“Is this true? How do you know this?” For once, Seleukos was as dumbfounded as Kleitos.
And I sat there, gritting my teeth, thunderstruck. How could I have fallen into this trap?
“Don’t stop now!” Aristandros was beaming. “Please finish your story.”
“No, that’s all I know. It’s a story a drunk sailor told me once when I visited Athens with Alexandros. This is as far as he got before a passing porne got her claws into him.” I knew it was too late but I wished I could’ve stuffed my words back down my throat.
Seleukos, perhaps because he wanted to help or, more likely, because he wanted to show that he was almost as well-informed as Aristandros and I, decided to dive into the deepening silence. “Well, in that case, let me tell you a story a middle-aged merchant told me the last time we occupied Ephesos. According to him, a long time before Athens reached its pinnacle of culture and learning, the leading intellectual centers of the Greek world were the city-states of Ionia. Herakleitos, famous for his observation that, ‘No man ever steps into the same river twice,’ came from Ephesos; the island of Samios claimed Pythagoras, the great mathematician and mystic, as a native son; Miletos gave birth to Thales, one of the Seven Sages of Greece and recognized as the first true lover of wisdom, or philosopher, by Aristoteles himself; and Anaximandros and Anaximenes, two other well-known, early philosophers, carried on Thales’s work in Miletos. Herodotos the Historian came from nearby Halikarnassos.”
I interrupted. “You do know that Halikarnassos, although situated close to Miletos and possessing a large Greek-speaking minority, is in Karia and not considered a part of Ionia.” My rush to self-unmasking, and consequent self-destruction, was pathetic.
Seleukos pretended he hadn’t been interrupted. “As I was saying, according to this well-educated, native-born merchant, the Ionian League of Greek Settlements, as it came to be known, consisted of twelve city-states, including the two adjoining islands of Samios and Chios. They were modest in size and population but strategically located athwart the juncture of overland trade routes from Anatolia, Mesopotamia, Persia, India, and points beyond and the sea lanes leading to Cyprus, Krete, Egypt, Greece, Sicily, Italy, and the western Mediterranean. In the fullness of time, the Ionian city-states succeeded in transmuting their strategic location into enormous wealth.”
“That’s exactly right.” I jumped in again. “But did you know that it was this wealth which, on the one hand, provided people like Thales, Pythagoras, and Herodotos with the leisure to pursue their interests in philosophy, mathematics, and history, but which, on the other hand, led to never-ending envy, enmity, and attack from their less fortunate but more populous neighbors? After a brief period of independence, following the collapse of the Hittite Empire, there came an endless succession of occupiers, including the Assyrians, Phrygians, Medes, Lydians, and Persians. By the time the Macedonian expeditionary force arrived on the scene, some two years ago, Ionian Greeks had spent the preceding two hundred plus years as subjects of the Persian Empire, despite repeated revolts and short stretches of freedom.”
“Yes, I did know that.” Seleukos’s voice was flat. “You forget I was part of that expeditionary force. Unlike you Johnny-come-latelies.”
Aristandros was trying hard not to look like the cat that swallowed the canary. “Now, now boys. Let’s not fight. You’re both very well informed. Although I can’t fathom how this foreign fart came to know so much about our business.”
Kleitos shook his head. “I don’t know either. It’s like I never met you before, Ptolemaios. Who are you?”
“What are you talking about? Everybody knows the liberation of the Ionian Greeks and the unification of all Greek-speaking people around the Aegean Sea had been the dream of ambitious Greek leaders since at least the time of Perikles of Athens.”
“I didn’t know that. Who’s Perikles?”
I forged ahead. “And our old king, Philippos Deuteros of Macedonia, had spent a good portion of his reign chasing that dream. Unfortunately, he died on the eve of leading our pan-Hellenic invasion of Anatolia. But now, his son is finally ready to launch the decisive and permanent liberation of Ionia. Unfortunately, he has to make a short detour to Sardeis first, for a much-needed replenishment of his treasury.”
“Whoever called him Philippos Deuteros of Macedonia?”
“What do you mean, ‘a much-needed replenishment of his treasury’?”
“Enjoy it, Metoikos. You’ll never recover from this.”
I finally shut up, long after the horses had bolted from the stable. Aristandros the Seer was right – I’d never recover from this. It was way too late to undo the harm. What possessed you to do that? I asked myself.
*******
“Ouch, that hurts,” Kallisthenes cried out as another load of coins cascaded down on his head.
“Next time, put your helmet on.” Hephaistion laughed as he picked up another strong box and proceeded to empty its contents over the hapless scribe.
“Does he even have a helmet?” Aristandros inquired with his typical sneer.
“Do you?” Kleitos rounded on the seer and splashed fistfuls of coins directly into his face.
Alexandros intervened. “Boys, boys, we’re supposed to be counting the loot, not playing in it.” But then he undermined his words by diving into the large pile of coins, gold and silver bars, precious stones and jewelry that was slowly accumulating on the floor of the treasury, as we emptied more and more of the wooden and clay containers.
“Watch your head,” Hephaistion cautioned. “Your wound is still fresh.”
“Good point. Give me that shield!” Alexandros lay down on the floor, placed the shield over his head, and ordered us to cover him in gold. “Feels heavy,” he observed.
“Like two fat whores on top of you at the same time,” Kleitos contributed.
Alexandros laughed. “But even more luxurious. Keep piling it on!”
“It’s like watching a bunch of kids at a grape-pressing party,” Philotas observed.
“You’re a lot like your father, you know.” Alexandros sat up and shook off the coins. “Go outside and see to the guard. We don’t want anybody interrupting us in here.”
As soon as Philotas was out of the hall, Alexandros resumed splashing around in his jumble of riches. “C’mon boys, dive in! We’re swimming in gold!”
Hephaistion got down on his knees and started to build a fortress, made of gold darics, Milesian staters, Ephesian tetradrachmas, and whatever other coins came to hand. His walls collapsed before he got very far.
“Who would’ve thought,” Perdikkas marveled, “when I seized this city, there was so much treasure here?”
We all stopped our tally and looked up at him. “You seized it?” Seleukos asked.
Alexandros stood up. “Enough goofing around. Let’s get back to counting. Hephaistion, you take charge; I’ve got some other matters to attend to. The rest of you boys help him out. Perdikkas, you come with me.”
Alexandros left the treasury, but not without regret and not before calling back, “and no souvenirs,” over his shoulder. “Aristandros is keeping an eye on each one of you.”
Hephaistion was not much of a warrior but he was an efficient administrator. There were about thirty of us in the large, windowless, sparsely furnished room and he had us working late into the evening sorting, counting, and re-packing the loot. We were all racing to get out in time to make it to the banquet that night (all the food and most of the wine was gone by the time we got there) but he made each of us strip naked before letting us leave the antechamber, then carefully checked our clothes and body cavities, before returning our gear. “It’s not that I don’t trust each and every one of you,” he said with a smile, “but gold can get so sticky.”
All told, there were more than two million silver coins in the treasury, of various weights and denominations, minted at cities throughout Persia and Greece, with some coins from Egypt and the Aegean islands thrown in. Even without counting th
e eighty talents of gold, the jewelry, and the precious stones, there was more than enough silver to cover the wages of each soldier in our army, from the time we crossed the Hellespont to the day we conquered Sardeis.
Of course, we didn’t really conquer Sardeis. It was more a case of Sardeis being handed over to us. Reports of Alexandros’s triumph at Granikos, coupled with a restive population of ethnic Greeks within the city walls, had persuaded the Persian commander of the garrison, a dandified courtier named Mithrines, that his future lay in collaboration with the Macedonians. Hence, when we approached the city walls of the Lydian capital, Mithrines led out a delegation of local citizens and turned the city over to us.
Alexandros invited the delegation to dine with us and negotiated the terms of surrender over a few cups of wine. The surrender was unconditional. Not only the city and its inhabitants, but also the akropolis, with its Persian garrison and its Persian treasury, were to be turned over to us, without any resistance. In return, Alexandros promised nothing. He dispatched Perdikkas, with a few squadrons of infantry, to take control of the city, to disarm any soldiers within, and to secure the Persian treasury. In the meantime, he kept Mithrines and his delegation of leading citizens hostage, just in cases there was any trouble. There was none. Perdikkas was in complete control of Sardeis in a matter of hours. Alexandros and his staff took up residence atop the akropolis the next day, while the rank and file settled in throughout the city.
“We are an army of liberation,” Alexandros reminded the troops before letting them loose on the city. “So, we don’t want to destroy what we already own. Plus, we want to set an example to the cities of Ionia: If they surrender, we won’t harm them. Don’t kill anybody, unless they’re trying to kill you, and don’t take anything, unless you pay for it first. And that includes the women,” he added to some laughter.
The troops showed exemplary discipline. There was no looting or mayhem. It helped that Alexandros promptly distributed the contents of the Persian treasury among the troops, covering not only their overdue wages but also adding a generous bonus.
Next, Alexandros reorganized the administration of Sardeis and of Lydia, setting a template for future arrangements for the governance of liberated cities and satrapies. He appointed Parmenion’s brother Asandros satrap of Lydia. (The office was vacant, because the previous incumbent, Spithridates, had been killed at Granikos.) In a departure from established custom, however, Alexandros separated financial affairs from the remaining duties of a satrap and assigned control of Lydia’s vast income to a trusted Macedonian nobleman named Nikias. He installed a company of Argives, one of the Greek contingents of our pan-Hellenic army, as garrison on the akropolis, but placed them under the command of a Macedonian cavalry commander named Pausanias. (He was known as Short Pausanias, to distinguish him from the many other Pausaniases in our ranks.)
Beyond making these three key appointments, Alexandros retained all of the existing local administrators in their positions. Presumably, Asandros, Nikias, and Pausanias would keep an eye on them, as well as on one another. Alexandros also maintained all tax and tribute payments unchanged, except for redirecting their flow from the Persian to the Macedonian treasury. The liberated inhabitants of Sardeis could have been forgiven for failing to notice much change from their prior status as vassals of the Persian Empire.
*******
Barsine, too, was ready for liberation, but despaired of Dareios’s ever relinquishing the control over her husband Memnon that keeping her and their children hostage gave him. Accordingly, she decided to propitiate the Fates, take charge of her life, and make good her escape from the harem. Just at that moment, though, she could have used an extra hand.
It was pitch dark and they couldn’t see a thing. The children had been wonderful, not uttering a sound. The little one was always a sound sleeper but she gave him a drop of wine at the last feeding, just to be on the safe side. He was sleeping contentedly on her back. And the girls were brave little angels, terrified but quiet and obedient. She was holding the two-year-old and the four-year-old by the hand. Unfortunately, this left no hand over for the six-year-old, who arguably needed it the most, because she was old enough to glimpse the stakes at issue.
As they crept along in the darkness, Barsine fought to suppress her trepidation. She was under no illusions as to the treatment she could expect if they were caught but she hoped their captors would at least hesitate before harming the children of the commander of the Persian army. Of course, she knew better. Nobody was ever safe in Persia. Yet, she kept trying to convince herself otherwise.
She knew it was a mistake to walk on the road. Still, in the obscurity of the night, sticking to the well-trodden path gave them their best chance of making any headway before dawn. It was imperative that they be as far from the camp as possible when the first light of the new day revealed their absence. So, they continued to stumble along in the middle of the roadway.
She thought she’d heard something. She paused. There was definitely somebody or something behind them. She herded the kids into the glowering gloom beyond the fringe of the road. The six-year-old tripped and fell but didn’t cry out. She wanted to gather the little girl into her arms; there was no time. They plunged deeper into the unfathomable blackness. Thorns tore their skin, vines grabbed their feet, and rough branches pummeled their arms. The quiet, timid sound of rustling leaves caught up to them and then passed within an arm’s length. It was just a deer.
She dragged the children back to the road. Even though they didn’t utter any complaint, she could tell from the rhythm of their breathing that they were all crying. She wanted to stop for a moment in order to kiss away their tears but decided to redouble their speed instead. She thought she had detected the first glimmers of dawn ahead. Turned out, it was only her tired eyes playing tricks on her.
She definitely heard something. This time it was no illusion. She heard the beating of hooves. It was getting louder, almost loud enough to drown out the pounding of her heart. They dove back into the thorns, vines, and pugilistic branches. A rider clattered by. All of them, except the baby, were frozen in fear. The peaceful, regular breathing of the baby sounded as loud as the bellows of a furnace in her ears. She was sure the rider would stop and peer into the underbrush. He rode on instead, not even slackening his pace. It might have been one of the eunuchs from the harem but how could she possibly tell in the dark?
The only reason why anyone would have ridden out of the camp in the middle of the night was because their absence had been discovered, of that she was certain. She wondered whether others would follow. She also wondered whether the first one would turn around and return. She was paralyzed by indecision.
“Mommy, I have to pee,” the six-year-old whispered.
Barsine laughed. “Go ahead, dear. This is the perfect place to pee.”
When all the girls were done, they resumed their walk down the road. After a while, she thought she could see a dim, solitary light far in the distance. Perhaps a torch kept aflame by a fellow denizen of the dark. She hoped it marked the location of the homestead she had seen from the road during the previous day’s march. Would they grant her shelter? She didn’t know.
Chapter 7 – Ephesos
It took Alexandros eight days to complete the liberation of Sardeis and to implement the transfer of power over the entire Lydian satrapy from Persia to Macedonia. At dawn of our ninth day in Sardeis, we were off once again, this time intent on liberating the great Ionian port city of Ephesos. We brought Mithrines with us, to provide intelligence and to teach us about Persian tactics, according to Alexandros. I had my doubts as to the real reasons why this turncoat accompanied us. The renegade himself didn’t seem overly taxed by his change of allegiance and spent most of his time, as far as I could tell, fawning over Alexandros.
The trip from Sardeis to Ephesos seemed more a recreational jaunt than a military march. Although the men’s purses were heavy with all the back pay they had received and their legs exhausted
from all the whoring in which they had indulged, they strode along sprightly, singing as they went. The army covered the seventy miles to the coast in less than four days. It helped that it was a mostly downhill march on one of the emperor’s wide, well-maintained royal roads.
We crested the heights over Ephesos just as the sun was sinking into the sparkling blue waters of the Aegean, casting a golden glow over the magnificent metropolis spread out below our feet. I had been to Athens and had sampled its grandeur but Athens was a dowdy old matron, admittedly still beautiful and lavishly accoutered with pearly edifices and precious temples, but showing her age nevertheless, compared to the youthful vigor, salubrious sensuality, and joyful sparkle of Ephesos. Athens, which housed perhaps twice as many inhabitants as Ephesos, had grown up organically over the centuries, with a couple of broad, curvaceous roadways leading from its gates to the large agora, but in-between these ancient thoroughfares lay a tangled maze of narrow, winding alleys, teeming with people, animals, and vermin. Ephesos, by contrast, thanks in part to having been repeatedly conquered, destroyed, and then totally rebuilt once again, had straight, broad avenues, intersected at right angles by narrower, but equally straight streets, with small back alleys further subdividing the regular blocks of private dwellings and municipal facilities. Most of the residential buildings were covered in glistening white stucco, with burnt-sienna-colored tiled roofs. The public edifices – temples, gymnasia, theaters, government offices, and market stalls – were scattered strategically throughout the city. Only on the far side, down by the harbor, did weathered, utilitarian, wooden warehouses, wharves, and piers fall short of the resplendent perfection of the city. But those structures were almost invisible in the shimmering luster of the setting sun.
The central avenue, which bisected the city, ran all the way from the harbor to a small hill, just beyond the city walls. Built at the foot of the hill was a large, sumptuous amphitheater but our eyes were drawn further up the hill, beyond the city walls, and to our right. There, atop a high plateau, gleamed the crowning jewel of the city, the still unfinished Temple of Artemis. (Artemis, a somewhat conflicted deity, was the goddess of wild animals and of hunting, of virginity and of childbirth, of the pure state of nature and of the man-made cities of Ionia, including of course the city of Ephesos.)
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