by Jay Penner
Eumenes was summoned and told of Perdiccas’ order. It hurt Eumenes that Perdiccas had ignored his recommendation, but it was not very surprising for Perdiccas was a suspicious man.
Eumenes returned to his station, his mind a cauldron of emotions.
BABYLON, MESOPOTAMIA
❖
Guards came to my tent one morning and said that The Regent Perdiccas and General Eumenes awaited me in the Royal Palace. I shuffled to the palace, nervous, wondering what this was about. Perdiccas wore a loose-fitting blue embroidered Persian gown, and Eumenes looked every bit a scribe.
I saluted and waited.
“We have a mission for you, Deon,” Perdiccas said. I looked at Eumenes quizzically, but he said nothing.
“Yes, sir.”
“You know that we must transport the King’s body and royal possessions to his burial.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We must safely get it to his mother and ensure he finds home in the royal Argead tombs in Macedon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We need trustworthy men to escort the procession and ensure it reaches the destination safely.”
“Yes, sir.” I was excited at where this conversation was headed. If I were to accompany the King’s funeral procession, not only would I forever hold the honor of being one of the men to take the King to his to resting place, but I would also be home! I would use the opportunity to make more money where I could.
But the Regent did not look happy—he continued dourly. “I had another man in mind—”
My excitement came crashing down, just like the palace of Persepolis when Alexander’s drunken officers set fire to it. But Perdiccas continued, “But that fool got himself killed over a dispute.”
My hopes were back up. The gods surely played with my emotions. Perdiccas then assessed me coolly with his glassy brown eyes, and said, “I have accepted Eumenes’ recommendation that you be the captain of the rearguard.”
Thrill coursed through my veins. I bowed and thanked them for the honor.
“Do not disappoint me, Deon. We will also reward you with a handsome bonus of two talents.”
Two talents! Glory to Demeter and Poseidon! The two talents, worth nearly twenty years of my salary, would bring me very close to securing my family’s freedom. The chance to guard the King’s procession would bring glory and help my reputation. And the procession would take me back home. It was as if every god smiled in unison and granted me a divine future.
Perdiccas then sternly described the details of the sensitive and extraordinary mission, and I was tongue-tied by what they entrusted me with. It was as if the gods had smiled at me—giving me a chance to be part of great glory and also help me free my family. Emotions raged in my mind like the rivers in the Indian monsoon. After I accepted the orders and returned, I was soon summoned to Eumenes’ quarters. When I hurried there, Eumenes appeared to be in deep thought. He looked at me gravely and asked me if I were truly loyal to him.
The question caught me by surprise—he had never asked me that question before. It almost seemed like an unspoken expectation between the two of us—that he would take care of my well-being and aspirations, and that I would always obey his orders and protect him from dangers he did not see.
“Of course, you know I am, sir.”
“So, what do you make of Perdiccas’ request?”
“It is an honor to escort the King’s procession. The reward is exceptional and will help me and my family. I cannot thank you enough, General Eumenes, I am forever indebted to you.”
"Well, Deon, remember Perdiccas chose Burrhus. Unfortunately, that lecherous imbecile got himself killed unable to control what dangled between his legs. He died flopping about like a fish and bled all over the market pavement. Who knows which Babylonian whore's lover he angered?"
Eumenes smiled and his eyes twinkled slyly. That was when it dawned on me that Burrhus was not dead because he slept with some woman, but because if he went, then I would not.
There was more to this mission than what the Regent had told me.
“However, you are an intelligent man, and you must have guessed by now that this is not just about guarding the procession and its contents…”
Silence rang loud.
Eumenes looked around to check there was no one else in the tent. It was a sparse living quarter—he was never the one to deck his space with luxury. He had a comfortable bed, a single faded green cushion couch that could seat two or three people, a large table on which to lay the parchments and other planning material. In one corner, he had a gift given to him by Alexander—a shield once used by the King himself.
He lowered his voice.
“What I am about to ask of you is incredibly sensitive. Do you promise me on all you hold dear—your life and family—that you will obey?”
This was turning out to be the strangest conversation. “You know I will, and you keep me in great suspense, sir.”
“I will reveal it all, but first let us seal this oath of loyalty.”
With that, Eumenes went back to a corner of his tent and rummaged through a large sheepskin bag and retrieved some cloth, a few iron bars, and an idol.
Next, he created a mini-tent made of gorgeous purple fabric with the embroidery of royalty.
Within this tent, in the center, he placed an idol—that of Alexander. It was a beautiful, life-like image of the King, cut from black stone, showing him in his full battle gear. Then Eumenes lit four wax candles, and the entire structure looked remarkably like a holy shrine to god Alexander.
“Kneel before the King, Deon.”
I did.
He made me swear absolute secrecy and loyalty to him and accept misery to all that I love if I betrayed him or the mission ahead.
What was so sensitive that he was going to these great lengths?
“What I am about to tell you has the power change the course of the empire. I hid this from all so far for fear of what it might unleash, but the time has come to act. Do you truly swear to secrecy?”
“Would you like me to cut off my hand and bleed to death to prove my loyalty?” I said.
Eumenes made a mock show of anger by pointing a dagger at me. He settled down and began.
“The truth behind your mission, Deon, has little to do with guarding and protecting the funerary procession,” he said, as he relaxed in his seat.
“I imagined as much, sir. I struggled with the thought that you would send me away on guard duty while you were preparing to take charge of your new territories.”
Eumenes clasped his fingers and leaned forward, looking at me intently.
“While you will head the rear guard of the procession, Deon, you will also steal something for me from the sacred chamber of the funerary temple,” he said, without taking his eyes off me.
I stiffened, and I stammered at what I heard, “Steal… from the King’s sacred chamber?”
“Yes. I know it sounds preposterous, but in there is a secret that will change the course of future.”
I tried to understand the enormity of the ask. If Arrhidaeus caught me thieving from the funerary temple, he would crucify me. Not only that, this act would ensure that my family either died in the mines or on a crucifixion pole. But to defy Eumenes would certainly pose an immediate threat. It was as if Eumenes read my mind; the master strategist continued. “You worry about the implications of your arrest, and what it means to your loved ones.”
I said nothing in response and let the silence hang in the air. Eumenes waited, and then continued,
“No harm will come to you if you were caught and arrested.”
“You say that with certainty, sir.”
“It is not a matter of if, but when, that the Diadochi will turn on themselves like hungry wolves attacking a plump deer that is Alexander’s empire. Under such circumstances, a recognized man like yourself, aligned to me, will not be tried and executed, but bartered for favors and returns.”
“I see that, general. But
the risk is significant.”
“Indeed, it is, but let me ask your opinion on something else,” he said, as he began to pace around his tent.
“What if what you found helps anoint a single clear successor to the empire, with specific instructions to every Diadochi on their role?”
“That would bring peace, rather than mayhem and years of war, of that I am certain,” I said, “are you suggesting there is a will that no one knows about, sir?”
Eumenes smiled. His eyes fluttered briefly—a strange expression passed his face. “You are astute. There is a will, written and sealed with Alexander’s signet ring and certified by a court historian. And it anoints a single successor and his prime advisor.”
I was stunned. Eumenes turned his face away from me as he looked out to the flickering lights of the palace. “The prime advisor is me. That I know. Who the successor is, I do not know.”
“And the will is among the contents that go with the procession,” I said, pre-empting Eumenes.
“How do you know this, sir?”
He looked at me sadly. “Callisthenes was the man who certified the will and sealed it. He told me about it just before he was executed.”
I wondered why Callisthenes would say this to Eumenes, and why he kept this a secret so long. But I knew better than to question him. There were details he was not sharing, and it was his prerogative.
“So, the will Perdiccas announced after the King’s death is—”
“Fake. Made up by greedy charlatans that hunger for the empire, with outlandish and outrageous terms that no one believes.”
Eumenes’ voice was now low and quiet. “I will have the ears of the new King. Consider the implications to the empire, and to yourself,” he said, as he turned towards me. I stayed quiet—breathless. Eumenes continued. “We will bring peace and prosperity, and you and your family will live a life of comfort from the two talents of reward Perdiccas promised. I will continue to employ you if you wish to remain in service. Besides, your wounds have healed, and you seem perfectly fit for the mission.”
I sat stunned hearing the story. Surely this was no trickery?
A lie perpetrated on Eumenes by Callisthenes?
Or by Eumenes on me?
I believed Eumenes. In all our years together, he had never given me a chance to doubt him. But the times were different, and we were of vastly different station and ambition.
But a slow anger began to rise in me.
Ten years in service.
All the blood, tears, fear.
I was no ignorant donkey to be swayed by oaths of loyalty and the greater goodness of the empire, while he benefited vastly. Eumenes would attain fame and great luxury while I would start where I was before my debts.
I knew why he was asking me—there was no one else he could trust! The wily Greek knew that the Macedonians had no love for him, and his options were very limited. Besides, if Perdiccas even got wind of this, he would have Eumenes butchered than to risk his regency.
This was time to be bold, and I took the risk.
“What is my reward, sir?”
Eumenes looked at me sharply; my questions appeared to have taken him by surprise. “The two talents from Perdiccas is twenty years of your salary, Deon, and I negotiated that with the Regent on your behalf,” he said, and the warmth in his eyes was gone.
Anger began to fill my head, like a snake crawling through a closed space—hissing, flicking. “That was to guard the procession and get it to its final place, sir, not to steal from it and risk tied to a cross and whipped to death,” I said, my voice rising.
Eumenes stood immobile. I noticed him clench his fist and his jaws tightened. I briefly feared for my safety. “You surprise me, Deon,” he said, finally, his voice oozing disappointment.
“General. We have both served together and made it through much hardship. Let me share a piece of your glory,” I said, mustering my courage, but in a reconciliatory voice.
He took a few steps back and sat down again. The Regent had appointed me to the procession which would leave soon, and if something happened to me as well, Perdiccas would suspect Eumenes that something was afoot. The Regent was no fool and had a terrible temper that no one would risk; not now.
Eumenes leaned back and casually dismantled the shrine with one hand, disgust clear in his gestures.
“What do you want, soldier?” he said, finally.
I had not had the chance to think through what I wanted, but the stakes were high enough for me to gamble. I took a deep breath and stood straight to hide my nervousness. The snake in my head calmed down.
“I have been nothing but loyal to you, sir, and you ask me to risk my life and family for your glory. What I ask for is a generous discharge from your service—and an ownership of a small satrapy,” I said, knowing that my ambition would surprise him.
Eumenes looked at me for a long time, unflinching.
“I underestimated your ambitions, Deon. I hope this time you will exercise better judgment with the money than to open another brothel,” he said, as a wicked smile spread on his face. It was as if someone slapped me. Intense shame and guilt enveloped me, and heat rose up my face. I tried to respond, but my voice quivered.
“I don’t care, soldier. We have had a fruitful relationship, and yes, you have my word—ten talents, and a minor governorship if you wish not to continue to serve me,” he said.
I caught my breath.
Ten talents! That was a hundred years of my salary. More than enough for a great life—assuming I could live it peacefully.
Then Eumenes stopped, as if he struggled with something. When he finally raised his head for his eyes to meet mine, they were cold in a way I had never seen him before. “This is a contract, Deon. If I find you crossed me, then it is not just you in jeopardy, but so is your family,” he said, the threat unmistakable.
We stood facing each other for a long time, saying nothing. I had saved his life. He had saved my career. We had a trusting relationship that had suddenly turned into a contract, and we both had played a role in this. This time, my relationship with Eumenes would be different. I needed to know that he would not cast me away as a lowly soldier—a sand grain in the dunes of history, one among many who the world would never remember. We had a plan. It would be fraught with risk, but I would see it through, and he would act as my protector, watching over me to the extent he could.
No one else would know. No one else would be told. And if we died, Callisthenes' secret would go with us to the heavens, the empire would erupt in flames, and my wife and daughter would die cursing me for abandoning them.
Thirteen days later the procession made its way out of Babylon on the way to Macedon. A magnificent spectacle befitting the greatest king the world had ever known—and there I was, the captain of the rear guard, with a secret mission to steal an artifact of world-changing consequence.
The procession progressed slowly and steadily first moving north of Babylon after crossing the river, and then westward in a gentle southern slope. At every town, throngs of people came to see the procession. The guards made a protective ring around the grand funerary temple—with its golden panels and figurines of Nike and lions on top of it, and Arrhidaeus often stopped the march to allow people to admire the beauty of the structure or kneel and bid goodbye. In deference to local customs sometimes a priest would take out a replica shield and pass it around the crowd for them to touch it.
The women lamented loudly, the children, excited at this grand procession, laughed and ran alongside, kicking up dust and annoying the guards who swatted them time to time. Rarely did we meet hostility—after the subjugation of Persia, Alexander imbibed Persian customs, allowed local satraps to continue to govern, and punished the errant, greedy governors who terrorized their population. To them, he was a savior.
Perdiccas had defined a tight security procedure, and my hopes of getting into the sacred chamber vanished—a possibility that Eumenes did not predict. It was sometimes easy to undere
stimate The Regent because of his bumbling, fiery temperament.
My other hope, much to my own shame, was that someone would attack the procession and I would find opportunity in the melee.
Our journey went past barren lands into a valley somewhere between Babylon and Damascus. The local warlord, Arnobarbus, was new and emboldened with the preposterous idea that the death of Alexander somehow meant freedom and plunder. He planned to attack the procession—except the imbecile was unaware that one of his own men had betrayed this plan.
We stopped in a narrow valley, with gentle sloping mountains on each side. The only way they could approach us was through a gulley from the East, and we set up camp in such a way to suggest a clueless, resting caravan. All the support—the menders, priests, bag carriers, mechanics—received pieces of soldiers clothing and were made to stand guard or be in sleeping position, to give an impression of a resting camp.
Arrhidaeus stationed armed troops just beyond the swell of the low hills and invisible to the raiding party—one contingent of the cavalry on the left flank, and another near the entrance of the valley.
The soldiers of the infantry lay prone as if asleep just behind the motley group of fake soldiers. Arrhidaeus was with the cavalry, and I, with the infantry. At the early dawn at hint of sunlight, we saw the lookout swing his lamp.
We waited in silence.
Soon, the plumes of dust rose at the entrance of the valley, and Arnobarbus and his men appeared.
What mothers bore these suicidal idiots?
They made a tremendous noise, and behind their cavalry, a thousand bandits advanced rapidly. They wore light armor; some held short swords, some poorly made javelins, some tridents, some barbed clubs—it would be comical if it were not a real raid.
Our decoys scurried with dramatic terror and stood in disorganized lines, hiding the real infantry behind. Emboldened by what they saw, and almost rapturous in their excitement, Arnobarbus and his gang of fools, with their flowing dresses and useless weaponry, rushed forward deeper into the gulley with no hint of discipline or military tactics.
When only a stone's throw separated the bandits and our decoys, the lookouts sounded the horns—loud, clear, and rising above the din of the men and horses.
