Alexander

by H A CULLEY

  The landing at night had gone smoothly, much to his surprise, and he and his men had arrived at the enemy campsite an hour before dawn. As soon as it was light enough to see, he gave the order to attack. He had placed the light spearmen on the left flank, beside the river, and the peltasts on the right. The phalanx advanced in line, sixteen men deep. That meant that their frontage was five hundred yards wide as they had started in open formation. They could close up to their normal, tighter, spacing once they had to start defending. The Getae were taken completely by surprise. Very few were up and about so early and it seemed that they hadn’t bothered to put out sentries. The warriors slept in the open around what remained of their campfires, their weapons and kit scattered around.

  Nearchos advanced into the campsite. Like his men, he carried his sarissa upright in his left hand with his shield slung on his back so that he could use his sword to kill the barbarians where they lay, still asleep. However, it wasn’t long before a few men woke up and started to sound the alarm. He calculated that, by this time, he and his men had killed perhaps a thousand or more. He thrust his sword down through the neck of a man who had just woken up and looked about him.

  Thousands of Getae were now on their feet, scrabbling about for their helmets and weapons. Very few seemed to possess armour and their weapons seemed to consist of short spears and axes. Some had swords as well, but not many. Their shields weren’t the large round type made of wood and faced with either a thin sheet of bronze or leather that his hoplites carried; they were smaller and made of wicker.

  Suddenly a man he had thought to be dead started to get up and picked up a discarded spear as he did so. He realised he only had a split second before the man would be able to thrust his spear into him as he came up into a crouch. It would take him too long to bring his sword it play but his sarissa had a point made of bronze on the opposite end to the iron spearhead. This was for digging the sarissa into the ground to steady it in the phalanx but it was lethal. He raised the sarissa in the air and brought the point down on the crouching man’s unprotected neck. The warrior’s spear had started to pierce Nearchos’ linothrax but the spear fell from his hands as he collapsed. The layered linen armour had been torn but the blow hadn’t pierced his flesh, for which he thanked Apollo.

  As the hoplites and the light spearmen had advanced into the camp, the peltasts had been busy bringing down those ahead of them as they awoke and stood up. Now they concentrated and trying to disrupt the Getae as they tried to form up to oppose Nearchos’ men.

  He decided that they had reeked as much havoc as they could against a disorganised enemy; now it was time to form phalanx and hold off the barbarians until Ptolomy and the cavalry arrived. He looked for his aide but the young man lay dead fifty yards behind him, one of the few casualties so far on the Macedonian side. He went looking for a soldier with a keras himself and told him to sound the order for form phalanx as soon as he found one.

  It took longer than he would have liked as some of his hoplites were so intent on killing the Getae that they either didn’t hear or chose to ignore the order until it had been sounded several times. A few minutes later the last hoplite had joined the formation and found his proper place. The peltasts split into their two lochia and took station on the flanks with the spearmen, similarly divided, to guard them. Now it was a question of waiting for the cavalry to appear.

  The Getae attacked the phalanx repeatedly, losing many men in the process, but that didn’t seem to deter them. They found the hedge of sarissa points too difficult to attack so many of them ran around to attack the Macedonian right flank. This was exposed as hoplites fought with their shields on their left arm, but immediately he became aware of it, Nearchos gave the order for the five files on the right of the phalanx to turn and face the enemy. The peltasts and the lightly armed spearmen on that flank had long since retreated to the rear of the formation.

  They had been fighting like this for nearly an hour and the hoplites were beginning to tire when the welcome sight of the cavalry gave them fresh energy to repulse the Getae. Nearchos had been in the middle of the phalanx when the serious fighting began. From there he had directed the replacement of the troops in the front ranks with the fresh ones further back, but this was complicated by having to fight on two fronts. Inevitably some who had just rotated from the front got pushed out to the flank without much of a break.

  Nearchos found himself in the second row after an hour’s fighting. The sarissa was long enough so that the front rank could level theirs at the enemy’s chest, the second row at their legs, the third at their head and the fourth at their stomach. Of course, the points were staggered but it made an almost impregnable hedge of spear points.

  One of the problems occurred when bodies impaled on the sarissa rendered it unusable until the hoplite could pull his spear point free. For the time that this took the hoplite was vulnerable unless those around him could protect him. At times the ferocity of the Getae attack was so great that everyone was too busy defending themselves to worry about their neighbours. This was when casualties occurred.

  Another problem was the athleticism of the young men and boys of the Getae. Whilst their front rank was engaged with the hoplites, the ranks behind crouched down and others would then take a run, jump onto their comrades’ backs and carry on running before leaping in the air and landing several rows deep inside the phalanx. The hoplites, hampered as they were with their sarissas and shields, had no defence until someone could get a sword or a dagger out of its scabbard or sheath. Those Getae who performed this act of heroism were leaping to certain death but this didn’t seem to deter them.

  Nearchos had just rotated back into the seventh rank when one of the leapers landed on top of him, knocking him to the ground. Luckily for him he fell with his shield facing upwards so he was able to use it to ward off the frenzied attempts of his attacker to kill him. Then the barbarian slumped across him and he heaved him to one side. Someone had stuck the pointed bottom of his sarissa through the man’s back. When Nearchos heaved the body off him so that he could stand up he was surprised how light it was. He glanced down at the dead Getae and was staggered to see that it was a boy of no more than nine or ten.

  -X-

  Philomedes felt the rush of the air past his face and the adrenalin coursing through his veins as his ilium picked up the pace from a canter to a gallop The rear ranks of the Getae – inevitably composed of those less keen than their fellows to get stuck into the fighting – turned and looked at the approaching horsemen with horror. They too were horsemen but they only used them to travel from one place to another, they dismounted to fight, as did those other tribes that they normally fought. They were therefore quite unused to facing a cavalry charge. Their only hope of salvation was to form a solid mass with their spears facing outwards. Instead they fled.

  ‘Ignore them,’ Philomedes called out and his tetrachoi echoed the order. The Pathfinders were disciplined enough to obey, but not so the Agriani, who peeled off to pursue such easy prey. Now the two hundred and fifty Pathfinders were charging thousands of infantry on their own. Roundly cursing the Agriani under his breath, he gave the signal for his men to move into wedge formation.

  The Getae who faced them looked for an escape but there was none. The Agriani were cutting down those who had already fled to the east, Ptolemy’s men were charging in from the west and the Pathfinders from the north. Grim faced they levelled their spears or hefted their axes and waited for the horsemen to reach them.

  Philomedes rode at the point of one of the wedges, a tetrarch took up position a yard back on his right and another soldier rode in a similar position on his left. The man carrying the ilium’s banner of a black soaring eagle on a yellow background positioned himself immediately behind his iliarch. The man Philomedes was heading for lowered his spear, aiming for his horse’s chest but Philomedes threw his own spear as soon as he was certain of a hit and the man fell backwards with the spear jutting out from his chest. Philomedes just had
time to drag his sword from its scabbard as his stallion barged into the press of men in front of him. He slashed down at a man who was lifting an axe, intending to bring it down on his leg and saw a lived red scare appear across the warrior’s unprotected face, then he was past him and he thrust the point of his sword into another man’s open mouth.

  Now he was surrounded by screaming Getae, some trying to kill him but many just trying to get out of the way. Two burly barbarians had lost their spears but were trying to unhorse him and he felt himself being pulled sideways off his horse; then one of his men speared one of his assailants and he managed to thrust his sword into the other. No sooner was he free of them than he felt a tremendous blow strike his shield. He glanced round and saw that an axe was stuck fast in the wood, having sliced through the bronze covering as if it were made of thin vellum.

  He kicked the axeman away and he disappeared amongst the milling hooves of other horses. The shield with the embedded axe was now more of a hindrance than a help so Philomedes discarded it. Almost immediately he felt a blow to his linothrax and he saw that a grinning Getae warrior had stabbed him in his left side. For a moment he felt nothing and then an excruciating pain hit him and he collapsed, falling sideways from his stallion. He knew no more.

  -X-

  Alexander had crossed the Danube immediately after Nearchos’ and Ptolemy’s victory over the Getae. The latter’s charge had broken the resistance of those attacking Nearchos’ phalanx from the west and then swept on to attack the flank of the mass of men against whom the Pathfinders were battling valiantly. Just at that moment the Agriani returned to charge into the routed Getae. They set about killing the panicked tribesmen and an hour later it was all over. Some eight thousand Getae had been killed and five thousand taken captive, whereas the Macedonian army had lost less than a thousand. Parmenion calculated that less than two thousand had escaped. The Getae wouldn’t pose a problem for the embarkation of his army now.

  Nevertheless, Alexander decided to press on and destroy the Getae’s main town before handing the region over to Langarus and the Agriani. He led ten thousand men inland but he could have captured it with a tenth of that number. There was no outer wall or palisade and very few men left to defend the sprawling mass of huts and the central great hall. He set fire to it, killed the men, young and old, and took several thousand women and children prisoner.

  Now that he had so many captives it would take weeks to ship them all to the nearest slave markets, but the money raised would pay his men for a year, so he made camp and waited for the transports to finish ferrying them through the Hellespont to Rhodes and Macedon. It would also give those of his men who had been wounded a chance to recover.

  Philomedes had been lucky. One of his tetrarch’s had seen him fall and got his men to form a ring around their iliarch. He dismounted and knelt by his side. Seeing that Philomedes was still alive, he took off his linothrax and his exomis, using the latter to staunch the blood from the wound. It was serious but the spear point had glanced off his ribs, which robbed the blow of a lot of its force. It had penetrated his abdomen, but not deeply.

  His men slung him over a spare horse and fought their way clear of the melee with him. At that point the Getae were broken and so they managed to reach the river bank where ships were now ferrying the wounded back over the Danube without difficulty. They saw Philomedes carried onto a trireme and laid on the deck with several other casualties and then returned to report to the senior tetrarch.

  Myrto had been left behind when his master had crossed the Danube to attack the Getae and now waited anxiously for news of him. It was Enyo who send a messenger to tell him that Philomedes was in the hospital tent and he ran all the way there. She was kneeling beside her cousin holding his hand whilst a physician finished sewing up the wound. Theon stood behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  As soon as the physician had finished, Myrto fetched a ewer of water and a clean cloth and he and Enyo started to wash the filth and blood from Philomedes body. They had just finished when Georgios arrived and embraced Enyo and then Theon.

  ‘What are his chances?’ he asked sombrely.

  ‘Quite good, so the physician said, provided he doesn’t get an infection,’ she replied.

  ‘Cobwebs are good for that,’ Myrto muttered diffidently.

  ‘Cobwebs?’ Enyo looked sceptical. ‘But they’re filthy; they’re more likely to cause an infection than prevent one surely?’

  Myrto shook his head. ‘My mother was a slave but she told me about her mother, who was the village wise woman. She passed a lot of her remedies on to me and I remember her clearly saying that cobwebs not only prevent infection but they make the blood clot faster and so speed up the healing process.’

  ‘I think we should do what Myrto says,’ Georgios. ‘I’ve heard that somewhere else, but I can’t remember where.’

  Whilst the other three went in search of spider webs – not easy to find in a tented encampment – Myrto took off the dressing and cleaned the wound with vinegar and honey. He then pushed the bundle of spider’s webs onto the wound before binding it up again. At this point Philomedes began to regain consciousness and groaned. He yelled in pain and blinked when he opened his eyes. He groaned as Myrto pressed a sponge filled with watered wine to his lips. He sucked at it and tried to smile his thanks.

  ‘I must return; I only slipped away to find out how he was. I’ll try and come again tomorrow.’ With that Georgios kissed Enyo, clapped Theon on the shoulder and ruffled Mryto’s hair before leaving.

  ‘Iphitos wants to see us too.’ Theon told Myrto.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay with him and look after him.’

  Later on Iphitos came to see his adopted son and spent some time talking to Myrto whilst Philomedes slept.

  ‘King Alexander has decided to stay here for the next few weeks, until we’ve got rid of all the slaves.’ It was only then that Iphitos realised that he was talking to a slave, but Myrto seemed such a self-confident and capable youth that he seemed more like an aide than a skeuphorus. ‘Have the physicians said how long it would take for the wound to heal?’

  ‘Provided it heals well and there are no complications they said six weeks, but I would expect them to be able to take the stiches out in three or four. Then he will have to get fit again, of course. My estimate is six weeks to two months before he is ready to ride into battle again, kyrios.’

  The boy smiled at him. There was no subservience evident as would normally the case when a slave spoke to a senior officer. His eyes should be downcast and it was quite improper for Myrto to look him in the eye the way he was doing now. Iphitos found it a trifle disconcerting but he didn’t upbraid the lad. In fact, he warmed to him and decided he liked him. Certainly he felt that his adopted son was in good hands.

  ‘Good. I’m sure you’ll look after him well.’

  It was just as well that Philomedes had Myrto, he thought. The physicians and their assistants were fully occupied coping with the other wounded to worry about those they had already dealt with. Iphitos wrinkled his nose. The stench in the hospital tent was awful: blood, faeces, urine and sweat mingled with the sweet stench of corruption from those who had already succumbed to gangrene.

  ‘I’ll see about getting him moved back to his own tent.’

  ‘I know it’s not very pleasant in here, kyrios, but if he was moved now it might re-open the wound. Additionally there might be other damage inside his intestines that the physician couldn’t find. It might be wise to let him be for a week or so until the wound has had a chance to knit together.’

  Iphitos nodded, even more impressed with Myrto. Timandros, his own skeuphorus, had been with him for ten years and seemed devoted to Iphitos, but he didn’t think that the man would prove to be anywhere near as useful if it were him lying there instead of Philomedes. That gave Iphitos an idea. He had always intended to grant Timandros his freedom and allow him to become an engineer. He had been interested in that side of Iphitos’ l
ife ever since he had first joined him and he had picked up a great deal of knowledge third hand. Furthermore, Galen, his own aide, has passed on to Timandros much of what he himself had learned. He too was ready to move on to a more responsible position. Perhaps the four weeks or so that they would be here might be a good time to sort things out. He would talk to Kleandros, who was now chief engineer.

  That evening he went to find him. Kleandros was always looking for new engineer officers and jumped at the chance to recruit two new ones. As he had been Iphitos’ aide at one point he trusted his former commander’s judgement implicitly. Naturally both Galen and Timandros were delighted at the prospect and went off to present themselves to Kleandros. That left Iphitos without either an aide or a servant, and he needed to sort out a temporary commander for the Pathfinders as well.

  He called a meeting of the five tetrarchs who had survived the battle with the Getae. As they had lost forty two cavalrymen, he decided to divide the remaining two hundred odd men into five tetrachia instead of six. He then allowed the tetrarchs to elect one of their number to act as iliarch until Philomedes returned to duty. Luckily their choice was universal.

  With one problem resolved, he went to inspect the Getae captives. He learned that their priests were called the Ctistae and that several of them had been captured along with several boys who appeared to be their acolytes. There were a dozen of them and Iphitos got the guards to line them up for his inspection.