The Strategos

by H A CULLEY

  His attention was drawn back to the soldiers looking up at him when one called out ‘why can’t the Persians re-conquer their own bloody provinces? Why do they need us?’

  ‘They’ve tried and failed,’ Iphicrates spoke before Parmenion could gather his thoughts. ‘They need real soldiers to do it.’

  That raised a few laughs and lightened the atmosphere.

  ‘We are to be part of an army being gathered by the Persian King, Artaxerxes, at Acre. I have been asked to provide four thousand hoplites and one thousand heavy cavalry, none which Persia has at the moment. The expedition will be commanded by the Satrap of Phrygia, Pharnabazos.’

  Parmenion had heard of Pharnabazos. Three decades previously he had been a successful cavalry general who had been instrumental in guiding Persian involvement in the struggle for power between Athens and Sparta, first on one side and then the other, in an attempt to weaken both. He had succeeded in wresting control of the Hellenic cities along the eastern coast of the Aegean Sea from Sparta and, to appease Athens declared them independent. However, they were later absorbed into the Persian Empire.

  He had married into the Persian Royal Family but, Parmenion calculated, he must be nearly seventy years old now and he wondered whether he still had the same abilities as a commander as he had enjoyed when he was half that age.

  ‘The Persians have light cavalry and horse archers and so it is only heavy cavalry they require.’

  Parmenion winced. He now regretted letting Iphicrates speak on his behalf. He would have found room for any of his present hipparchia who wanted to come. In the end he was left with Orestes, a hundred and fifty cavalrymen and thirty ephebes; a long way short of the thousand required. He went to see Iphicrates to discuss the problem and was surprised to see Prince Alexander closeted with the strategos.

  ‘Ah, come in, Parmenion, and grab a goblet of this very fine wine that Alexander has been kind enough to bring with him.’

  The man sounded full of bonhomie. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so cheerful when Parmenion had had his say.

  ‘We were just talking about you.’ He looked at the prince who looked grim, shifting his eyes to Parmenion and shrugging. Parmenion gathered instantly that the prince was unhappy about something.

  ‘I had hoped that Athens, Thrace and Macedon would all provide two ilia of cavalry each for your new command. With your own men we would then have nearly enough for your chiliarchy.’

  It was only then that the twenty-two year old realised that he was to become a chiliarch. Such a high position was unheard of for one so young.

  ‘However, it would seem that the new Macedonian strategos, Ptolemy, is opposed to helping us. Prince Alexander has just told me that, not only won’t Macedon support me,’ he went on, ‘but he had given us until the day after tomorrow to leave the country!’

  ‘Who does this Ptolemy think he is? Surely your father owes us some loyalty for helping him defeat the Illyrians?’

  ‘Unfortunately, he seems to have the ear of my mother.’ Alexander continued to look at the floor, obviously embarrassed by the situation.

  ‘I see. What do you propose to do, strategos?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. Athens has already agreed to provide a thousand hoplites and Thebes the same. Hopefully they will also send some cavalry, though I’m not too sanguine about that. I’m sure that Ptolemy doesn’t want to annoy both Athens and Thrace just because it suits me to stay here a little longer. I need to contact Corinth to see if they’ll fill the gap left by Macedon.’

  ‘What’s in it for them?’ Parmenion was curious to know why the major Greek states would help Persia.

  ‘Lots of gold; plus they can get rid of some of their more troublesome citizens for a while; perhaps permanently.’

  ‘Have you tried Thrace? They are more likely to be able to raise a thousand mercenaries than Corinth is.’

  Iphicrates thought about the idea for a moment then Alexander spoke again.

  ‘There’s nothing that Thrace would like more than to make Macedon look inferior. They envy us and to be involved in a mission with major Greek cities like Thebes and Athens would appeal to them, I’m sure.’

  It was agreed after further discussion that Parmenion and another, older, officer on Iphicrates’ staff, would set off for Seuthopolis, the capital of the Odrysian Kingdom of Thrace, by far the largest of the three kingdoms into which Thrace was divided at the time.

  Parmenion was now dressed as an epihipparchos, even though his actual command at present was far smaller than it had been when he was a rank lower. Iphicrates felt that it would give him status. The staff officer was an Athenian pentakosiarch called Timon. He held that rank because he had commanded five hundred hoplites before becoming Iphicrates’ head of logistics. He was taciturn in the extreme and derided small talk but, when he did speak, Parmenion quickly learned that Timon always had something useful to say.

  He had taken fifty of his cavalrymen with him, leaving Orestes in command of the rest. Fifty was enough to deter brigands but not enough to appear threatening. It took them three weeks to reach Suethopolis and then he and Timon were kept waiting for a week before they managed to enter the audience chamber. Parmenion had hoped for a private meeting but, as had been the case at Pella initially, he and Timon were ushered into a general session when Thracians of all types pleaded their case before the king.

  Chales had been a chieftain of the Triballi before he managed to unite several Thracian tribes and become king over most of Thrace. He was now an old man but he still had a keen brain. In the past Thrace had been ruled by the Persians and Chales had always done his best to remain on friendly terms with them. At the moment the Persian Empire ended at the Hellespont but he was well aware that they could easily cross over into the independent city state of Byzantium and from there invade his kingdom. He was therefore more than amenable to anything that would enhance his standing with them.

  However, he wasn’t about to discuss it in public and as soon as he gathered what Parmenion wanted, he shot his chamberlain an annoyed look and waved his hand peremptorily for Parmenion to ceasing talking. A man came forward and politely took Parmenion’s arm and conducted him and Timon to a side room and asked them to wait in there.

  ‘My chamberlain is a fool!’ Chales said as soon as he entered the room accompanied by the strategos of his army. ‘Anything to do with the Persians is highly sensitive and the old fool knows that. Perhaps it is time I found a replacement.’

  It was not the most auspicious start to their meeting and Parmenion cleared his throat nervously, wondering how to start.

  ‘Perhaps we should have told him why we wanted to see you, basileus,’ Timon apologised.

  Parmenion was astonished. It was the most he had heard Timon say since he had met him.

  Chales waved his hand as if it was no matter, but he looked pleased by Timon’s use of the honorific basileus. In effect it meant recognition of his claim to be King of Thrace.

  Parmenion went on to describe the Persians decision to reconquer Egypt and depose the Pharaoh Nectanebo. He had been the army commander before he had seized the throne and founded the thirtieth dynasty, wiping out the previous royal family. Everyone present was well aware that Egypt had ceased to be a satrapy of Persia in 402 BC when the then Pharaoh had beaten the army of occupation and thrown the Persians out. Evidently, after thirty years of independence and three changes of dynasty, Artaxerxes had decided that Egypt was weak enough to reincorporate it into his empire.

  ‘And what do you want from me, young man?’

  Parmenion looked Chales in the eye, undaunted by the king’s grim look and piercingly blue eyes.

  ‘We have promised to provide a chiliarchy of Greek heavy cavalry, basileus. I already have a hundred and fifty Thracians and Amphipolitans and thirty ephebes. Thebes and Athens will supply a few hundred more but I wanted your permission to recruit more cavalrymen from Thrace.’

  Timon gazed at him intently and so he pressed on before Chales could reply.


  ‘Athens and Thebes have also agreed to supply a thousand hoplites and Corinth will probably do the same. The Strategos Iphicrates is contracted to supply four thousand hoplites and so he hoped that you would agree to provide the remaining chiliarchy. You and your men would be well rewarded, of course.’

  ‘How well?’

  Chales seemed pleased by the money that Timon now offered him and withdrew to confer with his strategos. Parmenion and Timon heard nothing more for a week and then the Thracian strategos came to take them to a parade ground behind the palace. Both men smiled when they saw a hipparchia of cavalry and a chiliarchy of infantry drawn up for inspection. They were introduced to the hipparchos and the chiliarch commanding the two Thracian units. It seemed that they would be paid by Chales and remain his men, not mercenaries, and Iphicrates would pay the king.

  -o0o-

  Parmenion was at his wits’ end. Training the Thracians, Corinthians, Athenians and his original unit was a nightmare. Each contingent had their own way of fighting and getting them to co-operate was proving impossible. The Corinthians liked to charge at the gallop in a disorganized mass. By the time they reached an enemy their horses would have been blown and useless in a melee. On the other hand the Athenians held their formation but never broke out of a canter in order to keep in line. This meant that their charge lacked enough momentum to break through an enemy line. The Thracians were the worst of the lot. They threw their spears like javelins before engaging the enemy, usually too early to do much good, and then found themselves at the mercy of any enemy with a spear.

  The other problem was equipment. Spears were of differing lengths and shields, for those who had them, were of differing sizes, shapes and weights, being either crescent shaped, semicircular or circular. Swords also varied. Some carried a xipos, a short double-edged stabbing sword of more use as an infantry weapon, some the forward curving kopic, which was a good cavalry weapon for cutting, but not for stabbing, and some the one favoured by Parmenion: the machaira, a straight bladed sword three foot long with a blade which broadened gradually along its length and then tapered suddenly to a point. It had the weight to cut deeply and a good point for stabbing. To make it worse, many swords were made of iron but some soldiers carried the old fashioned, and softer, bronze type.

  ‘How’s training going?’ Iphicrates asked him one evening over a goblet of Pramnian wine. It was one of the best of all the wines produced in Greece, only equaled by wine made from the Bibline grape grown in Byblos by the Phoenicians. Parmenion thought that it was almost too good to need diluting, but Greeks never drank their wine neat. Orestes sat next to him quaffing his wine appreciatively, and noisily, until Parmenion gave him a pained look.

  ‘Not well, to be honest. I think I am going to have to spend most of the gold and silver I have left equipping most of the soldiers in my various ilia with an iron machaira and a semi-circular Thracian shield, as they are lightest whilst still being strong enough deflecting a spear or a sword cut. Only then can I start training them to charge in a tight line, keeping formation. Once they’ve mastered that we can move onto charging in an arrow head.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t much time before we set out to cross the Hellespont and join Pharnabazos’ army.’

  ‘Hmm, I may have to train them on the march then. I assume we will travel down to Egypt overland?’

  ‘Yes, it’s the only way to move such a large army. I understand that we will meet the other contingents from the Persian Empire at Acre.’

  ‘May I ask where that is?’

  ‘It’s a Phoenician port some four hundred miles from Sebennytos.’

  ‘My apologies, I’m not sure I’ve heard of Sebennytos either, strategos.’

  ‘Oh, that’s Pharaoh Nectanebo’s new capital. He moved it there from Mendes two years ago. It’s in the western delta of the River Nile.’

  ‘I see. It seems that we are to be away a long time then?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a thousand miles from the Hellespont to Acre overland. It will take us six months for us to get there; plenty of time for you to train your men.’

  -o0o-

  Parmenion took a dislike to Pharnabazos as soon as he met him. He thought that many Persians were a little effeminate. He found perfuming and oiling hair and wearing brightly coloured silk clothes strange. Greeks bathed and combed their beards but didn’t mind smelling of honest sweat, and they didn’t dress in silk. But it wasn’t that. He couldn’t understand how a famous strategos in his heyday had turned into a prissy, fussy old man. Another thing that Parmenion disliked was the four small boys who were his constant attendants. They were aged between about eight and eleven and vied with each other to tend to the satrap’s every need. It wasn’t natural, nor was the way that the elderly man petted them and stroked them affectionately all the time.

  ‘Bloody little catamites,’ Orestes muttered in his ear. ‘Some Greeks might have an ephebe as a lover, but not pre-pubescent boys and not after they cease to be young men. He’s old enough to be their great-grandfather.’

  ‘Shhh. I agree, but he is our commander, and our paymaster. It’s probably best to keep our thoughts to ourselves.’

  ‘Thankfully the rest of the Persian officers seem alright, once you get used to them smelling like whores, that is.’

  ‘It’s a good job that they all grow beards or some of our men might really mistake them for hetaerae?’ Parmenion grinned.

  The Persian contingent consisted of ten thousand light infantry and five thousand light cavalry. Of the infantry, half were spearmen and half peltasts – light troops armed with ranged weapons such as bows, javelins and slings. Like the Scythians, their cavalry rode smaller horses than the Greeks and wore little armour, other than the odd helmet. They were armed with spears and light shields made of wickerwork. Few carried swords though some had long daggers.

  One of the questions that Parmenion asked Pharnabazos at his first war council was about the Egyptian army that they would face once they reached the Nile Delta. The Persian commander shrugged and looked towards one of his staff officers, a Syrian called Aminu. Parmenion later discovered that Aminu was apparently the only one who had actually been to Egypt.

  ‘The Egyptians have long since ceased serving in the army themselves. They use Libyan and Nubian light infantry and peltasts in the main, but they do employ some Greek hoplites, mainly Boeotians. Their army is therefore not dissimilar to our own as far as the infantry is concerned. They have some horsed units but their cavalry also includes camel riders and chariots.’

  ‘Thank you, Aminu. Now if there are no more questions…’ Pharnabazos began but Parmenion had once more question.

  ‘I’m sorry, Excellency, but I would like to know how many men the Pharaoh can field against us.’

  ‘I really have no idea.’ The satrap sighed. ‘Do you know, Aminu?’

  The Syrian shrugged. ‘It varies. I suppose they might be able to muster thirty or forty thousand, maybe more.’

  Iphicrates caught Parmenion’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He shared the young cavalry commander’s surprise that the Persians seemed to know so little about their putative enemy; even more astonishing was the fact that Pharnabazos didn’t seem to think it was important.

  Later they met in the strategos’ tent with the infantry chiliarchs.

  ‘I would be very surprised if the Egyptians still use chariots in battle; they might have done so a few hundred years ago, but not now. The Hittites proved that horsemen were superior to chariots a long time ago. I think Aminu is getting his information from ancient scrolls. I’m beginning to doubt his claim that he has been there.’

  ‘That’s not very encouraging. Unless we know what we will be facing, how can we plan and train to defeat them?’

  ‘We have twenty thousand men here. Do we know how many more will join us at Acre?’ an infantry chiliarch asked.

  ‘Don’t forget that we can expect to lose men on the long march to get there,’ Parmenion pointed out.
‘Our losses could be significant from disease, accidents and desertion by the local Persian levies. They won’t like going so far away from home.’

  ‘Well, I think we have depressed ourselves quite enough for one evening,’ Iphicrates said briskly. ‘Don’t forget the quality of our men and their training. I’m sure that we’ll be a match for these Egyptians, even if the Persians aren’t up to much.’

  Parmenion went to bed that night wondering if he had made the wrong decision in embarking on this adventure with the Athenian strategos.

  It was another week before the army broke camp and started to wend its way slowly towards the coastal road to Aleppo, where they would stop going east and finally follow the coast south towards Acre. Pharnabazos seemed in no great hurry and the fact that he travelled in a litter carried by a relay of slaves limited the speed at which the column could march. Parmenion rode ahead of the army to try and avoid the choking dust and, when he saw that the Persians hadn’t even deployed any of their light cavalry as scouts or flank guards, he took it upon himself to deploy one ilium in that role. They were meant to be travelling through friendly territory but rebellions by satraps and lightning raids by bandits were not unknown. Besides, he thought that it should be standard procedure for any army on the move.

  He learned after a few days under the sweltering sun that wearing armour all day sapped his men’s energy. He therefore allowed those not out as scouts to ride in just an exomis but they had to carry their armour slung on their horse just in case it was needed in a hurry. Several of his ephebes were now old enough to become cavalrymen and, when they camped outside Aleppo, Parmenion held a feast for the eight ephebes who were making the transition from trainees to soldiers and presented them with their armour and weapons. He had a feeling that this campaign would last long enough for even the youngest ephebes, who were currently fifteen, to emerge as trained soldiers.