“And I am not asking you to bring a 'woman' into a city under siege, but to escort a princess to stand beside her general. I am no ordinary woman, Captain,” she said, changing her tone to become more serious, more commanding, more haughty and, well, more royal. “I am Barsine, wife of the marshal of the Persian Empire's forces in Asia, widow of an imperial general, daughter of the satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia and sister of a royal counselor. My mother was a Greek princess and thus the blood of the Achaeans, the Pharnacids, and the Achaemenids runs in my veins. I am, my dear 'Captain' (which she said slowly and quite pointedly so as to remind him of the difference in their rank), a princess – and a princess royal to boot. So, you see, my good Captain, you will not be bringing a woman to a city under siege, but escorting a princess to war.”
“Well that went well,” said Dimitrios sarcastically as he tossed his helmet across the room to Ari.
“What do you mean, brother?” asked Klemes, who had found a small but rather excellent little library in the villa and was perusing a rare medical scroll he had borrowed from its shelves, when Dimitrios entered.
“The princess doesn't want to go east to safety, as Memnon ordered.”
“Well, that is her prerogative, being a woman and a princess at that,” mumbled Klemes, turning back to the scroll. “It's not like you can force her to do what the general wants, short of kidnapping her and tying her to a mule – which I think her guards and our hosts would take issue with. You delivered the message; you've done your duty.”
“You don't understand, brother,” said Dimitrios, fuming. “It's not just that she won't go east. She wants to go to Halicarnassos – and wants me to take here there.”
Klemes let out a little laugh, then a bigger one. No longer able to hold on to the scroll due to his laughing, he let it roll up in the middle of the table upon which he had set it.
“Oh, you can't be serious,” said the physician, in evident amusement. “This little princess of yours wants to go to what is arguably the single most dangerous place on earth? Which means, not only going back over that awful route we took, but somehow managing to get through an enemy army, and into a city under siege. Really? I hope you told her to pull the other one.”
“That is not something one tells a princess,” said Dimitrios, gritting his teeth. “Especially not one who is married to your commanding general.”
“Well, then, good luck to the little lady and all who travel with her. It is no longer your concern. You did your duty. You delivered the message.”
“Didn't you hear me, brother?” asked Dimitrios pointedly. “She wants – no, she orders – us to guide her on this mad adventure.”
Klemes laughed again. “Well, I hope you set her straight on that one. I'm not daft enough to go back into that hell, and neither are you, right? There's a lot more to see and do in this world and I intend to do it, and so should you.”
Dimitrios gave his brother a look that could not be mistaken for agreement. A glowering, scolding look that without words imparted the notion that he, Dimitrios, had, even against his better judgment and all common sense, agreed to do exactly what the princess demanded – or die trying.
“No,” said Klemes, his laughter fading and his uncharacteristically boisterous joviality replaced by a sense of doom and disbelief. “No, you don't mean to say...no, brother. Even you are not that stupid.”
The remainder of the very long day was taken up by preparations for the journey. The princess, give her her due, gave no order to anyone to accompany her to Halicarnassos. Instead, she gathered together everyone at the villa. Appearing before them in leather armor and martial traveling attire, sword at her hip and bow and quiver upon her back, she addressed them thus:
“As you all know, my husband, your lord and general, Memnon, is besieged in Halicarnassos. You surely also know by now that this Greek soldier, a captain on my husband's staff, has braved fire and sword, heat and hunger, to bring a message from my beloved. Memnon bids me to take our children and to go east, deep inside the empire, to safety.”
Barsine paused a moment to let her words sink in, although she knew that all around her had already at least heard a rumor to the effect of what she had decided to do.
“As much as I appreciate my husband's concern, I have decided that I shall comply with only some of what he wishes. My children left this morning under escort for Damascus. There they will be safe, well cared for, and find comfort in the home of friends of our family. I, on the other hand, intend to join my husband. It is my desire to go west, to find a way through or around the Macedonian siege lines, and to stand by his side upon the battlements of Halicarnassos. That is where the wife of a soldier needs to be.”
“Pardon me, great lady,” Klemes interrupted, much to Dimitrios' embarrassment, “would it not make more sense to go due south, or south and east, until you reach a friendly port? From there you could take a ship to the city.”
“While I am not in the habit of explaining myself,” glowered the princess, “I will do so just this once, and in this case, as you are foreigners to our ways – and our geography. Trust me when I say that this is the shortest and quickest route to the city. Besides, can you guarantee I will find a ship willing to sail into a besieged port, let alone a captain who will take a woman, even one of royal standing, aboard? No, you cannot. So we shall do as I say – and,” she said quite regally and sternly (and even a bit threateningly) “we will discuss this no more.”
Klemes made to answer, but an imploring and cautionary glare from his brother entreating him to remain silent kept the physician from replying with anything other than a nod of acceptance.
“Then that is settled. As for the dangers, well,” she continued bravely and with a smile, “if my husband, a Greek soldier from Rhodes, is willing to give his life to defend the city and people of Halicarnassos, how can I, a princess of the blood, do anything less?”
Once again, the princess paused for a moment to let her words take root among those she had called together.
“This undertaking is my decision and mine alone. It will be dangerous and difficult, and its outcome is by no means certain. I know that my rank and my blood give me the authority to command each and every one of you to accompany me, to protect me, and to give your lives for me. I have that right,” she said quite loudly and with great authority, “but it is a right that I shall not invoke.”
Again, she paused, at which point mumbles and murmurs of astonishment and confusion rippled through the small crowd before her.
“I know it is not normally our custom, but in this instance, I will not demand that any of you accompany me. Instead, I ask that you do. To those who refuse, rest assured you will face no punishment, nor lose any honor. On the contrary, I will give any who wish to leave a tablet allowing them free passage anywhere in the empire, and a small bag of silver coins to help start a new life. To those who do choose to come with me, on the other hand, I offer nothing but my heartfelt thanks,” she added, choking back a little hint of the emotions she felt. “That, and a promise that, whatever may happen, each of you shall be to me not a servant or a soldier, but a brother or a sister, and will remain so to my dying day – a day, which, to be honest, I fear may come long ere we spy the triple towers of Halicarnassos.”
“Damn,” said Klemes quietly to his brother, “damn, she's good. She's very good.” Apparently the two score soldiers, servants, and retainers who heard the princess were of the same mind as Klemes. To a man – and woman – they rushed to pledge themselves to their princess. Some wept, some went down on their knees, and some came forward to kiss her hands, her boots or the fabric of her trousers.
Realizing that no matter what he said or what arguments he could make the princess would be heading west, Dimitrios just gave a great, deep sigh. He did not rush forward, but stood rock still, grudgingly accepting that, while to go with her to perhaps certain death was far from an ideal decision, to refuse to go with her would be worse. If, by some miracle, she got through
without him, or was captured or killed trying, it would bring down upon him such dishonor and guilt that he feared he could never raise his head again in soldierly company – or live with himself. While he firmly believed that her chances of success – or even survival – were minimal, he also believed that his presence and experience might improve those chances, at least a little. At worst, he would die with honor defending not just a princess, but the wife of a man for whom he felt not merely the respect due his rank but also the friendship and sense of brotherhood that only those who have faced death together can share.
Klemes, too, was certain this was a bad idea – perhaps the worst idea his brother had ever come up, even worse than this quest to seek revenge for Thebes and their lost friends by fighting Alexander. After all, what had that quest brought? Not riches, nor fame, nor satisfaction. He, his brother and their friend Ari had been stabbed, clubbed, chained, whipped, stuck with arrows, come close to dying of sunstroke and exhaustion, and nearly drowned – and on more than one occasion. Driven to near madness and imminent death from thirst, hunger, wounds, battle, and captivity, neither he nor his brother, let alone their young friend, had anything to show for their exertions. They had not even helped win any battles, instead having been on the losing end at the Granicos and Miletos. While they escaped being besieged at Halicarnassos, Klemes feared that the three Thebans were now about to add a new entry to their lengthening list of failures.
This quest his brother had undertaken, thought Klemes, may not have been such a good idea as they had all once thought back in Thebes.
Still, just as Dimitrios could not bring himself to abandon the princess, nor could Klemes let his brother commit himself to this task, bad as it was, on his own. Nor could Ari, whose youthful exuberance somehow continued to buoy up his spirits and to whom this all still seemed like some grand adventure. That he was hopelessly in love with Halime, who had been among the first to rush forward to volunteer to accompany the princess, put an end to any discussion in his mind – or heart – as to which direction he would take.
As for Halime, something about the princess spoke to the adventurer in her own soul, and of course to the good, patriotic Persian whom she was. Like Barsine, she too was the daughter of a great warrior and the sister to a pack of soldiers. That her loved ones may have given their lives for the empire only redoubled her own determination to do her part in the war. Brought up to ride before she could walk, to shoot a bow, rope a horse, and track a prey alongside her brothers, Halime was not about to let everyone else have all of the fun – or take on all of the dangers alone. Barsine, seeing something of her younger self in the girl, gave her a look that showed she graciously accepted Halime's offer to serve in her entourage as something more than a mere serving girl or lady in waiting.
Halime was not alone among the Persians at the villa to pledge themselves to Barsine. Burzasp and his brothers, and their family's retainers, also stepped forward. It was but a small step to take when they had already offered her the hospitality and protection of their home.
As for those who lived and worked at the villa, other than some elderly servants, children, and their mothers who had been intentionally excused from the gathering, most took up the other offer of silver and safety. The handful of faithful guards who had accompanied Barsine this far could have taken the money, as she had pointedly offered to release them from her service, however, elected not to take the purse of coins. They, too, agreed to go wherever the princess would lead them. They did not care if it meant they were to go into the jaws of hell or Halicarnassos, between which, as Dimitrios had cautioned, there was little, if any, difference.
83
Halicarnassos
A commander’s plans; a princess’ acts
As the princess stepped off on her journey to Halicarnassos, the general she hoped to see and the king she hoped to avoid were busy with their own plans. So, too, were a fat queen, a restless admiral and numerous other actors upon the stage that was western Asia.
Inside Halicarnassos, Memnon and the rest of the Persian high command continued their daily inspections of the damage caused by the Macedonian bombardment. They oversaw repairs and planned and readied minor raids on the coastal areas behind the enemy siege works and the lines of communications beyond. Although they had settled into a routine, no day was dull, no day was without problems, and no day was without challenges. Each rock or flaming pot thrown at the city, and each casualty, chipped away at the morale of the defenders, just as the arrival of each supply ship or the return of a group of victorious raiders bolstered it. Time was not kind, but time was, as Memnon reminded his officers, on their side.
“Every day we hold out,” he would conclude each staff meeting, “is a day the army that the King of Kings is raising grows larger. All we need do is hold our ground, and we shall be the anvil upon which the hammer of Darius strikes to flatten the Macedonian invaders.”
Across the shored-up battlements, churned-up plain and ever-encroaching siege works, Alexander too met daily with his commanders. He knew time was not on his side – and for more reasons than Memnon gave.
“My mother made a bargain with the gods, not unlike that made by the mother of Achilles,” he would routinely remind his officers. “I am like a candle burning bright – but only for so long. I have been given but little time on this earth before I must rejoin my true father on Olympus. I must not squander any more of these precious days left here, in front of this city. So, my dear companions,” he would conclude almost every meeting, “it is once again a matter of victory or death and, as I said to you at Miletos, by that I mean my victory...or your death.”
The raids by the Persian fleet along the coasts had disrupted Alexander's supplies of food and slaves, both of which he was always in short supply. The siege took on a life of its own, becoming a monster whose appetite was never satiated and which only grew more demanding and more ravenous with each feeding. As the Persian raids grew bolder and more destructive, the farther inland did Alexander's foragers have to go to scavenge for the manpower and victuals that the siege monster devoured in prodigious amounts.
It was one such foraging party that Barsine and her Persian
princess parade came upon as they proceeded on toward Halicarnassos...
It was Halime who first spotted the Macedonians – or, more correctly, as Dimitrios explained after she had quietly called him forward to spy on the enemy, a collection of allied cavalry working for the Macedonians.
“Those outriders there, see, they are the Prodromoi,” said Dimitrios as he crouched behind a pile of rocks at the top of the low rise above the valley. Down below, the enemy troops were busy at work gathering supplies – or rather herding men and women into groups to pack and carry food and fodder.
“The lazy ones, sitting on their horses, drinking and laughing, you mean? They're Macedonians, right?”
“No, only a few are from Macedonia. Mostly they are barbarians, recruited from Thrace or Thessaly. They only work for the Macedonians.”
“They don't look like they'd be much to take on in a fight,” Halime remarked with a little laugh. “Bunch of slothful drunkards who look like they can barely stay on their horses.”
“Don't let their idle, drunken behavior fool you into letting your guard down,” whispered Dimitrios. ”I've fought those bastards too many times before, from a farm outside Thebes to the Granicos and on the way out of Halicarnassos. They are experts with a lance. Each time I have been lucky to escape with my life.”
“All right,” said Halime, “but then those other horsemen, the ones riding about, whipping the farmers...they're Macedonians, right?”
“Sort of,” sighed Dimitrios. “Those are Paeonians. Nasty tribesmen. So nasty the barbarian Thracians call them barbarians. They are experts with the javelin. They race up, throw, turn back, circle around and keep doing that over and over again until they run out of javelins.”
“Then what do they do?”
“They go back for more.”
Halime was a little confused but was trying to sort it all out when she spied a pair of big, heavily armored men on massive horses. “Now those,” she nudged Dimitrios, “those must be real Macedonians.”
“Yes, they are. Even worse, however,” he added, “they are Companions. From the heavy cavalry, from which Alexander draws his bodyguard and strike force. They must be in charge of this crew.”
“So we take them out and the rest, what, all run away?” asked Halime hopefully.
“What do you mean 'take them out,' Halime? We're not here to fight, we're here to scout – to find a way into Halicarnassos without having to fight.”
“But we outnumber them!” said Halime, excitedly. “Me, Burzasp and his horse archers, we can knock a dozen of them out of the saddle from here, and then the rest of you can charge in and finish them off!”
“Halime,” said Dimitrios as quietly as possible, difficult as that was becoming, “a lot of us are not mounted fighters. We just ride to battle and dismount. Those are trained horsemen – battle-hardened killers. Even if we did kill them – we'd have to kill them all, every one of them, or else they'd ride for reinforcements. And that would put an end to Barsine's Persian princess parade right quick.”
“But you've done it before, right?”
“Yes,” moaned Dimitrios, “but that was different. Then we had no choice – and they didn't have a pair of Companions with them. Those bastards die hard – real hard. Alexander forms them into flying wedges and leads them into massed formations of enemy cavalry – and infantry – and breaks them, breaks them into little pieces for the rest of the cavalry to gobble up. And I don't feel much like being gobbled up today, thank you very much!”
A Captain of Thebes Page 49
