Hekatomnos had three sons and two daughters: Mausolos, Artemisia, Idrieos, Pixodaros, and Ada. To keep things in the family, Mausolos married his sister Artemisia and Idrieos married Ada. (There being no sister left for him, the third son, Pixodaros, was forced to marry a cousin.)
When Hekatomnos died (in 209 Z.E.), Mausolos and Artemisia became king and queen of Karia. They decided to move their seat of government to a sleepy port on the Aegean coast, named Halikarnassos, and turn it into a naval base for their rapidly expanding maritime empire. They dredged and enlarged the small harbor and built two fortresses to protect it. One, called King’s Castle, was built on a small island in the harbor; the other one, named after the naiad Salmakis, was situated on a promontory jutting into the harbor. They also rebuilt and greatly enlarged the original fortress located farther inland, on the akropolis. Then they surrounded their burgeoning city with tall, impregnable walls, punctuated at regular intervals by forbidding watchtowers and by fortified, easily defensible gates.
After seeing to security arrangements, Mausolos and Artemisia embarked on a spectacular building program, turning the small, albeit venerable, town into the greatest and most magnificent city on the coast of Anatolia. For their residence, they built themselves a huge, gleaming, marble-clad palace, with beautiful decorations inside and out. The palace adjoined Salmakis Fortress and took up the rest of the space on the promontory overlooking the harbor.
Between the harbor and the akropolis, they laid out a rectilinear grid of wide, paved streets, lined with homes for ordinary people, temples for the gods, agoras, colonnades, and porticoes for the merchants, stoas for the artists, theaters and circuses for entertainment, palaistrai and gymnasia for physical culture, and assorted public buildings and spaces for the exercise of government functions. Many of the intersections, squares, porticoes, theaters, temples, and public buildings were adorned with colorful statuary and paintings of gods, heroes, athletes, and wealthy patrons.
When Mausolos died, after twenty-four years of joint rule, Artemisia built a tomb for him that became the crowning architectural achievement of their reign. It was built on an artificial, stepped terrace in the heart of the city, next to the thoroughfare that connected the western and eastern gates. It was not a very large building, perhaps an eighth of the size of the Artemision in Ephesos, but much taller. With its raised stylobate, tall walls, and a steep, pyramidal roof, topped by a massive horse-drawn chariot at its apex, it towered above the city and was visible to mariners long before they reached the harbor. Its four external marble walls were completely covered by brightly painted sculptural reliefs of such striking beauty, balance, and harmony that the building instantly became another of the Seven Wonders of the World.
Mausolos’s resting place was called the Mausoleion and the name stuck, even after Artemisia was laid next to her husband after ruling over Karia for two years on her own. (It was said that she died of a broken heart. However, considering the avidity with which her successors took up her vacated post, there may be room for skepticism concerning the purported etiology of her demise.) Thanks to the magnificent sepulcher built for him by his wife, Mausolos’s name has survived to this day; Artemisia’s name has been largely forgotten.
Artemisia was succeeded by her brother Idrieos and sister Ada as co-rulers of Karia. After they had reigned for seven years, Idrieos died. Ada hung on for four more years, at which point the third brother, Pixodaros, grew tired of waiting for his turn. He overthrew and exiled his sister. Ada took up residence in a mountain fastness in the interior of Karia, called Alinda.
Pixodaros had several daughters and, in keeping with the usual practice, he decided to use them to cement his position on the Karian throne. He married off his eldest daughter to a well-connected Persian nobleman named Orontobates, thus hoping to secure his Persian flank. For one of his younger daughters, however, he had a revolutionary brainstorm. He decided to look west, across the Aegean, and use his younger daughter to forge an alliance with the rising power in the Greek world, Philippos of Macedonia. Because Pixodaros was a realist, because he knew that he was a minor dynast in an obscure little kingdom in Persian-dominated Anatolia, and because his younger daughter was no beauty, he offered her as a bride to Philippos’s half-wit son Arrhidaios. Everybody knew that Arrhidaios would never amount to anything, in light of his mental limitations, but a marriage alliance was a marriage alliance and Pixodaros figured a half-wit was the best he could snag under the circumstances. Philippos accepted the proposal and the nuptial arrangements were set in motion.
This is where Alexandros’s previous history with Karia came into play. Philippos had a second son, by another wife, who was nineteen at the time. This son, probably egged on by his mother, was in the midst of a fight with his father. When this second son found out about the proposed marriage of Arrhidaios to Pixodaros’s younger daughter, he immediately (and irrationally) smelled a conspiracy by his father to deny him the throne of Macedonia and swung into action. He dispatched his own emissary to Pixodaros to offer himself as his daughter’s husband. Pixodaros was naturally more than pleased to exchange a full-wit for a half-wit and promptly agreed to the upgrade. When Philippos found out, however, he confronted the second son, yelling at him, among other, less flattering observations: “Do you think that the daughter of a mere Karian, who’s nothing more than a vassal of the barbarian king, is suitable marriage material for the future king of Macedonia?” (The half-wit Arrhidaios was not expected to become king of Macedonia, even though he was Philippos’s eldest son.) In the end, neither son married Pixodaros’s younger daughter. Philippos’s second son, who came within a whisker of becoming the future pretender to the throne of Karia, was Alexandros.
Now, three short years later, Alexandros was once again entertaining hopes of becoming the ruler of Karia but there were at least three obstacles in his way. First, Memnon was at that very moment organizing the formidable defenses of Halikarnassos. Second, Orontobates, who had succeeded to the Karian throne upon the death of his father-in-law, could bring his own, substantial resources to bear in defense of his kingdom. Third, Alexandros’s pose as the great liberator, coming at the head of a pan-Hellenic army to free the Greek cities of Ionia, would lose some of its force when used to justify an attack on the capital of the nominally independent, non-Greek kingdom of Karia. Hence, the detour on our way to Halikarnassos.
*******
We hiked uphill for days (actually two days) before reaching the mountain fastness of Alinda, home of Ada, the legitimate queen of Karia (at least as far as Ada was concerned). Upon my first glimpse of the formidable walls of Ada’s fortress, I had a moment of doubt as to the sanity of Alexandros’s route but I needn’t have worried. When we reached the last clearing before the walls, the gates flew open and a small, elegantly-attired delegation stepped out, to the sound of horns, flutes, and drums. In the midst of the group, eight bare-chested, middle-aged men carried an extravagant litter on their shoulders. Upon reaching the head of our column, the litter bearers lowered their burden and a lithe, alluring woman sprang out, located Alexandros, and prostrated herself in front of Boukephalas’s hooves.
Alexandros appeared pleased. “Rise, young lady, and identify yourself.”
“Your exalted highness. I’m Ada, queen of the Karians. We were anticipating your arrival as our nephew-in-law only a few short years ago but now we welcome you not only as our nephew but also as our conqueror.”
Alexandros smiled and alighted from his horse, motioning to the rest of us to do the same. Ada stepped forward and embraced him, leaving a smudge on his cheek. “We’ve been looking forward to your arrival, your highness,” she said. “May I present the members of the royal court?”
She was small but generously endowed, heavily made up, and wearing a fancy, glittering robe, which displayed her attributes and her many jewels in a flattering light. Resisting the ubiquitous misogyny of that era, I chose to direct my attention to her face. Having done so, I realized she might’ve had many
desirable assets but youth was not among them. The cosmetologist who had painted her face was indeed an artist but he wasn’t a magician. Under the layers of paint, I could discern the trembling of slightly sagging jowls, the crosshatching of imperceptible but unmistakable furrows of time, and the intimations of gathering folds of future chins. Letting my gaze drop below her neck, I realized it was only a marvel of sartorial engineering that kept her magnificent, jiggling bosom aloft and any supernumerary flesh safely sequestered. Fortunately for her, I doubted that either Alexandros or the other members of his bodyguard managed to see below her surface allure.
Ada introduced some of the people in her entourage, all of whom were male, middle-aged or older, and rather shabbily dressed. Alexandros listened amiably, nodding and smiling. Then she beckoned her servants to step forward with a long train of gifts, which appeared to be numerous and chintzy. Alexandros accepted them graciously. Finally, she invited Alexandros, along with his officers, into her fortress for a celebratory feast.
Alexandros laughed. “Every soldier in my army is an officer, my dear lady, so I hope you have a large banqueting hall.”
Even under her layers of paint, the Queen of Karia visibly blanched. “I’m afraid, irresistible sire, that our accommodations may be too modest ...”
“Invincible,” Hephaistion interrupted her. “We call him invincible, madam – Alexandros Aniketos.”
Ada regained her color and then some. “I’m so, so, sorry,” she stammered. “Your invincible highness, I’m afraid we don’t have enough room to accommodate all your soldiers.”
“An outdoor feast, then,” Alexandros suggested jovially, “on the parade grounds of your fortress, perhaps.”
“I suppose that might be possible,” Ada agreed reluctantly. Then, trying to regain her footing, she grabbed Alexandros by the elbow and they proceeded to walk, arm in arm, into the fortified village, trailed by the rest of us.
The village was hardly large enough to accommodate an entire army. In the end, after Alexandros assured himself that there were no hidden assailants lurking within the fortress walls, he ordered the men to set up camp outside the walls and promised that the feast would be delivered to them. He then entered, with his usual crew of aides, into the large, stone house that functioned as Ada’s castle.
We were ushered into a large dining room, furnished with comfortable, well-worn carpets and pillows, and told to make ourselves at home. Ada fluttered all around us, alternately issuing orders to her servants and fawning over Alexandros. Wine was brought in. After the usual prayers and libations, we were each handed a gold cup, filled to the rim. It turned out to be a remarkably rich, smooth, bright, and sweet vintage. “It’s ambrosia,” Alexandros crooned approvingly.
The servants brought in little tables for each of us, followed by platter after platter of food. We started out with flatbreads, served with olive oil and exotic fruits, such as oranges, pomegranates, and various berries. Then came the meat dishes. Some of them were recognizable, mostly mutton and poultry, but the rest were stews and kebabs whose ingredients I couldn’t make out, although they seemed to consist mostly of vegetables such as eggplants, cucumbers, onions, olives, some kind of squash. All were uniformly delicious, some sweet and sour, some spicy, with a hint of saffron, cumin, coriander, and mint. Then came sweet pastries, nuts, dates, and figs. And throughout it all, the sweet wine kept flowing.
Alexandros, reclining between Hephaistion and Ada, was enjoying himself hugely. He drank beyond moderation, as usual, but didn’t forget about his soldiers. “Go check on the men,” he whispered to Seleukos. “Make sure they’re equally well cared for.”
Seleukos returned in a little while and whispered something in Alexandros’s ear. Alexandros got up and was joined by Hephaistion. Soon, the rest of us were clustered around him.
“The men are getting fed,” Seleukos was saying. “It’s nothing fancy but it’s wholesome and palatable. But there’s no food left in the village. The locals didn’t eat tonight and, by the looks of it, they won’t have anything to eat tomorrow either.”
“What do you mean?” Alexandros asked.
“I mean they’re serving us the last of their food. These people have nothing.”
I wondered at Alexandros’s reaction to this intelligence. He turned to Ada and asked her to rise. “Come for a walk with me,” he said.
We strolled through her “castle.” It was immaculately clean, comfortably furnished, and elaborately decorated but all the rugs, chairs, tables, and chests were old, worn, and creaky. The paintings on the walls were cracked and fading. Many of the smaller rooms seemed abandoned and dilapidated. All the serving gold and silver had apparently been mobilized for our use in the dining room. There may have been dignity but there was no wealth in this household.
Ada seemed on the verge of tears but she kept her back straight and a smile on her face. “We have what we need. I’m a simple person, although I am also the queen of Karia.”
Alexandros’s voice was gentle. “I know, mother, I know.” He took her in his arms. “I’ll get you your kingdom back,” he whispered, as she cried on his shoulder.
We stayed only long enough for our foraging parties to go out and replenish the food stocks of the villagers. Then Ada threw another banquet, during which she officially adopted Alexandros as her son and heir, and we were off to Halikarnassos to liberate the Karians from the clutches of their Persian oppressors and to restore Ada as their legitimate queen.
*******
The harem was in an uproar. Two short days after finally arriving at their temporary home in Damaskos, and while still in the midst of unpacking their clothes, jewelry, and cosmetics, the women were told that Dareios himself was planning to inspect the harem that evening. This was akin to an announcement that Zeus was planning to descend from Mount Olympos for a little family visit, perhaps disguised as a swan. If anything, Dareios’s arrival was viewed with more trepidation because, in addition to holding the power of life and death over the inmates (in this respect they were no different from anybody else in the Persian Empire), he also determined the pecking order of the women in his harem.
Unlike their permanent establishments in Ekbatana, Susa, Persepolis, and Babylon, this temporary harem was housed mostly in tents, enclosed within the walls of an old fort on the outskirts of Damaskos. Of course, these were not ordinary tents. Laid out on the parade grounds in the middle of the fort was an entire complex of colorful, gaily-decorated tents, some large, some bigger than large, and some enormous, erected along grassy “streets” and “avenues,” and arranged according to a strict hierarchy.
The tent of Dareios’s mother, Sisygambis, situated at the very center of the tent city, comprised six rooms, separated by light, linen walls, including an oversized sitting room suitable for entertaining visitors, a generously proportioned sleeping chamber, a dressing room, a prayer chamber, a dining room (in case she decided to skip a meal in the communal dining hall), and a small servants’ room in which her night crew slept, ever vigilant for those urgent middle-of-the-night demands. All the walls had flaps, to keep the air fresh; the floors were covered in canvas, with lots of rugs, furs, comforters, and pillows strewn about; and the roof, with flaps of its own, was painted a robin’s egg blue and kept high aloft by slender, decorated poles.
The tent of Dareios’s number one wife, Stateira, was right across the “street” from her mother-in-law’s tent and dwarfed it in size. Really, it was a whole complex of tents, housing not only the despot herself but also her two spoiled daughters, Little Stateira and Drypetis, her fractious young son, Ochos, and some of their many, many servants and slaves.
Barsine, her three girls and infant son, and their two serving girls lived in a large, one-room tent at the edge of the tent city. It was adequate for their needs.
The communal dining hall was a huge, military-style tent with row upon row of tables and benches, erected at one side of the tent city, next to the various food preparation areas. It was quite a come
down for the leading ladies of the harem because there was no throne, no dais, no indicia of superior rank. In fact, there was hardly enough room for the lower ranking women even to properly prostrate themselves when the leading ladies walked in. As a result, the leading ladies mostly ate in their own tents.
The latrine was a labyrinth of enclosed cubicles and hallways, strategically placed above an open sewer. The ditch was supposed to be emptied each night by slaves but it stank to high heaven nevertheless. (It didn’t help that the latrine, although it had canvas walls, had no roof, permitting the stench to permeate the entire camp.)
The eunuchs and most of the slaves were housed in the soldiers’ quarters of the abandoned fort. These were bare, filthy, vermin-infested, fetid, and overcrowded rooms but they did have real walls and the remnants of a roof, which made them in some ways superior to the tents, at least during inclement weather.
News of the emperor’s anticipated visit arrived shortly after the midday meal. Stateira suffered an immediate bout of intestinal incontinence, resulting in an endless relay of chamber pot runners, while two other teams of servants attended to both sets of her cheeks, trying hard not to mix up the unguents being applied to her nether regions with the creams getting rubbed on her face. Her eldest daughter, Little Stateira, who was twelve, did her best to emulate her mother. Although in robustly good health, she took to her bed and spent the afternoon imagining one malady after another, each one miraculously disappearing as soon as her attending nursemaids managed to round up the appropriate potions, ointments, tonics, and sweets. Her younger sister, ten-year-old Drypetis, didn’t waste any time on hypochondria, proceeding directly to hysteria. She laughed uncontrollably one second and then burst into tears the next. Her attending nursemaids simply borrowed the potions, ointments, tonics, and sweets no longer needed by Little Stateira, which seemed to do the trick, at least until the next outburst. Ochos, the youngest of the three at eight years of age, contented himself by running around his mother’s tent complex with his little sword, attacking the servants, trying to cut off their hair, slash their clothes, and gouge out their eyes. When one of the eunuchs took umbrage at the young prince’s attempted assault and confiscated his sword, Ochos sprinted to his mother’s room, demanding that the offender be executed forthwith. He might have gotten his wish, too, but fortunately for the eunuch, Ochos’s mother was lying flat on her stomach at that moment, getting her rear end massaged, and didn’t wish to be disturbed by her unmanageable son.
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