The Atlantis Papyrus

by Jay Penner

  “Are you all from the house of Krokinos? If you are not, step back.”

  Two of the women stepped back.

  The captain then slowly walked to Apollonia, and the head loincloth loomed menacingly behind.

  “Are you Apollonia from the Krokinos’ household?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, weakly.

  The captain suddenly reached out and pulled Apollonia’s forearm to bring her forward, and she screamed in fear—but he did not inflict further violence. His eyed roamed around her neck. Satisfied, he let go and told her to wait. After further conversations and more shouting, one of the loincloths, a smaller, wiry man, accompanied the captain and mounted behind a rider of one of the horses.

  “You will come with me,” the Captain said. Bewildered, Apollonia took a few steps behind him before saying, “My daughter!”

  The captain did not look surprised—he nodded and said, “I know.” The loincloth was back again, this time cursing in his foreign tongue, but cooperating with whatever was going on. He led Apollonia up a narrow path for a short distance to another area, one with a few sorry looking tents. Apollonia’s chest constricted in anticipation—would she see her daughter again?

  They came in front of a tent, and inside was a huddled mass of children—anywhere from a few years to not yet adulthood. They were dirty, disheveled, and looked on with lifeless eyes.

  Loincloth pushed Apollonia forward and said, “Go ahead.”

  “Alexa! Alexa, my baby!” Apollonia shouted, peering through the darkness. Eventually, she heard a faint voice, “Mother?”

  Apollonia almost toppled and fell over a few other children in her urgency to embrace her daughter. Alexa stood in a corner, her hair matted with grime, twigs, food morsels. Her clothes, once a pretty floral gown, had faded and torn in more than one place. There were bruises on her ankle and knee, and Apollonia felt like her heart would explode. She held onto her daughter until she heard the Captain's voice, “We must go.”

  Under the glare of other loincloths and gruff mutterings of the head, Apollonia and Alexa hesitatingly walked along with the Captain. Once the head loincloth conferred with the Captain for the last time, the Captain directed them to a rider and asked them to mount.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You will find out. Please get on the horse. You daughter will sit with you as well,” the Captain said.

  Seeing the mother and daughter’s weakened condition, the Captain ordered a soldier to help them on, and also had someone give them some bread and water. And as the caravan looked on, their dull eyes gauging their fate, Apollonio and Alexa rode away.

  It only took a few hours, but Apollonia recognized the landmarks and grew increasingly alarmed—why were they going back to where they came from? Soon, her doubts were answered, for they arrived at Krokinos’ villa. They were ordered to dismount, and her daughter clung on to her fearfully.

  A guard walked to the gate, and the rest of the group waited. After a while, she heard Krokinos’ distinct yet raspy voice. “I can assure you I am doing everything to pay my share, but harassing me every week will do no good!”

  The Captain then walked towards the partially open gate and said, “This is about the mother and the daughter.”

  “I already told you where they were. Why are you back here harassing me again? By Zeus, it is something or the other!” His voice was high pitched and agitated.

  The Captain then pulled out a parchment and held it out to the Sun. Apollonia then glimpsed Krokinos’ beak nose bent over to read, and then after what seemed like an eternity, heard him exclaim and curse.

  “It seems the gods want to fuck me for their amusement!”

  HELLESPONT, PHRYGIA

  ❖

  After a long and uneventful journey, I finally arrived at Eumenes’ military camp near Hellespont. The sights jolted me at first—it looked like there was recently a major battle. There was still debris at the crest of a valley near the camp, and a large group of men who looked like prisoners of war stood surrounded by armed soldiers. The captain who escorted me to Eumenes told me a most remarkable story.

  So, Perdiccas had assigned Neoptolemus, another well-known general, to support Eumenes in his battle against Craterus. I remembered Neoptolemus from one of our earlier days—he smelled of overripe fruit; the man could repel an army with just his odor. He was a slight man, wiry, well-dressed, and he was from a noble family. He wore his hair in a bundle—a very odd sight on a general. I had only seen one other man wear his hair so—Bagoas—Alexander’s eunuch and some said his lover. Neoptolemus did not like Eumenes, and he was grudging in his respect.

  But it seems for whatever reason Eumenes suspected Neoptolemus of potential betrayal, and by surprise ordered Neoptolemus to draw his infantry into a formation and be ready for battle. The rest of the troops were horrified when Neoptolemus’ infantry turned and marched against Eumenes’ main army. Such treachery! In a pitched battle Eumenes’ forces had fought this bastard, and then Eumenes had done something no one ever thought he would. Eumenes sent a part of his cavalry around the battleground and captured Neoptolemus’ baggage train—the precious cargo that traveled behind the army, with the soldiers’ life earning, property, loved ones, food, and everything else.

  It was a genius move.

  Once Neoptolemus’ men had realized what had happened, many were greatly demoralized. Their tired bodies and minds realized that not only were they on the wrong side of the battle, fighting against the man they pledged their loyalty to, but now they had lost their life’s earnings, and their loved ones too. The captain said that most dropped their weapons and lay on the ground in surrender. The exceptional Cappadocian horse-riding archers quickly cut down those that still fought.

  And then the captain said that Neoptolemus and some of his officers made away. That disloyal coward was no doubt going to join Craterus.

  By the time the sun moved lower on the skies, the battle was over. Eumenes’ infantry surrounded the renegade troops, confiscated their weapons, and led them to a flat area on the lower ground. And now Eumenes was preparing to address the men who once swore loyalty to him but turned against him at the hour of need. Even with all my misgivings, I could not help but admire how far Eumenes had come—he had defeated a full general in battle!

  The look of shame and dishonor was plain on the captured faces, but I think more were worried about their baggage losses and what would become of their dear ones now under Eumenes’ control.

  I finally caught up with Eumenes.

  He looked at me from the corner of his eye, and his face broke into a great smile—he signaled me to follow him, along with several of his other senior officers. There were other urgent matters to attend.

  We made the captured infantry stand in the sun for much longer, as a punishment to their disloyalty. It was a tactic to let fear rise in them as they waited to hear about their fate. Their families appeared on the higher ground, tied, held hostage, and frightened. I surmised that we might put to death a few members as an example, and exact revenge on the senior officers of the coup. A few officers nailed to the posts even, Perdiccas’ way.

  But Eumenes had other ideas.

  An orderly held a strentorophonic horn, so even the men further away could hear his voice. Once everyone settled, Eumenes began. His firm, but gentle voice carried across. “It is not every day that the men that pledged loyalty to their leader abandon him at an hour of need. You are hardy souls that have spent years in the service of Alexander and his greatest officers, and here you are, your reputation tarnished by a coward who abandoned you in battle and placed you in this shameful condition.”

  He stopped and looked at the assembly before him. Most of Neoptolemus’ men looked ashamed, and many hung their head and refused to look at Eumenes. They fidgeted, scratched their beards, massaged their sore arms, and looked pathetic.

  He continued.

  “But I do not blame you. What can a soldier do if his general asks him to obey an ord
er that conflicts with his conscience? Therefore, I have a proposition to make to you.” He took two steps back, puffed his chest forward and swept his arms dramatically at across the vista and towards the captured baggage train.

  “You can come back to me, take an oath of allegiance to Perdiccas, knowing this time that you shall have no conflict in your minds and that your purpose will remain clear. No harm will come to you, or your family, and I forgive your transgression.

  “Alternatively, you may turn your back and join your master Neoptolemus, and we will not pursue you. You may take your loved ones with you, but your material belongings will still be here. We will face you with honor in the next battle. You must make the decision now, for the time of the next great battle is near. Those who decide to be with me may step forward—but you must prepare to fight with a clear mind and heart, with no treachery.”

  In the next hour, a majority of the deserters returned to us, and there was much rejoice and hugging tears of joy, and relief. A small contingent of men, unable to come to terms with fighting for a Greek master, decided to walk away. They were met with a smattering of jeers, but most of the army watched them in sadness.

  Eumenes had gained a new stature in my eyes, but it did not escape the men’s minds that this was just a skirmish. The true battle, against Alexander’s great general Craterus, was ahead of us. Once things settled down, I finally made my way to Eumenes, filled with mixed feelings.

  “You have finally made your way—ugly bastard!” He laughed.

  We embraced as old friends as the officers and soldiers alike looked on smiling. I hid my anger, for this was not the place or time to start a dispute.

  “You greet me kindly as always, General,” I said, as he clasped my back, drew his arm across my shoulder, and walked me to his tent.

  “I am now a governor, Deon. Only the gods know what I am supposed to be governing, but Perdiccas has conferred upon me this new title that has little meaning.”

  On the opposite side of the valley was where we expected the enemy to appear. Craterus was only about fifteen days away. The most striking change in Eumenes was how he dressed. He had mimicked the exact attire of Alexander—the purple plumed helmet, decorative cuirass, sandals—all reminded the men of the King.

  As we entered the tent, I asked him flippantly, “Any plans coloring your hair, Governor?”

  He raised his eyebrows, grinned at me, and his brilliant eyes sparkled, “Someday, Deon. Do not you know that it is fashion these days for generals to dress like Alexander himself? The way that Seleucus twists his head mimicking Alexander, one would think the dead King is wringing his neck!”

  We rested in his comfortable tent. Behind his seat was a large, ornate temple, with an empty throne in it. I looked at him quizzically. His eyes danced mischievously, “My officers feel better when we make decisions in front of Alexander's empty throne as if he were directing the affairs of my campaign.”

  I nodded. Eumenes had become a formidable force by now, and his uncanny ability to lead his distrustful Macedonian officers was remarkable. There were many veterans in his force; they were a difficult bunch who resented the Greek bookkeeper. But for whatever reasons they stuck by Eumenes.

  “You should rest. I am of course intensely curious, but I can wait until morning. There is much at stake, and I want to seek your counsel for what is ahead of us.”

  “Craterus?”

  “Yes. And the happenings around the empire make your expedition extremely critical.”

  I looked at Eumenes—my anger began to rise to the surface—and it was time to put an end to this fraudulent relation. “If Alexander anointed a successor, Governor, why would you be worried about a battle with Craterus?” I said, looking intently at Eumenes.

  Eumenes froze. His expression turned cold for a fleeting moment before he regained his composure. He sighed deeply. “I should have told you the truth right from the beginning.”

  Eumenes could have admonished me for opening the package—after all, my orders were to bring it undisturbed. But he knew that taking that line would do no good to either of us.

  “Rest today—I will hide nothing from you again. Gods and our King shall attest to that truth.”

  It does not matter; I will collect my rewards and go home. My task is done.

  I decided not to press forward. The next morning, well rested and fed, I joined Eumenes at his tent. He asked his guards not to disturb him. He offered me a bowl of syrup-drenched dates, a delicacy in this part of the world. Intensely sweet, chewy, and sometimes dipped in strong wine, to give the eaters a heady experience.

  “Well, Deon, let us get to the urgent matters at hand. What you have found, and how we should tackle Craterus.”

  I nodded. I knew that my chances of walking before dealing with the Craterus situation were slim. “When do you expect to face general Craterus on the battlefield?”

  “Within the next fifteen days. I think Craterus is still reinforcing his infantry and building supply lines.”

  “Has he not reached out to you, yet?”

  Eumenes turned his head and smiled. He was a little man, but his measured gestures had a sense of gravitas to them. “Craterus has reached out to me with promises—I tried to reconcile him with Perdiccas and failed. I am loyal to Perdiccas for now, Deon, and that will not change soon.”

  “What do you think will happen if we lose?”

  “They will most certainly put me to death. Craterus has been sending missives to my veterans, and he has been telling them that my time is over.”

  “Since when did Craterus decide that his penis was bigger than everyone else’s?”

  “Ever since old man Antigonus decided every teenage girl in Macedon longs for his.”

  We laughed, but this was no joke. For me, a threat to Eumenes was a significant risk to my aspirations.

  Then Eumenes looked pensively out the tent and sighed. “I am shameful for having lied to you, but it was with reason—no matter how misguided.”

  “You thought I would think less of you if you revealed that the quest was about laying hands on treasure and weaponry to fortify your chances.”

  “Or you would think I am an utter fool for pursuing something that sounds ridiculous.”

  “I have never betrayed you, sir.”

  “It was a complex time. But it is my fault that I did not trust my most trusted advisor.”

  After an uncomfortable pause, I spoke again.

  “I see no worthier successor to Alexander than you.”

  His face glowed with pride. “Tell me about what you found. It is exciting, is it not?”

  “Sir, you must first tell me about the origins.”

  Eumenes’ eyes glazed. “Deon, you make my mind drift to that chilly night when a filthy, stinking Callisthenes uttered those words from behind his cage…”

  BACTRIA – MANY YEARS AGO

  ❅

  "No force on earth, whether by land or by sea, can defeat a King who finds it..." said Callisthenes, the whites of his manic eyes visible through the cage.

  That got Eumenes’ attention. He was getting impatient, waiting to hear whatever it was Callisthenes wanted to say, on this chilly early dawn.

  “What I am about to tell you is a secret that I have told no one. And you must take my message to King Alexander without delay!”

  “That is dramatic, but why have you not revealed this before?”

  “I waited for the right moment. You, amongst others, should understand that I was wary of what Alexander was becoming. And before the right time arrived, here I was—” he pointed to the filthy floor of the cage.

  “I have tried to reach the King to no avail. The guards treat me like a disease, Eumenes,” lamented Callisthenes, as he pushed his face forward and peered between the bars. Eumenes recoiled from the odor of rotten teeth. It was as if Callisthenes had a dead rat in his mouth.

  “But now this is my life, and only the King holds power over it. And I wanted to talk only to the man I truste
d most.”

  “I am glad. Now hurry up,” Eumenes admonished. It would not bode well if any of the King’s officers saw him in a conference with Callisthenes.

  “There is much for you to gain, as it is for me, Eumenes. Do you promise to take it to Alexander?”

  “Yes, yes, now go on.” Eumenes tapped the bars with his ringed fingers, impatiently.

  “Remember I told you I studied at Ptolemy’s academy when I was a youth?”

  “This is no time for nostalgia!” Eumenes admonished.

  Callisthenes’ great mop of tangled hair shook like an aged lion’s head. “Please listen. The guards will think I am mumbling incoherently.”

  He had a point. So Eumenes stepped back slightly, wrapped his cape around him, and faced Callisthenes.

  “Did you know I learned to pick locks and climb walls?”

  “That is wonderful,” said Eumenes drily, as he impatiently shuffled his feet in the cold.

  “I used Aristotle’s name get away with defiance to rules, dalliances with women, and trespassing. So, one quiet evening, when most of the academy was away on summer holidays, I decided to find the supposed hidden vault in the sacred area of the academy—Plato’s sealed office!”

  Eumenes’ nervous shuffling stopped.

  “I evaded the guards, picked the lock, and got into the chamber. Most of it was empty except a few bounded books of his most famous works, a bust of the man, and an old, delicately carved—”

  “Get to the point, in Poseidon’s name!” Eumenes hissed. And then he moved closer to the bars and angled his ears to be closer to Callisthenes’ face.

  Callisthenes stopped to catch his breath and wheezed. “Behind his desk was a brick wall which opened to a hidden chamber with two small rooms full of books, papyri bundles, and a few odd items. I have no doubt the administrators knew of this, but it seems they maintained the tradition of a hidden vault.”

  Eumenes’ interest was piqued. Callisthenes continued in a hurried voice. “I loved that musty room! I spent hours staring at Egyptian and other foreign script and reading fascinating papers in old Greek. On my third visit, I discovered something astonishing. In one corner of the smaller chamber was an innocuous iron box, hidden in a nook, behind a shelf. Difficult for the casual interloper to find. It was locked, but not well enough to keep me from opening it…”