“King Alexander,” greeted Coenus, riding up beside him.
“Just the man I was looking for,” welcomed Alex.
“Not to doubt your wisdom, King Alexander,” Coenus said, “but I do not know how useful these archers will be against such mighty beasts.”
“Worry not, my old friend,” Alex assured. “For this is but the first challenge you and your men must overcome in the day ahead.”
Noting the tightly packed pikemen formation, Alex ordered, “Open up your men’s ranks. They’re too easy a prey so close together for those war elephants.”
“What about our phalanx formation?” asked Coenus with concern.
Alex’s general had a valid point. The phalanx had essentially been the backbone of any Macedonian attack. Both here in Asia and certainly back on their home continent, it had proved a most successful battle tool to both Alexander and his father Philip in all previous military conflicts.
“The phalanx is certainly an impenetrable wall in man to man combat,” responded Alex, “but it will prove suicidal if used against a charging elephant.”
Without further questioning, Coenus commanded his horn bearers to blow the break ranks signal to his men. As the horn sounded the three-note command, the pikemen spread themselves apart. Though still battle ready, they now had room to accommodate any elephant that should cross their path.
Believing the sound of the horns heralded the onset of the Macedonian offensive, Darius reflexively ordered the war elephants to begin their charge. With an additional blare of horns from across the river, these mighty beasts began their march.
Because of the mild grade of the three-foot decent into the river, the elephant’s attack was slow at first.
The archers atop the back of the elephants began to make their presence known by shooting barrage after barrage of arrows into the ranks of pikemen soldiers.
One arrow passed by Alex’s ear. He could hear the wisp it made as it skimmed past his head.
The pikemen took shelter behind their shields, protecting themselves from the attack.
With the Macedonians now on the defensive, the mighty elephants lumbered their way down and into the Pinarus River. Slowly, they walked through the shallow river while the mounted archers continued to rain projectiles upon the pikemen soldiers.
Amidst the chaos Alex remained calm. Looking directly at the oncoming elephants, he shouted to Arrianos, “Now! Now!”
Without hesitation Arrianos and his mounted cavalry rode through the scattered pikemen formation to the front of the Macedonian line. Their position was precarious; their time was short. Without the aid of a shield to defend themselves, they were at their most vulnerable.
Missing the target meant probable death and possible defeat for the entire army. It was one thing to be accurate during practice, but as they each knew, it would be completely different when out in the open and under fire.
Each of the Macedonian mounted archers took aim at the mahouts. As the elephants drew closer they began to open fire upon their unsuspecting targets.
One by one the mahouts fell dead into the Pinarus, riddled with arrows. The attack was both quick and efficient.
Just as Alex predicted, without proper guidance the elephants lost control. Most went back to the Persian side of the river and wandered aimlessly among the soldiers, wreaking havoc with every footfall.
Many of the Persians tried protecting themselves by jabbing the animals with their spears, but their feeble attacks simply antagonized the elephants into a rage that only worsened the situation. What at first seemed a brilliant idea by King Darius proved to be a deadly mistake as many of his finest soldiers were trampled by his own elephants.
Seeing the carnage on the other side of the river, Alex frantically rode down the line yelling, “Let the elephants pass freely. Hold all arms at your side.” Repeating himself ad nauseam he successfully made his new orders known to his men along the front.
When the remaining few elephants marched haphazardly across the river and into the ranks of pikemen, the Macedonians provided them with ample room to pass. Without provocation these animals proved to be gentle beasts.
Unlike the peaceful elephants, the archers atop their backs continued volleying arrows into the soldiers underneath them. Most of their shots missed, but a few managed to inflict some damage to the Macedonians in their line of fire. Since only a few elephants managed to cross the river, this attack proved relatively ineffective.
“Take aim!” Alex shouted to the battalions of unmounted archers standing beside him. “Fire!”
Reacting instantly to their king’s command, the archers quickly disposed of the men atop the elephants’ backs. The wicker baskets they rode in provided little protection from the Macedonian counterattack.
Not known for their love of crowds, the elephants on both sides of the river soon trudged away from the front lines. Macedonian and Persians alike were equally pleased to see their unceremonious departure.
Now is the time to take advantage of the situation, Alex thought to himself while looking at the few hundred trampled and impaled men across the river.
Indeed Alex had astutely assessed the situation. The Persians appeared distracted. With their first attack failing in a most miserable fashion, their morale, for the moment, was at its lowest.
Alex rode over to his trusted general, Coenus, and shouted, “Pikemen forward! Go!”
Alex was gambling everything on an all-out assault on the Persian army. With such a numerical disadvantage and no reserves in the rear, it was a risky wager even under the best of circumstances.
Horns began to blare throughout the Macedonian line, signaling to all that this was no drill. The battle they sought for so many generations was now upon them.
The long line of dispersed pikemen instantly came together into a mighty phalanx formation. Almost as far as the eye could see, their long pikes were aligned in rows, creating what appeared to be an endless fence of death. Like an ancient tank, they were ready to mow down any man who stood in front of them.
Alex took Bucephalus by the reigns and rode down the line of pikemen soldiers.
“Do not forget how the Persians burned Athens,” he reminded them. “Let’s defeat them again as we did at Granicus!”
Unlike the cheers that accompanied his last excursion, Alex this time was met with the war cries of his men. “Ahi-ahi-ahi!” they yelled, hoping to instill fear into the souls of their enemy.
“Go!” Alex yelled upon reaching his army’s left flank. “All forward!”
Before Alex rode on, a few blue flashes of light began to cross his vision, and the battle in front of him grew momentarily blurry.
Not now.
Turning to his cavalry, Parmenio ordered, “You heard King Alexander! Don’t let the pikemen have all the fun. Attack!”
With their lances at their sides, Parmenio and his men charged directly into the Pinarus. As they crossed the river, Craterus and his heavily armed infantry followed suit. Connecting the faster moving cavalry to their left with the slower moving pikemen to their right did not prove easy. Making a diagonal between the two, however, they were able to maintain the integrity of the line.
Unlike the horses, which had no difficulty traversing the river, the pikemen’s journey proved much more complicated. The strength of the phalanx resided in its ability to stay in perfect alignment during an assault. Any disturbance in the tight formation would open up gaps that could be taken advantage of by the enemy.
The slightly uneven terrain under the water proved just enough to cause such a problem. What was so beautifully aligned before entering the river became haphazard in places, creating weak points along the line and making them vulnerable to attack.
Alex returned to the far right wing of the Macedonian formation, where he joined Philotas along with the Companions and the remaining cavalry battalions.
“Now?” asked Philotas eagerly.
“Not yet,” Alex responded. “Keep your position.”
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br /> Alex knew he had only one chance and had to wait for the precise moment to deploy his remaining cavalry. If the pikemen were the heart of the assault, these mounted soldiers were its soul. Their one shot at victory rested with these men.
A few more blue streaks of light blurred his vision. This time the scene in front of him began to fade away and statues suddenly started to appear.
Alex shook his head, and the battle unfolding in front of him once again appeared vividly. He knew it would only be a matter of time now before he could no longer deter his mind from venturing back into the computer system.
Viewing the battle from a far right position of his line, Alex was now able to scrutinize the entire theater of war. His eyes did not have to peer too far down the line to see trouble arising.
Noting the pikemen having difficulty keeping their phalanx formation, Alex thought, Firm up those lines! hoping Coenus would be yelling the same to his men.
Coenus indeed saw the breakdown. Unfortunately, there was no time to correct it. The soldiers in the back of the phalanx continued to push the formation forward, making corrections almost impossible. Plus, when the pikemen encountered the angled slopes of the adjacent riverbed, it made their job of staying in position even more difficult.
The Persians held their ground as the Macedonians approached. Archers from behind the front line used the opportunity to send multiple volleys of arrows into the ranks of Alex’s soldiers, disrupting their already collapsing phalanx formation.
“Get back into line! Get back into line!” Coenus ordered his men at the top of his lungs, growing hoarse in the process.
The opportunity to regroup had already been lost. Horns blared down their opponent’s line, signaling to all that the counterattack had begun. As if the floodgates of a dam suddenly had been opened, the Persian infantry en mass charged the Macedonian front line, creating a great roar when the two armies finally collided. Bloodshed from the confrontation turned the once green shores of the Pinarus red as soldiers from both sides fell to the ground in a growing heap of carnage.
In those places where the Macedonian phalanx held formation it proved an almost unbeatable force. Their longer pikes gave them a clear advantage over the Persian infantry, who confronted them with much shorter spears. Like an ancient tank, the phalanx formation decimated all in its path.
Unfortunately for the Macedonians, places along the front line where the phalanx formation had faltered were quickly being overrun by floods of oncoming Persian infantry. Unable to maintain the proper configuration, the Macedonians’ pikes were rendered useless in such close-quarter combat. Relying solely on their swords for protection, these pikemen were forced to fight on Persian terms rather than their own.
No place did the phalanx break down more than in the direct center of the line. Astute to the situation, the Persian King Darius began deploying increasingly large numbers of his infantry there in hopes of creating a breach.
The pikemen began to grow exhausted from constant fighting. Fresh Persian reinforcements painstakingly wore down their will until the unthinkable occurred.
The great Macedonian offensive had come to a standstill. No longer could they maintain their forward momentum, and as fatigue began to take over, they were slowly beaten backwards toward the Pinarus River.
Parmenio along with his cavalry and the adjacent infantry faired no better along the left flank. Confronted by 30,000 cavalrymen and the same amount of infantry, they were at an overwhelming disadvantage. No matter how ruthless they fought or how many men they killed, there was always a new surge of Persian soldiers ready to continue the battle.
“I’d rather die in battle than wither away as an old man!” Parmenio shouted, trying to inspire his men.
Like the pikemen, their lances too were ineffective in these tight quarters. Also resorting to his sword, Parmenio slashed at the nearest Persian, slicing him directly in the face. Blood gushed from the gaping wound as the man fell off his horse and was trampled to death on the ground below.
Inspired by Parmenio’s bravery, his men fought on with even greater vigor. But as the battle continued, they began to succumb to the vast number of Persian cavalry and infantry. With fresh enemy reinforcements being sent in by the minute, the men’s stamina was reaching its limit. Like the pikemen to their right, the soldiers along the left flank soon found themselves being pushed backward into the Pinarus.
“Keep going!” Parmenio yelled. “We have not even begun to fight!”
Despite the general’s brave words, he knew the battle had turned sour for the Macedonians. With no reserves and his men exhausted, he realized it would not be long before the battle was lost.
While looking down the line at his fellow soldiers being beaten back into the river, he had only one thing to ask himself, “Where is Alexander?”
As Alex rode Bucephalus behind his men along the right flank, more blue streaks flew by his eyes. With each stride of his mighty horse, the streaks became more intense until the battle before him suddenly disappeared.
To his dismay, Alex again found himself back in the temple’s courtyard at Didyma.
“No,” Alex lamented aloud. “Not now!”
He attempted to shake his head and imagine himself back on his horse. It was no use; his mind was no longer in the battle.
I’ve got to figure out this riddle, and fast! There’s absolutely no time to waste.
Two opposites, he contemplated, inspecting each of the statues’ faces once again. He briskly walked by them all while bearing in mind numerous possibilities. However, each time he considered a new combination, he kept perseverating on Albert Rosenberg. It was as if Alex knew that this man somehow was not only the creator of this riddle, but also its answer.
What is it about Albert?
Albert was the first clone created by The New Reality from a genetic combination of his grandfather and Julius Caesar.
That has to be it!
The contrast between the two would be the most obvious choice. His grandfather was the most gentle, church-going, loving person he’d ever known. Julius Caesar, on the other hand, sought out war and destruction for personal glory and eventually dissolved the Roman republic in his pursuit of ultimate power.
Racing up to the statues of both his grandfather and Julius Caesar, he maneuvered them one-by-one into position on top of the vacant pedestals. Upon placing them both in position, the long handles and door of the small temple began to shine.
Got it!
Alex ran over to the door and pulled them open by the handles. They glided effortlessly.
Inside, a dazzling fountain spewed glittering golden water; standing next to it was another statue of a magnificently carved Apollo draped heroically in a sheet and holding a rod encircled by two serpents.
Alex could almost feel the warmth of the fountain radiating on his face. It was a serene sight that left him feeling totally at ease. It was as if for that moment he forgot about the battle with the Persians, Myra Keres, and The New Reality.
From his recollection of Didyma, Alex remembered that this small temple was the room where the oracles would predict the future while the priests interpreted their encrypted message. Alex also realized this fountain represented something else entirely at the moment—something far more pressing.
He knew that he had found the lock.
Alex slowly walked over to the fountain, his heart racing in anticipation. The closer he approached, the warmer his body felt. Almost instinctively, he held out his hand and placed it directly into the fountain.
For that brief second, he was completely at one with the entire New Reality computer system. Whereas before small tidbits of information would streak by his consciousness, everything about The New Reality and their New World Order now flooded his mind.
Alex had opened the lock. Now all Jules had to do was activate the key.
Jules Windsor?
Who is Jules Windsor? Alex thought, in that brief instance.
It was as if he had
known the entire time but was too blind to see the truth. His similarity with Albert Rosenberg suddenly became clear. The reason for the man’s cunning, intellect, and overall voracity was now painfully obvious.
Unlike Albert Rosenberg whose DNA originated from both his grandfather and Julius Caesar, Jules’ DNA was an exact replica of only Julius Caesar. Jules was a clone just like Alex. However, unlike Albert Rosenberg whose DNA was tempered with the kindness, compassion, and good spirit of his grandfather, Jules’ DNA was pure Julius Caesar. There was no buffer.
Jules Windsor is Julius Caesar!
The thought hung in his mind, overwhelming all the other information filling his cerebral cortex.
I’ve got to close the lock and get out of here!
Alex attempted to pull his hand out of the fountain, but in the process, a jolt of electricity shot up his arm. The pain seared throughout his body, and he closed his eyes in agony.
Just have to remove my hand!
As he finally opened his eyes, the fountain was gone along with statue of Apollo. Instead of still being at the temple, Alex now realized that he was back on his mighty steed Bucephalus galloping down the long ranks of Macedonian soldiers. Time was fluid between the computer system and the virtual world; it was as if Alex’s mental excursion had taken less than a minute to complete.
I’ve got to deactivate the lock! Alex thought.
While still riding, he attempted to again form a mental link with the central computer system. However, it seemed as if the download of information had strained his mind, making the connection impossible.
As Alex rode, he looked for the flashing blue light and prayed for it to once again to appear. But his vision remained clear and this virtual world persisted without disturbance.
What have I done? he lamented.
The Hidden Reality (Alex Pella, #2) Page 24
