“I don’t see how such a system could possibly work.”
“Then come along, if you can trust Attalus not to attempt to usurp the crown while you are with us.”
“It’s not his usurping that worries me. It’s his impatience. He is likely to rush into a battle with Antigonus, and Antigonus has been doing an excellent job of rebuilding his support among the eastern satraps.”
“Then leave him firm instructions,” Eurydice said. “Philip and I will co-sign them.”
“Have you decided you trust me then, Eurydice?” Eumenes asked.
“Not entirely. But I am safe enough on the Queen, and Philip is getting better every day.”
“What?”
“They have treatments for Philip’s condition,” Roxane explained. “It’s not a cure, but they help.”
There was more discussion, but it was decided that Eumenes would be the delegate for his satrapies. He would delegate command of the army and administration of his satrapies to others.
Queen of the Sea, Athens port at Piraeus
September 20
“The meeting of the Constitutional Convention of the United Satrapies and States of the Empire will come to order,” Cleopatra said into the microphone. She spoke in Attic Greek, not Macedonian, as had become the custom of Macedonia’s upper classes. But it was a version of Greek that was rapidly becoming modified—or adulterated, some insisted—by the addition of a multitude of English loan words. More than half the words in the sentence she’d just spoken, for instance, were either completely new or had a different connotation than they had in Attic Greek.
Much like the language they had all agreed to use, a compromise had been worked out. Cleopatra would start the convention and open it up to nominations for president of the convention. Though they were more trusting of one another than they had been, neither Roxane nor Eurydice was willing to cede any advantage to the other. And president of the convention was a real advantage.
People looked around and mostly quieted, but a few continued to talk, either because they weren’t paying attention or as a snub. There were thirty-eight satrapies in Alexander’s empire, and that was including several of the Greek states as part of a single satrapy.
At the same time, some of the satraps held more than one satrapy. Eumenes was satrap of Cappadocia, Paphlagonia, Greater Phrygia, Pamphylia and Lycia, the last three of which had been assigned to Antigonus at the Partition at Babylon.
Antigonus had sent Arrhidaeus as his representative to the convention, and was claiming the same satrapies on the basis of the Partition at Babylon, the outlawing of Eumenes by the army, and the documents that Eurydice had signed while in his custody.
Ptolemy was represented by Thaïs and was claiming two votes as satrap of Egypt and Syria, but Laomedon was there too, claiming that a satrap could not be yielded or sold, but was issued by the authority of the crown.
That was an argument that Roxane and Eurydice were inclined to accept, though even in Persia it was an iffy argument by the time Alexander arrived.
Aside from the delegates, there were over a hundred observers from nations and cities, as well as students at the university. Cleopatra opened the convention to nominations.
Laomedon rose and nominated himself.
Thaïs jumped to her feet. “Laomedon is not a true delegate,” she protested. “He sold his satrapy. Even if, in the fullness of time, this convention decides that he can’t do that and that the sale is invalid, all that means is he abandoned his satrapy without authorization, and as such still has no place here.”
“I had no choice. The histories show that if I had failed to accede to Ptolemy’s demands, he would have sent in his army and taken the satrapy anyway.”
“You took his money,” Thaïs insisted.
Cleopatra pounded her gavel. When there was a bit of quiet, she looked around the hall and saw a hand raised. “Yes, Shirley. Did you have a suggestion?”
“Have you determined that you have to be a delegate to be nominated as president of the convention?”
“Well, I just assumed…” Cleopatra stopped. “No, that hasn’t been determined.”
“In that case, go ahead and put his name in nomination and table the issue of whether he is a delegate or an observer.”
Cleopatra nodded and then said, “Laomedon has been nominated. Is there a second?”
More delay, as Robert’s Rules of Order were explained. Then Arrhidaeus stood and seconded Laomedon’s nomination, but he didn’t sit down once he had finished. Instead, he nominated himself as president of the convention and sat down, giving Laomedon a pointed look.
So it went. None of the delegates knew the ship people rules for discussion and debate, much less voting. The convention was as much a school of political science as a constitutional convention.
☆ ☆ ☆
At the end of the day’s meeting, the delegates and observers went their separate ways to enjoy the accommodations aboard the Queen of the Sea.
Polyperchon’s delegate, Kostadin, was one of Philip II’s retainers, all of seventy years old and not convinced that the convention was legal. He went to the spa on the recommendation of Epicurus, where he got a massage on the table next to Sogdiana’s satrap, also named Philip but nicknamed Shorty.
“This is a waste of time, you know, Shorty?”
“Considering that in the other history Peithon had me put to death, I think I would prefer a less violent future.”
Kostadin snorted, then groaned as the masseuse worked on a tense muscle group.
☆ ☆ ☆
Olympias had sent her own delegate, Nikifor, a priest of Dionysus, who had a satchel full of mushrooms and other things that encouraged spirit dreaming. They were taken away when he boarded, with promises that they would be returned and stored in the pharmacy, which led him to the ship’s pharmacy, where he got into a discussion of the various uses of drugs to heal as well as to contact and commune with the gods and release inspiration.
☆ ☆ ☆
Peucestas sent Amyntas, his younger brother, as representative of Persia, so Alexander IV’s third bodyguard finally got to meet him. The little boy saluted with an upraised toy sword, then went off to play. Amyntas talked a little with Roxane, then went to the Cattle Baron restaurant, where he was served tuna steak with sweet potatoes. There he talked with Jahan, a Persian sent by Tlepolemus to represent Carmania, and Cassander’s brother, Alexarchus.
“Which satrapy do you represent, Alexarchus?”
“Macedonia,” Alexarchus said. “Not that it matters. The collapse of the empire was inevitable in that other history, and it’s inevitable in this one. It was only Alexander’s personal charisma that held it together as long as it lasted. Look at what happened at Triparadisus. This is too much land spread over too much distance with too many people to be one nation.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see the ship. What else? Besides, my brother wants someone here to make his claim on the kingdom of Macedonia made clear. Oh, and to make his loyalty to the crown clear, as well,” Alexarchus added as an afterthought.
Queen of the Sea, Athens port at Piraeus
September 27
“Those who are not delegates fall into two categories,” Roxane said. “Pseudo-delegates. That’s people like Cassander’s little brother and Laomedon. Or like your other vote.”
“What?” asked Thaïs.
“Well, you’re the delegate from Egypt. That much is clear. But whether you’re the delegate from Syria as well, that’s another question. It might be you, or it might be Laomedon, or it might be that someone else will be appointed satrap of Syria. After all, Ptolemy did fail to get permission from Alexander IV, Philip III, or their regents before he took an additional satrapy for himself.”
“That would be Peithon and Arrhidaeus,” Thaïs said. “They were the regents selected after Perdiccas was killed.”
“No,” Eurydice said. “That would be me and Roxane. The appoi
ntment of Peithon and Arrhidaeus wasn’t legal.”
“That’s the sort of thing that a Greek demagogue can spend years arguing about, or a Macedonian army will settle in the field,” Thaïs said. Then she held up a hand to keep Eurydice from interrupting. “All I’m saying is you don’t want to push Ptolemy until he is forced to use the army. You might be able to get him to accept that he’s not supposed to do it again once the constitution is in place, but to go back and undo it? As the ship people say, that won’t fly.” She turned back to Roxane. “What’s the other category?”
“Observers, like the ones from Carthage and Rome.”
“And the difference between the two categories? I mean, why did you point out the two categories?”
“Because the observers won’t get a vote on anything. They can observe and make comments, but since they don’t play a role in the empire, they don’t get to vote on what’s in the constitution.”
“Like Capot’s proposed amendment to the war powers section, making attacks against Carthage illegal.”
“It doesn’t make them illegal. It just requires us to get Carthage’s consent before any attack.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m afraid of if we let the observers vote. We have enough trouble with the delegates wanting to put in special provisions to benefit them or the satraps they represent. But Capot’s smart. He’s trying to get support for his amendment from the other observers. Trading a rule against us attacking Rome for Rome’s vote.”
“The problem is that they are going to be angry if we prevent them from voting,” Eurydice said. “We should have settled the issue of who has a vote first.”
“I’m not so sure,” Roxane said. “The way we are doing it keeps them engaged in the process. And the more involved they are, the more likely they are to support the eventual document.”
“Not after we take away their vote,” Cleopatra said.
“Even then, if we do it right,” Roxane said. “We need to thank them for their input and make it clear that we are listening to them, but also make it clear that the constitution will be made by us, for us. At the same time, we are going to need to regularize the voting status of the pseudo-delegates. When we have two delegates from the same place, or when the delegate we have is from a satrap that we haven’t endorsed, we need to determine if those delegates get a vote.”
Through the window they could hear the Silver Shields drilling out on the pool deck of the Queen.
“That still leaves the Greek states like Athens, Rhodes, Thrace,” Thaïs pointed out. “As for we pseudo-delegates, I think we should get a vote.” She stopped and considered. “I watched that movie about the founding of their nation with Marie the other day. 1776? Have you seen it?”
Cleopatra shook her head, as did Eurydice, but Roxane nodded. “Horrible music.”
“I sort of liked it,” Thaïs said, “but what I am remembering is that at one crucial part, Franklin asked that the delegation be polled.”
“Which one was Franklin? The tall redhead?”
“No. The short fat one.”
“Who cares? What’s your point?”
“I think that when there is more than one delegate from a satrap, we should treat the group of them as a single vote. So, for instance, I would be the delegate from Egypt, and Laomedon and I together would be the delegation from Syria.”
“And what if you disagreed?” Eurydice asked.
“Then our vote would not count. But if a delegation has three or more delegates, the majority would determine the vote of the delegation.”
“And the Greek states that are all in the satrapy of Greece?”
“The same, at least for this convention,” Thaïs said then added, “It’s a compromise, but it might keep us from needing that—” She gestured out the window at the drilling Silver Shields.
☆ ☆ ☆
Eumenes watched the Silver Shields with their spring-steel crossbows. It was impressive. They moved forward behind their shields in a line four ranks deep. One rank would shoot, then the next rank would move past them while they were cocking and reloading. The second rank would shoot, then the next, until by the time the other three ranks had shot their bolts, the first rank would be reloaded and ready to move forward again. The deck of the Queen of the Sea was large enough for drill, but only limited drill. Just enough to let these veterans of many battles know how to integrate the new weapons.
He walked over to Dag Jakobsen. “How would they do on a long march?”
The big Gaul smiled at him with even, white teeth, and said, “Not as well as they would have before they came aboard the Queen. Don’t get me wrong. They are probably in better overall health than they have been in years. But there isn’t room to do forced march practice and there isn’t much need, either. These are becoming marines, and shipborne marines at that. It’s unlikely that they will need to go very far to get to battle.”
“Where would I learn about your techniques for moving armies?”
Dag gave him a sharp look. “What’s up?”
“A courier just in from Cappadocia. Antigonus has taken Babylon. Attalus proposes to go take it back.”
“Why haven’t you relieved him?”
“Two reasons. First, it would take the queens acting together as regent to remove Attalus from command, but the second reason is more important. He has the support of most of my generals. They want to prove that they can win without the presumptuous wagoner’s son. And I’m not there, so they would just ignore any orders I sent, even if they were cosigned by the queens-regent.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“I’m not sure. Craterus was Alexander’s best general, but after him…Ptolemy or Antigonus might be the best. Attalus is mostly competent, but he lacks Antigonus’ presence.”
They were talking using a combination of Greek and the translation app. Eumenes was an educated man, but not yet conversant in ship people English. “Presence” was one of those words that they had to go to the app for, and the app showed “style” and “savoir faire” as synonyms.
☆ ☆ ☆
Later, Dag passed along to Evgenij the conversation he’d had with Eumenes concerning the Silver Shields’ capabilities on a long march.
The veteran chuckled. “I have no intention of finding out. Nor does any Silver Shield on this ship. We like it here. It’s the best assignment we’ve ever had. We even get along well with you.”
Dag studied him for a moment, very seriously. “You have no regrets? Misgivings?”
Evgenij chuckled again. There was even less humor in the sound than there had been before. “Such a diplomat! What you’re really wondering is whether we still pose a security risk to the ship.”
“Well…Yes, I suppose so. Do you?”
“Doesn’t it seem stupid for you to ask me that question? If I wasn’t trustworthy, I’d lie to you anyway.”
“Yes, but you won’t.” Now it was Dag’s turn to chuckle. “Which I suppose answers my own question. But I’m still…call it curious, if you will.”
Evgenij shrugged. “Why would we? We’ve gained as much wealth—no, more—as we’d have had if we’d kept our slaves. You don’t need slaves anyway, on the ship, and even barely when we operate in Trinidad. You pay well and we’re able to get land on Trinidad, for when we finally retire. Except for the ones who keep gambling it away in the casino. But there’re only two of them. So why take the risk? Stupid.”
Spotting a movement in the lounge, he nodded toward a trio who had just entered. “Very stupid, when you have that one on your leash. Any time I hear some idiot—none of whom are Silver Shields, not anymore—talk about how soft the ship people are, I remind them that the ship people have their own harpy. Who is more deadly than any monster of legend.”
His eyes followed the trio as they passed through the lounge into a corridor beyond. Elise Beaulieu was in the center of the trio. Her two companions were members of the security force, both of them also ship people. All three carried pisto
ls on their hips.
After the shooting on the bridge, Captain Floden had appointed Beaulieu as her own independent security force. She would always be accompanied by two guards—also armed—and neither of them would ever, under any circumstances, be a Silver Shield. He sometimes referred to the practice as his French insurance policy.
“We are not stupid, Dag,” Evgenij said softly. “And…to be honest, as time goes by I find myself even agreeing with you most of the time. Well. Half the time. But the other half is well paid, so it doesn’t matter.”
And he chuckled yet again. There was even quite a bit of good humor in the sound this time.
CHAPTER 29
Babylon
September 28
Antigonus One-eye looked over the walls of Babylon in a much improved frame of mind. This day could not get better. The roof gardens of the city were in fruit and there were grapes, berries, and fall flowers, as well as vegetables and spices growing on the roofs of buildings all through the city.
Antigonus didn’t know it, but a ship person seeing the famed Hanging Gardens of Babylon would have been reminded more than anything of an article on box gardening from the Mother Earth News magazine or some similar publication. Started by Nebuchadnezzar centuries ago, the custom had grown. Most of the roofs of buildings in Babylon, from the royal palace to a tannery, had boxes or pots of plants on the roofs. It kept the city cooler and the air pleasant. Not so much over the tanneries, but in general. Even the famed walls of Babylon had potted plants, and Antigonus could smell the mixed aromas of flowers and spices. They buoyed his spirits, but not nearly so much as the reinforcements he had received from many of the eastern satraps. That, and the treasury he had managed to seize intact.
Antigonus took a deep breath of the fragrant air and turned as he heard the shout of a palace messenger.