‘Yes; just make sure you don’t enjoy it too much so that it clouds your judgement as it obviously did. Now be off with you and get some sleep. We’re staying here for the day; make and mend whilst the scouts go out before we head on into Kappadokia.’
Demetrios managed a wan smile and rubbed a hand through the dark mane that was his hair. ‘I will.’ He turned to go.
‘And get a slave to clean the blood off your uniform whilst you do; I like my officers to look the part and not like Kappadokian cutthroats.’
‘Do you think that he’ll take the lesson to heart?’ Philotas asked, coming into the tent once Demetrios had left.
‘I pray to Ares he has.’ Antigonos poured himself some wine, picked up the water-pitcher but, thinking the better of it, downed his cup neat. ‘The trouble is that Alexander and his generation have made every high-born youth believe that leading men in battle is a gods’-given ability to all Macedonian aristocracy and so therefore they have nothing to learn from the likes of you and me. And, let’s face it, the experience lies with us and the luck lies with the younger generation; I could beat any one of those pups in the field, with the exception of Alexander himself.’ He cocked his head. ‘And, perhaps, Krateros; but he’s more of our age.’
‘Well, we’ll never be able to test that assertion.’
‘Thank the gods that’s the truth of it.’ Antigonos sat back down at his campaign desk and indicated for Philotas to take a place opposite him. ‘My breakfast should be appearing soon; stay and join me.’
Philotas pulled up the three-legged stool vacated by Demetrios, smiling. ‘Common soldiers’ rations no doubt.’
‘What’s good enough for my men is good enough for me.’ Antigonos poured them both more wine. ‘Although I admit to making it far more palatable by substituting the muck the men get with a decent vintage from my estates.’ He raised his cup and downed it in one. ‘The resinated Cyclops is one of the kinder names I’ve heard the men call me.’
Philotas drained his wine and slammed the cup on the table with a satisfied burp. ‘There are a lot worse than that, I can tell you, old friend; and I heard most of them on the forced-march in the last two days.’
Antigonos barked a laugh. ‘They can call me what they will as long as they follow me at the speed I need to travel. I was pleased with them yesterday; had we arrived an hour later Ariarathes would have been across and could’ve held the bridge against us. I may not have got him, but at least I can tell Alexander that I destroyed his army and have him on the run. Tomorrow, now that Demetrios has finally returned, we’ll go into Kappadokia and finish the job. Now that Alexander’s back, with luck he’ll allow me to go on into Armenia and we can have some fun there for a couple of seasons. What would you say to that, eh?’
Philotas helped himself to more wine. ‘I would say that, before we go, let’s do some research to find out whether the women there are worthwhile; I’ve had enough of the rough vixens they seem to use for breeding in these parts.’
‘As you know, old friend, I never go anywhere unscouted.’
Philotas choked on his wine; a trickle came out of his nostrils. ‘That hurt,’ he said through his mirth, putting down his cup and wiping his face. ‘And there was me thinking that you’ve sent scouts across the river into Kappadokia to make sure that Ariarathes hasn’t got anything nasty waiting for us and all the time it was solely to check on the quality of his harem.’
‘For my men, naturally, not for myself.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Stratonice would never allow it.’
Their laughter was curtailed by a couple of slaves bringing in a steaming pot of barley stew with herbs and some gristle attempting to pass for meat along with a round, flat loaf of bread. Antigonos indicated that they should put it down and leave.
‘But seriously,’ Antigonos said once they both had a full bowl before them, ‘Do you really think Alexander will turn his eyes to the west now that he’s back?’
Philotas considered the question, chewing on a hunk of bread soaked in gravy. ‘His ambition is big enough; and I hear that Krateros was ordered to take the coastal road home to Macedon so that he could command the port cities to start amassing ships.’
‘Yes, I heard that too.’
‘But why go west before we’re finished here?’
Antigonos dunked some bread into his stew. ‘Why does Alexander do anything? For his own glory and no other reason. He doesn’t think Armenia is worthy of him, which is why I’m hoping that he’ll leave it to me. No, I really do believe that he’s amassing a fleet to take him to the Greek cities of Southern Italia and Sicilia. Perhaps, even, he’s got his eyes on Carthage.’
‘Carthage? But that’s leagues away; how would he maintain supply lines?’
‘The same way he did it when he was out in the east—’
‘Father!’
Antigonos looked up to see Demetrios coming into the tent. ‘What is it? Have you changed your mind and decided to take sewing lessons from your mother?’
Demetrios’ expression was one of shock. ‘Alexander’s dead, Father, three days ago. There’s a messenger outside come by relay from Babylon.’
Antigonos shared a look of complete shock with Philotas. ‘Dead? That can’t be. You had better call the man in, Demetrios.’
‘Of a fever,’ the messenger said in response to Antigonos’ first question; dusty from the road, he had gulped down the cup of well-watered wine he had been offered.
‘And whom did he name as his heir?’
‘There was a rumour going around that all he said was: “To the strongest”. When Perdikkas sent us messengers out to all over the empire it seemed to me that all his companions were arguing about what Alexander had really meant.’
A wearied smile cracked on Antigonos’ weathered face. ‘I’m sure they were. Perdikkas sent you, you said?’
‘Yes, it seemed to be him who had taken the lead; Alexander had given him his ring as he said “to the strongest”.’
‘But didn’t name anyone.’ With three words the young bastard has just unleashed years of civil war and I’ll wager he did it on purpose so that none will outshine him. I’d best be making plans. ‘Is that all you know?’
‘Yes, sir; other than he really is dead, I saw the body with my own eyes. Perdikkas allowed all of us going out to pay our respects first.’
‘A very noble sentiment,’ Antigonos said, getting to his feet, ‘at least he’s behaving as a Macedonian should.’ He opened a chest on the floor next to his desk, took out a small purse and tossed it to the messenger. ‘I’ll have letters for you to take back, stay with my army until I call for you.’
‘Thank you, sir, I will,’ the man replied, turning to go whilst weighing the purse in his hand and liking the result.
‘What does this mean, Father?’ Demetrios asked.
‘This means, my boy, that we’re going to have to decide whose side we’re on. Either we back whoever comes out on top in Babylon; that could be either Perdikkas, Ptolemy or Leonnatus, or, maybe, two of them scrapping for the empire. Or we support whoever rules in Macedon which, at the moment, is Antipatros but if Alexander’s orders are obeyed, should be Krateros; but either way both of them will believe that as regent, named by Alexander, it should be them who take power and, never forget, there is still a formidable army in Macedon. And we also mustn’t forget the dark plots of that witch, Olympias; she’ll have spread pain and hatred before this has played out because she’ll be wanting her blood on the throne.’ He looked to Philotas. ‘Perhaps my assertion will be tested after all.’
‘It won’t ever come to that; there’ll be a bit of posturing and then an agreement will be reached as to who holds what. We won’t risk the empire by turning on one another.’
Antigonos grunted. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. What would you do in my situation in order to secure my position?’
‘Me? Well, firstly I wouldn’t go to Kappadokia tomorrow; I’d head back to Celaenae and start concentr
ating my troops ready to support the first man who makes it worth your while.’
‘That is sage counsel, my friend; best not to waste time chasing rebels around the country when there may be profits to be made elsewhere.’
‘Let me go to Kappadokia, Father,’ Demetrios urged, but one look from Antigonos’ eye made him think better of arguing.
‘We go back west and wait to see what happens in the first month or so.’ He gave a shrewd look to his son. ‘Who knows, Demetrios, positioned where we are, right in the middle of things, we could come out of this very well; I can foresee a lot of people wanting us as their friends.’
EUMENES, THE SLY
AND HOW IS it that I’m not surprised and yet you are, Perdikkas, even though I warned you yesterday? Eumenes was enjoying the look on Perdikkas’ face as Meleagros paraded a limping fool, dressed in a purple tunic and cloak and wearing a kingly diadem upon his head. Why do Macedonians find it so hard to believe anything that they find unpalatable until they see it with their own eyes? ‘What did I tell you?’
Perdikkas looked down at him from the rostra set at the centre of the courtyard, genuine shock in his eyes, which was far better, Eumenes allowed, than the supercilious expression he normally reserved for his Greek interlocutors. ‘But he swore an oath; he was honour-bound to persuade the infantry to forget this madness of having an idiot for a king, not encourage them.’
‘Whatever he was meant to do is irrelevant; the fact is that he’s standing there in front of the whole army with Arrhidaeus and calling him King Philip, the third of that name. You have to react to the situation as you see it now and not as you would like it to be.’
The sun had risen over the immensity of the palace complex courtyard as the army had assembled in the hour after dawn. Both infantry and cavalry paraded together; the infantry in speira blocks of two hundred and fifty-six men taking up almost half the area and the cavalry lining the perimeter of the rest of the courtyard – but, taking no chances, Perdikkas had ordered them to be mounted. It was not until the sacrifices had been made and Perdikkas, leading the other six bodyguards onto the rostra, had been about to address the assembly that Meleagros and Eukleides had pushed their way through the massed ranks of their men and hailed Arrhidaeus, garbed as Alexander, as King Philip. The king had drooled his appreciation of the honour and expressed the excitement he felt, as Meleagros placed the diadem on his head, by urinating down his leg and waving a carved wooden model of an elephant in the air.
Eumenes admired Meleagros’ actions, even if he did not approve of them, for at least they supported the bloodline of King Philip, the second to be so called, the man who had raised him from obscurity; the man who had Eumenes’ undying loyalty. And, as he regarded the indecision on Perdikkas’ face, Eumenes toyed with the idea of walking over to Meleagros and offering his services that Perdikkas seemed so reluctant to accept; perhaps something could be made of the idiot king that would unite the army and keep the Argead royal house in place. But would Meleagros and his faction respect him and keep him safe, even if they did win through? To be a Greek in a Macedonian world is no easy feat, Eumenes reminded himself, and to remain a live Greek as that world tears itself apart will be harder. He glanced over his shoulder at Roxanna sitting, veiled, in an open window in her suite, two storeys above him, watching the proceedings with a hand on her belly. Although to be an eastern wild-cat trying to stay alive with her whelp now a new king has been crowned will be harder still. But no one yet would want to take on the responsibility of killing Alexander’s child, let alone me who owes his family everything. And that’s the key to it: it’s Alexander’s and Philip’s combined bloodline that must succeed and not just Philip’s himself in the form of the idiot; and that is what lies in her womb. He frowned as a thought came to him. It’s also in Kleopatra, Alexander’s full-sister; there are perhaps more options than I first appreciated. With that realisation, Eumenes decided to remain where he was even though the look of indecision on Perdikkas’ face was intolerable. Had I been born a Macedonian I would run rings around them all; so decisive in battle and yet the complete opposite in politics. He glanced over at Ptolemy, whose amusement at the situation was palpable. Except you, perhaps. You’re enjoying this and I think I know why.
As Meleagros called his men to order, Eumenes could bear it no more. ‘The throne-room, Perdikkas,’ he said, looking up. ‘That’s what you need to do; whoever has Alexander’s body has his authority.’
The truth of the statement spurred Perdikkas into action. ‘Leonnatus and Peucestas, stay here with the cavalry and be ready to move if it looks like turning violent; we must avoid spilling Macedonian blood at all costs otherwise there’ll be no turning back. Lysimachus and Peithon, you go to the mercenary camp; I want to ensure that we can rely on them, especially the Greeks and the Thracians. Ptolemy and Aristonous, bring two hundred men and join me in the throne-room.’ He turned and ran.
‘Macedonians,’ Meleagros bellowed, his voice echoing off the tiled walls of the palace, as Perdikkas hurried down the rostra’s steps, ‘today we have chosen a new king; a Macedonian king of pure Argead blood. Today we have chosen Philip, the third of that name, to lead us.’
No you haven’t, Eumenes thought, you’ve chosen Meleagros to lead you as a fool’s regent; at least, that’s what he hopes.
‘No more shall we tolerate the mixing of eastern blood with ours,’ Meleagros continued, warming to his theme as Eumenes watched Ptolemy and Aristonous order the nearest two hundred men to dismount and follow Perdikkas to the throne-room. ‘No more shall we see the Macedonian phalanx infiltrated by men who have never seen Macedon’s hills and vales, tasted the water from her rivers, eaten her lamb and milled her grain…’
‘I never had Meleagros down as a poet,’ Eumenes commented, catching up with Ptolemy as the infantry officer continued his address. ‘An excessive drinker with more grudges and prejudices than words in his vocabulary, certainly; but the fact that he seems to put those words together reasonably lyrically is quite the eye-opener.’
Ptolemy did not look at him. ‘It’s a shame for him, really, to discover such a talent in the last few days of his life.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. I did momentarily consider offering Meleagros my support but the idiot’s blood doesn’t have Alexander’s mixed in it and that will be his downfall, that and the new king being a fool, of course.’
‘Of course. But, tell me, why should you care about the Macedonian bloodline; you’re a Greek.’
‘I am a Greek, well spotted, Ptolemy. But I’m a strange Greek as I owe everything to two Macedonians. Without Philip’s, and then Alexander’s, patronage I would, more than likely, be dead by now at the hands of assassins sent by Hecataeus, the tyrant of my native Kardia.’
‘He objected to your slipperiness and—’
‘Tendency to always finishing other people’s sentences for them? Yes, I suppose that didn’t help but, mainly, he objected to my father trying to depose him; he was executed along with the rest of my family and so I fled to Macedonia.’
‘I remember you arriving; we laughed at you for your inability to hold a boar-spear and at your learning.’
‘My learning set me apart from you boar-spear holders which is why Philip made me his secretary; that and to annoy Hecataeus, of course. And because of that kindness I shall always be loyal to the only family I now have and, in the process, benefit considerably for it.’
‘So you’re not completely without selfish motive, then?’
‘Who is entirely?’
‘I think that there may well be advantage to be had in exploiting this confusion; and I can see you believe so too, as you seem to be enjoying this.’
Eumenes struggled to keep up with Ptolemy’s long strides across the courtyard. ‘Not as much as you are.’
‘You might be right there; watching ineptitude is an enthralling pastime, especially when it’s in a game that you intend to join.’
‘A game that you intend to win?’
<
br /> Ptolemy looked at Eumenes for the first time in the conversation as they entered the corridor that led down to the side entrance of the throne-room. ‘Only a fool would try to win the game with the rules as they stand, as Meleagros will find out soon; and so will Perdikkas in the not-too-distant future if he continues on this path.’
‘And which path is that?’
‘Absolute power, his egotism won’t allow for anything else. But if any of us have learnt anything in the last ten years it’s that only Alexander could hold that commodity; and even he had to give in to the will of the infantry when they wanted to turn back.’
I think that we may be both on the same side – for the moment. ‘I couldn’t agree more; that’s my analysis too.’
‘Then why are you supporting Perdikkas?’
‘Because he has the ring.’
‘But—’
‘He was not named, I know. But that possession alone gives him the authority to make the decision that we both know needs to be made.’
‘Do we?’
‘Yes, it was your suggestion, remember? You’ve managed to get Perdikkas to concede to having four regents, which I fully supported as it implies that the Argead dynasty will be preserved; but he still hasn’t conceded the point of us each taking satrapies and I think I know which one you want.’
‘Do you now? Are you offering to help me get it?’
‘Put it this way; I would never be allowed it because it’s far too rich a prize for a mere Greek; if I’m lucky and, despite my inferior blood, get anything out of this, and that is doubtful, then it will be a barren satrapy full of untamed savage tribesmen somewhere out in the east. But at least it will be mine even if it isn’t nearly as wealthy or as easy to defend as Egypt.’
Ptolemy smiled and stopped just outside the throne-room as the men filed in behind him. ‘You are a clever little Greek. How did you know?’
‘You enjoy your luxuries and women and would love to be fabulously wealthy without having to do too much for it. All that, and the occasional good battle, should someone try to disturb your pleasure, would, I’d wager, keep you very happy for the rest of your days.’
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