The Atlantis Papyrus

by Jay Penner

  But on the other hand, if Perdiccas was stupid enough to march to Egypt, then Seleucus may be able to cement his position as the Lord of Asia. “Do you think that is wise, Perdiccas? To march all the way to Ptolemy and meet him at his strongest?”

  “Strength is but an illusion based on his troops’ loyalty, Seleucus,” Perdiccas snickered. With his trembling lips, he took another sip of wine and then dramatically smashed the cup on the floor.

  “But what makes you think they will turn against their leader?” Seleucus asked.

  “Is it not obvious? Once they know both Alexander’s brother and his son stand behind me, most of their loyal troops will turn. Besides, we have our treasuries to draw from and a large enough force to subdue that scoundrel.”

  “What about the news that Craterus is preparing to cross Hellespont?” asked Seleucus, as he removed his helmet and caressed the green plumes.

  “Yes, I am aware of that, I will find a way to put an end to the adventure of that old fool!”

  Seleucus did not voice his doubt of Perdiccas taking on two fronts against powerful, experienced foes. Perdiccas was a good general, but he was no Alexander.

  “I do not think it wise to take the Royals—"

  “I am not asking for your permission Seleucus.”

  Once Perdiccas made up his mind, Seleucus realized, it was almost impossible to change the man’s decisions. He could also be dangerous when angry.

  “As you command, Regent. When do you propose to begin this expedition?”

  “Immediately. I want you to work with the senior officers to prepare for departure. Let us bring that dog in chains!”

  “I will get on this right away.” Seleucus turned to leave, and he heard Perdiccas’ voice behind him.

  “One more thing, Seleucus. I have a message for Eumenes.”

  SYRIA

  ❖

  I left the family and took leave of my companions after promising them significant reward once the situation settled. The journey for a lone rider can be dangerous, for roadside bandits are always on the lookout for easy prey. I took a path that avoided the usual trade routes, and the few that saw me left me alone.

  Finally, on the third day, I arrived in Damascus. There was much activity in this ancient city, and it was not very difficult to find a garrison still allied to Perdiccas. The captain was an impressive young man, no older than twenty-five. He was muscular and sported thick facial hair—it was clear he no longer respected the Army’s hair rules. Once he found out who I was, he made space for me in his modest living quarters near the northwest of the town, established on the slopes of the hills that rose on this quarter of the city.

  After the pleasantries, we got to business. We met in his tent, and Iotros, one of the Captain’s men, who I was told had intimate knowledge of the geography of the area, joined us. Iotros had the odd habit of blinking his eyes rapidly as he spoke.

  I decided to be as honest as I could be, all the while aware of the intensely valuable nature of what I was carrying. The longer the papers were with me, the greater the danger to me and my mission.

  “Before I speak of my mission, I need to know what you have learned so far about Alexander’s procession.”

  They exchanged looks. “Ptolemy took control of the procession—”

  “What do you mean took control?”

  “He stole King Alexander’s body, sir, and offered rewards to those that joined him. The decision had to be made on spot, and most of the men chose to go with him." The captain paused—he had noticed my expression of disgust. As much as I understood the situation, the reality that these men would so readily abandon their cause frustrated me. “You know how it is commander—the men must make a living and pay for their expenses.”

  Ptolemy—that clever schemer!

  “And then he ordered the gold on the funerary temple melted, and other precious ornamentation sold to pay for the mercenaries.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “We do not know, but the last messengers came a few days ago and said the cart is moving rapidly and they should be well past Tyre, safe into Ptolemy’s territories.”

  “Have you heard of anything from Perdiccas?”

  “We have received news that the Regent is about to move to Egypt.”

  That news alarmed me; the situation was escalating rapidly. Eumenes was always loyal to Perdiccas which meant he would be drawn into this one way or the other, I did not know how, yet. I chewed on the chunks of lamb. The captain leaned back on his bench, and I noticed that his right toe was missing.

  “What happened to your toe?”

  “A fine bandit hacked it off in one of the camp raids.” He grinned affably. War scars.

  “Do you know where Eumenes is?”

  Iotros, who was silent all this while, interrupted, “Why did you leave the procession and come here, sir?” he asked, blinking furiously.

  The annoyed captain asked Iotros to step back and be quiet.

  “I have heard you are an advisor to Royal Secretary Eumenes—is that true?” Soldiers not attached to Alexander’s campaign were always fascinated by stories, and if someone they met was high up the command, close to the famous men, they met with a hero’s reception and could use that to their advantage.

  “Yes, I was. And if you must know, yes, I have been in the same room as Alexander, met regent Perdiccas, and dined with Eumenes many times.”

  His eyes lit up with admiration, and he sat up as if laying in my presence was somehow improper.

  “You must have many interesting stories to tell!”

  “I do, but there is a better time. This is like a soldier asking a fellow man whether his concubine has fine breasts, while he is being stabbed in the crotch by the enemy.”

  He laughed at the bawdy analogy. “I apologize, what else do you want to know, sir?”

  “Where is Eumenes? And how do I reach him?”

  “His last known position was somewhere near Hellespont,” he said, as he sipped wine carefully.

  “What is he doing there? He was stationed further west in Cappadocia.”

  “I do not know, sir.”

  I felt a sense of dread but did not know why.

  That evening I rested in a tent a few hundred steps from the captain’s quarter. As the Sun set and the cold winds began to blow from the flatlands on the east, I wrapped myself in the barely adequate blankets, secured the package around my waist, placed my kopis in my belt, and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be an important day.

  True soldiers never truly sleep, they say, for we are always awake in our minds for the hints of danger. Sometimes late at night, I heard a rustling near my tent, and briefly, I thought this was the sound of leaves in the wind. But I remembered there were no trees anywhere near my location.

  When I opened my eyes, I noticed the silhouette of three men approaching and jumped to my feet—though not soon enough. Iotros and his two companions crouched under the tent and walked in. They blocked the entrance, and in the darkness, it was difficult for me to make out how armed they were.

  Iotros spoke quietly.

  “If you know what is good for you, commander, you will make no noise.”

  I imagined him blinking rapidly.

  “The captain is away on an errand, so do not get your hopes up,” said the second man with a gruff voice.

  The third man stood quietly.

  “Iotros, you should know better than to do this to an officer of Perdiccas.”

  “I doubt Ptolemy would care.”

  I was shocked—the man had penetrated the ranks in this region so effectively. “What do you want from me? You already heard everything anyway.”

  “What did you steal from the procession?”

  There it was.

  “Who told you I stole anything? Was your grandmother on patrol with Ptolemy?”

  I could not make out if he smiled, but Iotros was quite the humorless man. I braced for a punch, but none came.

  “We’ve received reports
of the leader of the rear guard leaving the scene with a couple of his rascals.”

  “You’re quite the genius, aren’t you Iotros? I left because I’m not on the take like you are, drawing a salary from Perdiccas and licking Ptolemy’s boots.”

  He stepped forward, and I took a step back.

  “All we want to know is what you stole, people saw you Deon, and Ptolemaios wants to know.”

  “I doubt that—"

  They lunged at me, and before I could parry the attack Iotros punched me hard in the stomach.

  They had me tied firmly to a chair.

  The situation had turned, and a few days ago I was the man behind the tied prisoner—our gods have a divine sense of justice. There were two low candles burning on the side, their waxy smoke slowly filling the enclosed space of a hut with a low, thatched roof. The gag, which stank, was still in my mouth.

  Iotros stood in front of me, his henchmen were outside, guarding. “I’m not the one for long lectures. Let us see what you have here.”

  He confidently stepped forward, deftly cut the belt, and released the bag. I felt a deep despair; this was not supposed to end this way! Iotros opened the bag, tilted the opening towards the candles, and peered into it.

  And then he threw his head back and laughed.

  “Regent’s choice for the rear guard… a swine, and nothing but a common thief!”

  I shook my head dramatically as if to convey great shame—whether my theatrics would convince Iotros was another question. I then huffed and grunted—pretending to have difficulty breathing.

  Iotros removed the gag and let me breathe easier, he enjoyed the sight of a broken officer turned thief in his control. He pulled out a few of bracelets, beautifully carved with warriors hunting a bull, and some gold rings. “Just one last grab, commander?”

  I muttered, “Even a commander needs to feed his family, Iotros.”

  “You could have stayed back and accepted Ptolemy’s patronage.”

  “My wife is not in Egypt, and I have no interest in learning strange tongues.”

  He smirked, pulled out the package, and my heart sank. Iotros, for whatever reason, seemed circumspect and was gentle in removing the bindings. There was no slashing and cutting this time. He struggled to open the box and began to get frustrated. I realized that if I did not help him, he might bring his thugs who would not hesitate to break it open.

  “Let me show you how to open it.”

  “You can tell me, sir, I can hear.”

  I told him so, and he was delighted to see the lid unlock. He removed the inner package and unwrapped the contents. The last time I packed it in a hurry, I had placed Plato’s letter at the bottom, and the ancient pages in the front.

  He pulled the first papyrus out and placed it in front of the light, and I gasped. “Do not bring it too close to the flame, you will burn it!”

  He pulled it back, and then put his face closer to it, examining the papyrus. I watched him as he read it. His eyebrows bunched, and his eyes darted back and forth. He had the papyrus upside down.

  This idiot could not read!

  “Every senior officer has to fulfill administrative obligations, Iotros. I carry legal paperwork with me at all times.”

  He grunted.

  “Why does this have strange writings on top and what seems to be Greek at the bottom?”

  I spoke gently to him.

  “Iotros, have you been garrisoned anywhere further east?”

  “No,” he said, and his voice trailed.

  I suddenly felt a little sorry for the man. He seemed gentle, recruited when he was young but after Alexander had already passed these areas, and had seen little of the world.

  “Some of the areas further east have different tongues, and we sometimes carry orders in multiple languages.”

  He seemed unsure. It seemed he realized his severely limited world view compared to the man who was in front of him.

  “Please leave those papers with me and let me be on my way. You can keep the jewels. I have spent ten years away from family, served our King without question, and I am tired Iotros. I just want to go home.”

  “You could be tried for thievery, you know?”

  “I know. But I hope you see why I did it. You did it too for Ptolemy, did you not?”

  I said that without an accusatory tone. We both looked at each other for a few moments, without hatred, but with the simple understanding that we all sometimes did what we had to. Iotros removed all the valuables. He placed the box, with its papyri, inside my bag. He seemed not to notice my sigh of relief.

  He then placed a bracelet inside my bag.

  “For your wife.” He said. “This stays between us until you leave camp tomorrow.”

  I nodded. He gestured his companions to come in, and they undid my ties. Iotros gave me my bag, and he whispered to them.

  And as they were about to leave the tent, Iotros paused, and then he turned back. “Why would you go to Eumenes if you want to see your family? You are signing your death sentence anyway.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, puzzled.

  "You have not heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Perdiccas has ordered Eumenes to prepare for war with Craterus.”

  I was aghast.

  Alexander’s secretary would go up against Alexander’s most respected general.

  The next morning, I refreshed, fed my horse, packed some bread, and set on my way.

  I said nothing of the earlier night’s incident and kept a cordial conversation with Iotros. The captain insisted that ten of his crack troops go with me for my safety—and after some thought, I accepted the offer. It was a long way from here to Hellespont and riding lonely on the remote roads was at best foolish, and at worst, suicidal. Animals, starvation, dehydration, ambush, accidents, kidnapping—they were all very likely.

  However, this posed a problem I had to solve and solve quickly. Walking around with this package was nothing but trouble, and I might not be this lucky next time. There was no good reason it had to be with me, as I remembered every single word and symbol.

  I had to hide it.

  So, I concocted a story. I told the captain I had to conduct a ceremony before beginning any major journey. At my request, he gave me two small bronze statues, one of Zeus, and one a local deity, with a lion’s face and a human body.

  I hiked up the mountain on the western edge of the city, with two of his men. It took us a few hours to reach to a higher point, and when I turned southwest, below us lay this old city. Behind me, the land continued to rise, but to my left, the River Chrysorrhoas carved the mountains and created a valley, before it picked up speed and gushed down.

  I followed the river upstream for a few stadia and finally waded down to the source. I cleansed myself in the shallow, clear, and running water. I shivered, but it felt wonderful as the Sun, now reaching the high sky, bathed me in warmth. I then prayed to Poseidon, asking him to help me on my journey to reach Eumenes and take me back to the arms of my wife. And then, hopefully, allow me to live the rest of my life in peace and luxury.

  The gods surely laughed in mirth at my demands.

  Refreshed, I scouted for a place to hide the package. An ancient temple on higher ground, carved into a cliff side, was the perfect location—I climbed up to it, found a nook inside and carefully hid the package. Then I covered it with several rocks and packed it in tightly. While a fleeting thought crossed my mind to destroy it, my heart could not bring itself to do it. These papyri were treasures. For now, my memory would hold all the content in my head, secure and safe.

  It was time to go to Eumenes. I had to resolve my situation before everything escalated.

  MACEDON

  ❅

  The slave caravan made slow progress through the barren landscape. The daily routine was the same: the guards roused the groups early in the morning, everyone got meager rations of rough bread, watery lentil soup, and two gulps of unclear water. After a few hours of tr
udging under the watchful eyes of the guards, sporadic instances of beating and berating, the column was allowed to rest for noon when they received another gulp of water and dried goat meat. And then it was hours of walking, again, until nightfall when they were allowed to sleep under the sky, with the guards and loincloths taking turns under tattered camp tents. The warm weather made it difficult to sleep, and the rocky ground further irritated the wounds on the worn skin and jutting bones.

  The harmful elements and bad omens had caused fever and dysentery among the slaves, only adding to the misery. The slave traders brought physicians to care for the sick—it would do no good for them to lose their merchandise before it reached the mine owners. Apollonia had grown weak but managed to sustain herself—they gave her a bitter brew made of unknown tree bark to keep her bowels in control.

  With each step, she wondered how her daughter was doing.

  On the fourth day, the caravan was woken up due to a commotion around the camps. Apollonia looked out and found a military contingent, in full regalia, surrounding them. The captain, a gruff man with all the weariness of the world etched in his deeply tanned face, stood talking to the loincloths who looked angry and frustrated. She could not hear what they were saying, but the conversation was animated, until the point where the soldiers accompanying the captain drew their swords and advanced menacingly at the loincloths. Encountering military units was not uncommon—they often had to stop for patrols and tax posts—but no unit had so far accosted them.

  After more frantic conversations now witnessed by every alert member of the caravan, the head loincloth, a giant hirsute man, went inside the camp and came out with sheaves of parchment. On his instructions, the guards yelled at the caravan to stand in line, and Apollonia joined the others. The captain walked along the line and began to shout. “Apollonia! Apollonia! Who is Apollonia?”

  Apollonia’s heart thudded with surprise and fear, what now? After a few moments of hesitation, she took a few steps forward, and so had two other women—one quite young, and another, several years older than her.

  The captain looked at the three women and made an exasperated sign.