The Atlantis Papyrus

by Jay Penner

  While I pretended that I missed combat, I was secretly pleased with gentler duty and the chance to watch senior men at work.

  A few weeks after my new role, we had moved further east into India closer to the Hyphasis River. The terrain was quite benign; shrubbery and trees dotted the vast plains, and we passed farmers’ fields and abandoned villages on the way.

  One morning Eumenes asked me to join him on his early morning walks. We had respite from the rains and chirps filled the air. We dressed comfortably in loose-fitting chitons and walked by the river that showed its gentle side, like a beautiful woman quiet before raging at her husband.

  “There is a council with seven Indian tribes today,” he said, “Alexander wants to know what it means to go deeper into India.”

  I was surprised. “I thought Porus told him all he needed to know.”

  “He is not satisfied with Porus’ and others answers about the Indian heartland. He thinks they know little about the vast country. Their fantastical stories are difficult to believe. It has become hard to separate truth from nonsense.”

  Alexander was aware of the growing resentment among his soldiers who longed to return home with the spoils of war and wanted to know what he was getting into.

  Eumenes continued, “He hopes that these tribes have intimate knowledge of the Indian empire beyond the river Ganges.”

  He then paused as he knelt to pick some wildflowers, and then wiped his hands on his garment. Then, he said, “I want you to join me.”

  It was an exceptional opportunity to be in the same room with a man who was no less than a god. Eumenes instructed me to pay attention to the words of the translators but watch the behavior of the Indians.

  I sat with the stars of Alexander’s court—Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Craterus, and of course Eumenes, among others. I was transfixed by Alexander; never had I been so close to the King. We waited for him to summon the Indians. Eumenes noticed me tapping my fingers on my knee and shaking my leg. “Calm down,” he said, grinning, “no one here knows you or cares.”

  Soon, twenty Indians walked in. Proud in their ways, they did not bow to the King. They clasped their palms together in greeting and made their way around the seating. Most of them wore jewelry, and many wrapped their heads in bright white cloth. They had anointed their foreheads, shoulders, and chests, which they left bare, with ash and covered their lower body with decorative tunics wrapped around their waist down to their ankles.

  One of them had his head completely shaved but for a small patch of hair on the top of his skull. He was a brahmana—a priest or a teacher. He painted his forehead with three horizontal stripes of ash. He came with a boy who looked regal in his bearing.

  After the pleasantries, which they made many, the two sides got to business. And until the sun reached the high point in the sky they conferred. It was fascinating to watch them describe the land beyond the Hyphasis.

  The conversations were animated. Men raised voices, others made pacifying gestures, some nodded away in the heat, some ate while conversing among themselves, and as the time progressed most simply stopped listening.

  Once the council came to an end and the King bade them goodbye, he ordered that the council regroup later that night to discuss what we heard. Eumenes once again asked me to join them, and when we restarted, the conversation centered on what mattered most to Alexander—what difficulty lay ahead if they marched forward and how might they prepare? The discussion got heated, and I watched in worry as the leaders made assumptions and said things that were simply not true—either on purpose or having heard only parts of conversations. The consensus was that the Indians had told Alexander that he should march east deeper into India.

  Eventually, the King turned to Eumenes.

  "Eumenes?"

  All eyes turned to Eumenes. A hint of irritation showed on some of the senior men who seemed to resent the importance Alexander gave Eumenes.

  Just a bookkeeper.

  "Alexander, I think there is merit in hearing what my restless adjutant has to say, for he has a rather remarkable sense of observation and memory and may have noticed something we have not. I ask you to grant him permission to speak. "

  Alexander nodded. His eyes turned towards me, and so did all the others. I could see them thinking

  What did this man have to say that they did not already know?

  As I tried to speak, my voice, nervous, squeaked. Seleucus yelled, "Why did you bring a crow, Eumenes!"

  That caused much laughter. I was grateful for the distraction. "I am honored to—"

  "What happened to your teeth? You could scare the Indians by just opening your mouth!” Ptolemy bellowed.

  Seleucus and Ptolemy were not unlike each other—both had noble backgrounds, they were of similar age to Alexander, except Seleucus was bigger and muscular compared to Ptolemy, and had a rounder face. They both competed for Alexander’s attention—whether in private or in the battlefield.

  Alexander smiled, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment. I admit I am not a handsome man, but women in the past have admired my physique and my rough face, even if that made me appear more a lout than a man of intelligence or refinement. But I would much rather have a laughing King's council than an angry one.

  "Be quiet!" Alexander admonished them.

  And all eyes were on me.

  I cleared my throat and began.

  "Your majesty, esteemed generals, I observed three things.

  “First, there were not seven tribes here today, but four.

  “Second, the brahmana, who called himself Vishnocottus and the young boy with him Sandrocottus do not belong to any of the tribes, they most certainly found their way into this council through unknown means and came from Taxiles—”

  “I remember them, the priest spoke towards the end, but he was such a bore,” said Craterus.

  “He was lecturing, the translator looked like he wanted to strangle the man,” Ptolemy agreed.

  “As did the other Indians—they interrupted him several times,” said Perdiccas, and he gestured at me, “Continue.”

  “Third, I do believe the chiefs may be lying about the ease of our passage from here on, and the brahmana’s assessment was correct and at odds with his countrymen."

  That drew some howls of feigned anger. Craterus stood up and threw up his hands and reached for a cup of wine. He retracted when the King gave him a sharp look and flicked a finger at him. Alexander's eyes darkened, and in his characteristic style, he angled his face from his neck, looking upward at me. "Talk to me about each one and speak your mind."

  This was a gamble—and my chance, in my little way, to convince the King that we should return.

  I bowed.

  "Each tribe in the region has distinct ornamentation—and yet I noticed only four, not counting the priest and the boy. I do not know why they came here with a lie."

  "Fascinating," said Ptolemy and the others nodded. An encouraging sign that I had their attention.

  "Second, what I found most compelling are the remarks from Vishnocottus the brahmana. May I repeat what they said and correlate my observations from elsewhere?"

  “Yes, go ahead, and do not ask for permission for every sentence,” Alexander said, with a hint of irritation. He seemed not happy with the direction of my speech, but the council was certainly interested.

  "The brahmana spoke near the end, having stayed silent the entire period, and his voice was lost in the din of cross discussions and other Indians shouting or ridiculing him. This is what he said:

  “I would gently disagree with many of my countrymen, King Alexander. The army of Agrammes is larger than they say and more powerful. Allow me to relay the facts:

  “You will have to cover great distances, bear challenging weather, fight fierce people who, while they bear no love for their King, seek to preserve their way of life. Finally, the King's army, the extent of which my fellow men do not fully understand—”

  Alexander lifted his hand, and I stopped. “You sp
eak these words with confidence, do you remember them exactly as he said?”

  “Yes, your majesty. I do. Though of course, I repeat the words of the interpreter.”

  He looked around, and Ptolemy spoke up, “I remember something similar now that he says it, Alexander.”

  Ptolemy then looked at me intently as he scratched his testicles from underneath the loose garment. The humid, wet weather caused itches that afflicted men no matter their station.

  Alexander muttered something at Ptolemy who looked down at his feet. Craterus began to look at something behind us, avoiding meeting the King’s eyes. I decided to persevere. Then I described the army of India, as recounted by the brahmana, causing further consternation.

  Craterus sighed loudly enough for everyone to look at him. “Those are very large numbers, two thousand elephants!”

  “And a thousand chariots?” said Perdiccas, sounding worried.

  “And this is just a fourth of the army…” said Ptolemy. I now had their attention, but Alexander’s irritation was unmistakable.

  “Go on,” encouraged Ptolemy.

  “Behave like generals instead of teenage maidens fearing their gruff husbands!” Alexander’s voice rose at them. But he looked at me and flicked a finger telling me to continue.

  I shifted to come closer to the council seating then described the distance to the capital Pataliputra.

  “That is like crossing Persia all over again, and in far worse conditions!” exclaimed Perdiccas, as he waved a cup in the air.

  “Are you sure you not making this up?” asked Ptolemy—tensed that I was about to push Alexander into a tantrum.

  “I pledge on the gods, sir,” I said and looked around for support. Finally, Perdiccas spoke up. “He is not lying, I remember fragments of this, but clearly we were not paying attention by then.”

  “That is because you are a poor drunk,” said Seleucus.

  “Says the man who soils his tunic after just a few cups!” retorted Perdiccas, but the banter broke the tension, and I felt confident to continue to relay the brahmana’s words.

  “India’s climate is unlike Gandhara, or Persia. Your army, as it walks these vast distances, will find the rains, snow, and sun as your first enemy, before you even face the King of India.

  “Then come the people. While it is true that the they are unhappy with the king—for they see him as a cruel despot and of lower blood, they are fiercely loyal to their land and will look unkindly upon a foreigner that interrupts their way of life.”

  “Those chiefs made it sound like we would be welcomed as liberators,” said Seleucus. He was imposingly large, and the mass of his golden hair bobbed as he theatrically shook it.

  Eumenes finally spoke. “How many of the saints and tribes we have met so far treated us as liberators?” he asked, and no one answered.

  “Yes, Eumenes, you have spoken to every saint and tribe, now keep your mouth shut,” Alexander yelled at him. Eumenes bent his head, but I could see him suppressing a grin. Ptolemy guffawed. It was a revelation to me seeing these men behave like collegial louts, and yet they were world conquerors. Strange are the ways of life.

  “To the South of Agrammes' kingdom are the proud Gangaridays. Their capital lays further four hundred miles to the east of Pataliputra. While the kingdoms detest each other, there are royal marriages between the two, causing an uneasy truce. You may be god where you come from, King Alexander, but you are an unknown in the heart of India.”

  Alexander raised his eyebrows and I sensed his mood darken.

  The room went deathly quiet. For several moments no man stirred, and my palms turned cold.

  “I am only conveying his words, Your Majesty, not mine—” I stuttered.

  “Alexander was god even before—” started Craterus, and Perdiccas placed his palm on Craterus’ forearm to silence him. There were rumors that Craterus was slowly falling out of favor with the King due to his snide remarks.

  Alexander said nothing. I continued.

  “Your incursion will embolden them to join hands and face a foreign invader. You have seen the determination of those that have fought you, now imagine people in far greater numbers with the same spirit. These I bring to you for consideration."

  I paused and looked around. The council had listened attentively, and many recognized that they had not paid attention to what the brahmana had said. But hearing me recount it in exact detail, there came a realization that this priest had spoken in the clearest terms with distances, names, and places, compared to vague generalities and fantastical descriptions of the rest.

  "Your recollection is impressive, but why must we believe what this priest said? How do we know he has no personal stake? Is he a spy of their King? We should bring him and the boy back and put them to torture to get the truth," said Craterus.

  "The brahmana’s descriptions match the most with several reports we have heard in the past year, sir.”

  Craterus raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

  I then recounted in detail my various conversations with Indians from different parts during the campaign, and how those details, from people unrelated, matched to what the brahmana said, thereby validating those details.

  Alexander was furious. “It cannot be that a single man’s account holds sway over the all the other men! How do we know you are not making this up?”

  Blood drained from my face.

  I knew the implications of the angry King—Alexander had murdered one of his closest friends, Cleitus the Black, in a fit of rage not too long ago. And that was not the only time. He had his court historian Callisthenes, nephew of his revered teacher, imprisoned and put to death based on charges which to all of us seemed patently false.

  Craterus, much to my surprise, intervened.

  “He has nothing to gain from this Alexander. Let us discuss this further ourselves.”

  Alexander dismissed me. I thought I had impressed the ruling council—to detriment or profit, only time would tell.

  I had, of course, not mentioned one interesting aspect of the council discussions. More than once, I had noticed that the brahmana and his pupil made distinct eye contact with Eumenes, Ptolemy, and Seleucus, and had exchanged nods when they thought no one was looking.

  They had certainly made prior contact, but I decided to ignore it for I had a hunch what mischief was afoot.

  Counter to the wishes and counsel of his Somatophylakes, Alexander announced that they would march east deeper into India.

  However, without the King’s knowledge, the wily generals—I would never find out who, but whispers suggested Ptolemy, Seleucus, and Eumenes—seeded misinformation among the troops that the Indians had strongly recommended the King against proceeding. It seems they had exaggerated the numbers I mentioned.

  The four armies of the Indian King became five.

  The five thousand archers became twenty-five thousand.

  The enmity between the Kingdoms became a great friendship and unbreakable bond.

  The elephants became bigger, faster, more fearless, and far greater in number than ever mentioned. The only thing it seems they were incapable of was flying.

  The fertile but mildly challenging terrain across the Ganges became “impassable mountains and fierce warriors skilled at fighting in the snow.”

  The brahmana became “an expert and a former minister in the King of India’s court.”

  There was even insinuation that some of the Indians in the council were spies for Agrammes sent to assess Alexander and his armies.

  It became impossible to tell truth from lie.

  The army, exhausted, homesick, and strongly wishing to return to stable governed areas in Macedon and Asia, mutinied. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. They were riotous, insubordinate, and much to the astonishment of the King, unwilling to listen to anything he said. After sulking in his tent for days, Alexander finally relented.

  While I worried for my life, nothing untoward happened. I was ecstatic that we were on the way back
—though the worry that I had not made enough money to free my family remained. We began our return journey on the Indus river towards the southern seas, followed by a dangerous and long march along the Gedrosian desert with Alexander, while the Navy, led by admiral Nearchus, tracked along the coast.

  I was relieved upon seeing the magnificent gates of the most famous city in Mesopotamia.

  Babylon.

  MACEDON

  ❅

  Apollonia stood with her head hung low as Diona harangued her about incomplete work. Her husband, Krokinos, stood by his wife not saying much for when his wife flew into a rage Krokinos knew the best course of action was to be quiet.

  Diona leaned and poked Apollonia’s frail shoulder, causing her to flinch. Apollonia’s eyes opened wide—neither Krokinos nor his wife had ever touched her before. Lately, things had taken a turn for the worse. The initial days after Deon left, Krokinos was surprisingly gentle. He let Apollonia recover from the shock and sorrow and allowed the mother and daughter to settle in the servant’s quarters. The work was light, and Krokinos had assured her multiple times that as soon as Deon settled the debt, they were free to leave. But he never told her what the debt was.

  But Apollonia learned recently that business was getting harder for Krokinos. The world was at shock that King Alexander had died, and the quarreling among regional leaders had intensified, putting pressure on businessmen such as Krokinos who were now harassed on a regular basis for tax and protection. All this unpleasantness from work bled into the house and mood of the master, and the mistress, had soured. Now it seemed like even minor transgressions were being treated far more harshly than before.

  Krokinos tried to mollify his wife but she swatted away his hand, and he retreated to his study.

  Apollonia’s back hurt. She had lost weight, and her eyes had sunken. Her once lustrous hair no longer had the shine or the bounce. Each day was a painful reminder of how their life had transformed from idyllic bliss to a glimpse of Hades. Her sadness had transferred to her daughter. The joy and innocence of childhood had vanished under the oppression—her friends had stopped coming to play. The honey chews were no longer available. Alexa was a very quiet little girl now, and her sorrowful looks felt like daggers in Apollonia’s gut.