Alexander the King

by Peter Messmore

  Tension in the group was palpable but Nabarzanes continued. “Only Bessus can save Persia. Look at Darius! He is completely demoralized and can only flee.”

  Darius could take no more. With all of the strength that he could gather, he drew his royal scimitar and launched a vicious attack at Nabarzanes. “You traitorous bastard,” he yelled.

  At the last possible moment, men from the opposing groups surrounded the king and stopped the assault. The fury that had provoked the attack subsided and superficial calm returned.

  A half day later, the Persians finally agreed that Darius should still have their support, at least for now. Leaders and men from the opposing camps swore allegiance to Great King Darius, avoiding a fatal split in their forces.

  Their desperate, fragile agreement did not last long.

  ≈

  Alexander and sixty of his finest horsemen had been riding at a furious pace in pursuit of Darius for days. Only the fittest of his men, like Alexander himself, would have been able to survive the relentless pursuit. Because of the oppressive heat, they rode only during the nighttime and early morning hours. What little sleep they got was in any shaded area they could find to protect them from the enervating heat of the eastern Iranian summer.

  At last, on a sloping mountainside ten stadia from his riders, Alexander’s keen eyes spotted a small covered wagon and a few hundred Persian soldiers. “It’s them,” he said. “Our spies were right. Let’s get them!”

  ≈

  Bessus and Nabarzanes saw Alexander approaching and made a quick decision. Darius had been their chained-up prisoner for the last several days, after they had broken the agreement to remain loyal to the Great King.

  “Come with us, Darius!” Bessus shouted. “I’ll unlock your chains and we can begin again in Bactria.”

  Darius looked up and said nothing. His eyes were vacant and his movements were lethargic.

  “Speak, you miserable wretch,” Bessus yelled contemptuously. “Either come with us or die here. Decide now!”

  The specter that was former Great King Darius finally uttered his last words. “It’s over; I’ll no longer run like a rat. I choose to die here with dignity, at the hands of Persia’s new conqueror. You two traitors continue alone. Alexander will soon run you down.”

  Bessus was furious and done with words. He leaped off his horse, grabbed a spear, and stabbed Darius repeatedly in the chest. Quickly, Nabarzanes joined in the bloody assault. Each understood that Darius could not fall into Alexander’s hands. The Macedonian would then use him to legitimize his claim as Persia’s new Great King.

  Both men and their ragged troops then split up and fled the fast approaching Alexander by different routes. Each knew that Darius had been right in one thing: their lives were now at stake.

  ≈

  “I’ve found him,” Polystratus yelled to Alexander. The king had paused astride his horse high on a mountain path above him. The grizzled soldier waved his arms until Alexander saw him, and then returned to the crude wagon where Darius lay nearly dead.

  The Great King, still bound in chains, had two broken spears protruding from his blood-soaked chest. A starving, mongrel dog was his only companion. Polystratus lifted Darius’ head and listened for any final words. He heard only a death rattle from Persia’s last Great King and watched as Darius’ soul departed to join his ancient god, Ahura Mazda.

  Alexander made his way down to the wagon then brought his horse to a halt. Is this how kings end their days?, he thought as he leaped off his mount. He approached the wagon and saw Darius’ dead body sprawled on the wagon’s floor. “Great Zeus-Ammon. This is an abomination!”

  Alexander removed his royal cloak and placed it over the top part of Darius’ body. The sixteen-pointed star of Macedon covered the great king’s head. Below it, Darius’ last blood slowly started to stain the star’s points. The symbolism of the moment was not lost on Alexander.

  “His own men did this,” Alexander said angrily. “I’ll have their heads on poles for this.” He turned to the soldier who had found Darius and gave him an order. “Take his body to our encampment. I want him returned to Persepolis in stately procession. He will be buried with his ancestors, in the tomb he was preparing before our invasion. I hope that someone does as much for me when it is time.”

  He stopped his morose lamentation, leaped on his horse, and gave a new command. “Come on, men. I want Bessus. We can’t give up now and allow him to raise another army to fight us again. Another chase like the last one will eliminate their leadership threat forever.”

  Alexander saw his exhausted men roll their eyes but knew that they would follow him. They always had.

  However, Bessus’ lead was too great and the mountain passes were hopelessly complex. Alexander had no idea where to continue the pursuit. Angry but resigned, he gave up the chase and returned to a miserable village called Hecatompylus. Even he needed rest and time to consider what had happened.

  He had been so close to ending it all in that dusty mountain valley where Darius had been murdered. Now, more decisive battles lay ahead. The gods had decreed that life for him.

  ≈

  Hephaestion was the first to greet Alexander as the exhausted king returned to his army’s main camp, now established in Zadracarta. “Are you ill, Alexander?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.

  Alexander, dirty, unshaven, and worn out from the breakneck chase of Darius, answered his friend. “I’m heartsick. Not only did I fail to get Darius alive, it repulsed me to find him murdered by his own men. His body is back there in a wagon. Go look at it. I don’t ever want to be seen that way.”

  Before viewing Darius’ corpse, Hephaestion told Alexander of a group of senior Persian officials who had surrendered days before. “Old Artabazus is with them,” he added.

  “He still lives?” Alexander asked. “I knew he was tough when I first met him years ago. Barsine will be pleased to see her father again. Treat him well; I may need him in the future.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Hephaestion said as he left to examine Darius’ body.

  Alexander’s inner circle of young commanders approached their king and greeted him warmly. After fawning congratulations and male boasting of having finally subdued Darius, Ptolemy told Alexander of another Persian surrender.

  “Nabarzanes came into camp this morning,” he announced. “His surrender is unconditional. He brought great riches and gifts with him. He wants to present them personally when you are ready.”

  “First, I’ll bathe and rest,” Alexander said wearily. “Order slaves to fill Darius’ tub with the hottest water. Then, I must sleep. I’ll see Nabarzanes tomorrow.”

  “It will be done,” the king’s half-brother answered as Alexander turned and went to his private tent.

  Ptolemy failed to tell his king that one of Nabarzanes’ gifts was human. His name was Bagoas. The beautiful boy was a eunuch and he had been a lover of Great King Darius. Ptolemy was not the only one of Alexander’s inner circle that was concerned with this potential temptation of their king. Every officer knew that Hephaestion would be devastated if Alexander found the youth appealing. However, Ptolemy had learned long ago that crises presented opportunities. The coming days would be interesting.

  ≈

  At midday the following day, Alexander emerged from a night and morning of needed sleep. For once, his sleep had been natural, without any need for the stupefying effect of strong, uncut Macedonian wine. Waiting for the king were his top commanders, Aristander, Callisthenes, and Nabarzanes. The beautiful eunuch, Bagoas, stood behind Nabarzanes, out of sight of Persia’s new supreme ruler.

  Alexander smiled as he walked into the middle of the group. For the first time, he was no longer dressed as a Macedonian-Greek but as a Mede. Covering his freshly scrubbed and rested body were mostly Persian clothes. The king’s legs were covered to the ankle with silken, multicolored trousers. His robe was white with Persian purple on its edges. On his head, was the royal crown of Darius,
resplendent in blue and white. His shoes were no longer the rough leather of a Macedonian battle commander but the elegant, bejeweled slippers of his defeated, former enemy. Four of his ten fingers had large, jeweled rings on them. Each had stones that were found only in the orient. His transformation presented a stunning change to everyone waiting. Alexander knew that his appearance had the effect that he wanted as he approached Nabarzanes.

  “Darius is dead,” he said to Nabarzanes through a translator. “I am Persia’s new Great King. Do you acknowledge me?”

  Nabarzanes kneeled, prostrated himself in the loose dirt before Alexander, and gave the expected proskynesis. Then, from his lowly, horizontal position, he spoke. “You have won Persia by the spear, Alexander. I recognize you as Persia’s Great King.”

  “Get up, Nabarzanes,” Alexander commanded. “For this recognition, I give you your life. It remains to be seen what I will do with you.”

  Nabarzanes rose, dusted off his clothes, and began his presentation of gifts to Alexander. First, was the lovely eunuch Bagoas.

  “His name is Bagoas. Look at his skin. No woman in Persia has such a flawless complexion. If he appeals to you, he is yours.”

  Alexander was taken immediately by the young boy’s remarkable beauty and showed it. He walked over to him and stroked his luxuriant hair and smooth face. “Your skin is smoother than Hephaestion’s,” he said ominously. “I’m pleased with this gift, Nabarzanes. The boy alone will ensure a hopeful future for you.”

  Nabarzanes started to present his remaining gifts but was stopped by Alexander. “Later,” the king said.

  With that curt remark, he took Bagoas’ hand and walked him to his private tent. No one would see the new Great King of Persia for the rest of that day and evening.

  ≈

  That evening, accounts of the day’s events spread through the Macedonian camp like dust from an Afghan sandstorm. Alexander’s altered appearance was ridiculed first. Many asked if they had risked their lives for four years so that he could give up his Macedonian identity. Then there was the eunuch. Did it mean that Hephaestion was out and Alexander’s oriental conversion had been so complete that even his sexual preferences had turned Persian? Some mid-level officers even asked if they would now have to perform proskynesis every time they wanted an audience with Alexander.

  At the same time, over a hundred soldiers, mostly Parmenio supporters, started to pack wagons for the 33,000 stadia trip back to Macedonia. In their minds, the reason they had started the invasion had been achieved. Many had become affluent, compared to their neighbors at home. Philip and Alexander’s great cause was behind them. Alexander could stay in Persia and play oriental despot if he liked.

  These events were only a few of the many storm clouds that were gathering in eastern Iran, so far from Greece and Macedonia.

  CHAPTER 15

  PARMENIO

  “We’ll rest here on the shores of Lake Seistan,” Alexander said. “The new army needs orientation before we continue. I want each commander to teach the new command structure to the mercenaries and Macedonians who have signed on again. Craterus, you will now be chief of staff in matters that deal with our Macedonian and Greek troops. Hephaestion, you will be chief of staff in dealing with Persians and other conquered groups.”

  Gathered with the king in Drangiana were Craterus, Hephaestion, Erigyius, Perdiccas, Coenus, and Leonnatus. Important decisions were being made, decisions that would determine the course of the rest of their lives.

  Conspicuously absent from the gathering was Philotas, Parmenio’s remaining son. The brash and brilliant cavalry commander had just returned from his brother Nicanor’s funeral. The meeting would determine his fate.

  Alexander continued. “No one outside this group must know what I am going to tell you now. This conquering way of life that we have been living for the last four years will become permanent. I will never return to Macedonia. Neither will I rest until the entire world is under my domination. Each of you will become rich and powerful. Never forget who your king is as we project our might.”

  Craterus reacted first. “We feel the same as you, Alexander. That’s why you selected us. If you ever doubt anyone’s allegiance to you and your mission, eliminate him. I think I speak for everyone here.”

  The other men concurred. Each was smugly pleased that he would become one of the rulers of the greatest empire the world had ever known. Their youthful confidence and arrogance were just what Alexander needed as his quest for glory continued.

  “I’ve just gotten wind of a plot among the new royal pages,” Alexander said, abruptly changing the subject. “It may involve Philotas.” Hephaestion, who had informed Alexander of a possible murder plot against him, spoke up. “One of the pages, Cebalinus, was asked to join the pages’ conspiracy but he refused. As he should have, he reported to Philotas that the conspirators’ intentions were to assassinate Alexander in three days. But Philotas told no one about it.”

  Alexander used silence to punctuate Hephaestion’s report. Then he told the group that he had confronted Philotas with the matter that morning. “He claims that it’s just a petty squabble between jilted male lovers. I let him leave, allowing him to think that I had accepted his explanation. I haven’t.”

  “I spoke with Cebalinus and his brother after Philotas and I talked. He repeated his story. I think both men are credible. In my bones, I feel that there is a conspiracy afoot. Philip used to say that one or both of your ears would ring when a plot develops. Both of mine haven’t stopped for a week. Give me advice on what I should do.”

  “Cebalinus named Dymnus as one of the plot leaders,” Hephaestion said. “When I went to arrest him, he fell on his sword. He died before we could extract any more information. He wouldn’t have killed himself unless there is something to this.”

  Craterus had heard enough and was ready to pronounce Philotas’ death sentence. “Both Philotas and Parmenio must be eliminated, now!” he said. “They may have failed in this plot, but you will never be safe with them around, Alexander. Do you want me to do it?”

  Alexander absorbed pensively what his friend said. He knew he was right, but much was at stake. “The army’s old guard supports both Parmenio and Philotas,” he said. “If this is done too quickly, without evidence, there will be an insurrection. At best, it would split our army into two opposing groups. We would no longer be an effective fighting force.”

  Coenus, Parmenio’s son-in-law, could see where events were moving. Unless he said something, immediately, he might be implicated in the plot by his marriage relationship. “Arrest Philotas and let us torture him. If there is a plot against you, Alexander, we can extract the information. Then you can have a trial and charge the conspirators with high treason. It will send a powerful message.”

  Everyone agreed with Coenus.

  Alexander stood, signaling that the meeting was nearly over. “Craterus and Hephaestion stay; the rest of you join your men. Speak to no one about this. I’ll invite Philotas to a banquet tonight. It may lull him into thinking that all is well. He is always the first one to get drunk at banquets and his defenses will be down. When he returns to his quarters, I’ll have him arrested. The three of us will work out the details.”

  ≈

  Never, since Alexander had become king and during his long march of conquest into Persia’s empire, had such a scene as this occurred. Gathered in parade formation were ten thousand Macedonian troops. Under ancient Macedonian law, they were the only ones who could hear evidence of high treason and pass final judgment on someone accused of this most serious of crimes. Four battalions of 2,500 men each formed a human square with a large opening in the middle. The king’s parade observation tent had been set up in the gathering’s center. Its sides had been removed so that everyone could see the officers inside.

  Alexander deliberately kept the assemblage waiting and his men were starting to grumble. In the cool, autumn morning air, a light rain started to fall and the soldiers’ moods became as c
old as their damp uniforms. “Let’s get this mess over,” one of them yelled. However, no one appeared in the tent.

  Finally, Alexander walked through the ranks and mounted a small dais set up inside the tent. He was dressed in a common Macedonian tunic, without any indication of his rank. His role was now that of the prosecutor. He slowly rotated his body looking into the eyes of his fellow fighters, commanding silence with the move. Everything was ready for the trial.

  “A traitorous conspiracy has been discovered in our midst,” he began speaking in the rough, vulgar speech pattern that was the Macedonian patois. “This trial will prove that it started with General Parmenio himself. It soon involved his son, Philotas, and spread like a Persian venereal disease to my newest pages. I was to be assassinated today.”

  The formations of Macedonian men exuded a collective gasp as Alexander named Parmenio and then they grew silent. The old man was venerated by most of them; they could not believe what they were hearing. These were serious charges, and the king had better have compelling evidence.

  Alexander then motioned for Dymnus’ body to be brought before the group. The conspirator’s corpse was placed in the mud, directly before the king, as he continued reciting the charges. “Dymnus fell on his sword when confronted with his treason,” Alexander continued. “But there are others who warned of this plot.

  “Bring in Cebalinus and his brother,” the king commanded.

  Quickly, Alexander’s bodyguards rushed the brothers before the king. They stood waiting beside Dymnus’ body as the rain became more intense. Both had been told what their testimony must be.

  “Tell these Macedonians how you tried to warn Philotas of the developing plot against me, Cebalinus. Take as long as you like,” Alexander said, standing in his dry tent.

  Cebalinus wiped cold rain off his face and started his statement. “A group of the new pages were involved in this plot. My brother was in love with the dead man you see here. Dymnus invited him to join the plot against Alexander. But he refused and told me. He will explain these events in his own words after my testimony.”