‘How are you, General?’ asked the philosopher.
‘Fine, when I am away from Pella. Even the very sight of the Queen gives me a headache. And how are you, Aristotle?’
‘I too am well, but the years are beginning to take their toll. And then I have never been able to bear the cold.’
‘What brings you to these parts?’
‘I wanted to make an offering at the tomb of the King before returning to Athens.’
‘Such devotion does you great honour, but such actions are also very dangerous. If you continue to shake off the guards I send to look after you, how can I protect you? Be careful, Aristotle, the Queen is a real tigress.’
‘I have always been on good terms with Olympias.’
‘But being on good terms with her is not enough,’ said Antipater as he got to his feet and stood before the fire, his hands held out to gather its heat. ‘I assure you it is not enough.’ He took a silver jug that was standing at the edge of the hearth and a pair of cups of good Attic pottery. ‘Some warm wine?’
Aristotle nodded.
‘What news is there of Alexander?’
‘Parmenion’s latest message says he is marching across Lycia.’
‘So everything is proceeding according to plan.’
‘Unfortunately not everything.’
‘What is the problem?’
‘Alexander awaits reinforcements. The youngsters to whom he had granted compassionate leave are already on the Straits together with the new recruits, but they cannot pass because Memnon’s fleet is operating a blockade. If my calculations are correct, at this moment he should be in Greater Phrygia, near Sagalassus or Kelainai, and he will certainly be worried now that no one has arrived.’
‘And is there nothing to be done?’
‘Memnon’s naval superiority is overwhelming – if I were to send my fleet out he would sink it before it even got offshore. We are in trouble, Aristotle. My only hope is that Memnon might attempt a landing on Macedonian territory, in which case we might hope to nail him. But the man is extremely astute and he rarely makes mistakes.’
‘What do you intend doing then?’
‘Nothing, for the time being. I will wait until he decides on his next move – he cannot rest at anchor for ever. And you, Aristotle? Have you really come all this way just to make an offering at the altar of King Philip? If you do not tell me what you are really up to, I will find it even more difficult to protect you.’
‘I came to speak to someone.’
‘Does it have anything to do with the death of the King?’
‘Yes.’
Antipater nodded as though he had been expecting this reply.
‘And will you remain here for long?’
‘I leave tomorrow. I am returning to Athens, if I can find a ship from Methone. Otherwise I will travel overland.’
‘And how are things going in Athens?’
‘Fine, as long as Alexander is victorious.’
‘Exactly,’ sighed Antipater.
‘Exactly,’ repeated Aristotle.
*
Alexander quartered his army at Kelainai, not far from the source of the Meander river and the official seat of the satrapy of Greater Phrygia. He encountered no resistance because the Persian soldiers had all taken refuge in a fortress at the highest point of the city – a rocky outcrop that descended steeply over a small lake of clear water from the river Marsyas, a tributary of the Meander. There could not have been many of them because they made no attempt to defend the city walls, which were rather dilapidated here and there.
Lysimachus went to reconnoitre the fortress and returned in a bad mood. ‘It is impregnable,’ he reported. ‘The only access is through a postern half-way along, on the eastern side, but the steps leading to it are wide enough for just one man to pass at a time and it is in full view of the twin bastions. We should apply a blockade, and hope they don’t have enough provisions to survive for any length of time. As for water, they’ll have plenty of that since there must certainly be a well connected to the lake.’
‘And if we were to ask them what their plans are?’ proposed Leonnatus.
‘This is no time to joke,’ replied Lysimachus. ‘We have no idea where Parmenion is and what sort of state his men are in – if we waste too much time on a blockade then we risk not meeting up with him at all.’
Alexander took a look at the ramparts of the fortress. The Persian soldiers certainly did not appear very warlike and they seemed more curious than alarmed by the Macedonian presence. They crowded on to the battlements and looked down, elbows leaning on the parapet.
‘Perhaps Leonnatus’s idea isn’t such a bizarre one after all,’ he said. Then he turned to Eumenes. ‘Prepare a delegation with an interpreter and get as close as you can to the postern. They do not know our plans, but they will certainly know that nothing has stopped us as yet – it may well be that they have no desire to fight us.’
‘That’s right,’ said Leonnatus, proud of the fact that the King had given credit to his proposal. ‘If they had wanted to stop us, they could have attacked a hundred times while we climbed up here from Termessus.’
‘It is pointless to waste our energies in such hypothesizing,’ Alexander cut him short. ‘We will await Eumenes’s return and then we will know exactly what lies before us.’
‘In the meantime I would like to take a look at the city, if anyone cares to accompany me,’ said Callisthenes. ‘They say that on the other side of the lake is the cave where the satyr Marsyas was skinned alive by Apollo for having challenged him to a musical competition, and for having lost, of course.’
Lysimachus assigned ten or so shieldsmen to escort Callisthenes on his tour of Kelainai. The expedition’s historian had to be able to see the places he was to describe in his writings.
In the meantime Eumenes assembled his delegation. He made sure he had a herald and an interpreter and then set off for the postern, asking to speak with the commander of the garrison.
The response was not long in coming. The postern opened with a creaking noise and the commander came out, accompanied by a small group of armed men. Eumenes immediately realized that he was not Persian, but Phrygian, almost certainly a local. The Persian satrap must have left the city some time previously.
The secretary greeted the commander and then had the interpreter translate his words: ‘King Alexander says that if you surrender then no harm will come to you and your men, and the city will suffer no damage whatsoever. If instead you resist, we will blockade the fortress and we will not allow anyone to leave it alive. What am I to tell the King?’
The commander must have made his decision already because he replied without any hesitation whatsoever: ‘You may tell the King that we have no intention of surrendering, for the moment. We will wait two days, and if no reinforcements arrive from our governor, then we will surrender.’
Eumenes was amazed at the commander’s ingenuous sincerity, saluted him most cordially and went back to report.
‘It’s absurd!’ exclaimed Lysimachus. ‘If anyone else had told me this, I wouldn’t have believed it.’
‘And why not?’ replied Eumenes. ‘To me it seems to be the most sensible decision. The man has worked it all out – if the Persian governor sets up a counterattack and defeats us, then he will have to explain why he surrendered without fighting and he’ll probably end up on the stake. If the governor fails to show up in the next two days, then that means he won’t be coming at all and so he might as well surrender so as to avoid any more trouble from us.’
‘It’s the best solution,’ said Alexander. ‘The commanders may arrange their quarters in the city, requisitioning the necessary homes; officers of lower rank will stay with their troops in the camp. Have a battalion of the pezhetairoi stationed around the citadel and sentries at the bottom of the rock – no one must go in or come out of there. And I want a squadron of light cavalry – Thracian and Thessalian – on all the access roads to the city so as to avoid surprises.
We’ll see if this two days business is for real or if it’s a joke. I await you all for supper in the governor’s palace, where I have established my quarters – a fine, sumptuous residence. I hope you will enjoy the evening.’
At the appointed time Callisthenes also came to the governor’s palace, having completed his tour of the city. A servant brought him some water for washing and then had him stretch out on one of the dining beds arranged in a semicircle around Alexander’s. The King had also invited Thessalus, his favourite actor, the seer Aristander and his personal physician, Philip.
‘So, what have you seen then?’ asked the King while the cooks began serving the supper.
‘It is as I was telling you,’ replied Callisthenes. ‘In the cave where the source of the river Marsyas is located there hangs a hide which they say belonged to the satyr, skinned by Apollo. You know the story – Marsyas challenged the god Apollo to a musical competition. He was to play the cane flute, while the god was to play the lyre. Apollo accepted the challenge, but on one condition: if Marsyas lost then he would let himself be skinned alive. And that is what happened, understandably perhaps, because the judges were the nine Muses, and they certainly wouldn’t have done anything to anger their god.’
Ptolemy smiled. ‘It is difficult to believe that the skin in the cave is really the satyr’s.’
‘It would seem so,’ replied Callisthenes. ‘The upper part looks very much like a human skin, even though mummified, while the lower part is like a goat’s.’
‘That’s not so difficult to achieve,’ said Philip the physician. ‘A good surgeon can cut and sew whatever he wants. There are some taxidermists who manage to create the most imaginative creatures – Aristotle once told me he saw an embalmed centaur in a sanctuary on Mount Pelion, in Thessaly, but explained that it was in fact a human torso skilfully joined to a foal’s body.’
The King then turned to Aristander, ‘What do you think? Has Callisthenes really seen the skin of a satyr or is it just a deft trick by the priests to attract pilgrims and collect rich offerings for their sanctuary?’
Many of the guests started laughing, but the seer sent a gaze of fire around the room and the laughter was soon extinguished, even the laughter which came from the strongest and most confident of the men.
‘It is easy to laugh at these shoddy expedients,’ he said, ‘but I wonder if you are also laughing at the deeper meanings which lie behind such manifestations. Are there any among you, O valiant warriors, who have ever explored the regions that lie beyond the limits of our perception? Do any of you feel up to accompanying me on a journey towards the shadows of the night? You all know how to face death on the battlefield, but do you know how to face the unknown? Would you know how to do combat with immaterial monsters – invincible and evanescent monsters which our deepest nature keeps hidden from our very conscience?
‘Have you ever wanted to kill your own fathers? Have you ever wanted to sleep with your own mothers or your own sisters? What do you see inside yourselves when you are drunk or when you rape some youngster, enjoying the act doubly because of his or her suffering? This is the nature of the satyr or the centaur, the ancestral beast with the cloven hoof and the wildly thrashing tail that lives in all of us and brings us all suddenly to the same level as the beasts! Laugh at these things, if you can!’
‘No one was seeking to make fun of religion and the gods, Aristander,’ the King said, trying to calm him down. ‘If anything they were making fun of the shabbiness of some confidence tricksters who exploit people’s credulity. Come now, let us drink together and be hearty. We still have many ordeals to face before we discover what our destiny will be.’
They all started drinking and eating once more and the conversation soon livened up again, but from that moment onwards none of them ever forgot the expression on Aristander’s face and the words that came from his mouth.
41
THE COMMANDER OF THE Kelainai garrison let the two days stipulated pass by and then duly surrendered. Thus much of the governor’s treasure went into the coffers of the Macedonian army. Alexander let the commander keep his position and left some of his own officers together with a small contingent of soldiers to hold the fortress. Then he set off again on the north road.
When he reached Gordium, after five days’ march across the highland and its light cover of snow, he found Parmenion already there waiting for him. The general had positioned lookouts on the hills around the ancient Phrygian city and so had received word as soon as the red standard with the golden Argead star appeared on the blinding white snow.
The old general went to meet Alexander with an escort of honour led by his son Philotas. When he was not far off, he had the guard line up and proceeded alone on foot, leading his horse by its halter. The King also dismounted and walked towards Parmenion, while the soldiers shouted their salute and their joy for the meeting of the two contingents.
Parmenion embraced the King and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Sire, you cannot imagine how happy I am to see you. I was most worried because we cannot fathom out the Persians’ strategy.’
‘I too am most happy to see you, General. Is your son Philotas well? And your men?’
‘They are all well, Sire. And they have prepared a celebration for your arrival. There will be much drinking and merry-making.’ As he spoke he walked alongside Alexander and every now and then Bucephalas gave his master a little push with his muzzle to attract his attention. The whole army proceeded behind them and all the cavalry, given the wide expanse they found themselves on, advanced in one long line just three rows deep, so that the sight of the two men walking calmly in the midst of that endless plateau was most striking. Behind them came the massed army and the rumble of tens of thousands of hooves at a walk.
‘Have our reinforcements arrived?’ the King asked.
‘Unfortunately no.’
‘Do you know whether they are at least on their way?’
‘Not yet.’
Alexander walked on in silence because his next question was a particularly difficult one. Parmenion kept quiet so as not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was.
‘Where is he?’ Alexander suddenly said as if asking for information on some topic of minor importance.
‘Sisines returned with your verbal message and I simply carried out your orders. Amyntas is in custody in his quarters and I have put Philotas in temporary command of the Thessalian cavalry.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Badly, but that was to be expected.’
‘I cannot believe it. He has always been loyal to me – I have seen him risk his life on more than one occasion.’
Parmenion shook his head. ‘Power corrupts many men,’ he said. But to himself he thought: Power corrupts all men. ‘Still, we have no proof that he had actually accepted the deal.’
‘The Persian messenger who brought the letter?’
‘I am holding him prisoner. And I can let you see the letter.’
‘Is it in Greek or in Persian?’
‘It is in Greek, but that is no surprise. The Great King has many Greeks at court, including many Athenians, and he has no difficulty in drawing up documents of this kind.’
And the promised payment?’
‘No trace of it at all . . . for the moment at least.’
Parmenion’s camp came into view now. It consisted for the most part of tents, but there were also some small wooden constructions, a sign that they had been there for some time.
At that moment there came a series of trumpet blasts and soon the entire contingent came out on to the open field to pay homage to their returning King.
Alexander and Parmenion mounted their horses and inspected the troops, who beat their swords on their shields creating a tremendous din and shouting rhythmically: ‘Alexandre! Alexandre! Alexandre!’ The King was much moved as he saluted them, waving and gazing over the sea of rejoicing soldiers.
‘We are in control of almost half of Anatolia,’ said Parmen
ion. ‘No Greek has ever conquered such vast lands, not even Agamemnon. What worries me, however, is the lack of movement from the Persians. At the Granicus it was the governors of Phrygia and Bithynia who did battle with us, of their own initiative. Back then there wasn’t even enough time to consult the Great King. But at this stage Darius has certainly taken his decisions and I simply cannot understand this calm – no attacks, no ambushes . . . and not even a request for negotiation.’
‘That’s fine,’ replied Alexander, ‘because I have no intention of sitting down at the table with him.’
Parmenion was silent. By now he knew the King’s temperament very well. There was only one enemy Alexander respected – Memnon, but for some time now there had been no news of him. It was only the delay of the reinforcements due from Macedonia which left them thinking that their most feared opponent was still very much alive and kicking.
The conversation continued in the old general’s quarters and they joined up with their other companions – the Black, Philotas and Craterus – but it was clear they all wanted to savour the joy of the reunion rather than discuss military matters and soon the topics were wine and women rather than strategy and tactics. And there were women in abundance now, some of them managed by intermediaries, others who had spontaneously latched on to the troops attracted by gifts and promises, while others again had been bought as slaves from one of the many merchants who followed the army in the same way that fleas follow dogs.
Alexander stayed for supper, but as soon as the party began and a certain number of girls and young men had started dancing naked among the tables, he got up from his dining bed and moved away. There was a fine moon outside and the evening was pleasant and calm. He approached one of Parmenion’s officers, who was inspecting the guard, and asked him, ‘Where is Prince Amyntas being kept prisoner?’
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