When the grass began to grow Demetrius took the field. It was barely a year and a half since he had fled to Cassandreia; now he led a strong army, backed by a solvent treasury. The Queen and her mother remained in the safety of Miletus. Ptolemais seemed a devoted wife, but on this strenuous campaign there would be no place for highborn ladies.
At Ipsus Lysimachus had shown competence as a soldier; but that was nearly fifteen years ago, and he must be getting old for active service. The unexpected factor, which nobody could have foreseen, was that Lysimachus’s son and heir happened to be an outstanding general. Young Agathocles, conducting his first independent campaign, was a difficult man to beat.
Of course Demetrius beat him whenever the armies clashed. In his fiftieth year he was at the peak of his powers. His eyesight and memory were as good as ever, and he still marched and endured the weather like a young athlete. After twenty-five years of independent command he could judge ground, guess what was happening over the hill, and weigh the capacities of any body of troops far better than a young officer. But he could not force Agathocles to fight a decisive battle, and he could not bear up indefinitely against greatly superior numbers.
Skirmishes, ambuscades, pounces on imprudent advance-guards kept the soldiers of Demetrius in good heart. But Agathocles continually camped opposite him with force enough to contain his whole army, while other columns operated on his flanks. If he were not to be surrounded Demetrius must give ground.
The cities of Ionia began to suspect that they had chosen the wrong side. These cities were strong fortresses, which brought in a valuable revenue; in the old days their citizens had held them against the Great King, or fought stubbornly against other cities. But citizens of the present generation would not defend their walls, or meddle in a war between Macedonian kings. Fighting had become a skilled trade in which merchants and craftsmen did not interfere. Demetrius watched these cities go over to Agathocles without moving a finger to keep them. A garrison in Ephesus could hold out for a year, perhaps two; but then the soldiers must surrender to Agathocles, since Demetrius was not strong enough to relieve them. To hold these great fortresses would be a waste of trained and faithful men.
By midsummer Demetrius had retreated so far that he was barely in touch with Miletus. He must bring his bride into camp, or leave her to fall into the hands of the enemy. Though Ptolemais wrote to say she was pregnant, Demetrius left her in Miletus. The episode was closed. The son of Ptolemais would have to make his own career. ,
The outlines of an unpleasant future were already showing through the ceremonious state kept up at the headquarters of a royal and deified commander-in-chief. Money was short, and what came in must be set aside to pay the mercenaries. The army, without a base or a line of supply, was being pushed back from the civilised Hellene coast into wild uplands which even the Persians had scarcely bothered to administer.
The only encouraging feature of the war was the news that young Antigonus was holding his own in Hellas. With impregnable Acrocorinth as a base and refuge he had repulsed the half-hearted efforts of Pyrrhus and Lysimachus to drive him into the sea. And of course somewhere in the Aegean was the fleet, the great fleet of the Sea-King which even Ptolemy feared to encounter. But with so many mountains and armies in between, Demetrius heard nothing of its progress.
He was suffering from loneliness. He had no old friends with him, no senior officers whom he liked. His subordinates were mostly captains appointed by Lysimachus, who had brought over their troops when it seemed that a new power was arising in Asia. They could not change sides again, for Lysimachus would hang them; but Demetrius did not care for the company of deserters.
He knew by sight a few old pikemen who had served him for many years. But a king cannot easily make friends with common soldiers. He was good at handling the rank and file; on parade he could deal with anonymous queries from the rear rank and turn the laugh against the insolent trouble-maker.
Of course he could deliver a rousing speech before battle; that skill was essential to every Hellene commander. Yet he could not invite a pikeman of the phalanx to dine in his tent without annoying his officers and perhaps impairing discipline.
Then he met a pikeman who was almost an old friend of the family, a retainer with whom he might chat in private and give no offence to touchy captains. His cavalry captured a small patrol of the enemy as they plundered a village. The men were brought before him and offered the usual alternatives of enlisting in his army or being set to hard labour as prisoners of war. One skinny old man spoke up before he was spoken to, sure of his welcome.
‘I’m glad we meet again after all these years, my lord king. I have always been meaning to claim a reward from you, but somehow we never seemed to be in the same continent at the same time.’
‘You served under my father at Ipsus, I suppose? So did a good many other people. I’ve never heard of a broken phalanx that had so many survivors. If you choose to enlist I shall be glad of your help, but the men who earned rewards at Ipsus were buried on the field.’
‘Not quite all of them, my lord,’ said the prisoner with a grin. ‘I am Thorax of Larissa. Perhaps you would care to hear my memories of King Antigonus.’
‘From Larissa? At first I didn’t believe you, for no Macedonian would wait fifteen years before claiming a reward. It’s just possible a Thessalian might.’ He was trying to recall what he had been told of a man of that name. Suddenly it came back to him.
‘You are the pikeman who stayed to guard my father’s corpse after the phalanx broke? It’s unfortunate you didn’t claim your reward when I was richer, but this brooch will at least remind you of my gratitude. My father was honourably buried, but Seleucus would not have found the right body if you had not saved it from harm. Here and now you are mustered into my phalanx, with the double pay of a file-leader. In addition, I command you to dine with me tonight. That’s an order.’
He unpinned the brooch from his purple commander’s cloak. The wide golden border was Scythian work from beyond the Euxine, but the centre was a sardonyx cameo bearing the head of the deified Alexander. The design was barbaric but Demetrius was not the only Hellene who found it beautiful.
In the evening the two of them dined together. There were no other guests, and the servants left them alone. Thorax behaved very well. He wore the faded uniform tunic which was the only garment he possessed, for of course he had been robbed when he yielded himself a prisoner; but the tunic had been brushed and he had borrowed clean slippers. As a common soldier he was decently humble, but at the same time he took pride in his honourable record. He did not boast as he told in a few words the story of his life since Ipsus.
‘I don’t hold with mercenaries who desert their paymasters. King Antigonus was my paymaster, and I stood by him so long as he needed a soldier. But after he had been buried I considered myself unemployed, so I joined the army of King Lysimachus. Ever since I have been in one of his Asiatic garrisons. I wasn’t straggling when you caught me. We had been ordered to plunder that village. I was made prisoner while obeying orders, and according to the rules of war that gives me the right to change sides. So I have joined your phalanx, King Demetrius, and I shall fight for you so long as you pay me.’
‘The trouble is,’ said Demetrius, ‘that I may not be able to pay you much longer. The time will come when I must ask you to fight on credit. But if you and the others trust me, you won’t lose by it. This war will continue until I am king of the civilised world, as I know I can be if I try hard enough. Already one man has conquered the civilised world, and one man can do it again. But it takes time. I have been at it for the last twenty-five years. I very nearly got there, and then after Ipsus I had to begin again at the beginning. Just at present things look black for me, but I have a plan. I want your help with it, Thorax. You know how mercenaries feel. I want you to tell me, honestly, when I am asking too much from them. Will you do that?’
‘Why not? Poliorcetes won’t punish me for telling unwelcome truths. I d
on’t want to be a captain. I hate responsibility. But I should like to be confidential adviser to the commander- in-chief. Influence without rank, every soldier likes it. I know mercenaries, and I know how much they will stand. What’s your plan?’ He spoke bluntly, as though he had taken part in many councils of war.
‘For a time I must keep out of the way, and at the same time hang on to my army. I am a good general, but I have been unlucky to meet exceptionally good generals. Pyrrhus and Agathocles have been too much for me. But they won’t last; probably they will fight one another. So I intend to march through Cappadocia into Armenia, to some valley which never obeyed Alexander. There I will bide my time until my rivals are out of the way.’
‘The soldiers won’t like it,’ said Thorax at once. ‘Some of them want a gay life, others hope to win fame on the field. To hide in a barbarous Armenian valley will displease both parties. No baths, no taverns, no boys or girls who speak our language; on the other hand, no glory. We shall live like peasants, just the kind of life many of them left home to avoid.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that, though now you tell me I see it’s true. I fight for power. Why do common soldiers fight? Why does a man leave home to serve some stranger as a mercenary? Surely not because he likes to be ruled by military discipline?’
‘It’s bad manners to ask a comrade why he left home, or even where his home was before he came soldiering. The answer may make you whistle, and you’ve got to live with the man after you know his murky past. But I’ve been at this game for twenty years and more, and I have a fair idea of what makes a man a soldier. In my case, oddly enough, it was personal dignity. My family used to be among the leading citizens of Larissa. But since old King Philip marched into Hellas there have been no true citizens in Larissa, only cringing subjects of some king. I was ashamed to spend my life jumping out of the way of any man who carried a pike. I wanted to carry a pike myself, and watch fat citizens scuttle before me. A soldier may be flogged, or set to doing slave’s work while his comrades are drinking. It’s all in the game, and when you enlist you know it’s coming. But you can’t feel free unless you bear arms and are ready to use them. I’ve done my share of camp fatigues, but when the pike-heads are levelled and we raise the paean I know I am there by my own choice, risking my life because I want to. I could have robbed your father’s corpse. I didn’t, because I chose not to. I could return to Agathocles tomorrow, and draw regular pay in some comfortable city of Ionia. I won’t because I am free and I choose to live differently.’
‘While the citizens of Miletus, even the citizens of Athens, have no choice in the matter? I see. It’s odd that so many peaceful citizens despise the calling of a mercenary. Are you all devotees of individual liberty?’
‘You may have your joke, my lord, but many are. Oh, there are plain scoundrels, and idle fools who want to be told when to eat and when to sleep. But they don’t last twenty years as I have. You get into a tight place and the scoundrels are killed because they try to run away, and the fools are killed because they can’t look after themselves. But the real soldiers like me came through, because they carry sharp swords and keep in line, because they have slept when they had the chance and eaten their rations instead of selling them for wine. You have a very good type of man in your army now.’
‘But they won’t follow me to the wilds of Armenia?’
‘They will, my lord, if you pay them punctually. They won’t enjoy it, but they stand by their bargains. But as I understand it you can’t pay us much longer. You want us to fight on credit, as you put it. Well, we’ll do that, within reason. But not in Armenia, or in any other barbarous desert where there’s no plunder worth taking.’
‘I must explain how I am placed. I can’t stay here, because we are not strong enough to fight Agathocles. I can’t move south or west, for the same reason. I would like to go north, but you say the army won’t follow me. That leaves the east, the rich, civilised lands of Cilicia and Syria. But that is the realm of King Seleucus, my friend who is married to my daughter - or his son is, I’m not sure which. So far he has not attacked me, and if I begin to get the better of Lysimachus he will come in as my ally. But if I invade his land I shall have foes on all sides.’
‘If he is your friend couldn’t you march there peaceably? This is a small army, and we won’t do much harm if you tell us not to. King Seleucus can feed us for one winter and we can pay him back after we have won a battle. We shan’t sack his cities or plunder his peasants.’
‘If Armenia is out the question that is what I must do. I shall write to King Seleucus, and the next time we are forced to retreat I shall move slowly in that direction.’
Letters to King Seleucus brought prompt, polite replies; but the replies lacked definite meaning. The Great King was at peace with all his neighbours, and did not wish to make war on anyone. Of course he would be delighted to welcome his ally whenever Demetrius should choose to visit him. But would it not make for peace, which all honest men must desire, if Demetrius were to dismiss his soldiers before crossing into Syria?
Demetrius replied briefly that he for one did not desire peace. He was at war with the rogue Lysimachus, who gave shelter to a notorious matricide. He must bring his army with him, though he would do nothing to harm the subjects of his friend King Seleucus.
The answer to this came as fast as a good horse could bring it. Again there was nothing that could be understood as a plain Yes or No. Demetrius went through the despatch carefully, sitting in his tent with Thorax. The old soldier often passed the evening with him, for both were lonely men.
‘As far as I can make out he doesn’t want to fight us, though he fears we shall plunder Syria. He doesn’t mind so much if we stay in Cilicia because, though he has a garrison in Tarsus, Lysimachus claims the country. So Lysimachus can’t accuse him of harbouring his enemy without admitting that Cilicia belongs to Seleucus. Oh, and he offers to supply us with corn, provided we pay cash.’
‘That means war, my lord. He must see that if we could buy food we need not cross his frontier. Syrian merchants could bring it here for sale.’
‘If he means war he would say so, surely? Perhaps he genuinely wants to do me a good turn. That must be it. We got on very well when we met, years ago. He wants to do me a good turn, but he doesn’t want to anger Agathocles. He is hinting that I may help myself, though he can’t give me permission beforehand. That’s how I shall take it, anyway. We shall march to Tarsus, as peacefully as they will let us. There will be no foraging and no fighting; unless Seleucus bars the way, and then we charge straight through his army. We shall winter in Tarsus: good lodgings, gay taverns, the men will enjoy it. Still no foraging, no individual plunder. The city council provides our pay. That’s plunder all the same, since it’s not my city. But it looks like regular taxation. It gives Seleucus a chance to look the other way if he doesn’t want to make war on us.’
On the march to Tarsus provisions ran out. Some soldiers deserted and a few died of hunger.
17. MOUNTAINS AND ELEPHANTS
The garrison withdrew from Tarsus as Demetrius approached, and the citizens gave no trouble. The town council provided billets and rations, rather than see their city burned about their ears. Demetrius could not pay his soldiers in silver; but they had food and lodging for the winter, and they were not far from Hellas. They remained faithful because they liked him and were confident that one day he would pay them, and also because in foreign Cilicia they feared to wander about in search of a solvent employer. He had surmounted one difficult obstacle; when the war began again in the spring he would still be at the head of an army.
Other developments were not so encouraging. Agathocles had followed him eastward as far as the Cilician border; but he had been careful not to cross it, for fear of a quarrel with Seleucus, He had fortified the passes of Taurus so that Demetrius could not get back, to Cappadocia without desperate fighting. King Seleucus in his turn had fortified the passes into Syria; but for the moment he seemed to have abandon
ed Cilicia and he still sent friendly though non-committal messages. Demetrius was cornered in Tarsus, ringed round by mountains held in strength by open enemies or doubtful neutrals.
The sea lay open before him, but he could not get in touch with his fleet. Unpaid Tyrian shipmasters flew his flag, and might probably fight his enemies if the odds were reasonable; but they had dispersed to plunder the coasts of the Aegean, and his orders to concentrate at Tarsus did not reach them.
Strangely enough, Demetrius personally was more famous than he had ever been. The homeless penniless king who had fought his way with an army of unpaid mercenaries from Macedonia to Cilicia had become one of the wonders of Hellas. But the visitors who thronged his court that winter were not adherents; they came in the same spirit as tourists went to Rhodes to see the great statue of Apollo, so that they might tell their children in after times that they had met the mighty Poliorcetes. They would bring some not very expensive gift, dine at his table, and go away without a mention of politics.
Visitors came even from Antioch; but they brought no credentials, no messages from their lord. They came openly, so Seleucus must have given them permission; probably they would report all they had seen. Since Demetrius and Seleucus were not at war these observers must be allowed to pass freely. It was hard to get out of the sulky town council of Tarsus wine and food good enough for royal feasts.
One visitor Demetrius was delighted to welcome. Sosigenes wore the insignia of a Friend of King Seleucus, but he took up again his old position of Friend of King Demetrius as though he had never left him. Middle age had toned down the frivolity which had been his greatest charm; but he was brave and honest and frank, a pleasant reminder of the glorious past.
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