageous as they were, to new lands, warmer lands, richer lands brimming with gold, where every room had some item of precious significance in it. No more would the Scythian kingdom be a mere steppe confederation of treated with arrogance by all its neighbours, insulted and humiliated time and again in diplomacy, incapable of punishing offenders by force of arms, scattered and uncommanded as they were, them, who had defeated Darius I with their valour and their arrows when he had come against them with his innumerable horde!
The door to Zipoetes' private study opened, his seneschal Araxes stepping out from behind it, Araxes waited patiently, quietly, by the door until Zipoetes' nod brought him the remaining ten paces to stand before his king's table, piled high with leather and parchment sheets covered in the flowing Scythian script.
'My king Zipoetes--reports from the cities of the Sarmatians, Alans and Maeotians.' Araxes remained standing until Zipoetes motioned for him to take a seat opposite him in a sturdy cushioned chair that stood before his table.
'What news? Are the roads I ordered built completed? The walls of those cities? Have they been completed?' Zipoetes' wrinkled eyes shone brightly. After he had conquered those three rival steppe nations in his youth, Zipoetes had ordered massive road-building and development programmes to commence in his fortieth year. Now, ten years on, the steppes, wild, featureless, flat, finally had for itself a network of roads like those the nations on Scythia's borders had had. A first move to show them that what they could do, the Scythian nation could, too.
'My king, yes, the roads in Sarmatia and Maeotia are completed. As the for Alans, they report that the roads there are almost completed, but it will be two more months before they can join those to the roads in Sarmatia and Maeotia. However, the military roads you wanted built, those are completed. There is one from Tanais southwest towards the Bosphorus, one from Campus Sarmatae westwards to the lands of the Venedae, and one from Campus Alanni northwards towards the Saka. It would seem that all is in readiness for the armies you have prepared.' Araxes handed over the sheaves of parchmnt and thin leather that contained the news he had just related. Zipoetes took them and put them to a side on another pile of writings indistinguishable from any of the others. He was not one for reading long reports from Scythian bureaucrats who were more concerned now about parchment than charging and enemy in joyous battle.
'As for the walls, Zipoetes my king, they are not yet completed. But another month or two, and they will be. You did order, Zipoetes my king, that priority be given to the roads. But yes, a month or two, and you shall receive reports that they are completed.'
Zipoetes shook his head. 'No need. In a month or two I shall not be here. You will govern our homeland in my stead while I seek glory for the Scythian kingdom to the south. The king blew out his golden mustaches irritably. 'Two months. Well, no one's about to attack those cities in the next two months, the walls can wait. The time has come to move. Send the order to begin the port at the coast that we discussed some time back. Have diplomats sent out to sign trade agreements with the states to the south, west, east. We will grow richer and more powerful, the Allfather willing.
'Summon messengers! I will write letters that they must deliver to my sons governing the provinces. To Belnirari, governor of Maeotia and Sarmatia, to Partatua my son, governor of Alanna. Send out messengers also to find the free company from Tarok. Those mercenaries are in the vicinity of the city, I know, and I would have their commander see me. I wish to hire him and his horse archers for the coming war. And--' Zipoetes rummaged among his papers, picking up a rough leather sheet with a grunt of triumph accompanied by the precipitate rustle of that pile of papers cascading onto the floor. With an exasperated sigh Zipoetes handed out the sheet to Araxes.
'Have this copied and posted or announced in every town and village in the province.'
Araxes perused the decree, looked up at Zipoetes, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. 'By midautumn?'
Zipoetes nodded. 'No later. I've waited this long for revenge--no later, for I am old.'
Reply With Quote
Interesting story.
Bookmarks