Pelephon watched Heliodas ride alongside as they struggled to keep their horses positioned close to Alexander. He could see a scowl on the man’s face as he thrust his spear repeatedly, striking faster than the enemy could respond. The younger soldier struck down six Persian spearmen in rapid succession, opening up a path to the Macedonian king.
The Persian foot soldiers did not last long against the Macedonian cavalry, and Pelephon quickly looked down his army’s ranks, unsure if they had lost even a single man. Despite their initial success, the group riding toward them looked to be more of a challenge. It was an irregular unit of men on horseback, each wearing different armor and carrying a variety of weapons. Pelephon knew that these were highly trained nobles, and they would not go down as easily as the foot soldiers had. To complicate matters, there were several archers mounted atop an elephant no more than sixty feet away, firing arrows into the oncoming Macedonian ranks. Pelephon heard the whistle of an arrow pass nearby, and he saw a mounted soldier fall from his horse just ten feet away. The succeeding arrow found the doomed soldier’s mount, which fell to the ground. The horse behind that tripped, causing that rider and mount to plow face-first into the sand.
Not far away, Alexander held his sword high over his head and charged into the oncoming nobles. Pelephon followed his king, his spear held over-hand as he struck a heavily armored man wielding a bronze-headed axe. The spear struck true and knocked the man to the ground, but failed to penetrate his armor. The blond Macedonian reined his horse back and was about to attack again when another enemy charged him from the side and buried a pair of swords in his horse’s flanks. He felt his mount go slack beneath him as red froth erupted from the animal’s mouth and nose. Pelephon fell to the ground, rolled out of the way, then looked up in time to see Heliodas’ mount suffer a similar fate. Pelephon dove to his friend’s side and helped him to his feet, just in time to face the bulk of the incoming wave of mounted Persian soldiers.
Suddenly at a severe disadvantage, Pelephon saw the Persian noblemen raise their shields and draw their swords, preparing to strike him and Heliodas down. He knew that Alexander would not slow the advance simply to save two of his guards. They were, by nature, expendable. Heliodas pointed to one of the first horses to reach them. Pelephon nodded his agreement and they both struck in unison at the beast’s chest with their swords. The horse’s own momentum helped impale the animal all the way to their grips, and the creature immediately fell over, the rider’s leg becoming pinned under the heaving bulk of the downed equine. The pair quickly ducked behind the falling mount as the other rider rode by, unable to make a clean strike against either of them. The Macedonian soldiers pulled their weapons free from the dying horse and Heliodas walked to the struggling noble, brought his sword down, and in a bloody spray, severed the man’s head from his body.
The line of Macedonians held their own during this wave of the assault, and the pair stood ready as one of the remaining enemies managed to circle his horse around for another pass. Pelephon noticed a heavy steel spear in the hands of this one. He knew that their lamellar armor would probably not be able to withstand a blow from that weapon, particularly when propelled by the might of a galloping horse. He also knew that the enemy nobleman would be anticipating an attack similar to the one that laid low his comrade. Pelephon signaled to Heliodas to feint right. His friend nodded, and the pair dodged the oncoming spear as the mount and rider rode past. As it passed by, Heliodas hooked his sword around and plunged it into the animal’s left back leg. As the horse plunged, Pelephon began moving in the same direction as the rider. He jumped up as the horse hit the ground, his sword swinging in a wide arc. His blade caught the nobleman’s neck, tapping the arteries. With a sudden eruption of blood, the man was down on the sandy ground, writhing in pain as warm crimson seeped from between his fingers.
Their immediate opponents fallen, they had a brief moment to survey the battlefield. The wedge-shaped region between the two fronts of the Persian army was quickly filling in with Macedonian soldiers, who were pressing outward against the enemy in both directions. Thirty feet away, Pelephon could see Alexander and Cleitus, both still mounted, continuing to fight the Persian nobles. Three advanced on Alexander at once, and Pelephon watched as a flurry of blades from the Macedonian king cut down two of them. The third, armed with an axe, took Alexander in the chest. A painfully stunned expression appeared on the king’s face, and he fell from his horse. The Persian noble moved in for the kill, only to come to a sudden halt as Cleitus’ sword cleaved messily through his skull. “Come here now!” Cleitus called savagely to all the nearby Macedonian soldiers.
Pelephon and Heliodas sprinted to the fallen king, as did numerous others, forming a protective circle around him. They saw no blood coming from the area where Alexander had been hit, but the king was struggling to regain his feet, and there was an unusual vacant look in his eyes. As their enemies moved to surround them, Pelephon saw one of the priests of Ares approach the king to deliver a healing touch.
What immediately ensued was a desperate struggle as the best trained soldiers in the Macedonian army squared off against the remaining mounted nobles, who still outnumbered them. Pelephon knew that they must fight well at this moment, not simply for their own survival, but for the survival of Alexander, and likely, the entire war effort. The Persian nobles moved in mercilessly, but their focus was only on the Macedonian king. By practically ignoring the soldiers protecting him, they carelessly left themselves vulnerable to a number of attacks. Pelephon slid his sword under the leather armor and into the flesh of one mounted enemy riding by, piercing his heart. As the noble toppled, Pelephon grabbed the horse’s reins and climbed atop, gaining a new mount.
Heliodas remained on his feet, deflecting blow after blow. Although he was unable to find many openings in his opponents’ defenses, he was able to interpose himself between them and the king, drawing their attention, allowing the other Macedonian soldiers to strike. Then suddenly Pelephon saw a Macedonian noble come up from behind Heliodas with two swords in hand. He saw the blades thrust forward, then saw his friend’s face twist into an agonized mask, followed by a spurt of blood erupting from his back. Heliodas fell face first to the ground and Pelephon could see a pair of punctures in the leather armor covering his back, and blood pooling up from them.
Shock and anger filled the huge Macedonian warrior. “I’ll send you to the underworld for that, you son of a whore!” he called out to the Persian noble, though he was sure that his voice was lost in the clamor of battle. He kicked his mount in the flanks, urging it to break into a quick gallop. He used the horse and its momentum as his weapon, catching the enemy broadside. Both riders and their mounts fell to the ground in an intertwined pile of flailing limbs. Pelephon struggled to extricate himself from the mess, rose up, then thrust his sword into the Persian noble’s eye socket. The man’s body fell to the ground twitching as blood poured from his nose and mouth.
Pelephon could see that Alexander was well protected. The priest of Ares had reached him. With a prayer and a hand on his holy symbol, the priest channeled the energy of the war god into the Macedonian king. The area around the holy man’s hands glowed with a soft white emanation and Alexander’s face seemed to relax.
Still more soldiers were beginning to push in on them, though, and Pelephon knew that it would be impossible for him to try to save his dying friend and remain true to his duty. Heliodas was a good man, a great soldier, and he had been rapidly becoming a good and true friend, but that blow would most likely prove to be lethal. As much as he wanted to see if there was anything he could do for him, Pelephon knew that turning from the enemy at this point would leave him open to injury while doing nothing to protect Alexander, which would be a gross dereliction of duty with his king wounded.
To complicate matters, the archers on the nearest elephant were bearing down on them, and they would soon be able to get a clean shot at Alexander if his guards could do nothing to stop the beast. Pelephon looked to Cle
itus, and he could tell that the soldier was thinking similar thoughts. Their horses would be of no value against the might of the elephant, but they were small enough targets on foot that they could chop its legs out from under it and then kill the archers with their blades. “I’m sorry for your friend, but we must stop that elephant!” Cleitus said. The two dismounted and began running toward the colossal beast. A pair of other Macedonian foot soldiers followed them, spears aimed squarely at the massive creature’s chest.
The archers fired several arrows in their direction and one of the dismounted cavalrymen went down before he reached the creature. The other three, however, arrived at the gray animal and began chopping at its legs. The blades bit deep and the creature reared up, dropping the archers to the ground.
Pelephon and Cleitus were on them in an instant, burying their blades into the archers’ midsections before they could recover their bows. The elephant was badly injured and effectively removed from the rest of the battle, so the three men left it alive and regrouped with the others from Alexander’s elite guard, who were leading the king back through the ranks of Macedonian soldiers, where he could be protected.
Pelephon could see the Macedonian warriors overtaking the Persian soldiers in the distance. Alexander’s ploy had worked, and having eliminated most of the Persian noblemen so early in the battle, they had left the Persians effectively leaderless at this point. It took very little time for the battle to become a rout. The Macedonians were energized by the effectiveness of their battle plan while their enemies were quickly losing the will to fight. Large sections of the enemy army began to surrender soon thereafter.
With the battle essentially won, the little fighting that remained taking place far away, and Alexander quickly regaining his wits, Pelephon found his way back to the place where Heliodas had fallen. He doubted that he would find anything other than a corpse, but at least he could say a few prayers and give him a proper burial before moving on.
As he walked, he was amazed at the sheer number of Persian dead that he encountered compared to the small number of Macedonians and Greeks who joined them. He wasn’t certain where Heliodas had fallen, so whenever he found a Greek body, he pulled the closed T-faced helmet off the head to see if it was him. He did this one by one, each time expecting to find his friend underneath. Nevertheless, after an hour of searching, he had found nothing. Finally he spotted the carcasses of the two horses and riders that they had brought down together just before Heliodas had been injured. There were a number of Persian dead here as well, but his friend’s body was not where it had fallen.
Hope began to rise in the soldier. He went to the ground and found the blood-soaked sand where his friend had taken the blades to the back. It did not take long for him to discover that there was a trail of blood, which led back toward the river banks. It looked as though Heliodas had crawled or been dragged across the sand of the battlefield. Pelephon followed the trail of blood, and noted a short while later that the amount of blood began to decrease, even though the compressed sand and foliage continued to the river’s edge.
For some reason Pelephon could not fathom, someone had clearly dragged Heliodas back to the water, where the trail came to an end. Maybe the one dragging Heliodas had been applying pressure to the wound as they went, or it was not as severe as it had appeared when it happened. The Macedonian fell to his knees and started moving on all fours through the water, patting the river silt in search of the body of a soldier. Suddenly he felt a hand and an arm. With grim determination, he pulled the body up to the surface, only to see that it belonged to a slain Persian foot soldier who had taken a pair of arrows through the neck.
Pelephon searched the river for another hour. The body of Heliodas was nowhere to be found. Regardless, he had seen the blows that felled him and whatever had become of the body, he held out no hope that his friend had survived.
Chapter 5
The Malcontent and the Schemer of Sparta
Months had gone by since their meeting with Alexander just north of the territory under Athens’ control, and still Lysiemon seethed at the memory. He had been appointed by the Delian League to ensure that Demosthenes represented the will of the entire alliance rather than act according to his own whims and desires. In the end, he had done the unthinkable by striking an alliance with the Macedonians and inviting their army into League territory without so much as convening the body to discuss his proposed solution to the issue.
When Demosthenes returned to Athens, he addressed the forum and told them of his actions. Lysiemon had attended the meeting, at which time he gave his account of the events, and voiced his disagreement with the decision. A brief debate had ensued, but the conclusion they reached was that that their envoy had negotiated appropriately. Lysiemon had not been particularly surprised at this turn of events, given the fact that Demosthenes held near absolute power within the polis. Technically, his political power was no greater than that of any other citizen or orator of Athens, though as general, his actual influence was greater than any politician that had existed there since Pericles. Hardly surprising, he mused, as both men held the same position. He wondered what good democracy was when the military leaders held the greatest sway over government?
Lysiemon stood before the council in Amphipolis. The polis had constantly been a source of conflict between Athens and the surrounding powers due to the fact that it was geographically close to both Macedonia and Persia. It was the nearness of so many hostile forces that necessitated joining the Delian League, yet as a polis, it remained fiercely independent. Its people were not interested in being conquered by any power, whether they claimed to be friend or foe.
On this particular evening, the topic of debate was the new alliance with Macedonia, and Lysiemon was growing tired of listening to the conversation without actually participating in it. The doddering old Aridax called for silence as he addressed the council chambers. “While I am in favor of doing anything that will increase our power within the Delian League, I feel that our resistance to the alliance is futile. Athens has already made up its mind to support Demosthenes. Amphipolis has always stood alone, but in this matter, I fail to see any viable options. Athens has always gotten what Athens wants from the League. Those who have withdrawn from the League in the past have found themselves vulnerable to the predations of their neighbors. Whether we agree with this alliance or not is a matter for the books and not something about which we can actually affect change.” The old man sat down on the marble bench as his words sank in with the other polis leaders.
Nausidorus, a man in his early thirties, with a muscular body, blond hair that hung straight from the crown of his head, a large nose that appeared to hook at the end, and who looked slightly out of place in his brown colored toga as opposed to the more casual chiton, stood and addressed the council. “Amphipolis stands at the crossroads of Persia, Macedonia, and Greece. We are Greek and we have stood with Athens for many years, but we are constantly at risk of invasion. In fact, when one great power grows angry with another and attempts conquest, our polis is usually the first casualty. I believe that this invasion will benefit us. As Macedonia turns its attention to the east, they will be less likely to care about us to the south. If their invasion is successful, then we have one less enemy to be concerned about.”
Lysiemon cleared his throat and stood, clutching his blue toga with his left hand. “Alexander is a brave fool. Once Persia finishes chewing up his army, they are going to want revenge. They will see Macedonia standing with Athens, and our armies will be sadly lacking when the time comes to defend this polis. If we remain with the Delian League, and with Athens, we will see our fair polis sacked!”
“I disagree,” said Nausidorus. “With this alliance, at worst, we are no longer the enemies of one of our neighbors. Even if the invasion fails, Macedonia will want to reinforce our polis in the event of a Persian invasion. Failure to do that will eliminate an important buffer zone between Persia and their borders.”
“T
he army marching to the east is forty thousand strong,” Lysiemon countered. “I have heard reports that the majority of Macedonia is now guarded by a token defense force. Suppose that Alexander’s army is wiped out; do you really think that they’ll have the resources to defend us?”
Crateperchon, a man of advancing years, but who had not yet lost his vitality or the brown in his long curly hair, stood and addressed the council. “I’m afraid that I share Lysiemon’s trepidation over these events, but I also share Aridax’s resignation to the fact that we must follow Athens or face the greater risk of standing alone. The other member poleis of the Delian League are no doubt having similar debates over this as we speak, yet I seriously doubt that we will see any of them secede over this matter. Also, let us not forget that as long as we are part of the League, we are protected by Athens, and Athens did not commit nearly the same size of force to this war effort as Macedonia. They too would protect this polis in the event of a Persian invasion.”
Lysiemon rolled his eyes and returned to his feet. “Yes,” he said, “because Athens won’t be more concerned with protecting itself in the event of an invasion. Just like when Athens moved the seat of the League from the island of Delos to Athens and then proceeded to embezzle the money they were entrusted with so that they could build the Parthenon for themselves. Gentlemen, with friends like that, do we even need enemies?”
As Lysiemon sat down, a number of hushed conversations broke out throughout the council chamber. He had finally managed to drive his point home with the others. The conversations grew louder, causing a disruption in the proceedings. The moderator, the stern faced balding Antalgorus called for order several times before the room became quiet once again. “It would seem that our choices are very limited. We can either choose to allow Athens to continue dictating the actions of the Delian League and follow along, we can lodge a complaint with them but otherwise follow their lead, or we can choose to secede from the League and potentially face three hostile neighbors instead of merely one. Does anyone object to taking a vote on those three courses of action?” Silence ensued, meaning that the debate had reached a conclusion.
Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1) Page 7