Biography:
Sometimes when a warm evening breeze blows from the west
my minds eye still travels back to that flowing mass of colour
and noise. First at a distance the faint jingling sound of bronze
halter and harness on oxen and horse, then closer; the clatter
of wagons as wheels tumble over stony ground. Heavy wagons carrying
felt ger for shelter and children whose chattering voices etched
with laughter carry on the wind. Finally into view come the horses,
many horses; not hurrying, but stopping from time to time to graze
the tall grasses. Short smooth coated yellow horses some with
foal, to the pride of their owners, for many horses makes a person
wealthy.
As the party draws closer riders wearing bright colours, their
clothing covered with plaques of precious metals that glint and
sparkle as the golden orb rises to greet the day. This is my homeland
vast grassy plains spread between the mountains and the sea bordered
by many different lands that are occupied by people speaking in
strange tongues, but that place of my youth is now just a distant
memory. The Greeks call us the people of Skythos or Scythians,
but we recognise each other by our tribal identity I am Sauromatae.
My mother had died at my birth and my father on a raid to claim
slaves and horses from a neighbouring tribe. He was struck while
fleeing with the booty; hit by a bronze arrow, but it was not
the arrowhead that killed him, it was the poisonous concoction
that armed its tip. Unfortunately he left few horses, being too
fond of hemp and kumis to tend to his daily duties, so he had
a modest burial: Being sent to the next life with just two horses
and a few essentials such as his Goryt and sword.
Despite its modest nature, his kurgan took what little wealth
we had left and my only option was to marry. The cultural laws
of our people stated that a woman could not marry until she had
killed an enemy in battle. Many years earlier even before I could
walk my father had placed me in a saddle with a bow and arrow
to hunt for hare. Now man would be my game and even though my
scalp may have ended up on another’s belt there was no fear
in my heart. With my horse galloping low and fast I bore down
upon the man until I could sweep him off his feet with my lasso,
then leaping from my mount I plunged my akinakes into his heart.
This was the moment I realised my future lay in combat not housekeeping
and that night I left for the coast carrying what little I possessed.
My future was set when some months later I landed at Ephesus.
My horse paid for passage on a Phoenician cargo vessel carrying
iron goods from Colchis to Caria home of the Leleges people where
the captain would refill the boat with amphora of wine and oil
before returning, and my plan was to travel on to Halicarnassus
where it is said you can still hear the hoof beats emanating from
my own country. The captain took little persuasion in carrying
the sort of passenger who could help guard against boarding by
men belonging to the tyrant Histiaeus whose triremes were said
to prowl the waterways seizing all ships that attempted to sail
through the Bosporus unless they agreed to serve him. Luckily
the only boats we encountered were other trade vessels and we
were soon safely disembarking, which was good as I proved to be
a poor sailor.
