A Reluctant Queen (30 page)

“Bloodsuckers,” Mardonius repeated with contempt.

The horse, a sturdy hill pony, pulled up when it was still some twenty feet away. The rider, a swarthy-skinned man with a smile like a knife, said, “It will cost you twenty golden archers to cross the pass.”

“Twenty archers!”
Cambyses was livid. “Your usual fee is ten.”

The man’s smile never wavered. “The Great King is rich and we are poor. He can spare twenty archers.”

Cambyses, who had already seen what he needed to see, said grimly, “He may be able to afford it but he is not going to pay it. My company is turning around and going back to Susa.”

“As you wish.” The man’s dark face wore an expression of infinite disdain. “You will pay tolls for the passes on your way back, however.”

“I have already paid the toll to use those passes.”

“And you used them. If you want to use them again, you must pay again.”

“I paid enough to use them twice!”

Bushy black eyebrows rose in amazement. “Did we say that the price covered two passings?”

“I gave you the customary price for two passings.”

“Perhaps the toll collector neglected to tell you that the price has gone up.”

Cambyses was so angry he could hardly speak. “I will not pay you any more money.”

“Then you cannot use our passes.” Casually, the Mardian picked his teeth.

This insult was the final straw for Mardonius. “You filthy, snot-dripping bloodsucker, get out of my sight before I sully my sword with your blood!” His hand, opening and closing, hovered dangerously above his sheathed weapon. For the first time in the encounter, the Mardian looked uncertain.

“You heard the lord,” Cambyses snarled. “Get out of here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the Mardian turned his pony and galloped back the way he had come.

“Scum,” Cambyses said.

“They need to be taught a lesson,” Mardonius said.

Still scowling, Cambyses nodded. He blew out through his nose, as if trying to expel the remnants of his temper, and said, “Let’s go.”

Mardonius stared in astonishment as Cambyses began to turn his horse. “You aren’t going back?”

“Of course I’m going back. I have the information I was told to get.”

“But what about these Mardians! You can’t just let them think that they bested us.”

“I have orders to obey,” Cambyses said.

Mardonius suddenly whirled his own horse so that he faced the regiment, which was one of the most elite in all the cavalry. “Are we Achaemenids to be bested by a horde of dirty Mardians?” he shouted.

It needed no more to stoke the fire of fierce clan pride. The men had heard the exchange between their leaders and the outlaw, and they were outraged. They shouted back at Mardonius now, some raising their fists, others raising their swords.

“Let’s ride through that pass and stuff it in their faces!” someone yelled.

Others took up the battle cry, and before Cambyses could stop them, the men began to gallop their horses toward the entrance of the treacherous gorge. Mardonius galloped with them, shouting as loudly as the rest. Cambyses struggled to contain his horse, to hold back from the charge so that he could secure the lives of the shepherds, who had been traveling at the cavalry’s rear.

The horsemen were halfway through the pass when the first rocks came smashing down. There was no precision in the way the Mardians threw, but the bounding, crushing, erratic shower of stone produced instant chaos in the pass. The horsemen were totally without protection; animals and riders went down under the relentless granite fusillade. Screams went up from men and beasts, and still the rocks rained down. Cambyses looked with horror at the scene before him, at the mangled bloody confusion of flailing hooves and limbs that choked the pass, and felt sicker than he had ever felt in a battle.

“God of the sky, what am I going to tell the king?”

It took Cambyses weeks to make it back to Susa, with the remnant of his once-proud regiment trailing behind him. The king received him in his office, the very place where he had issued the orders not to enter the pass. Cambyses did his best to keep his voice level as he recounted what had happened to one of the most elite regiments in the king’s cavalry. He finished, “Mardonius fired them up, my lord. They charged before I could do anything to stop them.”

The king’s face looked bleak and hard. “How many men did you lose?”

Cambyses gritted his teeth and told him. Ahasuerus’ silence was more than intimidating now. It was scary. At last he said, “I did not tell you to take Mardonius.”

Cambyses fully realized that this had been his biggest mistake. He tried to explain. “He demanded to come and I did not feel that I could refuse him, my lord. He is a Grand Marshal, after all.”

More silence from the king.

Cambyses said a little desperately, “Mardonius survived the attack, my lord. He is hurt, but we managed to get him back to Susa.”

From the king’s expression, Cambyses understood that Ahasuerus would have been far happier to hear of his uncle’s demise.

“I am sorry, my lord,” he said. “I did the best that I could. I am sorry it was not enough.”

“He acted entirely contrary to my orders.” Ahasuerus was furious, and Cambyses could not blame him.

“I told him that, my lord. I told him that my orders were to scout the pass and not provoke the Mardians.” He added one more time, knowing it was futile since his career was in ashes, “I am sorry.”

Ahasuerus stood and picked up his hat from the elegant desk he had been sitting behind. His mouth set into a thin line as he said, “Thanks to this debacle, I have reason to strip Mardonius of his military rank. It is a great pity that so many men had to die for such a thing.”

“Yes, my lord.” Cambyses bowed his head.

“But you did bring me some shepherds?”

“Yes, my lord.” Cambyses’ head came up. “I brought you two handfuls of shepherds whose flocks regularly graze the mountains that flank the Royal Road. And I made certain they are not Mardians.”

There was a sharp line between Ahasuerus’ brows. “Mardians don’t need to graze sheep. They have found an easier way to earn their living.”

“They have grown unbelievably arrogant, my lord. In order to get my wounded back to Susa, I had to pay them one hundred golden archers.”

Ahasuerus’ eyes widened with shock. Then he said, “Well, now they will have to deal with me.”

At those words, spoken in that quiet tone, a chill ran up and down Cambyses’ spine. Suddenly, and for no logical reason, he was convinced that the king would do it. Even Darius had backed away from the Mardians, but Ahasuerus would beat them.

“I would have liked to go with you,” he said impulsively.

Thoughtful gray-green eyes regarded him for a long assessing minute. Then Ahasuerus said, “Why wouldn’t you go with me?”

Caught up in that gaze, Cambyses felt his breath begin to come faster. He said with difficulty, “I failed you, my lord. I did not think that you would trust me again.”

Ahasuerus looked at the hat in his hands. “Your mistake was in allowing my uncle to accompany you, not in the way you handled the rest of your mission.”

Cambyses swallowed. The palms of his hands were wet with sweat. The king asked, “Have you learned from that mistake, Cambyses?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then I do not think we need to discuss this any longer.” Ahasuerus fitted the high cidaris onto his head. “You may return to your duties.”

“I . . .” Cambyses took a deep breath and tried again. “Thank you, my lord.”

Ahasuerus nodded. The young captain prostrated himself reverently before he backed out of the room.

The following day Ahasuerus went riding, and on his way back to the palace he paid an unannounced visit to his uncle’s home in Susa. Mardonius was in bed, but his servants admitted the king.

Ahasuerus stood in the shadows inside the door of his uncle’s room, trying to get his temper under control. This man had been his enemy ever since he was a child, and now Ahasuerus was going to destroy him. The next few minutes would feel very good.

Mardonius was propped up against his pillows but he looked terrible. When he saw the king in the door he said in a harsh voice, “Forgive me if I cannot greet you properly, my lord.”

Ahasuerus crossed the floor toward his uncle’s bed. The shutters were closed for warmth and the overhead lamp had been lit. It swung gently from its ceiling chain as the king passed under it. He reached Mardonius’ side and said, his voice unusually clipped, “Others were not so lucky. They died in the Persian Gates because of you.”

Mardonius’ face was bruised and drawn with pain, but his eyes flashed defiance. “You are wrong. It was the Mardians who killed them, not I.”

Utter contempt surged through Ahasuerus.
He is like a worm under my foot
, he thought. “What would it take, I wonder, for you to admit that something is your fault? For you to take responsibility for your own actions?”

“My life has not been as easy as yours, Nephew. My father worshipped you almost from the day that you were born. Nothing was too good for his royal grandson. He had no thought for me, his own son. Everything was for you, the beautiful Ahasuerus.”

Abruptly the heat of contempt and disgust left Ahasuerus, leaving him cool and in command of himself. “My own father certainly did not worship me. Darius thought far more highly of you, and of Xerxes, than he ever did of me. He appointed you his Grand Marshal, Mardonius. He gave you command of half his army. And you bungled it—as you have bungled everything you ever set your hand to.”

His uncle’s fists clenched on the bedcover and his face twisted with fury. “Darius was a greater soldier than you will ever be, and he trusted me. It is you who are the bungler, Ahasuerus. You fear taking on the Greeks. You have made Persia a laughingstock to the world.”

The hotter his uncle became, the colder Ahasuerus felt. “I have been reluctant to take on the Greeks with my father’s incompetent commanders in charge. However, I am about to get rid of the most incompetent of them all. You are dismissed from your position as Grand Marshal, Mardonius. In fact, you are dismissed from the army and the court as well.”

“What?” Mardonius stared incredulously. When he realized that Ahasuerus was serious, he screamed, “You can’t do this to me!”

Ahasuerus raised his brows. “I just have.”

“I have my own following,” Mardonius threatened. “They won’t stand for this.”

“Your following consists of Greek exiles who hate Athens and want to use Persia to get revenge. Your other cronies, Smerdis and Teresh, are dead. You have no following, Uncle.”

“If I leave court, I will take Xerxes with me,” Mardonius threatened.

“That will be his choice to make.”

Mardonius pounded his fist upon the bed. “Gods! Why did Darius name you?
Why?
”

“Because, despite his paternal faults, Darius was a king. Once you have recovered from your injuries, Uncle, you will remove yourself from Susa.”

Mardonius opened his mouth to protest again, looked into Ahasuerus’ eyes, and fell silent.

“Very wise,” Ahasuerus said, his words dropping like chunks of ice. He turned and walked to the door, paused for a moment, then pushed it open with the flat of his hand. Without a backward glance, the king walked out.