Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

‘Then we’d better move out,’ I said. It would be no good if we were followed all the way to our interception of Shahin.

It was another sore-backside night. You don’t get speed in the mountains by pushing horses into a gallop. Instead, you keep moving. Rado was taking us round the lower slopes of the mountain I’d seen on my map. I did suggest that going higher would shorten the journey. But that would take us through more of the scrubby wooded areas that both he and Eboric insisted were best avoided by night. Long before morning, they were agreed, we’d come to another of the upland plains. This should let us move quickly forward to a chain of hills and then to the middle point of the Larydia Pass. If they caught sight of us, there was no doubt the Persians would follow us all the way. The point was to keep out of sight while we kept moving. These Persians were the highlanders we’d seen three nights before. They were at least as good as Rado in the mountains. But he was sure we were ahead of them. So long as we weren’t seen, there was a limit to how far they’d move from base. Eventually, they’d have to go back for further orders. I suspected they’d ask these of Shahrbaraz. I also suspected they were too valuable as scouts for even Chosroes to have them boiled in lead.

We reached the plain around the midnight hour. We’d spent what seemed an age pressing forward and mostly upwards, dark and jagged rocks all about us. Then as abruptly as if we were passing from one room to another, it was quickly downhill to another and more immense flatness. It went on seemingly forever. In daylight, it might be only twenty miles across. In the light of an uncertain moon, it could have been the whole world laid out before us.

We quickened our pace along a path that ran reasonably straight to the north-east. We were passing by more little villages and larger settlements. All were in darkness. None seemed, though, to have been drawn into the tide of blood that Chosroes had decreed for the Greek inhabitants along his line of march. Either this side of the mountain was too far away for the tide of blood to have reached, or we’d finally come to a district where the new law was in force. It was probably both. Unlike those we’d passed by earlier, these settlements were all surrounded by earth walls.

Riding behind me, the boys were having another whispered conversation of jokes about nothing I could understand. Suddenly, they stopped moving. It took me a moment to bring my own horse under control. When I turned, they were a dozen yards behind me and listening hard.

Rado slid off his horse and put his ear to the ground. He looked up at me. ‘They’re after us!’ he said. I got off my horse and led it back to where he was still crouching. I looked along the way we’d come. The path shone pale in the moonlight. I could see all the way to the looming blackness of the mountain we’d left far behind. I held my breath and listened. Nothing but the distant howling of wolves carried on the breeze.

Rado shook his head. ‘I can hear them,’ he said.

Eboric nodded. He pointed diagonally from where we’d come. ‘They took the longer path round the mountain,’ he said.

I held my breath again and looked and looked. I looked till spots danced in front of my eyes. Then, just as I was about to turn round and suggest their nerves were overexcited, I saw a very distant glitter. It was the briefest flash of something. I might have put it down to my own nerves or to some trick of the moonlight. But the boys were already taking the horses away from the bright glow of the path.

My heart was beating fast. ‘Do you think they’ve seen us?’ I asked.

‘Hard to say,’ Rado whispered. He looked up at the moon. ‘To be sure, though, we’ll be seen once the dawn is up.’ He jumped back on his horse. ‘We’ll have to risk a canter along the side of the path. If they haven’t seen us yet, they might give up. They are a very long way out from base.’

Once more the leadership passed openly to Rado. Without him in front, it was plain I’d have trouble controlling my speed. Away from the path much of the ground was low-grade turf. What wasn’t spongy puddles was mostly flat stones or low clumps of bramble, invisible in the moonlight. Even at this speed, in the dark, there was a risk that one of the horses would stumble. I gave up on any appearance of controlling my horse and let it tag along behind Rado and Eboric. To our right, the path snaked forward into a distance without obvious end. Looking left, there was the darkness of woods. But they must have been miles away — miles across unknown ground.

Eboric fell back and was beside me. ‘They’re on to us,’ he said with low urgency. ‘Rado thinks the only option is to go back on the path and make a dash for it.’

I looked round and nearly shat myself. What had been the faintest and most ambiguous glitter was now the swift approach of a dozen riders. They were moving across the plain with long and easy strides, and weren’t above a mile away. The moon was behind them but I could see its stray reflections on their helmets and mailed breastplates. They weren’t coming straight at us, but were moving in a line that suggested they’d try to block our path. I looked behind. So far, it was just these pursuers. I grinned at the boy with an optimism I didn’t feel. The only thing in our favour was that we had no weight of armour to hold us back when it came to the chase.

I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I was never an instinctual horseman. Killing, lying, scholarship, ruling — in all these and more, I’ve adorned three generations. The bond a rider has with his horse, though, wasn’t something I had from birth, or ever managed to acquire. Give me a fast ship any day, if there’s need to get about in a hurry. Even so, I kept up with the boys. I pushed my head down and pounded forward across the firm mud of the path. For a while, I was able to tell myself that we were travelling as fast as any Circus charioteer in full pelt. Surely we’d outrun the Persians.

But these were highland cavalry. They were men who’d done a better job of keeping their empire free of nomadic invaders than we had. If that weren’t enough, they had a king whose displeasure was best avoided. They must have looked on us as I always have on anyone who’s tried arguing theology or finance or anything else with me. They were effectively on their home ground. Doubtless, the boys could have outrun them. But that would have meant leaving me behind and I don’t believe that crossed their minds. I didn’t dare unbalance myself by twisting round to look. Instead, I could soon hear them. Closer and closer came the sound of many hooves and of jingling harness. Time, I decided, to face up to the inevitable. I had my sword handy in its saddle sheath. Armour or none, I had no doubt I could cut a few of the riders down.

‘Rado, Eboric,’ I panted, ‘I command you to get out of here. Ride like the wind. I’ll hold them off.’

I might as well have spoken in Persian. ‘When I turn left, follow me!’ Rado snapped. From any kind of distance, the hill had been imperceptible. But I felt the sudden lift as the horse turned upwards. It even seemed to move a little faster on the firm turf. The top of the hill was a long ridge. We turned right and continued on a narrow path. Uphill, their weight had told against the Persians and they’d fallen behind. The sound of their approach became fainter. For a while, I didn’t hear it above my own ragged breaths. But this was a trick we couldn’t play more than once. The ridge was leading gradually down and I could see no more hills. Rado had bought us a little more time. That was all.

Even on the descent, I could feel that my horse was running out of puff. The beasts Rado had chosen were bred for endurance, not sustained speed. He and Eboric were light enough, or had the riding skills, to keep going a long way yet. The Persians were heavier, but had grown up with skills I could barely imagine. For me, it was a matter of counting the yards before my horse simply stopped.