‘You will come,’ replied Alexander as he got out of the bath.
Leptine’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing and started drying him delicately with a sheet of linen.
Alexander lay down naked on his bed stretching out his limbs and she stood there for a moment looking at him as if enchanted and then, as she usually did, she undressed and lay down beside him, fondling him gently with her hands and her lips.
‘No,’ said Alexander. ‘Not like that. Tonight I will take you.’ He opened her legs carefully and slid on top of her. Leptine clung to him, gripping his hips in such a way that it was clear she didn’t want to miss an instant of this intimacy which was so dear to her; with her hands she guided the long, continuous thrust of his back, the power of his hips, the very same force which had tamed Bucephalas. And when he relaxed and lay still her face was covered by his hair and she enjoyed its scent as she took deep breaths through it.
‘Will I really be able to come with you?’ she asked when Alexander stretched out on his back by her side.
‘Yes, until at some stage on our march we come across a people whose language you understand – the mysterious language you sometimes speak in your sleep.’
‘What do you mean, Sire?’
‘Turn over,’ Alexander ordered. Leptine turned her back and he took a lamp and held it above her.
‘Did you know that you have a tattoo on your shoulder? I’ve never seen anything like it before. Yes, you will come with me and perhaps one day we will find someone who will make you remember who you are and where you come from, but there is one thing you must be aware of now: when we are in Asia things won’t be as they are now. It will be another world – other people, other women – and I too will be different. We have come to the end of one period in my life and another one is beginning. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘I understand, Sire, but for me it will be enough simply to be near you and to know that you are well. I ask no more from life, because I have already had much more from it than I could ever have hoped for.’
47
ALEXANDER MET the King of Epirus one month before setting out for Asia, at a secret rendezvous in Eordaea. The appointment had been arranged by means of a rapid exchange of messengers and they had not seen each other for more than a year, since Philip’s assassination. Much had happened in that time, not only in Macedon and in Greece, but in Epirus too.
King Alexander had succeeded in uniting all of the tribes of his small mountainous homeland in a confederation that had recognized him as supreme leader and had given him command of and responsibility for training its army. The soldiers of Epirus were all trained after the Macedonian fashion – divided into phalanxes of heavy infantry and squadrons of cavalry – while the monarchy had adopted Greek models in terms of ceremony, in minting gold and silver coin, and in dress and behaviour. The King of Epirus and the King of Macedon were now very much mirror images of each other.
As the moment set for the meeting approached, shortly before dawn, the two young men recognized each other from far away and spurred their steeds towards the large plane tree that stood solitary near a spring in the middle of a vast clearing. The mountain shone with a dark yet strangely luminous green colour because of the recent rains and the approaching change of season, while across the sky, which was still dark, a mild wind pushed large white clouds that had come from the direction of the sea.
They dismounted, leaving the horses free to graze, and embraced with youthful enthusiasm.
‘How are you?’ asked Alexander.
‘Fine,’ replied his brother-in-law. ‘I understand you are about to set off.’
‘I hear you are too.’
‘Did Cleopatra tell you?’
‘Rumours.’
‘I wanted to let you know in person.’
‘I understand . . . thank you.’
‘The city of Tarant, one of the richest in Italy, has asked for my help against the western barbarians who have been making incursions into their territory – the Brutians and the Lucanians.’
‘I too am responding to a call for help from the Greek cities of Asia in their resistance against the Persians. Isn’t it remarkable? We two have the same name, the same blood, we are both kings and leaders of armies and we are setting off on similar adventures. Do you remember my dream of the two suns?’
‘It’s the first thing that came to my mind when the envoys from Tarant explained their problem. Perhaps in all this there is some message from the gods.’
‘I am certain of it,’ replied Alexander.
‘And so you are not against my going westward?’
‘The only one who might oppose it is Cleopatra. My poor sister – she has seen her father assassinated on her wedding day and now her husband sets off on an adventure and leaves her abandoned and alone.’
‘I will try to earn her forgiveness. Are you really not against it?’
‘Against it? I am all for it. Listen: if you had not asked me for this meeting, I would have asked you. Do you remember Aristotle’s big map?’
‘There’s a reproduction of it in my palace at Buthrotum.’
‘Greece is the centre of the world in that map, and Delphi is the fulcrum of Greece. Pella and Buthrotum are equidistant from Delphi, and Delphi is equally distant from the extreme West – from the Pillars of Hercules – and from the far East – where the waters of the motionless, waveless Ocean lie.
‘You and I must make a solemn oath here, calling on the sky and the earth as witnesses: we must promise to go forth – myself towards the East and you towards the West – and we must never stop until we reach the shores of the all-encircling Ocean. And we must swear that should one of us fall by the way, the other will take his place and will continue with our undertaking. We are both setting off without heirs, my friend, and therefore we will each be the other’s heir. Are you willing to do this?’
‘With all my heart, Aléxandre,’ said the King of the Molossians.
‘With all my heart, Aléxandre,’ said the King of Macedon.
They unsheathed their swords, made incisions on their wrists, and mixed their blood in a small silver cup.
Alexander the Molossian poured some of it onto the soil and then gave the cup to Alexander of Macedon, who threw the rest up into the air, towards the sky. Then the King of Macedon said, ‘The sky and the earth have witnessed our oath. There can be no stronger, no more urgently binding tie. All that remains now is for us to take our leave and to wish each other good luck. We know not when we will see each other again. But when we do, it will truly be a great day, the greatest day the world has ever known.’
The springtime sun was coming into view just at that moment from behind the mountains of Eordaea and it flooded the vast landscape of peaks, valleys and torrents with a sharp, clear light. It made every single drop of dew sparkle, as if the night had rained pearls on the meadows and on the branches of the trees, as if the spiders had woven webs of silver in the dark.
The western wind responded to the appearance of the radiant face of the god of light by making waves in the great sea of grass that extended there before them, caressing the tufts of golden reeds and the purple crocuses, the red petals of the mountain lilies. Flocks of birds took to the air and flew towards the centre of the sky, standing out against the cirrus clouds which soared high and white like dove wings, and herds of deer came out of the forest and ran towards the sparkling torrents and the pastures.
At that moment there appeared, at the top of a hill, the agile figure of an Amazon, clad only in a short chiton over her naked, slender legs, a young girl with long golden hair astride a white horse with a flowing tail and mane.
‘Cleopatra wanted to see you,’ said the King of Epirus. ‘I couldn’t say no.’
‘There was no need to say no. I too wanted to see her more than anything. Wait for me here.’
He jumped onto his steed and galloped to the young girl who sat waiting for him, trembling with emotion, resplendent like a s
tatue of Artemis.
They dismounted, ran to each other and embraced, kissing on the cheek, kissing each other’s eyelids, their hair; they hugged each other with a mutual sweetness and concern that was deeply moving.
‘My beloved, my sweet, my gentle sister . . .’ Alexander said as he looked at her with infinite tenderness.
‘My Alexander, my King, my Lord, my beloved brother, light of my eyes . . .’ and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. ‘Will I ever see you again?’ she asked, her eyes moist with tears.
‘No one can know the answer to that question, my sister, for our destiny lies in the hands of the gods. But I swear that you will always be in my heart – in the deep silence of the night as in the clamour of battle, in the burning of the desert as in the mountain cold. I will call your name every evening before going to sleep, and I hope the wind will carry my voice to you. Fare thee well, Cleopatra.’
‘Farewell, Brother. I will go up every evening to the highest tower in the palace and I will listen out until the wind brings me your voice, and the scent of your hair. Fare thee well, Aléxandre . . .’
Cleopatra sped off in tears on her steed, unable to bear the sight of her brother’s departure. Alexander returned slowly to his brother-in-law who was waiting for him below, leaning on the trunk of the giant plane tree. He dismounted and gave both hands to his namesake; his voice when he spoke was full of emotion:
‘And so we must leave each other here. Farewell, King of the West, King of the Red Sun and of Mount Atlantis, King of the Pillars of Hercules. When we see each other again it will be to celebrate a new era for all humanity. But if fate or the envy of the gods should deny us that meeting, may our embrace now be stronger than time, stronger than death, and may our dream burn for ever like the flames of the sun.’
‘Farewell, King of the East, King of the White Sun and of Mount Paropamisus, Lord of the Far Ocean. May our dream burn for ever, whatever be the destiny that awaits us.’
They embraced, overcome by emotion, while the breeze entwined their lions’ hair, while their tears mingled just as their blood had mingled. It was a solemn, poignant rite in the presence of the sky and the earth, in the midst of the wind’s strength.
Then they jumped astride their steeds and spurred them on – the King of the Molossians off towards the Evening and Sunset, the King of Macedon towards the Morning and the Dawn. At that moment not even the gods knew what fate awaited them because only Fate, the inscrutable, can ever know all the highways and the byways of such great men.
48
THE ARMY BEGAN to assemble with the arrival of the first spring winds, starting with battalions of the heavy infantry of the pezhetairoi, fully equipped, with their enormous sarissae on their shoulders. In the front lines were the young men, lined up with the shining copper Argead star on their shields, then came the more experienced soldiers sporting the bronze star and then, last but not least, the veterans, the shields on their arms bearing the silver star.
They all wore helmets in the shape of a Phrygian cap with a short visor, together with red tunics and cloaks. And when they took part in military exercises, carrying out turns or simulating attacks in the field, the sarissae would clash one against the other, creating a tremendous noise, as if the wind were blowing through the branches of a forest of bronze. And when the officers ordered them to lower their pikes, the immense phalanx looked horrifying, like a porcupine bristling with spines of steel.
The hetairoi cavalry were drawn from among the nobility, district by district, equipped with heavy armour covering them down to their abdomens and with Boeotian helmets with wide brims. They rode magnificent Thessalian horses, raised on the rich pastures of the plain and along the banks of the great rivers.
The fleet gathered in the northern ports and was joined by Athenian and Corinthian divisions because there was some fear of an attack by the Persian imperial navy, led by a Greek admiral called Memnon, a formidable man in terms of cunning and experience, but above all else a man of his word who would respect his commitments, no matter what the outcome.
Eumenes had met him in Asia and warned Alexander one day when the King came to inspect the fleet aboard the flagship: ‘Be careful, Alexander, Memnon is a principled mercenary who only ever sells his sword once and to one person only. His price is high, but then it’s as if he has sworn loyalty to a new homeland – nothing and no one will ever make him change allegiance and flag.
‘His fleet has both Greek and Phoenician crews and he can count on the clandestine support of the considerable number of adversaries you still have in Greece. Imagine what might happen if he were to unleash a surprise attack while we are ferrying our army from one side of the Straits to the other.
‘My informers have created a system of reflected light signals between the Asian and European coasts so as to raise an immediate alarm should Memnon’s fleet approach. We know that the Persian satraps from the western provinces have confirmed his supreme command of all their forces in Asia. His mission is to engage and neutralize your invasion force, but for the moment we have no news of his battle plans – we only have very limited information.’
‘And how long will it take to gather more?’ asked Alexander.
‘Perhaps a month.’
‘That’s too long. We are setting out in four days’ time.’
Eumenes looked at him in amazement. ‘Four days? But that’s madness, we don’t have enough supplies yet. I told you – what we have now is only enough for a month, more or less. We must at least wait until the new deliveries arrive from Mount Pangaeos.’
‘No, Eumenes. I will wait no longer. With each day that passes the enemy has more opportunity to organize his defences, to muster troops, to employ mercenaries . . . Greek ones even. We must strike as soon as possible. What do you think Memnon will do?’
‘Memnon has already fought successfully against your father’s generals. Ask Parmenion just how easy it is to predict his moves.’
‘But what do you think he will do?’
‘He will lead you far away landwards,’ said a voice behind Eumenes, ‘towards the interior, razing the earth in his wake, and then his fleet will sever your seaward communications and supplies.’
‘Do you know Admiral Nearchus?’ asked Eumenes.
Alexander shook the man’s hand. ‘Hail, Admiral!’
‘Excuse me, Sire,’ said Nearchus, a robust Cretan with broad shoulders and black hair and eyes. ‘I was busy with preparations and wasn’t able to reach you until now.’
‘Is what you have just told us your sincere view of this situation?’
‘Frankly . . . yes. Memnon knows that to challenge you on the open field would be dangerous because he doesn’t have sufficient numbers of troops to deal with your infantry, but he almost certainly knows that you are lacking in reserves.’
‘And how would he know that?’
‘Because the Persians’ intelligence-gathering system is second to none – they have spies everywhere and they are extremely well paid. What’s more, they can count on many friends and sympathizers in Athens, in Sparta, Corinth and even here, in Macedon. All he need do is gain a little time and then instigate skirmishing operations by land and by sea behind you – we will find ourselves in trouble, and perhaps even in a trap.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I simply want you to be on your guard, Sire. What you are about to undertake is no ordinary enterprise.’
The ship was moving offshore with its prow breaking the waves of the open sea, the spray flying. The chief oarsman was beating the rhythm and the rowers bent and straightened their shining backs under the brightness of the sun, alternately immersing and raising the long oars.
Alexander appeared lost in listening to the rhythm of the drum and the calls of the rowers as they sought to maintain their timing.
‘It seems this Memnon inspires fear in everyone,’ he suddenly said.
‘Not fear, Sire,’ Nearchus asserted. ‘We are simply considering a p
ossible scenario. Indeed, in my opinion it is a most likely one.’
‘You are right, Admiral. We are weakest and most exposed at sea, but on land we are invincible – no one can beat us.’
‘For now,’ said Eumenes.
‘For now,’ admitted Alexander.
‘And so?’ asked Eumenes again.
‘Even the most powerful of fleets has need of ports, is that not the case, Admiral?’
‘There is no doubt of that at all, Sire, but . . .’
‘To cut him off you would have to occupy all the ports of call along the coast from the Straits to the delta of the Nile,’ said Eumenes.
‘Exactly,’ replied Alexander, without batting an eyelid.
*
On the eve of their departure the King returned from Aegae in the dead of night. He had been there to offer a sacrifice on Philip’s tomb and he went straight to his mother’s apartments. The Queen was still awake, embroidering a cloak by lamplight. When Alexander knocked at her door she went to him and embraced him.
‘I never imagined this moment would come,’ she said, trying to conceal her emotion.
‘You have seen me set off on other expeditions, Mother.’
‘But it’s different this time. I feel it. I have had strange dreams, difficult to interpret.’
‘I can imagine. Aristotle says that dreams are the offspring of our minds and so we must search for the answer within our own selves.’
‘I have sought it there, but for some time now I have found that looking within myself gives me a sense of vertigo, almost fear.’
‘And I’m sure you know why.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing. You are my mother, and yet you are the most mysterious being I have ever known.’
‘I am simply an unhappy woman. And now you are setting off on a long war, abandoning me here. But it was written that these things would happen, and that you should accomplish extraordinary, superhuman feats.’
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