by H A CULLEY
Memnon agreed and Theon was cut free. He clambered over onto the Macedonian galley and was immediately embraced by a sobbing Enyo. They were married three days later.
Chapter Thirteen – The Whirlwind Strikes
335 BC
When he reflected on the last four years, Philomedes still didn’t understand how he had been transformed from a common Thessalian goat boy into the aide of the King of Macedon. It all seemed to be so unreal and sometimes he expected to wake up and find himself back on the slopes of Mount Callidromus with his goats. However, he reflected, many of the ancestors of the present noble families of Macedon had been goatherds; some not that long ago.
His real worry was that Alexander would want to replace him with some scion of the nobility. He was eighteen now and would probably be packed off to be a hoplite, or perhaps even a cavalryman if he was lucky, in the near future. He knew that, as Iphitos’ adopted son, he might even by fortunate enough to be invited to join the King’s Companions, like his cousin Georgios, another of Iphitos’ adopted sons. So when Alexander sent for him and he found a fresh faced boy of about fourteen or fifteen with the king he knew that his worst fears were about to be realised.
‘Philomedes, this is Hector, Parmenion’s youngest son. He will be taking over from you as my aide just as soon as you have briefed him on his duties. You have done a good job and I’ll be sorry to lose you, but I have something more important for you to do. I’ve already told Hector that he’ll have a hard job filling your shoes. Right, take him away and start briefing him; I want you back here tomorrow evening and I’ll explain then what I want you to do next.’
Philomedes liked Hector instantly. Although he was a youngest son, he wasn’t a spoiled brat, like some. He was keen to learn and seemed in awe of Philomedes, which the latter found amusing, given their very different childhoods. Philomedes was acquainted with both Philotas and Nicanor, Parmenion’s other sons, and knew that they were very capable officers, but ambitious ones. Hector wasn’t like that. He was a genuinely nice boy who wasn’t about to use his new appointment for his own advantage. He even treated Alexander’s personal slaves and servants with courtesy.
Philomedes reported back to Alexander the following evening feeling somewhat apprehensive about the future, but also a little excited.
‘Sit down, Philomedes. Is Hector settling in alright?’
The youth was taken aback. He had never been invited to sit in Alexander’s presence before. He sat down on the stool indicated and licked his lips nervously.
‘First of all I want you to become one of my Companions. Your service to me as an aide deserves such a reward and I trust you. I know that you will continue to serve me loyally, even though you’re a Thessalian by birth and Thessaly have refused to accept me as Archon. Unfortunately, they aren’t the only problem. Athens, Thebes and the other Greek city states have also failed to acknowledge me as Hegemon. I need to impose my will on them without further delay.’
He paused and paced up and down for a few moments, lost in thought. Philomedes watched the short, rather stocky figure who always seemed to radiate energy and purpose. It was that, and his charisma, that made people follow him. Alexander was only twenty one, three years older than he was, but he seemed so much more mature to his former aide.
‘I plan to leave Pella in a week or so and head for Thessaly. The city-states that make up the federation provide a third of my army and I have to convince them to accept me as Archon before I do anything else. I need to travel fast and so I’ll take my Companions and the rest of the cavalry I have here in Pella. The infantry can follow on as fast as they can. Unfortunately Iphitos is in Anatolia with Parmenion so Kleandros will be my chief engineer. I’m sending him ahead to reconnoitre the route and deal with any obstacles, choose overnight camp sites and generally make sure that the army can move as swiftly as possible. He’ll have a hipparchia of Thracian light cavalry with him to act as labourers as necessary, but I want to give him a personal bodyguard as well. It’s not that I don’t trust the Thracians but I would be happier if he had other troops with him in addition. They can also protect the Thracians when they are working. Now, I could just detail any cavalry ilium to accompany him and his engineering officers, but I want someone I know I can depend on in command of them. That man is you.’
Philomedes was dumbstruck. He didn’t understand what Alexander had just said. Did that mean he was being made an Iliarch?
‘I’m forming a new ilium of picked men so you won’t have the problem of a group of tetrachoi who all think that they should have been promoted instead of you.’
He smiled at Philomedes and the king’s evident confidence in him made the youth forget the doubts he was beginning to harbour about being given such a responsibility.
‘The men will all be young but the tetrachoi will be experienced veterans, promoted especially for this new ilium. They aren’t part of a larger unit so this is an independent command; you’ll only report to Kleandros. Like you, he wasn’t born in Macedon, he’s an Illyrian but he’s served my father faithfully since he was a boy and he’s been trained by Iphitos so he knows his job. I’m sure you’ll get on well. You had better go and get some sleep now. Tomorrow go and see Demetrius; he’s have a new uniform ready for you. Then go and find Kleandros and he’ll tell you more.’
‘Than you, basileus. I’m most grateful for the trust you are placing in me; I won’t let you down.’
‘I know you won’t. I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t have faith in you. Anything else?’
‘Well, um. Where do I find this ilium of mine?’
Alexander laughed. ‘Yes, you probably do need to know that. They have all been told to assemble at the fort north of Pella by midday tomorrow. It’s up to you to get to know them and sort them out into tetrachia. Goodbye and good luck, Philomedes. I’ll see you on the road to Thessaly.’
-X-
Philomedes looked down at the expectant men staring up at him as he stood on the parapet above them, feeling a little self-conscious in the new helmet whose plume proclaimed his rank.
‘Good afternoon, men. ‘I’m Philomedes, your Iliarch. You have been specially selected for a new unit that has been named Alexander’s Pathfinders.’
He had chosen the name carefully. They weren’t exactly scouts, and in any case they were heavy cavalry, not light. By associating the king’s name with the unit it indicated that they were serving him directly. He had sent a message to Alexander via Hector asking his permission to use his name and he had readily agreed, again via Hector. With a pang of regret Philomedes realised that he would be seeing very little of Alexander personally from now on.
‘Our task is to go ahead of the army with the engineers and prepare the way for them. That means that we get to choose the best spot in each overnight camp for ourselves.’
That raised a few chuckles and he could feel the men relaxing a little.
‘We will also be accompanied by a hipparchia of Thracian light cavalry to provide the labour for any construction tasks and to act as scouts. We leave the day after tomorrow so we will have a few days start on the rest of the army. The rest of today will be devoted to competitions. Your tetrachoi will organise running, wrestling, spearing rings at the gallop, swordsmanship fights and tests of horsemanship. I will join you and may the best man win!’
He had sent a message to the fort that morning to warn the tetrachoi what he had planned and they now started to organise the excited young men into groups of fifty. Each group would undertake each event in turn. Philomedes went to his tent where he found a boy of about fourteen he hadn’t seen before waiting to relieve him of his helmet and take off his linothrax and greaves.
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Myrto, your skeuphorus. I’m a present from the king.’
It had never occurred to Philomedes that he would need a personal servant, but it just emphasised how quickly he had risen in status. He just hoped he would prove worthy of it.
‘Where
do you come from, Myrto, and what were you doing before?’
‘I was born in Pella, my mother was a slave in King Philip’s service. She always claimed that he was my father but I think that he was only one of several men she was intimate with so I don’t think I believe her. She’s dead now,’ he added sadly. ‘I worked in the kitchens until I caught King Philip’s eye when I was twelve and he took me into his bed. I was one of his personal slaves until he was killed. King Alexander didn’t know what to do with me, then he told me I was to be your skeuphorus yesterday.’
Philomedes’ heart went out to Myrto. He knew of Philip’s reputation as a lover of boys, and young men - and young girls come to that - and he’d despised him for it. Suddenly a thought struck him. Suppose this boy thought that he’d be expected to sleep with his new master.
‘Myrto, if you do your job to the best of your ability I will always treat you fairly, and you won’t have to sleep in my bed, or anyone else’s either, unless you want to that is. No one will force you.’
The boy grinned shyly. ‘I wouldn’t mind sleeping in your bed, kyrios. You’re young; King Philip was old and smelly.’
‘Well, you’re not going to. I only like girls.’
The boy seemed disappointed but Philomedes was in a hurry. He changed into a plain white exomis and went to join the rest of his men.
-X-
Myrrine was dying. She had been the companion of Parmenion’s wife, Kharis, ever since she had become a widow when her husband, and Parmenion’s closest friend from his boyhood days, Orestes, had been killed in battle over twenty years ago. She had never married again and had brought up her son alongside the children of Parmenion and Kharis. He would have been twenty two if he were still alive, but he too had died fighting, this time at the Battle of Chaeronea. Kharis sat by her bedside, watching as her friend slowly faded away. Once her house had been full of people but her children were gone, even the youngest, Hector, was with the army as Alexander’s aide. The only other close friend she had was Chloe, Iphitos’ wife. However Chloe had two young children now, in addition to her three adopted ones: Enyo, Georgios and Philomedes. Her son, Skylax, was five, and her daughter, Frona, was now three. Her name meant self-controlled but, as her mother spoilt her, she was anything but. Sometimes Kharis wished that Chloe would give her a good slap.
After Myrrine’s funeral Kharis found the house very empty. With Parmenion away in Anatolia and no indication of when he might return, she began to feel lonely. Chloe came to see her when she could but she had her own household to run and two young children to look after. Then came the news about Attalus’ execution. He had been married to Kharis’ daughter, Troias, and they had one son, a boy of two called Orphion, which meant serpent – fitting name for Atallus’ offspring, Kharis had always thought, but he was her only grand-child.
She had supposed that Troias would remain living on Attalus’ estates in Eastern Macedonia as Orphion would inherit them now. However, she was woken early in the morning a week after the funeral to be told that her daughter and grandson had arrived and were waiting in the Gynaeceum. Kharis told the porter to rouse the servants and prepare some refreshments before she put on a chiton and raced along to see Troias. Her daughter threw herself into her mother’s arms and sobbed, whilst Orphion clutched at her mother’s himation, unsure of what was happening or who the old woman, who he didn’t remember, was.
It was some time before Troias and her son, who had picked up on his mother’s distress and had started to cry himself, would calm down. Then, over an early breakfast of olives, fruit, flatbread and yoghurt, Kharis found out what had happened.
Two days after Troias had heard about her husband’s execution ten of Alexander’s Companions had arrived at her house. The tetrachos in charge had brusquely informed her that the king had confiscated all of Attalus’ property, not just his estates but his money, horses, slaves and even his clothes. It was a petty act of revenge for Attalus’ drunken claim that his niece would give Philip a legitimate heir, something that Alexander had never forgotten or forgiven. The tetrachos had gone on to say that she was lucky that he hadn’t been ordered to kill her and her son, something that was commonly done to prevent blood feuds in the future. It was only the fact that they were Parmenion’s daughter and grandson that had saved them. She had been allowed to take her jewellery and clothes for her and little Orphion and was given a ride back to Pella in the baggage cart.
Kharis was outraged by the treatment meted out to her daughter and her immediate reaction was to go and ask for an audience with Alexander, but both Troias and Cloe managed to persuade her that such a move would merely annoy him and achieve nothing. He was not a man to change his mind once he had made it up.
‘The best thing you can do is to find Troias another husband and quickly; then people might start to forget her unfortunate union with Attalus,’ Chloe advised her.
Kharis sighed, knowing that her friend was correct.
Although Georgios was now twenty five, he still visited his adoptive mother from time to time when he was in Pella. He was now a tetrachos in the King’s Companions and was beginning to think that it was time that he found a wife. The problem was that he had yet to meet anyone he wanted to spend time with; until he met Troias when she was visiting Chloe with Kharis. Troias had married Attalus when she was fourteen and he was in his fifties so it was hardly a love match. Now she was seventeen and even more beautiful than she had been when she had caught Attalus’ eye.
Georgios and Troias fell for each other on the first day that they met after her return to Pella. He spent every spare moment he had visiting Kharis’ house after that and it wasn’t long before he asked her to marry him. The problem was that he didn’t have a great deal of money, only his pay as a tetrachos. Iphitos and Chloe had treated him as if he was their own natural son and had bought him his horses, armour and weapons when he joined the Companions, but Iphitos, although comfortably off, only had three small estates which provided his only other source of income apart from his pay as a taxiarch. He hadn’t been able to afford a suitable house in Pella for Enyo when she married Theon, not that they’d wanted one, and he couldn’t provide one for Georgios either.
Kharis knew that Parmenion would settle an estate on Troias, once he knew of his daughter’s situation, but that wouldn’t solve the problem. Georgios was a soldier and often away from long periods. When he wasn’t on campaign he had duties in Pella. He wouldn’t want his new wife to be abandoned miles away from anywhere where they couldn’t be together very easily. So for the time being she told the happy couple that she would be lonely without the company of her daughter and her grandson and invited Georgios to convert Myrrine’s old room and the two adjacent rooms that used to belong to Philotas and Nicanor into a suite for his new family.
When Philotas, Nicanor and Hector came to stay overnight, which they rarely did now, they could use the guest rooms. Georgios knew the solution to his problem for what it was, but he accepted the offer gracefully and work started on the conversion of the three rooms into a self-contained home for Orphion and themselves whilst he and Troias began to plan their wedding.
-X-
The various competitions had welded the men of his new ilium together just as Philomedes hoped it would. It had also allowed him and his tetrachoi to assess the qualities of the individual men, good and bad. At the end of the day’s competition the overall winner was promoted to tetrachos to fill the one remaining vacancy and he and his fellow officers picked the men they wanted to serve under them. This was tough on the men who were picked last, but it was an obvious way to divide them up into six tetrachia.
The next day was spent putting the men through their paces. Some were fresh out of training and none were older than nineteen, apart from the officers. They weren’t a total disaster as cavalrymen but they needed a lot more training. However, there was no time for that as Kleandros was determined to set out the following day. Philomedes made them train for one hour each evening when they cam
ped for the night, much to the amusement of the Thracians. However, by the end of the first week he was satisfied that they could do the basic manoeuvres competently. On the last day before they entered Thessaly he formed the ilium up in six wedges, and then charged the usual crowd of taunting Thracians who had gathered to watch. He had the satisfaction of seeing the Thracians scatter in panic as his ilium bore down on them. He ordered the recall to be sounded at the last moment and, in a very competent display of horsemanship, his cavalrymen came to a halt just as they reached the spot where the Thracians had been standing just a few seconds earlier.
Philomedes congratulated them and then made his way over to his tent where he stood patiently whilst Myrto undid the straps and removed his linothrax. He went and sat down whilst the boy knelt to remove his greaves and then fetched him a goblet of watered wine. The iliarch smiled his thanks; a surprising gesture from a master to a slave, but the two had an unusual relationship. He and Myrto had got on well together from the start. Philomedes found his position as iliarch a lonely one and he began to treat his skeuphorus more as a friend than as a servant. That could have been unwise, but the boy never overstepped the mark and gradually Philomedes began to discuss problems with him. For his part, Myrto was flattered and became deeply loyal to his master. He resolved never to betray his trust, though some of things he became aware of could have been very valuable in unscrupulous hands.
When they neared the Thessalian border Kleandros gave orders to proceed as if they were in hostile territory. The Thracians threw out a screen of scouts and everyone wore armour ad kept helmets and shields handy. Philomedes was riding on one side of him and the Thracian hipparchos on the other. So far there had been no problems and all that Kleandros and his engineer officers had to do was to select the sites for the overnight camps for the army and lay them out, leaving markers to indicate where the sites were. They knew that Alexander was three days behind them with his Companions and an epihipparchos of normal cavalry.