Arslan set down his spoon. “Narses, I ask you as well. Help me, along with Dariun.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but…”
“Then how about this? In exchange for your allegiance, I will pay you adequate compensation.”
“When you say compensation, do you mean giving me dinars like the shah?”
“No. I don’t think loyalty can be bought with coin.”
“Then rank, perhaps? A position like framadar?”
Narses showed no interest at all. His face made it clear he had no intention of being bought by wealth or status.
“Neither. When I drive off the barbarians and become shah of Pars, I will appoint you court painter. What do you think?”
Narses stared at the prince with his mouth agape. He was genuinely caught off guard. After a few seconds of silence came a low, amused laugh. Something in the air seemed to loosen.
“I like it. Better than I expected,” Narses muttered to himself, then turned a triumphant look toward his friend. “Did you hear that, Dariun? His Highness shows true magnanimity of a ruler. It shows a depth of spirit utterly beyond yours, a man doomed to a miserable life untouched by art.”
“Leave me out of it. If I am to live a miserable life anyway, I would at least prefer it have nothing to do with your art.” Dariun turned to the prince. “Your Highness, making this man a court painter would leave a stain on the cultural history of Pars. Making him a dabir or framadar shows sound judgment as a ruler, but a court painter of all things?”
“It’s fine, Dariun. I would rather have Narses paint me alive than have some famous Lusitanian painter paint my corpse. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dariun fell silent again.
Narses clapped his hands in delight. “Your Highness, it seems Dariun does not wish to die, but also does not wish to be painted by me. That alone makes me want to accept your proposal.” Then his expression turned serious. “I cannot simply stand by while the Lusitanians trample our land. I may need to lend you my assistance. But as I said last night, I am still under Shah Andragoras’ disfavor, so Your Highness may suffer his displeasure as well. Would that still be acceptable?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Very well. I will serve you, then. Though I must say, I am not pleased to have been caught in Dariun’s scheme.” Narses gave a light laugh, as if he’d made up his mind.
Elam leaned toward his master. “May I come with you, Master Narses?”
Narses groaned in thought, unable to decide on the spot. “I have an acquaintance in the port city of Gilan. I intend to leave you there.”
That acquaintance was a merchant who owned about ten sailing ships. If the Lusitanian army invaded, Elam could escape by sea and even flee to foreign lands. Narses said he would leave a letter and provide travel and living expenses so the boy could stay there. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
But Elam refused. He insisted he would stay with Narses.
Both Arslan and Dariun sided with the redak, so in the end, Narses gave in and decided to bring Elam along. Elam was an intelligent boy who would likely be useful in many ways, and his skill with the bow and dagger was solid. And for Arslan, who was the same age, he might become a friend he never had at court. All these factors were taken into account in the decision.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, the knights under Qaran—soaked and filthy with water, blood, mud, and humiliation—had finally managed to crawl out of the pitfall.
Needless to say, Arslan and the other three had already left. All six of the knights’ horses were gone as well. They slumped there on the floor for a while.
“Damn it. They’re not getting away,” one of them finally snarled. It was the knight whose face Narses had struck with a plate; his split lips were crusted with blood. “Strategist? Marzban? Hah! They didn’t even notice that the mountain passes down to the plains are tightly guarded by Lord Qaran’s men. Just wait. I’ll spit on their corpses before this day is over.”
“Maybe they’re confident they can break through the cordon,” another knight muttered grimly. “This is Dariun and Narses we’re talking about, after all.” After being so thoroughly outplayed, he seemed to have fallen into the habit of expecting only the worst.
After taking out their frustration by smashing whatever they could inside the lodge, the knights, not befitting their name, made their way down the mountain path on foot. Arslan’s group received this report from Elam inside a cave high in the mountains.
“Well, aren’t they a bunch of hard workers,” Narses said. “If they descend the mountain in full armor like that, they won’t reach the base today. Well, let us pray they don’t run into bears or wolves.”
Narses then explained the situation to Arslan and Dariun. If they left the mountain now, they would inevitably be caught in the cordon. So they would stay in the cave for a while and let the enemy grow suspicious. After that, Narses’s strategy would come into play.
“I would like to say that this cordon exists because Dariun did something unnecessary and alerted Qaran’s faction,” he said, “but we would have run into one sooner or later. The better approach is to turn it to our advantage.” He sounded almost pleased.
“What’s the plan?” Arslan asked.
“Concentrating the enemy forces exactly where you want them is the first principle of warfare,” Narses said, not providing a concrete answer.
No matter how great one’s martial strength might be, he added, the true value of strategy lay in securing victory before having to expend it and in avoiding unnecessary risk.
Arslan looked as though he wanted to object. “But Dariun broke through a large enemy force for my sake.”
“That was individual bravery,” Narses said flatly.
He gave Dariun a quick wink. Dariun only smiled faintly and said nothing.
“Men like Dariun appear once in a thousand. That is precisely why they are valuable. But a commander must base his strategy on the weakest soldier and still find a way to win. And if one is a king, one must devise a system in which even the least capable commander cannot lose—or better yet, avoid fighting altogether.” His voice grew more heated. This story is hosted at novelping dot com.
He gave up his life as a hermit because he was always meant to, Arslan thought.
“I say this with reluctance,” Narses continued, “but when one becomes overconfident in the strength of their troops, makes light of the enemy, and neglects to consider proper strategy, what happens when things go awry? The tragedy of Atropatene is the perfect example.”
Arslan could not disagree. He had seen it all himself on the plains of Atropatene—the bravery of the Parsian cavalry, and how completely it had all been rendered meaningless in the end.
“Shah Andragoras had never once been defeated in battle, even before he ascended the throne. And as his pride reached its peak, he tried to solve every problem through war, and avoided anything that could not be solved that way. He was eager to take the heads of enemy generals on the battlefield, but showed little interest in removing injustice or inequality within his own kingdom.”
Narses fixed Arslan with a deadly serious gaze. “Your Highness, if you intend to become the same kind of ruler, then I am prepared to abandon my position as court painter at any time.”
He spoke as if a retainer had the right to abandon his lord, but he had already done so three years ago. It was not an empty threat.
Arslan nodded in full agreement. The prince was by no means uncritical of his father’s rule.
Narses gave a small smile, then turned to his friend, who was silently polishing his longsword. “Dariun, if you run into Qaran, do not kill him. He likely knows something far too important. We need to make him talk.”
“Something far too important?” Arslan caught it quickly.
Narses forced a smile. “Yes, something far too important. Though at the moment I have no idea what it might be.”
Arslan nodded and looked around the cave. It was spacious enough for four men and ten horses to live comfortably, and the entrance twisted in a way that made it impossible to see inside from outside. It seemed too well-designed to be natural. Narses explained that he and Elam had dug the entrance themselves.
“You never know what may happen,” he said. “I prefer to keep multiple hiding places.”
When Arslan asked if there was perhaps another exit, Narses answered with a quiet nod. He was a very careful and thorough man, as evidenced by the trap at his mountain lodge.
Arslan could not help but think that he had gained exceptionally capable allies far beyond what his age and ability warranted. It was immensely reassuring, yet at the same time it felt almost presumptuous.
He would have to become a person worthy of Dariun’s and Narses’s loyalty.