Alexander (Vol. 2)

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  Alexander looked into his dark, flighty eyes. ‘I have never seen you before. If Parmenion has sent you then you will certainly have a letter bearing his seal.’

  ‘I have no letter – it would have been too dangerous if I were captured. I have orders to transmit to you in person the things I have been told.’

  ‘Speak then.’

  ‘With Parmenion there is a relative of yours, he leads the cavalry.’

  ‘He is my cousin, Amyntas of Lyncestis. He is an excellent soldier and for this reason I gave him the Thessalian cavalry.’

  ‘And do you trust him?’

  ‘When my father was assassinated, he immediately came to my side and since then he has always been loyal.’

  ‘Are you sure of this?’ the man asked again.

  Alexander began to lose his patience. ‘If you have something to tell me, spit it out instead of beating around the bush.’

  ‘Parmenion has intercepted a Persian messenger who was carrying a letter from the Great King to your cousin.’

  ‘May I see it?’ asked Alexander, stretching out his hand.

  Sisines shook his head with a slight smile. ‘It is a most delicate document that we certainly could not risk losing, if I were captured. General Parmenion, however, has authorized me to transmit orally the content of the letter to you.’

  Alexander gestured for him to continue.

  ‘The Great King’s letter offers your cousin Amyntas of Lyncestis the throne of Macedon and two thousand talents in gold in return for your life.’

  The King was speechless. He thought immediately of what Eumolpus of Soloi had said regarding a large sum of money having left the palace at Susa for Anatolia and he thought of the valour and loyalty his cousin had demonstrated up until that moment. He suddenly felt he was being caught up in a web of conspiracies in which valour, strength and courage were worthless, a situation which was a thousand times more suited to his mother’s talents than his own. In any case it was a situation that required an immediate solution.

  ‘If this proves to be untrue I will have you cut to pieces and thrown to the dogs,’ he said.

  Peritas, dozing in a corner, lifted his head and licked his chops, as if suddenly interested in this new twist to the conversation. But Sisines did not seem to be perturbed in the slightest. ‘If I am lying, it will not be difficult for you to establish the fact once you meet up with Par-menion.’

  ‘But what proof do you have that my cousin intends to accept the money and the Great King’s proposal?’

  ‘In theory I have no proof. But consider the facts, Sire – would Darius have made such a proposal and risked a sum of money of that size if he had not been sure of the answer? And do you know of any man who can resist indefinitely the attractions of power and riches? If I were in your place, Sire, I would not take any risks. With all that money your cousin could employ a thousand assassins, he could pay off an entire army.’

  ‘Are you suggesting what my next move should be?’

  ‘By the gods, no, Sire. I am a faithful servant who has done his duty crossing snow-covered mountains, suffering hunger and cold, risking his life more than once in lands which are still in the hands of the soldiers and the spies of the Great King.’

  Alexander did not reply, but he understood that at this point he had no choice, that a decision in any case had to be made. Sisines interpreted the silence in the most logical manner.

  ‘General Parmenion gave me orders to return as soon as possible with your instructions. And these cannot be written either – I must report to him in person. Indeed, the general honours me with his complete trust.’

  Alexander turned his back because he did not want Sisines to read his thoughts in his face. Then, after reflecting on and considering everything, he turned and said, ‘This is my message for General Parmenion:

  I have received your communication and I thank you for having brought to light a conspiracy that could have resulted in grave setbacks to our enterprise, or even my own death.

  We have no proof, however, on the basis of what I have been told, that my cousin had any intention of accepting the money and the proposal.

  I would therefore ask you to keep him under arrest until my arrival and until I have an opportunity to question him personally. But I want him to be treated in a manner befitting his rank and his station. I hope you are well. Take good care.

  Repeat it now,’ ordered Alexander.

  Sisines looked him straight in the eye and repeated the message verbatim, without any hesitation whatsoever.

  ‘Fine,’ replied the King, hiding his amazement. ‘Now go and eat and sleep. You will have a bed for the night. When you feel sufficiently rested and ready, you will set off again.’

  ‘I will ask for a satchel of food and a skin of water and I will leave straight away.’

  ‘Wait.’

  Sisines, who at that moment was bent over, bowing to take his leave, immediately straightened up, ‘At your service, Sire.’

  ‘How many days did it take you to reach us from the general’s position?’

  ‘Eleven days on the mule.’

  ‘Tell Parmenion that I will leave Termessus in five days’ time at the most and that I will join him in Gordium in the same time it took you to come here.’

  ‘Do you want me to repeat this message as well?’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ said Alexander. ‘I thank you for the information you have brought to me and I will tell Eumenes to reward you for your troubles.’

  Sisines responded, ‘That will not be necessary, Sire. My reward is to have contributed towards safeguarding your person. I ask no more than this.’ He gave the King a last look which could have meant anything, then he bowed respectfully and left. Alexander sat heavily on a stool and put his face in his hands.

  He sat there motionless for a long time – his thoughts returning to the days, back in Pella, when as a child he played with his companions and his cousins at hide-and-seek or with a ball and he felt like shouting or crying.

  He had no idea how much time passed before Leptine came to him and put her hand on his shoulder, ‘Bad news, my Lord?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Alexander, without turning.

  Leptine put her cheek to his shoulder. ‘I have managed to find some wood for burning and to warm some water. Would you care to take a bath?’

  The King nodded and followed the girl into the private section of the tent where a tub full of steaming water awaited him. Leptine undressed him in the lamplight, darkness having fallen some time previously.

  37

  WITH ARISTANDER’S HELP, Eumenes managed to draw up an agreement with a nearby people, the Selghaeans, sworn enemies of the Termessians even though they spoke the same language and worshipped the same deities. He gave them money and had Alexander grant their leader a high-flown title such as ‘Supreme Dynast and Autocrat of Pisidia’. The Selghaeans immediately took up position around the city, ready for the siege.

  ‘I told you that Termessus would soon be at your mercy,’ Aristander reminded the King, interpreting the situation in his own, highly original manner.

  The King made sure of the surrender of some nearby cities along the coast, Side and Aspendos for example, beautiful places built partly in the Greek style with squares, colonnades and temples adorned with statues. He had these cities pay him the taxes they previously paid to the Persians. Finally, before setting off northwards he left a group of officers from the hetairoi and a division of assault troops from the shieldsmen together with his barbarian allies under the walls of Termessus.

  The Taurus mountains were covered with snow, but the weather was reasonably good, the sky clear and deep blue in colour. Here and there isolated clumps of beech and oak still bore their ochre and reddish leaves, standing out from the blinding whiteness like jewels on a silver tray. As the army advanced the Thracians and the Agrianians, led by Lysimachus, were sent on ahead to occupy the passes and to avoid surprise attacks; in this way the march proc
eeded without any serious danger cropping up.

  Eumenes bought plenty of supplies in the villages so as not to irritate the local population and to ensure the quietest possible passage of the army across the ridges of the great mountain chain.

  Alexander rode alone and in silence, ahead of everyone and astride Bucephalas. It was clear to them all he was preoccupied with some problem. He wore a Macedonian hat, with its typically wide brim and over his shoulders was a military chlamys of heavy wool. Peritas trotted along almost seeming to run in and out among the hooves of the great stallion. The two animals had established a friendly understanding some time previously and when the dog was not asleep at the foot of Alexander’s bed, he would settle down in the straw near Bucephalas.

  After three days of march over the mountains, they came within sight of the interior highlands – a flat, burned plain, swept by a bitter cold wind. Far off in the distance a body of water could be seen shining, clear and dark, surrounded by an extent of blinding whiteness.

  ‘More snow,’ grumbled Eumenes, who once again was feeling the cold and had definitively abandoned his short military chiton for a pair of warmer Phrygian trousers.

  ‘No . . . it is salt,’ said Aristander, riding alongside him. ‘That is Lake Ascania, saltier than the sea. In the summer much of it evaporates and the layer of salt extends outwards. The locals sell it throughout the valley.’

  As the army passed over the salt, the sun was just beginning to descend behind the mountains and the shining sun refracted by millions of salt crystals created a fantastic effect – an unreal, magic atmosphere. The soldiers looked on in silence at this marvel without managing to take their eyes from the continuous changes in colour, from the rays of light refracted by the infinite crystalline facets into triumphs of fire-like sparks.

  ‘Gods of Olympus!’ said Seleucus. ‘What splendour! Now we really can say that we are far from home.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Ptolemy. ‘I have never seen anything like this in all my life.’

  ‘And this is not all that awaits you,’ continued Aristander. ‘Farther on is Mount Argaeus, which spits fire and flames from its summit and covers whole regions with ash. It is said that the giant Typhon is chained up within it.’

  Ptolemy made a gesture to Seleucus to follow him and spurred his horse forward as though off to inspect the column. He continued for half a stadium before drawing rein and slowing to a walk.

  ‘What’s wrong with Alexander?’ he asked.

  Seleucus drew up alongside, ‘I don’t know. He has been this way ever since the Egyptian visitor came to see him.’

  ‘I don’t like Egyptians,’ Ptolemy declared. ‘Who knows what nonsense he has put into Alexander’s head? This seer was bad enough, this Aristander.’

  ‘I think Hephaestion knows something, but he won’t give anything away.’

  ‘I’m sure. He always does exactly what Alexander wants him to do.’

  ‘Right. What can it be about? It certainly must be bad news. And then all this haste to move onwards . . . do you think something might have happened to Parmenion?’

  Ptolemy looked briefly at Alexander, riding ahead but not very far off.

  ‘He surely would have said something. And then Parmenion is with the Black, Philotas, Craterus and even Alexander’s cousin, Amyntas, who has command of the Thessalian cavalry. Is it possible that no one survived?’

  ‘Who knows? Perhaps an ambush . . . or perhaps Alexander is thinking about Memnon. That man is capable of anything – as we speak he might well have landed in Macedonia, or at Piraeus.’

  ‘What shall we do? If he invites us to supper this evening then perhaps we could ask him.’

  ‘It depends on what sort of mood he’s in. Perhaps it would be better to speak with Hephaestion.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Let’s do that.’

  In the meantime the sun had disappeared below the horizon and the two friends’ thoughts turned to the young women they had left behind in Pieria or in Eordaea and who perhaps at that melancholy time of day were thinking of them.

  ‘Have you ever thought of getting married?’ Ptolemy suddenly asked.

  ‘No. And you?’

  ‘Me neither. But I wouldn’t have minded marrying Cleopatra.’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘Perdiccas wouldn’t have minded either, if it comes to that.’

  ‘Right. Perdiccas too.’

  A great shout came from the head of the column. The scouts were returning at a gallop from a reconnaissance mission, the last before dark: ‘Kelainai! Kelainai!’

  ‘Where?’ asked Eumenes.

  ‘Five stadia in that direction,’ replied one of the scouts, pointing to a hill in the distance on which myriad lights twinkled. It was a wonderful sight, like a giant anthill illuminated by thousands of fireflies.

  Alexander seemed to liven up and he lifted his arm to stop the column: ‘We will camp here,’ he ordered. ‘Tomorrow we will approach the city. It is the capital of Phrygia and the seat of the Persian satrap of the province. If Parmenion has not already taken it, we will do the job; there must be a lot of money locked away in that fortress.’

  ‘His mood seems to have changed,’ said Ptolemy.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Seleucus. ‘He must have remembered what Aristotle used to say: “There is either a solution to the problem and therefore it is pointless to worry about it, or there is no solution and it is pointless to worry about it.” Perhaps he will invite us to supper after all.’

  38

  WINTER WAS WELL ON its way, and Aristotle arrived in Methone on one of the last ships to leave Piraeus. The captain had decided to make the most of a strong and constant southerly wind to deliver a consignment of olive oil, wine and beeswax which otherwise would have had to wait in the warehouses until the arrival of spring, and lower prices.

  On landing he climbed up on to a carriage drawn by a pair of mules and asked the driver take him to Mieza. He had the keys to all of the buildings with him and was authorized to come and go and make use of the facilities whenever he wished. He was perfectly aware that he would meet someone whom he very much wanted to speak to, someone who would perhaps be able to give him first-hand news of Alexander – Lysippus.

  The sculptor was busy working in the foundry when Aristotle arrived, creating the clay model for the great statuary complex of Alexander’s troop on the Granicus, which would then be cast in its final proportions for the monument itself. It was almost evening and lamps were already burning inside the laboratory, the refectory, and in some of the guests’ rooms.

  ‘Welcome, Aristotle!’ Lysippus greeted him. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot even shake hands with you – I’m all dirty. If you wait just one moment, I will be with you.’

  Aristotle moved closer to look at the model. It was a sculpture of twenty-six characters on a platform some eight to ten feet in length. The effect was amazing – the churning of the water and the furious rhythm of the charging horses could almost be felt physically. And in it all Alexander stood out proud in his armour, the wind in his hair, astride a rampant Bucephalas.

  Lysippus rinsed his hands in a basin of water and came closer.

  ‘What do you think of it?’

  ‘Superb. What strikes one most in your works is the quivering energy within the forms, like a body in the midst of some all-consuming orgasm.’

  ‘The visitor will see them all of a sudden,’ Lysippus explained, with inspiration written all over his face as he lifted his enormous hands to describe the scene, ‘on coming over the top of a small rise. The impression will be of having the troop charging towards the observer, of being crushed by them. Alexander asked me to make them immortal and I am expending all of my energies in satisfying him and to repay, at least in part, their parents for their sad losses.’

  ‘And at the same time you are granting him the status of a living legend,’ said Aristotle.

  ‘I think that will happen without my help, won’t it?’

  Lysippus took off his leathe
r apron and hung it on a nail. ‘Supper is almost ready, will you have something to eat with us?’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ replied Aristotle, ‘Who else is here?’

  ‘Chares, my assistant,’ replied the sculptor, pointing to the young man with thin hair who was over in the corner, working away with a gouge on a piece of wood and who greeted the philosopher with a respectful bow of his head. ‘And then there is an envoy from the city of Tarant, Evemerus of Kallipolis, a good man who perhaps will have news for us of King Alexander of Epirus.’

  They left the foundry and walked along the internal portico towards the refectory. Aristotle thought sadly of the last time he had eaten there with King Philip.

  ‘Will you stay long?’ Lysippus asked.

  ‘Not very long. I have given instructions to Callisthenes, with my most recent letter to him, to reply to me here at Mieza and I am anxious to read what he has to say. Then I will go on to Aegae.’

  ‘Are you going to the old palace?’

  ‘I will make an offering at the King’s tomb and I must see a few people.’

  Lysippus hesitated for a moment. ‘I have heard a tale that you are investigating the assassination of King Philip, but perhaps these are just rumours.’

  ‘They are not rumours,’ Aristotle stated, apparently impassible.

  ‘Does Alexander know?’

  ‘I believe so, even though initially he had given the job to my nephew Callisthenes.’

  ‘And the Queen Mother?’

  ‘I have not communicated the fact to her, but Olympias has ears and eyes everywhere. It is most likely that she knows.’

  ‘And are you not afraid?’

  ‘I am confident that the regent, Antipater, will make sure that nothing untoward happens to me. Can you see that carriage driver over there?’ he said, pointing to the man who had brought him to Mieza and who that moment was tending to his mules in the stables. ‘In his bag he carries a Macedonian sword of the type issued to the palace guards.’

  Lysippus took a look at the character – a mountain of muscles who moved as stealthily as a fox. He could see, even at this distance, that he was a soldier of the royal guard. ‘By the gods! He could pose for a statue of Hercules.’