Elephants and Castles

by Alfred Duggan

  First Demetrius set out to chastise the Nabataeans, as was the duty of any prince who ruled in Syria. These Arab brigands could not stand against a professional army, and there was no doubt of his final victory. But it was by good management, by the energy he infused into his troops, that he caught the elusive plunderers and brought home 700 Nabataean camels with spoil.

  His next foray was impudent and successful; yet in the world of high politics it was an error. News reached Syria that Seleucus had led his troops far to the eastward, to enforce his authority over rebellious vassals; for the moment Mesopotamia lay unguarded. Demetrius, hurrying across the desert by forced marches, entered the great city of Babylon. But after plundering the city and the surrounding country he withdrew to the safety of Syria. When Antigonus heard of this exploit he was very angry.

  ‘You captured one of the most famous cities in the world,’ he wrote, ‘one of the oldest, one of the most populous - and one of the nastiest, the horrid pile of mud. You captured it in accordance with the policy of our family, which is to maintain undivided the Empire of Alexander. Then you sacked it and came home, which makes nonsense of the undivided Empire. If Babylon belongs to Seleucus, where is the Empire which one day may be yours? Once you were inside the place you should have held it. If you were not strong enough to hold it you should never have gone there. Come home, where I can keep an eye on you. Besides, Ptolemy is besieging my city of Halicarnassus, and I may need your help to drive him off.’

  After marching from Syria into Asia Demetrius won great glory by his relief of Hadicarnassus.

  In Tarsus they held a family council; Antigonus, his two sons Demetrius and Philip, and the lady Phila who could judge the public opinion of Macedonia because, as her enemies said, she thought always like every other Macedonian.

  In his eightieth year Antigonus held himself straight as a sword, and his huge frame made him the tallest man in his army. Wounds and the weather had puckered his face, but he moved easily. He was sitting on a chair of embossed bronze, his legs wide apart as though he straddled a horse. Though he wore no belt his scabbarded sword lay against the chair; sixteen years of war had taught all the successors of Alexander to keep their weapons handy.

  Phila stood respectfully in the presence of her father-in-law. But Demetrius and Philip sat on folding stools, such as commanders use on campaigns; for Antigonus had told them to sit down and as his subordinates they had obeyed without demur. They wore red uniforms and high military boots, for they had just come in from drilling the household troops.

  Phila finished her lengthy speech. ‘The Macedonians wish to be ruled by their ancient royal house. The joint-kings are dead, and that may be my brother’s fault; but he is married to a princess of the royal line. So the Macedonians see him as regent for his little son Alexander, the only remaining heir of old King Philip. Yet the feeling is not very strong. Cassander or Antigonus, it’s all one to them. This war will be fought by mercenaries as usual. You need not fear a rising by patriotic peasants.’

  ‘That’s good, my dear,’ said Antigonus with a smile. ‘And I know it’s true, which is a comfort. You are never mistaken about the real sentiments of Macedonia. Well then, your brother’s mercenaries will do as little as they can, just enough to earn their pay. But why should our mercenaries work any harder? A war in which neither side wants to fight is pleasant for common soldiers but very risky to their leaders. To make sure that we beat Cassander we need something extra, a touch of genuine enthusiasm such as Phila says will be lacking in Macedonia. For a very small price we can have that something extra. We shall bring freedom to the cities of Hellas, and then the Hellenes will fight hard for us.’

  ‘Will they, once again?” asked Philip doubtfully. ‘During the last fifteen years they have been promised their freedom time and again. Every general in turn has promised them freedom, and yet every citadel in Hellas still houses a garrison of mercenaries.’

  ‘You weren’t listening, my boy,’ said his father. ‘I don’t suggest that we promise them freedom, for about the fortieth time in these long wars. I propose that we actually set them free - drive out Cassander’s garrison but don’t replace them with men of our own. Let the citizens genuinely manage their own affairs. Even if they don’t help us by taking part in the war, the people of all the other cities will be so thrilled by the hope of freedom that they will rise against Cassander.’

  ‘Give genuine freedom to a city, after our soldiers have won it with their blood? I don’t see what we get out of that, and the mercenaries will complain that they have been cheated of their plunder. It won’t make our troops fight any harder,’ Philip persisted.

  But Demetrius leaped from his stool in excitement. ‘You mean real freedom, Father? Freedom to keep out of the war if that’s what the citizens want? It’s a noble idea, worthy of a hero. I should be proud to lead the army which brings freedom to Hellas.’

  ‘The soldiers will like it too,’ Antigonus said gently. ‘We assume too readily that mercenaries have no decent feelings. The profession of arms is an honourable calling, and a man of honour fights better when he knows his cause is righteous. Freedom is a handy war-cry, I know. Since Alexander died it has been the war-cry of every tyrant. But this time I happen to mean what I say. The first city we capture from Cassander will be left truly free to conduct its own affairs.’

  ‘Then Athens must be the first city freed,’ cried Demetrius. ‘It’s the noblest and most famous city of Hellas, the city most worthy of freedom. Let me be the leader who grants it liberty.’

  ‘Yes, well, that was my plan,’ his father went on. ‘You lead the fleet and the army which will turn Cassander’s men out of Athens. That will strengthen our cause, and it is also right in itself. Before I die I want to see the Empire reunited, perhaps with myself ruling it. We have Asia now, and Syria. As soon as our hands are free in the west we can deal with Seleucus and his orientals. Egypt hardly matters one way or the other. It’s a dead end, out there in Africa. Ptolemy may remain outside the Empire if he’s set on independence. But Europe we must have. Hellenes and Macedonians make the empire a going concern; without them we shall be no better than the creaking old tribute-paying realm of the Achaemenids. Your task is to win over the cities of Hellas, from whom we shall recruit our soldiers and officials.’

  ‘And these soldiers and officials will be better men if they have been reared in genuinely free cities.’ Demetrius could hardly wait for his father to finish speaking. ‘The cities may be our allies if that is what they wish, or they may go their own way in complete independence so long as they don’t actually make war on us. We draw on a pool of free citizens, trained in managing their own affairs. It’s a splendid prospect, and I have the task of bringing it about.’

  ‘If you want to make war on my brother you may,’ said Phila. ‘It’s partly his fault that the line of Alexander is extinct, and that there is no true king in Macedonia.’

  Demetrius was still gazing astern, admiring the good order of his fleet, when a messenger came aft. “We have been sighted from the shore, my lord,’ he said as he saluted. ‘Beacons are burning on Cape Sunium. The news will now be in Athens.’

  ‘Very good,’ said the admiral. ‘Continue on course and call the senior officers to a council of war, here on the quarter-deck.’

  2. THE WELCOME OF ATHENS

  The afternoon sun still shone bright as the flagship approached the straggling harbours of Athens: the commercial basin of Piraeus at the end of the Long Walls, the guarded naval basin under the hill of Munychia, and the strand of Phaleron eastward beyond the fortifications. Demetrius could see that Piraeus lay open; the chain had not been stretched across its mouth. He decided to take a chance, and his muscles tensed at the thrill of it.

  Behind him followed only a squadron of twenty-four ships; the rest lay hull-down on the horizon, oars shipped. But his leading squadron was composed entirely of first-rate fivers, and they carried extra soldiers lying hidden behind the bulwarks. If things went wrong he
could make a fight of it.

  With luck he might get into Piraeus unopposed. At Ceos, their last port of call, they had picked up a rumour that Ptolemy was cruising in these waters; and Ptolemy the ally of Cassander would be welcome in Athens.

  The ships were dressed overall with pennons and greenery as though for a state visit. The officers, entering into the spirit of the trick, had even found a sham Ptolemy. No one was very clear about Ptolemy’s appearance, though many of the mercenaries had served in his army; but he was elderly arid gaunt, with a bushy beard. The man who measured up best to this specification was a veteran armourer. Now he stood, splendid in borrowed armour, in the place of honour on the poop.

  Demetrius, in a plainer cuirass, stood behind his shoulder.

  Piraeus was ready for the fleet, even though the chain had not been stretched across the entry; on the quays Demetrius could see the gleam of helmets and shields. It would be ordinary good manners to muster the citizens for the arrival of a distinguished ally. But a citizen guard of honour would not be ready for real fighting. Peaceful citizens could not charge at a moment’s notice; they were in a mood to risk their lives.

  But the guard on the quays might be Cassander’s regular soldiers, the garrison of Munychia. Professional mercenaries would charge anyone at the word of command; physically and mentally they were always ready for a fight, and they would relish an attack on a small squadron of well-appointed warships, which promised rich plunder. He might now be rowing, with flutes sounding and pennons flying and all the paraphernalia of a formal embassy, into a deadly ambush. In a minute he would know the truth.

  As the oars of the tall sevener backed water, ripples raced across the harbour; she was within the sheltering mole, and only a few feet away ranks of bright shields glided by. This was the decisive moment. Demetrius stepped before the mock Ptolemy, signalling to a loud-voiced herald. The herald called across the water: ‘Antigonus, ruler of Asia, sends to Athens Demetrius his son, to drive out the foreign garrison and restore liberty to the Athenians,’

  The oars of the flagship were cocked high in air; she bumped against the quay. Immediately light-armed javelin-men began to scramble ashore. The defending spearmen were only a few yards away. Now they must attack - or retire.

  The spearmen did neither, or rather they did both at once. Officers pushed to the front, drawn swords in their hands; but their men held back. Though a few spears were levelled no one charged. Then came the clang of a shield thrown down on the cobbles; the noise of metal striking stone cut through the groans of straining wood which filled the harbour as the following fivers made fast to the quay.

  Other shields were cast down; soon the roadway was littered with them. More than half the spearmen thus willingly disarmed. The remainder began to retire in the general direction of the Long Walls, still making a wavering front against the invaders but obviously eager to reach shelter as quickly as possible. The javelin-men were now in line, someone had placed a gangway in position, and the first of the invading spearmen were beginning to file ashore.

  ‘So they really are Athenians, and anxious to give us the keys of their city,’ said the herald with relief in his voice.

  ‘Not all of them,’ Demetrius answered. ‘We must throw a few stones before we worship the Maiden in her high temple.’ He pointed to the fortress of Munychia, where excited soldiers in undress tunics were pushing to close the main gate. ‘It’s a pity we haven’t so much as a mule with us,’ he went on. ‘The leader of an invading army doesn’t look so frightening on foot.’

  He signed to a page, and waited while his purple commander’s cloak was draped over his cuirass. In the full uniform of a general commanding in chief he strode down the gangway to set foot in Europe for the first time since he was taken to Asia as a child, in the days when Alexander was conquering the world.

  The remaining hours of daylight were filled with the dull, detailed routine which a trained soldier never omits even though he is straining to get on with the battle. Demetrius marked out a camp for his small force in a corner of the conquered quayside. Rations were brought ashore, and sentries posted. He held most of Piraeus, as far as the citadel of Munychia and the fortified gate at the seaward end of the Long Walls. Pickets watched to give warning if the enemy should attempt a counter-attack in the dark. One half of the ships rowed up and down in the mouth of the harbour, to frustrate any attempt to rig the chain which closed it; the rowers of the other half slept on shore until it was time for them to relieve the guard ships. A ship of the line was so crowded with rowers and marines that her crew could not rest properly unless arrangements were made for them to sleep on shore.

  Demetrius himself slept only in short naps, slouched in his folding chair. His seal had been affixed to the doors of all warehouses, and his men forbidden to pillage. They were so thankful for their bloodless landing that it was possible to make them obey.

  As he dozed he was continually interrupted by messengers. But they brought good news, which made it easier to get to sleep again. Scouts reported that the gates of Athens were closed and that the garrison in Munychia was standing to arms; but the Long Walls were not held in force. That was better than he had expected. Best of all was the news that the remainder of his fleet had come safely to land east of Phaleron, and general disembarkation would begin at sunrise. On the first day everything had gone well.

  On the second day very little happened, but then the greater part of any campaign is passed in waiting about. The rest of the army landed; patrols probed the temper of the enemy, or rather made certain that there was an enemy in Attica. By evening Demetrius knew that the garrison of Munychia, Cassander’s men, would put up a genuine resistance; and that the citizens of Athens were discussing politics so busily that they had no time to fight either for him or against him.

  So the obvious move on the third day was to keep the pot boiling in Athens. Demetrius had no experience of the ways of a self-governing city. In Asia there were great cities, inhabited by Hellenes or by half-breeds who copied the customs of Hellas; but for the last thirty years their foreign policy had been conducted for them by tough Macedonian soldiers.

  Wisely, he had brought with him an expert on city politics. Aristodemus of Miletus was an elderly gentleman of polished manners who seldom stopped talking; for years he had been talking at the court of Antigonus, chiefly about the conflict between individual liberty and the common good, or whether fundamental law as handed down from the ancestors might restrain the general will. It was not a branch of study in which Demetrius had been well grounded, but he knew that his father esteemed the advice of Aristodemus.

  Though no warrior, Aristodemus was brave. He agreed to present himself at one of the gates of Athens, unarmed, with no protection save a herald’s staff. The Athenians let him in and closed the gate behind him. Without undue distress, Demetrius wondered whether he would ever set eyes on his envoy again.

  In the afternoon Demetrius learned that his light troops, commanded by his cousin Telesphorus, were in position close to a gate in the Long Walls. Shortly afterwards an embassy from Athens sought audience with him.

  Demetrius received the envoys at his headquarters on the quay, which still consisted of nothing but his folding chair. He made a point of getting up from the chair to greet them, and then for lack of seats they stood talking together. To begin with they talked at cross purposes.

  This was because Demetrius was slow to understand that though this was an embassy, and had come from Athens, the envoys did not represent the administration, or the citizens, or indeed anyone except themselves. Their leader was one Habron, son of the famous Lycurgus. He claimed that any agreement he recommended was bound to be ratified by the Assembly. But when Demetrius pressed him he admitted that hitherto he had been without influence; he explained that this was because the wicked administration intimidated his supporters and cheated at the counting of the votes. He spoke at length about the blessings of peace and the advantages of an alliance between Athens and Antigon
us; but it became evident that what he really wanted was a promise that as soon as the invaders controlled the city they would put to death all his personal enemies.

  Demetrius would not commit himself. These were the first Athenians he had met, and they did not seem worthy of the high repute of their city. He answered politely, saying that he would bear in mind what they had told him; and then sent them back through the enemy lines. To his mild disappointment, they got back into the city without any trouble.

  At dawn on the fourth day Telesphorus captured his gate; Demetrius was able to ride round the walls of Munychia, on a baggage mule for lack of a better mount. The little hillock between the harbour of Piraeus and the strand of Phaleron would be a tough nut to crack, held as it was by a determined and resolute garrison. But it must be taken without delay; Athens would not be secure with Cassander’s men so near. He sent to order up his siege train, which had been left on the island of Ceos.

  All this was work he understood; he had been doing it since he commanded at Gaza five years ago. Negotiations with the Athenians would be more difficult; he had never before had dealings with professional politicians. He left it to the politicians to make the first move.

  Before sunset they had made it. Aristodemus came back with a group of envoys. These were genuine ambassadors who represented the city of Athens. Their leader was Demetrius of Phaleron, for the last fifteen years the chief man in their Assembly, so powerful that his enemies called him tyrant though he held no office strange to the constitution.