Conquest of Persia

by Alexander Geiger

  In my hurry to get away, I almost bowled over a young man heading in the opposite direction. “Kallisthenes! When did you get back?”

  “I literally just arrived. I’m trying to find Alexandros’s tent.”

  “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  When we had first entered Pelousion to begin our “conquest” of Egypt, and once it had become clear we wouldn’t be encountering much opposition, Alexandros had decided that Kallisthenes should don his “scientific cloak” and embark on a voyage of discovery to find the source of the Nile and to collect any exotic specimens he might encounter along the way. Although Alexandros detailed a small band of soldiers to accompany Kallisthenes, it struck me at the time as a suicide mission, the kind of assignment I used to get when Aristandros was still trying to get me killed. I was therefore pleased to see that Kallisthenes had made it back alive. “So, what did you discover?”

  “I can’t tell you, Metoikos.” He struggled to contain his excitement. “Our king must be the first to hear.”

  “He’s the pharaoh now.”

  “Not the king?”

  “Well, both. And the son of Ammon, too.”

  Kallisthenes gave me a puzzled look but, before I could explain, we reached Alexandros’s tent, putting an end to our conversation.

  Alexandros was in the midst of making his dispositions for Egypt. He gave a slight nod in our direction to acknowledge our entrance but then resumed the business at hand. It was soon evident he was following his usual blueprint for the governance of conquered territories. He retained as much of the local bureaucracy as possible, while making sure all tribute and tax revenue would be diverted to his own coffers and superimposing a layer of his own designees to oversee the administration of the province. In light of Egypt’s long history of rebellion against outside rulers, he was more meticulous than usual in leaving behind an adequate military force to discourage any uprisings. He stationed large garrisons in Pelousion and Memphis and deployed a naval squadron to patrol the Nile delta. In a departure from his previous custom, he ordered the garrison and fleet commanders to report directly to him, rather than to a provincial satrap. And in recognition of the seductive riches of Egypt, which had a tendency to corrupt even the most upright governors, he split up civil administrative responsibilities among several individuals. The entire machinery of tax collection remained in Egyptian hands, up to and including the chief tax collectors for Upper and Lower Egypt. These chief tax collectors were again directed to report directly to Alexandros, although they were supposed to deliver their collections to a Naukratian Greek named Kleomenes, who was expected to act as the receiver, and transmitter, of taxes. Other than being told to make sure all the taxes were duly collected and see to it that none of the revenue stuck to his hands in the process of transmission, Kleomenes was given very little authority over the civil affairs in Egypt and no authority at all over any military forces. Two other Macedonian generals were appointed to oversee the civil government of the province and to report, once again directly, to Alexandros. No single individual was designated as satrap of Egypt. In theory, all these autonomous commanders and bureaucrats were supposed to keep an eye on each other and to inform Alexandros immediately if any of their colleagues were plotting to seize control of the people, wealth, or resources of the province.

  While Alexandros was talking, Kallisthenes kept fidgeting. I could tell he was barely able to contain himself. Once or twice, I was sure he was on the verge of interrupting the pharaoh. Finally, Alexandros dismissed the assembled dignitaries, leaving only the usual commanders, aides, and bodyguards in the tent. Kallisthenes edged forward, his right hand rising, his mouth half open, but Alexandros ignored him, engaging in some light-hearted banter with his entourage instead. It soon became clear, at least to me, that Alexandros, having noticed Kallisthenes’s eagerness, was planning to torment his young scribe for as long as possible. Hephaistion, attuned as usual to the vagaries of his friend’s whims, suddenly remembered that the two of them were expected at that very instant at a pomegranate-seed-spitting contest on a nearby wharf. Upon hearing the reminder, Alexandros rose briskly to his feet and, nodding solemnly to the soldiers around him, headed for the exit.

  “But sire!” Kallisthenes’s desperation was stamped on his face. Alexandros pretended not to have heard and continued to walk. Kallisthenes lunged forward. If I had not grabbed him, he might have tackled his king.

  When Alexandros reached the tent flap, he spun on his heels and laughed. “So, did you discover the source of the Nile?”

  “Me?” Kallisthenes was momentarily discomposed, unsure whether the question was addressed to him. His response provoked fresh gales of laughter among the men in the tent.

  “No, I was asking the crocodile that is sneaking up behind your butt. Of course, you. Didn’t I send you to find the source of the Nile?”

  “Yes you did, sire.”

  “Well, did you find it?”

  “I found out about it, yes, although I didn’t see it myself. Or should I say, I didn’t see them myself.”

  Alexandros paused in his laughter. “What do you mean, them?”

  “Well, sire, as you ordered me, I sailed upstream with my men. We reached Memphis in four days ...”

  “That’s good speed.”

  “... then Thebes, eight days later. The farther south we sailed, the swifter the current became and the weaker and less frequent the breezes from the north that had helped drive us at the outset. After Thebes, our sail was useless and the men had to row hard to make any progress at all against the ever-strengthening current. It was seven long days of unremitting labor to get to the southern border of Upper Egypt. The farthest reach of Egyptian authority is marked by a city called Syene. Unfortunately, its inhabitants seemed less than friendly; we thought it prudent to refrain from docking. Instead, we stopped at a long, skinny island in the middle of the river, called Elephantine. I couldn’t find out whether it had gotten its name because of the brisk ivory trade that was conducted on the island or because its shape resembles an elephant’s tusk. We rested at the trading post on the island for two days. I’d never seen a more diverse collection of rough characters assembled in one place in my entire life. Men of every shade and size, speaking languages none of our native rowers understood, rushed up to us, eager to buy whatever goods we had. They even accepted our coins in payment for the provisions we bought. And, in exchange for a couple of swords, I was able to hire a local guide who proved invaluable to us the rest of the way.[15]

  “The day after we set out from Elephantine, we found out why Upper Egypt ends at that point in the Nile. As we sailed that morning, the current became stronger and stronger, the water turned white, and a low thunder up ahead grew louder and louder. And then we reached a bend in the river and found ourselves confronted by the first of the Nile cataracts. That’s what the locals call portions of the river where the granite mountains on either side close in, leaving nothing but a narrow gorge chocked with boulders and stone ledges over which the water tumbles with tremendous power and noise. It’s an awesome sight but there’s no way to sail across a cataract. I thought our journey was finished. Before we could turn around, though, our guide rushed over and pointed to a path on one of the banks. He insisted that, if we wanted to continue, we could. All we had to do is haul our boat beyond the cataract using this path.

  “We unloaded the boat and carried all our provisions first, leaving a couple of men to guard the empty boat. It took us two days simply to trudge, weighted down as we were, to the next stretch of navigable water. More than once during our trek I was sure we’d lose some men down the precipitous cliffs.

  “When we reached the landing site on the far side of the cataract, we put down our cargo, slept on a rocky ledge, and then made our way back to the empty boat. How we managed to half drag, half carry the boat across that vertiginous trail, I still don’t understand.

  “After sailing another two days against the swift, cool waters of the river, we reached
the second cataract. This one was nine miles long, with the water cascading over successive ledges of black granite, but the overland portage was easier this time.

  “The land on the other side of the cataracts, and continuing all the way to the southern edge of the continent, is called Aithiopia. Except for a couple of cities, it’s relatively sparsely populated. After two more large cataracts and innumerable smaller ones, the Nile took a sharp turn to the left. After a while we were actually rowing in the opposite direction, back north. The men were not pleased with this turn of events.

  “Fortunately, not long after the sharp left turn, we reached a major port, called Napata. It’s inhabited by dark-skinned people, some brown, some completely black, and the rest every shade in between. Many of the inhabitants are giants, much taller than any soldier in our army. Even the women were taller than my men. And all of them were running around naked, wearing nothing more than a loincloth. However, they were healthy, well-fed, and they smiled a great deal. They had brilliant white teeth. They welcomed us with good humor, fed us, sheltered us for a night, and sent us on our way.

  “Right after Napata, we hit another major cataract. And we were still traveling back north. After an arduous portage, followed by days and days of hard rowing, we reached another turn and resumed our journey in a mostly southerly direction. For some reason this made us feel better.

  “The sun was getting higher and higher in the sky. It seemed directly overhead most of the time. Surprisingly, the temperature was still bearable, probably because we were constantly gaining altitude. And, I should mention, there was another major cataract and many more small ones.

  “After three more weeks, we reached the capital city of that region, which is called Meroe. At one time, the Egyptian pharaohs must have extended their rule that far because we saw pyramids in Meroe just like the pyramids near Memphis and Thebes. According to our guide, the locals believe it wasn’t Egyptian pharaohs who’d once overrun this land but Merovian kings who’d traveled downriver and conquered and ruled Egypt. We had no way to tell which of those stories was actually true because we had no time to investigate. Instead, we pressed on in our search for the source of the Nile.

  “After ten more days of sailing, we came to a fork in the road. More accurately, we came to the confluence of two rivers, both about the same size, in terms of width, strength of current, and volume of water delivered. I couldn’t tell which was the Nile and which was a tributary.

  “We disembarked at this point and spent a day searching for someone who could enlighten us. After sunset, we spotted a campfire and found a lone hunter roasting some animal on a spit. Fortunately, our guide was able to converse with this man. Unfortunately, the information he obtained wasn’t very useful.

  “The man told us that both rivers are called Nile. The one toward the east is called the Blue Nile; the one continuing more or less in a southerly direction is called the White Nile. He said the Blue Nile originates in a great lake in some tall mountains many days’ sail to the southeast of the spot we had reached. The White Nile, he said, originates in a great lake far, far to the south. He’d never been that far in his travels but he thought the confluence of the two Niles was at the halfway point between the source of the White Nile and the point where the combined Nile empties into the sea.

  “By then, we’d been sailing, rowing, portaging, and struggling for more than three months. Reluctantly, I decided we could go no farther. So, we turned around and came back. And I reached your camp, sire, a little more than an hour ago.”

  The men in the tent, including Alexandros, had long since stopped laughing and were listening in rapt attention. When Kallisthenes finished his narrative, there was a long moment of silence. Finally, Alexandros cleared his throat and asked: “Did you collect any interesting specimens?”

  “We brought back some elephant tusks and a couple of exotic pelts but mostly we couldn’t capture or purchase the animals we saw. I wish we could’ve brought some back. Alas, they were too large and too fast for us.

  “You wouldn’t believe all the animals we saw. First, we saw huge herds of elephants, some numbering in the hundreds of animals. And each herd was led by a few enormously large males. We saw elephants that were as tall as three men standing on one another’s shoulders. The average adult elephant was as big as two men standing atop each other. Of course, there were many juveniles as well, but even these were much bigger than a horse.

  “At least we knew what elephants were. A lot of the other animals we’d never seen before, not even in pictures, and had no name for. We saw a camel-like animal with a very long neck, its head even higher up than an elephant’s. It ran briskly and gracefully, had a spotted hide, and ate leaves of tall trees, using a dark blue tongue that was as big and long as a man’s arm.

  “There were uncountable herds of wild horses, each one striped with black and white horizontal stripes. As they ran, we couldn’t tell where one horse ended and the next one began. All we saw was a streaking black-and-white ribbon whirling by, without beginning or end.

  “We observed some truly ugly canine creatures with a hideous, barking laugh, that seemed to favor carrion. We glimpsed an incredibly swift, large, spotted cat that covered distances faster than an eagle could fly and that could bring down one those equine creatures before it knew what had hit it. We saw so many other creatures. I wish we had managed to bring some of them back, alive or dead. Best we could do was bring back some pelts.”

  Alexandros had many questions and Kallisthenes answered them as best he could. It was almost dawn when the king finally clapped his hands. “You did surprising well, Kallisthenes. Who would’ve thought a mere scribe could do more than misunderstand my dictation?”

  Kallisthenes turned beet red. “Thank you, sire.”

  “Now go get some rest. We’ll have a little banquet tonight and then start our march back to Tyros tomorrow.”

  *******

  “Sometimes I wish I could believe in metempsychosis,” Seleukos said. “Tonight’s one of those times.”

  We were seated next to each other at Alexandros’s farewell banquet to Pelousion. It was a massive, open-air affair, illuminated by a full moon, dozens of cooking fires, and a thousand torches. The attendees were spread out from the bottom to the top of a gently rising, barren hill, located about a mile to the east of the city. Everyone was invited, the native Pelousians as well as their soon-to-be-departing visitors. Even the hostages and the camp followers were allowed to participate. However, there was a hierarchy to the seating arrangements. Lounging on a couple of large couches set at the top of the hill were two triads: On one couch reclined Alexandros, flanked by his most fawning flatterers, Hephaistion and Perdikkas; on the adjoining couch sat Parmenion with his two surviving sons, Philotas and Nikanoros. The arrangements reflected the dual purpose of the feast, as a celebration of Alexandros’s accomplishments in Egypt and a farewell to Parmenion’s youngest son, Hektor. Arrayed in a semicircle below the peak of the hill were Alexandros’s top commanders and aides. Farther down the hillside were our honored guests, the Pelousians, mixed in with lower-ranking commanders and ordinary troops. At the very bottom was the Persian royal family, the other hostages, the ladies of the night, and various slaves, servants, tradesmen, eunuchs, and hangers-on.

  The idea of combining the adulation of Alexandros with the obsequies for Hektor proved to be an unfortunate choice. The contrast between the evident happiness of the king and the suffering etched into the face of the bereaved father was painful to see.

  “What is metempsychosis?” Kleitos, seated on the other side of Seleukos, asked. Seleukos, apparently lost in thought, ignored the question.

  People were beginning to form two lines, one leading to Alexandros, the other snaking its way toward Parmenion. Protocol and good sense suggested a brief visit with the king, pharaoh, and son of Ammon first, before stopping by to express condolences to the senior general, but the queue waiting to speak to Alexandros was long and, what was worse, it wa
s full of Pelousians who insisted on prostrating themselves when they reached his exalted highness, taking much too long to spit out their heartfelt gratitude and perform their individual acts of adoration. The soldiers interspersed among the Pelousians, mostly weathered Macedonian veterans, contented themselves with clapping Alexandros on the shoulder and making a few bawdy wisecracks about his upcoming fatherhood. (It was remarkable how quickly word of Barsine’s pregnancy had spread throughout the camp.) But for most of the soldiers, the Alexandros line was moving way too slowly and they opted to join the much longer, wider river of men waiting to share their own personal reminiscences of Hektor with his father and brothers. Through it all, Parmenion said almost nothing, nodding occasionally, tears coursing silently down his cheeks.

  Seleukos shifted his gaze from Parmenion to Kleitos, as if he had just heard his question. “Metempsychosis is the theory, advanced by various philosophers, including Pythagoras and Platon, that the soul, or psyche, is immortal and that, when a human being dies, his psyche migrates, perhaps after a little delay, into the body of a newly-born child,” he explained. “And, looking at those two men above us, I wish I could believe that such a thing could happen.”

  *******

  After all the well-wishers, worshipers, and condolers had returned to their seats, Alexandros turned to his loyal, grieving second-in-command. “Your son had more friends than any soldier in this army. He will live on in the memory of all these people.”

  “Thank you, sire. I’m sure that thought will comfort me in the coming days but right now I just miss him so. Our excursion on the Nile with my boys on board was the highpoint of my life. I suppose the gods were envious and wouldn’t let us finish it together.”

  “He’ll live on in the hearts of all these men,” Alexandros repeated.

  “You are very kind, sire, and your words of solace mean a lot to me. And by the way, I’m so happy to hear Barsine is with child. Please accept my congratulations and best wishes.”