“Alexander’s speech had its intended effect on all present and his words did more to galvanize our spirit than a thousand public tributes. ‘I realize there have been many rumours and foreboding about my health as of late and I intentionally chose to reveal my condition to the King’s Hand before even my generals for a very important reason,’ Alexander continued, his voice now taking a more serious tone. ‘During the worst of my recovery I was frequently in and out of consciousness, which allowed me to receive a vision from the spiritual realm.’ It was here that I now noticed several of Alexander’s diviner entourage standing in the back corner of the tent looking on in statuesque poses. ‘The pronouncement of the Oracle at Siwa in Egypt declaring my divine lineage was reiterated to me by my father Zeus Ammon himself last night.’ He then turned to his diviners, who all shook their heads quite rigorously. ‘To the left of my father was Heracles, son of Zeus and patriarch of the Argead House. My father’s message, as interpreted by myself and my diviners, was a warning that, although I am his son and will not die from a wound suffered in battle, I too am susceptible to a mortal death by treachery, just as his son Heracles was. Such a fate at this point would be disastrous to the Argead Dynasty and the Greek cause without an established heir. Which brings me to the essence of your presence here today.’”
“The mood of the room was rapt on his every word. The fact that our God King would choose to divulge such personal and consequential information to us was at the forefront of everyone’s mind, lurking just behind our poised facades. ‘It is with this backdrop that I now call upon the King’s Hand to enter the next chapter of its existence,’ Alexander announced with a renewed vigour in his voice. ‘Your charge has been to defend the interest of this army and its leader. Zeus Ammon has opened my eyes to the narrowness of this charter. Under the order of your King, commanded by Zeus Ammon himself, the King’s Hand will swear a divine oath in front of all present that, as of now, you are the divine protectors of the Argead Dynasty. Not just of myself, but of my line should I perish. Men, we are returning to Babylon after a decade of conquest. My enemies are slain and subjugated and we will now enter a new phase- one of stability, strengthening of the royal foundation, and eventual conquest of the Arabia, Western Europe and Carthage. The King’s Hand will vow to always protect the Argead Line during this time and ensure a member of my blood, the blood of Zeus and Heracles, occupies the world’s throne from now until the end of days.’”
“Alexander’s speech had prepared us well for this moment, and while no one could conceive we would be protecting his lineage after his death so soon after that day, we all took the solemn oath as prepared by the diviners and in the presence of Alexander, Hephaestion, Polyperchon, Eumenes, and all leaders of the King’s Hand. So you see, we ride to Triparadeisus not to further the ambition of some general, but we are fighting a clandestine battle for the blood of Alexander, descendant of Heracles and Zeus Ammon, against those that wish to usurp his rightful succession by Alexander IV. That is why Perdiccas’ defeat was so grave and we are racing to Triparadeisus. Both Philip III and Alexander IV have fallen into the hands of those who wish to use them as props long enough to steal control and eliminate them when the proper time allows. We need to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
Vettias had just imparted more information than I knew how to process at once. I could not form words worthy enough to respond to such a tale. After a pause, only one question seemed most in need of answering. “Why have you decided to involve such a nobody as me in this grand struggle?”
“Alexander’s sudden death came as a shock to everyone, including the King’s Hand,” Vettias admitted. “Since that time we have been racing to get ahead of events and shape them from the shadows across the empire. Antigonus’ refusal to obey Lord Regent Perdiccas’ orders to quell the Cappadocian opposition was the first sign of insubordination. This ill omen was followed by Neoptolemus’ outright treachery and Ptolemy’s brazen hijack of Alexander’s body. Since then we have been carefully growing our numbers and increasing our reach by placing agents within as many circles of leadership as possible throughout the world. I chose you because I need someone unknown to the world of shadows. You will be able to do things I cannot in Triparadeisus due to my notoriety over the years. I chose you because you seemed like you had a decent enough head on your shoulders, despite being as green as a blade of grass. I chose you, Andrikos, because if you survive this mission, you will take the oath and become a member of the King’s Hand.”
Vettias then purposefully advanced the subject before I had a chance to respond. “As per our plan, we are arriving at Triparadeisus before Antipater due to Cappadocia’s relative close proximity. This will give us time to scout the area, establish semi-witting sources of information and identify targets. Getting there early will also allow us to create discreet ways of communicating and obtain separate quarters.”
“We are to be separated during our time in Triparadeisus?” I interrupted.
“At times, for the reasons I just described,” Vettias retorted with irritation.
“But I am still…you said yourself- I don’t know anything,” I countered.
“That is what our journey is for. I’m going to teach you how to operate on your own and we will have a couple days in Triparadeisus together before we part ways to ensure we always have a way to securely communicate. If you still feel nervous, take heed in that I need you alive in order to complete this mission therefore I am going to do all I can to ensure your safety.”
Vettias had certainly done wonders to build my confidence in his capabilities but the revelation that I would not be under his aegis caused my insecurities to boil to the surface. “I submit to your judgment, whatever you think best.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have the local drunk telling you the size of his dick before this night’s over and then you can show yours to some fortunate flower of the establishment.”
That evening, it was as Vettias had described and I began to understand the art of elicitation. Working on a soft target, I was able to guide the conversation and take him to the point where he willingly told me personal information such as his affairs, his debts, and his overall self-pity. I also fared alright in keeping up my established guise while trying to remember Vettias’ as well. Any transgression of memory on this account was mitigated by my target’s inability to remember what my name was to begin with. This of course was the point of tonight’s exercise- to get me comfortable practicing the principles Vettias was teaching. Vettias reminded me that this drunk had probably told the same story to every regular at the bar over his lifetime but encouraged me on my technique and congratulated me on a good practice session. I found more words later with our women after following Vettias’ lead and bedded a girl one year younger than I to complete the building of my confidence for the evening.
Chapter 21
The next few days repeated themselves as we travelled south from town to town, practicing conversational manipulations along the way. Vettias gave several lessons during the days and set me to task each evening with varying degrees of success. He would evaluate my performances, sometimes from afar, other times as a participant in the conversation. I began relating much of what Vettias taught me to the mental exploitations I underwent from uncle Argos. I thought he would be a successful practitioner of the dark arts but he would probably claim to be just a practitioner of good parenting. As my experience grew and aptitude increased, I believed I was reaching the point where I could return to Ilandra and have Patrochlus and Argos thoroughly subjugated by my cunning. This of course was an exaggeration, but I certainly had come a long way since the surgeon’s tent where Vettias and I first met.
Our steady progression led us into the prosperous satrapy of Cilicia, through the Cilician Gates mountain pass and into its capital, Tarsus, along the Cydnus River. The ancient city was the site of a Royal treasury, which we would have been welcome to draw from several weeks ago but now were considered enemies of the Kings. As we near
ed its gates, Vettias took a serious tone and cautioned me prior to entering.
“We are entering an important city. The presence of the treasury will ensure there are enemies of General Eumenes within. We must stringently follow our guise as Cypriot traders en route to Syria for business. You told me of your friend from youth named Nearchus. That’s as good a Greek name as any for you to be called from now on. I will be your uncle Argos. I choose these names to make it easy for you to remember so you can act as natural as possible while we are here. I plan on staying here for several days as a final lesson before we enter Syria. We will stay in separate dwellings and will rehearse communicating discreetly among enemies. Do you understand?”
“Yes uncle,” I answered with a smirk.
“We’ll start with my quarters and then search out where you will stay,” Vettias instructed. “It will be dark soon and I want a full day with you before we start running around at night, so we’ll retire early and meet first light tomorrow at a location I will determine later.”
“Have you been to this city before?” I asked.
“Yes, during Alexander’s initial conquest. We passed through the Cilician Gates and made camp near the city along the Cydnus River. The river originates from the mountains above and thus its water is markedly colder than the surrounding lakes and streams. Alexander caught pneumonia after bathing in it and was seriously ill for three tense days.”
With Vettias’ instructions conveyed, our horses slowly entered the large city, which had come back to life after the noon heat baked its roads and buildings. Vettias began scanning the horizon for the tallest structures to seek shelter for the evening. Having identified a few promising contenders, we slowly steered our mounts through the throngs of people. When it became too crowded we dismounted so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves and arrived at a three-story building that was clearly a tenement with no rooms available to rent. We quickly moved on to the next building of two stories. The building was indeed an inn, with rooms available as indicated by the sign outside. Vettias met with its owner and was first shown a room on the first floor. Vettias requested availability on the second floor for security reasons, which seemed reasonable to the owner. We entered the second floor room and Vettias methodically made his way to the single window looking out onto the city. The view was unobstructed and faced north, looking out upon a large swath of Tarsus. He shook his head in approval and informed the owner he would take it. The owner nodded and informed us he would take our mounts to his small stable and hurriedly departed.
Vettias waited for the door to close to bring me to the window and explain his intentions for the rest of the day. “This is a good window; it faces the majority of the city with several two- and three-story buildings in a line of sight. I’m going to tie this white scarf around the shutter of this window and it will be up to you to find a room north of here that allows for visibility of it. Once you have found one, reserve the room and tie this purple scarf around the shutter of your window. Once I see your scarf I will remove mine which is the signal to meet me at the statue of Sandon, where we will make plans for the morning. Do you see the monument?” Vettias asked, pointing to a large city square. “It is right there to your left. Try and obtain a room in one of those three buildings to the west of it. You must hurry while we still have daylight. If I am unable to discern where your scarf has been tied, I will leave my scarf on my window. If darkness falls without its removal, meet me here tomorrow and we will try again in the morning. Do you understand these instructions?”
“Yes uncle,” I replied and quickly departed at a brisk pace towards the first building suggested by Vettias. Tarsus was of a similar size to Sardis and its roads and thoroughfares were congested with people, carts, and animals. I made it to the first candidate, a two-story structure with rooms available. I entered the building and was shown a room on the second floor with a window facing north, thus not visible to Vettias’ room. I thanked the owner for his time and declined the room. Moving to Vettias’ second suggestion I quickly realized it was a tenement and began a slow jog to the last of the candidates. It was a three-story structure with available rooms for rent. The sun was beginning to set and I spoke to the proprietor with a sense of urgency that was not reciprocated. When he finally made it to the third floor and unlocked the door, I impatiently walked directly to the window and surveyed my view for Vettias’ signal. His building was one of several of similar height and appearance all in a row and I had difficulty observing the white scarf. Finally spotting it, I purchased the room, hurried the old man out the door and tied my purple scarf outside the window. Vettias’ white scarf now became the object of my fixation while I anxiously awaited its removal as per his instructions. It remained for an extended period of time until I saw it finally removed. Thus, with our first discreet communication executed, I made a hurried rush for the statue of Sandon.
The city square was spacious and many Hellenistic influences could be seen throughout: from its temple to Sandon, chief god of the ancient Cilician pantheon; to its fountain; to its columned building facades in the Doric style. My nascent instincts concluded Vettias chose our place of encounter well due to the square’s high level of foot traffic- making it an ideal location to hide in plain sight and briefly meet someone in the open. Sandon had been equated with the ancient god Marduk by the eastern religions and the Greeks had determined Sandon was the Cilician interpretation of Heracles. The local population appeared to embrace the Greek equation, especially since Alexander’s conquest, with many references to the Argead patriarch throughout the monument square.
My assessment of the surroundings was cut short by the appearance of Vettias, who congratulated me on my successful execution of his instructions. “Going forward, the white scarf will prompt a meeting between us here. At daybreak I will hang a different coloured scarf to identify where we will hold our morning meeting. Tomorrow it will be the white one again. You will hang your purple scarf to signify you received the message and wait for me to remove mine, signalling I am departing to meet you. At that point you will remove yours and depart as well. Tomorrow morning we will conduct this process and meet back here at daybreak, where I will introduce several principles throughout the day to ensure you can manoeuvre safely within a hostile environment. Tonight I want you to return to your room and get some sleep. Do you have any questions?”
“Not yet uncle,” I replied as Vettias abruptly, turned around, and disappeared into the throng of people. Our meeting lasted no longer than two minutes and went completely unnoticed by the crowd around us. Vettias’ teachings were accelerating my thoughts so completely that my body felt as exhausted as it did back on the royal road marching with sarissa in hand. I returned to my room as I was told, and fell to sleep early that evening.
Chapter 22
My nervous energy caused me to wake an hour before the first cock crowed for fear of missing the signal at the appointed hour. I lay in bed staring at my room’s ceiling, scrutinizing every crack and water stain in the cheap mortar. My thoughts settled on Stephanos for a time and what he and the lochos were doing. Since I believed Stephanos superior to me in many ways, I thought him better suited to the task I now found myself set upon and felt guilty that Vettias chose me without meeting him first. I also thought of Nearchus and how many probably wished I had died in his stead. This stream of conscious led me to think Nearchus and Stephanos would have been like brothers had they known each other. They were better meant for companionship than I was with either of them. My thoughts now brought me to the familiar realm of insecurity and self-doubt. I questioned the sanity of the Fates since I felt I didn’t deserve to be the one still alive, let alone chosen by a great man like Vettias. Despite all these questions raising my anxiety, I dozed off for what felt like an hour but was probably more like sixty seconds. I shot out of sleep as soon as I recognized my dream-like state, fearing I had overslept the appointed time. Dawn was still absent but I got up and took a more uncomfortable position in a ch
air by the window to mitigate the chance I would fail Vettias by sleeping through his signal. It is always darkest just before sunrise and I sat motionless staring out into a black, cloudless sky enveloping the city below me like a dark blanket. The calm of night was only mildly interrupted with the bark of a dog, the flicker of a lamp, or the shadowy scampering of intermittent people wading through the dark alleys with increased vigour as if they felt unprotected without the sun- like a mouse in an open field.
I caught myself dozing on and off for the remainder of the night until the black began ceding its dominance to lighter shades of greys, before the sun’s advance guard cleared the horizon, announcing its imminent arrival with reds and oranges. Several roosters now heralded the procession of colour, which I deduced had woken Vettias if he had not already risen. The city’s traffic began picking up by the time the yellow body crested into the sky and I sat focused on Vettias’ window like a cat stalking prey. Finally a glint of flowing white materialized and I immediately took my purple scarf, which I had been clutching for the past hour, and tied it around my shutter, signalling my receipt of the message. I continued watching Vettias’ window with an anticipatory grin as he removed his scarf thus completing our clandestine conversation. I quickly untied mine and hurried down to Tarsus’ patron deity for my daily lesson.
By the Sword Page 20
