Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy)

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘You can dismount,’ said Alexander, noticing his informer’s worried air. ‘Peritas is back at the camp.’

  Hail, O Great King and Lord of Asia,’ began the informer, but Alexander had no time to spare and interrupted him:

  Have you managed to find out any more since you wrote that note?’

  ‘I must tell you the truth – I already knew that Mazaeus was very disillusioned and was sure that the end is nigh for the empire of Cyrus the Great, and I had asked Hephaestion to bring him over to our side if he ever met him on the ford across the Euphrates at Thapsacus. Hephaestion, however, refused to do it, he probably felt that to attempt to lead an opponent into desertion was somehow dishonourable conduct.’

  ‘I feel the same way.’

  ‘Let’s say that he feels the same way as you.’

  ‘If you prefer that.’

  ‘Fine. But the goddess of fortune has come over to our side – she evidently has some sort of weakness for you, my King. You will find it hard to believe, but it was actually Hephaestion who unwittingly became our contact with Mazaeus. The Persian handed him a statuette to give me as a gift and he delivered it while I was near Thapsacus dealing with some business. The barbarian characters inscribed on the base read, ‘break this statuette’, which I promptly did. Inside there was a message from Mazaeus, which I had a courier communicate to you as you were approaching the ford on the Tigris with the army. However, I wanted to come here in person, to make sure that the message had reached you.’

  ‘Quite. I saw your skewered thrush.’

  ‘That was good, don’t you think? My men caught a fair number of them this morning in their nets and so I had this idea of letting you have my password in a most original manner.’

  ‘You certainly succeeded.’

  ‘So, what exactly did the messenger tell you?’

  ‘Mazaeus offers his aid on the battlefield and in exchange he asks to be reconfirmed as Satrap of Babylonia. He says that he will be on the right wing of Darius’s army and so I will be able to lighten my left wing to concentrate all my forces on the other side, where we risk being surrounded. Is that right?’

  ‘That’s it perfectly. Don’t you think it’s an honest proposal?’

  ‘Would you trust a traitor?’

  ‘Yes, if the traitor’s proposal works for both parties, and it seems to me that in this case it does. Mazaeus is sure Darius cannot defeat you; he believes that you will emerge victorious and so he is offering you one thing in exchange for another. Fundamentally, you stand to gain and so does he.’

  ‘Imagine for a moment that he is lying – I leave the left wing uncovered to reinforce the right wing in view of a possible surrounding manoeuvre by the Persian cavalry. Mazaeus instead leads a charge to my left and catches me from behind while I am about to launch an attack with the Vanguard. A disaster. The end in fact.’

  ‘That is true, but if you do not take this risk in accepting Mazaeus’s deal, then you may lose in any case because there are so many more of them than there are of you. What’s more, you have accepted to do battle on terrain chosen by them. It really is a dilemma.’

  ‘Yet I will soon return to my tent and I will sleep peacefully.’

  Eumolpus sought to study Alexander’s expression in the uncertain light of the moon, but he could see nothing that might reveal the King’s true intentions. What must I tell Mazaeus tonight?’ he asked. ‘As you can see, I am disguised as a Syrian merchant and I’ll soon be with him to give him your answer.’

  Alexander grabbed the reins of his horse and leaped astride it, ‘Tell him I accept,’ he said, as he made ready to set off.

  ‘Wait!’ Eumolpus stopped him. ‘There is one last thing you might want to know – Barsine’s son is in Darius’s camp and he intends to take part in the battle tomorrow.’

  Alexander sat motionless for a moment astride his steed, as though this news had somehow paralysed him, then he suddenly woke up and spurred the horse on, soon disappearing in a cloud of dust. Eumolpus shook his head and thought to himself for a moment about their conversation, then he had his reluctant camel kneel down and climbed up and sat astride it. He said something and the animal first of all lifted its rear end, almost making him fall forwards, then its front legs, almost making him fall backwards. Finally the animal gained some sort of balance and started trotting off towards the Persian camp, driven onwards by its rider’s clumsy kicking.

  Alexander saw a patrol of hetairoi from the royal guard, led by Hephaestion, coming towards him at a gallop. They stopped and the King asked, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Where are we going?’ said Hephaestion in a rage. How can you ask us that? We’re out here looking for you! You set off without saying anything to anyone, off into the night across land crawling with enemy patrols and this on the eve of a battle that will decide our destiny. Fortunately one of the sentries saw you and made a report to his commander. We are half dead with fear and—’

  Alexander stopped him with a simple gesture, ‘It was something I had to deal with alone, but the fact that you are here is a good thing. Who is the commander of this division?’

  A young man from the mountainous lands of Lyncestis moved forward, ‘I am, Sire, and my name is Euphranor.’

  ‘Listen to me, Euphranor: while we go back to the camp, you will go with your men to the village which lies ten stadia or so along this track and you will leave half of your men as a garrison there, led by someone you trust. You will take the other half to the banks of the Tigris and you will wait there until you hear someone call from the other side, “Where is the road to Babylon?” You will reply, “The road lies this way!” and then you will escort these people to the camp and consign them to Craterus.’

  ‘Nothing else, Sire?’

  ‘Nothing else, Euphranor. Carry out well the orders I have given you, for our army’s safety depends on it.’

  You can count on us, Sire – we will keep a lookout and no one will pass between the ford and the village without asking permission from us. That is the way it must be, is it not?’

  ‘That is exactly how it must be. Go now.’

  Who are we expecting?’ asked Hephaestion as he turned his horse in the direction of the camp.

  You will see. And now we will turn back – we don’t have long to rest before dawn breaks.’

  They returned to the camp and went their separate ways – Hephaestion to his division of the Vanguard and Alexander to Barsine’s tent. She came to him and kissed him, ‘I heard tale that you had gone off on your own – I was worried.’

  Alexander held her to himself without saying anything.

  ‘You will lead your cavalry tomorrow, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘Why do you expose yourself to such danger? If anything were to happen, your men would be leaderless.’

  ‘A king has certain privileges, but he must also be ready to die first, every time his people face a danger. Listen to me Barsine: just eight or nine stadia in that direction lies the Persian camp, and your father Artabazos and . . . your son are both there.’ Barsine’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘If you wish to join them,’ he continued, ‘I will have you and Phraates escorted to the first Persian guard post’

  ‘Is this what you want?’ Barsine asked.

  ‘No. I want you, but I understand that your heart is rent by the conflict and for this reason you will never be happy.’

  Barsine stroked his face and his hair and then she said, ‘I am your woman, I will stay.’

  ‘If you are my woman, then make me forget everything on this the eve of the battle, love me as you have never loved any man, give me all the pleasure you are capable of giving. All that may remain of me tomorrow is a handful of dust.’ And without waiting for her answer he began kissing her neck and her breasts, caressing her body and her thighs, pulling her to himself with irresistible force. Barsine felt the heat that came from his skin grow and grow until it became fever, she smelled the perfume of his hair and the
intense musky fragrance that came from his groin and she let herself go on the rush of desire that ran just below her skin with the flow of her blood and her breath.

  She undressed as he continued to caress and kiss her all over her body and then she undressed him, free of any inhibition now. She kissed his lips and his chest avidly and pulled him naked to the carpet. She caressed his belly and his thighs, she kissed him ever more passionately until the most burning of desires was unleashed in both of them. He took her with all his strength, as though this was the last time he would ever make love with her and he saw her eyes light up, her face transfigured by a pleasure that was ever more intense and moving, he felt her hands and her nails dig into his shoulders and his back and he heard her finally cry out in boundless pleasure, the pleasure that only the gods can give to mortal beings.

  He let himself collapse on to the soft carpet as she continued to kiss him and caress him in total, passionate devotion, oblivious to everything else. Alexander responded to her kisses and then, with one last caress, he pulled away from her and stood up.

  ‘Sleep here with me, I beg you,’ Barsine said to him.

  ‘I cannot. My men must find me tomorrow in the solitude that precedes the ultimate challenge. The sentries on the last watch must know that overnight they have stood guard over their King alone. Farewell, Barsine. If I should die in battle, do not cry for me: it is a privilege to die on the field, thus avoiding old age and the decline of the mind and the body, the slow, inexorable extinguishing of the light in one’s eyes. Return to your people and your children, and live your life happily, knowing that you have been loved as no other woman in the world has ever been loved.’

  Barsine kissed him one last time before he disappeared through the door, and she did not have the courage to tell him that she was expecting his child.

  13

  IT WAS GENERAL PARMENION who woke him up, entering the King’s tent in person: ‘Sire, it is time.’ He was fully decked out in his battle armour and Alexander looked at him with the same admiration as ever. He was an elderly man now, but the old warrior was still as upright and solid as an oak. The King stood up and, naked as he was, gulped down the ‘Nestor’s cup’ that Leptine had already prepared. While two attendants dressed him and helped put his armour on, another brought his shield and his shining helmet in the shape of a lion’s head with gaping mouth.

  ‘General,’ began Alexander, ‘this will be a day of great uncertainty, especially for our left wing. For this reason I have decided to give you command of that side of our lines. The Black will take the right side.

  ‘We will move forward with our wings folded so that they are almost touching our flanks, like a hawk diving on to its prey. We will proceed until they decide to stop us and send their right wing on ahead. Then I will lead the charge and I will break their attacking front in two, but while I drive home the point into the enemy’s centre, you will turn round with the flank out on the left. I know that you and your men will hold, that you will not give way for any reason.’

  ‘I will not give way, Sire.’

  Alexander shook his head, ‘You are always so formal, and yet you held me on your knee when I was a child.’

  Parmenion nodded, ‘I will not give way, my boy, for as long as there is life left in me. May the gods be with us.’

  As the King left he saw that at the centre of the camp Aristander was burning a sacrifice. The smoke rose slowly from the ground, twisting like a snake, struggling to find its way into the sky.

  ‘What do your portents say, Seer?’

  Aristander turned towards him with that characteristic movement which reminded him so much of Philip, his father, and said, ‘It will be the hardest day of your life, Alexander, but you will win.’

  ‘I hope to the gods that this is the truth,’ replied the King as he took Bucephalas’s reins from his groom. The camp was bustling with activity: everywhere orders were being shouted, squadrons of cavalry were taking up position, the infantry divisions were lining up in their marching formation. Alexander leaped on to Bucephalas and spurred him on to the very tip of the Vanguard, which was already lined up to perfection. Hephaestion took up position alongside. Just behind was Leonnatus – completely dressed in metal, his great cleaver held firmly in his hand – and at his side was Ptolemy. Behind them were Lysimachus, Seleucus and Philotas, coming before the rest of the squadron and the other divisions of the hetairoi cavalry. Ahead of everyone and out on the left flank the Thracians and Agrianians ran on foot, then came the battalions of the phalanx and a division of shock troops led by their commanders: Koinos, at the head of the very first, then Perdiccas, Meleager, Simmias and Polyperchon. Craterus, last of all, was in command of the Thessalians. Out on the right the eight battalions of the Greek allies were already in marching formation, followed by a long tail of Thracian and Triballian foot soldiers, extending back as far as the royal tents and supplies.

  The King raised his hand and the trumpets gave the signal for them to set off. The Vanguard started at a walk behind Alexander as he led them towards the far end of the field. Then came the sound of war horns and the Great King’s army appeared – limitless, and with hundreds of standards and insignia going before it. At that moment the sun was rising so that from the midst of the cloud of dust they raised on their march there came the glinting of the metal of their weapons – like flashes of lightning coming from the depths of a dark storm cloud.

  Leonnatus saw the immense line up, stretching from one side of the plain to the other, and he murmured to himself, ‘Great Zeus!’ But the King gave no sign of astonishment at this great spectacle and continued to advance at a walk, holding Bucephalas’s reins to his chest while the horse arched his powerful, shining neck, snorting and champing at the bit.

  Behind him the entire army started unfolding, squadron by squadron, battalion after battalion, to the rhythmic sound of the drums and the loud regular marching of the soldiers, the excited stamping of the horses. To their left the vast levelled area opened up – all that separated them now from the Persian front line that continued its inexorable forward march.

  Alexander began to turn towards the right, to reach a more irregular and rolling tract of land, but the enemy immediately realized what he was trying to do. The sombre, prolonged sound of the horns came once more and the entire Persian left wing, composed entirely of Scythian and Bactrian cavalry, set off on a counter manoeuvre. Alexander gave a signal and the Agrianian archers on horseback galloped towards the enemy as they approached and unleashed dense swarms of arrows; then he sent a squadron of hetairoi to slow down the enemy’s thrust while he himself continued at the head of the Vanguard, at a walk, incredibly calm. Only those who were alongside him were able to perceive an occasional irregular blinking and the sweat on his temples.

  The hetairoi spurred their mounts on, quickly devouring the space between themselves and the fast-approaching wave of the Asian horsemen. The impact was truly horrendous – hundreds of horses rolled to the ground, hundreds of horsemen on both sides fell with them and immediately, despite their injuries, they set to in mortal hand-to-hand combat in the midst of the hooves, in that inferno of dust, neighing and shouting that surrounded them on all sides. A thick cloud was raised, covering almost the entire field, so that it was no longer possible to make out what was happening and what might be the results of that first clash. Some of the Agrianians, having used up their arrows, had drawn their knives and thrown themselves into the ruck, driven on by their barbarian fury, engaging in wild combat with the enemy horsemen who appeared like ghosts in the dense clouds.

  Insistent trumpet blows echoed then from the left and Leonnatus touched Alexander on his shoulder, ‘Gods above . . . look! The chariots! The scythed chariots!’ But the King did not respond at all.

  From the centre of the Persian line up the frightful machines moved forwards, setting off towards the Macedonian left flank. Perdiccas, who had spotted them immediately, began shouting, ‘Get ready, men! Carefully now! Get ready!’<
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  However, at that very moment a group of enemy horsemen set off transversally across the field at full gallop, dragging behind them bundles of twigs which raised an impenetrable curtain of dust right before the Macedonian flank, hiding the chariots from view. All the Macedonians could see was occasional sinister glinting from the scythes as they revolved furiously on the hubs of the wheels or sliced through the air where they protruded from the car, the yokes and sides of the four-horse vehicles.

  Perdiccas and the other commanders had the alarm trumpets sounded so that the marching foot soldiers might prepare themselves to open up as soon as the chariots appeared from the dust, but when they did appear they were less than half a stadium away and not all the soldiers managed to react in time to the signals which were raised on high pennants by their section leaders. At some points along the line the corridors were created and the chariots passed through without causing damage, but at other points they charged at full tilt into the midst of the ranks, mowing down the soldiers like wheat, sending heads rolling, necks cut clean through, eyes still wide open in astonishment. Many soldiers’ legs were caught by the scythes, and mutilated horrendously, others were caught head on by the horses, trampled and torn to pieces by the hooves and the spikes protruding from underneath the chariots, but the army continued to advance behind Alexander, maintaining its oblique line. Now they had covered more than a third of the vast area that Darius had cleared to allow an unhindered run for the chariots and the horses, and they continued to march in time to the constant beat of the drums.

  Some of the second division of Agrianian archers set off like lightning towards the chariots, massacring their drivers, while others, on horseback, followed those who had passed through the lines to attack them from behind with their spears. In the meantime, however, at the most advanced point, the heavy Scythian and Bactrian cavalry – led by Bessus and at an advantage because of their numerical superiority – pushed back the hetairoi squadrons and began to spread out in a wide surrounding manoeuvre towards the far right, where the Greek allies were moving forward. As soon as the Greeks saw the barbarian horsemen advancing at full gallop towards them, they shouted: ‘Alalalài!’ and proceeded to close ranks, tightening up the spaces between one another and arranging a barrier of shields and spears. In the confusion of shouting and neighing, Alexander pushed Bucephalas forward slightly more quickly now, almost trotting over the plain. To his side a standard-bearer held the Argead flag, flame red with its golden star shining in the sun that was now high in the sky.