‘As a shower of gold, naturally. Anyway, that’s how my brother-in-law sees me. Then that’s settled. By winter I shall be back in Athens, for a few more of these little suppers. Then next summer I chase Cassander out of Macedonia and then conquer the rest of the civilised world. With my father, of course, for so long as he lives; but he’s past eighty. Oh, by the way, there’s just one thing, Stratocles, your Mysteries at Eleusis. They are pretty famous. It would help my prestige if I were initiated before I march against Macedonia.’
‘Would it? Would it help a god? If you say so, of course. You give the orders here in Athens. But it takes time, you know. The lesser mysteries come on quite soon, and you must go through with them before you can walk to Eleusis after harvest. In between you must keep yourself ritually pure, which means among other things that you may not kill a man. Won’t that hamper your war in the Peloponnese?’
‘It would, if I were bound by the rules. But I am a god, above rules. You must alter the rules to suit me.’
‘H’m,’ said Stratocles. Demetrius understood that these Mysteries were another of those sacred civic functions which even atheists took seriously, if they were patriotic Athenians. But Stratocles would fix it; that was what he was for, to fix things.
Before he left Athens Demetrius had peeped into the Basket and contemplated the Winnowing Fan, and done all the other things proper to the Great Mysteries. It had been quite easy to fix. The ingenious Stratocles discovered that, though the sacred time-table was laid down in detail, there was nothing in the ritual about the ordering of the calendar. So the Assembly under his leadership voted that the month Munychion should become Anthesterion until the Lesser Mysteries had been accomplished, and then should become Boedromion for the Greater Mysteries. After that the month went back to Munychion again, and the year proceeded as usual. A progressive democracy is not bound by antique precedent.
Most initiates were impressed by the Mysteries. Demetrius was not. It was true that corn grew again after being buried; and quite likely, by analogy, that men came alive again after death. But all over Asia, from Tyre to Samothrace, they taught much the same thing. In Eleusis they taught it with magnificent stage-management, but it did not seem novel to him.
He was a man and a god and a king and a few other things, and he commanded the strongest army in the world. He could manage his own career, without help from mysterious divinities.
9. CAPTAIN GENERAL OF HELLAS
Argos was an ancient city, replete with historical associations and well known to every Hellene; but in summer the lower town was disgustingly hot. The citadel, the famous Larissa, lay at the top of such a steep hill that you could hardly lodge in it and appear frequently in the market-place. In a stuffy little house by the harbour Demetrius sweltered and grumbled.
His servants were strapping him into his armour of parade, which no sensible man would wear for a dinner party in summer. But his host was the absurdly military King Pyrrhus, who hardly ever wore civilian clothes.
The head valet fastened the cuirass, fumbling as he tried to make it comfortable. ‘Pull it in, man,’ Demetrius exclaimed testily. ‘If I must wear this thing I will look like a soldier. Since I can’t be comfortable I don’t want to see a great sagging belly quivering in front of me. There, brace it up. While I stand that’s all right, and if I lie down carefully it won’t be too bad. But if Pyrrhus wants me to sit in a chair, I must just be sick after every course. What do you think, Telesphorus? How do I look?’
Telesphorus also wore armour. He leaned against the wall, watching his cousin; leaning was cooler than sitting down.
‘You look divine, as always, my lord god. Did you expect another answer? Seriously, that belly can be tucked away, I see. But you must sweat it off pretty soon or it will be with you for life.’
‘It will soon be gone. Forced marches over Thessaly will do the trick. I shan’t ever get it back again. It came from feasting with dear Lamia, and there will be no more of those feasts.’
‘Is that so, my lord god, no more?’ Telesphorus spoke in the blank non-committal voice of the wary courtier.
‘Don’t be so cautious and stuffy, cousin. There’s no one to overhead except these valets who know all my secrets anyway. Lamia is past history. Living with her was great fun, but not the kind of fun that can go on for ever. Perhaps I am too old for it, perhaps everyone gets tired of permanent excitement. Besides, my health wouldn’t stand it. This belly is a warning.’
‘I thought there was something of a love affair.’ Telesphorus spoke naturally, forgetting the discretion of a courtier.
‘You thought wrong, cousin. Of course Lamia didn’t love me, why should she? She is a concubine and I was her wealthy protector. You don’t expect love in that relationship. Because I set her up in Athens she was grateful, nothing more. To me she was a new kind of woman, a woman with a mind of her own. Now the novelty has worn off. We parted friends, but knowing we would never meet again. I suppose she will buy a broadminded husband and a decent farm near Athens, and live happy ever after. She can afford it.’
‘Then for the moment you are unattached? That’s best, with a wedding tomorrow. Shall I tell Pyrrhus? He will be pleased to hear it. By the way, I suppose he is still King Pyrrhus?’
‘Of course he is. The Epirots may have thrown him out, but he’ll be back one day. That young man is a very good soldier, which is all they ask of their kings. In the meantime, as my brother-in-law he will have a command in my army and all the honours of his royal rank.’
‘A good soldier - but nothing more. The other day I heard a story about him. He was at a party where some friends of Lamia’s were discussing music. Someone asked him a question about flute-playing. He answered curtly that he was no judge of flute-players, but that Polyperchon was the best soldier he had ever seen handle a rear-guard. He thinks it unkingly to talk about any topic except war.’
‘Well, it’s all he understands,’ said Demetrius with a shrug. ‘He is wise to avoid subjects on which he is ignorant, even though it limits his conversation. He is more than half a barbarian. But his sister was good enough to be betrothed to young Alexander, Roxana’s son, and therefore she must be good enough for me.’
Telesphorus fidgeted with a buckle of his cuirass. He was not to be drawn into a discussion of his cousin’s love-life, which appeared to be more complicated than he could understand.
At the banquet they talked soldiering, naturally. Pyrrhus was a little contemptuous of the citizen-levies which Hellas had promised to furnish to her new Captain General; though even he had to admit that Hellene warships, and their sailors, were as good as any in the world. Besides, there was the moral effect.
‘It’s the position they gave Alexander,’ Demetrius said proudly. ‘I am the elected leader of Hellas against the barbarians as he was. I have all Hellas behind me, as he had.’
‘All Hellas?’ asked Telesphorus.
‘Practically all. At least no city is against me. Thessaly still holds by Cassander, I know, but Thessaly isn’t truly Hellene. Sparta stands neutral, of course. But no one expects anything else from the Spartans. The Messenians must stay at home to watch the Spartans Otherwise everyone is on my side. Every city is democratic, too, even if they happen to use their votes to elect oligarchs to govern them. This Hellenic League really means business. Only today I got a message from Corinth, which shows how completely the Corinthians are backing me.’
He paused to make sure that everyone was listening. This news was really important and gratifying. He had hoped for something of the kind, but this was even better than he had expected.
‘The Corinthians have asked me - asked me, mind you - to put a garrison into Acrocorinth, so that they may live safe from Macedonians and oligarchs. I have graciously granted their request.’
There were murmurs of congratulation from all except King Pyrrhus, who muttered ‘Acrocorinth’ in an awed tone and leaned forward to draw diagrams on the table with a finger dipped in wine.
King Pyrr
hus, though very young, lacked boyish beauty. There was something odd about his front teeth, which gave him the mouth of a snarling dog; his hair lay low on a wrinkled brow. But he was immensely strong and active, and his glance was never still. He looked a gallant barbarian warchief, with no traces of Hellene civility.
Now his eyes gleamed with simple animal cupidity as he spoke. ‘Acrocorinth! Impregnable, and big enough to hold an army! Yes, that gives you the Peloponnese, and already you hold Attica. I don’t care what title the League gives you, or whether the cities are content under your rule. In truth you are King of Hellas.’
‘Which makes me worthy to marry your sister, I hope,’ Demetrius answered graciously. ‘When you are my brother-in-law we shall cope with my other brother-in-law, Cassander. It won’t be long before we unite the whole Empire of Alexander.’
This was blunt speaking, but it was as well to get the situation understood before the wedding. Pyrrhus nearly missed the point, until he saw from the manner of the others that Demetrius had said something important. Presently the meaning battered its way into my mind.
‘So you will not put away Phila? She is still your Queen? I suppose my Deidameia will also bear the title of Queen? Second Queen, perhaps?’ he frowned.
‘I explained it all to your steward, King Pyrrhus. I can’t dismiss Phila, daughter of Antipater and mother of my heir. For one thing, she had a great following among the Macedonians, which will be useful when I rule them. She must remain my Queen, my first Queen. But she is old enough to be Deidameia’s mother. As a matter of fact my son Antigonus is older than my bride of tomorrow. So just for the present Deidameia will be my second Queen, until in the course of nature she succeeds to Phila’s position. As to having two Queens at once, all kings do it. Alexander had more than one, and I expect you will when you are older. Now are you satisfied? If not, there is still time to cancel the wedding.’
This had all been explained to Pyrrhus more than once. But he had a strong native resistance to understanding what he did not want to understand. Now he looked up with a furrowed brow.
‘I suppose it’s all right. My steward says so, and he knows these things. So long as it’s quite clear that Deidameia will succeed to Phila’s position. You mustn’t marry any more Queens in the meantime, though of course you may take concubines. But you are the greatest ruler in Hellas, and Deidameia is the best- born maiden of all the Hellenes, chosen to be the bride of Alexander’s heir. So the two of you ought to be married. Now tell me more about the fighting at Rhodes.’
On the next day the lady Deidameia was escorted over the threshold of the hot little house where Demetrius was lodged. There were bridesmaids and torch-bearers, and a domestic sacrifice in the courtyard, and all the usual ceremonies. As he gave the bride away King Pyrrhus repeated a suitable bawdy joke; though he repeated it so awkwardly that he must have learned it by heart for the occasion. King Pyrrhus seldom joked. The happy pair had been married in due form, always provided that bigamy was legal in Hellas. Perhaps it was now legal, another innovation brought in since Alexander conquered the world.
When at last Demetrius could look at his bride he was surprised. He had heard for so long that Deidameia was a child that he had forgotten the passage of time; she was undoubtedly nubile, though young. And he was nearly thirty-four, which was getting on for middle age.
She was a plain little girl, with freckles and a modified form of her brother’s queer mouth. Since she had passed most of her childhood in hiding from dynastic enemies she was uneducated, and she had the lack of intellectual curiosity typical of her family. There was no subject on which she could converse easily. But she had the formal good manners, and the self-possession, of a princess reared to decorate a powerful throne. One day Pyrrhus would regain his kingdom; a man of that kind must win over his half-savage subjects. Then the husband of Deidameia might count on the friendship of Epirus, that dangerous neighbour to Macedonia. The thing to do was to get her with child as soon as possible, and not to see too much of her in the daytime. On those terms, they might live together well enough.
Curiously, his honeymoon set him to thinking again of dear Phila. She was past child-bearing, and he had never been physically in love with her. But she was a pleasant and restful companion, someone who could think his thoughts and worry over his problems; he was as safe with her as with a trusted aunt. It was time to see her again, after all these years of campaigning and roistering with concubines.
Then he returned to Corinth for his formal installation as Captain General of the League of Hellene Cities. This was a conscious imitation of the old League which had commissioned Alexander to invade Asia. In those days Hellas had been genuinely united, though now Cassander and even Ptolemy had partisans in many cities. All the same, it was a true union of all the democrats of Hellas, which included nearly every city south of Thessaly. He was really and truly the chosen leader of every Hellene who was free to vote.
His programme was very nearly the same as Alexander’s; conquer Asia, and make one state out of the civilised world. The only difference was that he would have to begin by conquering Macedonia; or rather, by driving out Cassander, who was not greatly beloved by his subjects. One or two battles would be enough to dislodge him, but he could not be ignored. No city would allow its levy to march about Asia while a hostile Macedonia lay just over the horizon.
He was disappointed in these citizen-levies, or in what he saw of them during the festivities at Corinth. The men were good material. Every free Hellene was trained to handle spear and shield, and to drill in close order; that was the main subject of secondary education. But many citizens were soft, unfitted for serious campaigning. Nowadays even democratic cities hired mercenaries for frontier guard and garrison duty in peacetime. The levies were drilled; but they had never made a long march, cooked their own food, or manned a position in the dark. They would need more training before they could look after themselves in the open field.
Worse still were the officers. They were competent spearmen, but otherwise wholly ignorant of their duties. They had been chosen because they spoke well in the Assembly, or even, after the strictest democratic code, by lot. They knew nothing of tactics, or reconnaissance, or foraging, or any of the technical subjects which the veterans of Alexander had painfully mastered. They had no eye for country, they did not know how fast their men could march, they could not lay out a camp, if they remembered to post sentries they forgot to relieve them. They could not handle troops in large numbers, for the puny levy of each city never trained with its allies.
Reluctantly Demetrius decided to pass the autumn in training his army. The invasion of Macedonia must be postponed until next year.
As he looked back on the course of the war he felt a touch of disquiet. He had landed in Attica prepared to liberate Hellas, unite it, and lead the united Hellenes against Cassander. He and his father had expected that the whole operation would take two years, or three at the most. After five years he was still not quite ready, and his father was now very old.
That autumn there was no serious fighting. Cassander levied troops and strengthened the walls of his Thessalian cities; but since he was outnumbered he stood nervously on the defensive. Rumour persisted that he had sought peace from Antigonus. But then Hellas was notorious for rumour. No public statement came either from Macedonia or Asia. Demetrius continued to plan for the great invasion.
All the same, there had been many reversals of policy in the twenty years since Alexander had died. If one general seemed about to restore the undivided Empire the others combined against him; that had been the accepted pattern. But now the Antigonus was so powerful it was just possible that another leader might join him, willing to rule as his deputy rather than to lose all. Father was not treacherous, but he took pleasure in profiting by the treachery of others. Demetrius felt himself to be out of touch, drilling his soldiers in the Peloponnese, hundreds of miles from the new Asiatic centres of power.
Phila wrote to him punctiliously onc
e a month. But she wrote about family affairs, the education of young Antigonus and the progress of little Stratonice; her letters were often accompanied by parcels of Tyrian cloth or jars of Babylonian ointment. She never mentioned politics.
But when Demetrius wrote to inquire about these rumoured negotiations she responded like a dutiful wife.
‘I seldom mention the war,’ her letter began. ‘The subject is painful to me. Of course I want victory for my husband, but I don’t want my brother to lose his kingdom. Couldn’t you fight against someone else? Why not attack Seleucus? He is the only important general who hasn’t married into my family.
‘But you ask for political news. I don’t know your father’s plans. He doesn't speak of them to me and I take care never to inquire. What I write now is known to all the court.
‘A month ago Cassander asked me to persuade your father to make peace with him. He offered what seemed to me very reasonable terms. He would acknowledge your father as King of Kings, Alexander’s successor; provided he might keep Macedonia as a tributary kingdom. There would have to be another little tributary kingdom somewhere, perhaps in Cappadocia, for my second brother Pleistarchus. As Cassander put it, the sons of Antipater can’t retire into private life as though they were nobodies.
‘I decided that I was justified in laying this letter before your father. But I did not take pains to catch him in a friendly mood, as Cassander had suggested. That would be to use family influence in a matter of state. Instead I attended the audience chamber while the king was dealing with foreign despatches, and read out my brother’s offer.
‘I am sorry to say that your father replied in a spirit of levity. These were his exact words: “So the little rat is afraid, is he? Not beaten yet, and offering to surrender! He’s not fit to be king of a mud-built Babylonian village. Have you another brother named Pleistarchus? I’ve never heard of him.” ’
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