Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Curtius Rufus

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by Quintus Curtius Rufus


  When the prisoner had made his reply, on being asked by the king whether he had learned this by hearsay or by observation, he replied that he had been a shepherd and had roamed over all those paths; that he had been twice captured, once by the Persians in Lycia, again by Alexander. The king was reminded of the prediction given by an oracle; for when he consulted it, the reply was made that a citizen of Lycia would be his guide on the road leading into Persia. Therefore, after loading the man with promises as great as the present necessity demanded and as suited his condition, he ordered him to arm himself in the Macedonian fashion, and, uttering a prayer that it might result favourably, to show him the way, however steep and difficult it might be; that he would pass through it with a few men, unless by any chance the shepherd supposed that, where he had gone to feed his flock, Alexander could not go for the sake of glory and immortal fame. Again and again the prisoner explained to him how difficult the route was, especially for armed men. Then said the king: “Take my word for it that none of those who follow will refuse to go where you will lead the way.”

  Accordingly, having left Craterus to guard the camp with the infantry which he had been accustomed to command, and with the forces led by Meleager, and with a thousand mounted bowmen, he directed him, in order that the appearance of a camp might be kept up, purposely to order more fires than usual to be made, so that the barbarians might be more inclined to believe that the king himself was in the camp. Further, if haply Ariobarzanes should have learned that he was entering through the winding paths, and should try to oppose a part of his forces to block his advance, Craterus was to hold him back by alarming him, and force him to turn the attention of his army to the nearer [16] danger; but if he himself should elude the enemy and get possession of the pass, then Craterus, following the king, when he heard the noise made by the confusion of the enemy, must not hesitate to take that same route from which they had been driven the day before; for it would be empty when the attention of the enemy had been turned to himself.

  Alexander himself in the third watch in silent march and not even having given the signal with the trumpet, went on to the route, which had been pointed out, through the paths; he had ordered the soldiers, who were lightly armed, to carry provisions for three days. But besides the pathless rocks and steep crags which from time to time made their footing insecure, snow drifted by the wind made their progress wearisome; for they were swallowed up as if they had fallen into pits, and when their comrades tried to lift them out, they dragged down instead of coming up with those who were aiding them. Night also and the unknown country, as well as the guide — since it was uncertain whether he was wholly to be trusted — increased their fear; for if he had deceived his guards, they themselves could be caught like so much wild game. The safety of their king and of themselves depended either on the trustworthiness or the life of a single prisoner.

  [20] At last they reached the summit. On the right was a road to Ariobarzanes himself; here the king left Philotas and Coenus with Amyntas and Polypercon in command of a light-armed band, advising them to advance slowly, since cavalry mixed with infantry were marching, and the soil was very rich and abounded in fodder; guides for their route were given them from among the prisoners.

  Alexander himself with his guards and a company of what they called the agema, advanced with great trouble by a path which was steep, but more remote from the pickets of the enemy. It was midday, and rest was essential for the wearied soldiers — for as much of the route was left as they had traversed, but it was less steep and difficult — therefore, when the troops had been refreshed by food and sleep, he continued his march at the second watch. And the rest he passed over without trouble; but where the summit of the mountains gradually descends to the more level ground, a great abyss, hollowed out by the rushing together of torrents, had broken into the road. Besides this, the branches of the trees, entangled one with another and clinging together, had interposed an apparently continuous hedge. In consequence, such extreme despair had fallen upon them, that they could hardly refrain — from tears. The darkness especially was a cause of terror; for even if any stars shone through the clouds, the trees, which were completely covered with leaves, prevented them from getting sight of them. Not even the use of their ears was left them, since the woods were shaken by the wind, which made a greater noise when the branches knocked against each other than was proportionate to its blast.

  At last the long awaited daylight lessened all the terrors which night had made more formidable; the flooded spot could be passed round by a slight detour, and each man had begun to be his own guide for the route. And so they made their way out to a lofty height; and when they had observed from there the enemies’ position, the armed force showed itself in vigorous fashion behind men who were in fear of nothing of the kind. A few of them, who had ventured to join battle, were slain. And so, on the one side the groans of the dying, on the other the pitiful appearance of those who were hastening back to their main body, turned to flight even those who were untouched before they made any attempt at a struggle. Then their shouting penetrated to the camp of which Craterus was in charge, and his soldiers were led out to take possession of the pass in which they had been brought to a standstill the day before. At the same time Philotas, with Amyntas, Polvpercon and Coenus, who had been ordered to take a different route, struck the barbarians with another fear.

  But even though the arms of the Macedonians thus gleamed on every side, and they were threatened with a double danger, they nevertheless fought a memorable fight. In my opinion, necessity spurs on even cowardice, and desperation is often a cause for hope. Unarmed as they were, they seized the armed men in their embrace, and dragging them down to the ground with them by the huge bulk of their bodies, stabbed most of them with their own weapons.

  However, Ariobarzanes, closely attended by about forty horsemen and five thousand foot, burst through the centre of the Macedonians’ line with much bloodshed on their own side and on their enemies’, in haste to take possession of the city of Persepolis, the capital of the region. But shut out by the garrison of the city, and vigorously pursued by the enemy, he renewed the battle and was killed with all the participants in his flight. Craterus also arrived, having driven on his force with all speed.

  V. The king fortified a camp on the same spot where he had routed the enemy. For although the flight of the foe on all sides had acknowledged the victory, yet the interposition of very deep and sheer trenches in many places had broken up the road, and it was necessary to advance slowly and cautiously, no longer through suspicion of deception by the enemy, but by the terrain. As he was on his way, a letter was delivered to him from Tiridates, who was in charge of Darius’ finances, informing him that the inhabitants of the city, on hearing of his coming, wished to pillage its treasures, and urging Alexander to hasten to take possession of the deserted riches; he said that the route was unimpeded, although the Araxes River crossed it. There is no merit of the king that I could praise with more justice than his rapidity in action. Leaving his infantry forces, and riding all night with his cavalry, wearied though they were by a march of so great extent, he reached the Araxes at daybreak. There were villages near by; these he destroyed and from their timbers supported by stones he quickly threw a bridge across.

  And already he was not far from the city, when a wretched troop, to be paralleled among few examples of ill-fortune, met the king. They were Greek captives, to the number of nearly 4000, on whom the Persians had inflicted various kinds of torture. Some with their feet, others with their hands and ears cut off, and branded with the characters of barbarian letters, they had reserved for their long-continued mockery, and when the Persians perceived that they themselves also were under foreign subjection, they had not opposed the desire of the prisoners to go to meet Alexander. They resembled strange images, not human beings, and there was nothing that could be recognized in them except their voices; therefore they aroused more tears than they themselves had shed. Indeed, amid such manifold
and varied misfortunes of individuals, to those who beheld their sufferings, similar indeed, but yet unlike, it could not be clear which was the most wretched; but when they cried out that at last Jupiter, avenger of the Greeks, had opened his eves, all who beheld them seemed to themselves to have suffered the same torture.

  The king, after having dried the tears which he had shed, bade them have a good heart, since they would see their cities and their wives, and he fortified a camp there, two stadia from the city. The Greeks had come out from the palisade to deliberate what it would be best to request of the king; and when some wished to ask for an abode in Asia, others to return to their homes, Euctemon of Cymê is said to have addressed them as follows: “We who but now were ashamed to come out from the darkness of a dungeon even to implore aid, desire, as things now stand, to display to Greece our mutilations — whether our shame or our grief is the greater is uncertain — as if they were a joyful spectacle. And yet they endure their miseries best who hide them, and no native land is so intimate to the unhappy as solitude and forgetfulness of their former condition. For those who count greatly on the compassion of their relatives are not aware how quickly tears dry. No one faithfully loves one from whom he shrinks; for while calamity is given to complaining, prosperity too is proud. So true is it that each one has regard to his own fortune when he deliberates about that of another. If it were not that we are mutually wretched, we might long since have become a cause of disgust to one another; what wonder is it that the fortunate also always seek those like themselves?

  “I beseech you, let us who have long been dead to the world seek a place in which we may bury these half-consumed bodies. Welcome forsooth shall we return to the wives whom we married in our youth! Our children in the bloom both of their age and their fortunes will of course recognize as their fathers the off-scourings of the slave-prison! And how many of us can traverse so many lands? Far from Europe, banished to the ends of the Orient, old and weak, with the greater part of our bodies battered, can we, forsooth, endure what has wearied armed men flushed with victory? What then of the wives whom chance and necessity have joined to us as our sole consolation, and their little children — do we drag them with us or leave them behind? If we come with these, no one will be willing to own us; shall we, then, at once abandon those dear ones who are with us, when it is uncertain whether we shall ever see those whom we seek? We must remain hidden among those who have begun to know us in this wretched plight.” So spoke Euctemon. Theaetetus, an Athenian, took up the discussion on the opposite side: “No good man,” he said, “will judge his kin by their bodily condition, especially when the cause of their calamity has been an enemy’s cruelty, not Nature. He deserves every misfortune who is ashamed of a misfortune due to chance; for he has a sinister opinion of humanity, and despairs of pity only because he himself would deny it to his [18] fellow man. The gods are offering them what they themselves would never have ventured to wish for: fatherland, wives, children, and whatever men either value at the price of life, or, if you would so put [19] it, redeem with death as the price. Why, then, do they not break out from this prison? At home they breathe a different air, see the light of a different sun. Their own customs, sacred rites, community of language, are desired even by barbarians, but these, your birthright, you yourselves would give up of your own accord, although you are so unhappy for no other reason than that you have been compelled to live without them. For my part, I would certainly return to my household gods and to my fatherland, and would accept so great a favour from the king; but if the love of mate and children, whom slavery has compelled you to acknowledge, should detain any of you, those at least to whom nothing is dearer than their native land should leave theirs behind.”

  A few were of this opinion; habit, which is stronger than nature, overcame the rest. They agreed that the king should be asked to assign them some dwelling-place. One hundred were selected to make the request. Alexander, having supposed that they would ask for what he himself was thinking of giving to them, said: “I have ordered mounts to be assigned, on which you can ride, and a thousand drachmae to be given to each of you. When you have returned to Greece, I will guarantee that, except for this misfortune of yours, none will believe that his condition is better than yours.” They, with tears in their eyes, kept their gaze fixed upon the ground, nor dared either to lift their faces or to speak; when at last the king asked the cause of their sadness, Euctemon answered in words similar to those which he had used in the council. And the king, pitying not only their fortune but their change of heart, ordered 3000 drachmae to be given to each man; ten robes apiece were added, and herds and flocks and also grain were given them, in order that the land assigned to them might be cultivated and sown.

  VI. On the following day the king called together the leaders of his forces and informed them that “no city was more mischievous to the Greeks than the seat of the ancient kings of Persia; it was from there that those huge armies had been poured into their country, from there first Darius, then Xerxes, had made godless war upon Europe; by its destruction they ought to offer sacrifice to the spirits of their forefathers.” And already the barbarians, having abandoned the city, had scattered in flight whithersoever fear had driven each man, when the king without delay led in the phalanx. He had either stormed or received in surrender many cities filled with regal opulence, but the riches of this city surpassed all that had gone before. Into it the barbarians had heaped the wealth of all Persia; gold and silver had been amassed, a vast amount of clothing, furniture designed not for use but for luxurious display. Hence the victors themselves fought with one another with the steel; he was regarded as a foeman who had been first to seize a more precious prize. And when they could not carry all that they found, articles were no longer seized at random, but their value was appraised. They rent the royal robes, as each one dragged a part into his possession, they broke with mattocks vases of priceless art, nothing was left uninjured or carried off whole, each one carried the broken limbs of statues as he had torn them off.

  And not avarice alone but cruelty also ran riot in the captured city; those who were loaded with gold and silver butchered as valueless the persons of prisoners; and in all directions people, whom previously their ransom had made it worth while to spare, were cut down when they came in the enemy’s way. Therefore many forestalled the hands of the enemy by a voluntary death, putting on their most costly clothing and throwing themselves from the walls, along with their wives and children. Some set fire to their houses, which it seemed that the enemy would do a little later, in order to be burned alive with their families. At last the king ordered his men to spare the persons and the ornaments of the women.

  So vast amount of wealth is said to have been taken as almost to be beyond belief. But we shall either have to feel doubtful about other particulars also, or believe that there was in this city a treasure of 120,000 talents. For transporting this — for the king had decided to take it with him for use in war — he ordered camels and other beasts of burden to be brought together from Susa and Babylon. There were added to this sum of money 6000 talents from the capture of Parsagada. Cyrus had founded that city, which its governor Gobares surrendered to Alexander.

  The king ordered Nicarchides to defend the citadel of Persepolis, having left as a garrison 3000 Macedonian soldiers. For Tiridates, who had handed over the treasure, the same rank was continued which he had held under Darius. Also a great part of the army and the baggage was left there, in charge of Parmenion and Craterus. Alexander himself with 1000 horsemen and a light-armed force of infantry made for the interior of Persia just at the setting of the Vergiliae, and although troubled by frequent rains and almost intolerable weather, he nevertheless persisted in pushing on to his destination. He had come to a road blocked by perpetual snows, which the violence of the cold had bound with frost, and the horror of the places and the pathless solitudes terrified the wearied soldiers, who believed that they were looking upon the end of the habitable world. In amazement they b
eheld everything desolate and without any trace of human cultivation, and they demanded that they should turn back, before even daylight and the sky should fail them.

  The king forbore to rebuke his frightened men, but he himself sprang down from his horse, and on foot began to advance through the snows and over the hard-frozen ice. Ashamed not to follow were at first his friends, then his officers, finally the soldiers. And the king was first to make a way for himself by breaking the ice with a mattock; the rest followed the king’s example. At last, after passing through almost pathless forests, they found sporadic traces of human cultivation, and flocks of sheep wandering here and there; and the inhabitants, who dwelt in isolated huts, since they believed that they were protected by the inaccessible by-paths, as soon as they caught sight of the soldiers, killed those who were not able to accompany them in their flight and made for the remote and snow-clad mountains. Then, through conversation with the prisoners they gradually became less wild, and delivered themselves up to the king. And the surrendered were not severely dealt with.

  Then, after devastating the fields of Persia and reducing many villages into his power, he came to the race of the Mardi, a warlike people, differing greatly from the rest of the Persians in their manner of life. They dig caves in the mountains, in which they hide themselves with their wives and children, they feed on the flesh of their flocks and of wild animals. Not even the women have gentler dispositions, as is Nature’s way; they have overhanging bushy hair, their garments do not reach their knees, they bind their brows with a sling; this is both an ornament of their heads and a weapon. But this race also the same onrush of Fortune overcame. And so, on the thirtieth day after he had set out from Persepolis the king returned to the same place. Then he gave presents to his friends and to the rest according to each man’s deserts. Almost everything which he had taken in that place was distributed among them.

 

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