Conquest of Persia
By Alexander Geiger
Prime Directive (2013)
Flood Tide (2019)
Conquest of Persia (2019)
Immortal Alexandros (2020)
Funeral Games (2021)
Book Three of the Ptolemaios Saga
Conquest of Persia
An Epic Novel of the Triumph of Alexander the Great
Alexander Geiger
Copyright © 2019 by Alexander Geiger
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
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ISBN-13: 978-0-9892584-6-3 (pbk)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9892584-7-0 (ebook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019937858
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First Edition
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To the memory of Alice Geiger,
who taught me the meaning of unconditional love.
Table of Contents
Maps and Animated Battle Depictions
List of Principal Characters
Chapter 1 – Fruits of Victory
Chapter 2 – Marching Down the Coast
Chapter 3 – Tyros
Chapter 4 – Gaza
Chapter 5 – Pharaoh
Chapter 6 – Oasis of Ammon
Chapter 7 – The Runup
Chapter 8 – Gaugamela
Chapter 9 – Babylon
Chapter 10 – On the March Again
Chapter 11 – Sousa
Chapter 12 – Persepolis
Author’s Note
Additional Materials
Acknowledgements
About the Author
“. . . courage is the knowledge of the grounds of fear and hope . . .”
Plato, Laches, 196[1]
Maps and Animated Battle Depictions
Map 1 – Ancient Macedonia and its Environs
Map 2 – Mainland Greece in 336 B.C.E.
Map 3 – Lands Traversed by Alexandros in 335 and early 334 B.C.E.
Map 4 - Lands Traversed by Alexandros, May 334 -- November 333 B.C.E.
Map 5 - Miletos and its Environs, c. 334 B.C.E.
Map 6 – Halikarnassos, c. 334 B.C.E.
Map 7 - Movements of Persian and Pan-Hellenic Armies Prior to Issos
Map 8 - Lands Traversed by Alexandros, November 333 – May 330 B.C.E.
Map 9 – Siege of Tyros, 332 B.C.E.
Map 10 – Egypt, 4th Century B.C.E.
Map 11 – Babylon, c. 331 B.C.E.
Map 12 – Persian Satrapies, 4th Century B.C.E.
Battle 1 – Chaironeia – August 338 B.C.E.
Battle 2 – Granikos – May 334 B.C.E.
Battle 3 – Issos – November 333 B.C.E.
Battle 4 – Gaugamela – September 331 B.C.E.
List of Principal Characters[2]
Alexandros Aniketos (356-323) – King of Macedonia (336-323)
Antigone (unk-unk) – Philotas’s mistress
Antigonos Monophthalmos (c. 382-301) – Military commander under both Philippos and Alexandros; appointed satrap of Phrygia by Alexandros
Antipatros (397-319) – Macedonian nobleman; served as regent under both Philippos and Alexandros
Aristandros of Telmessos (c. 380-331) – Alexandros’s seer
Aristoteles (384-322) – Alexandros’s teacher in Mieza
Arrhidaios (358-317) – Alexandros’s half-wit half-brother
Artabazos (c.387-c.328) – Persian nobleman; father of Barsine and Artakama, among others
Artakama (347-unk) – Artabazos’s daughter; Barsine’s sister
Barsine (355-309) – Alexandros’s mistress
Bessos (unk-329) – Satrap of Baktria
Dareios (c.380-330) – Persian Emperor (336-330)
Hephaistion (356-324) – Alexandros’s closest friend
Kallisthenes (c.368-327) – Aristoteles great nephew; accompanied Alexandros as campaign historian
Kassandros (358-297) – Antipatros’s son
Kleitos Melas (c.357-327) – A commander in Alexandros’s army
Kleopatra (354-308) – Daughter of Philippos and Olympias; Alexandros’s sister
Krateros (365-320) – A commander in Alexandros’s army
Lysimachos (360-282) – A commander in Alexandros’s army
Mazaios (380-328) – Persian nobleman; satrap of Babylonia and Mesopotamia
Nikanoros (358-331) – A commander in Alexandros’s army; Parmenion’s son
Olympias (a/k/a Myrtale) (377-314) – Philippos’s 4th wife; mother of Alexandros Aniketos
Parmenion (400-330) – Leading Macedonian general; served both Philippos and Alexandros
Perdikkas (359-321) – A commander in Alexandros’s army
Philippos Amyntou Makedonios (382-336) – King of Macedonia (359-336); father of Alexandros
Philippos of Akarnia (unk-unk) – Alexandros’s physician
Philotas (360-330) – A commander in Alexandros’s army; Parmenion’s son
Ptolemaios Metoikos (c.364-282) – One of Alexandros’s bodyguards
Seleukos (358-281) – A commander in Alexandros’s army
Sisygambis (unk-323) – Dareios’s mother
Stateira (c.365-331) – Dareios’s 1st wife
Thais (unk-unk) – Famous Athenian hetaira
Chapter 1 – Fruits of Victory
As she applied aromatic oils to her face and body, Barsine tried to imagine how Alexandros prepared for battle. The last time they had played together, she had been eleven and he twelve. She remembered him as a bright, self-assured, determined kid, who laughed a great deal. She suspected that his life experiences during the intervening eleven years might have leavened his sense of humor, assuming he had any sense of humor left. She looked at herself in the large mirror standing in the corner of her luxurious tent, hefting her breasts and twisting from side to side. Even after four children, her arsenal was as formidable as ever.
She tried to recall the last time she had enjoyed a genuine, heart-felt, spontaneous laugh but all that came to mind were the many instances when she pretended to be amused by the jokes of the men who controlled her life. And she was determined to laugh at the least provocation in the presence of the latest man to take possession of her. Having outlined her eyelids with kohl, she crinkled her eyes in mock merriment as she checked her handiwork in the mirror. It was important, she knew, that her entire face, including her eyes, be in on the joke.
She dressed in reverse order, donning the items she expected to remain on her the longest first. She started with the ankle bracelets, thin strands of gold bearing tiny bells that tinkled tantalizingly every time she moved her legs. Next came the gold bands that circled up her wrists, emphasizing the slender elegance of her arms. The necklace, with the long, agate pendant nestled provocatively in her cleavage, completed her jewelry ensemble. She chose to dispense with undergarments, putting on nothing more than a light linen chiton, the color of blushing peach, fastening it at each shoulder with matching gold clasps, and letting the fabric drape in a graceful arc far down her bosom. She then ingathered the dress beneath her brea
sts, belted it at the waist, and carefully arranged the pleats, seeing to it that they were even and straight, all the way down to the floor. Finally, she put up her luxuriant black hair in an artful bun, making sure it would cascade down her shoulders at the pull of a pin.
She had done this many times before but never quite so deliberately. Let others bewail their fate as captives. She had a job to do, children to protect. Finding herself in Alexandros’s custody was a stroke of luck and she was not about to let it pass her by. She fought the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She wondered whether he felt any jitters going into battle. Finally ready for Alexandros’s visit, she positioned herself demurely on the only chair in the tent, facing the entrance flap, hands folded in her lap, and waited.
She had no idea how long she had waited, having fallen asleep at some point. She was awakened by the touch of a man’s hand on her bare shoulder.
“You haven’t changed a bit.” The man laughed. He was clearly drunk but evidently in a good humor.
She offered him more wine. “I can’t say the same about you, sire. Last time I saw you, you were a boy. And now you’re the ruler of half the world.”
“Flattery will get me every time, Barsine, but you needn’t call me ‘sire.’ I’m still the same boy you remember from Pella.”
She smiled warmly, letting her dimples crease her cheeks and the tips of her perfect teeth peek out through parted lips. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember those muscles rippling beneath your tunic the last time I saw you.”
“Let me take a closer look at you.” Alexandros put down his wine cup and retrieved an oil lamp from its shelf. He inspected her in silence. “They told me you were beautiful but they have no idea what they’re talking about. To call you beautiful is like calling a rose red. Doesn’t quite get the idea across.”
She blushed on cue, illustrating his point.
“I hope you understand why I decided to keep you as my guest,” he continued. “I thought you’d be safer this way than if I’d let you go.”
“I’m honored to be your guest, sire. And there’s no place else I’d rather be.”
“Tell me what’s happened to you since last I saw you.”
She provided an edited version of her history. She mentioned her two arranged marriages but emphasized their involuntary nature. Understandably she neglected to mention any resultant issue. And then she quickly switched the subject to his military adventures. Alexandros spoke for a long time while she listened, transported by every detail.
“What’s that?” she suddenly cried, noticing the bandage on his thigh when the bottom of his tunic rode up.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” He laughed. “Just a scratch I received the other day.”
“You must let me take care of it,” she insisted. “I have all kinds of unguents here for the treatment of wounds.”
“No, that’s fine. My physician already did that. And really, it’s no big deal.”
But she persisted, removing the bandage and admiring the rapidly healing dagger wound by the light of the oil lamp. “I can do a better job than your physician,” she told him confidently.
She proceeded to apply a cooling ointment, carefully rubbing it all around the wound. It was clearly making her patient feel better, so she applied a little more, covering a slightly greater area.
Alexandros would have been more than human had he withstood her ministrations. Soon, the proceedings were far beyond his control. The hair pin came out, the shoulder clasps were unfastened, the belt untied, and the blushing peach chiton fluttered to the floor. He was not interested in removing her jewelry ensemble, finding the synchronized tintinnabulation of her ankle bracelets strangely arousing.
By the time he awoke in her bed the next morning, the effects of the wine had worn off but he was still completely besotted.
*******
Dareios, accompanied by a handful of bodyguards, rode all night, never slackening his pace. When his horse could go no farther, he switched mounts with one of his bodyguards and pressed ahead, leaving the poor man behind to fend for himself. When daylight arrived, he discarded his royal purple cloak, took off his armor, removed all imperial insignia, handed it all to another bodyguard, and told him to stay where he was and await further instructions. When his diminishing group reached the Euphrates River after a punishing day of riding, he didn’t pause to rest. He swam across, pulling his horse behind him, jumped back aboard, dripping wet, and continued to ride through a second night.
Dareios couldn’t stop, even for a brief nap, not only because he was sure Alexandros and his army were right on his heels but also because, every time he closed his eyes, he could still see Alexandros’s face, as the Macedonian slashed his way toward Dareios’s chariot. He knew that he shouldn’t have abandoned the battlefield, that he should have stood his ground and, if necessary, died in hand-to-hand combat with his adversary. As he replayed the scene in his mind, hour after tiring hour, he was unable to understand what exactly had caused him to flee. He had participated in many battles – had been a great soldier, in fact. He was not afraid of death, which was inevitable for all mortals. What mattered was the manner of one’s departure. His army was not losing at that critical juncture. From all the reports he had received until that moment, they were well on their way to a famous victory. For all he knew, the Persian army did in fact prevail in the end, notwithstanding his premature departure. Well, actually he knew to a moral certainty that they had lost but only because their commander had fled the battlefield.
Why? What had caused him, in an instant of madness, to throw away a lifetime of training, belief, and achievement? His hasty flight could well cost him his very life because the generals, the courtiers, the nobility, the rank-and-file soldiers, the lowly attendants, the bodyguards charged with protecting him, none of them would stand for an emperor who was a coward. He wanted to rage against the gods who had abandoned him but he was not a particularly superstitious man and he knew he couldn’t lay the fault at the doorstep of Ahura Mazda or any of the other, lesser spirits. He accepted the authorship of his own demise and sought merely an explanation. It had to be that visage.
There was nothing remarkable about Alexandros’s face as Dareios recalled it during his long nocturnal ride. The Macedonian king’s eyes were alert, focused, and burning with joy. His countenance was clear, composed, concentrated, and confident. There was no doubt he was enjoying his work but what had shaken Dareios was the realization that Alexandros knew he would win. It wasn’t that the gods had abandoned Dareios; it was more that they had switched sides and were fighting on Alexandros’s behalf and Alexandros knew it. At least that was how it seemed to Dareios, in that split second when their eyes had locked and Dareios had found himself running away.
Midmorning, on the second day after the Battle of Issos, Dareios and his three remaining bodyguards were overtaken by a small dust storm and completely lost their way. Stumbling onto an irrigation canal, they followed it upstream and found themselves in a small farming village on the left bank of the Euphrates. They hadn’t eaten in two days. They were dressed in dirty, smelly, torn tunics, although they still had their swords and daggers. Their faces were streaked with dust, sweat, and desperation.
Dareios alighted at the first hut they reached and poked his head through the entrance hole, eliciting a frightened shriek. “Don’t be scared.” He kept his tone level and soothing. “We’re wayfarers, on our way to Marduk’s shrine. We mean you no harm.” There was no response. “Can you give us something to eat and drink?” Still nothing. “We can pay,” Dareios cajoled.
Finally, a young girl, perhaps twelve years old, emerged from the gloom at the back of the hut and approached gingerly, reaching out a hand to touch his face, as though unsure whether she was dealing with a man or a specter. “I won’t bite, I promise,” Dareios said. “Now, where is your mother?” The young girl brushed wordlessly past him and ran away, leaving behind one crestfallen emperor and three forlorn bodyguards.
There was no one else in the hut but they did find some freshly-baked bread, which they promptly devoured. They also took a chance on a pitcher of seemingly clean water. Then they resumed their desperate journey. In their rush, they neglected to leave behind any coins for the bread they had consumed.
Dareios didn’t halt his headlong flight until he had reached the walls of Babylon, eight days later. Arriving after dusk, he snuck into his own palace under cover of darkness. The only thing that saved him from being killed on the spot was the fact that the emperor was away and the guards had relaxed their vigilance in his absence. When Dareios was finally recognized by his chamberlain, he bathed, ate, donned his regalia, and suppressed his trepidation long enough to issue a few orders. He had the guards who had permitted him to penetrate the palace summarily executed; he exiled the chamberlain and his assistants, who had witnessed his humiliation, to the farthest reaches of Sogdiana; he ordered all eight gates of Babylon sealed and regular patrols mounted on the walls, in anticipation of the arrival of Alexandros’s army, which he was sure was in hot pursuit; and he summoned his court scribe, telling him to bring plenty of writing materials and to come alone.
*******
Contrary to Dareios’s expectations, the pan-Hellenic army was going nowhere fast. Alexandros had wanted to give chase the moment he saw the Persian emperor take to his heels but, at that point, the outcome of the battle still hung in the balance. Alexandros chose to assist his beleaguered troops and secure victory, even at the cost of breaking off his pursuit of Dareios. By the time the fighting was finished, the opportunity to capture the opposing commander had slipped from his grasp. Rather than mounting a pointless goose chase, Alexandros decided to give his soldiers a much-needed rest.
He did dispatch his second-in-command, Parmenion, with a battalion of infantry and a couple squadrons of cavalry, to the dusty little town of Damaskos, where Dareios had maintained his temporary headquarters prior to the Battle of Issos. Parmenion’s instructions were to take the city and capture the rest of Dareios’s treasury, harem, and baggage train. But, with the exception of Parmenion’s small force, Alexandros, his commanders, and the rank-and-file soldiers all paused to enjoy the fruits of their victory and to contemplate their rosy prospects. They participated in thanksgiving rites, athletic games, musical contests, and endless banquets. Alexandros conferred decorations for conspicuous bravery, made generous distributions of booty, and, unfortunately, delivered many heart-felt funeral speeches.
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