The Strategos

by H A CULLEY

  This turned out to be Emyntor’s fate. When he was ten he and several other boys were taken into the countryside and told to make their own way back. They were at least three days walk from the city of Sparta and had barely enough rations for one day. They could either track down another boy and take his food, or they could steal it from the Helots who farmed the area.

  Emyntor chose the former option and stalked another, smaller boy from his dormitory. Unfortunately the smaller boy realised he was being followed and ambushed Emyntor, knocking him out with a stone and stealing his food. When he came to, Emyntor realised that his only hope of survival was to steal food from a Helot farm.

  The Helots were the slave class of Sparta and, whilst the citizens did nothing except to train for war, they farmed the land and produced the food. As the Spartans took what they wanted barely leaving the Helots enough to live on, the later hated the former with a passion. Later Thebes was to defeat Sparta by fermenting a Helot revolt, but when Emyntor was a boy the Helots were still subservient.

  They were used to having their larders and chicken coops pillaged by Spartan boys under training but they didn’t have to put up with it and they would catch and thrash any they caught. Some made it back to the city but more died of their injuries before they got there. Emyntor was lucky to be one of the former but to be caught was a disgrace and so the ten year old boy was sent in exile to Pydna, then still a Spartan colony, on the coast of Macedon. He was adopted by a distant relative who was glad to give him a home as she and her husband had no children of their own. In due course he inherited the man’s trading fleet and his estate in the country.

  Emyntor prospered and used the profits from trading to buy two neighbouring estates. Marriage to a Macedonian heiress brought him an even larger estate when his father-in-law died. In due course he had sold his trading fleet and expanded his land even further so that he had become a major landowner; accordingly he had been classed as a noble. By the time that Perdiccas mustered the army against Illyria he was the commander of a chiliarchy of hoplites as well. His one regret was that both his children to date had died in infancy.

  Perdiccas had mustered about ten thousand infantry of various types, including peltasts, and a thousand cavalry. From the reports he had received, Bardylis had fielded a similar sized army and then had proceeded to seize the initiative by invading Northern Macedon.

  Some of Emyntor’s Spartan training had rubbed off on him. Unlike his fellow senior officers, he didn’t ride a horse for the long journey north but marched with his men. This didn’t endear him to his subordinate officers, who felt obliged to follow his example, but it earned him the respect of his men.

  Perdiccas set a grueling pace as he headed north and Emyntor felt exhausted at the end of each day. His men weren’t in much better shape and few had even collapsed during the march north and had to be put onto the baggage carts to recover. As they neared the border Perdiccas called a meeting of his senior officers to plan the advance into Illyria. After the briefing, Emyntor stood up to express his concern about the state of the infantry. It wasn’t just his chiliarchy who were in no fit state to fight.

  ‘Basileus, we must rest the men before we go any further; they are dead on their feet.’

  Most of the other commanders in the room laughed at him. They, of course, had ridden all the way and either hadn’t noticed the state that their men were in, or didn’t care.

  ‘They’ll recover soon enough once they see the enemy before them,’ Perdiccas told him complacently. ‘We must press on before Bardylis has a chance to organize against us.’

  Emyntor knew that the king’s mind was made up but he tried once more to avert what he was certain would turn out to be a disaster.

  ‘But the latest reports say that the Illyrians are already mustered around the city of Styberra. They are rested and well prepared, we are neither.’

  ‘That’s enough, Emyntor. If you don’t want to fight, then I’ll appoint another chiliarch and you can go back to Pydna.’

  ‘I’m no coward but I’m not a fool either.’

  ‘Enough! You’ll appoint one of your pentakosiarchs to command your chiliarchy in your place and you’ll take command of the baggage train.’

  ‘Basileus, I am a noble of Macedon. Either I’ll fight leading my chiliarchy or I’ll go and join your brother Philip. At least he is not about to lead his army to disaster!’

  The king grew purple with rage and his other commanders roared their anger at Emyntor, several striking him in anger. He stood there and took it, not trying to defend himself. Finally, he turned and pushed his way out of the tent, went to find his horse and his skeuphorus and rode out of the camp in the dark.

  He camped out of sight of the army and woke the next morning feeling sore and bruised. He washed in a stream and wasn’t surprised to see from his reflection that he had a black eye, a broken nose and that his beard was matted with blood. He opened his mouth and wasn’t surprised to see he had two broken front teeth.

  He mounted his horse and, followed by his skeuphorus, he followed the army as it trudged northwards into Illyria. Two days later it marched onto the plain to the south of Styberra to confront Bardylis’ army. When the Macedonians had formed up facing their enemies Emyntor cantered across the plain and along the front of the army until he located his chiliarchy. He dismounted and placed his helmet on his head; his skeuphorus took the reins of his master’s horse and trotted off to join the baggage train. The pentakosiarch who had been in temporary command grinned at him and ceded his place, murmuring ‘welcome back.’

  A messenger from Perdiccas galloped up with an order for him to join to the baggage train, but he refused and his men started to yell insults at the messenger. Suddenly one of men shouted that, if Emyntor left the field of battle, then they would go with him. The rest of the chiliarchy roared their agreement. The messenger didn’t know what to do in response to this mutinous reaction, so he turned and rode back to where Perdiccas sat with the cavalry at the rear.

  Perdiccas might have been pig-headed but he wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t know when he’d been beaten. He decided he would deal with Emyntor after the battle and ordered the peltasts to advance and attack. The Illyrians did the same and it was obvious that they were just killing each other with no tactical advantage being gained by either side. Eventually Perdiccas ordered their withdrawal and the Macedonian peltasts fell back. The Illyrians decided to follow up so that they could weaken the hoplites but the protective screen of peltasts that had re-formed after the withdrawal held them off and eventually they too retreated.

  Emyntor watched as the Illyrian hoplites started to advance. As he had warned Perdiccas, they enemy were well rested and he knew that they were better trained. He had been given an eight foot spear and a shield when he took his place in the front rank of his chiliarchy and now he waited to engage the hoplite immediately opposite him. The man thrust his spear at the gap between Emyntor’s shield and his helmet, aiming for the eyes, but Emyntor moved his shield up and the spear point glanced off it. He thrust his own spear at the exposed right thigh of his opponent and had the satisfaction of feeling the point slide into the muscle.

  Now the man behind his original assailant brought his spear down, aiming for Emyntor’s legs. He dropped his shield to deflect the blow but that left his face and neck exposed. Luckily the man behind him saw the danger and thrust his own spear into the face of the second enemy hoplite.

  The battle continued in this way for an hour but the weary Macedonians were getting slower and slower in their reactions to the enemy’s attack and more and more men died. Emyntor had been wounded, once by a slash across his cheek, which would have been far worse if it wasn’t for his helmet, and again in the thigh. He had lost a great deal of blood and he felt himself starting to black out. He was a liability where he was and so he allowed himself to be taken to the rear.

  The Macedonian phalanxes were crumbling and panic set in. The less experienced hoplites in the rear o
f the phalanxes began to fade away and then the rest were routed and turned to flee. It was at that point that Bardylis ordered his cavalry forward to pursue and cut down the fleeing Macedonians.

  In an effort to save what was left of his army Perdiccas led his own cavalry in a counter charge. He skewered one Illyrian horsemen but lost his spear in doing so. He drew his sword and tried to bat away the next enemy spear with it, but he failed and the point caught him in the mouth. It exited the back of his head, knocking his helmet clear and he fell to the ground. The second son of King Amyntas was dead.

  Emyntor was captured at the baggage train where the physicians had patched him up and sewed up his cuts. He would mend if his wounds didn’t get infected, but he was now a prisoner of the Illyrians.

  Chapter Ten – The Regent and the Boy King

  359 to 358 BC

  Philip was asleep having exhausted himself in the company of his latest catamite when the messenger arrived with news of the Battle of Styberra and the death of King Perdiccas. He also brought the unwelcome news that the assembly in Pella had elected Perdiccas’ young son as the new king. As the boy was only six, Philip had been named as regent until Amyntas IV came of age. He was also appointed as Polemarch of the army.

  He had difficulty in accepting the humiliating defeat inflicted on his brother’s army as real, especially as Macedon had reportedly lost over four thousand dead and another three thousand as captives. But he was even more concerned when he heard about the election of the boy Amyntas as the new king. Macedon needed firm government now and, although he learned with relief that he had been appointed as regent, he would have to court allies and make compromises to hold onto power. Being king himself would have given him a much freer hand to do what was necessary.

  However, he had to accept the present position for now and muster his own army to save Northern Macedon, which was now being conquered by Bardylis city by city. Parmenion sent orders throughout Macedon to raise four thousand more hoplites. Philip didn’t want another army of citizens; he wanted well-drilled hoplites that were at least the equal of the Illyrians. With the introduction of the sarissa, he hoped that they would prove to be invincible. So he waited impatiently for six months until they were properly trained before acting.

  Finally he was ready. The king’s Companions, both foot and horsemen, had died with Perdiccas so Philip renamed his original two thousand hoplites as his foot Companions with similar status to his epihipparchia of cavalry, who had become his mounted Companions. This gave him a core of three thousand Companions. This was supported by three thousand peltasts, mainly javelin throwers and archers, and another hipparchia of cavalry. By September 359 Philip had a well-trained army of six thousand hoplites, three thousand peltasts and fifteen hundred cavalry. However, something then happened which delayed his attack on the Illyrian invaders.

  Paionia lay to the north of Macedon and to the west of Illyria. This country, with Thrace and Illyria, had reportedly been bribed by Athens to form an alliance against Macedon, but it wasn’t until after Perdiccas’ death that Agis, the King of Paionia, dared to launch raids into northern Macedon. Philip decided to deal with the easier problem first and set off for the Paionian capital, Stobi, at the junction of the Rivers Axios and Erigon.

  Agis panicked when Philip crossed into his territory and sued for peace but the regent was having none of it. He couldn’t afford to leave a hostile Paionia behind him when he advanced into Illyria so he rejected Agis’ advances and continued on his way, destroying everything he came across.

  Agis met him in battle on the banks of the Axios. Philip deployed his cavalry and peltasts on the flanks with his foot Companions in the centre and his other chiliarchies on either side of them. When the Paionian peltasts, mainly slingers, ran forward two hipparchia of Macedonian cavalry charged into them, cutting them down as if they were harvesting crops. Agis thought of committing his own cavalry but, as he only had a few hundred, he decided to leave them in reserve. Instead his sent his infantry forward.

  These were a mixture of hoplites and light infantry. Neither could make any impression on the Macedonian phalanxes, the long sarissas keeping them from coming to grips with their enemy. In despair, Agis led his cavalry in a desperate charge at the centre of the Macedonians, hoping to create a breech in the seemingly impregnable formation which his infantry could exploit.

  Instead Agis was gutted on the point of a sarissa and his army was routed.

  -o0o-

  Parmenion made his way along the corridor of the house in the city of Idomenai that Philip had commandeered. He had been summoned to the regent’s bedchamber just after dawn and wondered what could be so urgent. It wasn’t the first time that he had talked to him whilst he was still in bed; in fact, it was becoming a habit. Philip often woke up with an idea that he had thought of overnight and wanted to discuss it immediately he was awake.

  Never, in all the times that these dawn meetings had occurred, had he discovered Philip sleeping alone, and never had his bed Companion been the same. Often it was a nubile young girl or even two, but just as often it was a boy or youth. On one occasion it had been the young guard who should have been on duty outside Philip’s door. Today Parmenion was relieved to discover that it was a girl who fled giggling as soon as Parmenion was shown into the bedchamber. It wasn’t that he disapproved of Philip’s omnivorous tastes – Parmenion knew that some of his officers also enjoyed the attentions of male lovers, especially on campaign – it was the regent’s promiscuity that upset him.

  ‘Ah, Parmenion. Attractive little filly isn’t she?’ he asked as he watched until the girls’ white posterior disappeared into an adjoining room.

  ‘Yes, Philip, quite delightful I’m sure; but presumably you didn’t ask me here to admire your bed Companion?’

  ‘Do I detect a shade of disapproval in your voice?’

  ‘Who you sleep with is your decision, basileus.’

  Philip grinned. ‘You do disapprove! Have you ever slept with anyone else apart from Kharis?’

  ‘Not since I married, basileus.’

  ‘Well, I’m not married yet; not that I kid myself that I’ll remain monogamous after I do – and stop calling me basileus. I’m not the king and I know you only do it when you’re upset with me.’

  ‘You have had a new idea, Philip?’

  ‘What? Ah yes. It’s the way that we use the phalanx. Typically the rows are ten men deep and the front row fights until they fall or are too exhausted to continue. They are the most experienced fighters, which is sensible, but the younger men at the rear don’t learn anything except how to push the man in front to keep the phalanx steady. My idea is to rotate them well before the front men get tired. That way the men doing the fighting will stay fresh and everyone will gain in experience.’

  ‘Yes, I can see the logic. My only worry is that we are exposing youths who were ephebes only a short while ago to much more experienced fighters. When I fought the Athenians just after I had graduated from the Amphipolitan academy as a phylearch at the head of my file I thought then that it wasn’t a good idea. Many of my Companions died as a result of the practice.’

  ‘Yes, but by the time that the rearmost men reach the front, the leading men in the enemy formation will either be dead or be exhausted. In any case, I want to increase the depth of the phalanx to sixteen. It’ll add weight and it will take longer for the youngest men to reach the front.’

  ‘Very good, Philip. I’ll start work on re-organising the hoplites accordingly and then we’ll start training using the rotation idea.’

  To Parmenion’s surprise the idea was popular, except for those phylearchs who found themselves demoted due to the increased size of each file. The men in the rear were eager to fight instead of just pushing and the leading fighters knew that they had a much greater chance of surviving a battle now.

  In late September Philip led his army out of Paionia, which he had now incorporated as a federated state into Macedon, to attack Illyria from the east. This
caught Bardylis by surprise as his army was spread throughout Upper Macedon and he had to retreat north to give him time to recall them.

  Philip marched on unopposed until he approached the Kirli Dirven Pass. He camped in front of the entrance to the pass and sent his peltasts to secure the heights above. The next day he marched through the pass without a problem and moved out onto the open plain of the Ergon Valley before Lyncus, principal city of the Province of Lyncestis . The province used to be an independent kingdom before it was incorporated into Macedon and then later absorbed into Illyria.

  Bardylis watched as the Macedonians streamed out onto the broad Erigon Valley and made derisive comments to the sycophantic officers grouped around him. He shuffled his posterior uncomfortably as he sat on the hard wooden saddle and wished that he’d had his servants pad it out more with woolen blankets. He was now nearly ninety and it was amazing that he could still ride, however painfully and precariously. Certainly allowing his horse to move at anything more than a gentle walk was out of the question.

  As the Macedonians formed up a group of horsemen detached itself from the Illyrian army and rode across the plain towards their enemy. Philip assumed that Bardylis wanted to parley and so he took Parmenion and a hipparchia of his Companions with him and rode to meet him at a canter as the other party rode towards him at a much slower pace.

  ‘Hail Philip, Regent of Macedon; the noble Bardylis, King of Illyria, wishes to offer you the opportunity to withdraw from his territory. In return, you will need to confirm his entitlement to keep the territory of Upper Macedon that he now holds through right of conquest.’

  When the pompous officer sitting beside the king had finished speaking they sat waiting for Philip to respond, but he said nothing. He looked his enemy up and down slowly. Bardylis looked extremely uncomfortable sitting on a horse. No doubt his servants had to lift him into the saddle, Philip thought, and he noticed that two riders sat on their horses very close on either side, presumably to stop the old man from falling off. His face was badly wrinkled and folds of skin hung down from his cheeks and neck. His bare arms were little more than bones with flabby fat hanging from them and his helmet, tipped to the back of his head to expose his face, was made of leather, Presumably a metal one was too heavy for him to wear.