Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy)

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  Nearchus took control of the largest vessel, which functioned as their flagship and carried both the King and the Queen. He gave the signal for them to depart, the oars dipped into the water and the ship glided out into the flow, quickly followed by the others. When the entire fleet was out there on the river, the spectacle became even more impressive with the foaming waters under the prows and the blades of the oars, the thousands of standards and other flags fluttering in the wind, the glinting of the shields and the weapons.

  Among the philosophers who had been allowed on to the King’s ship was Pyrrho of Elis who was now most highly thought of, and also on board were Aristander and the Indian sage who had appeared so mysteriously in the camp at Sangala. He sat at the prow with his legs crossed, his arms resting on his knees as he looked straight ahead, like a figurehead.

  ‘What have you discovered about him?’ the King asked Aristander.

  ‘His name is Kalan, Kalanos in Greek, he is a great sage among his own people and is gifted with extraordinary qualities that come from his lifelong practice of meditation.’

  ‘These people,’ added Pyrrho, ‘believe that the souls of those who do not live a just life pass, following death, from one body to another until they have been completely purified by their pain and suffering like metal in a forge. Only then can they meld into a sort of eternal peace they call nirvana.’

  ‘This reminds me of Pythagoras’s thinking and a poem by Pindar.’

  ‘That’s right, and it is indeed most probable that these ideas reached Pythagoras from India.’

  How did you discover all this?’

  ‘From Kalanos. He learned to speak Greek in less than a month.’

  ‘In less than a month? How is that possible?’

  ‘It is possible, because it has happened, but I don’t know how to explain it. Even before he was able to speak, however,’ Aristander continued, ‘he managed to communicate with me. I would feel his thoughts entering my mind.’

  Alexander’s gaze turned to the wave that just then was breaking gently on the side of the ship, and then he lifted his eyes and looked out across the great expanse of the river, over the teeming vessels in the flow. Pyrrho had moved away now to sit towards the stern on a coil of ropes where he was writing something on a slate he held on his knee. The King moved closer to Aristander and asked him, ‘Did you speak to him about your nightmare?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘No. Not since he came to the camp.’

  ‘And do you know why he came?’

  ‘To meet you, and to help you. He had known for some time that a great man would come from the West, and he had decided to meet up with him.’

  Alexander nodded, then he let go of the gunwale and moved towards Kalanos.

  ‘What are you looking at, Kalane?’ he asked.

  ‘Your eyes,’ replied the sage with a strange voice, resonant like the sound of a brass instrument. ‘They are the image of the dark line that runs through your soul, a thin borderline between light and darkness, like the blade of a razor, and you are running along it. It is a difficult enterprise, often painful . . .’

  The King replied in astonishment, ‘How can you look into my eyes if you continue to stare into the waves and how can you speak my tongue so perfectly without anyone ever having taught it to you?’

  ‘I saw your eyes even before meeting you. And then there is only one tongue, Sire. If a man can succeed in reaching the origins of his own soul and his own nature, he can understand, and be understood, by all humanity.’

  ‘Why have you come to me?’

  ‘To continue my quest.’

  ‘And where does your quest lead you?’

  ‘To peace.’

  ‘But my path takes me to war. I have been readied for this, ever since I was a boy.’

  ‘You were also made ready to receive knowledge. I see the shadow of a great wisdom in the depths of your eyes. Peace in the world is a supreme good and no supreme good can be achieved without passing through fire and sword. But this has already taken place. I want to help the wisdom of the great sovereign grow in you, the wisdom of he who one day will be father of all peoples. This is why I have come to you.’

  ‘You are most welcome, Kalane, but my way was marked out for me when I first crossed the sea. I know not if I will succeed in altering its course.’

  ‘Before long, this river will carry us into the flow of the great father Indus,’ replied Kalanos, sending his gaze out over the fast-flowing water. ‘If you travel up to its source, you will come to a small stream whose waters run clear, but then, down towards the bottom, you will see hundreds of other torrents mix their waters with it, changing its colour and its course, you will see the trees lower their canopies to touch its surface, you will see fishes of all kinds, snakes and crocodiles will appear suddenly, swimming in its flow, birds building their nests along its banks, the river you see now is all this and it will be something else again as it flows towards the Ocean. There it flows into the eternal waters, into the universal womb that surrounds all lands. At that point the great Indus exists no more, but is part of the only vital fluid from which the clouds and the birds, the rivers and the lakes, the trees and the flowers are all reborn . . .’

  He said nothing else and recomposed himself into his impenetrable silence.

  Nearchus approached the King just then with a worried look on his face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Alexander asked.

  ‘Rapids,’ he replied.

  55

  NEARCHUS POINTED AHEAD to where the river boiled threateningly, perhaps ten stadia away. ‘We must stop immediately,’ he said, ‘and take a look from the bank before we attempt it with the fleet.’

  He immediately had the alarm flag raised and ordered the helmsmen to turn towards the bank. The chief oarsman shouted, ‘Starboard oars, out!’ and the rowers on the right-hand side of the ship lifted their oars from the water while the port side continued rowing, pushing the ship into a wide turn towards the right-hand bank of the river. On seeing the signals and the manoeuvres carried out by the flagship, all the other vessels did likewise, approaching dry land and dropping their anchors. While the crews were busy mooring, however, there came a series of loud cries and from the hills towering above the river to the east there appeared thousands of warriors who immediately launched themselves into an attack.

  Alexander had the trumpets sound and the shieldsmen and the assault troops leaped into the water and ran forward to engage the enemy who were now extremely close.

  Who are they?’ asked the King.

  ‘Mallians,’ replied Nearchus. We are close to the confluence with the Indus. They are fierce soldiers, unbeatable.’

  ‘My weapons!’ ordered Alexander, and his attendants came running with his breastplate, his greaves and his crested helmet.

  ‘Don’t go, Alexandre!’ Roxane pleaded as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  ‘I am the King! I must be the first!’ and he gave her a hurried kiss and shouted, ‘With me, men!’ A moment later he grabbed his shield, jumped into the water and scrambled towards the shore.

  In the meantime warriors were disembarking from the other ships by the thousand, and the trumpets blared and orders were shouted in all the languages of the great army.

  As soon as Alexander reached land, the battalions of the heavy infantry came running, while higher up the river the horses were being disembarked to form the first cavalry squadrons.

  The enemy, after the success of their initial impact, began retreating under the pressure of the Macedonian divisions that were gaining strength and attacking in compact formation. The Mallians, given the impossibility of forcing the Macedonians back, began an orderly retreat, still putting up a strong fight until, having backed up the hill, they found themselves in a more advantageous position and counterattacked with renewed vigour. The front line wavered as the Mallians and the Macedonians had the best of it alternately, but by late morning enough horse
s had been disembarked to form two entire squadrons of cavalry that proceeded to attack the enemy’s flanks. Alexander himself then mounted his horse and led the charge. At that very moment a long line of enemy horsemen appeared on the hills opposite and charged down to engage the King’s squadrons.

  The battle increased in intensity until about midday, when finally the Macedonians got the upper hand and pushed the Mallians back beyond the line of the hills. From there Alexander’s gaze swept over five cities, one of which stood out because of its massive fortifications in rough brickwork.

  He divided his army into five columns, and sent each one of them out towards one of the cities. He led the fifth and most numerous column himself, calling Perdiccas, Ptolemy and Leonnatus to attack the capital, but when he was about to order the assault, Leonnatus shouted to him: ‘Alexander, look! Peritas has escaped from the ship.’ Indeed, the Molossian was running as fast as his legs would carry him up the hill to join his master.

  ‘By Zeus!’ the King swore. ‘If anything happens to him I shall have whoever it was who let him go whipped for this. Back! Peritas, back! Back to Roxane!’

  The dog seemed to want to obey for a moment, but as soon as Alexander galloped off, leading his men, he started following once more.

  Halfway through the afternoon, the column led by the King was already under the walls and the Mallians, the Macedonians at their heels, sought refuge within as they rushed through the three gates that had been left open for them.

  Alexander was completely caught up in the excitement of the chase, and when he saw a section of the walls that had in part collapsed because of the rain or lack of maintenance, he leaped from his mount and started running up the ramp to take the city. He reached the top without realizing he was alone. Leonnatus saw just how vulnerable he was, however, and he rushed after him shouting, ‘Alexander! Stop! Wait!’ But in the reel of battle and the chaos of the shouting, the King heard nothing as he went over the top and down the other side.

  Leonnatus took his men up the ramp after Alexander to help him, but some enemy soldiers, having seen what had happened, rushed to form a barrier and block them, so that their companions could then kill the King within the walls.

  In the meantime Alexander had realized the danger he was in and the fact that he was surrounded; he retreated until his back was against an enormous fig tree, where he was fighting desperately against a group of opponents. Leonnatus fought his own way through, swinging his axe, sending the enemy rolling down the ramp and shouting, ‘Alexander, hold on! Hold on, we’re coming!’ But in his heart of hearts he knew that the King risked being completely overwhelmed at any moment. Right then he heard a howling come from behind him and he remembered the dog. He shouted as loudly as he could, without even turning round, ‘Peritas! Run, Peritas! Run to Alexander!’

  The Molossian ran up the ramp like a fury and reached the top at the very moment when his master collapsed, struck by a javelin; Alexander held his shield fast with the very last drop of strength he had. It took no more than a moment: Peritas leaped from the top of the walls, landing like a lightning bolt in the midst of the enemy, sending them rolling backwards; he crushed one soldier’s hand with a single bite, tore another’s throat out, and ripped open the belly of a third, whose guts spilled to the ground. The magnificent animal fought like a lion, growling, baring his bloodied fangs, his eyes burning like those of a wild beast.

  Alexander seized the moment to crawl backwards while Leonnatus, who had finally reached the top with his men, ran down shouting like a madman and swinging his cleaver in circles, opening up a path to the King. At that point he turned and faced the enemy who continued to attack: he split the first enemy soldier who came forward into two, from his head down to his groin, and the others, terrified by such frightful strength, retreated. In just a few instants hundreds of Macedonian assault troops and shieldsmen spread throughout the city, filling it as they went with fierce cries, with desperate screams, with the clangour of arms clashing in the fury of battle.

  Leonnatus knelt down alongside the King and unlaced his breastplate, but at that moment Alexander turned his gaze and his eyes filled with tears and despair. ‘Peritas! No! What have they done to you!’

  The Molossian was covered with blood and sweat and was staggering towards him, whining, a javelin planted firmly between his ribs.

  ‘Call Philip!’ shouted Leonnatus. ‘The King is wounded! The King is wounded!’

  Peritas managed to reach his master’s hand, to lick it for one last time before collapsing lifeless before him.

  ‘Peritas! No!’ Alexander moaned between his sobs, pulling the dog to himself and embracing this friend who had made the ultimate sacrifice in order to save his life.

  Perdiccas arrived, covered in blood and close to total exhaustion. ‘Philip is not here; in the confusion of the attack no one thought to give him a horse.’

  ‘What can we do now?’ panted Leonnatus, his voice cracking.

  ‘We can’t move him in this state. We’ll have to extract the weapon. Hold him, because this is going to hurt like hell.’

  Leonnatus gripped Alexander’s arms and held them behind his back while Perdiccas tore his chiton, exposing the wound; then, with one hand on the King’s chest, he used the other to try to pull the bolt out, but the metal head was jammed between his collar bone and his shoulder bone and it simply would not budge.

  ‘I’ll have to use the blade of my sword as a lever,’ he said. ‘Shout, Alexander, shout as loudly as you can, for I have nothing to soothe the pain you will feel!’

  He unsheathed his sword and put it into the wound. Alexander shouted, his body racked by the lancing pains. Perdiccas sought his shoulder blade with the point of the sword and pushed it backwards forcibly while with the other hand he pulled on the shaft of the bolt, which came free all of a sudden with a great spurt of blood. With one last shout, the King collapsed in a faint.

  ‘Find some glowing embers, Leonnatus, quickly! We have to cauterise it or he’ll bleed to death.’

  Leonnatus ran off and returned quickly with a piece of a wooden beam from a burning house and plunged it into the wound. There was a nauseous smell of charring flesh, but the blood stopped flowing. Perdiccas’s men in the meantime had built a stretcher and now they moved the King on to it and carried him out of the gates of the city.

  ‘Take him back as well,’ said Leonnatus, his eyes red with tears and fatigue, pointing to the lifeless body of Peritas. ‘He is the true hero of this battle.’

  56

  IN THE DEEP OF the night Alexander was taken, unconscious and burning up with fever, to the banks of the river where Nearchus had set up camp. Roxane ran to him shouting in despair, then she knelt alongside him and kissed his hand as she sobbed. Leptine looked on as she prepared clean bandages and water, her face pale and expressing all her terror and worry as they waited for Philip to arrive.

  The physician appeared almost immediately and set to work straight away, leaning over the wounded man. He cut the rough dressing Perdiccas and Leonnatus had applied to the wound and began cleaning it with the water Leptine offered from a metal urn.

  He put his ear to Alexander’s chest and proceeded to examine him carefully while the King’s friends, who one by one had entered in silence, waited anxiously for the verdict.

  ‘Unfortunately this is not just any wound,’ said Philip as he got to his feet. ‘The point of the javelin has punctured his lung. I can hear the blood gurgling with every breath he takes.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Hephaestion.

  Philip, unable to speak, simply shook his head.

  At that moment Alexander’s breath rattled and saliva mixed with blood ran from his mouth, spreading a large red stain on his pillow.

  Ptolemy moved towards his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It means that Alexander might die, Hephaestion,’ he said, with a lump in his throat. ‘Come on, let’s leave him to rest for the moment.’

  Seleucus, who had led the attack on
the other cities, entered at that moment together with Craterus and Lysimachus and he immediately realized what had happened. He moved towards Philip and asked him in a whisper, ‘Is there any hope?’

  The physician lifted his eyes and in his gaze Seleucus saw such grief, such a sense of distress and impotence, that he said nothing else and left.

  The tent was suddenly empty and quiet. All that could be heard was Roxane’s soft lament as she cried disconsolately, covering her husband’s motionless hand with kisses and tears.

  Leptine, who in truth had always detested anyone who had ever become intimate with Alexander, approached slowly and put her hand on Roxane’s shoulder. ‘Do not cry, my Queen,’ she whispered. ‘I beg of you, do not cry. He can hear you. You must be strong. You must think . . . you must think that everyone loves him . . . we all love him and love is stronger than death.’

  Philip took off his bloodstained apron, saying to the two women as he did so, ‘Remember. Don’t leave him unattended, not even for the briefest of moments. I am going now to get everything ready for a drain for the wound. If anything happens, send someone for me immediately.’

  Leptine nodded and the physician took a lamp and left the tent. As he crossed the camp he saw Ptolemy and Leonnatus placing Peritas’s body on a pile of wood; the dog’s lead, decorated with silver studs, was laid alongside, like the ritual offering made on the pyre of a hero. He walked over to them.

  ‘What a terrible day,’ Ptolemy murmured. ‘Just when it seemed that the pain and the fatigue were behind us . . .’ He stroked the lifeless dog as it lay on a blanket of red wool. ‘I’ll miss him,’ he said with tears in his eyes. He would always keep me company when I was on guard.’ At that moment Craterus arrived with a patrol of pezhetairoi who lined up on the two sides of the pyre.

  ‘We felt he deserved full honours,’ Leonnatus explained. He was the King’s first guard.’