Alexander (Vol. 2)

by Manfredi, Valerio Massimo

  ‘I thought that after all these terrible ordeals then you might just appreciate a good biscuit or two,’ replied Ada, half-way between being serious and facetious. ‘And I’ve also come to make sure that you don’t treat my city too cruelly.’

  The King took a biscuit and began crunching on it. ‘They are excellent, Mother, and it was stupid of me to send them back last time. As for your city, that is exactly what we are discussing right now, but now that you are here I think I know exactly what we must do.’

  ‘And what might that be?’ asked Ada. Callisthenes was about to ask the same question but his jaw dropped as well, leaving him completely speechless.

  ‘That we nominate you satrap of Caria in place of Orontobates, with full powers over Halicarnassus and all its surrounding lands. My generals will make sure they are all brought under control.’

  Callisthenes managed to shake his head, as if to say ‘madness’, but the Queen was moved by Alexander’s words: ‘But my son, I don’t know if . . .’

  ‘I do know,’ said Alexander interrupting her. ‘I know that you will be an excellent leader and I know that I will be able to trust you completely.’

  He had her sit down on his own throne and turned to Eumenes. ‘Now you may bring in the delegation from the city. It is only right that they should know who will be governing them from tomorrow onwards.’

  *

  The search operations were still under way when Apelles’s arrival was announced. The master of the brushes hurried to pay homage to the young King and make a proposal.

  ‘Sire, I believe that the time has come for you to be represented as you truly deserve; that is to say, as a god.’

  Alexander had to work hard not to burst out laughing. ‘You really think so?’

  ‘But there is no doubt of it. Indeed, I was so sure of your victory here that I had already prepared a small sketch which I would ask your permission to show to you. Of course, you must understand that the completed work will look quite different on a tableau of ten by twenty feet.’

  ‘Ten feet by twenty feet?’ repeated Leonnatus, to whom in all sincerity the use of all that wood and that paint for a not so very tall youngster like Alexander seemed like a waste.

  Apelles threw him a disdainful look – in his eyes Leonnatus was nothing but an uncultivated barbarian, and what was more he had red hair and a freckled complexion. The great painter turned back to Alexander: ‘Sire, my proposal also makes considerable sense if you bear in mind that your Asiatic subjects are used to being governed by superior beings, by sovereigns who are like gods and who have themselves represented as gods. For this reason I feel I should depict you with all the attributes of Zeus – the eagle at your feet and a lightning bolt in your right hand.’

  ‘Apelles is right,’ said Eumenes, who had come in together with Leonnatus and was standing looking at the artist’s sketch. ‘The Asians are used to thinking of their rulers as superhuman beings. And that is how they should see you.’

  ‘How much would this deification cost me?’ asked Alexander.

  The painter shrugged his shoulders. ‘I imagine that with a couple of talents . . .’

  ‘Two talents? But my friend, with two talents I pay for bread, olives, and salted fish for my men for almost one month.’

  ‘Sire, I do not believe that such considerations should concern a great king.’

  ‘A great king, no,’ interrupted Eumenes, ‘but a secretary, yes, since the soldiers take it out on me if there’s not enough food or if it isn’t good enough.’

  Alexander looked first at Apelles, then at Eumenes, then at the sketch and once again at Apelles. ‘I must admit, however, . . .’

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful? Imagine it full size, with its captivating colours, the blinding lightning bolt flashing from your hand. Who would ever dare challenge a young god such as that?’

  At that moment Pancaspe entered and walked straight to Alexander, embraced him and kissed him on the mouth. ‘My Lord,’ she greeted him, staring into his eyes. She held herself so close that he could feel her firm breasts digging into his chest, not unlike the heads of the battering-rams on a siege engine against the wall of a city. The expression on her face clearly indicated that she was ready for anything and was completely free of any possible inhibition.

  ‘My dearest girl . . .’ replied Alexander without giving away any hostage to fortune, ‘. . . it is always a pleasure to see you again.’

  ‘A pleasure which is yours whenever you wish,’ she whispered close to his ear, sufficiently close to touch it slightly with the moist point of her tongue.

  The King turned once again to Apelles to put an end to this embarrassing situation: ‘I must consider it further. It is a large sum of money. In any case I look forward to seeing you both at supper.’

  The painter and his uninhibited companion left the room just as Ptolemy, Philotas, Perdiccas and Seleucus entered, all of them keen on knowing what Alexander intended to do now.

  The King had them sit around a table on which he had unfolded his map. ‘Here we are . . . this is my plan: the engines will be dismantled and transported on carts to Tralles because Parmenion, who will march towards the interior to secure the submission of all the lands along the Meander and the Hermus valleys, will have need of them if some city should decide to resist.’

  ‘And us?’ asked Ptolemy.

  ‘You will come with me. We will move down the coast through Lycia, as far as Pamphylia.’ And as he spoke he traced with a pointer the route he intended to follow.

  Eumenes looked at him and then studied the faces of his companions and realized that none of them had understood the nature of this undertaking.

  ‘You really want to take that route?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Alexander.

  ‘But there is no way through there. No army has ever attempted to travel along those rocks, those cliffs above the sea. And they have certainly never attempted it in autumn, or in winter.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Alexander.

  31

  IN THE END Apelles was given the commission to paint Alexander’s portrait, but for only half the sum he had originally requested. This was due to some tough bargaining by Eumenes, who actually wanted to pay him even less. In any case, the artist set to work immediately in a studio Queen Ada had set up for him, not far from the city’s agora, its assembly place. But because the King had no time to spare for posing, Apelles had to make do with a series of charcoal drawings he managed to make at mealtimes and during the entertainment following the banquet – a recital by Thessalus, Alexander’s favourite actor, together with some musical performances. Apelles hung the drawings on the walls of the studio, dressed a model up to look like the King, and set to work.

  Alexander had no opportunity to admire the finished work because he was far away by the time Apelles completed it, but those who did see it were all agreed on its beauty, even though the King’s complexion was felt to be a trifle too dark. It almost seemed, however, that the artist had done this deliberately to create greater contrast with the blinding white of the lightning bolt.

  Before leaving the King spoke with Parmenion privately in one of the rooms in Ada’s palace.

  Alexander welcomed the old general with a cup of wine as he entered and Parmenion kissed his King on both cheeks before sitting down.

  ‘How are you, General?’ the King asked him.

  ‘I am fine, Sire. And are you well?’

  ‘Much better now that we have taken Halicarnassus, and much of the credit goes to you and your veterans. Your support was crucial.’

  ‘You honour me too much. I did no more than carry out your orders.’

  ‘And now I must ask you to carry out another order.’

  ‘At your service, Sire.’

  ‘Take the Thessalian cavalry together with Amyntas, a squadron of the hetairoi, and the heavy infantry of our Greek allies, and move back towards Sardis.’

  Parmenion’s face lit up, ‘Are we going back home, Sire?’


  Alexander shook his head, disappointed by Parmen-ion’s reaction, and the old general lowered his head, humiliated by his own rash misinterpretation of his King’s words.

  ‘No, Parmenion, we are not going back home. We are consolidating our conquests before moving forward. Come, look at this map – you will travel back up the valley of the Hermus and take complete control of Phrygia. You will also take the siege engines, in case any city should decide to offer resistance.

  ‘As for me, I will continue along the coast as far as Termessus. In this way I will cut off the Persian fleet from all the harbours in the Aegean Sea.’

  ‘You really think so?’ and Alexander could hear a certain tension in the general’s voice. ‘I have received information according to which Memnon is enlisting more men at Chios and is preparing to sail to Euboea and from there Attica and then central Greece to encourage them all to rise up against us.’

  ‘I am aware of this.’

  ‘And do you not think we should return home to face this challenge? What’s more, winter is approaching and . . .’

  ‘Antipater is quite capable of dealing with the situation. He is a wise ruler and an excellent general.’

  ‘Of course, Sire, there is no doubt about that. So my job is to occupy all of Phrygia.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘As I told you, in the meantime I will move along the coast, to Termessus, and then I will turn northwards, towards Ancyra, where you will meet up with me.’

  ‘You plan to travel along the coast to Termessus? Are you aware that for many stadia the road turns into an extremely narrow and dangerous path across the cliffs – no army has ever dared pass through there.’

  Alexander poured some wine and took a few sips.

  ‘I know. I have already been informed.’

  ‘What’s more, Ancyra is in the mountains, at the very heart of the plateau, and when we arrive there it will be midwinter.’

  ‘Yes, midwinter.’

  Parmenion sighed, ‘Well, if that’s the way it is . . . I’ll go to get ready. I imagine I don’t have much time.’

  ‘No, indeed you don’t,’ replied Alexander.

  Parmenion emptied his cup, stood up, took his leave with a slight bow of his head and started walking towards the door.

  ‘General.’

  Parmenion stopped and turned, ‘Yes, Sire.’

  ‘Take good care of yourself.’

  ‘I will try.’

  ‘I will miss your advice and your experience.’

  ‘I will miss you too, Sire.’

  He left and closed the door behind him.

  Alexander returned to his map to study the route he planned to follow, but not long afterwards he heard agitated voices behind the door and the sentry shouting, ‘I cannot disturb the King with this nonsense.’

  The King opened the door and asked, ‘What are you talking about?’

  A young man from the pezhetairoi infantry stood there, clearly an ordinary soldier because he wore no insignia indicating any rank.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘Sire,’ interrupted the sentry, ‘do not waste your time with this one. His problem is he’s feeling a bit randy and he’s dying to give his little wifey one.’

  ‘Seems perfectly reasonable to me,’ said Alexander with a smile. ‘Who are you?’ he then asked the soldier.

  ‘My name is Eudemus, Sire, and I am from Drabescus.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘Sire, I was married shortly before we set off from Macedonia – I spent two weeks with my wife and I haven’t seen her since. Now I’ve heard that not only are we not going back to Macedonia, but we’re pushing on eastwards. Is it true?’

  Alexander thought to himself for a moment about just how powerful the information systems operating among his troops were, but quickly decided it was not so surprising after all. ‘Yes, it is true,’ he replied.

  The young soldier lowered his head in resignation.

  ‘You don’t seem so keen on following your King and your companions.’

  ‘That’s not it, Sire, it’s just that . . .’

  ‘You want to sleep with your wife.’

  ‘The truth is . . . yes. And there are many others who feel the same way. Our families wanted us to marry because we had all been called up and they wanted us to leave an heir in case . . . you never know when you’re at war.’

  Alexander smiled. ‘There is no need to say any more. They wanted me to marry as well, but one of the few advantages of being king is that one gets married only if one wants to. How many of you are there?’

  ‘Six hundred and ninety-three.’

  ‘By the gods, right down to the last detail!’ exclaimed the King.

  ‘Well yes . . . we thought that since winter was coming there wouldn’t be any fighting and so we wanted to ask you . . .’

  ‘For permission to return to your wives.’

  ‘That’s exactly how it is, Sire,’ admitted the soldier, encouraged by Alexander’s openness.

  ‘Did your companions choose you to represent them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because . . .’

  ‘Please speak frankly.’

  ‘Because I was the first through the breach when the wall collapsed and I jumped from the burning siege tower only after the battering-ram had brought the wall down.’

  ‘Perdiccas mentioned a soldier who carried out this deed, but he didn’t tell me his name. I am proud to meet you in person, Eudemus, and I am happy to grant your wish and that of your companions. You will each be given one hundred Cyzicus staters and two months’ leave.’

  The soldier was so moved his eyes filled with tears. ‘Sire, I . . . really . . .’ he stammered.

  ‘But there is one condition.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Sire.’

  ‘When you return, you must bring me more warriors. One hundred for every one of you – foot-soldiers or horsemen, it matters not.’

  ‘I give you my word. You can count them as already being in the ranks.’

  ‘And now you may go.’

  The soldier didn’t know how to thank Alexander and stood there motionless.

  ‘Well? Weren’t you dying to run back home to your wife?’

  ‘Yes, but I just wanted to tell you . . . I just wanted to say that . . .’

  Alexander smiled and gestured to him to wait. He went over to a casket, took from it a gold necklace with a small cameo depicting the goddess Artemis and gave it to him.

  ‘She is the protectress of brides and mothers. Give it to your wife and tell her it is a gift from me.’

  The soldier wanted to speak, but the lump in his throat prevented him. All he managed, with a tremor in his voice, was, ‘Thank you, Sire.’

  32

  THE SIX HUNDRED AND ninety-three young men who had expressed their desire to join their wives left at the beginning of autumn for the journey back to Macedonia, where they would spend the winter. Shortly afterwards Parmenion also set off with part of the army and the Thessalian cavalry. The King, after having consulted the old general, gave command of this last to his cousin Amyntas, who had always displayed great valour and loyalty. The Black, Philotas and Craterus were part of this group too.

  Alexander then held a restricted council meeting with Seleucus, Ptolemy and Eumenes, inviting them to supper.

  So as to avoid problems of jealousy arising, he had arranged for his other companions, including Hephaestion, to be busy with duties in the surrounding area, and the chosen three were left feeling that they were in the camp and had been invited by chance. But the subject which Alexander broached left them in no doubt that at that moment the King was calling upon their intelligence rather than their physical prowess.

  Not even the servants were admitted – only Leptine brought the food to them as they sat around a table, just like the days when they used to attend Aristotle’s lessons at Mieza.

  ‘Our informers te
ll me that Memnon has had an enormous sum of money sent to him from the Great King. It was transported by sea – an extremely risky operation. He intends to use it to enlist over one hundred thousand men, an army with which he will invade Greece. But perhaps more important is the fact that he has apparently already begun distributing gifts among many influential figures in all the Greek cities. General Parmenion has already expressed his opinion . . .’

  ‘That we should return home?’ Seleucus guessed.

  ‘Indeed,’ replied Alexander.

  Leptine began serving their supper: grilled fish with beans and wine cut with water. It was a light meal, a sign that the King wanted them all to remain clear-headed.

  ‘And what are your plans?’ asked Ptolemy.

  ‘I have already made a decision, but I want to know your view. Seleucus?’

  ‘I say we should push on. Even if Memnon should succeed in taking Greece, what will he have achieved? He will never manage to enter Macedonia because Antipater simply will not allow it. And if we continue to occupy all the ports along the Asian coast, the Great King will eventually lose contact with him. In the end he will have to capitulate.’

  ‘Ptolemy?’

  ‘I see things as Seleucus does – let’s continue. If we could find some way of killing Memnon, though, that would be a good thing. It would save us no end of problems and would be like the Great King having his right arm amputated.’ Alexander seemed shocked and surprised by this proposal, but he continued his consultation: ‘Eumenes?’

  ‘Ptolemy is right. We must continue, but if we can we must also eliminate Memnon – he is too dangerous and too intelligent. He is unpredictable.’

  Alexander was silent for a short while, chewing his fish without much enthusiasm, then he took a sip of wine.

  ‘Let us continue onwards then. I have already asked Hephaestion to go on ahead to the pass which they say is very difficult terrain, between Lycia and Pamphylia. In a few days we will know if it really is as bad as they say. Parmenion will go back up the Hermus valley as far as the highlands, where we will meet with him in spring. Our route will be the one which leads from the coast to the centre of Anatolia.’