Conquest of Persia

by Alexander Geiger

  The palace was designed to overawe any would-be attackers, rather than repel them. It was built on a man-made platform, rising some fifty feet above the surrounding terrain. The buildings themselves were monumental in scale; they towered over everything in sight, even the ancient fortress.

  To reach the elevated platform, one had to climb a long, steep, paved causeway. The entrance onto the platform itself was guarded by an impressive gatehouse, which we now approached through the pelting rain.

  “I sure hope they open those great big gates for us,” Kleitos fretted. “I’m tired of getting soaked. And what happened to that nice warm climate?”

  In fact, the gates did swing wide open just as we approached. And the man in charge of swinging them open was none other than our own Philoxenos, grinning broadly, pleased as punch with his joke.

  “Sire, I’m pleased to report the city of Sousa, the royal palace, and the treasury are all secured. Your soldiers are patrolling all these areas as we speak. Welcome to your latest acquisitions, sire.”

  Alexandros jumped off Boukephalas and embraced Philoxenos. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was getting worried we’d have to break down those huge doors.”

  “All the doors are open to you, sire. What would you like to inspect first?”

  “Well, we’ve got this old man with us, giving us a tour. A guess we’ll let him show us around the palace.”

  Hearing this, Indabibi rode forward. “At your service, celestial highness.”

  “On through the gates we go,” Alexandros ordered.

  Once we entered the gatehouse, the roadway became a level, paved, enclosed promenade, some sixty feet long. The high, coffered ceiling above the roadway was supported by four huge columns, two on each side. Beyond the columns, extending the length of the covered roadway, were twin galleries, furnished with marble benches. On the walls of the galleries, keeping a wary eye on our transit, were two tightly-packed files of Immortals, forty-eight soldiers on each side, executed in high relief. Made of colorful, glazed bricks, the soldiers were exactly the same size, each one depicted in profile, facing the entrance of the gatehouse, one foot in front of the other (couldn’t tell whether right or left; all the feet looked the same), each soldier gripping with both fists the traditional eight-foot-long spear, held vertically, the “apple” butt resting on the toes of his forward foot, the leaf-shaped spear tip pointing to the ceiling. On their backs, they carried their wicker shields, depicted in three-quarter view so as to fit within the narrow vertical space allocated to each soldier. There was no evidence of any swords, daggers, quivers, or arrows and only one end of their curved bows peeked out above their heads.

  Alexandros couldn’t resist dismounting once again to take a closer look at the serried files of Immortals. “Hey, guys, look at this. They look identical but each one is dressed differently. Same faces, same beards, same hats and headbands, but each one wears a different robe. What does that mean, Indabibi?”

  “I have no idea, your perspicacious majesty. Maybe the individualized patterns of the robe fabrics served as a signature of sorts for the artisans who created these soldiers.”

  “That’s not the only thing that’s individualized, either. Look here! They each wear different bracelets on their wrists and different earrings.”

  “Well, I know what that means,” Kleitos called out.

  Alexandros fell for the joke. “What’s it mean, Kleitos?”

  “That they’re all pussies, sire.” He tried to add something but it got lost in his guffaws. Everyone else, including Alexandros, joined in.

  “Alright, let’s move on,” Alexandros ordered when he’d finally caught his breath.

  We emerged from the far end of the gatehouse and found ourselves in a large open space, facing the eastern facade of the palace. The rain had slowed to a drizzle while we admired the glazed Immortals but the top of the palace wall was still shrouded in a cloudy mist.

  “How tall is that wall, Indabibi?”

  “More than sixty feet, your celestial highness. Would you like to go inside? The entrance is a little way to our right.”

  It took us a few moments to ride across the open space to the enormous, ornamental front portal of the palace. Indabibi used the time for a brief history lesson. “This palace was built by the original Dareios, your celestial majesty, not the current … err, recently deposed Emperor Dareios.”

  “Yes, I know which one you mean. The one who led the first Persian invasion of Greece.”

  Indabibi nodded nervously. “Yes, that’s the one. May I continue, sire?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “It’s said Sousa was the first Dareios’s favorite capital. He died before the work on the palace was completed. Construction continued under Dareios’s son, Xerxes, and was finished during the reign of his grandson, Artaxerxes, about a hundred years ago.

  “No sooner was the construction finished than the whole place burned down. It stayed in ruins for fifty years until it was restored by Dareios Deuteros and was brought to its current level of splendor by Artaxerxes Deuteros, who also added the Apadana. That addition was finished only thirty-five years ago.”

  Alexandros interrupted. “So, how big is this platform we’re riding on?”

  “It’s hard to measure because it’s irregularly shaped. But when the original Dareios decided to build this palace, he first conscripted the entire local populace to dig up all of the surrounding countryside until they reached solid bedrock. Around here, that means going down through some twenty feet of soil. After they were done, they heaped up and compacted all that soil to create this platform. If it were square-shaped, it would make a square more than half a mile on each side.”

  A set of four wide granite steps led up to the ceremonial doors, now flung open in anticipation of our arrival. Although the steps were clearly meant for human feet, Alexandros urged Boukephalas to leap to the top. Miraculously, the great stallion accomplished the feat without breaking any bones, either its own or its rider’s. The rest of us dismounted and led our horses to the top.

  Indabibi ran after Alexandros. “Your celestial majesty, perhaps you’d like to tie up your mount on the outside. You’ll get a better view of the interior of this magnificent palace, which is now yours, if you walk on foot.”

  Alexandros raised a querying eyebrow in the direction of Hephaistion, who looked to Seleukos in turn. Seleukos nodded. “No point desecrating the place.” Hephaistion signaled his concurrence. Alexandros alighted and left his horse outside.

  The scope of the palace complex was gigantic. After walking through a few large rooms, we found ourselves in a grass-covered, colonnaded courtyard. “This is big enough for military maneuvers,” Alexandros observed to no one in particular.

  “You’re so right, your sagacious majesty, “Indabibi jumped in. “We often use it to review and drill our troops. But not cavalry, of course,” he quickly added.

  Alexandros turned to Philoxenos, “Which reminds me. Where are your troops?”

  “They’re around, sire. They’re discretely out of sight but they’re in control. Trust me.”

  Alexandros seemed doubtful. “Alright, Philoxenos, I’ll trust you. But if we run into trouble, it’s your neck on the line.”

  Philoxenos leaned in. “All these Elamites and Persians and Sousians or whatever they are,” he whispered, “have shat their fancy leather pants. They won’t give us any trouble.”

  Alexandros rewarded him with a grin and turned around. “Alright, Indabibi, let’s continue the tour.”

  The palace was endless. The sun set, torches were lit, snacks and wineskins were passed around, and still we continued to march on. There were two more courtyards, not quite as large as the first one but each bigger than the entire royal palace in Pella. There were rooms without number, small, large, and everything in between. The ceilings in the larger rooms were supported by huge, fluted columns. The bases of the columns were decorated with bas-reliefs of scenes of battle, subjugation, tribute-paying a
nd obeisance, emperor worship and adoration. The tops of the columns were sculpted into a fantastic variety of animals, both real and imaginary, from cows to lions, from eagles to sphinxes, from griffins to three-headed monsters. On top of the columns rested huge wooden beams of oak or cedar which in turn supported the elaborately decorated, coffered ceilings. The walls were stuccoed throughout and, in many rooms, covered with colorful mosaics composed of vivid, glazed tiles. These mosaics depicted a wide variety of subjects. There were pictures of beings divine and mortal, royal and merely human, soldiers and civilians, Persians and conquered people, men and more men. (Persians didn’t go for female figures in their art.) All kinds of animals and monsters menaced the viewer in their stylized stolidity. Occasionally, even the natural beauty of the many lands comprising the Persian Empire found its way to the palace walls, with gorgeous depictions of mountains, plains, and rivers, majestic trees, fertile fields, and colorful flowers.

  Taking my eyes off the walls for a moment, I caught a glimpse of Indabibi. The old man was ready to collapse. “Perhaps we should resume in the morning, sire,” I suggested.

  “What, are you getting tired, Ptolemaios?”

  “No, Aniketos, but he is.” I pointed to our guide, who was barely able to speak by now.

  Alexandros shrugged. “You’re right. Let’s take a break. We can bed down right here and resume at first light.”

  Indabibi was visibly relieved. “I know just the place, your celestial majesty.” He led us to a complex of rooms we had not seen before. The floors were covered in deep, luxurious carpets, with plum pillows and animal skins scattered everywhere. Little tables, stools, and trunks stood in corners and a strange aroma filled the air.

  Alexandros looked around curiously. “What is this place?”

  “The harem, your highness.”

  “Perfect,” Alexandros laughed. “Except for the missing women, of course. But I suppose Abouletes couldn’t think of everything. Make sure a filling breakfast is waiting by the time we awake.”

  He was asleep before his body hit the plush, carpeted floor.

  *******

  If there was one thing Alexandros pursued more indefatigably than victory, it was sightseeing. And the Sousa royal palace gave him a chance to combine the two. On the one hand, his sheer presence, a twenty-six-year-old upstart striding the granite floors built by the greatest emperors of Persia, was tangible evidence of spectacular military triumph. On the other hand, there was so much great stuff to see here. Alexandros was in his element.

  “Wait until you see this, your celestial majesty.”

  “Where’re you taking us now, Indabibi?”

  “This is the Apadana, the audience or reception hall, as you might call it. I’m told it’s the second largest indoor space in the world.”

  We all rushed in, stopped, and gaped. It didn’t have the soaring elegance of the Parthenon or the chiseled beauty of the Mausoleion or the effortless lightness of the Artemision but it was big. Indabibi gave us the dimensions: “It’s three-hundred-twenty by three-hundred feet. Ninety columns support the seventy-foot-high ceiling. It can hold twenty thousand people.”

  “Or ten thousand, if you want them to breathe.” Kleitos was irrepressible.

  Alexandros, on the other hand, was voracious in his curiosity. “Where is the largest indoor space in the world?”

  “That, your inquisitive majesty, would be the Apadana in Persepolis. But I’ve never seen that one, so I’m only going by what I’ve been told.”

  “We’ll be checking it out soon enough. I’ll send you a note to let you know for sure.” Alexandros’s bold promise met with appreciative laughter by all in attendance, with the possible exception of the handful of Persian officials who accompanied us. “Now, what else have you got to show us?”

  “We’ve seen just about everything, your majesty, except the Throne Room and the adjoining Treasury Suite, which your men have locked up and are keeping under guard.”

  Alexandros turned to Philoxenos. “I assume he’s talking about your men?”

  “Yes, sire. As soon as we located the Treasury Suite, I had it locked and barred and posted guards. I didn’t let anyone so much as take a peek inside. Don’t want any of that loot disappearing.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Well, I did take a quick look, just to make sure what was in there. But I didn’t linger.”

  “And? What did you see?”

  “It was pretty disappointing, sire, at a quick glance, to tell you the truth. Nothing like what we saw in Sardeis or Babylon or some other places. More like petty cash for everyday needs than a treasury. A couple of thousand talents at most, I’d guess.”

  “That’s impossible. They must’ve hidden it somewhere. What about the fortress?”

  “The fortress, sire, is sealed off. Walled up. Impossible to enter without breaking down some masonry. I posted guards but we didn’t try to enter.”

  Alexandros turned back to Indabibi. “What about the fortress? Isn’t that on our itinerary?”

  “I was saving that for last, your majesty. But I must warn you, there isn’t much to see. It’s just an ancient, crumbling fortress, not nearly as impressive as this palace. And you can’t get inside anyway. Some previous king or satrap sealed it off, probably for safety reasons. Wouldn’t want those ancient walls collapsing on our heads.”

  “We’ll definitely want to check that out. And we’re going to go inside as well.” He laughed. “In fact, we’re going to send you in first, to make sure it’s safe.”

  Indabibi failed to appreciate Alexandros’s sense of humor. “Yes, sire. But let’s go see the Throne Room first.”

  When we reached the Throne Room, we were greeted by a double surprise. First, the hall, although quite a bit smaller than the Apadana, was absolutely spectacular. The beauty of the decorations, the quality of the materials, and the level of workmanship rivaled anything we had seen in the Greek world or during our journeys in the Persian Empire. Second, the hall was full of people.

  “Who are these folks?” Alexandros asked Philoxenos.

  “I rounded up all the soldiers, courtiers, eunuchs, priests, and assorted riff-raff we found in the palace prior to your arrival, sire. This morning, the satrap Abouletes suggested we should assemble them all in the Throne Room so they could properly welcome you to the palace. It seemed like a decent suggestion, so here they are. Under the watchful eyes of my soldiers, of course. I hope that meets with your approval, sire. If not, we can clear the room in short order.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. Let them stay. Just make sure they pay me the proper respect.”

  That last admonition proved to be entirely superfluous. As soon as the milling crowd noticed the arrival of the would-be emperor, they fell to the floor as one. Before Alexandros could stride toward the throne, however, Indabibi tugged at his sleeve. “There’s one more thing I’d like to show you, celestial highness.” He walked over to a large granite plaque set into the back wall, covered in writing.

  “What’s it say?” Alexandros wanted to know.

  “I’ll translate it for you, your inquisitive majesty, if you’ll permit me: ‘King Dareios says: A great god is Ahura Mazda, who created this Earth, who created man, who created happiness for man, who made me king, king of kings, lord of many.

  “‘By the favor of Ahura Mazda, I, king of kings, lord of many, Ahura Mazda’s representative on Earth and keeper of his flame, built this palace. At my command, downward the earth was dug, until I reached rock in the earth. When the excavation had been made, the rubble was packed down, some 40 cubits in depth. On that rubble the palace was constructed.

  “‘The sides of the platform were secured with sun-dried brick. This work was done by my Babylonian vassals.

  “‘The cedar timber was brought from a mountain named Lebanon. My Assyrian vassals brought it to Babylon; from Babylon the Karians and the Ionians brought it to Sousa.

  “‘The gold was brought from Sardeis and from Baktria and
wrought here at Sousa. The precious stones, including lapis lazuli and carnelian and turquois, were brought from Sogdiana and Khorasmia and cut and polished here at Sousa.

  “‘The silver and the ebony were brought from Egypt. The ornamentation with which the walls are adorned was brought here from Ionia. The ivory was brought from Aithiopia and from Sindh and from Arakhosia and carved here at Sousa.

  “‘The stone for the columns was brought here from a village named Abiradu, in Elam, and chiseled here. The stonecutters who chiseled the stone were Ionians and Sardians.

  “‘The goldsmiths who wrought the gold were Medes and Egyptians. The men who carved the wood were Sardians and Egyptians. The men who molded the baked brick were Babylonians. The men who adorned the walls were Medes and Egyptians.

  “‘King Dareios says: At Sousa a very excellent work was ordered, a very excellent work was brought to completion. May Ahura Mazda protect me, my father Hystaspes, and my country.’ That’s all it says, your celestial majesty.”[20]

  “He was a modest fellow, that Dareios. Let’s get going.”

  Alexandros strode down the narrow path left vacant down the middle of the room. The Macedonian contingent followed behind, trying hard not to step on the prostrate bodies. Finally, stopping just short of the throne, Alexandros turned and benevolently signaled to the assembled multitude to rise. Then he attempted to climb up to the throne, beneath its billowing golden canopy.

  The throne was an elaborate, intricately-carved affair, seemingly designed for someone at least seven feet tall. Four steps led up to it, with a footstool on the top one, but a normal person would still have to leap up to get his buttocks onto the seat.

  “No, celestial majesty, don’t!” Indabibi cried out as Alexandros mounted the first step. “Sitting on this throne means instant death for anyone other than the legitimate emperor of Persia.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Alexandros continued his climb. With considerable agility, he deposited himself in the ridiculously high and wide chair and smiled. Lightning didn’t strike.