Halime hesitated to reply only as long as it took for her to wipe the tears of gratitude from her eyes. “Of course I will go with you. I'd wondered if you'd ask.”
As for where Barsine would be going, that was decided in council the next morning; a council at which Memnon, Autophradates, Orontobates, the governor of Cos, and the princess (who insisted upon bringing Halime with her) were present. Dimitrios was also present, although he was unsure as to why, or as what. Was he still an aide on Memnon's staff? Was he now a member of Barsine's household? After the scene Barsine had made on the flagship, he knew he was at least not going to be sent home in disgrace – not that he had a home to go to. And if he were to be sent back into the battle line, why was he ordered to be here, with the movers and shakers of his shrinking universe?
The answer was immediately forthcoming.
“Gentlemen – and my dear wife – it is apparent that neither of my plans to stop, let alone defeat Alexander have succeeded. The first, to scorch the earth ahead of him to deny his army food, fodder, shelter or even drinkable water, was a non-starter...”
“And it is not likely to be accepted by the satraps, nobles and men of property in the provinces now threatened by Alexander,” interjected Orontobates. “We will fight for our land – but we will not destroy it. The land is our past, our present, and our future. We will shed our blood on it and for it – and even breathe out our last breath for it, but destroy it? Never. If you even ask men to do that,” sighed Orontobates, “you may as well just give them a Macedonian uniform. They'll fight for whomever promises to keep the land – their land – safe.”
The governor of Cos rather meekly nodded in agreement with Orontobates, as Memnon had suspected he would. Even Barsine shrugged in agreement with the two governors, not because she did not see the wisdom of Memnon's plan, but because she knew her class would never implement it.
“Well, then, that leaves us with two options,” sighed Memnon. “The first is to try to draw off Alexander's Greek troops.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” asked Orontobates.
“By attacking Greece itself,” said Memnon loudly, stabbing a small dagger into the map laid out before him.
“I see you have stuck the dagger into the heart of Athens,” teased Orontobates. “Why not into Macedonia itself?”
“Because there is little of value in Macedonia worth taking or defending, let alone threatening. Alexander has left a sizable corps to defend the homeland...”
“Along with his mother,” added Autophradates with a grimace.
“Yes, along with his mother,” mumbled Memnon in agreement. “She is a force of nature, that one. I came to know her when I was in Macedonia. While I am not sure that she is the witch they say she is, neither am I sure that she isn't. Either way, she is not someone with whom I would care to tangle. Greece, however, is another story. What city states there have sent Alexander men, ships, and money, did so grudgingly. As my Theban friend over there will confirm, there is little love between the Greeks and the Macedonians. Isn't that right, Captain Dimitrios?”
This was not the first time that Memnon had encouraged Dimitrios to speak at a staff meeting, but this was different. He was not asking his opinion – he was demanding he corroborate what Memnon had just said.
“The General is correct. Take me, for instance, and Ephialtes, the gods keep his soul safe, and many other Greeks in your army and navy,” continued Dimitrios. “We do not fight just for pay, or to find adventure, like most mercenaries of old. Not this time,” he added, pausing for effect. “This time it is different. Most of us have a score to settle with the Macedonians. There are only two things that can unite the many Greek nations, tribes, and cities. The first, as you fellows already learned – and learned twice, is to defend against a Persian invasion.”
Orontobates and Autophradates both bristled at that, for every Persian remembered Marathon, Salamis, and Plateai every bit as well as any Greek, but for a much different reason.
“The second, as we showed at Chaeronea,” sighed Dimitrios, “is to defy any tyrant who seeks to tell us what to do. Philip was just such a creature, and Alexander is the same. You think of Greeks and Macedonians as one, but we do not. Alexander and his Macedonians are as foreign to us...as, well, as you are.”
Memnon nodded a quiet thank you toward Dimitrios, then turned back to the map.
“Alexander has dispersed his fleet. That leaves the seas and coasts of Greece, and her islands, ripe for the picking. The admiral and I will strike out at each of those cities and islands. Not to slash, and pillage, and burn – unless we have to – but to intimidate, cajole, threaten, bribe, and otherwise convince them to abandon their support for Alexander. At the very least they will need to call home the forces they sent to back his invasion, and keep their men, money, and supplies home to defend against us, should we attack. If I cannot scorch the earth ahead of him, then I can at least cut the umbilical cord behind him. And maybe, maybe,” he added forcefully, “maybe we can convince enough of those states to join with us in a war of liberation – a war to give Greece back to the Greeks!”
Dimitrios could not have asked for more. This was the very reason why he had taken up the sword against Alexander – that, and of course revenge for the devastation of his home city. Without thinking, he drew his sword, raised it up high and shouted “freedom!” at the top of his lungs.
The others in the room turned about to stare at this curious and loud outburst, making Dimitrios feel something akin to a child who had broken a vase or a puppy who had peed on a rug. Suitably, if silently, chastised, he returned his sword to his scabbard and came to attention.
“And that, gentleman, and my lady,” said Memnon with a smile, “is exactly the kind of reaction I hope to inspire among my fellow Greeks.”
“You're not really a Greek, dear, you know that, don't you?” teased Barsine. “He's from Rhodes, you know,” she said to the others with a laugh.
“But neither is he a Persian, other than by marriage,” said Orontobates with a superior slither. “The people of Rhodes are neither fish nor fowl, in the sense that they are neither Persian nor Greek. But they may be Greek enough that the cities on the mainland and on the islands, and in the Greek colonies, may just buy it. It is a risky plan, but it might just work,” the governor added in support.
The others did not realize that he did offer his support not so much because he felt it would work as much as he was glad to be rid of Memnon, of whom he felt increasingly jealous. Memnon had lost two key cities to Alexander, but at least he had the wounds to show for his troubles. All Orontobates had to show was some damp robes and empty treasure chests – which he didn't even really have, as those chests were at the bottom of Halicarnassos’ harbor.
After the meeting broke up, Memnon and Barsine retired to as private a chamber as could be found inside a palace, where even the walls have ears. Once inside, she closed and locked the door and, quite angrily and with far more strength than one would expect from someone of her station and physique, pushed him hard up against the wall.
“You're not going off on some damn pirate raid, not without me, you're not!” said Barsine quite loudly. “I didn't traipse half way across Asia Minor, fight off bandits and mercenaries, and nearly drown just to kiss you goodbye again, you know! If you are going, well, husband, I am going with you!”
“No, you will not,” interjected the general. “Princess or no princess, there is no place on board any of my ships for a woman – and especially one of royal blood.”
The princess shot virtual arrows out of her eyes at Memnon.
“I am, too, going...General,” she said, speaking the last word very slowly and deliberately, so as to emphasize that his rank did not give him the authority to push around a princess.
“No, my dear, you are not. You cannot,” said Memnon.
“So? Now you think you can tell me what to do?” she added, emphasis on the 'you.' “You don't think I can hold my own with the bo
ys? Did you learn nothing from those long months in Halicarnassos? May I remind you that Halicarnassos is where Queen Artemisia came from? The queen who led the premier squadron of Xerxes fleet when it fought at Salamis?”
“And look what happened to her...” Memnon started to say.
“Yes, look!” said Barsine. “She...”
“She lost most of her ships and used the rest to escort Xerxes' children to safety back home,” said Memnon, “and that is what I need you to do. I need you to take our children far, far away from all of this...just as Artemisia did for Xerxes. Besides,” he added softly, his voice a verbal caress, “I could not do my duty if you were with me.”
“What? What do you mean?” asked the princess, quietly.
“I would not be able to concentrate on the war if you were with me.”
“Am I that much of a distraction?” she replied playfully, even coquettishly.
“Well, to be honest...yes,” he replied, taking her hands gently into his own. “But more than that. I would always be looking over my shoulder, worrying that something might happen to you...”
“Memnon, haven't I just shown you that I can fight and...”
“Yes, yes my dear, you have...but if you were with me, all of my plans would be clouded by fear of putting you in danger. I would never be able to focus all of my energies, all of my strength on the war or on any battle in which we became engaged. Worrying about you would make me cautious, make me less bold, and make me less of a general. I am and always shall be your husband, but out there,” he said, pointing to the sea, “I need to be a general, and not just a general first, but also a general second, third, and fourth. And if anything did happen to you...”
Barsine rarely lost an argument, or had anyone say “no” to her, but as she looked into Memnon's eyes she knew he was right. She put her head close to his, fought back a tear,and somehow managed to say “all right. I will do as you ask. Our children, by the way, are surely in Damascus by now. But that may not be far enough from this Macedonian monster to be safe. I will take them to Susa, or Persepolis, or even Babylon if needs be.”
Memnon smiled a great sigh of relief, held her even closer and gave her as passionate a kiss as he could, considering where he was and who was about. As the two parted, Memnon told Barsine: “I am not sending you away only for those reasons, or just to keep you safe, my love. Or even because the children need their mother. I have a mission for you, and it is one that only you can accomplish with any chance of success.”
“What?” said the princess in surprise. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“I need you to make a case for me to the King of Kings.”
“What case? And why me?”
“My plan of campaign, that's what I want you to explain to him. As for the 'why,' well, that is because he will listen to you. He likes you, he trusts you, and you share the same blood.”
Memnon and Barsine were not allowed much of a respite, but were called back to the council chamber by the governor. Dimitrios went along with the pair, as much as a guard as an aide, for the captain did not wholly trust the governor. The council was called again because, as more and more ships came trickling back into the harbor, each with more tales of woe about the fate of Halicarnassos, the governor and even the admiral had become more concerned. They sought reassurance that all would be well. Memnon tried to give that to them by explaining his plan, and how he intended to send his wife to inform Darius of what he intended and proposed.
“Why not send Orontobates?” interrupted the governor. “He is a satrap, after all.”
“Yes,” interrupted the general, “but he is a satrap without a throne, and without – pardon my candor, Orontobates – without a pot to piss in. Besides,” he leaned in close and added in a whisper so only he could hear, “Darius doesn't trust him. He'd do just the opposite of what Orontobates proposed – if he even granted him an audience at all.”
“What? What are you saying about me?” asked Orontobates in surprise as he burst into the chamber.
“Nothing much,” said Memnon, “just that how much stronger the proposal we wish to put forward to Darius would be if both you and the princess were there to present it to him. My credit, I am sure, is very low with him right now. Only my dear wife, the Princess Barsine, can get close enough to him to explain what has happened, and what I will try to do to set things right.”
“And just what is this proposal?” asked Orontobates with a scowl. “What is this idea that is so wonderful that you need a princess of the blood to sell it?”
“Do not worry, Orontobates,” replied Barsine with a sigh. “He's explained his strategy to me. Not that I'm agreeing to it, mind you,” she added, turning to her husband,” as I still don't intend to let you go gallivanting around the Aegean without me, like some randy sailor on leave, or playing at Odysseas...”
That got a laugh from even the dour admiral and sour satrap, and even Dimitrios had to struggle not to do the same.
“My proposal,” Memnon explained to the satrap, “as I told my dear, sweet, Barsine, is that our army cannot stand up to the Macedonians, not as it is.”
“What!” said Orontobates. “The King of Kings can call up one hundred thousand, two hundred thousand – and more, many more, men, enough to drown that little bugger...”
“Like Alexander almost drowned you?” chortled the admiral.
“Yes, sort of,” grimaced Orontobates, “although not in water, but in blood!”
“But not one of them – except maybe the Immortals – can match the Macedonians,” continued Memnon. “Our light cavalry are a fickle and finicky mob of marauders. Our noble cavalry is brave but woefully undisciplined, as we saw at the Granicos! Everyone is too proud to take orders from anyone else, let alone let somebody else hog the glory! And our infantry...well...quite honestly...in the open field they're worthless. Remember how the satraps had to chain them to the ground in order to make them stand? And then what did they do? They threw down their arms and begged the Macedonians for mercy...”
“So,” sighed Orontobates shaking his head. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell the King of Kings that the largest army in the world, fielded by the largest empire the world has ever seen, can't stop two score thousand barbarians?”
“Well, not if you put it that way...and that is why I don't want you to be the one explaining this to Darius. My wife will do the talking. After all, you lack, how shall I put it, her special charms.”
“Memnon!” the princess shouted in exasperation, folding her arms across her rather ample chest in a pout.
“I am sorry, my dear,” Memnon said, “but there is nobody in the world that can hold Darius' attention like you can. He will listen to you, if only to stare into your beautiful...eyes. And what I want you to tell him is that we cannot stop the Macedonians with the army we have. We have to raise a new army – and a new kind of army. An army that is disciplined, equipped, and prepared to fight Alexander. We don't have the time to train a phalanx of pikemen like he has – it takes years to learn how to march without tripping over those long pikes, let alone maneuver or fight with them. Gods, they are 12, 16 or even 18 feet long!”
“So what is this 'new' army of yours about then?” the admiral asked.
“We call up our mountain fighters – men who are hunters, good with both bow and spear. We have them fight the way the Assyrians of old fought. The way the Immortals fight: front ranks spears and shields. Rear ranks bows. The Macedonian infantry fight in deep formations. Massive blocks that make impossible to miss targets, even when they close for hand to hand. The spearmen keep the front ranks of Macedonians at bay while the archers fire volley after volley after volley overhead into the back ranks of the phalanx. It would help if we could train those front rank spearmen to fight like hoplites...and that, Dimitrios, is where you come in,” he added, catching the captain by surprise as he motioned for him to approach.
“Me?”
“Yes,” said Memnon. “You. I'd
give this task to Ephialtes but, as you know...”
“Know what?”
“That he did not escape,” Memnon said with a quiver in his voice and tears starting to form in his eyes. “He stayed behind to give the rest of us time to get away. That,” he said, choking back his emotion, “and because he told me he would never again retreat. 'I'd rather die on my feet with a thousand wounds than run away from that little bully again,’ he told me just before the final assault began. That was the last I saw of him.”
Dimitrios was, surprisingly, not stunned by the news of Ephialtes death.
“That is the way he wanted to die,” said Dimitrios quietly. “A warrior's death. True, he wanted to win at least one battle against Alexander,” the captain added, “but at least he went down fighting Alexander. Did we at least get to recover his body?”
“Sadly, no,” replied Memnon. “When he went down there were just too many of the enemy. I was considering sending a herald to the Macedonian camp to ask for his body...or that at least he be given the proper rites.”
“No, don't do that,” replied Dimitrios.
“Why not?” asked Memnon, genuinely perplexed.
“First of all, because he would not want to be singled out and separated from his men – not even in death. Second, most important, is because Ephialtes never asked Alexander for anything while he was alive, and to ask any favor from the Macedonian king now would only embarrass and anger Ephialtes' shade. Even worse, Alexander, knowing he is dead, might seek out Ephialtes' corpse – and inflict unspeakable horrors on it, just out of spite.”
“Yes, you are right – on both counts. Alexander is going to be so angry when he finds out that I have slipped through his grasp again, there is no telling what he might do in his rage. Even as a boy, he had quite a nasty temper. He was the kind of child who would drown small animals and break the wings of birds just to hear them screech. Well, enough of that,” he concluded with a mighty harrumph. “So, what of my request? Will you help me raise this new army I propose?”
A Captain of Thebes Page 58
