Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy)

  Eumenes looked at him with worry written all over his face, unable to believe his ears, ‘You probably dreamed it all.’

  ‘Not in the slightest. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was her, do you understand? But just an instant before I had seen her playing her flute caught up in the coils of a gigantic snake. And I was there, I was not lying in my makeshift bed. We returned to our camp together, walking along the path for some distance. How do you explain all that?’

  ‘I do not know. There are people who walk in their sleep and they say too that there are people who while they sleep somehow leave their bodies and travel distances, appearing before other people. This is what they call ekstasis. Olympias is certainly no ordinary woman.’

  ‘There is no doubt about that. Antipater is finding it increasingly difficult to keep her under control. My mother wants to rule, she wants to exercise power and preventing her from doing so will not be easy. I wonder what Aristotle would make of all this.’

  ‘That’s easily discovered – just ask Callisthenes.’

  ‘Callisthenes irritates me sometimes.’

  ‘That is apparent, and the fact obviously pains him.’

  ‘But he does nothing to prevent it.’

  ‘That’s not quite the way it is. Callisthenes has his principles and has been educated by his uncle not to make any compromises in this direction: you should try to understand him . . .’ and Eumenes then changed the subject. ‘What plans do you have for the near future?’

  ‘I want to organize drama and athletic competitions.’

  ‘Competitions . . . drama?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because the men need some sort of distraction.’

  ‘The men need to wield their swords again. They haven’t been involved in any fighting for more than a year, and if the Persians caught up with us right now, I’m not so sure that we’d—’

  ‘The Persians will certainly not appear now. Darius is busy gathering the largest army ever seen to wipe us out.’

  ‘And you simply let him get on with it? You would rather organize drama and athletics?’ the Secretary shook his head as though speaking of pure madness, but Alexander stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Listen: we cannot now face a tiring campaign to wipe out the cities and the fortresses of the Persian empire one after another. You yourself saw just how much it cost us to take Miletus, Halicarnassus, Tyre . . .’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘So I want to leave Darius all the time he needs to recruit as many soldiers as he can and then I will take him on. And I will resolve everything in one final clash.’

  ‘But . . . but we might lose.’

  Alexander looked him in the eyes as though his friend had just uttered some absurdity, ‘Lose? That is not possible.’

  Eumenes lowered his gaze. He now realized that Olympias’s letter had simply convinced Alexander of something he already believed subconsciously – that he was invincible and immortal. That this actually implied some form of divinity was immaterial given the situation, but would the army and his companions share his conviction and determination? What would happen when on some limitless Asian plain they found themselves facing the largest army of all time?

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Alexander asked him.

  ‘Nothing, it’s just that a passage from the March of the Ten Thousand springs to mind, the passage that goes—’

  ‘I know,’ said the King, interrupting him, ‘I know what you’re thinking of,’ and he began reciting from memory: ‘“It was already midday and still the enemy was nowhere in sight, but in the afternoon a large dust storm appeared, like a white cloud of the plain spread over a long distance. A little later they could just make out the flashing of the metal and the spears and the ranks became visible . . .”

  ‘The battle of Kunaxa, the Great King’s limitless army appearing like a ghost out of the desert dust . . . and yet even back then the Greeks won the battle, and if they had charged the centre immediately rather than tackling the enemy’s left wing head-on, they would have killed the Persian king and conquered his entire empire. You just organize the athletics and the theatrics, my friend.’

  Eumenes shook his head again and made for the door.

  ‘One last thing,’ said Alexander, stopping him on the threshold. ‘Make sure you choose those works which suit Thessalus’s voice and bearing. Oedipus Rex, for example, and then—’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the Secretary sought to put his mind at rest, ‘you know I’m good at these things.’

  ‘Eumenes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How is the General?’

  ‘Parmenion? He must be completely beside himself with grief, but he doesn’t let it show.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll be up to it when the moment comes?’

  ‘I think so,’ replied Eumenes. ‘There are not many men like him,’ and he left.

  *

  Alexander celebrated the opening of the athletic and theatrical games in grand style, inviting all his friends and the most important officers to a banquet. Everyone came, apart from Parmenion who sent an orderly with a note excusing himself: ‘Parmenion to King Alexander, Hail! Please excuse me for not participating in the banquet. I do not feel well and I would do your table no honour with my presence.’

  It was immediately apparent that this was to be a conversational meal, because there were no dancers nor ‘companions’ expert in love play, and Alexander himself, as ‘head of the symposium’, cut the wine in the crater with four parts of water. It was also clear that he wanted to discuss philosophical and literary topics rather than wartime subjects because he had assigned the places near him to Barsine and Thessalus. Then came Callisthenes and a couple of sophist philosophers who were visiting with the Athenian delegation. Hephaestion, Eumenes, Seleucus and Ptolemy were also close by with their female companions – some more occasional than others – while the other friends were arranged in the other part of the room.

  Although it was now midsummer, the weather outside was taking a turn for the worse and black rain clouds were gathering over the old city. Suddenly, while the cooks were just beginning to serve the first portions of roast lamb with fresh broad beans, a great thunderclap resounded, making the walls of the house shake and sending ripples through the wine in the cups.

  All those present looked at one another in silence for a moment, while the thunder rolled away towards the foothills of Mount Lebanon. The cooks started serving the meat again, but Callisthenes, turning to Alexander with a smile part way between ironic and jocular, asked, ‘Since you are the son of Zeus, couldn’t you manage something along those lines?’

  The King lowered his head for a moment and many of the guests in the room thought he was about to produce one of his explosions of wrath. Even Callisthenes himself suddenly seemed to regret having made the joke. Seleucus noticed that the historian had turned decidedly pale and whispered in Ptolemy’s ear, ‘This time he’s wetting himself with fear.’

  However, Alexander lifted his head and let everyone see his smiling face, not upset in the slightest: ‘No, I would never do such a thing; I have no wish to frighten my guests.’

  Everyone started laughing. The storm had passed by, for the moment at least.

  4

  ETEOCLES RODE FOR several days, sleeping only for a few hours each night near his horse. He often woke up, frightened by the calls of the animals of the night and the howling of the jackals; he worried about losing his way or being attacked and robbed of his horse and his provisions. The worst fear of all was that he might be captured by brigands and sold as a slave in some far off place where no one would ever find him to set him free again. In all his brief life he had never had to suffer such anxiety and face such danger on his own, but having his father’s sword with him did give him some heart, holding the weapon which had belonged to the great Memnon of Rhodes. The fact that he was physically very well developed for his
age also helped, making him seem and feel more adult than he in fact was.

  He had no way of knowing that his safety depended instead on the men put on his tail by his hated enemy, the man who had brought dishonour on his father and had conquered his mother in body and soul. Perhaps he really was the incarnation of Ahriman, the genius of the darkness and evil, as his grandfather Artabazos had once said.

  Everything proceeded smoothly while Eteocles crossed the inhabited areas of Palestine and Syria, where it was relatively easy for his escort to camouflage themselves or to mix in with caravans that moved from one village to another bearing wares; but out on the limitless expanses of the desert the two hetairoi who were following him had to discuss matters and make a decision. They were two young Macedonians from the royal guard, among the most valiant and intelligent of Alexander’s soldiers, and they knew their leader very well. If they failed in their mission and anything happened to the boy, the King would certainly never forgive them.

  ‘If we keep him under observation,’ said one of them, ‘he will see us, because there is nowhere for us to hide. If we keep out of his sight then there’s the risk we might lose him.’

  ‘We have no choice,’ replied his companion. ‘One of us has to approach him and win his trust. There is simply no other way of protecting him.’

  They laid out a plan of action and the following day at dawn, when the boy set off again on his journey, exhausted after a night spent half awake, off in the distance he saw a man alone on a horse, riding in his same direction. He stopped and wondered whether it might be better to let him go on ahead and set off later, or to ride closer to the solitary traveller and thus have some company for at least part of the journey.

  He decided that waiting was not a good idea because it would consequently mean having to travel in the warmest hours of the day. He felt sure that one man, alone and unarmed, was certainly no danger and that in any case he would have to face much more difficult situations in the near future. He plucked his courage up, kicked the sides of his mount with his heels and set off along the deserted track, soon drawing level with the rider, who turned on hearing the noise of the horse. Eteocles, overcoming his own shyness, spoke to him in Persian, ‘May Ahura Mazda protect you, stranger. Which way are you going?’

  The man, knowing that he would be understood, replied in Greek, ‘I do not speak your language, my boy. I am a goldsmith from Crete and I am on my way to Babylon to work in the palace of the Great King.’

  Eteocles breathed a sigh of relief and said, ‘I too am on my way to Babylon. I hope you won’t mind if we travel together.’

  ‘Not at all. Indeed, it would be a pleasure – travelling alone on these deserted roads frightens me.’

  ‘Why are you travelling alone? Wouldn’t it have been better for you to join up with a caravan?’

  ‘You are right. The fact is that I have heard so many stories about the merchants on the caravans . . . that they supplement their income by selling off as slaves the lone travellers they meet along their way, whenever they think they can get away with it, so I said to myself, “Better alone than in bad company.” At least I can see right across to the horizon, the track is clearly marked and it’s not difficult to maintain one’s sense of direction – all you have to do is keep going towards the rising sun and sooner or later you’ll come to the banks of the Euphrates. The worst is over at that stage because all that’s needed then is a good boat and that’s it. You can put your feet up and rest until you reach Babylon. But you look a bit too young to me to be travelling on your own. Don’t you have parents or brothers?’

  Eteocles did not reply and for a moment all they could hear was the noise of their horses’ hooves on the desert track, under the empty sky. The man spoke again, ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have poked my nose into your personal affairs.’

  Eteocles now stared off towards the horizon, flat and monotonous like the becalmed sea, ‘Do you think it’ll take us long to reach the banks of the Euphrates?’

  ‘No,’ replied the man. ‘If we keep this pace up we should be there tomorrow night.’

  They kept going until evening and then set up camp in a slight hollow. Eteocles stayed awake for as long as he could manage, so as to keep an eye on his new companion, but in the end exhaustion won and he fell into a deep sleep. The man then stood up and walked back in the direction they had come from until there in the darkness he was able to make out the silhouettes of a horse and a man lying down next to it. Everything was proceeding according to plan and so he returned to their camp and lay down himself, snatching brief moments of sleep while remaining alert to the sounds of the night.

  When the boy woke at dawn he found that the man had placed a handful of dates with dry bread and a boxwood cup full of water from his water bag on his cape. The water had chilled during the night and was refreshing to drink. They ate in silence and then set off again under the burning sun, in the stagnant, motionless air.

  By about midday it was clear that the horses were struggling and so they dismounted and continued on foot, leading the animals by their bridles.

  They reached the Euphrates late in the night, becoming aware of the great river thanks to the gurgling of its waters before they actually saw the sparkling of its flow in the moonlight. There was one point where the water rushed against the shallow gravel bed creating a ribbon of foam from one bank to the other – a ford. The soldier moved closer, rode slowly towards the centre of the river, testing the solidity of the crossing, and then turned back.

  ‘It’s safe here,’ he said, turning to Eteocles. ‘If you want, you can cross.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ the boy asked him. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  The soldier shook his head. ‘No. My mission is accomplished and I must turn back now.’

  ‘Mission?’ asked the boy, increasingly bewildered.

  ‘That’s right. Alexander gave us orders to escort you to the border and to make sure nothing happened to you. Another companion has been following us at a distance.’

  Eteocles lowered his head, humiliated by such odious consideration on Alexander’s part: ‘Return to your master and tell him that this will not stop me killing him if I ever meet him on a battlefield.’ He guided his charger into the ford.

  The soldier, sitting upright on his mount, stood there watching until he saw the boy riding up the opposite bank and setting off along the plain into Persian territory. Then he turned and headed back to meet his companion who was probably waiting not far away. The moonlight was increasingly strong and things were well illuminated, helped by the chalky colour of the desert, but there was no sign of the other hetairos. And the next day, by sunlight, there was no trace of him either, nor was there any the day after that; the desert had swallowed him up.

  5

  ‘YOUR SON ETEOCLES has crossed the border into Persia safe and sound,’ said Alexander as he entered Barsine’s room, ‘but one of the men I sent to follow him and protect him has not returned.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ replied Barsine. ‘I know how close you are to your men.’

  ‘They are like my children. But this is the price I pay for your peace of mind. And how is your youngest son?’

  ‘He remains close to me, he loves me, and perhaps he understands me. And then nature helps protect the young – they soon forget and forgetting comes more easily to them.’

  ‘And you? How do you feel?’

  ‘I am most grateful to you for all you have done, but my life is no longer the same. A woman who is also a mother can perhaps never be a real lover – her heart is always pulled in another direction by other feelings.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that you no longer wish to see me?’

  Barsine lowered her head, somewhat upset now, ‘Please don’t make things any harder for me; you well know that I wish to see you every day, every instant, that your remoteness and your coldness hurt me so much. I beg you, please give me some time to recover, to build a small refuge in my heart for my memories and then . . . th
en I will know how to love you as you wish me to.’

  She stood up and approached him, enveloping him in her beauty and her fragrance – Alexander took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  ‘Do not despair. You will see your son again and perhaps in some not so distant future we will all be able to live in peace together.’ He embraced her and left.

  On the stairs he met Seleucus, who had been looking for him, ‘A ship has arrived from General Antipater with an urgent message. Here it is.’

  Alexander opened it and read:

  Antipater, Regent of the Kingdom, to Alexander, Hail!

  The Spartans have assembled an army and are on the march against our garrisons and our allies in the Peloponnese, but for the moment they are alone. It is vital that they remain without allies. Do as you think you must to ensure that the situation does not change, and thus I will have no need of assistance. Your mother and your sister are both well – perhaps you should consider a new match for Cleopatra. The Egyptian Sisines, the man you asked me to investigate, became a trusted servant of your mother the Queen on your father’s death.

  Take good care.

  ‘I hope the old man has sent you good news,’ said Seleucus.

  ‘Not quite. The Spartans are making a move and are preparing to attack us – we must remind the Athenians of their commitment. When is the audience with the delegation from their government?’

  ‘This evening. They have already handed Eumenes a note in which they request the return of the Athenian prisoners captured at the Granicus.’