After Dimitrios finished his rant he heard a sobbing noise. It was Halime.
“What's wrong now?” he asked.
“I...I...I didn't know you were such...such a coward,” she managed to mumble between tears. “Or that you were such a bully. You didn't have to speak to me like that...I don't let anyone speak to me like that, except perhaps my father – who would never do so – or my brothers – and then only the ones older than me.”
“Halime,” said Dimitrios, taken by surprise and immediately sorry for how he spoke to her.
“Well, coward,” said Halime, rising to her knees, notching and arrow and drawing her bow. “If you won't fight these bastards, I will!”
Halime's second arrow was in the air before the first even found its target – a Thracian drinking deeply from a wineskin while sitting on his horse. The second struck the shield of a Paeonian, but only because he turned to see why the other horseman was acting so strange. Had he not, it would have struck him in the neck. Within a breath he had grabbed a javelin, given the alarm and spied his target – a young girl on the hill who would have let loose a third arrow – had not a man in Greek armor tackled her and dragged her out of sight.
The Paeonian horseman kicked his heels into the sides of his mount and raced up the low slope, javelin at the ready, raised above his head, while he scanned the rise for his target. As he went up and over the top, Dimitrios rose up and pulled him from the horse. Halime did not hesitate, and stabbed the enemy soldier repeatedly with her dagger, even while Dimitrios and her target were rolling about in the dirt. Two other riders from the princess' entourage were at the bottom of the hill, holding on to the horses that Dimitrios and Halime had ridden up on. One turned about and raced to the rear to get help, while the other charged up the hill, the reins to the other horses still in one hand.
“Leave him!” shouted the Persian rider. “Mount up! We've got to get out of here!”
Halime ran and jumped up onto her horse, but Dimitrios, being an infantryman at heart, struggled to mount. His horse was skittish, due to all of the activity, and finally, he just gave up. Dimitrios slapped the horse on the rump and then ran after it, racing as fast as he could into the dust that Halime's horse and the others were kicking up. Had he spared a moment to gaze over his shoulder, he would have seen a chilling sight – half a dozen assorted enemy cavalrymen topping the rise and coming at a full gallop – straight for him.
Dimitrios saw the rear end of Halime's horse and those of the other two riders disappear over the next rise. He heard rather than saw the javelins the enemy horsemen tossed in his direction. His lungs about to burst from the exertion, he nevertheless kept on running after Halime. Only moments after she dropped out of sight, however, five riders came boiling back over the top of that hillock. Burzasp and his brothers let fly their arrows as they came up, then expertly, and effortlessly, slung their bows, and drew sword, mace or javelin, each to his own preference. The Persians rushed past Dimitrios, expertly if barely avoiding him, and crashed into the enemy.
The mix of Paeonian and Thracian cavalry had not expected to be confronted by, let alone collide with, an equal number of Persian horsemen. Burzasp and his brothers made quick work of the enemy light cavalry, and then kept on going, back over the rise from which Halime and Dimitrios had first spotted the Macedonian forage party. Dimitrios collapsed to the ground, fighting for breath, as they disappeared from view. Within moments a second group of horsemen – Halime of all people at their head – all but flew over the top of the hillock from where she had ridden but a second ago. She was screaming – no, screeching – a shrill and mindlessly joyful battle cry, waving a sword that was far too big for her, with a dozen assorted Persian riders in tow. Dimitrios just sat there, in the dirt, as Halime and her horde swept past, up, and over the hill toward the Macedonians. Dimitrios heard the sounds of battle, but had no idea what was happening.
As he sat there, still fighting for breath, a shadow fell over him. Dimitrios looked up to see Klemes and Ari sitting astride a pair of tired-looking ponies. Each man had a big grin on his face.
“So, brother,” said Klemes, “taking a bit of a rest, are we, while little girls fight your battles?”
84
On the Coast near Halicarnassos
Walking on Water
As they continued westward, the princess and her party suffered few incidents even remotely as dangerous as their encounter with the enemy cavalry. There were random sightings of scouts, but Burzasp and his brothers either chased them away – or ran them to ground, with fatal consequences for their prey. As it would be impossible to enter the city from the north, due to the siege lines, Dimitrios had recommended driving south, across the base of the peninsula on which the city was set. By staying well to the east, that would bring them to the coast just southeast of Halicarnassos, across from the slender island that paralleled the coast and whose northernmost tip was opposite its harbor.
The princess agreed to this course, trusting that, when they got to the coast, they would be able to spy some fishermen, a trading vessel, or one of the supply ships that fed the city under siege. Even if none of those could offer passage into Halicarnassos, they could at least carry a message to Admiral Autophadrates or even to Memnon himself, either of whom, she was certain, would surely send a ship to pick them up.
Their route took them through or near numerous farms, villas, and villages, but all were devoid of life, human or animal. The people had fled or been enslaved to build the Macedonian siege works. Alexander's foragers had stripped those areas of everything edible, and had carried off all of the livestock. Many of the buildings had either been burned to the ground or, if left partially standing, lacked roofs, as the Macedonian raiding parties had been quite playful and thorough in devastating the area. Every piece of timber that could be carried off had been taken, as the siege works and the army's cooking fires both devoured wood at a prodigious rate. The wild game in the area had also been hunted near to extinction, and even the streams appeared fished out. Having planned to supplement their rations by hunting or purchasing food from these settlements, the princess and her party had brought few rations. As such, they were beginning to feel the first effects, if not of hunger, at least of having to travel on nearly empty stomachs.
It was thus with great relief that a week into their journey Dimitrios caught his first glimpse of the sea. Although no ships were in sight at the moment, the sight of the sea meant this stage of the journey was over. “I may not have gotten the princess to safety as I promised the general,” he said to Halime, who continued to serve as interpreter between the captain and Burzasp, “but at least I...or I should say 'we' have seen her safe this far.”
“But that is not enough for our princess,” replied Burzasp. “She will not rest until she is reunited with her husband. We must contact a ship – any ship – if we are to proceed, and I do not see any, do you?”
“I am a soldier, but I was a wine merchant before Alexander destroyed my city and my livelihood. I understand something of ships and shipping lanes, having traveled on enough of them myself, but I do not know these waters.”
“Nor do I, Greek,” huffed Burzasp. “Give me a horse and I will ride into hell itself...but of the sea, I know nothing...other than it is ...well, wet, and no place for a horse.”
“Ah, yes, as my brother used to say, 'you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it walk on it.'”
“Did I hear someone mention me?” said Klemes, as he rode up to join Dimitrios, Halime, and Burzasp.
“I was just telling Burzasp here that old saying of yours about horses not being able to walk on water...”
“Yes,” nodded Klemes, “but they can swim.”
“In the sea?” Dimitrios shot back in surprise.
“No, not in the wine dark sea itself, but you see where we are? That long island out there is not far off. A good swimmer could make it easily, and so could a horse. It blocks the waves and the wind, and makes for a calm and sha
llow channel.”
“So you want us to swim our horses across it to that island? To what purpose?”
“Well, Dimitrios, damn it, I'm a physician, not a sailor, but I have seen that island before – and from the other side.”
“Huh?”
“To the west of that island lies Cos, where I spent so many years at study. The shipping lanes pass between the two. The water here on this side is too shallow and the rocks too treacherous for passage. Oh, a fisherman might seek shelter here from a storm, but any other captain would beach his ship on the big island – or ride it out in hopes of reaching Cos or Halicarnassos. “
“So what do you recommend,” Dimitrios replied with laugh, “you know, speaking as my naval adviser.”
Klemes ignored the jibe and replied “we should cross here. We set up a camp and a signal fire in hopes of attracting a ship passing on the lanes. We can also send some riders up the length of the island to a point just opposite the city. There, too, you can set a signal fire. Someone in the city or a ship on patrol is bound to come and investigate.”
Dimitrios did not say a word. He was truly speechless, so surprised was he by his brother's detailed answer.
“What? What is it brother?” said Klemes with a very slight smile and a single raised eyebrow. “You may be the only one in this family who can fight his way out of trouble – but you're not the only one who can think his way out of it. Go run along to the princess and tell her my plan...and don't worry, you can let her think this is all your idea. Wouldn't want to burst your bubble or have her pestering me for advice. So, go. What are you waiting for? The sun will set soon and we should be about this if we are to do it today.”
“You want me to do what?” Princess Barsine replied in surprise when Dimitrios explained his brother's plan. “Can I not just stay here and make camp while you go swimming to the island? When you find a ship, you can just send it for me.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness,” replied the captain with a bow. “We have too few fighting men as it is to protect you properly. If we split our forces, that puts you at an increased risk.”
“From whom?” the princess said with disdain as she sipped on the last of the wine they had brought with them. “The raiders won't come back – there is nothing of value left to raid.”
“But enemy patrols...”
“It has been days since we saw anyone other than a stray scout. Do not worry, Captain, we shall be fine here.”
The captain turned to Burzasp, who had accompanied him back to the rough tent that had been set up to offer the princess some shade. The Persian horseman knew that was his cue.
“Highness,” he said with as respectful and obsequious a bow as possible without falling to his knees, “the Greek captain is right. The great Cyrus himself warned about dividing forces in the face of the enemy...”
“What enemy?” laughed the princess. “Are you, too, seeing Macedonian faces in every shadow, behind every rock and bush?”
“No, Highness,” replied Burzasp, hiding any offense he might have taken from her reply. “But if a scout does show up, we may not have enough riders to chase him away or kill him – or even spot him. And once we set up a signal beacon, they will see it and send out patrols. All it takes is for one to report back about the presence of an unexplained group of riders camped out here and a troop of Macedonian cavalry will be upon you in a thrice. So, please, Highness, for the sake of my honor if not for your own safety, please cross the channel with us. Besides, we will all be much safer on the island.”
“But for how long?” she replied, starting to see the reason in the request by Burzasp and Dimitrios that she accompany them over the water.
“Not long, Highness,” said Dimitrios. “One of our ships will surely spot the beacon. Besides, we will be on the far side of that island, and thus masked from whatever prying eyes ride along this shore. Even if we are spotted, they will have to cross the channel to get to us...and we will be waiting for them on dry ground on the far shore, arrows notched. And there is little danger of them coming by sea. After all,” he added, “Alexander disbanded his fleet, and we, as always, rule the waves.”
The princess took a moment to consider the argument. She raised one hand, a signal that none other should speak to interrupt her thoughts. After a few breaths, she lowered her hand, raised her gaze to look Dimitrios directly in the eye, and said “very well then. How do you intend to organize our crossing?”
The plan was a simple one, put forward by Klemes in private to his brother.
“This is the channel,” he said, sketching a diagram in the sand. “You should set up three columns of riders. The strongest should be on the outsides, and the princess and her train in the center. That way, should she or any of her women fall from their mount or be swept off their horse, there will be someone to rescue them.”
“And where will you be, Klemes?” he asked.
“In the middle, of course. After all, brother...”
“I know, I know, you're a physician, not a swimmer.”
85
Halicarnassos
Hell, by Alexander
“This time the trumpets shall never call retreat. Not again. Never again,” said Alexander, raising his voice, slamming his fist on the map table and taking a moment to look directly into the eyes (or, in Parmenion's case, eye) of his generals and companions. “We take the city today, even if it takes us all day, and all night, and into the next,” he added with a grim, icy seriousness. “We do not stop, no matter what the cost. Do you understand me?”
Alexander's generals nodded and mumbled variations of “yes, sire,” but their lack of enthusiasm was obvious, as was their resolve.
“You don't believe I mean what I am saying about 'no retreat,' is that it? Well, generals, I am serious. Deadly serious. So serious, in fact, that I have ordered the Companion Cavalry to take position behind each of your commands. They have orders to cut down any man who retreats – and by that I do mean any man – regardless of his rank, station, or birth. And if you think they won't do it, well, you know to whom they are devoted,” added Alexander with a nasty, vicious smile. “And to further ensure that devotion, I have promised to pay them one of Darius' silver arrow coins for each deserter's head they take. Oh,” and he paused to let that sink in, before adding “and a gold one for that of any general who so much as pauses in their assault.”
“Sire! That is not only unnecessary and cruel, but also is an insult to our very honor!” roared Parmenion in outrage. “Your father would never treat his soldiers, let alone his generals, in such a manner.”
Hephaestion shook his head and rolled his eyes. When will Parmenion learn, he thought to himself. The single most guaranteed way to set Alexander off or to insure you will lose an argument is to compare him unfavorably to Philip. How many times had Parmenion made that mistake? Trying to 'school' Alexander with 'what would Philip do – or do not do,' was the worst of all courses to take. Someday Parmenion would learn that – but today, obviously, was not that day.
Alexander's response, as Hephaestion knew it would be, was swift, violent, and explosive. The king drew his sword and lunged for the old general. Had it not been for Cleitos lurching forward to seize Alexander's wrist with his massive hands, the young king would surely have skewered Parmenion. Even with his great strength and advantage in height, weight, and muscle, Cleitos did not stop the king with ease, as the veins bulging in his neck clearly showed.
Ptolemy, too, acted swiftly, knowing just as Hephaestion did what the king would do in response to Parmenion's taunt. He threw his own not inconsiderable weight into shoving the old general out of the path of the king's blade – and took a deep cut in the arm for his troubles. The other generals stepped back and made to draw their own swords until Hephaestion moved to check them from such folly.
“My lords and generals,” said Hephaestion in as loud and as commanding a voice as any the comparatively slight and slender young man had ever used on the parade ground or the battle
field, “my lords and generals!” While a grammatically incomplete sentence, the very phrase was pregnant with caution, and each man in the room – except perhaps the enraged king, the insulted Parmenion, and the bleeding Ptolemy – understood. That shout, plus the general clamor and Ptolemy's scream of pain and surprise, brought in the guards – who, as Hephaestion in his wisdom had ordered, were from his own personal squadron. These were loyal men of the Companion Cavalry – but short of killing the king would do anything – anything – Hephaestion told them to do, and without hesitation, question, or remorse. As such, the commander of the guard looked to Hephaestion for direction as he charged into the tent.
“Guards,” said Hephaestion firmly and as calmly as he could manage, “General Ptolemy has injured himself by accident. Please escort him to the surgeon's tent. And take Parmenion along with you, as he appears to be ill. See that both are well cared for, and remain with them until I come to see them.”
The officer of the guard understood what Hephaestion was saying, that the one man needed a physician and the other needed watching over – and to be kept secure and isolated, lest Parmenion do something even more foolish than what he had already done. Cleitos, in the meantime, gently wrestled Alexander to a stool, and carefully took the sword from his hand. Hephaestion knelt down beside the king, put his arm around his shoulder and sweetly kissed him on the forehead.
“Why does he always do that!” moaned Alexander, placing his head in his hands, weeping with a mix of rage and embarrassment. “I've burned Thebes, won a great battle at the Granicos, taken Miletos and a dozen other cities and still...still he treats me like a child! I am sick of this, Hephaestion. I am sick of him!”
A Captain of Thebes Page 50
