On the elephants came, each successive beast causing more damage to the stricken; pulverising them, grinding flesh and bone into a mash reeking of viscera. The kneeling men were bowled over by the first couple of beasts and then crushed by those following. Every life taken sent the marauding animals, trained to do just thus in war, into new frenzies as they dipped tusks and hurled broken carcasses into the air, spraying gore and vile juices over their wrinkled skin. One grim veteran, hopping for all he was worth, managed to clear the line of charge; cheered on by his comrades and laughed at by the cavalry, he pumped his bound legs back and forth, his hands tied behind his back, as an elephant veered aside to chase him. It was through his wrists that the tip of the tusk pierced him first, to then smash through his lower spine; his legs ceased to function but his weight was supported by the bronze-encased ivory that sheered up through him to burst out of his sternum in a spray of blood. With horror in his eyes he stared down at the gore-smeared protrusion for an instant before, screaming, he was hurled aloft, useless legs flapping free, to land in a crumpled tangle of limbs on unforgiving ground. Round his tormentor came, as its fellow beasts carried on down the shrieking line of prisoners – half now no more than so much jelly – to pummel its victim into the earth; back and forth it trampled, grinding what had once been a proud, Macedonian phalangite into a thick soup of cracked bone, gristle and gore.
‘I don’t think there’ll be much stomach for defending Meleagros after this,’ Eumenes said as another screaming veteran was tossed high and then caught, impaled, on a crimson tusk. ‘They have their king, fool though he may be; although they all seem to have conveniently forgotten that he is half Thessalian and therefore just as much a half-breed as whatever Roxanna whelps.’ He turned to give Ptolemy a pleasant smile. ‘Half-breeds on the Macedonian throne, what next? Bastards?’
Ptolemy’s return smile was equally as congenial. ‘Sly little Greeks, perhaps?’
‘There you go too far, my dear Ptolemy. Although I will gladly take a satrapy. I imagine that Perdikkas is fast coming to the conclusion that it would be folly to carry on with Alexander’s plans to go west with the army so fractured.’
‘Thus leaving it for me.’
Eumenes looked at Ptolemy in surprise. ‘You’re not serious, are you?’
‘Not completely, but when I do get Egypt it would be foolish not to take Cyrenaica and then…well then we shall see.’
‘I’m sure we will.’ Ptolemy in Egypt but looking west not east? Now that would be a most useful development; perhaps I’ll keep my word to him after all and not come between him and his prize. It was as the last man died, his chest crushed beneath a bloodied foot, that Seleukos signalled to his mahouts to restrain their beasts and rally them to the west of the cavalry. As the trumpeting died down, the army was left in stunned silence staring at the three hundred smudges of men as the horror of what had just been witnessed was processed.
Perdikkas let them dwell on the punishment for a few score racing heartbeats before he once again kicked his horse forward, with Philip at his side, to address the whole army.
Now he has their attention; now we can get down to business.
PERDIKKAS,
THE HALF-CHOSEN
PERDIKKAS LOOKED DOWN with distaste at the mush that had once been a soldier of Alexander, trampled into the ground. No doubt I spoke to him at some point in the last ten years; perhaps even shared a joke or a skin of wine with him. He looked along the long line of similar bloody blemishes spread along the frontage of the phalanx. With each one of them I shouldn’t be surprised. But it’s their own fault; they pay the price for obstructing me. It was with a tinge of regret that he reviewed his actions now that the executions were over, but he could not fault what he had done. I had no choice; I hold the ring and my authority shouldn’t be questioned.
He raised his eyes to the solid block of the phalanx, whose ranks he had just purged, to see a mixture of fear and respect in the men’s eyes as if they had understood the necessity of his act. Now to give them what they want and then I can concentrate fully on keeping the empire together. Curse that Ptolemy for being right, we must consolidate and that can’t be done by following Alexander’s last plans. And curse that little Greek for making it impossible to reject this drooling idiot next to me as king. He glanced sidelong at the figure of Philip, riding next to him, and was, as ever, reminded of the man’s father and namesake, such was the similarity between them: strong chin and forehead with bulging brows, dark eyes and a thin mouth. Outwardly it would be hard to notice that there was anything amiss with him, other than his insistence on taking his toy elephant everywhere, shambolic hair, an almost constant inane grin that resulted in drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth and a tendency to wet himself when overexcited. In most other respects he seemed perfectly normal; he had a powerful physique and could – so Perdikkas had been informed – rut like a rabbit, being the possessor of a prodigious penis; however, he did have a propensity for overdoing things and more than a few of his partners – all of them slaves, naturally – had suffered grievously from his attentions, one had even bled to death.
It was within him that the problem lay; although he could reason, it was only to the ability of an eight-year-old child and it was as an eight-year-old child that Perdikkas would deal with the king.
‘Are you ready to call the men to order, Philip? Remember, you are king and are allowed to talk to all the men at once.’
Philip looked at him, excitement in his eyes and a cheery grin on his face. ‘Can I? Oh can I, please?’
‘Yes you can. Tell them that you want them to listen to what I have to say.’
‘Yes, yes; I’ll do that. Shall I say something to them too?’
‘No, just what I’ve told you to say.’
‘What about that nice Meleagros who made me king? Should I ask them to listen to what he has to say as well?’
Perdikkas reached over and put his hand on Philip’s arm, squeezing it, reassuring him. ‘Don’t you remember? Meleagros is a very bad man and nobody should listen to what he has to say at all, ever again. We’re going to send him to meet the Ferryman.’
At the mention of the Ferryman, Philip became nervous, looking around in jerky movements as if Charon himself were stalking him. ‘I don’t like the Ferryman.’
‘Yes, well now just do as I’ve said and don’t worry about the Ferryman,’ Perdikkas said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
‘Yes, yes, of course, Perdikkas.’ The inane grin returned and a trail of drool fell from the corner of Philip’s mouth. He took a deep breath. ‘Macedonians!’ The shout was shrill but, coming from within such a large frame, effective; gradually quiet became manifest over the field. ‘Macedonians!’ Philip shouted once more, warming to his task. ‘I want you to listen to what Perdikkas has to say.’
Before Philip could have the chance to go off-script, Perdikkas urged his mount forward. ‘Men of the army of Babylon,’ he shouted, wheeling his horse around so that he addressed both the infantry and the cavalry. ‘Through the blood shed today we have purged ourselves; we are now one again!’ He paused and was rewarded with a cheer; giving him heart for what he was about to say. ‘In the eight days since Alexander’s death we have been at odds with each other but now we are united behind King Philip and the as yet unborn King Alexander.’ This was greeted with more cheering. Gods, if he turns out to be a girl then life will be so much easier. ‘When Alexander died he still had great plans; as you all know, we were due to campaign in Arabia to bring the peninsular within our empire. This was not to be just an idle conquest, it had a strategic purpose: it meant that there would be no hostile people to our backs when Alexander took us west.’ This time his pause was met by silence and, judging by the look on the faces nearest to him, it was of the stunned variety. ‘Yes, west. And it was to be with his new army of Asians as well as us, his loyal Macedonians.’
It never hurts to get them all fired up over Alexander’s perceived favouri
ng of the conquered, Perdikkas mused as mutterings rose from both infantry and cavalry alike. At least they’re united in their hatred of foreigners.
‘He was forming a fleet and was to lead us to the Greek cities in far-off Italia and Sicilia, as well as overland across Africa and on to Carthage, a place that few of you will ever have heard of. Then he was going to lead us to the Endless sea; another journey of ten years, perhaps more for, who knows, he might have been tempted by the legend of Hyperborea, the realm beyond the north wind.’ The idea of such a desolate place caused uproar throughout the army and Perdikkas smiled to himself. He could now get them to do his bidding; he could now get them to do what he could not unilaterally do without fear of accusations of cowardice aimed at him in time: he could get the army to expunge Alexander’s vision. ‘Is that how you would spend the coming years, men of Macedon? Shall we bring Alexander’s plans to fruition and set off on another journey of conquest? Shall we ride to bring fear into the hearts of the Hyperboreans?’
A resounding negative thundered from all present on the field; so loud, even, that it took Perdikkas by surprise and made his horse skitter. ‘What was that you said, Macedonians? Shall we go?’
Again the answer was negative and again it was unanimous.
Perdikkas held his arms up for quiet and the roar rumbled down into a hiss of muted mutterings. ‘Are you asking your king to cancel Alexander’s plans, men of Macedon?’
And they pleaded with him now, pleaded not to go west; pleaded to stay in Babylon or return home, anything but go west.
‘Very well.’ Perdikkas turned to Philip, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself by the size of the grin on his face. ‘Tell them you’re calling the army assembly and they can vote on the matter.’
‘Oh, can I? That’ll be fun; the army assembly, that’s what made me king, wasn’t it? I like the army assembly.’
‘Good, I’m very pleased. Well, invoke it.’
Confusion caused Philip to frown as he tried to repeat the word. ‘Imboke? Imvote?’
‘Call the army assembly, summon it, whatever. Just put your arms up and when there is silence say that you are calling the army assembly to vote on Alexander’s last plans.’
That seemed to satisfy Philip and he did as asked with a degree of fluency, Perdikkas was pleased to note. Perhaps I can train him up so that he will be a decent mouthpiece for me; he may have his uses after all. ‘And what does the infantry say?’ Perdikkas shouted once the question had been put to them.
‘Cancel!’
‘And what does the cavalry say?’
And the answer was the same; the army had rid itself of Alexander’s vision and Perdikkas was free to do as he wished. And now I can concentrate on preserving Alexander’s legacy; bugger Ptolemy. Still, he was right: we consolidate and each take a satrapy to rule in Philip’s name with me as his regent here in Babylon and with positions of honour for Antipatros and Krateros to prevent any bad feeling. As for Ptolemy, I suppose I’ll have to give him what he wants, but I’ll hobble him somehow; I’ll contemplate it overnight. And Eumenes, that odious little Greek, if he thinks that he’s going to get anything worthwhile he can think again; I know exactly what to give him.
‘Kappadokia.’
‘Kappadokia?’
‘Yes, Kappadokia.’ Perdikkas could barely keep a straight face as he regarded the outrage on the little Greek’s face the following morning when the senior officers met before the empty throne; at the far end of the room, embalmers had finally begun their work on Alexander’s curiously uncorrupted corpse.
‘But it isn’t even subdued yet; Ariarathes, the Persian satrap is still in place,’ Eumenes protested.
‘And you’re just the man to go root him out.’
‘And how am I supposed to do that without an army?’
‘I shall write to Antigonos, commanding him to help you seeing as he has failed in his duty to Alexander by not already subduing it.’ Now this is the part that I shall really enjoy. Perdikkas turned to Leonnatus. ‘Hellespontine Phrygia?’
Leonnatus held his head high and looked down his nose at Perdikkas whilst flicking from his right eye a few errant hairs escaped from his Alexanderesque coiffure. ‘What about it?’
‘It’s yours, which means that you and Lysimachus, over on the other side of the Hellespont in Thracia, will have control of all shipping going to and from the Euxine; very lucrative, I should say.’ Is that a big enough incentive for him? By the look in Leonnatus’ eyes, Perdikkas could tell that it was a tempting proposition, even though he knew that his pride was still wounded from his relegation from the regency.
‘How have you come up with these appointments, Perdikkas?’ Leonnatus asked after a few moments’ contemplation; mutterings from the dozen other men around the table indicated that it was a question they all wanted answering.
Perdikkas cursed the man inwardly for forcing him to justify himself but realised that he had no option but to do so. ‘There is no reason to remove Antipatros from Macedon, Menander from Lydia, Assander from Caria or Antigonos from Phrygia, so they stay. Krateros will share Europe with Antipatros, being his second-in-command. Lysimachus actually asked for Thracia as he’s keen to have an unruly province to tame and to secure our northern borders against the Getae. Peucestas has learnt Persian and has taken to wearing trousers so is the obvious choice for Persis. Eudamus is welcome to India and the eastern satrapies are best ruled by the local men that Darius had appointed as they know their own people. Nearchos is having Syria and will take over the fleet that Krateros is collecting and base it in Tyre.’
‘Oh, so you think Krateros will give that up, do you?’ Eumenes asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Of course he will; I shall write and order him to do so.’
‘Oh, good; how reassuring.’
Perdikkas glared at the Greek for a few moments before continuing. ‘I’m staying here in Babylon to oversee Asia, with Archon as nominal satrap. Attalus, who marries my sister Atalanta this month, is in command of the river fleet and Seleukos will serve as my second-in-command of the army now that Meleagros is under sentence of death when we find him; Kassandros takes over from Seleukos as commander of the Hypaspists. Alketas is taking Assyria.’ His brother gave a satisfied smirk. ‘So unless you want Media, which I was going to allot to Peithon, or somewhere even further east, I could order Roxanna’s father, Oxyartes, to give up his satrapy of Paropamisadae and see how he likes it; Hellespontine Phrygia seems like a convenient and rich choice. Or you could do as Aristonous has done and opt for nothing.’
‘And what about Egypt?’
PTOLEMY, THE BASTARD
YES, AND WHAT about Egypt? Ptolemy had listened throughout the meeting, hoping to hear his name associated with that satrapy and was, by now, fairly confident that he should receive his prize as all the others had been allocated. It had been Perdikkas’ manner during the meeting that had annoyed him most, and, judging by the mutterings from around the assembled, many of the others too. By having got control of King Philip, sitting, grinning inanely, next to Perdikkas, to the extent that the simpleton did everything his new master required of him, Perdikkas had manoeuvred himself into a position of absolute power. Absolute power at least in Asia, as Europe is a different matter; as I intend Africa to be.
‘Egypt already has a satrap, Cleomenes, appointed by Alexander,’ Perdikkas said.
‘But he’s a Greek from Naucratis,’ Leonnatus protested.
Yes, and a very nasty one at that and probably more avaricious than me.
‘Who has proved to be an effective administrator; whatever happens, he will stay in Egypt.’
That is not what I wanted to hear.
But Perdikkas was not finished. ‘Which is why he will remain as second-in-command in the satrapy to advise Ptolemy when he takes up his post there.’
Now that is what I wanted to hear. But if Perdikkas thinks that he can keep Cleomenes there to be his spy, he can think again.
‘Very we
ll, Perdikkas,’ Leonnatus said, after a brief look at Ptolemy, ‘I’ll take it.’
‘Good,’ Perdikkas said, in a tone that implied that he was enjoying himself considerably. ‘I was hoping that you would as I’m sure that between you and Antigonos you will be able to help Eumenes pacify his satrapy, which will also include Paphlagonia.’
‘But that is traditionally part of Hellespontine Phrygia.’
‘Not any more.’
Leonnatus glanced at the little Greek and said nothing; his expression was eloquent enough. It was equally eloquent in his regarding of Perdikkas.
Ptolemy’s expression remained neutral. Perdikkas, Perdikkas, you really are a blunderer; if you think that arrogant narcissist is going to lift a finger to help out our Greek friend then you are sadly deluded. And as for the Resinated Cyclops, it’s hard to tell who he hates the most, Greeks or little Greeks, either way, well… or perhaps you are aware of that and this is your clumsy attempt to give Eumenes nothing whilst being seen to be giving him a lot.
‘You’re quiet, Ptolemy,’ Perdikkas said, breaking off eye contact with Leonnatus.
‘Are you expecting me to thank you, Perdikkas?’ Ptolemy asked in a surprised tone. ‘In fact, are you expecting anyone here to thank you for giving them only what they had earnt over the last ten years?’ He looked meaningfully at Leonnatus and then Eumenes. ‘Egypt is no more than I deserve; some here didn’t even get what they deserved. No, Perdikkas, you may have Alexander’s ring and you may have control of the king but you know that you are nothing without the rest of us. Only like this can we hold the empire together and so, therefore, in taking up our satrapies we are only doing our duty to Macedon and to Alexander’s memory, as were you in making the distribution. I don’t expect thanks for doing my duty and nor should you.’
‘But I gave you Egypt, that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’
Alexander's Legacy: To The Strongest Page 9
