The Atlantis Papyrus

by Jay Penner

  “May Zeus protect us from the heavens, and Demeter guide,” he said, and turned his horse to return to his wing. We saluted and watched as his cape receded.

  We waited for him to charge.

  And then we heard the distant sounds of bugles and horns rising above the din of soldiers and critters, and our segment grew deathly quiet.

  Our war bugles blared, and there was the same great excitement that reminded me of rushing into battle in India. Pharnabazus signaled the cavalry. The magnificent galloping horses kicked up grass and earth as they charged. Their manes glistened in the Sun as they charged. The smell of dug up soil and ripped grass suddenly enveloped my senses. I prayed to Poseidon and asked him to protect me and let me go to my family. It would be a foolish end to my journey if I were to die now.

  Eumenes was too far away for me to see, and I prayed that we would meet again, in victory, after this battle.

  Our forces climbed the gentle intervening hill and then rushed down the slopes. At a distance, Craterus’ troops were not yet in full battle-ready formation. Craterus’ cavalry scrambled. Their behavior showed that we had surprised them with our sudden advance. As we approached the flat ground, the enemy finally charged. I could finally make out Craterus. The kausia hat he wore was as distinct as the favorite General. As we neared, I noticed that there was a flaw in their formation. Craterus had a significant gap between him and his senior officers and bodyguards.

  Why would he—

  That was when it dawned on me; our ploy had worked. Craterus thought he would face the Macedonians, whom he would impress and then turn them to his side. I wished I could see his face when he realized that the enemy had no idea who he was. He was vulnerable with a gap by his side that the Cappadocians could exploit.

  Pharnabazus ordered his lieutenants to charge the gap. Meanwhile, the rest of the cavalry met in a great clash. I stayed in the center, commanding a small group. Swords glinted and connected, missiles hurtled in the air, and a great noise engulfed the space. Craterus’ cavalry was no slouch, and the fight was even. The injured and the dead soon littered the ground. The screams, moans, neighs, clashing of metal, thundering hoofs on the ground, all intermingled to create the now familiar cacophony of battle. It was the music of death in the theater of Dionysus.

  I faced a Macedonian who charged me after slipping through my protective ring. When he missed his blow, I hacked his shoulder open like ripe pear and shredded the skin. Flesh and blood embraced the sharp iron like a coat in a cold winter. He fell to the ground, and I turned my horse towards the fallen man. I raised my javelin and thrust it through his chest, and a bold fountain of blood erupted from his mouth. He convulsed, and his eyes lost their light.

  I turned my horse and looked back. The Cappadocian cavalry had formed an arc around Craterus’ troops to prevent a breakout. The longer he fought, the higher the risk. If they routed our cavalry, this would be the end.

  I spotted the hat in the far corner. The Cappadocians had exploited the gap well and isolated Craterus. His officers fought to get closer without success. I marveled at his dexterity when he blocked one attacker with a sword and thrust his javelin into another. He exhorted his men and brilliantly maneuvered around his attackers—and I began to worry that if we did not contain him, the tide would turn. But as I watched, a Thracian managed to poke Craterus, and the General lost his balance. I watched as his hands failed to grab the harness and he tumbled to the ground.

  Craterus tried to get up, but his horse, panicking without its rider and harassed by a Cappadocian, kicked the general in the head. Craterus’ kausia flew, and he was thrown back like a rag doll in a comical drama. My heart felt like it would explode with grief. On the ground lay bloody, alone, and unrecognized—one of my idols. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a horseman charge towards Craterus.

  “No!” I screamed; my voice unheard in the din. The horse delivered an aimed kick to Craterus’ exposed face and smashed it to a pulp. His body began to twitch. I rushed towards Craterus and by me was a trusted officer of Eumenes whom I ordered to guard Craterus’ body. Craterus’ men saw what happened and they began to dither—news of his fall spread amongst the cavalry. Many lost the will to fight, and unable to retrieve their fallen leader, they began to withdraw. Eumenes’ instructions were clear. If the Cappadocians achieved victory on their wing, they were to aid Eumenes’ cavalry. Leaving a small force behind, we rushed across towards Eumenes’ cavalry.

  The situation there was grave, a lot many were dead or dying, and groups of soldiers were fighting in pockets. There was no sign of victory, but all that changed when we caused a great noise and attacked the enemy from behind.

  When they heard that Craterus was dead, the troop's dedication began to falter. The battle turned and then became a slaughter. There was no mercy as we hacked, thrust, and stabbed away at their one-time companions. Severed limbs, intestines, heads, and torsos began to pile up as soldiers stepped over them. We chased Neoptolemus’ cavalry which ran to the protection of their untested phalanx, and we broke the pursuit as it would be foolhardy to attack a fresh Phalanx without the aid of our own.

  I then made way through the debris of the battleground and found Eumenes, standing with his head bowed. He had removed his helmet, and his wet, matted hair fell slick on his blood-stained cape. I dismounted and walked towards him. He was bleeding from his elbow and thighs.

  On the ground lay Neoptolemus, his body covered in many gashes, and his neck cut wide open. His eyes looked like glassy marbles but with no joyful light in them.

  One of the officers whispered to me. “Eumenes engaged Neoptolemus hand-to-hand and killed him!”

  I looked at Eumenes with profound admiration. He looked at me and broke into a grin, and then spat blood on the ground. But there was one more matter to attend to. I walked to Eumenes and whispered, “Craterus.”

  He arched his eyebrows, and then, accompanied by some other officers, joined me as we galloped to where Craterus lay. When we reached, Eumenes hurried to Craterus, limping, and stood over the mass of red. He ordered two soldiers to pick Craterus and place him on a gurney.

  Craterus reminded us of our mortality, and that no matter how great a man, we all serve at the pleasure of God.

  I wondered who was next.

  And then Eumenes held the fallen general’s hand and bowed. At that moment, Craterus stirred. He let out a guttural moan like a deeply wounded animal, startling us, and tried to open his swollen, fractured right eye. His mouth coughed up dark, thick blood. There was still life in this fighter. Clouds slowly moved over the fiery Sun and the glint off Craterus’ earring faded.

  It was a sign from the heavens. To my great surprise, tears rolled off Eumenes’ cheeks. My eyes welled up as well, and I pretended to survey the landscape.

  “O’ Craterus! What fool were you to array with that incompetent traitor Neoptolemus? Why did you force me to bring upon you this fate, my friend?” Eumenes lamented. Craterus stirred and sighed. Eumenes placed his palm over the fallen general’s skinned forehead. He then thrust his kopis into Craterus' chest—a final gurgle came from Craterus' blood-filled throat. He kissed Craterus’ forehead, and we stood around, heads bowed.

  In one day, the little secretary had outmaneuvered Alexander's greatest general and vanquished another.

  But it was also time for me to get my dues and leave.

  Eumenes performed last rites and sent Craterus’ ashes to his wife. Then, before local looters arrived at the battle scene, Eumenes’ men scoured the battlefield to strip the fallen of their weapons, jewelry, and any fine clothes. Finally, late in the afternoon, he summoned me to his tent. He rested his wounded leg and clapped as I entered.

  “You have come far from managing papers for Alexander, Governor,” I said, with genuine respect and affection for the man. I had noticed his conduct on the battlefield—as cunning and clever as he was, he was also a decent man, unlike the cruel tyrants among the Macedonians, Perdiccas coming foremost to mind.

/>   Eumenes smiled. He had had his hair trimmed short.

  “Did a pretty girl from the baggage train ask you to cut your hair?” I asked.

  He rubbed his fingers through his scalp. “Neoptolemus tried to grab me by the hair. I did likewise and pulled him down to the ground.”

  The hair was a liability.

  “It is a problem you should not have to worry about, Deon.” He grinned and then continued, “The Macedonians will never accept my command with absolute loyalty, will they?” he asked, and his voice dropped low.

  “You know the answer to that, General.”

  “Perhaps Zeus wishes me to burn Alexander’s empire and build my Greek empire on its ashes and bones?”

  His eyes blazed with ambition, and desire burned hot in him. But we both knew that under the present circumstances, there would be no Macedonian empire run by a former Greek bookkeeper.

  “How do you see this develop, with the Regent on his way to Egypt?” I asked, curious to see what he thought.

  He gazed towards the far hills towards the South, thoughtfully. “If Perdiccas wins, our joint forces will take on the others. But if Perdiccas loses, his army will splinter—some will go to Ptolemy, and others will go to Antigonus. Unless I muster significant new reserves, there is no hope for me to grow my army.”

  “Which makes your quest to find this new capital of Atlantis even more crucial.”

  “What do you know about building an empire, or even securing a country, Deon?” He said, surprising me with the change in direction.

  “I can offer a commentary or two about building armies of babies, that would not be a bad—"

  “Not the time,” he scolded me; chastised, I returned to the topic.

  “I’m a soldier, not a king, sir.”

  “You build an empire by conquering lands. You conquer lands using great armies. You build great armies by finding the best men and rewarding them well. But that is not enough. Once you conquer, you must hold cities and ports. To hold them you must fortify them with walls, siege towers, guards. And then you must protect the citizens, supply your troops, secure, and expand the roads, canals, forts. Then you must administer it all. No one hands you an empire ready for use.”

  “I imagine the immense complexity and the need for money, sir.”

  Eumenes nodded. He stretched his leg and grimaced. The physicians had padded his thigh with poultice and tied a tight cloth, and yet the blood seeped through it. He took a sip from his wine cup and relaxed on his seat; he was bare above his waist, an uncommon sight for this slight man. Rivulets of sweat flowed down his hairless chest.

  Eumenes continued. “You must then encourage trade. You must find sources of revenue, cultivate them, protect them—gold, grain, slaves, spices, women, all tenderable value. You must decide on taxes, impose them, ensure no one is cheating; but to raise adequate tax revenue, you must appoint administrators, revenue collectors, accountants, and inspectors. And all that takes more troops and money.”

  I suppressed my smile watching Eumenes deliver his speech. It was as if he imagined a large audience in front of him. He continued, gesturing, and swinging his arms. “You have learned this by now, Deon, that your troops are only as loyal as you can reward them.”

  I nodded. Most soldiers were mercenaries for the highest bidder.

  Eumenes continued, as he smoothed the creases on his dress. “A leader must not only forge alliances and define strategy, but also help troops expand their loot. We now face a major war, and we have no king. The men with the most money will not only rule Europe and Asia, but they will execute the rest of us without hesitation. The victors will establish legitimacy as they please.”

  “I understand.”

  “You realize that finding this city is critical for our very survival. We have a chance to define our destiny.”

  I nodded. Eumenes then picked a jug of water from a clay pot by his side and took several gulps. His face was red and glistened with sweat. Small droplets of sweat tickled the nape of my neck and balding head.

  He wiped his face with a towel and continued. “You would have no idea where it is, would you?” he asked.

  “Sir, if I knew where it was and wanted to betray you, I would be sitting on Ptolemy’s lap now.”

  His eyes dropped for a moment, and his cheeks flushed at that admonishment. But I had not endured everything I did only for him to question my loyalty. We paused, and I helped him stand up. He winced in pain from the injury, but we knew that recovery needed both rest and exercise.

  He began to limp within the spacious tent.

  “Now let us return to the topic we have been waiting to talk about,” he said.

  I was ready. It was time to let Eumenes pursue his ambitions and let me go. “Plato is a mischievous creature—he will cause many to search for the original Atlantis,” I remarked, smiling.

  “Including you,” Eumenes said, and while his lips curled in a smile, his eyes conveyed no mirth. “You have to find the location of the first Atlantis to understand where to find the second,” he continued, as he lifted an idol of Zeus to his eye level and inspected it.

  My heart palpitated. My mission was to bring the secret to Eumenes and go home. Finding the Second Atlantis, as exciting it may be, was not the original contract. I gathered my composure.

  “I was to go home at the completion of this mission, sir,” I said, as I hunched and put my palms together as if in prayer.

  “Circumstances have changed—”

  “We had an agreement, sir!” my voice rose. The guard outside peeked in.

  “As I said, circumstances have changed, and I am unable to reward you and let you on your way,” he said, refusing to match my anger.

  The veins in my temple began to pulse. I clenched my fist behind my back. “Can you please discharge me then, sir?”

  He shook his head like a master at his disobedient pupil. “You will go nowhere,” he said.

  I rubbed my face as the reality dawned on me. My temple began to throb. “But we had an agreement, sir! I looked upon you as Alexander, and my family will die if I do not return!” I shouted.

  I had to return!

  Two guards stepped in.

  Eumenes turned to them, “Stay outside unless I ask you to come in.”

  They both glared at me as they returned to their post. Eumenes leaned and placed his palm on my shoulder.

  I recoiled.

  “Listen to me, Deon, your best chance is to continue the mission. If you succeed, I promise you that I will reward you far beyond anything you ever imagined.”

  “Why is it my best chance, sir?”

  “If you return now, coinless, do you think you can free your family? You know that I cannot let you defect to Ptolemy or Antigonus. Who knows what stories they might hear about you?” The threat was unmistakable. Even if I somehow managed to deal with my lender, I would always be under threat from any one of the diadochi.

  My face felt hot like coals.

  “You become a king, and I return to the graves of my wife and daughter,” I said, now facing him. I ground my teeth until it hurt, and my shoulders throbbed from tension. I knew he would not touch me—not with what I hid in my head.

  “Don’t be dramatic. Your family will be safe, as long as you complete this quest.”

  “How would you know that?” I hissed like a trapped snake.

  “Because I do,” he said, “now shut up and listen to me!” His eyes lit by a maniacal glint and gone was the gentle face, and in its place was the strident reproach of a commanding officer.

  “But why me, sir? Why not send some of your other trusted officers.”

  “I need them by my side because these battles are not over yet. Do you think Antigonus is out there scratching his withered balls and whoring around? He will come after me next. Besides, no one else knows of this.”

  "What?"

  “Yes—and it shows the level of trust I have in you. I cannot set anyone else on this task. You have the mind and the skills
. We both need each other.”

  I persisted. “Why not go along with your army? Would that not be the safest thing to do?”

  Eumenes exploded. “Do you think I’m a stupid road mender, Deon? Do you think a goat’s arse is in my skull?” he screamed, tapping his head vigorously.

  “No, sir, but—”

  “How prudent do you think it is for me to move my entire army and draw attention? Besides, where would I even go? We should search first without anyone noticing. I will move the army once we know the exact place and know that to be true!”

  There was no way out for me.

  Eumenes was in a desperate situation and I was his hope.

  We listened to the hum of grass bugs. Eumenes gestured me to sit, and I refused. He continued, “It should not take a military genius to understand what any one of those men would do if they came to the possession of this city. You think there has been enough blood spilled already—this would be nothing to what someone like Antigonus will unleash.”

  Finally, my shoulders slumped. The best course of action for me, my family, and while it sounded pompous—even the empire—was for me to find this Second Atlantis. “What if it is too late for my family? Can you keep them safe?” I asked, and his expression softened.

  “You give me too little credit, Deon,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “You think I had no idea who your family was or where they were?”

  My fingers tingled with fear and dread.

  “I did not—”

  “Be quiet,” he said and then walked to a shelf. He made a show of searching for something in a large leather bag. He began to mutter, “Could your family be safe? How would one know? What if they are not?” I was puzzled by the behavior, and just then he pulled out a parchment and held it up.

  A letter!

  I reached out, and he pulled it back. It felt childish, but Eumenes had not finished what he had to say. “I arranged for a messenger to bring a letter from your family,” he said, and his eyes smiled, “so control your tongue before you berate me again.”