Alexander almost certainly recruited some of these outlaws into his ranks as he headed toward the great wall of Mount Haemus stretching across the northern horizon. As hazardous as Philippopolis might be, it was still Macedonian territory. But among the peaks of Mount Haemus were the Triballi, some of the fiercest warriors in Europe. Somewhere in a narrow defile through these peaks, perhaps at the modern Shipka Pass, Alexander’s scouts came upon the Triballi warriors. They had occupied the only crossing point of the mountains for a hundred miles and blockaded it with carts. Alexander came forward and studied the situation. The approach to the pass was steep and wide enough for only a few dozen men abreast. The Triballi had a tremendous advantage as they held the high ground, but Alexander saw an even greater danger. The mountain tribesmen had positioned the carts so that they could be sent crashing down the path into his soldiers to crush the men and break his line. It was Alexander’s first great test of command—and he faced it with an ingenious daring that would become the hallmark of his generalship.
He ordered his men to advance up the trail in standard formation, but to be ready at a moment’s notice to open the line to let through any carts that came crashing toward them. If that was not possible, they were to fall to the ground and link shields in front to form a ramp so that the speeding carts would roll onto the shields at full speed and fly up over them. The men were terrified they would be ground to a pulp beneath the carts, but they advanced nonetheless. As soon as the first vehicles came hurtling down the path, some of the well-trained Macedonians moved to the side to allow them through while others locked shields and braced themselves for impact. The carts reached the line and hit the shield wall with tremendous force, but they sailed over the men and crashed to pieces on impact. Alexander meanwhile moved to the left with his best men and advanced up the pass while his archers launched a volley at the astonished but undeterred Triballi. The tribesmen were brave, but they were poorly armed and badly organized. As Alexander and his men reached the head of the pass, the Triballi cast aside their weapons and ran down the northern side of the mountain as fast as they could. Over a thousand warriors were slain and large amounts of treasure seized, while many of their women and children were captured for the slave markets. They, along with the booty, were sent back to the Aegean coast as a sign to all that this was a king who could lead his army to victory.
From the top of the pass, Alexander gazed over forests and rolling hills into the Danube valley below. His army marched down from the mountains and soon arrived at a small river called the Lyginus, three days away from the Danube. The Triballi king Syrmus had heard of Alexander’s advance and sent many of the women and children of his tribe to safety on a large island called Peuce (“pine tree”) in the middle of the Danube. Allied tribes had already gathered there and were soon joined by Syrmus himself, reasoning that his person was too valuable to risk in battle. But the mass of the Triballi warriors cleverly moved around behind Alexander as he left the Lyginus River and took up a defensive position in a thickly wooded grove. In such a location, they were safe from massed assault by Alexander’s infantry or cavalry. They intended to make the Macedonian king abandon his military advantage of a disciplined line of troops and fight them man-to-man amid the rocks and trees in true barbarian style.
When Alexander’s scouts reported that most of the Triballi were now behind him, he did not hesitate to turn his army around and return to the Lyginus. When he arrived, he saw immediately what the Triballi wanted but had no intention of falling into their trap. He lined up his infantry in deep formation with their long sarissa spears aimed square at the woods in front of them. Then he ordered Parmenion’s son Philotas to lead the cavalry wing on the right while the rest of the horsemen formed up on the left. Alexander himself took position in the front ranks at the center of the infantry. The Triballi expected a charge, but instead the king sent his archers and slingers forward to provoke the Triballi into leaving their wooded shelter. Soon the Triballi warriors were so indignant that they were being picked off by auxiliaries that their tempers got the better of them and they rushed out onto the open ground in front of Alexander’s lines screaming for blood. It was then that the king put his plan into action and sent both his infantry and cavalry forward. The spearmen skewered the Triballi at close quarters while the horsemen moved in from the sides. The Triballi, like so many sheep, were herded into such a tight mass that the Macedonian cavalry used their horses as weapons as much as their javelins, pushing the tribesmen down and trampling them beneath their hooves. The brave but foolish Triballi at last broke and ran back into the woods, but only a handful escaped in the approaching darkness. Three thousand barbarian warriors perished defending their homeland that day, while Ptolemy reports that only about fifty Macedonians died in the battle.
Three days later Alexander was standing beside the Danube River. Since the Greek poet Hesiod in the eighth century B.C. the Mediterranean world had known that the distant Danube—which the Greeks called by the Thracian name Ister—was one of the great rivers of the world. To the Greeks, it was a mysterious waterway arising somewhere in the Alps and descending through dark forests and the lands of savage tribes to the Black Sea. Among those nations who lived along its banks were Celts, Germans, Dacians, Scythians, and Thracians, including the Getae on the northern bank opposite Alexander. As a keen student of the Greek historian Herodotus, Alexander knew that the Getae were unusual in the ancient world for their belief in a single god and the happy immortality of the soul. To these tribesmen, a slain warrior did not descend into a dismal Greek underworld as a pale shade but went to live with the divine Salmoxis, master of thunder and lightning. Every five years they would toss a victim chosen by lot onto the spear points of their soldiers to take messages to their god. If the man died quickly, the sacrifice was considered a success—but if he did not perish in a timely manner they would chose another victim in his place.
The Greeks had long traded with the tribes of the Danube valley for grain, fur, and slaves. Over a century earlier, the barbarians of these northern lands had even seen a mighty southern army on their borders. Darius, the Great King of Persia, had led his forces to the Danube and crossed the river on a lengthy pontoon bridge to fight the Scythians above the Black Sea. Now young Alexander stood by the same river and considered the scene before him. The Triballi and their allies occupied a fortified island with steep banks in the middle of the wide river. On the northern banks were the warriors of the Getae, many thousands strong, taunting the Macedonian soldiers they knew could never reach them. Some of Alexander’s supply ships had arrived at his camp having sailed up from the Black Sea coast, but they were not enough to carry an army. It seemed as if Alexander could go no farther.
It was then that Alexander was seized with a longing, a pothos, in Greek, to cross the river into lands no Macedonian had ever trod. Darius had led a Persian army north of the Danube—why not Alexander? To cross the river was something even his father, Philip, had never dreamed of. Such a daring adventure would inspire his army for the campaign against Persia and make a suitable impression on the troublesome Greeks. But how could he move his army to the other side? There were not enough boats to transport them or time to build a bridge, and it was much too far to swim.
Fortunately for the king, he had read the story of Xenophon and the ten thousand Greek mercenaries who had fought in Mesopotamia seventy years earlier. Faced with a similar predicament on the Euphrates River, Xenophon devised an ingenious solution: “The soldiers took their tent covers and filled them with hay, then folded the edges together and sewed them so that the water could not dampen the stuffing. On these they crossed the river.”
Alexander’s men were dubious, but they trusted their king and began to sew. With the addition of the few ships from Macedonia and the confiscation of every dugout canoe they could find, over five thousand infantry and cavalry set off across the river that night.
The Macedonian army reached the northern bank of the river safely and rest
ed in a tall wheat field until daybreak. Alexander then ordered his men to advance silently toward the Getae camp. He placed his infantry in front with their spears turned sideways to smooth down the grain for those following behind. When they emerged onto untilled ground in front of the Getae camp, Alexander led the cavalry on the right wing while Nicanor, another son of Parmenion, commanded the infantry. The Getae were caught completely off guard. They were amazed that Alexander had crossed the Danube in one night without even building a bridge, as their ancestors said the Great King of Persia had once done. They now faced a solid wall of Macedonian spears advancing toward them while the enemy cavalry struck them from the side. They soon broke and ran to their nearest town, a short way up the river, but Alexander was on their heels all the way. The Getae then packed as many of their women and children as they could carry on horses and rode for the endless grasslands to the north. Alexander reached the settlement and looted everything of value—surely including much fine Thracian gold work—and burned the town to the ground.
After sending the booty back across the river, Alexander conducted what would become a regular ritual on his Persian expedition. He sacrificed to Zeus the Soter (“savior”—the same Greek word Christians would later use for Christ), to his ancestor Hercules, and to the local god personifying the Danube, who had allowed him safe passage across his waters. He had no desire to chase the Getae refugees farther because his point had been made. Word would quickly spread from the Alps to the Crimea that the new Macedonian king was not to be trifled with. His northern border secure, Alexander returned the same day to his camp on the southern bank of the Danube.
Once Alexander was back at his camp, Syrmus, king of the Triballi, sent ambassadors to him to sue for peace. We don’t know the exact terms, but they must have included a contingent of soldiers for Alexander’s army because ancient sources tell us that the Triballi troops marched with Alexander into Asia. Records show at least one of these Thracian warriors from the Danube settled permanently in a town the Macedonian king would establish on the banks of the Oxus River in central Asia. Other embassies arrived at this time from local tribes seeking peace, but the most memorable visit was from a tribe of Celts. Over the years Alexander would receive many notable delegations, but this early encounter on the Danube proved to be one of the most remarkable in the king’s career.
The Celts had long lived in Gaul and Germany near the Alps, where they herded cattle, collected heads from fallen enemies, and gained an impressive reputation as some of the toughest warriors in the world. Just a few generations before Alexander they had begun to move out of their forest homeland into Britain, Ireland, northern Italy, and the upper valley of the Danube. Alexander’s friend Ptolemy, who was present at the meeting, records that this group of Celts arrived after a long journey from a settlement near the Adriatic Sea. He was most impressed by their height, as they stood at least a head above the Macedonians, but he also says they swaggered into camp as if Alexander should be the one honored by their visit. They came seeking friendship with the king and to exchange pledges of peace. The Macedonian king received them warmly and with great curiosity as his teacher Aristotle had frequently mentioned them in his lectures on virtue. Aristotle had taught that bravery in a man was an admirable quality, but that an excess of boldness was undesirable. As an example of such behavior, he had put forward the Celts, who would allegedly attack the waves of the ocean itself. As Alexander shared a drink with his visitors, he asked them what they most feared, hoping they would say him. But the leader of the Celtic embassy looked squarely into the eyes of the king and replied that they feared nothing—except, he said with a laugh, that the sky might fall on their heads. But for the sake of diplomacy he did add that they valued the friendship of a man like Alexander more than anything. After the Celts had left his camp to begin their long march home, Alexander turned to Ptolemy and declared that the Celts were unbelievable braggarts.
From the Danube, Alexander struck southwest over the mountains toward the highlands ruled by Langarus, king of the Agrianians. Alexander had known Langarus for years and planned to let his men rest in the territory of his old friend before returning to Macedonia. His army had marched hundreds of miles and fought several difficult battles in just a few weeks, so their proud general was pleased to grant his soldiers a respite. He spent the first few days renewing ties with Langarus and recruiting some of his best warriors into his army, tough mountain troops who would become a key element of his forces in Asia. It was one of the earliest instances of Alexander integrating non-Greek or non-Macedonian soldiers into his ranks—a farsighted policy that would nonetheless cause endless troubles between the king and his officers during the Persian campaign.
But there was to be no rest for the weary. A messenger soon rode into camp bearing the news that the Illyrians were in revolt, led by Cleitus, son of Bardylis, the old adversary of Philip. Glaucias, king of the Taulantians on the Adriatic coast, had joined Cleitus as had the Autariatae tribe to the north. This was devastating news for Alexander since an alliance of hostile Illyrian tribes could delay his invasion of Asia and even threaten the survival of his kingdom. The Illyrians were not as well organized as the Macedonians, but they were brave and numerous.
Alexander knew he had to act at once even though his men were exhausted. He quickly gathered intelligence about the uprising and discovered that the Autariatae, who were previously unknown to him, were the least of his threats. Langarus dismissed them as a minor tribe and offered to lead some of his own Agrianians against them while Alexander handled Cleitus. The Macedonian king was so grateful that he promised Langarus his half sister Cyna in marriage when he returned. This popular daughter of Philip and his early wife Audata had been married to one of the alleged conspirators against Philip, but with this first husband now exterminated Cyna was once again a pawn in the endless game of royal marriage alliances.
Langarus would die before he could claim his bride, but at the time he was so grateful at the prospect of joining the Macedonian royal family that he followed Alexander’s orders with enthusiasm and devastated the Autariatae. By then Alexander was already deep into Illyrian territory near the walled town of Pellium, headquarters of Cleitus. Alexander had raced to the town to prevent Glaucias and his Taulantians from joining up with Cleitus. The Macedonians arrived so suddenly that they interrupted a gruesome sacrifice in progress outside the walls. Alexander’s men were no strangers to blood and gore, but they were sickened to see the remains of three black rams, three young boys, and three girls on the altars of the local god. Human sacrifice was rare in the Mediterranean world, but it was still practiced in the mountains and forests of Europe.
More disturbing to Alexander was the perilous situation in which he now found himself. Pellium was heavily fortified and could be taken only by a lengthy siege, while the hills around the town were held by the Illyrians. To make matters worse, he received news that the army of Glaucias had just arrived in the valley. The Macedonians had managed to pen Cleitus inside the walls of the town, but if they made any move against the soldiers in the valley surrounding them, the men in the town would surely rush out and attack them from behind. On the other hand, if they stormed the walls of Pellium, Glaucias would pounce on them. Alexander had already sent Philotas with a cavalry contingent to forage for supplies at nearby farms, but he had been forced to rescue them personally when they were caught by nightfall. It was an impossible situation for Alexander. He couldn’t take the town nor could he attack the surrounding enemy. His escape was now cut off and his food was running low. Cleitus and Glaucias must have been delighted to trap the young Macedonian king in such a dangerous position. All they had to do was close the vise to crush Alexander once and for all.
But now Alexander once again showed his genius for unconventional warfare. The king knew he was outnumbered and had no chance of escape or taking the city. Faced by this hopeless predicament, he decided to put on a parade.
Early in the morning the Illyrians in the s
urrounding hills saw the king draw up his infantry into tight formation over a hundred lines deep. Each Macedonian foot soldier held his eighteen-foot sarissa before him. They had been ordered to move in complete silence, so that on signal each raised his spear to the sky without a sound. To those watching it was as if a forest had suddenly sprung from the field in front of the town. With incredible precision borne from endless practice, the infantry swung their sarissas to the front as one, then to the right, then the left. At Alexander’s command they marched straight ahead without a word, then wheeled to each side in perfect formation.
The Illyrians were fascinated by this display. They themselves fought in the old way, with reckless bravery their only rule. But these Macedonians moved together like a machine, with such beauty it was a wonder to behold. The enemy practically cheered as Alexander’s men moved briskly toward their lines, then practiced intricate patterns, concluding with a wedge-shaped phalanx aimed straight ahead. It was then that the Macedonians, at Alexander’s signal, struck their shields against their spears and raised a battle cry that would have woken the dead. The Illyrians were so completely caught off guard by this brilliant piece of psychological warfare that they ran away in terror, clearing the way for Alexander’s army to escape.
It was, nonetheless, a hard-fought march out of the valley. The Illyrians quickly recovered their senses and struck back against the Macedonians. They blocked their escape on a small hill along the road until Alexander sent his cavalry to drive them away. The Macedonians had no sooner arrived at the river crossing at the end of the valley when they saw thousands of Illyrian warriors heading down from the hills toward the ford. Alexander lined up his archers in midriver to cover his retreating men as best they could, then ordered his artillery to set up quickly on the far side of the river and aim their catapults at the approaching horsemen from maximum range. The missiles hit the first of the horsemen from such a distance that Glaucias and his cavalry ground to a halt. They had heard of catapults in siege warfare, but few before Alexander had used them against the enemy on the field of battle. This unconventional maneuver, sprung from the young king’s imagination at a desperate moment, bought enough time for the rest of the Macedonian army to make it across the river to safety without losing a single man.
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