Alexander the Great

by Anthony Everitt

  The Great King was encamped north of the Pinarus. He was shocked when he watched the Macedonians spread out into open country. He had expected to encounter a whipped enemy in full retreat, but here was Alexander ready to strike. He sent out his cavalry south of the river to screen and safeguard the deployment of his forces. The space at his disposal was uncomfortably restricted. He lined up his best fighters, the Greek mercenaries, in the center. These were flanked by lightly armed infantry, the Cardaces, who were covered by archers and protected by an improvised stockade along the riverbank (clearly they were not altogether to be relied on). Their role was defensive rather than aggressive. There was no room for the rest of the infantry, presumably Asian levies of one sort or another, which had to be stacked up at the back.

  According to Curtius, the Great King “wanted the battle to be decided by a cavalry engagement, for he took it that the phalanx was the main strength of the Macedonian army.” A conventional arrangement would have had cavalry on each wing with infantry in the middle, but Darius decided to mass almost all his horse on the right. These would deliver a massive blow that would rout the heavily outnumbered Macedonian cavalry opposite; they would then turn left to charge Alexander’s phalanx on its flank. Meanwhile the Persian left wing reached the foothills, crossed the river, and occupied high ground beyond the expected limit of Alexander’s line, thus posing a serious threat of encirclement.

  The Macedonian army took some time to arrive. It had been marching in column of route, infantry first and afterward cavalry. As it debouched onto the plain, its front line broadened to fill the land available. The powerful but inflexible phalanx took the center and on its immediate right stood the hypaspists.

  As the cavalry filtered out from its coastal track, Alexander sent the Greek and allied contingents to his left wing, which he placed under Parmenion’s overall command with strict instructions not to allow the slightest gap between his forces and the sea. It would be a disaster if the Persians were allowed to outflank him.

  On his right wing, Alexander placed the Companion cavalry and the elite Thessalian horse next to the hypaspists, whose function was to act as a flexible link between them and the phalanx. In addition, there were the scouts, or prodromoi, and the Paeonian light horse; also the irregulars—slingers, Cretan archers, and, most trusted of all, the javelin-throwing Agrianians. These acted as skirmishers in front of the main blocks of cavalry and infantry during the preliminary stage of the battle before taking their places in the line. Foot soldiers contributed by the Hellenic allies were held in reserve behind the phalanx, not trusted to fight strongly against fellow Greeks.

  Alexander’s plan of action was the mirror image of the Great King’s. He intended to ride with the Companions against what he assumed would be Persian cavalry opposite, clear them from the field, and then attack the flank and rear of the Greek mercenaries. His ultimate target was the Great King himself, who by tradition stood richly robed in a high, gorgeously decorated, gem-encrusted chariot at the center of his line (namely, amid the Greek mercenaries). He was protected by the royal bodyguard of crack Persian soldiers. If he could be killed or was forced to flee, the battle—probably even the war—would be won.

  Once the Persians had taken up their battle stations, their cavalry withdrew across the river to their position on the right and Alexander had a chance to observe their dispositions. He was pleased that the enemy had adopted a strong defensive posture, for it was attack that won a battle.

  However, he made two urgent corrections. Alarmed by Darius’s last-minute massing of cavalry beside the sea, he ordered the Thessalians to gallop unobserved behind his phalanx to reinforce Parmenion’s cavalry on the left. He filled the gap this created by bringing up some of the Greek reserve and moving along two squadrons of Companions.

  The massing of the Persian cavalry posed an obvious threat, but in compensation the Companions mainly faced light infantry, which, all other things being equal, they should find it easy enough to sweep from the field.

  Alexander also took steps to eliminate the outflanking threat in the hills that curved round behind the Macedonian line. The Agrianians and a few archers drove off the Persians and then took their places at the end of the Macedonian line. Three hundred horse were delegated to keep an eye on the fugitives, and they caused no more trouble.

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  —

  THE DAY WAS WEARING on and it may have been as late as half past four in the afternoon. But Alexander took his time.

  He rode up and down the length of his front, encouraging his men to show what they were worth. They cheered back enthusiastically. The enemy stood watching and made no attempt to interfere. The king called out officers by name and title, as well as individuals noted for valor in earlier battles. He kept motioning with his hand to slow the pace of the advance. He wanted to ensure that the phalanx kept its dressing. Every now and again he halted the army to calm nerves.

  As soon as the Macedonians came within missile range, Alexander changed gear. He led the Companions in a sudden charge across the river, probably at the apex of a wedge formation. After weeks of vigilant calculation—for he had learned from the Granicus—he was free to be a daredevil again. Stockades were quickly knocked down and the light-armed Cardaces took to their heels. The cavalry then turned and drove aggressively into the side and rear of the Great King’s Greeks.

  Up to this point, these competent and disciplined foot soldiers were doing very well, as were the Persian cavalry by the seashore. And Alexander was on the verge of a humiliating defeat, for the hypaspists and the phalanx could not keep up with the Companions. They lost their dressing and a gap opened into which the Greek mercenaries opposite moved forward. The fighting was bitter. In some places the Macedonians struggled to climb up sheer riverbanks as high as five feet, and were pushed back into the water. One hundred and twenty of them and a phalanx commander fell in the struggle to hold the line.

  The Great King’s heavy cavalry, its riders armed in metal plate, charged across the river and trampled down a Thessalian squadron. The fighting was on a narrow front, so the Persians were unable to make the most of their numbers. Also they were not so mobile as the Thessalians. Nevertheless, they maintained their onslaught and Parmenion worried that his wing would collapse.

  On the far side of the field, having cleared away the Cardaces (and the few cavalry whom Darius had not transferred to his right wing), the Companions turned the scale. They plowed into the Greeks from their side and rear. It may be that the hypaspists and one or two phalanx battalions joined them. The Greeks wavered and Alexander’s hard-pressed foot soldiers recovered their dressing and at last pushed forward across the Pinarus.

  Just as the Macedonian king had been the Persians’ number one target at the Granicus, so Darius, dead or alive, was now Alexander’s. He must have remembered Xenophon’s description of Cyrus the Younger at the Battle of Cunaxa as the pretender cut a path with his scimitar to his brother, Artaxerxes, but was struck down before reaching him.

  Driving through or behind the crumbling Greek formation, Alexander meant to succeed where Cyrus had failed. He rode pell-mell in the direction of the Great King. Although some accounts portray Darius as timid and cowardly, this was a man who (as we have seen) had fought an enemy in single combat and won. Other reports correctly show that he and his guards, including his brother Oxyathres, fought fiercely. Many Persian noblemen, among them the satrap of Egypt, fell defending their master; Alexander, as ever placing himself in harm’s way, received a sword-graze to his right thigh.

  The Great King saw that the left half of his army was in full flight. It looked as if the battle was lost. If resistance to the Macedonian invader was to continue, it was essential that he be neither captured nor killed. So, reluctantly, he turned his chariot round and withdrew. The ground he traveled over was so rutted and bumpy that he switched to a horse for ease and speed, leaving behind his shield and bow. To
avoid recognition, he also discarded his imperial robe and insignia (later Alexander took charge of the abandoned chariot and the other items). Darius did not halt until he had placed the Euphrates between him and his pursuers.

  His absence was soon noticed. The Greek mercenaries had learned from the massacre at the Granicus that they would have a short future if cornered. They quit the field quickly and in relatively good order. Thousands of horsemen tried to escape as the Thessalians galloped after them, and many came to grief.

  A rout developed and it was now that most of the casualties occurred. The Asian levies in the rear fared especially badly. Their only role in the struggle had been to be stampeded and slaughtered when it was over. Overall, the losses in men and horses were very great—many thousands, although we cannot estimate a likely number. As for the Macedonians, 150 horsemen and 300 foot soldiers lost their lives, and 4,500 men were wounded. This was rather a long casualty list for a victorious army and bore witness to the fierceness of the conflict. Alexander played down his own injury when he sent a dispatch to Antipater in Pella. “I myself happened,” he writes, “to be wounded in the thigh by a dagger. But nothing untoward resulted from the blow either immediately or later.” Once more, he had been lucky.

  Alexander waited until he was sure that Parmenion and his cavalry were safe and that there was no more fighting to be done before he set off in pursuit of the Great King. The day was nearly over, but he and some Companions rode into the deepening dusk for more than twenty miles. Ptolemy, one of his close friends and supporters, was with him and recalls crossing a ravine piled high with corpses. But Darius had too long a lead and after nightfall the pursuers turned round and made for the camp.

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  ALEXANDER AND HIS RETINUE ARRIVED, tired and grimy, at about midnight. They found the Macedonians busy looting the enemy’s camp. Although the Persian baggage train had been sent to Damascus for safety, there were rich pickings.

  The capacious royal pavilion had been set aside for Alexander’s personal use and its contents had been left untouched, for traditionally this was his spoil. It was lavishly appointed, with luxurious furniture and well-dressed servants. The king’s first priority was to clean up. He unbuckled his armor, saying: “Let’s wash off the sweat of battle in Darius’s bath.” “No, in Alexander’s bath, now,” one of his Companions corrected, toadily.

  According to Plutarch, when Alexander entered the bathroom

  he saw that the basins and jugs and tubs and caskets containing unguents were all made of gold and elaborately carved, and noticed that the room was marvelously fragrant with spices and unguents and then, passing from this into a spacious and lofty tent, he observed the magnificence of the dining-couches, the tables and the banquet which had been set out for him. He turned to his companions and remarked, “So this, it seems, is what it is to be a king.”

  When Alexander sat down to supper he heard sounds of women wailing. He was told that Darius’s mother, Sisygambis, and the other women of the family had seen his chariot and its contents brought back from the field, and deduced that their owner was dead. He sent one of his staff to reassure them that the Great King was alive. He also told them that Alexander had decided that they should retain the style and title of queens and princesses.

  The following morning, in spite of his own injury, Alexander visited and comforted the wounded. He then paraded the whole army and presided over the funeral rites and cremation of the fallen. He gave instructions that the Persians should be given the same simple ceremony (with so many casualties, this must have been a burdensome business). He allowed Sisygambis to bury whomever she wished in the more elaborate traditional Persian fashion, but, not wishing to irritate her captor, she restricted her choice to a few close relatives.

  The king consecrated three altars on the banks of the river Pinarus to Zeus, his ancestor Heracles, and Athena, the goddess of war and wisdom. He allowed his army some days for rest and relaxation and then made for Syria, sending Parmenion ahead to Damascus where the king’s baggage train was to be found.

  Later in the day, Alexander and Hephaestion paid the royal ladies a courtesy call. They were both wearing plain Macedonian tunics. Because Hephaestion was the taller and more handsome of the two, Sisygambis took him to be the king and prostrated herself at his feet. Some captive eunuchs pointed out her mistake. She was covered in confusion, but gamely did obeisance again, this time correctly.

  “Don’t worry, Mother,” Alexander replied. “You didn’t mix us up. Actually, he is Alexander too.”

  It was a telling exchange. For one thing, it demonstrated the king’s public closeness to Hephaestion, the one man who shared all his secrets. Even more remarkable was his use of the word “mother.” Sisygambis was to be the latest middle-aged woman on whom he bestowed filial affection, even love. They became close and remained the best of friends until the end of their days.

  As always with the king, behind sentiment lay practical calculation. The royal women were valuable pawns in any future negotiations with Darius. But they would be best held in reserve, for Alexander could not imagine a price high enough to be worth their return.

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  THE PROPHECY AT GORDIUM was proving to be accurate. The lordship of Asia lay within Alexander’s grasp. But there was still much to do.

  Both the kings at Issus had shared the same plan, but there proved to be differences between them in practice. The Macedonian troops (and especially the Companions) were of an altogether superior quality, thanks to rigorous training and attention to morale. Alexander’s dash and sense of timing had no equivalent in the Persian high command. He was a soldier as well as a general and his personal bravery gave a material psychological boost to the cavalrymen under his direct command; his targeting of Darius led directly to his flight and the resulting Persian collapse.

  The Macedonian king had found a winning battle formula, which he hoped to repeat—a defensive role on the left, maintenance of the bristling phalanx in the center, and a carefully timed aggressive cavalry charge from the right. His eagle eye for interpreting enemy movements and reacting instantaneously to them was as sharp as ever. He had learned to be cautious in his preparations and to manage his impetuosity.

  One of Alexander’s traits was a talent for delegation. This brought out the best in his officers, as their strong performance during the height of the fighting went to show, when noise, confusion, dust, and his own exertions isolated him from them and they themselves had to decide what to do.

  Issus was a humiliation for Darius. He was a competent and courageous leader, but he was limited to being a symbol. He was compelled by tradition and his subjects’ expectations to show himself on the battlefield in all his regal splendor. He did not have the agency his rival did. His role was to be seen; he was not supposed to take part. He had to be, not do.

  The victory was total, but it was not a knockout blow. Indeed, one could say that it was a grave disappointment. The strategy of capturing the empire in a single great battle in which Darius was killed or captured had failed. Everything would need to be done again. The invader controlled Asia Minor, but otherwise the empire was intact.

  The Great King gathered together a good number of loyal Greeks and other stragglers from the debacle, returned to his capital cities of Susa and Persepolis, and recovered his balance. A body of survivors tried hard to recapture the Anatolian plateau, although ultimately without success. The Macedonian renegade Amyntas with four other Greek defectors led eight thousand Greek mercenaries to Cyprus. On the principle that “in the present circumstances a man could hold whatever he seized as a rightful possession,” he recruited more men and ships and sailed for Egypt, where he pretended to have been sent by Darius as the new satrap (to replace the one killed at Issus). For a man whom iron fate had condemned to repeated disappointment, nothing changed. He was cut to pieces in a skirmish outside M
emphis.

  Alexander faced two intractable questions. First, what should he do now? The simplest answer was to march his army eastward, somewhere catch the Great King, who would not have had time to assemble a new army, and win a final showdown—perhaps in Babylonia or in Persia.

  There were objections. The Macedonians knew little, apart from what they had gleaned from Herodotus and Xenophon, about the territory through which they would be traveling, and for a commander passionate about logistics that was a grave weakness. The whereabouts of Darius were unknown and tracking down an elusive foe in remote mountains and deserts could trigger some sort of unpredictable guerrilla conflict.

  Worse still, so long as there was a Persian fleet sailing around the Aegean Sea, Alexander faced the prospect of losing the western provinces of the empire while pursuing Darius in the east. To eliminate this danger he needed to persuade the great Phoenician city-states such as Sidon and Tyre, which provided most of the Persian navy’s crews, to transfer their loyalty to him. They were already wobbling, but the king needed certainty.

  So the answer to the first question was to leave the Great King to his own devices while Alexander himself completed the conquest of the Mediterranean seaboard as far as and including the satrapy of Egypt. Darius would need a year or so to raise a new, even larger army. This was just what Alexander wanted, for it would give him the chance to win another, and this time surely final, set-piece battle.

  The second question was more fundamental. What was Alexander’s war aim? Had the verdict of Issus changed it? It is difficult to imagine him declaring victory and marching home to Macedonia at the head of his men. He was already governing most of Asia Minor, appointing satraps and levying taxes, and he presumably meant to continue as he had started. And, as has already been argued, if he did leave, or even if he accepted the new status quo as sufficient, it would not be long before the Persians were back, seeking retaliation and demanding their old lands.