When the group arrived at Queen Ada’s official new residence, which was one of the few dwellings in the city to escape the previous night’s inferno, it proved to be a rather modest affair, hardly big enough to house the queen and her immediate retinue. “Don’t worry, mother,” Alexandros reassured her, “we’ll soon have you in the palace.”
None of the Macedonians ventured inside. Alexandros left behind a perfunctory guard of a dozen soldiers, mounted Boukephalas, and slowly made his way back to camp. He was chilled to the bone, tired, and uncharacteristically subdued when we saw him back at his tent.
*******
Winter was fast approaching and, with it, the end of the fighting season. Alexandros had had his fill of Halikarnassos. His soldiers, who’d been marching and fighting steadily since the spring, needed a break. He needed a break. On the one hand, his army had successfully liberated Lydia, Ionia, and Karia. On the other hand, Memnon was still out there somewhere, organizing Persian forces not only to reverse Alexandros’s successes in Anatolia but also to carry the war to the other side of the Aegean. This was likely to be a long struggle.
After mulling over his options, Alexandros called a general assembly of all troops under the walls of Halikarnassos and announced his dispositions for the winter. He had decided to send all his newlywed Macedonian soldiers home for a short furlough. “I want you to make some future warriors for me,” he told them. His announcement was greeted with wild jubilation. “But I need you back by spring.” The acclamation continued unabated, perhaps even increased somewhat in volume. I guess you can only make warriors so long, before you’re ready to start making war again. In the end, about a third of the troops decided they were newlyweds.
Alexandros put two brothers, Koinos and Kleandros, in charge of the soldiers returning home. “We’ll rendezvous in Gordion. Be there by the spring equinox, at the latest. And bring back at least twice the number you’re taking with you. Unlike the ordinary soldiers, you two are not going home to make babies, no matter what Parmenion may have to say about it.[14] Your job is to recruit – in Macedonia, Thessaly, the Peloponnese, and wherever else you can find able-bodied, patriotic Greeks who want to join our cause.”
He split the remaining troops in half, telling Parmenion to take all the allied infantry and cavalry, plus most of the Macedonian Silver Shields, back through Ionia, Lydia, and Hellespontine Phrygia, to clean up any remaining pockets of resistance and meet us at Gordion.
Alexandros himself intended to take a more direct route toward Gordion, over the mountains, and await the arrival of the rest of his army.[15] And he had one more command assignment. “Ptolemaios, you’ll stay here in Halikarnassos, with your squadron. We’ll bring your strength back up to two hundred horsemen, to make up for any casualties you may have suffered up to this point. Plus, I’m leaving you all of Memnon’s mercenaries who have defected to our side. There are about three thousand of them. Your job is to provide security for Queen Ada.”
“Yes, sire.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You will invest and reduce the three fortresses where Memnon and Orontobates and the rest of those bastards are hiding out. I don’t want a single man to escape alive.”
I was too staggered to respond. It could take years to conquer those forts, even if we could besiege them effectively. Their fortifications were unassailable and two of the three could be easily resupplied by water. And he’s giving me three thousand troops with suspect loyalties to do the job.
“Meet us in Gordion but don’t bother coming unless you’re bringing Memnon’s head with you.”
I said nothing.
He smiled. “Don’t look so glum, Metoikos. I’m leaving you all our siege equipment.”
“Aye, aye, sire.”
“Make sure you get the bastard this time. I’m counting on you.” And with that, he clapped me on the back and left me in the shit.
*******
I’m free. The thought flashed, unbidden and almost unperceived, as I watched Alexandros’s army depart. I have my own army now; I can do as I please.
In truth, two hundred horse and three thousand infantry is not an army. It’s not even a division. It’s more like an armed band. And the armed band didn’t belong to me; it belonged to Alexandros. Nevertheless, it was a heady thought. I was pretty sure my own squadron would follow me across the River Styx if I asked them. And the three thousand mercenaries could probably be persuaded to book passage on Charon’s raft as well, if promised a sufficiently large bonus on the other bank. They had, after all, already demonstrated a flexible understanding of loyalty. Thus, it seemed reasonable to assume that, if I gave the order, they would march with me down to Egypt, where I could then await the arrival of the escape hatch while guarded by my own private band of desperadoes.
Of course, unlike the mercenaries, I had no intention of betraying Alexandros’s faith in me. Even if I had been tempted, which I was not, it was impractical for me to try to fight my way through a thousand miles of Persian territory and then, once I arrived at my destination, to try to hold out for years against determined assaults by enemies near and far, while I awaited the appearance of the portal. Not even Xenophon’s Ten Thousand would have been foolish enough to attempt such a feat.
No, on further reflection, it was not the temptation to go to Egypt that had sparked the stray, unwelcome thought; rather, that uncharacteristic, recreant flash was an underhanded attempt by my mind to keep me from focusing on the herculean task that awaited me right there in Halikarnassos. Cleaning the Augean stables was nothing compared to sacking three fortified, strongly defended positions, one of which occupied a commanding height above the city, the second of which we could not besiege effectively because it had unfettered access to the harbor, and the third of which we could not even get to, because it was on an island and we had no boats. Admittedly, Herakles had only one day to complete his task, while Alexandros had generously given me four months, but Herakles was a legendary hero and the son of Zeus, while I was a traveler stranded out of time, with only my squadron and three thousand untrustworthy mercenaries to assist me. On balance, I decided that we were both in equally deep dung.
I started out by finding comfortable quarters for all my troops in those public buildings in Halikarnassos that had managed to escape the flames. Next, I sent out my horsemen to fan out across the countryside and over the mountains and bring back all the provisions they could find within half a day’s ride. When they returned, I organized a splendid banquet, attended by all my troops, as well as the queen and her entourage. The following morning, I ordered them to ride out a little farther and bring back more food. “You’ll need to keep us provisioned for four months,” I told them. Considering that winter was approaching and the countryside had been stripped already, theirs might have been the toughest assignment.
Finally, I addressed my mercenaries, who were presumably well-fed and rested by now. I told them to take off their armor, lay down their swords, and find some picks and shovels. “We’re going to take those forts using your masonry skills.”
It took my men less than a week to circumvallate the akropolis. After that, I left behind a skeleton crew to make sure no one got in or came out. “If you see a pigeon flying over there, I want you to shoot it out of the sky. If you see a rat scrambling up the wall, I want it dead before it gets to the top. Nothing comes in or goes out, got it?”
We changed the crew every eight hours and, as far as I could tell, they carried out my orders. When the defenders surrendered, two months later, of the original complement of three hundred soldiers, sixty were dead. The rest only looked that way. Contrary to Alexandros’s instructions, we didn’t put the survivors to the sword. I sent them, under guard, over the mountains, to Alexandros. I didn’t inquire how many of them survived the journey. Worst of all, we didn’t find either Memnon or Orontobates among the dead or the survivors.
While the defenders on the akropolis were starving to death, I
turned my attention to Salmakis. We assembled and emplaced the siege engines left behind by Alexandros under the walls on the landward side of the fortress and engaged in desultory attempts to get under, over, or through the walls. After two weeks of no progress whatsoever, I bribed a local fisherman to take a half dozen of my most trusted men into the fortress from the seaward side, under cover of darkness. They opened a hidden gate in the wall and my mercenaries were only too happy to pour in and slaughter the defenders to the last man. We counted and burned 540 corpses. We didn’t find the mortal remains of Memnon or Orontobates.
The King’s Castle held out the longest. It took my mercenary masons more than three months to build a causeway from the nearest wharf to the island. First, I had the men scavenge throughout the ruins of Halikarnassos for large building blocks, which we dragged, ferried by raft, and dumped into the water. Once the larger stones started to poke above the surface, we carried smaller rocks and bricks to fill in the gaps. Finally, we used gravel, sand, and soil to create a smooth, wide roadway. Our construction held up against the waves long enough to enable us to get all our siege equipment across to the island.
The defenders, who could have left at any time, stood instead on the walls, hurling insults and shooting the occasional arrow. Finally, when all our men and equipment were in place, we launched a conventional siege, with sappers mining, rammers battering, catapulters barraging, and towermen assaulting. We outnumbered the defenders ten to one. Once our siege started in earnest, it took only two days for my men to take King’s Castle. We didn’t find either Orontobates or Memnon among the dead. How they had managed to persuade their men, after abandoning them in the lurch, to stay behind and sustain their doomed defense of the three fortresses, I’ll never know.
The fragrance of the coming spring was already in the air by the time we finished our clean-up operations and settled Queen Ada in her palace. We set out – my squadron and my three thousand victorious mercenaries – on the road to Gordion. As I rode along, I experienced a new, different sensation. I’d managed to rid myself of my persistent case of chronotosis. I was still discombobulated and still had no idea what the future held in store for me but somehow I’d learned to live with it. Perhaps it was the exhilaration I’d felt upon escaping imminent death at the hunting hut or the satisfaction I’d savored upon completing my assignment at Halikarnassos or the experience I’d gained in the course of our entire campaign since Granikos but, at some point, I’d gotten over my sense of temporal dislocation. I realized my fellow soldiers had no idea what the future held in store for them either and they simply got on with it. I inhaled the clean, cool, verdant air. If they can do it, so can I.
*******
When Dareios walked into her tent, Barsine was too stunned to prostrate herself. Her first thought was that her husband must have achieved a signal victory to warrant a personal visit by the emperor and she tried to find confirmation in his face. His stern visage reminded her instantly of her grievous breach of protocol. She threw herself to the dirt floor, fighting to still the pounding of her heart. Perhaps her long captivity was coming to an end.
“You may rise,” Dareios said, not unkindly. Barsine was puzzled by his tone. Somehow, she had expected him to sound more enthusiastic. “Maybe you want to take a seat,” he suggested. She shook her head, urging him with her eyes to get on with it. “I’m afraid we have received some bad news,” he said.
“What?” she blurted out.
“Your husband is dead,” he informed her, without further preamble. “I’m sorry,” he added and it was possible he even meant it.
The tent started to spin. She decided to sit down after all. Dareios simply stood there, waiting for a response. Finally, she found her voice again. “What happened?”
Dareios shrugged. “He got sick and died.” Seeing no visible reaction, he continued after a moment. “I sent my personal physician but there was nothing he could do.”
The silence dragged on.
“What will happen to my children and me?”
Dareios smiled. His expression reminded her of a freshly fed feline. “You’re the most beautiful woman in my harem.” His tone was matter-of-fact but still not unkind. “I’m sure we’ll find a place for you.”
And with that, he turned on his heels and left the tent. Barsine sat quietly, alone, unable to cry.
Chapter 11 – Cutting the Cord
It took almost a month for the “newlyweds” led by Koinos and Kleandros to make it back to Macedonia. However, the closer they came to home, the more urgent their pace became. Finally, after crossing the Axios River, there was no restraining them.
The following morning, after striking camp, Koinos addressed the troops. “Alright men, listen up! I can tell by the tents at the front of your tunics that you’re real anxious to get back to your wives.” His comment was met by much laughter and cheering, the soldiers eagerly anticipating his next command. “You’re free to go. Make your way home as best you can.” More loud approbation. “We’ll reassemble at this exact spot two months from today.”
The men didn’t need to be told twice. They turned and ran before Koinos could finish speaking. “Bring along your brothers and neighbors when you come back,” he yelled after them. “You bet,” someone answered, and they were gone.
Koinos and Kleandros, accompanied only by their personal bodyguard, made it to the palace in Pella shortly after noon the following day. They were immediately ushered into the armory and met by Antipatros and Kassandros.
“Let’s have your report,” Antipatros ordered, without asking them to sit, “before Olympias finds out that you’re here.”
Koinos cleared his throat. “Sire, King Alexandros sends his greetings. There is much ...” He was interrupted by a loud commotion outside the door. “Get out of my way!” a woman screamed.
“I guess she found out,” Antipatros said wearily. “Might as well let her in,” he called out to the guards at the door.
Olympias burst in. “What’s going on?”
“These men were about to tell us.”
“Well, what’re we waiting for?”
“Let’s give them something to eat and a place to sit first.”
Some food, wine, and chairs arrived, along with several high-ranking officers. Koinos and Kleandros spent the rest of the afternoon giving their audience a detailed report on the achievements of the pan-Hellenic army from the crossing of the Hellespont to the fighting at Halikarnassos. “And King Alexandros specifically wanted us to impress upon you his urgent need for at least ten thousand additional foot and twelve hundred additional cavalry, when we return with the furloughed veterans in the spring,” they concluded.
Antipatros shook his head. “Well, that’s not going to happen.”
“But ...,” Olympias started to object.
“Now, go wash up and get some rest,” Antipatros added quickly, cutting short any further discussion. “We’ll have a banquet tonight.”
******
Sitting on his throne, Dareios towered over the assembled commanders, advisors, courtiers, bodyguards, and assorted hangers-on. He was a big man, taller than most of his contemporaries, and solidly built. He sat on a large, elaborately carved throne, which might have made a lesser man resemble a child in a highchair, but Dareios’s broad shoulders filled the entire width of the seat while a small stool provided for his feet kept them from swinging freely in the air. The throne itself was placed on an elevated platform, with four steps leading up to it. The net result was to put Dareios’s head almost ten feet above ground level. Anyone wishing to look at him was forced to crane his neck, even if allowed to stand, rather than kneel, while addressing the sovereign.
Although this was a temporary audience hall in dusty little Damaskos, built in less than a week, using stones salvaged from the tumble-down remains of an ancient temple that had once stood atop a nearby ziggurat, with a floor of packed dirt and a roof of thatch, the presence of the emperor imparted an aura of authority to the proceeding
s.
Dareios worked hard to maintain the trappings of power. He patiently bore the tall, gaudy, gold-bedecked hat that weighed more than his helmet and afforded a lot less protection. In his left hand he clutched an ornate, useless staff. His robe shimmered with gold and precious stones and was incredibly uncomfortable in the overheated chamber. His unruly beard had been carefully combed and set with an aromatic mixture of bear fat, beeswax, and oil. There was a trace of kohl around his eyes, which failed to conceal the heavy bags underneath or the deep crevices at the corners. Despite the best efforts of his cosmetologists, he still conveyed the impression of an impatient, powerful, uncouth warrior, perhaps not entirely by accident. Because of his life experiences, Dareios firmly believed that in Persia, power was the only reliable guaranty of survival.
He had convened this meeting to assess the current state of the war effort and to determine a way forward. Among the advisers present were his second-in-command, Mazaios, who held, among other posts, the satrapies of Babylonia and Mesopotamia; Orontobates, the former king of Karia; Arsamenes, the satrap of Kilikia; and Barzaentes, the satrap of Arachosia. Also present were a number of military commanders, including Nabarzanes, who had been given command of Dareios’s cavalry; Pharnabazos, whom Dareios had appointed to take over the Persian navy following Memnon’s death; and Autophradates, who had taken over Memnon’s land forces. Finally, there was the Greek mercenary commander Charidemos who, in his own mind, was the obvious successor to Memnon.
Pharnabazos’s assignment was to continue the island-by-island occupation of the Aegean envisioned by Memnon, in preparation for the Persian invasion of the Greek mainland. By the time Pharnabazos completed his report, it was clear to Dareios that Pharnabazos was no Memnon. The report of Autophradates, who had been tasked with the responsibility of containing Alexandros’s forces along the seacoast, was equally dispiriting.
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