God of War: The Epic Story of Alexander the Great

by Christian Cameron

  Of course we played hockey in Macedon. Do you think we’re barbarians?

  Hah! Don’t answer that.

  At any rate, putting my recruits into their places, making sure that every new man was on duty with a reliable oldster – it used up half my evening, and I was late to the great hall.

  Olympias was there. I missed what had transpired, but I gathered from witnesses that Alexander had taken her to task for her wholesale massacre of young Cleopatra’s relatives, and she had told him to get more realistic about his approach to imperial politics.

  As I entered, Olympias had just lain down on a couch – something Macedonian women most emphatically did not do, back then. ‘At any rate,’ she drawled, ‘you need their money, dear. You have none.’

  ‘Money is easy,’ Alexander said, and snapped his fingers. ‘I’ll act, and the money will come.’

  Antipater shook his head. ‘We’ve reached a stable point,’ he said. ‘With the money from your last campaigns, which is just enough to pay most of your father’s debts. Disband the army, and we’re home free.’

  You have to imagine the scene – forty senior officers and noblemen – Laodon and Erygius, Cleitus, Perdiccas, Hephaestion, of course – all the inner circle, dressed in their best, but relaxed, lying about the place drinking too much. We’d gone a year without a break, and the atmosphere was . . . festive. Even dangerous. Slave girls walked carefully, or bow-legged. Boys too.

  Olympias downed her wine. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Disband the army, call Parmenio home where you can keep an eye on him, and we’ll be fine.’ She smiled demurely. ‘I’m sure we can live safe and happy, after that.’

  Alexander stood up. Hephaestion knew him best and caught at his hand, but Alexander was too fast. His cup crashed to the floor a hand’s breadth from his mother’s head. ‘I am going to Asia!’ he shrieked. ‘I am not disbanding my army. I am not releasing one man.’ He was shaking. ‘I care nothing for the cost. My men will march without air if I march.’

  Uh-oh. I knew that the pezhetaeroi had been home three days and they were already muttering about back pay, land grants, new clothes, sandals – all the things soldiers require.

  Antipater had been away from the king too long, and had forgotten how to manage him. He took on a pompous tone. ‘Eventually, we can consider Asia, lord. But for now, we have to be realistic.’

  Alexander stopped shrieking. He turned on Antipater, and his hands were shaking. ‘Listen, you,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t care if I have to have my mother murder every aristocrat in Macedon so that I can seize their estates. I am marching on Asia at the head of a magnificent army – all the allies – the crusade to avenge Xerxes.’ He walked carefully over to Antipater. ‘Do – you – understand?’

  Antipater was shaken. We all were. Alexander had been on the edge of this sort of explosion before, but he didn’t actually cross a certain line.

  Right then, he had his hidden dagger in his hand, and I thought he was going to kill Antipater. So did Antipater.

  Olympias got to her feet – she came up to Alexander’s shoulder, or a little more – and took his hand. ‘There, there, my love,’ she said cautiously but firmly. She took the dagger from him and put her wine cup in its place.

  He drank, but his eyes had more white than pupil, and he terrified all of us so much that we didn’t talk about it.

  The next day, Antipater sent for Parmenio. He did it with Alexander’s permission and over the royal seal, but we knew who ordered whom, and again, I was afraid. I suspected that Parmenio and Antipater were now going to murder Alexander because they were afraid of him.

  Parmenio arrived two days later. He’d already been on his way – or, as Thaïs suggested, he’d been near by, waiting for Antipater to arrange his arrival. Either way, his timing was propitious.

  I’m going to pause in my historical account here to talk about Thaïs. We were ‘getting along’. Athens had poisoned something between us. It is difficult to explain, because I understood enough to worry and not enough to make it right. Had she been unfaithful with Alexander? What was unfaithfulness, in a hetaera? And had the situation – loyalty to me, to Alexander, to Athens – unbalanced her? What role had pregnancy played? Pregnant women can be deeply irrational. Men use this as an excuse to describe women as irrational as a tribe – unfair, stupid, vicious, of men, but let’s face it. Pregnant women can be very difficult.

  Hey, you’d be difficult, too, if you were carrying a baby between your legs in a Greek summer.

  At any rate, we avoided all these topics. We were like allies, not lovers. We lived together, we were intimate enough. I thought I’d outlast her anger.

  Sometimes, I’m quite intelligent.

  Parmenio’s welcome was tumultuous and magnificent. Alexander spared no effort for him, and he received much the sort of welcome we had received. He had, after all, taken and held the crossings into Asia, even though he’d lost most of the cities to Memnon, who had, let’s face it, outgeneralled Parmenio in each of three encounters. Something else you won’t find in the Military Journal.

  Parmenio was a careful man, a professional soldier and not a courtier. He’d been Philip’s favourite, and he and Antipater were, I think, actually, genuinely friends, not just tolerant allies and rivals. As soon as Parmenio arrived and was welcomed, he and Antipater vanished into the part of the palace that functioned as the headquarters of the army and the secretariat of the king – the bureaucracy, if you like. They spoke for four hours, and Parmenio emerged smiling.

  I say he emerged, because I was right there. Alexander had ordered me to provide Parmenio with a direct escort. He had a troop of Thessalian cavalry of his own – his ‘grooms’, if you like, although he was so famous that they were all knights – but they were not allowed in the palace (my new security cordon in effect) and I watched the great man myself.

  When he came out of the ‘office’ wing, he looked around as my guards moved to surround him.

  ‘Young Ptolemy, I think? Last time I saw you, lad, you were naked and playing in the mud.’ He held out a hand. But despite his patronising words, he offered me the full hand and arm clasp of the warrior, and held it warmly. ‘Your father would, I think, be quite proud.’

  ‘From your mouth to the ears of the gods,’ I said. ‘The king is waiting for you, sir.’

  He nodded. As we walked, he said, ‘I gather you and Nicanor had a disagreement.’

  I nodded. ‘A misunderstanding, I think. My impression is that Nicanor and I are good, now. If not, let’s settle it. Your family and mine are old allies.’

  ‘By Zeus, lad, you speak just like your father. “Let’s settle it”. Herakles’ dick, Ptolemy, how do you survive here, if you speak the truth?’ Parmenio was like a force of nature. It was impossible – impossible – not to like him.

  I grinned. ‘It’s my job. Ask the king. He’ll say the same. Hephaestion tells him what he wants to hear and I tell him what he doesn’t want to hear.’

  Parmenio stopped. ‘Like what?’

  I saw the pit yawning at my feet. ‘Best ask the king, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘You want to go to Asia?’

  Now I stopped. ‘Is this a trick question? I command a squadron of the Hetaeroi.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know if we’re going to Asia, and I don’t know if I’m taking you, even if we go. If this talk is too straight for you, you tell me, son of Lagus.’

  ‘Meaning that I’m no longer commanding my Hetaeroi?’ I asked.

  He looked at me. ‘We’ll see, lad. You did a fine job this summer, but you’re no veteran. And Antipater wants you.’ He looked around – an astounding gesture from a man so powerful. Creepy, almost. ‘You are a great landowner, not a penniless mercenary. Think about it.’

  He nodded pleasantly to me and I passed him through the sentries, to the king.

  I came off duty and was summoned to the king myself.

  He was papyrus white, and his hands were shaking.

  ‘I am not the ki
ng,’ he said very quietly.

  I made a face. ‘You are, lord.’

  Alexander put his face in his hands. I had never seen him do any such thing. ‘I am not the king,’ he said again. Then, in a voice suddenly more rueful than angst-ridden, he said, ‘I don’t suppose that you have a secret sister you’d like me to marry?’

  I pretended to take him seriously – stared off into space for a little while, shook my head.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

  He managed a small smile for my performance. ‘Might I marry Thaïs, then?’

  I shook my head emphatically. ‘No, lord.’

  He smiled. ‘She’s one of the few women I actually fancy. But no – I am Achilles, not Agamemnon. I would never stoop to take your war prize.’ He smiled to show it was all in fun – a kind of fun at which he was not very good, and playing far too close to the bone for me. But he was trying to tell me something. I wasn’t seeing it.

  ‘Antipater and Parmenio have laid out for me the conditions under which they will allow me to cross over to Asia.’ He looked out of the window. ‘I am to marry and beget an heir.’

  I laughed. ‘I’m not sure that Hephaestion can bear you a child,’ I quipped.

  Alexander whirled. ‘How dare you presume!’ he said. ‘Hephaestion is a noble man, not some effeminate.’

  Me and my big mouth. ‘I apologise, lord. I was attempting to lighten your mood, not to attack Hephaestion.’ I shrugged. ‘And – your comment about Thaïs hit me hard.’

  It was his turn to pause.

  He had a scroll in his hand, and he put it down carefully, came over to me and put his hands on my arms. ‘I am very fond of Thaïs. I don’t know of another woman who, six months pregnant, nonetheless makes me admire her.’ He looked into my eyes. ‘I have never lain with her.’

  I didn’t like his choice of words. Too precise. But he was trying to convey . . . love, charm, trust – and I wanted it, so I nodded.

  Alexander shook his head and let go of my arms. ‘I am the womanish one, today. I am sure you thought that was humour. I will try to keep my temper in check. Parmenio has changed every command in the army. That, too, is part of his price.’

  I shrugged. ‘Well, I knew it was coming. Nicanor to the hypaspists, and Philotas to the Hetaeroi. Coenus? Where’s he going?’

  ‘He’s to have the Pellan regiment of pezhetaeroi.’ Alexander sounded angry, and well he might. The Pellans – the local boys – were the best regiment of pikes – the elite. Alexander looked at the floor. ‘But his men – his officers – my father’s officers. Asander has the Prodromoi.’

  That annoyed me. I’d wanted the cavalry scouts for myself. Not that I’d ever asked.

  ‘You and Perdiccas both lose your squadrons,’ Alexander went on. ‘I’m sorry, Ptolemy.’

  I stood silently, my lips trembling. I loved commanding the Hetaeroi. And I had done well at it. I didn’t want to whine. But this was . . . unfair. That adolescent word that adults never use.

  ‘Have I . . . failed you? Lord, I . . . by Zeus, King of the Heavens!’ I turned away from the king. I knew that I was going to cry.

  Alexander came and put his arm around me. ‘I know!’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Ptolemy. But I’m paying, too. As soon as I have command – I’ll put you all back in your places. But as soon as that man walked into the palace – I was no longer king.’

  I held my temper in check, although my stomach did flips and I remember the tears running down my cheeks.

  ‘You are still somatophylakes,’ he said. ‘And one of my royal huntsmen, for life.’

  ‘I want to hunt Persians,’ I said. ‘And I’ll go as a trooper, under one of Philip’s fart-sacks.’

  Alexander smiled. It was like the sun coming through clouds. ‘You will?’

  I frowned. ‘Of course.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, we’ll find something for you to do. Antipater wants to keep you home.’

  ‘Antipater doesn’t trust me,’ I said.

  Alexander laughed bitterly. ‘The opposite, Ptolemy. We all trust you, and that means you should be left at home. It’s the ones I hate that I have to take to Asia.’

  The next day, Antipater began to sell the crown lands around Pella – for cash. Alexander wouldn’t discuss it.

  I had handed all my palace keys to Philotas. He wasn’t bad – and neither was Nicanor. They were sitting together in what had always been my room. They rose when I entered. I was in armour.

  ‘My brother says you are like a lion,’ Philotas said, and held out his hand.

  I didn’t feel much like smiling – but remember, my father and their father were old friends, and we all saw Parmenio as the head of our faction, the old aristocrats. I shook hands.

  ‘These are my keys to all the strong places in the palace,’ I said. ‘They are numbered and have tags on them with the name of the place they unlock.’

  Philotas sat and read all the keys. ‘Perdiccas has a set as well?’

  I shrugged. ‘Sorry, sir, you will have to ask him.’

  Philotas shook his head. ‘Can we not have this as us against you? Parmenio’s men against Alexander’s men? That won’t defeat the Persians.’

  I folded my arms over my chest. ‘You really want to have this conversation?’ I asked.

  ‘Try me,’ Philotas said.

  ‘Alexander doesn’t need you or your father to conquer Asia. You went out there and got your arses handed to you by Memnon while the king was reconquering Greece with a handful of men and the will of the gods. Now you and yours are taking control of an army we created and we trained. So – yes, sir, there is going to be some strain.’ I felt much better, having said it.

  Nicanor smiled at me. He looked at his brother. ‘I told you,’ he said.

  Philotas shook his head. ‘You kids are arrogant, I’ll give you that. We built this army, Ptolemy. My father and Philip and Antipater. I’ve been in harness with this army since I was twelve years old. I’ve trained more pezhetaeroi than you’ve had shits. I’ve pissed more water than you’ve sailed over. You kids have never seen a real battle – never fought an equal foe. And you have the gall to come here and tell me that you trained this army?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. That’s what I’m telling you. You were never a page, though – so you wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘One of Alexander’s butt-boys? That makes you special ?’ Philotas laughed. ‘Let’s just leave it there. I don’t want you in my squadrons, however much my brother seems to like you.’

  I looked at Nicanor. ‘Philotas, I think you are making a real error. I don’t think that you understand the king. Or what he can do.’

  Philotas shook his head. ‘That’s what Nicanor said.’ He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter, though. He’s a figurehead, now. Pater’s in charge. As he should be. Pater will fix everything, and we’ll have no more of these desperate, amateurish thrusts around Greece or anywhere else – we’ll fight like experts. Amateurs excel when their backs are against the wall – I’ll give you that. At any rate – you think I’m insulting you, and perhaps I spoke too strongly. You and the king did brilliantly this summer – but Pater would have done it all without leaving Pella. None of those battles needed to be fought. The campaigns cost more than just buying peace would have cost – you know that, right? You work with Antipater – you know that for a quarter of the cost, we could have bought the Illyrians and paid them to fight the Thracians.’

  I remember all this – because I had, in my darker hours, thought it all on my own. The king loved war. And he needed it. He needed to be in the saddle every day – he needed to make all those decisions, and make them correctly, and lead us to victory, and be seen to be doing it. It was food and drink and sleep – and sex – to him. When he didn’t have war, he had temper tantrums and little addictions and he was on edge all the time.

  So yes – we didn’t need to be in Thrace. Or Illyria. Or Thebes, for that matter. Who cared, in Macedon, if the king was hegemon of the League of Corinth?

&
nbsp; And yet, and yet – if you give all that away – if you buy your enemies – if we don’t fight Chaeronea, or Thebes . . .

  How long before there’s an Athenian army at Pella?

  Who knows, eh?

  But the king’s way was the Macedonian way.

  ‘You planning to conquer Asia that way?’ I asked.

  Philotas turned red.

  Nicanor laughed. ‘I warned you,’ he said. Although to which one of us, I wasn’t sure.

  I saluted and left. Later, in my own house, I thought about how Nicanor had, in effect, taken my side against his own brother.

  I was worried that Philotas and Parmenio would ‘allow’ Alexander to be murdered. That it would just ‘happen’. So I started a cabal before I left for my estates, and arranged that the two adjutants of the royal squadrons should control the rotations on duty. And I arranged to be notified – in my person as a somatophylakes – if anyone changed this arrangement.

  And I told Antipater that I had done it. I walked into his office, smiled and laid it out for him.

  He sat behind an enormous table, his chin in his hand, and his eyes burned from under heavy brows.

  ‘So now you distrust me,’ he said.

  ‘I have reason to believe that there’s a plot to kill the king,’ I said. ‘I assume you will back my preparations.’

  ‘Why not take your suspicions to Philotas?’ he asked.

  ‘Parmenio is the most likely culprit and has the most to gain,’ I answered.

  He tried to stare me down.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Parmenio was your father’s friend. We expected better of you.’

  ‘It was Pater who warned me about Parmenio,’ I said. ‘I’m going to tell the king of my arrangements, and then I’ll be heading to my estates. As I no longer have a command.’

  ‘Is that your price? You want a command?’ Antipater shook his head. ‘Why not just say what you want, instead of all this posturing like a boy?’

  I sighed. ‘I’m not posturing,’ I said. ‘I don’t have a price. I’m too rich to need to have a price. But Antipater – consider this. Attalus crossed me, and died for it. Philip – bless him – died, too. Perhaps you and Parmenio should treat us like adults.’