Alexander's Legacy: To The Strongest

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Like most Molossians of their royal house he thinks more of himself than he has a right to; think of a younger, male version of Olympias but without the cunning and you’ll get close to the man.’

  ‘As bad as that, eh? Well, I think I should write to Neoptolemus and offer him the opportunity to win some of that glory that he thinks he so obviously deserves.’

  ‘And give Eumenes one more chance to come over,’ Krateros suggested, ‘let’s see if we can do this without too much bloodshed.’

  You have done all that honour requires for Perdikkas’ cause but now the stage has been reached where we must all decide on the rights and wrongs of the matter. Perdikkas is trying to assume the crown for himself and become the master of all of us. Will you fight to support him in that aim or will you join us to defeat the would-be tyrant and secure the rights of the two kings? Think on this carefully for many lives depend upon it. If you decide to join with me then it will be with a full amnesty and respect for your rank and the chance of glory.

  Antipatros put the letter down, brow creased in thought. I suppose I can legitimately claim to be fighting for the rights of the babe and the fool, although, frankly, I can’t see what use either of them will be to the empire; best just to carve it up and get on with it. Gods, I’m too old for all this. He handed the scroll to his secretary. ‘Do two copies, one to be sent to Neoptolemus, the other to Eumenes; bring them to me for signing as soon as they’re done; I want them to have read it before our two armies come within sight of each other.’

  With the secretary gone about his business Antipatros turned to the new arrival in his camp and poured him a drink. ‘Well, Antigonos, old friend; so the sly little Greek gave you and me both the slip.’

  Antigonos took the proffered cup. ‘So it seems; you have to admire the little bastard: how he got from Sigeum, past all your lads and all the way back to his army – if you can call it that – at Parium, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, he’s there now and my scouts tell me that Neoptolemus has fallen back towards him.’ He gave a wheezy chuckle. ‘Or advanced towards him, perhaps, if my letter does the trick; that will concentrate Eumenes’ mind.’ He raised his cup in a toast. ‘To Neoptolemus and Eumenes both seeing sense.’

  It was with deep regret that Antipatros received Eumenes’ refusal to abandon Perdikkas’ cause.

  ‘The sly little bastard has even offered to be a go-between between Perdikkas and me,’ Krateros said after reading his own letter from Eumenes. ‘Divide and conquer is, I suppose, his strategy. Well, it won’t work with me.’

  Antipatros tossed away his reply. ‘Let’s get this side-show over with and then we can concentrate on the real issue of Perdikkas; stand the men to and prepare to advance.’

  Even after sixty years in the field, Antipatros still felt a thrill at the sight of an army arrayed for battle: thick and wide was his formation, with two lines of Macedonian pikemen, both sixteen ranks deep, and nearly half a league across and with each end tipped by dark blocks of cavalry supported by peltasts, it was a mighty force and from it rose clouds of dust and the heavy tread of forty thousand pairs of feet.

  Over the undulating terrain it rippled, its frontage ever straight but its body rising and falling with the contours of the hills.

  ‘There they are,’ Antipatros said, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Less than a league away, I should say.’

  ‘And they’re advancing,’ Krateros observed. ‘Are we really going to do this after all? Phalanx against phalanx? Neoptolemus is facing us with his infantry while Eumenes is hanging back like the cowardly little Greek he is.’

  ‘He may be just waiting to decide the best wing for his Kappadokian cavalry; I’ve heard rumours that they’re good.’

  ‘No match for a phalanx of our proportions. I wonder whether the lads will lift their pikes at the last moment and just turn it into a shoving match or whether they’ll have the stomach for taking former comrades’ lives?’

  Antipatros grimaced. That’s the question that I’ve been fretting about: if the men will not fight then how can we settle this argument? ‘At least Eumenes isn’t a Macedonian and Neoptolemus is Molossian, so it could still just be argued that this isn’t really a civil war; that might help to persuade our lads to fight and when their lads realise that it really has come down to it they might well decide to come over to us before any blood is spilt.’

  The closer they came together, the clearer the individuals in the ranks became and the similarity in dress unmistakable. Antipatros looked along the line of Neoptolemus’ phalanx, identical in every way to his own. As he watched them they halted, their pikes upright, a forest of ash. ‘Sound the “Halt”!’ he ordered, looking down at the signaller marching alongside his horse. ‘We’ll give them one more chance to reconsider, now that they’ve seen the size of our army compared to theirs.’

  Horns sounded out each way along the line and officers bellowed their orders; the huge force ground to a halt and silence fell over the field as the armies faced each other, just a thousand paces apart.

  ‘We can’t just stand here all day,’ Krateros said eventually. ‘They are certainly not going to charge us so it’s down to us.’

  Antipatros put his hand up to his ear. ‘Listen!’

  There was nothing at first but then, slowly, Antipatros could hear the rumble and axle-creaks of many wheels and the bestial cries of beasts of burden. ‘There!’ he shouted, pointing to the right wing of Neoptolemus’ phalanx. ‘There, it’s their baggage.’ And there was I thinking that I would never be pleased to see a baggage train.

  On it came at the stately pace of the lowing oxen pulling the wagons loaded with the possessions of the Neoptolemus’ army, an army that had been in the field for over ten years now, an army that had reaped the plunder for scores of lands; a fat army and its baggage train reflected that fact.

  With a huge crash, as the final component of the baggage cleared Neoptolemus’ phalanx, the army turned about and faced its erstwhile ally. A single trumpet call shrilled.

  ‘Well, Krateros, I think we should stand and watch as this is not strictly a Macedonian affair,’ Antipatros said, his voice light with relief. ‘That was the order to advance; it looks like our new friend, Neoptolemus the Molossian, is going to oblige us by dealing with Eumenes the Greek.’

  EUMENES, THE SLY

  FIRST KLEITOS AND now that prig, Neoptolemus; well, fuck them all. Eumenes’ face was grim and rigid as he watched Neoptolemus advance his army towards him. He looked over to the huge force that Antipatros had brought over to Asia and gasped. They’re not moving! They’re just going to stand there and watch, thinking that I stand no chance against Neoptolemus; well, fuck them all if they think I’m so easy. ‘Parmida!’

  ‘Yes, lord,’ the commander of the Kappadokian cavalry said, kicking his horse forward.

  ‘We’re going to beat this arrogant turd.’

  ‘Yes, lord, but how?’

  Eumenes’ expression was genuinely amused. ‘It’s so simple: we haven’t got enough infantry to stand against that phalanx so we withdraw at a good pace and you take your men out onto the right wing and watch out for me.’

  Eumenes looked along his thin line, just three ranks deep, of mercenary hoplites bolstered by peltasts in the third rank; it just about covered the width of Neoptolemus’ ten-thousandstrong phalanx advancing down the hill towards him but there was no feasibility of it holding it. Riding his horse along his men’s frontage he waved his sword in the air as he addressed them. ‘Lads, you don’t have to win and you don’t have to die this day. All that is required of you is to fall back in good order, drawing the phalanx on. Do not let it come into contact, for that is a contest that we cannot win so we will not offer it. Fall back slowly and trust on my judgement and victory will be ours without one of your lives being needed to pay for it.’

  The cheer he received was not resounding. But at least it’s more than half-hearted. Now, this is the hour that will make me or break
me. He looked up towards the dark horde bearing down on him: hardened-leather cuirasses, bronze helmets crammed over bearded faces with shields emblazoned with the sixteen-point sun-burst of Macedon slung on their left shoulders and over their forearms so that two hands could be used to grip the sixteen-feet-long sarissa that each man wielded, they tramped on with determination in every stride. At one hundred and fifty paces out, his Cretan archers loosed their first volley that clattered down through the forest of pikes, its momentum dulled. One hundred paces out soon became fifty and the sarissas of the first five ranks were brought to bear as the arrow storm continued bringing a scattering of men down but not enough to disrupt the formation.

  ‘Now!’ Eumenes shouted when the opposing armies were thirty paces apart. Back went his mercenaries in a step by step, steady retreat, their round hoplon shields before them and their long spears over the shoulders, overarm, ready for a downwards strike. But Eumenes did not expect to see blood on those spear-tips as the full-face-helmed professional warriors kept their line perfect in retreat.

  Back and back they fell, drawing the Macedonians on for, as Eumenes had surmised, Neoptolemus wished to show his loyalty to his new masters by giving them a crushing victory; but victory could not be won against troops who refused to fight. And it was in frustration that Neoptolemus urged his men on and it was upon that frustration that Eumenes had pinned his hopes for it was that frustration that would spell defeat for Neoptolemus.

  For five hundred paces they retreated and then another five hundred; it was at this point that Eumenes kicked his horse and, with orders to the infantry commander to keep up the valiant retreat, galloped to join Parmida and his Kappadokians. ‘Follow me!’ he shouted as he sped to their front rank. ‘Follow me around the flank.’

  With five hundred whooping cavalry troopers pounding behind him, Eumenes experienced again the thrill of the charge that had so exhilarated him in Armenia; but it was not a cavalry or infantry formation that he had his eyes set upon as he wheeled around the flank of the huge phalanx that was being drawn further and further east. It was something much more precious; and as they cleared the rear rank of Neoptolemus’ line, Eumenes spied what he sought. ‘Their baggage!’ he screamed back at his men over the thunder of hooves and seeing their objective undefended that thunder became more frenetic.

  Through the lines of stationary wagons and pack-mules, piled high with plunder, the Kappadokians poured, dealing death to those who stood in their path as women screamed and, clutching babes and toddlers, ran for their lives. But Eumenes was not interested in the women for he knew soldiery only too well and when presented with a choice of saving his women or his plunder of the last ten years the average soldier would choose the latter nine times out of ten; a woman was far easier to replace than ten years of plunder.

  Round the cavalry swooped, surrounding the baggage-train and forcing it to move off to the north. ‘Parmida,’ Eumenes called once he could see that the objective had been secured and there was no attempt underway from either Antipatros’ army or that of Neoptolemus to reverse the move; indeed, Neoptolemus’ phalanx were so focused on the elusive enemy that they had not yet noticed their misfortune. ‘You take the baggage and keep it safe with half your men, the other half give to me.’ He pointed to the exposed rear of the enemy formation fifteen hundred paces away. ‘That is too much of an opportunity to resist.’

  It was a smiling Parmida who drove the baggage-train northwards and left Eumenes with two hundred and fifty heavy cavalry. He did not need to give the order to charge for all knew what they would do and all relished the chance of reaping cheap lives.

  Spreading out as they charged, into a single line of two hundred and fifty troopers, the Kappadokians formed a frontage of almost eight hundred paces across; down they bore on the softest part of the phalanx, javelins poised in their fists as the wind rippled their beards and pulled at their horses’ manes and tails.

  It was not until the first of the file-closers went down with javelins juddering in the backs, points exploding through ribcages, that the hapless infantry realised the danger they were in. Through the last two or three ranks the cavalry ploughed, swords slashing down, cleaving open necks and shoulders and taking heads as the defenceless troops scattered before them, sending waves of panic throughout the entire formation. But too much death was not Eumenes’ plan for he had more use for this phalanx alive rather than dead. And so, as the first of the panicking infantry dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in submission, he pulled on his mount’s reins.

  ‘Fall back! Fall back!’

  Disengaging, the Kappadokians left a trail of bloodied corpses and mewling maimed as the entire phalanx fell to its knees and begged mercy.

  Now I just have to persuade them that I’m a much better prospect than Neoptolemus and I suddenly have a proper army. Sometimes I surprise even myself.

  And so, with his face set in a displeased countenance and his blood-streaked sword waving in the air, Eumenes rode into the middle of ten thousand kneeling men; none threatened him for now they could see their baggage being taken north and they knew that only Eumenes could reunite them with it.

  ‘Soldiers of Macedon!’ Eumenes declaimed as he stood in the centre of the kneeling phalanx. ‘Soldiers of Macedon, why desert me and then turn upon me? Just an hour ago we stood shoulder to shoulder and then you let yourselves be talked into treachery by Neoptolemus. Neoptolemus couldn’t even pay you properly in Armenia; and because of him three or four hundred of your number now lie dead and the entire plunder of your careers is in my hands. Where is Neoptolemus now? Can you see him? No, of course not; he has brought you down but is not prepared to share your plight with you. What sort of a leader is that?’ He paused to assess the mood of the men and was rewarded with the sound of aggrieved agreement. ‘I make you this offer then: swear to my service and the service of King Philip and King Alexander and you shall have your baggage back and I will undertake to make sure that you are paid regularly and will make up any back pay that is owed to you by Neoptolemus. Follow me and cleanse yourselves of the stain of the treachery that Neoptolemus tricked you into. Swear to me and become my men!’ With a flourish he sheathed his sword and leapt from his horse. The cheer that rose was mighty as those closest to him got to their feet, some with tears in their eyes, and vied with one another to touch their saviour, all the while promising their loyalty. Up onto men’s shoulders Eumenes was lifted and in triumph was he paraded through his new army as the troops now mingled together celebrating their union.

  Eumenes surveyed the rejoicing as he was carried aloft. That is the best day’s work I’ve done for a while. He looked back, towards the second army, still stationary, a league away. And now I have the ability to make things very difficult for Antipatros and Krateros.

  KRATEROS,

  THE GENERAL

  ‘IDON’T CALL THAT bad generalship – not in the slightest,’ Krateros said as he watched Eumenes’ army pull back in the direction of the River Halys some forty leagues distant.

  ‘It was luck,’ Neoptolemus insisted. ‘He’s a secretary not a soldier; a Greek secretary at that.’

  ‘A Greek secretary who just defeated you,’ Antipatros pointed out.

  Neoptolemus stamped his foot. ‘He did not defeat me, he tricked me. He wouldn’t engage and kept on withdrawing.’

  ‘And then sent his cavalry around your flank, captured your baggage and then charged you in the rear thus forcing your phalanx to surrender and then go over to him,’ Antigonos recounted. ‘I call that good generalship and I didn’t think that Eumenes had it in him.’

  Neoptolemus’ face was puce with rage and shame. ‘Why didn’t any of you come to my aid?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have needed any assistance in beating that tiny force,’ Krateros said, still watching the withdrawal of Eumenes’ army. ‘And by the time it became apparent that you did, you were too far away. We wouldn’t have got there in time.’ He turned to Antipatros. ‘Well, one thing is for sure:
none of us will ever underestimate the sly little Greek again; he’s even doing the clever thing right now and withdrawing inland back to Kappadokia; so, the question is: do we follow him or do we risk having him come up behind us as we move south?’

  Antipatros watched the army disappear over a hill, contemplating the problem. ‘Neither,’ he said after a while. ‘We split our forces.’

  Krateros raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t afford to get side-tracked chasing Eumenes; you go and get him, Krateros, and then join me heading south.’

  ‘And I’ll go too,’ Neoptolemus insisted. ‘I’m going to kill the little shit.’

  ‘Yes, you certainly have more reason than most of us to want to do that. Get him quickly, Krateros, and then meet me at Issus where we might find out more about the whereabouts of Perdikkas. Antigonos, take half of your Phrygian army down to Tyros and convince Nearchus to see sense and side with us; I’ll send word to Kleitos to rendezvous with you there. I want you to take Cyprus; if Perdikkas has any sense he will have sent someone to do the same for him. Whoever has Cyprus controls the coast so make sure it’s us, old friend.’

  Antigonos grinned at the notion, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. ‘I’ll enjoy that; and it’ll give Demetrios a chance to learn something about joint land and sea operations.’

  Antipatros smiled. I wish I had his endless enthusiasm for warfare. ‘Well, gentlemen, let’s get on with it then; the sooner it’s done the sooner we can return to our wives and rest.’

  Krateros had not been prepared for Eumenes to turn and face him. I would have thought that he would try and cross the Halys; not let himself be caught with his back against it. Perhaps Neoptolemus was right after all and it was just luck that secured the little Greek’s victory. For ten days Krateros had chased and harried Eumenes over the rough country of the interior of Phrygia, past Ancyra, and now, with the Halys in sight, Eumenes had chosen to turn and fight. It puzzled Krateros as he could see no obvious advantage in the terrain for the Greek nor could he see how Eumenes planned to defeat his twenty thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry with his force of almost half that number. Nevertheless, there he was forming up his army for battle and Krateros was most certainly going to oblige him, deploying his phalanx in the centre with his cavalry split between either side. ‘It may not be very imaginative,’ he mused to Neoptolemus as they waited for the last units of the phalanx to arrive at their allotted positions, ‘but it has always been effective.’