By the Sword

by Christian Kachel

  My thoughts now focused on finding Vettias and rejoining what remained of our army to receive care for our wounds. All vestiges of authority I had known over the past year were now shattered, and I felt naked without the comfort of feeling a part of something greater than myself. We remained hidden under the dead elephant for another hour before all remnants of Antigonus’ army had moved on from the field in pursuit of Eumenes.

  “We should have stayed and fought like soldiers. Instead we ran like cowards,” Stephanos mumbled sullenly. “What would the Spartans think of us? Neokles pulled me away and held off the enemy so that I could escape. I let him. He no doubt walks among the amber grains of Elysium, with all others who fought admirably. He deserves that honour. What honour has the living earned?”

  “Now who pities themselves unnecessarily?” I retorted after Stephanos took a reflective pause. “Who fought more admirably? The phalangite who took an arrow and died before the battle is joined? Or a phalangite in the fourth position who held his ground and butchered our enemies by the dozen? A phalangite who, by the end of the battle, was in the first position and was so covered in his own blood that he resembled a creature of the underworld more so than a man? There is no question Neokles is a hero and will be remembered as such, but do not take away from your own herculean effort on this day. There is no doubt you will be made an officer in General Eumenes’ reconstituted army.”

  “Your praise of me is too kind and your optimism for the future is too foolish. We are beaten. There is no army to reconstitute. Those that survived have been absorbed into General Antigonus’ war machine. Whereas before today, General Eumenes was an outlaw with an army, now he is just an outlaw- if he’s even still alive. The antagonists of my father and brother have won the day. I will have to live under their rule knowing I fled when facing them in open combat.”

  “My praise of you is merited and my assessment of our future prospects is based on the knowledge that there are larger forces at work. There is more at stake than which usurping general holds Regency over the Kings.” I stopped myself before I divulged too much but luckily Stephanos was too introverted in his own depressed world at that moment to pay attention. As we sat there, deciding whether it was safe to depart, a large contingent of cavalry raced towards the battlefield. They flew no banners and I assumed they were aligned with Antigonus and continued hiding. They drew closer to Stephanos and I, heightening my fears we would be found. As they neared I began recognizing faces within the cavalry squadron. I stood up and recognized General Eumenes himself at the front of the detachment. Realizing I was amongst allies, I nudged Stephanos to stand up and we were noticed by several of the cavalrymen.

  “You there!” one of the officers yelled out to us. “Where does thy swear allegiance?”

  “To General Eumenes, the true protector of the Argead Kings!” I exclaimed. The officer looked to his colleagues, who shook their heads, indicating they did not know whether to believe us or not.

  “Which unit do you serve?” the officer interrogated.

  “We proudly serve under Strategos Androkles, within the Pydna Syntagma led by Lykos, serving under Lochagos Croesus!”

  “I vouch for these phalangites!” a familiar voice now yelled out, angling its way towards the site of questioning. My spirits were raised as I saw Vettias make his way towards us atop a horse and looking down at me with a proud smile. “Look at these two! Is there any doubt they have not contributed to our cause and served General Eumenes honourably? How much blood have you shed on this day?” Vettias yelled as he chided the cavalry officer.

  “Forgive me sir, but in light of Apollonides’ treachery, no one can be trusted.”

  “Provide them mounts,” Vettias instructed, to which the cavalry officer complied. Stephanos and I mounted the provided horses while the contingent dismounted and began gathering the dead into two large makeshift pyres. “Davos, post!” Vettias shouted. “Escort these two to the nearest settlement to receive care from a surgeon. Give them three days’ rest and bring them to the rally point, understood?” Davos nodded and led us away from the battlefield while the cavalry contingent continued their work in preparation of honouring the war dead. In this way, Eumenes had denied Antigonus the honour of performing this sacred act- usually reserved for the victors of a battle. His gesture stated for all to witness that though he had been beaten through the treachery of a subordinate, his will had not been extinguished. As the three of us galloped away, it was clear our struggle with Antigonus was not over.

  Chapter 42

  We followed Davos north at a deliberate pace. The rush of battle had departed us, and our wounds increasingly made their presence known. Each stride of my mount educed a shot of sting in the several open cuts I bore on my sides, arms, legs and face. My puncture wound on my left arm emanated a persistent throb of pain throughout our ride. I looked over to Stephanos, who looked as though he needed all his remaining strength and consciousness to stay atop the animal. He maintained an expressionless stare down at the mane of the horse for the duration of our journey. A terrible thirst now came over me and I motioned for Davos to stop and give us a drink from his bladder of water. After two hours teetering along the edge of consciousness and coma, our debilitated party arrived at a small settlement.

  Davos made arrangements for us to reserve a dank room with two rotted wooden slabs serving as beds. Stephanos and I collapsed onto them while Davos departed to find a surgeon. I went in and out of consciousness for the next hour. Each time I fell to sleep I was brought back to the battle field- to the exact moment when our ranks collapsed and a dozen spear points came raining down on me. Each point had a hideous face that was screaming at me while projecting blood. All I could do was cower on the ground with only my bare hands for protection. As the crazed spear points came striking in to deliver their death blow, I would startle awake with a mild yell. I looked over to find Stephanos unconscious but breathing, and I lay back down wondering what was keeping Davos. This unpleasant routine continued several more times until the last time I awoke in a cold sweat into the arms of Davos and what appeared to be a medical attendant. The stranger’s simple appearance did not inspire my confidence in his abilities, however. He looked to be about seventy, with wrinkled skin and several teeth missing. Davos held me down as I observed the old man stitching an open gash in my side. I looked over to see Stephanos naked and asleep with several sets of stitches throughout his body.

  “Your friend will be alright,” Davos reassured me after noticing my concern. “He’s lucky we got him help when we did. He’s lost a lot of blood. He may not be able to ride with us in three days’ time.”

  “We’re not leaving him, that is final,” I snapped, evoking an amused smile from my older and wiser colleague. I lay back down and felt the jab of the surgeon’s stitching needle. “Watch what you’re doing old man!” I hissed after wincing from its painful prick.

  “Just hold still boy,” he replied, seemingly unphased by my order. “I’ve got a lot more work to do and I don’t want you coming apart at the seams.”

  Davos provided me some strong wine and I eventually fell back to my nightmares. The recurring dream was so tangible it deceived my mind into believing I was on a perpetual battlefield, always on the losing side, and always being ran through by screaming spear points. I startled awake each time, thanking the Gods it was just a dream. It was evening now and Stephanos lay asleep in his bed while Davos slept on a flimsy chair with a bottle of wine on the ground beside him.

  A persistent fear lingered over me and I felt as though the decayed door to our room would fly open at any moment- ushering in phalangites of Antigonus’ army carrying screaming spears echoing the cries of the battlefield. I felt physically and mentally weak. I felt as though Agathon would cut me in two had I reported to his formation of recruits in my current pathetic state. Visions of my former tormentor floated through my mind’s eye, scolding me to stop feeling sorry for myself. After ashamedly listening to him berate my masculinity, I
was finally motivated to get out of bed, splash water on my face, and take another drink from Davos’ jug of wine.

  “You’re awake,” he stated behind half-closed eyelids. “You should continue to sleep. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  “I’m through sleeping for now, there’s nothing but death waiting for me on the other side.”

  “Reliving the battle? Sometimes that can’t be helped. It looked like the two of you were in the middle of a real butchery back there. Anything you want to talk about? Sometimes it helps to speak to someone familiar with what you are going through.”

  “You act as though Hades himself could not force you to show weakness or fear- as if you could rip a suckling babe from his mother and cast him into the chasm of Mount Taygetos like the Spartans.” I was admitting to Davos that he was better suited for this business and thought it a waste of his time to be sitting here with Stephanos and me.

  “It gets easier with time. You do have to possess a particular constitution but I’ve seen nothing in you that would preclude your future success in this business. The taste of alcohol is not appetizing to children. Through maturity and the emulation of those they revere, alcohol becomes pleasant to the drinker. It will get easier the more you learn from Vettias and work with me. Now, this phalangite over here, who is he?”

  “He is my closest confidant. A friend from my first day of recruitment.”

  “Can he be trusted?” Davos inquired.

  “He can indeed. However, he knows nothing of The Hand.”

  “He was in pretty bad shape. It looks like he’ll live, but we have three days hard riding starting tomorrow. General Eumenes will retreat to the mountain fortress at Nora in eastern Cappadocia. He will remain there with his closest supporters and will release the majority of his surviving army until events are more favourable. Vettias believes The Hand should focus its efforts within the court of Antipater in Pella. His age and deteriorating health may provide an opening to further our goals and enable General Eumenes to depart the Nora fortress. Are you going to be ready to depart tomorrow morning?”

  I nodded, took another drink of wine and fell back to sleep for the remainder of the evening. Father was waiting for me, sitting at the foot of my meagre cot.

  “Now nothing can prevent me from voicing the intense pride I have in my son. Even you will relent and confess that your actions in defence of your army have been noble. Now all that is left for my redemption is for you to save that girl.”

  “Yes father, but she is thousands of miles away from me. There’s nothing I can do in this condition.”

  “The afterlife puts the concept of time in perspective. I’ve no doubt you will accomplish all I know you to be capable of. You’ve already achieved so much and I am immensely proud of the man you’ve become. Now you must wake and continue on your noble path.” I woke to see Stephanos limping around our small room gathering his clothes.

  “Where’s Davos,” I asked.

  “He is readying our mounts. Who is he? Why are we here? Why is he helping us?”

  He’s an assistant to the battle staff. He was assigned to look after us in recognition of my efforts in Syria. He is to escort us to General Eumenes’ encampment. Apparently it is in an impregnable fortress somewhere in Nora, Cappadocia. It is a three days’ ride from here. Do you think you are up to it?”

  “I’ll be able to keep up. I would rather lose fighting for a cause that is just than claim victory supporting a man who cares nothing for Greece. If General Eumenes chooses to continue fighting our enemies, then I will do all I can to assist him.”

  Our journey was easy enough through Cappadocia, with the three of us keeping low profiles due to our continuing outlaw status. As we approached the mountainous retreat at Nora, Davos pointed to a craggy summit with a faint walled structure chiselled out of the rock. A light smoke could be seen slowly billowing from the fortress, signalling its occupancy. Its small size belied its impressive stores of water and grain, but it was clear no sizeable force could reside there for any period of time.

  We followed the winding path up the mountain before arriving at the thick gates of the southern wall. Several men stood atop its ramparts looking down on us with bows and arrows at the ready. The ancient citadel looked to have been there for centuries and its state of decay pointed to decades of vacancy. Its height atop the mountain, the narrow path leading to its gates, and its ability to house large amounts of food and water, allowed the stronghold to repel a foe of any size with only limited manpower. Davos announced our presence to the sentries, prompting the massive doors to lurch open.

  We entered the bastion to find a crowded sea of activity as a small contingent of our once great army toiled to fix Nora’s dilapidated construction and build new structures to house the large amount of horses occupying the cramped space. Many others were efficiently removing the imposing accumulation of horse dung to guard against an outbreak of disease. A sentry escorted us to a simple building within the fortress that now served as a command headquarters. A sarissa stood upright on top of the headquarters with a freshly severed head sitting on its point. Davos explained that General Eumenes not only buried our war dead but also managed to track down and murder the traitor Apollonides, whose head now resided atop the spear.

  The headquarters’ guard element opened the door and took custody of us as we entered to find several officers of the battle staff flanking General Eumenes while standing over a large map of Cappadocia.

  “These three have just arrived and claim to be members of our army,” the sentry announced.

  “That will be all, thank you,” Vettias instructed the guard while sitting in the corner of the small room. General Eumenes looked up at the three of us, noticing the poor physical shape Stephanos and I were in. Recognizing me, he walked over and embraced us.

  “Gentlemen, these two are but thousands of phalangites that fought valiantly for our cause and yet return to this desolate fortress despite their severe injuries. If I had a full army of these devoted young men, our current situation would be very different. What manner of wealth do they have waiting for them here in this shit hole? What comforts and luxuries are to be found here that these two cannot obtain in the outside world? What future reward is guaranteed to them for risking life and limb to serve with outlaws? This is the calibre of men that is required to defeat our enemies and ensure the Argeads take their rightful place on the throne of Alexander.”

  Receiving such high and unsolicited praise from General Eumenes himself made Stephanos and I feel quite uncomfortable. I struggled to keep eye contact with all in the room and stood stoically during our leader’s speech. Upon his conclusion, I felt my new persona would be compelled to say something competent within the presence of such an impressive group of men.

  “Your praise is too kind sir. We have done our duty in support of this army and its goal of protecting the true Argead successors to the throne. Far better men did the same or more who now lay dead for a cause greater than themselves. Your resolve to continue leading us in this noble endeavour has inspired us to continue to serve this army.”

  I ended my response there, satisfied my words had their intended effect. Vettias gave me a nod and General Eumenes appeared pleased. “Sentry! Show these two to the infirmary so their wounds can be properly attended. Come see me when you are well, understand?”

  “Yes sir,” I replied as we were led out.

  The infirmary occupied a small warehouse within the grounds and was sparsely filled with people nursing relatively minor injuries. This spoke to how many of our army had perished and how few actually made it to our stronghold. An attendant looked very surprised at the state Stephanos and I were in and eagerly brought us to a cot for examination. He seemed displeased with the quality of work that had been done on us by the decrepit old man and hurried to find the head surgeon.

  “Andrikos! Is that you?” a familiar voice rang out from across the room. I looked up to see Philotheos’ face beaming at the opportunit
y to work on real war wounds from someone he knew since a recruit. After gently embracing, he examined our injuries and became agitated. “What dirt farmer did this to you?” he demanded, touching a particularly gruesome gash on Stephanos’ side that was haphazardly stitched by the old man. “You’re coming apart at the seams, kid. We’re going to do something about this immediately,” he diagnosed, while his attendants ran around furiously making surgical preparations. We were plied with strong wine and given a willow bark mixture that tasted horrid, but succeeded in numbing the pain while the surgeons re-stitched our wounds and properly dressed them. We were ordered to remain on our cots for the next week to allow our injuries to heal properly.

  During this time Davos wandered in and out of the infirmary to check on me, and Vettias came to visit each day with a disposition of a concerned father. My thoughts settled on my family for a time, and I began to question whether I had made the right decision returning to such a futile situation. I also thought of Mara. She was thousands of miles away from me in Persia and my stomach ached at the thought of leaving her in Hyllos’ custody. I reaffirmed my personal vow to rescue her there on that flimsy cot, atop a rocky crag, in the middle of Cappadocian mountain ranges.

  On one morning I woke to find Vettias sitting at my side. He smiled after my eyes settled on his and put his hand on my head. “How are we feeling, hero?”