Elephants and Castles

by Alfred Duggan

  Demetrius was bored with these endless disputes, and with Stratocles. But the demagogue insisted on riding with him to the forward positions. He wanted to show the world that he was the leader of an allied contingent, not a hanger-on waiting to be installed by foreign swords.

  The Athenian democrats had handed over Piraeus, an invaluable base. But in the actual work of the siege they were more trouble than they were worth. In skirmishes they faced death bravely; though they would not give quarter, and tried to deny burial to their dead enemies. But for the tedious watching which is nine-tenths of a blockade they were not to be trusted. At night their sentries went to sleep, in the daytime they left their posts to indulge in political discussion with their comrades. These savage partisans in a relentless civil war were less use to a careful commander than well-drilled mercenaries who could be counted on to do what they were paid to do and not an inch more.

  Deep in thought about the difficulties of this alliance, Demetrius mechanically shortened his reins to move on and inspect the next post. Then he was aware of the young subaltern, pulling frantically at his foot to engage his wandering attention. '

  ‘My lord god, they have opened the gate.’

  He stared once again at the waste land by the wall. Nothing moved over the unploughed ground, foul with the weeds of an unharvested year; the road stretched before him, grass-grown, unmarked by footprints; the charred stumps of fruit trees showed as blots on the green. Nothing had changed - save for a shadowed hole where the gate-timbers should be.

  ‘Stand to,’ he called. ‘This may be a sally. No, it isn’t. Even a city-levy wouldn’t be so slow off the mark. There’s no sentry on the gate, either. What are they after?’

  ‘They have given in, Saviour God,’ said Stratocles in high excitement. ‘At last we have beaten them. They invite us to enter the city.’

  ‘A sloppy way to do it,’ snorted Demetrius. ‘I thought oligarchs had better manners. They ought to send envoys to seek terms. Even if they want to surrender at discretion they should send a herald to say so. They haven’t asked us to enter. I’d be within my rights if I kept our men here, and made them go on starving.’

  He turned to the young officer. ‘This may be a trap, but we can’t ignore it. Take your men up to the wall. Retire at once if they throw anything at you, sling-stones or arrows. If no one shows fight halt your men just this side of the gate, as near the city as you can get without actually entering it. Oh, and fetch a boulder - you’ll find plenty in the bed of the Ilissus. Put it bang in the middle of the gateway, so they can’t close the gate suddenly. Then stay until spearmen come to relieve you. It’s not a job for light infantry, but we can’t waste time.’

  He galloped swiftly back to headquarters, Stratocles bouncing beside him.

  ‘I shall assume they have surrendered to me, the Besieger of Cities,’ he told the demagogue. ‘Your partisans must keep out of it, or the streets will run with blood. I shall take over the gateway at once, but the full occupation must wait until tomorrow. No killing, and my men make all the arrests. By noon tomorrow there will be food in the place, enough for all. Then you and I can discuss what comes next.’

  ‘You must give me a part to play, Saviour God, if I am to rule Athens for you. No one will obey me if I creep in with your baggage train.’

  ‘Right. I shall give you a responsible part. You are a brave man, I know. This evening you will enter Athens, alone, bearing a herald’s staff. Tell the citizens to assemble in the theatre at midnight tomorrow. There I shall address them, and lay down the lines of their future government.'

  That evening, scraping himself in the bath, Demetrius went over his plans for the future. The history of eleven years ago had repeated itself. He had won Athens. Now he must unite all Hellas under his sway. Next he would take over Macedonia, and with all the might of Europe march east to restore the Empire of Alexander. A lot of time had been wasted. He was forty-one years of age. But some conditions were more favourable than when he began empire-building at the age of twenty-nine.

  To start with, Macedonia was masterless. Three years ago Cassander’s eldest son Philip had succeeded his father; now Philip was dead also, and the throne occupied jointly by his two younger brothers, Antipater and Alexander. They were minors, and they hated one another. Neither would have a genuine personal following, even though the Macedonians felt a sentimental loyalty to the last descendants of their ancient royal house, the children of Thessalonice the daughter of old King Philip. The absorption of Macedonia would not be too difficult

  Ptolemy was building another fleet: that must be watched. But it was not equal to the mighty navy of Demetrius the Sea-King. That had been proved last autumn, when the Egyptians tried to re-victual Athens and withdrew rather than face battle. Ptolemy was a nuisance, with patience enough to begin again after defeat. But another disaster like Salamis would finish him. He was too old to begin again right from the beginning.

  Lysimachus ruled from Thrace to Cappadocia. But since his navy was not strong enough to hold the Propontis his realm might be cut in two, and anyway at present he was campaigning on the Danube.

  Seleucus had taken over the late dominions of Pleistarchus in Asia; and he had all those elephants. But he was an ally and a son-in-law.

  Of late years Pyrrhus had become important. While in Alexandria as a refugee he had become Ptolemy’s client; Egyptian money had put him back on the throne of Epirus. Now that he had an army of his own he would want to fight someone, and gratitude would make him fight to help Ptolemy. Masterless Macedonia was his obvious field of expansion.

  But there was nothing to worry about. Demetrius held Corinth, and now Athens; when he had subdued the Peloponnese he would again become Captain General of Hellas. Yet at the back of his mind something worried him; he pulled it out into full consciousness to examine it. Oh yes, Seleucus had suggested that as a mark of trust between old friends he might be allowed to garrison Tyre and Sidon. They lay uncomfortably close to his new capital on the Orontes. But to Demetrius they were precious as the homes of his best sea-captains. He had refused, briefly. Rumour said that Seleucus had been offended by the curt reply.

  Athens was in a frightful state. Towards the end of the long blockade citizens had eaten rats and mice, and fought one another for them. The houses were decayed, and the streets full of rubbish. But there was no smell of corruption, for anything remotely edible had been carefully sifted from the litter. As Demetrius rode to the theatre the city, seemed deserted; all the citizens awaited him, and their women and slaves had been shut up in fear of a sack.

  There would be no sack of Athens. It would do more harm than good, for though it might frighten waverers into submission it would shock more Hellenes than it would frighten. In these days great cities were sacred; not one had been destroyed since Alexander himself sacked Thebes. Besides, Demetrius himself would feel shocked. He was the Saviour God, the Liberator. He would not harm a cultivated city, even though it had been held against him by obstinate oligarchs. To guard against even casual riot most of the troops had been left outside the walls; only a few hundred spearmen accompanied him to the theatre.

  But though no harm would come to these rebellious oligarchs they deserved a fright; and they would get it. In the theatre they packed the stone benches, hungry and uneasy, sweating in the hot sun. It would do them no harm to wait a little longer. Arriving at the theatre, Demetrius took his time.

  He waited behind the scene while his guards marched round outside the building to bar every exit. The spearmen had been instructed to show themselves at the head of the gangways; the citizens within could be massacred without a chance of escape, and they would know it. Demetrius rested on a folding chair while a servant removed the dust of the unswept streets from his armour of parade.

  At last he was ready. It was midday, and the guarded citizens would be thirsty as well as hungry. The scarlet commander’s cloak which hung from his shoulders was too long for genuine warfare; but it would look imposing as he sp
oke from the stage. He pushed out his chest and pulled in his stomach; with a set frown on his face he strode through the central doorway of the scene, the door reserved for the chief actor in a tragedy.

  His audience stank. The Athenians had been short of water and of fuller’s-earth, as they had been short of everything during the long blockade. The faces turned towards him were grey and ugly; some looked abject in their humility, but far too many still glared with hostile defiance. These were a nasty people - fickle, savage, and unmilitary. They hated him, and it was only just that he should hate them in return. How they would squeal if he ordered his soldiers to spear the lot!

  Of course he couldn’t do that. He was a Macedonian, not a barbarian. And Athens was Athens - the home of the arts, the mother of philosophy. He wondered whether any of the famous philosophers were there in the audience. Probably not. They were foreigners, not citizens. But they had come to Athens because there people would listen to them. Athens must be spared.

  He reminded the Athenians that they had been ungrateful; but he said it with a smile, and his hearers smiled back. By the end of his brief speech they were wild with relief and thankfulness, racking their brains to find a way of showing their love for their Saviour God. A man at the back of the crowd proposed that Piraeus and Munychia should both be handed over to King Demetrius, as a sign that he was once more the protector of the Athenian people. The proposal was carried unanimously, without a formal counting of votes.

  Soon afterwards they all streamed out of the theatre. Demetrius at once posted substantial garrisons in the two ports, and another on Museum Hill; that had not been mentioned in the vote of thanks, but he might as well make sure of controlling the whole city. Nobody minded. As the citizens went home they found the streets crowded with mules carrying grain, the free gift of their Saviour God.

  One morning a month later Demetrius was examining the ground where his army had just been engaged in a brief skirmish. To a veteran of Ipsus it was an unimportant skirmish. The outnumbered enemy had retreated after losing 500 dead and 500 prisoners. Such a light casualty list hardly warranted the usual trophy.

  Yet this skirmish might find a niche in the histories; for the 200 dead, and the 500 prisoners, were Spartans. The dead looked as they should: tall, long-haired men, lying on their backs to display gaping wounds in front. The prisoners were a different matter; they huddled round little fires, grimly in the grey under-tunics which their captors had left them when they were stripped of their armour. Beaten men always look miserable and degraded; but these were Spartan captives. Not since Sphacteria had anyone seen the like.

  Stratocles, beside his lord, inspected everything with the eagerness of a dog in a strange larder. ‘So that’s what a Spartan looks like after he has been killed,’ he exclaimed. ‘Well, I was brought up to believe that the only good Spartan is a dead Spartan. Mortal foes pf Athens, mortal foes of democracy. I’ve never before seen a dead Spartan, though they used to be a common sight. One can’t forget that long ago the Persians saw them lying in rank at Thermopylae. Some of them, sometimes, have been good Hellenes. It’s the prisoners who are really extraordinary. I’m growing old, and the world changes too quickly for me to keep up with it. Athens obeys a living god, Hellenes rule in Bactria - and Spartans surrender by the hundred! You have done something new, Saviour God.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Demetrius. ‘Spartan prisoners! More Spartans than fell at Thermopylae! How many did Cleon take at Sphacteria? You should know, as a patriotic Athenian. That was long ago - Nowadays no one behaves as he should. Athenians fight to the last ditch for oligarchy against democracy, Spartans surrender in the field. How can a prudent statesman make plans while people change so?’

  ‘Perhaps we ought not to say that those misguided Athenians fought for oligarchy,’ said Stratocles, defending his fellow-citizens. ‘They claim now that they were fighting for independence, to free their city from Macedonian rule. They call themselves patriots, not oligarchs. That may annoy you, Saviour God, but it’s even more annoying that I am known as the follower of Demetrius, not as the leader of the democrats.’

  ‘Athenians will say anything. Don’t let them vex you. I can’t be angry with them, because they resisted me so bravely. But it proves all the more what I was saying, that since Alexander died all things are in a flux. Anyone may do anything. Tomorrow, for example, something very strange is going to happen. The city of Sparta is not far off. You can’t see it from here because of a bend in the river. Tomorrow we shall be there, and there is no army to defend it.’

  ‘Ha, Sparta the unwalled - unwalled because it is “defended by men, not by stones’’.’ Stratocles grinned with delight and anticipation. ‘This is to make history indeed. How long have the Dorians been in Lacedaemon? Getting on for seven hundred years. In all that time no enemy has reached Sparta, and tomorrow we shall capture it. I wish all the Athenians were here to see this destruction of Spartan pride.’

  ‘It’s a great achievement, but in a way I am sorry. It’s sad when an old landmark vanishes. After a Macedonian has marched unopposed into Sparta there will be very little left of the old Hellas. Perhaps Alexander was right with his Marriage of East and West. Perhaps after all Hellenes are no better than barbarians.’

  While his bath was being prepared Demetrius sat alone in his tent and meditated on the mutability of human affairs. Thirteen years ago he had known exactly what to do. He would liberate all Hellas, and lead the free and grateful Hellenes to another conquest of the Empire. He would reign over all the dominions of Alexander, and at the same time he would be doing good; for democracy was undoubtedly the best form of government for a Hellenic city.

  Then he had seen at close quarters the government of Stratocles, so that he no longer believed in the virtues of democracy. At Ipsus elephants had beaten men; humanity was not necessarily the lord of creation. His father’s phalanx had changed sides on the battlefield, though their leader was braver than Achilles. Seleucus and Ptolemy switched alliances and betrayed their allies like weathervanes. Now the Spartans, who had kept out of the unseemly scramble which had raged since the death of Alexander, fled from their enemies or shamefully threw down their shields when they were beaten. There was no one he could rely on, nothing to fight for.

  Something was still worth fighting for: his own good name. He was Demetrius the Saviour God, the Sea-King, Besieger of Cities. When Alexander marched to India he had been a child, but today he was a better man than any of Alexander’s surviving companions. There might be no honour or honesty left in the world; but it would be a better place when it was ruled by its best general, at the head of its best army.

  Tomorrow Sparta would be just another collection of houses, a shopping centre like Megara or Corinth. A legend would have gone from the world. But if the Spartans were degenerate that was not his fault. If he spared it some other general, some other band of mercenaries, would sack it.

  Here came another messenger. Why did they always arrive while he was waiting for his bath? From the clatter of hoofs the man was in a hurry. Hallo, the outer guard had not stopped him. He must be someone of high rank; the message he carried would be important. Reluctantly Demetrius draped a cloak round him and went into the public room of his tent.

  ‘Sosigenes the King’s Friend,’ announced the guard commander as he entered. ‘His business is urgent. Will you receive him now, my lord god?’

  ‘Bring him in and leave us alone. See that no one strays where he may overhear us,’

  Sosigenes was an old companion of his childhood, the son of one of his father’s trusted commanders. They had played together while Alexander conquered India. But thought Sosigenes was as brave as any other Macedonian, he had no military talent. In later life he was given various ornamental appointments, and the very high personal rank of King’s Friend; but not a command of troops. He knew all that went on, but no one heeded his advice.

  ‘I bring bad news, very bad news indeed,’ he said straight away as he pushed back the tent-flap.
He looked anxiously at his lord’s face, to see whether it was safe to continue. But on campaign Demetrius never drank to excess, and he had just been meditating on his own greatness of spirit. With a grave smile he answered, ‘Sit down. Have a drink. Tell me all the bad news.’

  Sosigenes had endured the full training of a staff officer. First he must explain how the bad news had reached him.

  ‘I am attached to naval headquarters in Piraeus. About fifteen days ago we noticed something odd; no ships coming from Asia. Of course we didn’t expect many; it’s late in the season. We guessed that perhaps Ptolemy’s fleet might be cruising in these parts, which would frighten off peaceful traders. Then at dawn yesterday a ship came in, a fast despatch boat. She had sailed coastwise from Tyre. Her latest despatches were dated from Ephesus. Thence she had sailed direct to Piraeus, without touching at any of the islands. Her despatches, addressed to you, were obviously most urgent; so the admiral took the responsibility of opening them. There was a huge canvas wallet, with message from nearly every city in Asia; much too heavy for me to bring on horseback. So the admiral and I made a precis. Here it is. I should add that the crew of the despatch boat are held under close arrest, and that no one else at headquarters knows the news they carried. In Attica nothing is known of the disasters; though of course they will become public property as more ships arrive.’

  He handed over a sealed pair of tablets. When Demetrius had cut the thread he saw they were covered with a small, close writing.

  ‘Despatch boat Heron arrived this morning, twenty days out from Tyre. She came to report the arrival of the Syrian army on the adjacent mainland. Tyre has been summoned to surrender. The summons was answered with defiance. The governor is confident that he can hold Tyre, without relief, for at least a year.

  ‘Proceeding north Heron learned more of the activities of King Seleucus. Detachments of the Syrian army have summoned every port held by our garrisons. Many governors surrendered at the first summons. In other places the citizens rose in arms and compelled the garrisons to treat. It is supposed that Syrian agents had bribed either the governors or the citizens.