Alexander (Vol. 2)

by Manfredi, Valerio Massimo

  ‘What a nice little dog,’ said Eumolpus with a rather worried expression. ‘Does he bite?’

  ‘No, as long as you take that fox off your head,’ replied Eumenes.

  The informer placed his cap on a stool and Peritas immediately bit into it and continued to chew it throughout the interview.

  ‘What news do you bring?’

  Eumolpus began with a series of niceties and compliments regarding the young King’s glorious feats and then came to the point.

  ‘Sire, your deeds have caused considerable panic at court in Susa. The magi say that you are the incarnation of Ahriman.’

  ‘Their god of evil,’ explained Eumenes, somewhat embarrassed. ‘Similar to our Hades, lord of the underworld.’

  ‘You see, this god of theirs is always represented as a lion and since you wear a helmet in the shape of a lion’s head, the resemblance really is striking.’

  ‘And apart from this?’

  ‘The Great King places great store in Memnon’s abilities – apparently he has sent him two thousand talents.’

  ‘An enormous sum of money.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Do you know what the money is for?’

  ‘For everything, I believe – enlisting new men, bribes, financing possible allies. But I have heard of more funds, another two thousand talents, which are apparently travelling overland towards the interior of Anatolia.’

  ‘And what is this money for?’

  Eumolpus shook his head, ‘I really have no idea. Isn’t one of your generals in that area? Perhaps he will be able to give you more precise information . . .’

  An ugly prospect suddenly flashed through Alexander’s mind – what if the Great King attempted to corrupt Parmenion? He immediately chased away what he considered to be a shameful thought.

  ‘Does Memnon have the Great King’s unconditional support?’

  ‘Completely. Nevertheless, there are more than a few nobles at court who harbour a terrible envy of this foreigner, this Greek to whom the King has entrusted supreme command of his troops and who has also been granted powers over all the Persian governors. After King Darius, Memnon is the most powerful man in the Persian empire. However, if you ask me whether by any chance there are, or there might be any conspiracies against him . . .’

  ‘I am not asking you anything of the kind,’ Alexander cut him short.

  ‘Forgive me,’ replied the informer, ‘I had no wish to offend you. Ah! There is one other thing.’

  ‘Speak.’

  ‘Memnon’s wife, Barsine, a woman of most striking beauty, has arrived at court.’

  Alexander reacted with a barely perceptible start, which the expert eye of Eumolpus did not fail to catch: ‘Do you know her?’

  The King did not reply and Eumenes gestured to Eumolpus to abandon the subject and to pick up again where they had left off.

  ‘As I was saying, a woman of most striking beauty – shapely legs, the breasts of a goddess, the darkest of eyes – I don’t dare imagine what a rose of Pieria she must have between her thighs . . .’ Eumenes again signalled to move on. ‘And she has brought with her their two sons, two fine young men, one of them with a Greek name who looks like his mother, and one with a Persian name who looks like his father. Is that not extraordinary? There are those who say that the Great King wanted them at court as hostages because he does not trust Memnon.’

  ‘And is that true, in your opinion?’

  ‘Do you really want to know what I think?’

  ‘That’s a stupid question.’

  ‘Quite right. Well . . . I don’t believe it. In my opinion King Darius trusts Memnon blindly, precisely because he is a mercenary leader. Memnon has never signed a contract, but he has never gone back on his word. He is a man of iron.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alexander.

  ‘There is also another thing which you should bear in mind.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Memnon rules the waves.’

  ‘For the moment.’

  ‘Quite. Now, as you well know, Athens receives all its grain from the Black Sea through the Bosphorus. If Memnon were to block this trade, the city would be struck by famine and this could force them to change allegiance together with their entire fleet, resulting in the most powerful military armada of all time.’

  Alexander lowered his head. ‘I know.’

  ‘And does this prospect not frighten you?’

  ‘I am never frightened by things that have not yet come to pass.’

  Eumolpus was speechless for a moment, then he continued. ‘There is certainly no doubt that you are your father’s son. Anyway, for now it seems that the Great King has decided not to make any move and to leave Memnon as much room as possible. The duel is between you two. But if Memnon should falter, then the Great King will join the battle, and with him will come all of Asia.’

  He pronounced these last words in a sombre tone that surprised his listeners.

  ‘I thank you,’ said Alexander, ‘my secretary general will pay you for your services.’

  A wry smile came over Eumolpus’s face: ‘With regard to this, Sire, I wanted to ask you for a slight increase in the payment your father used to give me, long may his glory last. My work, under the circumstances, becomes increasingly difficult and risky, and for some time now a vision of yours truly impaled on a stake has been haunting my dreams, dreams which I can assure you were once much sweeter.’

  Alexander nodded and exchanged a look with Eumenes.

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ said the secretary general as he accompanied Eumolpus to the door. The man took a disconsolate look at what remained of his warm fox-fur hat, saluted the King with a bow, and left.

  Alexander watched them walking along the corridor together and could still hear the informer continuing with his lament: ‘Because if I really have to have something rammed up me, I’d rather it be some strapping young lad’s prick than the sharpened rods those barbarians use.’

  And Eumenes replied, ‘Well, you’d be spoiled for choice here . . . we’ve got over twenty-five thousand of them.’

  The King shook his head and closed the door.

  Because he had received no news from Parmenion, Alexander decided the following day to set off on their march along the risky coastal pass which Hephaestion had described so effectively and so frighteningly.

  He sent the Agrianians on ahead to fix bolts and ropes in the rock face for his soldiers to hold on to, but all this complex equipment proved unnecessary. The weather changed all of a sudden – the wet, gusty wind from the west fell and the sea became as calm and smooth as a bowl of oil.

  Hephaestion, who had accompanied the Agrianians and the Thracians, turned back to report that the sun was drying out the pass and that it was no longer dangerous.

  ‘It seems the gods are with you.’

  ‘So it seems,’ replied Alexander. ‘Let’s take it as a good omen.’

  Ptolemy, riding immediately behind them, and commanding the King’s guard, turned to Perdiccas. ‘I can just imagine what Callisthenes will write.’

  ‘I had never really thought about this undertaking from the point of view of the chronicler’s problems.’

  ‘He’ll have it that the sea parted before Alexander because it recognized his regal and almost divine power.’

  ‘What about you? What will you write?’

  Ptolemy shook his head. ‘Let’s just forget it and keep going – we’ve still got a long way to go.’

  Once beyond the pass, Alexander led the army towards the interior, climbing up steep pathways until they reached the summit of the snow-capped cliffs. The villages were left in peace for the most part, unless their inhabitants attacked the soldiers or refused to provide whatever supplies were needed. Then, on the other side of the mountains, they descended into the valley of the river Eurymedon, from which they were able to climb back up towards the interior and the highlands.

  It was a relatively narrow valley, with steep sides of red roc
k which contrasted with the deep blue of the water of the river. Light brown stubble extended on both sides and over the few places where the land stretched away flat from the banks.

  They continued for a whole day until, at sunset, they found themselves before a bottleneck, protected on both sides by twin fortresses which rose up from two rocky outcrops. Behind them, on a rocky mound, a fortified city could be made out.

  ‘Termessus,’ said Ptolemy as he drew up alongside Alexander on his horse, pointing to the stronghold, red in the last rays of the sun.

  Perdiccas approached the King from the other side: ‘It’s not going to be an easy job, turfing out that eagle’s nest,’ he said worriedly. ‘From the bottom of the valley to the top of the walls must be at least four hundred feet. Not even if we mounted all our siege engines one on top of the other could we ever reach that height.’

  Seleucus arrived with two officers from the hetairoi cavalry. ‘I think we should set up camp. If we go on they might attack, and we have nothing to respond with.’

  ‘All right, Seleucus,’ agreed the King. ‘Tomorrow, with daylight, we will see what can be done. I am sure there must be a pass somewhere. It’s just a question of finding it.’

  At that moment, behind him, came a voice: ‘It is my city. A city of magi and seers. Let me go on alone.’

  The King turned and saw that the voice belonged to Aristander, the man he had met at the spring by the sea, the man who had read the unreadable inscription.

  ‘Hail, Seer!’ he greeted him. ‘Come to me and tell me what you intend doing.’

  ‘It is my city,’ repeated Aristander. ‘A magic city in a magic place. A city where even the children know how to read the signs in the sky and the guts of the disembowelled. Let me go on ahead, before the army moves.’

  ‘Very well, you may go. No one will make any move until you return.’

  Aristander turned with a nod and started walking briskly along the slope below the twin fortresses. Some time later, dark by now, his cloak shone white like a solitary ghost as he made his way up the steep sides of the rock of Termessus.

  36

  ARISTANDER STOOD THERE BEFORE HIM like a vision and the only lamp burning in the tent added an even more haunted look to his face. Alexander leapt to his feet, as if he had been stung by a scorpion.

  ‘When did you return?’ he asked. ‘And who let you in?’

  ‘I’ve told you – I know much of magic and I can move through the night wherever I like.’

  Alexander stood up and took a look at his dog. Peritas was sleeping peacefully, as if he were alone in the tent.

  ‘How did you do this?’ the King asked again.

  ‘That is of no importance.’

  ‘What is of importance then?’

  ‘The news I am about to give you. My fellow citizens have left only the sentries who guard over the pass up there on the rock, all the others have retired for the night inside Termessus. Take them by surprise and lead your army through. On the other side you will see a pathway to the left of the mountain; it leads to the gates of the city. Tomorrow, your trumpets will awaken the people of Termessus.’

  Alexander went outside and saw that the camp was immersed in silence – everyone was sleeping peacefully while the sentries kept themselves warm near their fires. He turned towards Aristander and the seer pointed to the sky: ‘Look! An eagle flies in widening circles above the walls. This means that the city will be at your mercy after this night attack. Eagles do not fly at night, it is most certainly a sign from the gods.’

  Alexander gave orders for everyone to be woken up without the blast of the trumpets, then he called for Lysimachus and the Agrianian commander. ‘This is a job for you. I know that there are only groups of sentries up there on the rock. You must take them by surprise and eliminate them in silence, after which we will lead the army through the pass. If your mission is successful, signal to us by throwing stones down.’

  The Agrianians were given instructions in their own language and Alexander promised them rewards if they pulled it off. They were pleased to accept the challenge. Across their shoulders they put their hemp ropes and satchels containing hammers and bolts and other equipment, while they slipped their daggers under their belts. When the moon appeared for a short while from behind the clouds, Alexander saw them climbing up the face with their incredible mountaineers’ agility. The more reckless of them climbed bare-handed and free as far as they could, before tying their ropes to some protruding stone or to an iron bolt inserted into a crack and then lowering them so that their companions would have an easier ascent.

  The moon returned behind the clouds and the Agrianians disappeared altogether. Alexander moved forward, followed by Ptolemy and his personal guard, to the entrance of the pass. They waited there hidden from view.

  Shortly afterwards they heard a loud thump, followed by another and then another – the Agrianians were throwing down the bodies of the sentries.

  ‘They’ve done their job,’ said Ptolemy as he took a quick look at the smashed bodies. ‘You can send the army forward now.’

  But Alexander gestured to him to be patient. Soon came several repetitions of the same noise, followed by the sharp sound of stones falling from on high and ricocheting off the rocky walls.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ repeated Ptolemy. ‘They’ve done their job. These people are very quick and in these sorts of situations they are unbeatable.’

  Alexander asked him to pass instructions on to the army divisions to move forward in silence along the pass and the long column set off, while the Agrianians, their mission accomplished, lowered themselves down the rock face, recovering their ropes along the way.

  The guides and the scouts who went on ahead soon found the pathway on the left-hand side of the gorge which led up to the city. Before dawn the army was lined up beneath the walls, but the terrain was so rough there was not even enough room to pitch camp.

  As soon as his tent was ready on one of the few spaces available between the rocks, Alexander called a meeting of his companions. And while the herald was moving around looking for them, Hephaestion announced another visitor for Alexander – a man by the name of Sisines, an Egyptian, who asked to speak to the King as soon as possible.

  ‘An Egyptian?’ asked Alexander in his surprise. ‘But who is he? Have you ever come across him before?’

  Hephaestion shook his head. ‘To tell you the truth, no. But he claims to know both of us, to have worked in his day for King Philip, your father, and to have seen us both running and playing in the courtyard at Pella. He looks as though he has travelled a long way to reach us.’

  ‘And what does he want?’

  ‘He says he wants to speak to you alone.’

  The herald arrived just then: ‘Sire, the commanders are here and are waiting outside.’

  ‘Show them in,’ ordered Alexander. And then he turned to Hephaestion and said, ‘Have him fed and find him some shelter until there’s a tent ready. Then come back here – I want you to be present for the council.’

  Hephaestion set about his orders and immediately afterwards the King’s friends entered the tent – Eumenes, Seleucus, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Lysimachus and Leonnatus. Philotas was with his father in the Phrygian interior, together with Craterus and the Black. They all kissed Alexander on the cheeks and sat down.

  ‘You have seen the city,’ began Alexander, ‘and you have seen the terrain – rocky, inhospitable. Even if we were to build assault towers with wood from the forests, we would never manage to drag them into position, and a tunnel is out of the question because it would mean cutting through bare rock with mallets and chisels. Impossible! The only solution is to effect a blockade of Termessus, but without any idea of when the city will fall – it could be days, it could be months . . .’

  ‘At Halicarnassus we didn’t worry ourselves with such considerations,’ said Perdiccas. ‘We simply took the time required.’

  ‘Let’s build a mountain of wood against the walls, set fire t
o it and roast them out,’ said Leonnatus.

  Alexander shook his head, ‘Have you seen how far away the woods are? And how many men would we lose sending them to carry wood under the walls without protective covering and without any barrage fire? I will not send my men to their deaths, unless I run the same risks, and you with me. What’s more, time is against us. It is vital we meet up with Parmenion’s troops as soon as possible.’

  ‘I have an idea,’ said Eumenes. ‘These barbarians are exactly like the Greeks – they are always busy with internecine fighting. The inhabitants of Termessus will certainly have enemies somewhere, and all we need to do is strike an agreement with them. After that we can start off again towards the north.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ said Seleucus.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Ptolemy. ‘Assuming we manage to find them, these enemies.’

  ‘Will you take care of it?’ Alexander asked his secretary.

  Eumenes shrugged his shoulders, ‘Of course, if no one else is going to deal with it.’

  ‘So we’re all agreed then. In the meantime, however, while we are here we will apply the blockade – no one is to enter and no one is to leave the city. Now you may go and see to your men.’

  The companions dispersed to their units and shortly afterwards Hephaestion returned: ‘I see you have already finished. What have you decided?’

  ‘That we have no time to go into combat with this city. We’re trying to find someone who might do the job for us. Where is our guest?’

  ‘He’s waiting outside.’

  ‘Bring him in then.’

  Hephaestion went out and returned immediately with a rather elderly man, nearer seventy than fifty years old, his hair and his beard grey, dressed like a native of the mountains.

  ‘Come,’ Alexander invited him. ‘I know that you have asked to speak to me. Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Sisines and I come with a message from General Parmenion.’