Alexander

by H A CULLEY

  Alexander estimated that there were less than five hundred of them, but they would be the tradesmen and others who lived and worked in the city. There would be others who farmed the land, tended the vineyards and went out to sea to fish. Even so he would be surprised if there more than one to two thousand Taulanti left of military age. Of course, that would change in the next few years as the present youths grew up and became men. It was difficult to estimate their numbers but, from what he had seen during their ride through the filthy streets there must be at least ten to fifteen thousand of them; still not enough to be a danger to either Dardania or Epirus, which lay to the south of them. He never even considered that they would pose any sort of threat to Macedon.

  Alexander, Taulus and Hephaestion dismounted in front of the poor excuse for a palace and followed Glaucias and his two companions through the gap in the middle of the armed men whilst the rest remained mounted. King Pleuratus sat on a chair at the top of the wooden steps leading up to the great double doors of the palace. He was alone until Glaucias and the two youths went and stood behind him. Alexander thought it strange that none of the adult men were there as his advisors but came to the conclusion, correctly as it happened, that Glaucias had got rid of them. Pleuratus remained as a figurehead but the youths and young men now held the real power under Glaucias’ leadership. It was a position that was unassailable and he knew that Taulas was doomed if he stayed here.

  Pleuratus wept when he saw Taulas and got shakily to his feet, assisted by Glaucias, so that he could embrace his eldest son.

  ‘You should never have come, my son. Glaucias will kill you. Get out of here.’ He whispered softly in his ear, then he held his son by his shoulders at arm’s length.

  ‘Welcome, Taulus; and you too Prince Alexander. I never thought to see you again, my son, and I rejoice that you have come to visit your father before I die.’ The king had deliberately used the word ‘visit’ to indicate to Glaucias that he didn’t expect Taulas to stay. He wasn’t certain that the ploy would work: Glaucias might still decide to kill Taulas just to make sure that he didn’t challenge him for the throne in the future.

  Taulas, for his part, was sensible enough to realise that his dream of returning home to become his father’s heir had been no more than a childish fantasy. Whatever his birth, Glaucias was king in all but name.

  ‘Father, I had to see you one last time and I most grateful to Prince Alexander for bringing me. I only wish that Sirrus had been able to come with us. Thank you for your welcome. I hope that we will be able to stay a few days before we need to return to Macedon.’

  At that Glaucias relaxed. He had been wondering how he could dispose of his cousin quietly. Alexander’s presence was a complication; he certainly didn’t want a war with Macedon – not yet at any rate. He had come to the conclusion that a slow acting poison in Taulas’ wine might be the best solution. He wasn’t fooled by the exchange between father and son and, although Taulas might have decided that retreat was the most sensible course of action in the present circumstances, he could easily return with an army to claim his birthright in the future.

  However, even if he did manage to kill him without starting a war, there was still Taulas’ younger brother, Sirrus, to think about. He might only be twelve at the moment but, by the time that Glaucias’ youths and boys had grown up enough to become warriors, he would be a man. He sensed that Taulas’ hunger for power wasn’t great enough for him to risk his life but Sirrus was an unknown quantity. On balance he decided that the benefits gained by poisoning Taulas were outweighed by the risks involved.

  -X-

  After two months Iphitos patience was wearing extremely thin. He still hadn’t managed to gain an audience with Alexander, or even with Cleitus. Oh, he had been looked after well enough and Dardanian officers had done their best to keep him amused by taking him hunting, but no-one would explain to him why he was being kept waiting. All they would say was that Alexander was still furious with his father and wasn’t yet ready to discuss the possibility of reconciliation.

  Fortunately Iphitos was out hunting again when Alexander returned. He told Cleitus about their reception at Epidamnos; he would have heard it from the officer in charge of the escort in any case.

  ‘So Taulus will remain with you now?’

  ‘Yes, only a quick death awaits him if he returns at some stage in the future.’

  ‘Unless it is at the head of any army. The Taulanti aren’t very strong militarily.’

  ‘Would you give him one?’

  ‘No, that would worry the other Illyrian tribes. They would think I was trying recreate the unified kingdom of my father, Bardylis.’

  ‘And you have no ambitions in that direction?’

  ‘If I had I would hardly tell you!’ He grinned to rob his response of any offence. ‘No, I’m happy enough with the status quo.’

  Alexander knew instinctively that Cleitus was lying. He had even named his eldest son Bardylis in honour of the first king of a united Illyria. However, Macedon would never permit him, or anyone else, to create such a powerful country on its northern border. In the past the Illyrians had been a constant threat, often invading Northern Macedon and even holding on to conquered territory until Philip had taken it back. Philip’s uncle had died at the hands of the Illyrians. No, any attempt to re-unite the country would inevitably lead to war.

  ‘No, I was wondering if you or your father would lend him enough troops to put a friend on the throne of the Taulanti,’ Cleitus continued, watching Alexander’s face carefully for his reaction to the idea.

  ‘What would that gain us? Dardania is an ally and the rest of Illyria poses no danger to us. We’re happy to let sleeping dogs lie,’ replied, keeping his expression deadpan.

  ‘Good! Now to another matter. I’m relieved that you have returned at long last. Your father’s emissary, a young man called Iphitos, has been kicking his heels waiting for you for most of the time that you’ve been away. It seems that Philip is eager to be reconciled with his son.’

  When Iphitos was ushered in to their presence Alexander gave him a sour look.

  ‘If he wants to be reconciled he can come and apologise in person,’ Alexander told him belligerently.

  ‘You haven’t heard then?’ Iphitos replied, ignoring the prince’s rudeness in not greeting him first.

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘Athens and much of Attica have been plotting with Corinth, Thebes and the Boeotians to drive your father out of Thessaly. He is busy assembling an army to confront this Ant-Macedonian Alliance, as it’s calling itself. He wants you by his side when the time comes.’

  ‘But we’ve made peace with Thebes and the Boeotians as part of the treaty signed at the end of the Sacred War.’

  ‘Never trust a Theban.’

  ‘I see. And is my father minded to give me a command in the coming campaign, or does he still think of me as a small boy still wet behind the ears?’

  The question was unexpected and it put Iphitos in something of a quandary. If he confessed that Philip had only told him to bring his son back to Pella he’d risk the youth digging his heels in and staying where he was. If he lied and said that Philip was thinking of giving him some sort major role in the army without being specific and then Philip denied it, Alexander would never forgive him. He compromised.

  ‘By saying that he wants you by his side, he doesn’t mean as an observer or his aide. He knows how well you did in the Strymon Valley and in driving out the Dacians. I’m certain that he has some sort of command planned for you, but I don’t know what it is.’

  ‘Hmm, you had better be right, Iphitos. If you are lying to me just to get me to come back to Pella with you, you will regret it. In fact you would do better to stay here in your home country where I can’t get my hands on you.’

  ‘I left Illyria when I was thirteen and my elder brother disowned me when my father died. I am a Macedonian now and I am completely loyal to Philip and to you as his heir, kyrios.’

&nbs
p; Alexander looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

  ‘I’d never doubt your loyalty to my father. You’re a great asset to him as his spymaster, chief engineer and master artilleryman. These are skills I prize highly as well.’

  Alexander still wasn’t so convinced about his father’s plans for him though. Before he could say anything else Iphitos decided that there was other piece of news that he had better get out of the way.

  ‘Thank you, kyrios. There is something else that you should know. It’s not good news, I fear.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Your mother, Queen Olympias, is still with her brother Alexandros in Epirus and has refused to return to Pella whilst Cleopatra Eurydice is still there.’

  ‘Get on with it, man. I know all this; what’s the bad news?’

  ‘King Philip had divorced your mother.’

  ‘I see.’

  If Iphitos was expecting a display of rage he didn’t get one. Alexander was very quiet for a moment. Then he quietly smiled. He loved his mother but he was well aware that she would always try to control him. He would miss her company but he was getting beyond the stage now when he needed her comfort or advice; he was well aware that they thought differently about many issues. It wouldn’t have been his choice for her to become an exile but there were advantages for him in the present situation. Once of them would be that Philip would feel guilty about the divorce when he saw his son again and that was something that Alexander could make use of.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not all. There is a strong rumour that Cleopatra has morning sickness. She may well be pregnant.’

  Chapter Six – The Battle of Chaeronea

  339 BC

  Philip had been less than pleased when Iphitos told him that Alexander had been so upset about the divorce of his mother that he had only agreed to be reconciled with his father on condition that he be given a worthwhile command for the coming campaign. It wasn’t the whole truth but it was near enough.

  The meeting between father and son was somewhat stiff and formal and Alexander failed to congratulate Philip on fathering another child. But at least it meant that they were now back on speaking terms. Alexander wisely left the subject of the coming campaign against Athens, Thebes and Corinth until their next meeting when Parmenion and the other strategoi were present. Alexander scowled when he saw that Attalus was present but he didn’t say anything. He did give Iphitos a friendly nod however.

  ‘We will need to divide the army into three wings to cross the mountains at the southern end of Thessaly,’ Philip was saying. ‘Parmenion will command one and I another with Attalus as my second-in-command. Iphitos you had better come with me.’

  He paused and looked across at his son, biting his lip and looking for all the world as if what he was about to say was against his better judgement. However, both Parmenion and Iphitos had urged it on him and Antipater had supported them, assuring Philip that he would stop his son from making any mistakes.

  ‘Alexander, you will command the third wing with Antipater. You will be in nominal command but Antipater will be there to approve your decisions.’

  For a long moment there was silence in the room, then Alexander exhaled noisily.

  ‘I’m sorry father but that won’t work. Either I have command or I don’t. You of all people should know that speed in making the right decisions during a battle is vital. You don’t have time for a discussion before issuing orders or it will be a disaster. I can’t accept under these conditions.’

  There was another silence whilst Philip fought to control his temper.

  ‘He’s right, basileus; you know he is. This isn’t what we discussed.’ Parmenion broke the deathly silence before Philip could explode.

  This time Philip glared at Parmenion.

  ‘Be very careful strategos, you are an excellent commander and you have served me well but you are not irreplaceable.’

  ‘Very well; I’m getting to old for campaigning anyway. If you want me to hand over my command and spend the rest of my days on my estates with my wife, I won’t object.’

  The two men stared at each other. It was true that Parmenion was now sixty one but he was still fitter than many men ten or fifteen years younger than him. Both knew too that none of the other strategoi, least of all Attalus, had his strategic knowledge or his tactical ability.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Parmenion. Both of us know that you would be bored rigid leading the life of a landowner. Besides I need you.’ He sighed. ‘Very well. Alexander you will be in command with Antipater as your deputy. He can provide advice when you need it; make sure you use him.’

  He turned his attention to the sand model of the country around Thermopylae and Mount Callidromos behind it.

  ‘ Alexander, Philomedes will guide your wing of the army up the side of Mount Callidromos and down into the wide valley of the River Kephisos. You then follow this to Elatea in Boeotia. This will be the rendezvous point for the whole army. Parmenion, Theon will take you along the old path around the Gates of Fire to the coast beyond. You will then take coast road to Elatea. Enyo will take my wing over the mountain following paths she says are just about passable into Phocis. I only hope she is correct. As the Phocians are now our allies I don’t anticipate any problem travelling down to Elatea through their country. Iphitos, you will come with me as this route seems the easiest for your katapeltikons, once we are over the mountains that is. Once we reach Elatea we will camp there for the winter and use the time to train the army. Any questions? No? Good.’

  -X-

  Alexander rode with Iphitos and his adopted son, Philomedes, towards Chaeronea where the army of the Anti-Macedonian Alliance were reportedly beginning to arrive. Behind him rode his companions, Nearchos, Cassander, Taulas, Nicanor, Ptolemy, Marsyas, Erigyios, Harpalus, Leonnatus and Hephaestion. These had been the boys who had been with him at the Gardens of Midas. They were now all young men of seventeen or eighteen and had become his unofficial bodyguard. The King’s Companions and three thousand other Macedonian cavalry, including their allies, had set out with them, but they kicked up such a cloud of dust that Alexander had told them to wait for him a few miles back from Chaeronea.

  Iphitos’ daughter, Enyo, and her lover, Theon, were watching the arrival of the enemy from their vantage point on the slopes of Mount Akontian across the plain from the city when Alexander and Iphitos joined them. From there the prospective battlefield lay before them with the River Cephissus running from north-west to south east immediately below them. The plain itself was level, apart from one small hill near the river a mile or so away. The plain itself extended for a mile and a half at its narrowest point across to the line of mountains which ran parallel to the river. The acropolis in the middle of the city stood on a spur jutting out from the mountains called the Petramos.

  ‘What’s been happening, Enyo?’

  ‘More and more men have been arriving down the Kerata Pass,’ she told the new arrivals after she and Theon had greeted Alexander respectfully. She pointed to the steep track that ran down through the mountains about four miles across the plain from their observation point. A large camp was being set up where the pass emerged onto the plain. Iphitos studied the camp for a minute before turning to Alexander.

  ‘Can I suggest, kyrios, that you lead a feint attack to panic them and we will try and get an estimate of numbers when they react?’

  Alexander nodded and sent Nearchos and Erigios back to call the cavalry forward, telling them to come on at a walk so as to raise as little dust as possible. He didn’t want the enemy to be warned of their presence until they were ready. In the event it couldn’t have gone better.

  The Thracian light cavalry swept forward as a screen, throwing their two spears at whatever targets presented themselves without getting too close to the enemy, and then withdrew. The two epihipparchia of companions came next and cut down the easy targets, avoiding any serious fighting. Finally the two epihipparchia from Parmenion’s and Antipater’s armies followed up, rout
ing those who were making an organised attempt to pursue them.

  Throughout the brief skirmishes Enyo tried to estimate the numbers of cavalry, Theon the peltasts and Philomedes the light spearmen. Iphitos concentrated on the hoplites and any sign of artillery. Whilst he was counting Iphitos prayed to Zeus that Enyo’s brother, Georgios, who was serving in the Companion Cavalry, would be safe.

  The order to retreat had to be sounded more than once to remind everyone of their orders, but the cavalry withdrew with no more than a few of their men left lying dead on the ground. The rough estimates were that they would be facing about eight hundred cavalry, over thirty five thousand hoplites, five thousand light spearmen and four thousand peltasts, mainly archers. There was no sign of any artillery. That gave a total of forty five thousand, rather less than Philip had feared, unless there were more still to arrive. If they were awaiting reinforcements, a quick attack would be sensible. The other thing he had noted was the Sacred Band of Thebes with their distinctive shields portraying a man and a youth in armour standing beside one another.

  -X-

  Alexander sat on Bucephalus with his personal guard of companions around him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Laomedon chewing his lip nervously and Harpalus looking as if he was about to be sick. He couldn’t see the rest, except Hephaestion to his right who seemed to be unaffected by the prospect of battle. He shrugged; every one of them had their own personal demons to deal with at times like this. The worst part was waiting.

  Philip had re-organised the army and Alexander had been given command of the cavalry as well as the phalanx on the left flank, although Antipater would take charge of it when Alexander took the cavalry into action. Evidently watching his son train his men over the winter had convinced Philip that Alexander could be trusted with both tasks. Much depended on him and his timing.