The Strategos

by H A CULLEY

  ‘Bardylis, your offer is so ridiculous it is insulting. I am here to avenge the death of my brother and to ensure that Illyria is never in a position to trouble Macedon again. Surrender the cities of mine that you’ve taken, cede to me all the land as far as Lake Lychnitas, release the prisoners you took at Styberra and give me fifty sons of your nobles as hostages against your future good behavior, and I’ll let you retreat north through the mountains to Dardania.’

  Parmenion then realised what Philip was after. The hostages would hardly be necessary if he gained all the Illyrian territory as far as the twin ranges of mountains the other side of Lake Lychnitas. There were only two practical routes for an army through the mountains: one through the Wolf’s Pass and one down the east side of the lake. Both could be easily blocked by a relatively small force if Philip ruled the area.

  Bardylis laughed and spoke with a stronger voice than Philip was expecting.

  ‘You must be drunk, boy,’ he roared. ‘Prepare to meet the same death as your inept brother. Then all of Macedon with be mine.’

  Philip smiled quietly. If his men weren’t motivated enough already, Bardylis’ threat to conquer all of Macedon and subject them and their families to Illyrian rule would infuriate them.

  ‘You will soon discover that I’m not my brother.’

  With that he pulled his horse’s head around and galloped back across the plain towards his waiting army.

  -o0o-

  Thetima, mother of King Amyntas IV of Macedon, paced the floor, consumed with worry. At twenty five she had been three years older than Perdiccas, her late husband. Her father, who had also fallen at the Battle of Styberra, had been an important noble from western Macedon and she felt that this, and her status as the former queen and the mother of the present king, gave her status above everyone else at Pella.

  However, Philip had appointed a young noble called Diororus, to take charge of the guards at the palace whilst he was away on campaign. Diororus was only nineteen and his main claim to fame was that he was the Companion on sentry duty outside Philip’s bedchamber when he caught the latter’s fancy. It was one of Philip’s rare mistakes.

  Diororus was a vain young man who thought that he was a lot cleverer than he was. That night in bed with the king had also given him idea above his station. His main duties were to draw up the guard rostas, check up on the sentries and be responsible overall for the defence of the palace. It should have been a simple enough task, but Diororus took it as an opportunity to throw his weight around. He began to act as if he was the senior person in the palace.

  This didn’t go down well with Thetima, who already felt slighted. She thought that she should have been joint-guardian of her son with Philip. She was affronted by Diororus’ attitude, especially as he ignored her comments and instructions. This fed her anger and her growing paranoia that he meant her son harm. She didn’t trust Philip and she convinced herself that Diororus had been instructed by Philip to kill her son. History had given her plenty of grounds for her suspicions but in reality Philip didn’t mean his nephew any harm. That didn’t mean he proposed to allow him to remain as king, however, once the present campaign was over.

  Eventually her distrust of Diororus’ grew sufficiently for her to plan his murder. She had convinced herself that she had to act before he had an opportunity to kill the young Amyntas. Unfortunately she decided to do the deed herself and looked for an opportunity to get the man on his own and off guard. It would have been more sensible to have bribed some of the guards she knew were loyal to her son to kill him. That might have averted all the trouble that followed.

  Her plan was simple. She sent for him intending to seduce him and then, when he was off guard, plunge the dagger she had hidden in the bedclothes into his neck. She lay provocatively on the bed dressed in a simple lined shift when he knocked and she bade him enter. He was dressed for duty in an exomis with a linothrax over it.

  Diororus stopped just inside the door when he saw the king’s mother lying half naked on the bed with one leg crooked so that it wasn’t covered by the shift. Unfortunately, what Thetima didn’t know was that Diororus hadn’t been at all averse to acting as Philips’ bedmate. Women, even young girls, did nothing for him, so her attempt to seduce him was doomed to failure.

  ‘You sent for me, kyria?’ Try as he might Diororus couldn’t keep the contempt he felt for her out of his voice.

  ‘Yes, Diororus. Ever since my husband was killed I have felt lonely and unloved. I have decided that it’s time I re-married and I wondered if you might be interested.’

  She moved slightly to reveal a little more of her naked thigh to his gaze.

  He smiled but made no move towards the bed.

  ‘I am honoured, kyria, but I fear that you would be sadly disappointed in me as a lover. Certain of my Companions and, of course, Prince Philip, provide all the sexual satisfaction I crave.’

  Thetima had heard, of course, that Philip’s carnal tastes were rather omnivorous and she knew that the hated Diororus was one of his favourites, but she hadn’t suspected that they were actually lovers. She found the thought of the two of them rutting in bed together somewhat nauseous and she had difficulty in keeping the smile on her face.

  ‘Have you ever tried sex with a real woman? Then how do you know that you won’t enjoy it. Come here and I’ll make you forget all about Philip and his unnatural practices.’

  Diororus leered at her. ‘I might be tempted to ride you the same way he does me but I don’t think you’d enjoy it very much. Although, perhaps we could call the sentry in and he could pleasure you the way you’re used to whilst I’m ploughing you the way that I enjoy. What do you say?’

  Thetima was horrified at the suggestion and, grabbing the dagger from its hiding place, he leaped at the unprepared young officer. She had aimed at his throat but he flinched at the last moment and the point of the dagger snagged in his linen linothrax just below the exposed neck.

  The young man’s reaction was instant and unpremeditated. As he’d been trained, he reacted instinctively and, quickly drawing his sword, he chopped down at the woman as she sought to free the dagger ready for another attempt at severing his carotid artery. He chopped down and the edge of the sword cut deeply into the back of Thetima’s neck.

  Diororus was horrified. All he’d had to do was disarm a woman and instead he had dealt the mother of his king a fatal blow. He panicked and ran from the room, leaving the door wide open. Had he departed calmly and closed it behind him, the body wouldn’t have been discovered until the following morning.

  With Thetima dead and Diororus identified as the culprit by the sentry outside her door, the chamberlain assumed command and appointed the eldest of the Companions as the new guard commander. The Companions, who had been under his command only a short while ago, came and arrested Diororus before he’d finished packing a satchel with essentials ready to flee.

  However, the chamberlain’s period in charge was brief. A Macedonian noble called Agathanor of Gazeros had arrived at the palace earlier on that fateful day on his way to join Philip with a tagma of hoplites. He had deliberately timed his journey so that he was certain that he would arrive after any battle. That way he could pretend to be a loyal supporter if Philip was victorious, or turn tail back to Eastern Macedonia if the Illyrians had won.

  Ever an opportunist, Agathanor saw his chance. When he was told about Thetima’s murder, he took charge as the senior noble present in the capital and replaced the Companions with his own men to guard the palace. The Companions were confused and virtually leaderless as their new commander was too feeble to challenge Agathanor, so they allowed themselves to be confined to their barracks.

  He forgot all about reinforcing Philip and decided to kidnap Amyntas. Once he had him safely locked up in Gazeros he could issue orders in his name and force Philip to acknowledge him as the boy king’s guardian and co-regent of Macedon.

  Two hours later Agathanor informed the chamberlain that he was taking the king
to a place where he would be safe and he left Pella with the protesting Amyntas sitting in front of Agathanor’s burliest bodyguard. He wasn’t an unduly bright child and he was only four years old, but he was spirited and struggled against his captors restraining arm until the man got fed up and threatened to knock him out with the hilt of his sword.

  Two weeks later Agathanor and Amyntas arrived at Gazeros to the north of Lake Kerninitis near the Thracian border. From there the ambitious noble sent his nephew with an escort as an emissary to Philip, carrying his demands for joint rule in his captive’s name. It was two months before he got his reply. It came in the form of a basket which was delivered to his palace by an urchin paid by Philip’s messenger, who had more sense than to deliver it in person. When Agathanor opened the basket he found a round object tightly wrapped in oilcloth. Unfortunately, the cloth might have disguised the smell until it was unwrapped, but it had done little to preserve the rotting head of Agathanor’s nephew.

  Chapter Eleven – The Battle of Erigon Valley

  358 BC

  Parmenion led the cavalry forward and took position at the rear of the Macedonian army whilst Philip took command himself of the hoplite infantry in the centre. The wings were occupied by the peltasts – the slingers, javelin throwers and archers. Behind them the light infantry – unarmoured men armed with the shorter eight foot spears and a smaller shield - took up their positions.

  Bardylis had initially formed up his own hoplites in a similar fashion but then he changed his mind. He was worried about flank attacks by the enemy cavalry. As Philip’s horsemen significantly outnumbered his own he was convinced that they would drive his own cavalry from the field and then charge into the vulnerable flanks of his phalanx. He therefore ordered the latter to form a hollow square ten men deep so that his hoplites would present a solid line of spear points to the horses whatever direction they attacked from.

  In doing this Bardylis had assumed that his hoplites would prove a match for Philip’s men and completely disregarded the advantage provided by the longer sarissas that the Macedonians now used. Of course, he was confident in the knowledge that Illyrian hoplites were the best infantry in the Hellenic world and arrogantly expected to defeat the inexperienced young Philip, just as he had his elder brother.

  The skirmishers advanced first, as expected, and the two sides exchanged missiles, causing casualties in equal measure to each other. Philip saw this as a waste of time and men, so he signaled to Parmenion, who ordered the cavalry forward.

  As he rode forward at a canter he signaled to Orestes, who led his half of the cavalry around the periphery of the battlefield and headed towards the Illyrian horsemen in the rear. The latter hadn’t anticipated this move and, in any case, their view was obscured by the clouds of dust thrown up by the battle between the peltasts and by the hooves of the Macedonian horses. By the time that they became aware of the seven hundred mounted men bearing down on their left flank it was too late to react effectively. Orestes and his men smashed into them and twenty minutes later the remnants of the Illyrian cavalry were fleeing the field.

  A few of the Macedonians ignored the recall sounded again and again by the keras and ultimately paid with their lives but, nevertheless, Orestes’ casualties had been remarkably light. He decided to stay where he was in the rear of the enemy phalanx. From there he threatened its rear ranks, making it nigh on impossible for Bardylis to change his formation and they could also intercept those who tried to flee.

  Meanwhile, the Macedonian peltasts had broken off their engagement on their left flank, as ordered, and were being pursued by the Illyrians. Parmenion led the other eight hundred horsemen towards the advancing enemy peltasts who suddenly realised their predicament. Chaos ensued as Parmenion led his men into them, using his spear to kill several before it lodged in the spine of someone and he had to let go of it.

  He had just drawn his sword when two slingers, who can’t have been more than fourteen, showed remarkable courage and leaped up together to pull him from the saddle. He hit the ground with a loud thump that drove the wind from his body. He was still gasping for air when he saw one of the boys pick up the sword he had dropped when he fell and start towards him. Luckily his shield was still strapped to his arm and he was able to bring it across to protect his body as the boy stabbed down wildly at him.

  The sword struck the shield and he pulled it back to thrust it into Parmenion’s exposed groin when a sword wielded by a Macedonian cut across the lad’s neck and his head went bouncing away as the body crumpled to the ground. The other boy cried ‘no’ and threw his arms around his brother. Parmenion got up breathing heavily and picked up the fallen sword. He hesitated for a moment, loathe to kill an unarmed boy with his back to him. He raised his arm to deliver the fatal blow then felt a blow to his shoulder. He whirled round ready to deal with thin new threat to find his horse standing there patiently waiting for him to remount. He laughed in relief and swung himself up into the saddle and, with a final glance at the grieving boy, he set off to rejoin his men.

  The peltasts were now routed, as were the light infantry on that flank. And he looked around for a man with a keras. A minute later the discordant notes of the recall rang out and his men reformed on him. As they rode back ready to carry out the same operation on the other flank Parmenion saw the Illyrian boy again, still cradling the decapitated corpse of his brother. He issued a swift order and one of his men rode over, knocked the boy out and threw him over his horse’s neck.

  However, when Parmenion lined his men up ready to charge again, Philip told him to stay where he was. This time, when the Macedonian peltasts retreated, their Illyrian counterparts ran into the advancing phalanx and their sixteen foot long sarissas. Had the peltasts been properly organised, they might have been able to inflict some casualties on the hoplites, but they were little more than a mob by this stage.

  The hoplites in the first few rows stabbed and stabbed and continued to advance, walking over the dead as they did so. The peltasts fled and the light infantry behind them did the same. Orestes let them go. They would play no further part in the battle, and they were unimportant in any case. His priority was to destroy the hoplites - the pride of the Illyrian army – as a fighting force.

  By now the Macedonian centre was positioned so that only half of it was facing the Illyrian square; the rest confronted nothing more than an open plain littered with the dead and badly wounded. Philip then showed his genius. He gave the order for the phalanx to execute the most difficult of maneuvers. He instructed them to change their front by forty five degrees so that they were facing the corner of the enemy square obliquely.

  This was something that they had practiced endlessly until they had perfected it. The phylearchs on the left turned through the requisite forty five degrees and the ranks behind them rushed to their right until they lined up behind them again. Meanwhile, the other phylearchs ran forward until they were again in line with those on the left, their men moving in a curve to take up position behind them once more.

  The change in direction of advance had taken about ten minutes. During it the phalanx had been vulnerable but the Illyrians watched in open-mouthed surprise, not understanding what was happening, and they missed their opportunity.

  When Philip gave the order and the Macedonian hoplites started their advance they struck the point of the square and he had difficulty in getting his men to hold the line straight. The natural tendency was for the two sides away from the point to fold it to get to grips with the enemy. However, this would have been fatal. The line would have become bowed and the Illyrians could have driven deep into the middle of the phalanx.

  It was only the hours of training that prevented this from happening. Slowly the Macedonian sarissas ate away at the hoplites at the point of the hollow square and it started to crumble. Once that happened more and more of the Macedonian front ranks came into contact with the Illyrians at an angle and then what Philip had aimed for happened. The Macedonians broke through into the
centre of the square.

  As more and more pushed through the breach, the Illyrians facing outwards on the two sides so far unengaged in the fighting started to turn around to face the threat from within. Soon most of them were facing inwards. This was the moment that Parmenion had been waiting for.

  He signaled both the commanders of the light infantry and Orestes and they raced to attack those two sides of the square. Finding themselves assailed front and back the Illyrians fought desperately but the outcome was now a forgone conclusion. On the hill from where he had watched the battle with his Companions, Bardylis turned and allowed himself to be led away to safety.

  Parmenion led his cavalry into the attack time and time again, cutting ever more deeply into the thinning line of hoplites. Finally it broke and the hoplites now fought desperately to escape. A few hundred yards away Orestes was also attacking the hoplite square. He knocked a spear head away with his shield and reached over his horse’s neck with his own spear to thrust it into the face of his attacker. The point entered the eye socket having glanced of his nasal protector and the man fell away. Orestes yanked his spear clear and looked for his next quarry.

  A knot of hoplites were stranding firm to his left so he charged at them, turning his horse at the last moment so that he presented his horse sideways on to their jabbing spears and used his shield to protect horse and rider as much as possible. He thrust down overhand to hit the throat of one man but another jabbed his spear into the rear of his horse. The animal reared up in agony, kicking one of the hoplites in the chest and crushing it, but Orestes was thrown off his back. He landed on top of the man he had killed moments ago, which broke his fall.