Alexander the Great

by Philip Freeman

  When Alexander’s ship neared Heliopolis, the river split into different channels that spread throughout the delta. But instead of taking the eastern branch back to Pelusium, the little fleet headed down the westernmost branch, known as the Canopic, toward the Greek trading post at Naucratis. The town was fifty miles inland from the sea, but for three centuries it had been the main point of contact between the Greek world and the land of the pharaohs. To Alexander, it was a small settlement too far from the Mediterranean for his dreams of a booming international metropolis. With Tyre destroyed, he needed a new port to serve as the center of trade not only for the Egyptian market but for the whole eastern Mediterranean. A harbor on the sea near the mouth of the Nile would be a natural emporium for crucial Egyptian grain exports, but also for the Arabian spice trade and goods flowing up the east African coast. With merchant traffic through the Gulf of Suez and down the Red Sea around Arabia, it could also serve as an end point for trade from Persia and India.

  The sleepy little port of Naucratis would simply not do for such a vision. Alexander knew he needed an entirely new town at a site chosen for easy access to both the sea and the Nile, as well as a deepwater port easily defended against invaders and pirates, with a healthy climate, cool breezes, and plentiful fresh water. When he reached the mouth of the Canopic branch of the river and saw a broad limestone ridge to the west between the Mediterranean and Lake Mareotis, he knew he had found the site for his new city. It had a harbor on an isthmus approachable only from the east or west along a narrow shore. It was close enough to the mouth of the Nile to allow for easy access to the river and a steady supply of fresh water, but far enough away so that silting would not be a problem. Less than a mile offshore was the island of Pharos, a natural breakwater long known to the Greeks. That very night Alexander reportedly had a dream in which an old man appeared to him and quoted familiar lines from Homer:

  There is an island in the stormy sea

  in front of Egypt—They call it Pharos.

  Whether he truly had such a vision or not, the king was convinced the harbor across from Pharos would be perfect for his new Alexandria.

  The historian Arrian says that once again a pothos or desire seized Alexander, so that he decided to lay out the pattern of the city himself. The details vary according to different sources, but most agree that he was in such a hurry to begin the work that he had no time to send for chalk to mark the boundaries of the town. Instead, a soldier with him suggested using some of the barley they had brought along. Alexander thought this was a marvelous idea and eagerly began to walk the site, grain sack in hand, outlining where he wanted the fortifications, broad streets, central market, and temples. He was especially keen that there be shrines to Egyptian gods to show his respect for local beliefs. The temple of the popular native goddess Isis would be prominent, a divinity known to the Greeks as a bringer of life to the land and humanity alike.

  But suddenly Alexander and his companions watched as thousands of birds from the nearby lake descended on the site and quickly ate every grain of barley he had so carefully laid out. The king was greatly worried by the implications of such an omen. Were the gods against the founding of his city? Ever quick to turn a sign from the heavens into good news, the king’s favorite soothsayer Aristander proclaimed that the feasting birds were in fact wonderful portents, as they showed Alexander’s new city would be splendidly prosperous and nourish all the nations of the earth.

  While the king was still at Alexandria, welcome news arrived from Greece. The bearer was a Macedonian named Hegelochus, co-commander of the king’s fleet in the Aegean. The admiral reported that the citizens of the strategic island of Tenedos near Troy had revolted against the Persians and forced them out. Even better, the crucial island of Chios had brought in the Macedonians to expel the Persians. There he had captured the commander of the Persian fleet, the late Memnon’s nephew Pharnabazus. The operation had gone so smoothly that one of the Greek allies of the Persians, Aristonicus of Methymna on the island of Lesbos, was captured after he sailed into the harbor at Chios thinking it was still in Persian hands. The entire island of Lesbos, the key to the northern Aegean, had then been taken by Alexander’s forces. In addition, the southern island of Cos near Halicarnassus had helped the Macedonians drive out the Persians. The entire Aegean and eastern Mediterranean now belonged to Alexander.

  Hegelochus brought with him in chains Aristonicus and all the aristocratic leaders of Chios and Lesbos who had sided with the Great King, but he apologized that Pharnabazus had somehow escaped while they were docked at Cos. Nevertheless, Alexander was pleased with the cowering group of prisoners before him and quickly decided their fate. The leaders from Lesbos were sent home to be judged by their own people, who subsequently tortured and executed them. Alexander then issued a decree to the people of Chios that they were now free from the oppressive rule of Persia and were to welcome home the exiles who had fled their island. He also posted a Macedonian garrison there to oversee civic affairs just in case the citizens took their freedom too seriously. But the elders of Chios wisely knew the limits of liberty and drafted a modest constitution, promptly submitting it to Alexander for approval. The king had something special in mind for the former aristocratic rulers of Chios, who had chosen loyalty to Darius over him. So that these oligarchs would feel at home in a familiar insular setting, he exiled them to the tiny island of Elephantine in the middle of the Nile River at the extreme southern border of Egypt. There near the first cataract of the river, more than a thousand miles from home, they could spend their days observing the island’s famous Nilometer, measuring time as the river rose and fell every year for the rest of their lives.

  With the city of Alexandria founded and political affairs in the Greek world in order, Alexander now conceived a powerful desire to visit the distant oasis oracle at Siwa. This remote shrine lay three hundred miles west of the Nile valley in the middle of the vast Sahara desert. It was an unlikely spot for a religious center, but one that had become increasingly well known to Greece. Legend says that both Hercules and the hero Perseus visited the site in ancient times, but it wasn’t until a century before Alexander that the Greeks became fully aware of the oracular cult at Siwa. The divinity honored there was the deity Amun, a ruling god of the Egyptian pantheon. The Greeks, who called him Ammon, naturally saw in the god a counterpart to their own Zeus and frequently referred to the oracle as that of Zeus-Ammon. It is probable that the Aegean world became aware of the cult center of this god, who was often portrayed with ram’s horns, through the Greek colony at Cyrene on the African coast west of Egypt. Caravans from the oasis would have traded at the town and brought word of the fabulous oracle of Ammon across the desert. From there, sailors spread news of the god and his power to Greece. Soon there was a temple to Ammon in Athens, while the famous poet Pindar sang his praises and set up a statue to the god in his hometown of Thebes. The oracle of Zeus-Ammon was reckoned the equal of Dodona or Delphi, though only a few made the arduous trek to the oasis itself.

  Alexander’s visit to the oracle at Siwa is one of the most controversial episodes of his life. Ancient writers speculated endlessly on why he made the journey and what he learned there. The details of the trip are conflicting, incomplete, and sometimes patently invented by those historians who wrote of it. But in spite of the maddening contradictions in the sources, the simple fact remains that Alexander spent several precious weeks in the middle of a war risking his life to travel across one of the most inhospitable deserts in the world to hear the words of a god.

  It is difficult for modern readers to believe that religious motivation was sufficient reason to undertake such a journey at such an inconvenient time. But for us to appreciate the nature of Alexander and the world in which he lived, we must set aside our own preconceptions, skepticism, and cynical disbelief to realize that the ancient world was an age of great mystery and magic. There were doubters, to be sure, but for most people, including Alexander, the gods were everywhere and contro
lled every aspect of life. The flight of a solitary bird in the air, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, a troubling dream in the night—all could be signs from the gods. These divine forces, at special places on the earth, actually spoke to people, though not always clearly. But if one was willing to make the journey to such a site, it was possible to ask a question and hear the very words of a god in response.

  Alexander had many questions, but there were three that weighed most heavily on his mind. First, would he really be able to beat Darius and conquer the lands to the east? He was pitting himself against an immense and powerful empire. No matter his talent as a general and his overflowing youthful optimism, there was a very real chance that he would fail. Second, the king wanted to know if the murderers of his father Philip had all been punished. Given that many suspected Alexander himself as the force behind the assassination, this question may seem like a smokescreen to deflect suspicion from the real culprit. But assuming that Alexander was innocent, it was vital that he find and punish anyone who had a hand in his father’s death. Not to do so would invite blood guilt that would stain his rule and bring on the wrath of heaven. The third and final question was the strangest and most audacious of all—Alexander wanted to know if Philip was really his father or if he was in fact the son of a god. His mother had told him that he was conceived by Zeus, not Philip, when the god possessed her in the form of a lightning bolt. Philip himself had dreamed that he had sealed his wife’s womb with the image of a lion, a vision the prophet Aristander interpreted as a sign that she was already pregnant with a divine child.

  Could Alexander really have been so vainglorious and deluded that he actually believed he was conceived by the king of the gods? This would seem the ultimate in what the Greeks called hubris, the quality of arrogant self-importance that was the prelude to one’s own destruction at the hands of the divine. There were many Greeks who claimed descent from the gods, however distant. In the east, from Egypt to Persia to India, rulers often proclaimed their divine parentage. Was this a coldly calculated propaganda maneuver on Alexander’s part to ease his acceptance by the people of Africa and Asia? Or could Alexander honestly have had doubts about who his father was? It is baffling for modern readers to think he truly believed he could be the son of a god, but again we have to put aside our own preconceptions and see Alexander in the context of his own world. To his subjects, soldiers, friends, and to himself, the idea of divine parentage was bold and daring, but not outrageous. This young man had already beaten the Great King in battle and conquered more land than any Greek had ever dreamed of. To his followers, if such accomplishments were not a sign of divine blood, what could be? We should therefore assume that Alexander’s question about his parentage—however strange it might be to us and whatever uses it might serve to further his political agenda—was sincere.

  From Alexandria the king and a few of his closest companions headed west with camels and local guides following the sea. The easiest route to Siwa from the Nile delta was along the Mediterranean shore for more than 150 miles to the small town of Paraetonium, one of the few safe harbors on this barren coast. Waiting for him at the town was a delegation from the city of Cyrene, many days farther to the west. These ambassadors not only represented their own town but also all the communities surrounding them. They offered Alexander the traditional crown of submission and magnificent gifts, while the king in turn warmly received their allegiance and made a treaty of friendship with them.

  Cyrene was the major Greek settlement in Africa, founded as a colony from the volcanic island of Thera three hundred years earlier. Most of the later settlers were hardy Dorians related to the Spartans and other tribes of southern Greece. Cyrene was a green and fertile region on the edge of the great sandy desert, with the city itself high on a hill inland from the sea. Relations with the native Africans had been difficult at first, but the colonists had in time established hegemony over the native tribes of the region. Cyrene was famous for its horses and export of the valuable but pungent plant silphium, used in seasoning and many medicines, including contraceptives. The town even stamped a stalk of silphium on its coinage. Cyrene had been ruled for centuries by a royal family that had pledged loyalty to Persia, only to be overthrown by its own citizens. The city and its region were a remote but vital center of merchant activity connecting caravan traffic across the Sahara to the Greek world. To pledge loyalty to Alexander cost them little and diverted the Macedonian king from possibly continuing his march along the African coast. But for Alexander to have even nominal control over the region was an important factor in securing the frontier of his empire to the west. Beyond Cyrene was Carthage, an aggressive power that had already run afoul of the king at Tyre. Even now, Alexander may have been laying plans for future war against Carthage and expansion into the western Mediterranean with Cyrene as a key base.

  From the seaside town of Paraetonium, Alexander and his party turned south into the desert. The guides told the king that it was almost two hundred miles to Siwa through a hellish wilderness of shifting sands and fierce south winds, but Alexander was determined to make the journey. As soon as they left behind the coastal plain, the little troop of Macedonians found themselves engulfed in a landscape unlike anything they had ever seen. Arid hills without a trace of vegetation stretched across the horizon, while the deep sand they struggled through reminded them of an endless sea. The wind stirred up the sand, driving it into their eyes and covering their clothing. Not used to desert travel, the men drank their entire water supply in just a few days with no sign of an oasis to be found. To make matters worse, their guides became lost in the blowing sand. Somewhere in the middle of the endless desert that night, the king and his friends realized they were all going to die.

  But then like a gift from the gods, there was suddenly a rainstorm that broke the skies above them. Elated that they had been given a new lease on life, Alexander and his men ran around the camp with their mouths open as they collected water from holes in the ground. The rain cleared the air of dust and left a wonderful freshness across the desert, also making the sand more compact and easier to walk on. But in spite of the reprieve from heaven, they were still lost. It was then that the king saw two ravens flying overhead, common enough birds in the Libyan desert. The birds circled and turned southwest, cawing to the travelers as they went. Realizing that the ravens must be heading toward an oasis, Alexander ordered his party to follow them quickly. (His companion Ptolemy, who would later write an account of their journey, claimed that instead of ravens it was snakes that led the Macedonians to safety.) They soon came to the remote Gara Oasis, known thereafter in antiquity as Alexander’s Camp. They were still far from their goal, but at least they could rest and replenish their water supply before heading onward across dry gorges and over stark gravel hills. Finally, after at least two more days, they struggled to the edge of a barren plateau and gazed down from the cliffs at the broad and unbelievably green oasis of Siwa.

  Stretching fifty miles across the Sahara in a verdant valley just below sea level, Siwa was actually a series of oases and villages. The stark contrast between the barren desert and the lush pomegranate, olive, and palm trees must have been a shocking but welcome sight to Alexander and his friends. Beyond the fruit groves and springs bubbling from the ground was an arid wasteland stretching in all directions, but here at Siwa there were flocks grazing, children laughing, and a rich culture flourishing in splendid isolation. The Ammonii, as the Greeks called the inhabitants, were never a part of Egypt, although they traded with the Nile valley. All around the oases were rich deposits of salt, highly valued by the priests of Egypt for religious rituals. The natives would regularly load the salt into baskets woven from palm leaves and transport it by camel east to Memphis. (A special type of rock salt found at Siwa valued for its chemical properties was known far and wide as the salt of Ammon—thus our term ammonia.) Along with the salt the natives shipped dates, slaves, and other merchandise arriving at their settlement by caravan f
rom far across the Sahara.

  One attraction at Siwa that Alexander would have known from Herodotus was the Spring of the Sun. The pool in the center of a grove sacred to Ammon supposedly poured forth warm water at sunrise, cool water at midmorning, and cold water at noon. As the day passed and the sun sank over the sand hills to the west, the spring would warm until it started the cycle over again at the beginning of the next day. But Alexander was in too much of a hurry to play tourist. He had marched hundreds of miles across the desert to consult the oracle of Ammon, so without even changing clothes, he marched straight to the rocky citadel at the center of the oasis where the temple of the god stood above the trees. The hill also housed the ancient dwelling of the ruling family of Siwa, with walls separating the quarters of the chieftain from those of his wives, concubines, and children. Alexander apparently took no notice of the local nobility as he climbed the citadel and walked boldly into the sanctuary of the great god Ammon.

  The high priest was waiting for him there. Normally an important pilgrim would have been welcomed by a chorus of native women singing hymns to the god, who was represented not by a statue as in a Greek temple but by a little golden boat with silver cups hanging from the side. The priest had scant warning the visiting king was coming and no time to organize the usual festivities, but he wanted to make a good impression on Alexander nonetheless. He apparently knew enough Greek to converse with the occasional visitor from across the sea, but his accent made him difficult to understand. As the king’s friends stood witness outside the door of the sanctuary, the priest greeted Alexander with a paternal O paidon, meaning “O my child”—but with his sibilant pronunciation he changed the last letter so that it came out O paidos. Alexander smiled at this mistake, but saw in it a sign from the god. To the king, it sounded like O pai dios, which in Greek meant “O child of Zeus.” Alexander had wanted to know who his real father was. This slip of the tongue was his first clue.