By the Sword

by Christian Kachel

  Nearchus and his family shared the second floor of the apartment building with Argos. Nearchus’ father, Priskos, was a fisherman and lived with Nearchus’ mother and three other children. Priskos was a famous drinking colleague of my late father and Nearchus, being the oldest, had assumed much of the paternal responsibilities of his family. Nearchus’ elevated position was solidified when he began fighting off his father’s drunken beatings to a draw. Argos was always the more responsible sibling and thus openly looked down upon my father and disliked Priskos as well. As an extension, Argos frequently criticized me, believing I was resembling my father, and complimented Nearchus, believing he was growing up to be the responsible one. Only familial loyalty precluded Argos from choosing to take Nearchus as his apprentice after Leandros left for the wars.

  After drinking some water, taking a handful of whatever Helena was preparing for supper, and receiving a playful slap for it, I gave her a hug and a kiss. She briefly smiled and then immediately pushed me away.

  “You smell like women’s perfume and your breath smells like a sewer drain. Did you have fun with your idiot friends last night?”

  “Quiet, you,” I ordered sarcastically.

  “Luckily mother is at the market. Go sleep for a while before Argos comes for you.”

  Most days I would be with Argos early in the morning to walk down to the piers and get first look at wine and oil coming in from the Greek mainland. Today we would take our cart east to the Ionian coast road, where merchants established an impromptu market once a week. Argos was already in his storefront but would not call on me for another hour. I did want to sleep more but also did not want to hear about my lethargy for not rising at proper hour.

  “Wake me up in one half-hour,” I ordered, to which she consented.

  As I turned to enter my chamber, my mother entered the apartment with our basket half full of food items.

  “Good morning Andrikos darling, please take this basket from me.”

  She handed me the worn nest of reeds and hugged and kissed my face. I instinctively turned my head and weakly returned the hug. My mother was a short, round woman over one head shorter than I and one half head shorter then Helena. She dressed simply but was adorned with several strategically placed items such as rings, make-up and a hair beret to signal that she was no commoner. She was considered educated for a woman and always assured her two prized possessions that we were superior than the average Ilandran peasant.

  “What did you do last night?” she inquired.

  “Out with Nearchus for a while.” I always responded with Nearchus’ name when this line of questioning commenced since he was beloved by my family and was generally understood to be the more responsible of the two of us.

  “I saw Nearchus up early this morning with his brother and sister,” she replied with delight, knowing that I foolishly left an opening for follow-up questioning.

  He retired earlier then me, so I decided to stay out with Alexandros for a while.” Alexandros was the next name I would fall back on because my mother loved his jovial demeanour and kind personality. She believed him to be a bad influence on me but didn’t worry too much since she did not believe him capable of swaying my decisions.

  “And Patrochlus?” she asked unassumingly, despite this being the true intent of her entire line of inquiry. My mother also believed Patrochlus to be a bad influence on me, but unlike Alexandros, she understood Patrochlus was indeed intelligent and willing to put his cunning to ill use. She figured the more I was around him, the more likely I was to be involved in one of his schemes.

  “He was there for a while,” I replied with a little annoyance.

  “Hmmph,” was the only utterance she felt worthy of the subject. Despite her feelings, she did treat Patrochlus agreeably when in his presence and he went out of his way to be polite. This latter fact may have contributed to her overall disapproval of him, however, given that he was not capable of warm overtures and thus any attempt at making them were artificial. This contrasted with Alexandros, who could bring a smile to the most putrid wretch. My mother was highly skilled at detecting contrived sentiments, which I was frequently reminded of when I only half-heartedly hugged her or told her I loved her.

  “Are you working with uncle Argos today?” she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

  “Yes,” I mumbled.

  “Did you get enough sleep?” she inquired, again, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  “Make sure you’re at your best when working with him, he was very kind to take you on.”

  “Yes mother.”

  It now became apparent I needed to retreat to my room or I would be subject to further examination and useless conversation.

  “I’m going to get ready now.”

  “Be careful darling,” she felt compelled to add, despite there being no danger on the short walk from the front door to my bedroom.

  I took a small bowl of water into my room to quickly wash myself and collapsed on my bed for a short while. My room was simple, with two blankets thrown over a wooden board sitting on four legs acting as my bed and a wooden trunk containing an unimpressive inventory of worn clothes and insignificant childhood possessions. My walls were dirty and my floor was bare. A diminutive window was the only source of light in the small chamber. Sleep was elusive, however, as I kept startling to the image of Argos entering my room and dressing me down for sleeping at this late hour. I finally summoned enough motivation to end this anxiety-riddled wave of consciousness and got myself up. I drank the brackish water out of the bowl sitting on my trunk and exited our apartment to the sound of my mother reiterating me to “be careful” as I entered Argos’ storefront in the adjacent room.

  Chapter 3

  I entered the musky storefront to find my uncle behind the worn wooden counter separating empty clay amphora to discard on our journey to the Ionian road market. The store was stoic and neat, like Argos, with a bare countertop separating the entranceway from clay jugs filled with olive oil and wine along the back wall. He would occasionally have other items that he was able to procure a favourable price such as produce or even meat. Argos was not a rich man by any measure, but he worked hard and never asked anyone for anything. He joked that he was the neighbourhood’s lackey in that his job really consisted of trekking to the docks or the Ionian road to pick up everyone’s wine and olive oil. He utilized his personal relationships developed over decades to secure profitable prices on wine or oil purchased in bulk. He would load his cart with his acquired wares and bring them back to his store where many local residents were happy to buy them at a reasonable mark-up.

  Argos looked up at me and instructed me to load the empty clay jars on the cart.

  “You spend the night with those idiot friends of yours?” he inquired despite already knowing the answer.

  “I was with Nearchus,” I answered timidly. Using Nearchus’ name also worked with Argos but engendered a different judgment with him than my mother. Whereas mentioning Nearchus to my mother caused her to think better of me and put her mind at ease, it induced Argos to think less of Nearchus. I was more than willing to sacrifice Nearchus’ reputation in the eyes of Argos rather than uttering Patrochlus’ or Alexandros’ names, however.

  “Nearchus was up early this morning being of use to people. He tried covering up for you when I asked about your whereabouts, but he clearly wasn’t with you at the end of your night. Did you pass out somewhere or did you find some whore?” asked Argos, only slightly annoyed. He was certainly a responsible man, but he hadn’t taken a vow of chastity either. As long as I was ready to work at the appointed hour, he wasn’t going to get too upset.

  “I fell asleep at Pasicrates’ tavern,” I answered, thinking this answer was better than the truth. I quickly realized I was incorrect.

  “So you’re one of those types of drunks are you? Drinking more than your little body can handle and falling asleep in front of everyone. That’s not how a man drink
s. You’re lucky you woke up with clothes still on your back. Pasicrates is not the type to attract Ilandran aristocrats to his dump of an establishment.”

  Argos was of course right and I saw the error in my answer. I made the snap decision that I would tell him the truth rather than him think of me in this light since I was both proud of my drinking prowess and very concerned about Argos’ opinion. This might have been his plan all along: to elicit the truth by assaulting my ego. I of course played my role perfectly.

  “Well, lest you think me a pussy and a fool, I was with a woman last night.”

  “Of course you were.” I felt small for being so easily provoked into divulging privileged information and this certainly wasn’t the first time Argos exploited my childhood stupidity. I usually learned from each beguilement, but Argos seemed to have an endless capacity to elicit information from me in different ways. On instances where I learned from these ploys, I made haste to perform the same mental manipulation on one of my mates. Alexandros was usually the easiest target.

  “You know, people will begin identifying you and your associates as criminals sooner or later and maybe have you ostracized, then I can’t help you. You’re not going to be happy working here with me the rest of your life, and your idiot friends will eventually get you into something you can’t get out of. Besides, if Leandros wants to work with me when he returns, I’ll have to give it to him.”

  This dose of reality created a knot in my stomach for many reasons. He was right that I had little prospects in this world and I understood that his first choice would be to give his business to his war-hero son. Nearchus surely would have been second in line had it not been for Argos’ sense of familial loyalty. It also reminded me that I didn’t have a father figure looking out for me in this same fashion. And even if I did, my father was not respected by Argos- in the same manner which Argos looked down on me. This was what my mother and uncle did not understand about me. I yearned for a strong male figure in my life to provide caring guidance and champion my best interests. Barring that prospect, at least I could take solace in the companionship of my mates. The fact Argos held no real fondness for me used to hurt my confidence. Now I used it as a source of strength, believing I didn’t need anyone’s help in this world. I still longed for his approval but could now convince myself I was fine without it. In this same way, my mind immediately jostled me out of this train of thought and instructed me to stop feeling sorry for myself. I obeyed.

  “What would you have me do in that case?”

  “You could always join a mercenary outfit assigned to the Royal Army. I of course will remain here and continue looking after your family in your absence.” This suggestion took me aback, as my mother had forbid the subject and it was the first time he ever raised this possibility in a serious way to me. I certainly wanted to join when I was of age, but years of Argos’ disappointment in me had created an insecurity and feeling of inferiority about whether I could withstand the rigours of training or the catastrophic violence of battle. The initial training time of a new recruit weighed heavier on my nerves than the prospect of combat. In addition, the fact the subject had been banished from me by my guardians had accomplished its intended effect over the years of removing serious thought given to the matter from my own mind. This pretext served as a mental barrier for me to pursue the endeavour that I now secretly doubted my ability to succeed in. Uncle Argos didn’t help my esteem in this matter, but I would certainly use this opening to extract a vote of confidence from him.

  “Do you think I would be a worthy soldier?” I asked, my eyes showing that only one answer was acceptable.

  “I think you have the ability to succeed in most undertakings, but you’re lazy and irresponsible. If you truly committed to the task, you could prosper, but you haven’t committed to anything in your life other than loving your mother and sister. But you don’t need to try and love them, that comes natural; even though you’d rather spend a night with your idiot friends than enjoy their company for the evening.”

  This wasn’t exactly the warm endorsement I was searching for but, again, Argos was correct in his analysis. There was also a small nugget of praise in his cold assessment, however, and I would continue to pull on that thread to obtain more substantive support. My uncle was being uncharacteristically frank with me this afternoon. I suspected he felt this way about me but usually he appeared not to care enough to voice an opinion one way or the other.

  “Did you not engage in youthful indiscretions at this age?” I asked.

  “Your father did enough of that for the both of us, I was the one that stayed home and ensured everything was in order, our mother and sister were looked after and I rose at proper hour the next morning to begin the day’s work. Youthful indiscretions lead to adult vice and it led to your father being found face down in a ditch, stabbed to death and smelling of wine.” Many of Argos’ cautionary tales end with the discovery of my robbed and murdered father found in Miletus, the next town over from Ilandra. This of course occurred before Alexander’s destruction of that city for its refusal to pay homage to our God King shortly after his liberation of Ionia.

  “Let us begin our trek,” Argos ordered, perhaps believing he had overstepped by bringing my father into the conversation. As we began walking, I again broached the subject of joining the army of Asia Minor. Argos now acted indifferent about the topic in hopes I would let alone the idea he had mistakenly put in my head.

  “We live in very perilous times now that Alexander is dead. His two successors are not capable of ruling and there are too many powerful Macedonians throughout the world to cause trouble in the absence of a strong singular ruler. I fear Greeks will be fighting each other now that the lesser civilizations are defeated. It would be a shame for you to have missed the great conquests only to be killed by a fellow Greek on soil already conquered by Alexander.” Argos, as most Ionians, loved Alexander because of his successful defeat of Persian rule over our coastline. He was a proud Greek before all other things and always resented the reminder of Achaemenid dominance over the Greek cities of Ionia in the form of Spithridates, the Persian Satrap. Argos, like most of us, believed the Persians, as well as all lesser races, to be inferior to Greek civilization and culture. They no doubt felt the same about us. He would always support the successor to Alexander, whom he thought had the most legitimate lineage to Alexander himself. As such, he would support the current dual- successors of Alexander IV, a half-Greek infant born to Alexander’s Bactrian wife Rhoxane and Alexander’s half-brother Phillip III, a half-wit only allowed to live because of his ineptitude. Alexander’s general, Perdiccas, was to act as Regent for the two until Alexander IV came of age. It appeared all the major generals of Alexander had accepted this arrangement, but Argos frequently spoke of looming civil war. Many Ionians wagered that Alexander IV would not make it to his second year.

  “Would you not be proud to see me fight on behalf of Alexander’s rightful successors if a challenge was ever made on their legitimacy?” I asked, seeing a chance to elicit the answer I had been searching for.

  “Finally, a good question falls from your tongue. Maybe you aren’t hopeless after all. The answer is yes, just as I am proud to see my only son fight with Alexander at the ends of the earth against the barbarians in the name of Greece, I would be proud to speak your name in defence of all Alexander fought for. You don’t tell your mother that, you understand?”

  “Of course not,” I assured him with a noticeable grin. The thought of Argos speaking of me as he did Leandros brought a warm comfort to my gut.

  Argos quickly changed the subject to business matters lest he show more of his true feelings to me. Helena minded the store as we made our way through the city to the Ionian road. I pulled the cart full of empty amphora, as was the routine. Argos had lived in Ilandra his whole life and getting anywhere in the city was a time consuming process. He would talk to a multitude of Ilandrans about the latest gossip, local politics, world events, business matters and f
amily. Argos informed me that I was fortunate to be living in these times since there was always something to be talking about after the coming of Alexander. The day’s topic in Ilandra’s agora was Asia Minor as I stood with the cart patiently waiting for Argos to conclude his political conferences. The men were discussing Lord Regent Perdiccas’ latest effort to consolidate Greek rule over the rebellious Asia Minor regions of Cappadocia and Paphlagonia. These areas were bypassed by Alexander and had not been fully subjugated under Antigonus’ rule. Perdiccas’ general, Eumenes, was to lead this effort since Antigonus had refused to do so. The crux of the discussion centred on the competence of Eumenes. Many Ilandrans had a very strong opinion about his character and his familial background despite no one ever meeting the man. They derided the fact he had been but a secretary to both Phillip and Alexander, not a military commander. They accosted his background as a Thracian and therefore could never command the respect of Macedonian regulars. Argos was at the centre of this discussion on global politics for about half an hour before signalling me to resume our trek.

  We came upon the mound of clay shards where Ilandrans discard their used and empty amphora and carelessly added ours to the pile. We reached our destination shortly after and came upon a number of carts hauling a myriad of different items. Olive oil and wine were my uncle’s primary concern, but he again used the opportunity to inform me of how lucky I was to be living in this age ushered in by Alexander where all manner of goods from the Greek mainland could be obtained in quantities never before seen. If the Ilandran agora was where local news was discussed, the Ionian road is where it was obtained. Men travelling from the north, south, and east all could be found on the road and information was freely passed. The rumours of Perdiccas and Eumenes bringing an army into Asia Minor were true, according to a merchant who had travelled from Cilicia. A Thracian informed us that one of Alexander’s greatest generals, Craterus, had travelled through Thrace into Macedonia. Craterus was a name well known in the Greek world and any news of his whereabouts was welcome. Craterus joined Antigonus at the royal court of Antipater, the ruler of all Greek possessions in Europe in Alexander’s absence. This news did not seem particularly important to me but uncle Argos saw this as an ominous sign.