Alexander

by H A CULLEY

  At this point he flourished the offending letter and two soldiers moved forward to seize Attalus’ arms before he could react.

  ‘The treacherous officer who has been plotting with the Athenians is Attalus.’

  He turned to Attalus, who was struggling to say something to the army before Iphitos stepped forward to disarm him and then gag him whilst his hands were bound together.

  Parmenion handed the letter to Iphitos who then read it out aloud.

  ‘You have heard the evidence, what is your verdict?’

  ‘Guilty, guilty.’ Attalus had a poor reputation as a commander and he had few real supporters amongst the officers or the rank and file.

  ‘Very well. I renounce you as my son-in-law and reduce you in rank to that of the lowest soldier in the army, Attalus. You have heard the verdict of your fellow soldiers. Do you have anything to say before you are executed?’

  Attalus knew that there was nothing he could say now that would save him so he just shook his head.

  He knelt on the dais and a large Illyrian stepped forward with an axe. He lifted it on high and brought it down on the former strategos’ neck. The blow severed the neck cleanly and blood gushed out as the heart gave its final pump. The headless corpse collapsed sideways onto the planking of the dais as the head bounced once and came to a halt. A sombre silence greeted the execution and the assembly broke up quietly as the soldiers made their way back to their lines.

  When the army marched out to meet the Lydians the next day the mood was sombre. The death of Philip and the execution of Attalus had changed the euphoric confidence displayed by the army hitherto. Many believed that gods had turned against them and that, as a consequence, they were marching to disaster. Alexander was popular and many admired his conduct at Chaeronea when he played a significant part in defeating the armies of Athens, Thebes and their allies. However, he was only twenty and lacked his father’s experience. He was considered to be mercurial and lucky rather than sound and that worried the veterans.

  One of his scouts came back to report that the Lydian army was drawn up across a broad valley three miles ahead. Their formation was fairly traditional with the hoplite phalanx in the centre and light spearmen on the wings. Their archers and slingers stood in front of the infantry and their cavalry was kept in reserve. Parmenion smiled to himself. Perhaps he could teach Memnon of Rhodes a few things after all.

  Parmenion and Iphitos, who had been appointed as deputy commander after Attalus’ execution, sat on top of a small hill with the two taxiarchs commanding the infantry and the cavalry and studied the topography of the battlefield. The opposing strategos, Memnon, had anchored the Persian right wing on the small river that ran through the valley and his left wing on a boulder field at the base of the hills that delineated the valley. That would make it difficult for him to deploy his cavalry reserve without disrupting his infantry formations. He decided to place his own heavy cavalry on his left wing by the river with the Thracian light horsemen behind then as his reserve. The peltasts and the light spearmen would occupy the boulder field and the gastraphetes would take up their usual posts in front of the hoplites. As he had twice the number of them compared to Memnon, they faced the latter’s Rhodian hoplites and the enemy light spearmen on their left flank.

  Parmenion began by ordering his cavalry to charge the spearmen on Memnon’s right flank but, to his surprise they refused. Their taxiarch rode up to say that, whilst they would defend themselves against attack, they were fearful of taking the offensive. ‘The gods are displeased with us and we won’t take any risks,’ was how the taxiarch put it. The same malaise seemed to have struck the rest of the army as they sullenly stood there in the hot sun refusing to attack.

  Memnon must have been puzzled by the peculiar behaviour of the Macedonians and he sent his archers and slingers forward to open proceedings. However, before they came within range the gastraphetes opened up and a hundred of them were killed before they got close enough to engage the Macedonians. The gastraphetes killed a few more before they suddenly withdrew behind the phalanx, much to the consternation of the latter. Parmenion’s hoplites stayed behind their shields until one or two lucky arrows and stones struck a few of them down. That changed their attitude and the whole Macedonian phalanx moved forward in a ragged line to attack the peltasts.

  Once the hoplites had started to move their officers regained control and yelled at their men until the formation was restored to order. The archers and slingers didn’t wait to be cut down but retreated into the ranks of their own infantry. Having halted the annoying attacks of arrows and stones, the phalanx halted once more, unwilling to advance further.

  Parmenion could see that his situation was precarious. With his demoralised army unwilling to press home an attack this was a battle he was never going to win and, although hundreds of casualties had been inflicted on the Lydian peltasts for the loss of a handful of his own men, a determined attack by Memnon’s army could well be successful. At that moment Theon rode forward to speak quietly to Iphitos, who then turned to Parmenion. A minutes later Theon headed down the hill and rode over to where the Thracian ilium waited.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ the young man told the Iliarch in command. We came here to free the coastal Greek cities from the barbarian yoke. All we have to do is to defeat this rag tag of an army and there is nothing to stop us from doing just that.’

  ‘I agree,’ the Iliarch replied, shrugging his shoulders, ‘but I can’t persuade this dejected lot to move.’

  ‘Are you cowards like the Macedonians, Illyrians and Thessalians?’ Theon yelled at the disgruntled men, referring to the makeup of Parmenion’s army. ‘Well? Do you want to show them that we Thracians are superior to them?’

  A few men began to look at him with interest and the odd grunt of ‘yes’ greeted his question.

  ‘Who will follow me and your iliarch and show this apathetic bunch what real men are made of?’

  Several nodded and most began to wave their spears, which he took as assent.

  ‘Good then follow us through this load of pathetic cowards in front of us and the next time the peltasts appear we’ll slaughter them.’

  There was a lot of name calling and quite a bit of jostling as the Thracians moved through the sullen ranks of the Macedonian cavalry. As they re-formed in front of them the enemy archers and slingers ran forward once more to pepper the enemy, though this time they appeared through their massed light spearmen and concentrated on the peltasts and spearmen on the Macedonian right flank. The Macedonian peltasts returned their fire and both sides started to take casualties.

  Suddenly the Thracians charged along the front of both armies and tore into the Lydian archers and slingers. It was a suicidal thing to do but they did a great deal of damage before the Lydian spearmen ran forward to cut them off. Seizing the opportunity, Parmenion ordered the right hand chiliarchy to move forward into the gap that had now opened up between the Rhodian hoplites and the Lydian spearmen and attack the flank of the enemy phalanx. He breathed a sigh of relief when the men obeyed his order and, now that his flank had been turned, Memnon had no option but to order his infantry to retreat. This they did in good order and they reformed a quarter of a mile back from their original position.

  The surviving Thracians rode back though the gap left by the Macedonian chiliarchy just before the latter returned to their original position. Of the two hundred and fifty who had ridden to attack the enemy peltasts a hundred had died or been badly wounded. They wouldn’t take any further part in the battle but they had killed hundreds of the enemy before they withdrew.

  Parmenion calculated that the enemy had lost over two thousand men in all whereas he had suffered no more than a couple of hundred casualties. Had his men followed his orders he knew that he could have destroyed the Lydians but, as it was, there was no point in continuing the farce. He gave orders for his army to retreat, covered by the cavalry. This was an order that was obeyed with alacrity and by dusk the Macedonian army h
ad withdrawn by five miles or more.

  Memnon had been left in possession of the battlefield and was therefore technically the victor but, as he later remarked to his senior officers, ‘another victory like that and I won’t have an army left.’ He decided not to pursue Parmenion in case he walked into a trap, but instead he retraced his steps to Sardis, even though that meant facing the wrath of Spithridates.

  When Enyo had seen Theon galloping off to talk to the Thracian Iliarch her heart sank. She knew that he was about to do something heroic, and therefore stupid. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw the Thracian horsemen move off to attack the Lydian archers and slingers. Once she caught a glimpse of him as he was the only one bareheaded; all the rest wore helmets. He was dressed just in his exomis and sandals and was armed only with a sword. He didn’t even have a shield. Sitting on the hill with her father and Parmenion she felt impotent. She was tempted to ride down and join in the melee but she knew that getting herself killed would help nobody. She watched anxiously but she didn’t catch a glimpse of Theon again.

  When the Thracians had joined Theon and their Iliarch in their mad dash between the two armies into the attack, the Iliarch detailed four men to protect Theon and one of them gave him his shield. At first it was like spearing fish in a barrel and Theon cut down the enemy archers and slingers without regard to his own safety. Their quarry were too busy trying to escape to put up much resistance and, in any case, they couldn’t use their weapons at such close range. A few had daggers and one or two Thracians were wounded in the leg or their horse was stabbed but they were few in number.

  Things changed when the Lydian spearmen entered the fray. They had spears to wound and kill the horses and even wound some of the riders, and they had shields to protect themselves with. Furthermore their numbers were overwhelming. More and more Thracians were pulled from their horses and killed until the Iliarch ordered the retreat. Unfortunately, by that time it was too late for Theon.

  All four of his protectors had been killed by the time that he was unseated and dragged to the ground. Unlike the Thracians, who all wore a plain blue exomis, Theon’s was scarlet embroidered with gold wire. Fortunately for him the officer in charge of those who had captured him realised that he was valuable and stopped his men from killing him out of hand. Instead he was taken prisoner, one of only three who were - the others being a lochagos of the peltasts and a tetrachos of the Thracian cavalry.

  Enyo was unaware of this and didn’t find out that Theon was missing, presumed dead, until the army camped for the night. She broke down and wept and nothing that Iphitos could say brought her any comfort.

  -X-

  Much to his surprise, Theon and his two fellow prisoners were treated well. Their hands were bound but they were put into a cart to travel, were fed and watered and even allowed to void their bowels in privacy, though they were surrounded by guards facing outwards at such times. When they stopped for the second night Memnon sent for them.

  ‘You fought bravely and so I am going to offer you a chance to join your fellow Greeks and serve in my army. If you accept you will swear an oath of loyalty to me and join my army holding your present ranks. If you refuse I will hand you over to Spithridates and he will do with you as he wills. Normally that means either public execution or a slow and painful death under torture. The choice is yours.’

  ‘We will serve you, kyrios,’ the lochagos, being the senior, said immediately.

  ‘Good, now what were your ranks and units?’

  ‘I was a lochagos commanding two hundred and fifty spearmen, kyrios.’

  ‘And I am a tetrachos in the Thracian light cavalry.’

  ‘Don’t you mean were? Good, I can find you equivalent positions replacing some of those I lost yesterday. However, you will have to learn Farsi first. What about you?’ He turned to Theon. ‘You’re young but, judging by your exomis and the fine leather your sandals are made of, you presumably held a senior post in Parmenion’s army?’

  ‘I’m not in the army, strategos. My father-in-law is Iphitos, Parmenion’s senior taxiarch, and he brought me along for the experience.’

  Theon had thought long and hard about what he ought to say and decided that the best policy was to tell the truth, up to a point at any rate. He wasn’t about to confess that he was a spy.

  ‘Why were you in the middle of the fighting when you were captured then?’

  ‘I suppose that I got carried away and joined my countrymen when they charged.’

  ‘Yes, I thought that your accent wasn’t entirely Macedonian. You’re a Thracian then?’

  ‘I was, yes, but I was captured by the Macedonians when I was a boy.’

  Again that was partially true. The person who had captured him had been Enyo and then they had fallen in love with each other.

  ‘I see. What I am I going to do with you, though? Perhaps I can use you as a negotiating tool? We’ll see. For now you’ll give me your oath not to escape and you can join my staff.’

  Theon’s dearest wish was to escape but he had little option but to agree.

  -X-

  Parmenion had paraded his men once again as soon as he was sure that Memnon had withdrawn to central Lydia.

  ‘You threw away a certain victory yesterday and because of your cowardly failure to fight like the soldiers you are, a hundred and thirty brave Thracians, your comrades in arms, died needlessly.’

  ‘I should take one in ten of you, chosen by lot, and execute you. That’s the punishment for disobedience and cowardice on the battlefield. If that ever happens again, I promise you that I will do just that.’

  He looked over his men from the raised dais and saw with satisfaction that everyone had bowed his head in shame. Now he had used the stick it was time to use the carrot.

  ‘Tomorrow we continue our march along the coast liberating Greek cities as we go until we reach Ephesus. I have no doubt that we will be greeted like liberators and you will be showered with gifts, food and money, not to mention the odd grateful maiden. That will be a welcome for heroes. Just make sure that you behave like heroes the next time we meet the Persians in the field.’

  He left the dais to the cheers of his men. He had no doubt that the next time he met Memnon it would be a very different story.

  It was, but not in the way that Parmenion had anticipated. He had just started his march along the coast of Lydia when a messenger rode up to his overnight camp and told the sentries that he had a message for their strategos from Memnon of Rhodes. The man was disarmed and taken to Parmenion’s tent where he was in discussion with Iphitos, his other two taxiarchs and Enyo. Enyo was there being briefed on her next mission, which was to infiltrate the next city and warn the Greek population of Parmenion’s advance. She was still mourning the loss of Theon, but she had welcomed the chance to do something worthwhile instead of just moping around.

  The message surprised everyone. It was an invitation for Parmenion to meet Memnon to discuss a truce. The messenger was told that Parmenion would send a reply back with him in the morning. After a great deal of discussion it was agreed that the two should meet to see what Memnon proposed but the Macedonians feared a trap. They therefore decided that they should meet at sea. Two ships of equal size would convey the two strategoi and they would tie up alongside each other so that the two men could talk face to face, but remain on their own ship.

  Three days later the two ships rendezvoused between the Anatolian mainland and the island of Rhodes.

  ‘What do you want Memnon?’

  ‘I came to offer you a deal, Parmenion. A truce for one month and, in return, you stay where you are and I won’t attack you.’

  ‘Why? What happens after the month is up?’

  ‘Although I claim the Battle of Magnesia as a victory, the truth is my Persian troops suffered significant losses and they are unwilling to meet you in battle again. Next time they might not be so lucky and you might not hold most of your army in check. Why did you, by the way? It’s be puzzling me ever
since.’

  ‘Yes, I understand why you want a truce in the circumstances but why only for a month?’

  ‘I have my reasons.’

  ‘Very well. But you’ve told me that your army won’t risk another engagement with us. Why should I agree? What I have I got to gain?’

  Memnon turned and beckoned one of the men standing behind him dressed in a himation with a flap over his head hiding his face. When the man joined him Parmenion saw that his hands were tied. Memnon pulled the himation aside to reveal the face of Theon.

  Both Parmenion and Iphitos were astounded and Enyo gasped before falling to her knees, sobbing with relief.

  ‘You can have Theon back. I understand that he’s your taxiarch’s son-in-law. However, if you don’t agree, I’ll hand him over to Spithridates, who’ll no doubt devise a slow and painful death for him.’

  Parmenion smiled. He had worked out why Memnon was so anxious for a month’s grace.

  ‘Oh, I’ll agree. The liberation of the Greek cities can wait for that long. After all, Alexander is busy sorting out a few problems in Greece at the moment. He’ll be here soon, but not in the next month or so. It’s why you want a short truce that intrigues me. You have a reputation as a successful military commander which Magnesia threatens to tarnish. If you suffer a resounding defeat the next time we meet, which you will, the Persians will lose faith in you and you’ll be unemployable. My guess is that you’ve been recalled to Persepolis by Darius to help him prepare for Alexander’s inevitable invasion and you don’t want anything embarrassing to happen before you depart. Once you’ve handed over your command here, I can thrash Spithridates and his Lydian rabble and you couldn’t care less. Am I correct?’

  The flush on Memnon face told Parmenion that he’d struck lucky.

  ‘Very well. You have my word that we’ll stay where we are for one month exactly if you swear by the gods that we won’t be attacked and you hand over Theon now.’