Parmenio’s face wore a smug smile as he nodded to Alexander. “What is our next move?” he asked.
“I’ve sent scouts downriver to find a better crossing point. I played into the Persians superior position and the strength of our force was dissipated. We need flat land for our cavalry charge after the crossing. I will find it.”
“Tomorrow will be different. Don’t doubt my leadership. That would be fatal. I know your attitude about me. You think it’s just a matter of time before I kill myself in a hotheaded charge like today. I always learn from mistakes and come back stronger. Just because you and your friends command most of our units, don’t let that go to your head. I’m still the king. Do you understand that?” Alexander asked with a vicious look on his face.
Parmenio wasn’t intimidated by the king’s outburst. He had seen many more terrifying situations in his life than this irate lad who was more than forty years his junior. “Learn to think before you act, Alexander,” he shot back. “You have a good mind, but your spirit needs seasoning.”
Alexander was furious with his father’s old friend and nearly went for his sword. Quickly, however, he calmed himself. “I’m not a vegetable, Parmenio, and I don’t need seasoning. My seasoning occurred this afternoon. My spirit is in Zeus-Ammon’s hands. Follow my commands and we will prevail. Leave now; issue immediate commands that groups of one hundred are to begin leaving camp quietly. By morning, you may change your mind about me.”
≈
Alone in his command tent that night, Alexander knew that Parmenio was right. A complete victory tomorrow was essential to his kingship. He knelt before his sleeping cot and prayed to his spiritual father that he would guide him tomorrow. When the prayer was finished, he left to join his scouts. By the middle of the night, he had helped them find an ideal Granicus ford. Things would be different tomorrow.
≈
Dawn painted the eastern sky and Alexander began moving thousands of men across the River Granicus. A flat plain, better suited to his forces, awaited them. With the river on his right and low foothills on his left, it was exactly what his fighters needed. He made a mental note to reward his scouts.
Alexander had changed his uniform during the night. Even in the low light of early dawn, he was resplendent. Armor that he had taken from Athena’s temple in Troy covered his body. On his head, he wore a magnificent, winged helmet. It had two white plumes shooting upward from its polished, rounded surface. He knew that the Persians would spot him easily.
“Their scouts have spotted us,” the king yelled at his commanders. “Form your battle lines. Perdiccas, get those phalanx units in a defensive perimeter around the riverbank. I want all of our forces across the river now! We’ve nearly surprised them; their advantage is lost.”
If Zeus-Ammon had a military mind, he would have liked what Alexander and his army did that dawn morning. On the broad plain east of the Granicus stretched the Macedonians, Greeks, Thessalian, Thracian, Paeonians, and Agrianian fighters. To the extreme left—next to the foothills—were Calas, Agatho, and Philip, commanding the non-Companion Cavalry. Under Parmenio’s overall command, these units were to fight an enemy holding action.
In the middle were the phalanx units, commanded by Craterus, Meleager, Philip, Son of Amyntas, Amyntas, and the sons of Andromenes, Coenus and Perdiccas. Their roles were to advance slowly while fighting a near-defensive action. This would allow Alexander’s Companion Cavalry to launch the main attack.
On the extreme right were Nicanor–commanding the guards’ brigade, Arrhabaeus—commanding the lancers and Paeonians, and Philotas—commanding the crack Companion Cavalry. Next to the Granicus were Clearchus and Attalus–commanding the Agrianian archers. King Alexander directed all of the extreme right units.
The second battle of the Granicus River exploded into open conflict. “Alalalalai, Alalalalai, Alalalalai!” roared the soldiers in the phalanx as the armies raced toward each other. The fearsome sound was their war cry to the Macedonian god of war.
Racing at the Greek and Macedonian allies from the opposite direction were 30,000 Persians. Their commanders, Spithridates and Arsites, channeled their forces toward Alexander. He was unmistakable in his garish uniform. Anticipating Alexander’s cavalry charge, they moved several thousand of their elite soldiers from center to left to counter him.
It was exactly what Alexander wanted them to do. At the head of the wedge formation that his father had invented, he and his cavalry made a galloping, furious feint toward the enemy left. Memnon and Arsamenes were waiting for him there with overwhelming defensive forces. At the last moment, just before they encountered the enemy mercenaries, Alexander pivoted the wedge left toward the Persian middle and struck deep into the surprised enemy. It was the precise spot where the Persian commanders had just weakened their center by anticipating Alexander’s charge.
“Hit the middle,” Alexander shouted. “They fell for our pivot. Cut them down!” he screamed to Philotas.
The deadly contest was joined. Darius’ son-in-law, Mithridates, countered Alexander’s move by leading his own Persian cavalry straight into the Macedonian center. The noise of battle rose to such a level that voice commands were now impossible.
Bodies and horses were falling all around Alexander as he broke his spear into an enemy chest. Given another spear by Demaratus, he charged straight at Mithridates. But Mithridates saw him coming and, with all of the force he could generate, launched a spear straight at Alexander. The missile had such energy behind it that it easily pierced Alexander’s shield, drove into his breastplate, but only penetrated his chest by the depth of a thumbnail. Alexander pulled out the spearhead and drove his own spear into Mithridates’ chest. Its tip broke off when it hit the Persian’s thick body armor, leaving him uninjured. The action left Alexander with only half of his spear.
Mithridates drew his sword and urged his mount toward the enemy king. “I’ll kill you with the sword of my father,” he yelled at Alexander.
Alexander was ready for the attack. As Mithridates neared, he thrust his broken spear into his enemy’s face, knocking him to the ground. Mithridates’ wound was mortal. Futilely, he tried to stop the blood that covered his face. But the battle soon swept over him, trampling him to death.
So concentrated was the king with this personal battle that he did not see another Persian, Rhosaces, charging at him from the side. Rhosaces swung a mighty blow onto Alexander’s head with such a force that it crashed through the king’s helmet, cut off one of his winged plumes, and split his skull slightly.
Blood ran down Alexander’s head and face and he nearly lost consciousness. Somehow, he killed Rhosaces with his sword, but he was now fighting just to remain on his horse.
From behind the king, rode Rhosaces’ brother, Spithridates. His great scimitar was raised two arms’ lengths above Alexander. “You Macedonian bastard!” he yelled. “I’ll have your head on a pole.”
Just before his slashing sword started its downward motion that would have easily decapitated Alexander, Black Cleitus severed Spithridates’ arm at the shoulder. The dark-skinned brother of Alexander’s childhood nurse had saved the king’s life.
Unable to remain conscious any longer, the king fell to the ground amid dead bodies, maimed horses and broken weapons. Immediately, Royal Companions surrounded him as the furious battle continued. With great difficulty, they helped him remount his horse. However, the king could no longer fight. His life hung in the balance.
While King Alexander was nearly being killed, his phalanx began pouring into the gap that his charge had created in the Persian middle. Soon, they were decimating Arsites’ infantry and meaningful Persian resistance in the center disappeared. Seeing the enemy’s collapse, Parmenio launched his Thessalian cavalry from the left. It was too much for the Persian forces. Their lines broke and the Persian soldiers began a desperate, unorganized retreat.
Memnon and his Greek mercenaries, seeing that the battle was lost, retreated to a small hill above the battlefi
eld and drew up defensive positions. All that remained of the Battle of the Granicus River involved Greeks killing Greeks.
Within the hour, Alexander, now partially recovered, mounted a fresh horse. “The Greek mercenaries want you to grant them surrender rights,” Philotas yelled to the king as brought his horse to a halt before the king’s circle of officers. “What do you say, Alexander?” he asked.
“They have betrayed their countrymen by fighting with our ancient enemies,” Alexander said coldly as he wiped blood from his eyes. “Destroy them now! Those that aren’t killed outright will go to the mines of Pangaeus. I’ll lead the final charge myself.”
Memnon’s mercenaries were surrounded and Alexander’s command was carried out. More than three and a half thousand were killed on the small hill where they fought. Two thousand were sent back to Thrace after the battle where they suffered a short life mining what remained of the gold and silver of Mount Pangaeus. General Memnon somehow managed to escape. He and King Alexander would meet again.
≈
After the battle, Alexander, showing bloodstained bandages on his head, dismissed his bragging officers and commanded that Callisthenes and Eumenes join him. While he waited for them, he reflected on his great victory. All of western Persia now lay open to him. The battle result was everything that he had wanted.
Alexander decided that three hundred Persian suits of armor would be sent back for display in Athens’ Parthenon. Olympias would receive all of the luxurious items that he had captured from the Persians. She would like that. Everything else of value was to be sold locally or in Macedonia to help fund his campaign.
While his economic pressures had been greatly reduced with the Granicus victory, money worries still troubled him. He would soon win another victory—this time a victory over Great King Darius himself. Then he would be able to stop worrying about money. He motioned for a servant to pour him another kantharos of a fine Persian beer that he had captured. He lowered his head and rubbed his throbbing forehead as he awaited his chroniclers.
“We have already started the narrative of your great victory,” Callisthenes said as he and Eumenes were escorted into the king’s presence. “It will be sent to Athens tomorrow by trireme. Sympathetic supporters will spread the magnificent account throughout Greece and Macedonia.”
“Slow down, Callisthenes,” Alexander interrupted. “I want to discuss events at the Granicus. How did you write it? Did you record two battles or one?”
Eumenes answered for Callisthenes, who appeared puzzled. “Two, of course: the late afternoon battle and your great dawn victory. Do you want us to read it to you?”
“Destroy your first drafts,” Alexander said with anger. “Write the account with both events combined into one. I don’t want to feed my enemies with my afternoon failure. Remember what Aristotle taught us: carefully crafted words are as powerful as entire regiments. I don’t expect any more failures, but if they should happen, I want a positive cast put on all of my actions. Do you understand what your king is telling you?” Alexander looked harshly at both men and knew that they understood him fully.
“The first drafts will be burned when we leave,” Callisthenes said. “You will have a revised version this evening. Do you desire anything else from us?”
Eumenes looked at the floor as his colleague was caving in to Alexander’s vanity.
“Leave me,” Alexander said as he turned his back on the writers. After they left, he called for a scroll and writing instruments from his guard. He wanted to write personal messages to his mother and Aristotle.
He had survived his first battle. Only the victory allowed his first full night’s sleep in weeks.
CHAPTER 8
CONSEQUENCES
King Darius was furious. His eyes were bulging and small beads of sweat spotted his large brow. He rarely raised his voice, but everything had changed. One-sixth of his entire empire was on the verge of falling to Alexander. “Memnon warned me that the Macedonians must not be allowed to gain a foothold on the mainland,” he shouted. “I thought him just a Greek alarmist.”
Two of the king’s eastern empire satraps stood by silently, afraid to say anything unless invited. Great Kings commonly ended lives when their anger could find no easy target. Still fuming, Darius looked at them and said, “Have your brains stopped functioning? Give me your council!”
Awkward silence continued. Then the satrap whose province was farthest from Alexander’s invasion route spoke. “Memnon is our best hope during these initial battles, Great King. It hurts my Persian pride to say it, but Greek and Macedonian military tactics are superior to ours. If you give Memnon everything he requires, his moves will buy us time. Already, tens of thousands of our provincial fighting men are being assembled into a mighty army. We should end up with over 150,000 fighters. Even Alexander could not oppose such a force.”
The other satrap finally joined the conversation. He had just returned from meeting with Memnon, after the fall of Halicarnassus to the Macedonians. His voice was authoritative, but his meek body movements failed to support his strong words. “Memnon and Orontobates are now with our fleet in Cos. They threaten the Greek Ionian city-states daily. Memnon has expectations that Chios and Lesbos will soon be ours.”
“Expectations?” Darius asked sarcastically. “I want results, not expectations. What can you and Memnon guarantee me?”
“Memnon told me to tell you that only two things matter in these contests,” the second satrap answered. “Alexander is temporarily powerful on land. We are all-powerful on the sea. If you allow Memnon to attack the Greek Ionian city-states with our 300 naval vessels, Alexander will be forced to halt his advance. After that, we can redirect our navy against Macedonia and the Greek island of Euboea. Your provincial forces will arrive by then, and we will be at full land strength. Finally, we will maneuver the Macedonians into a battle site of our liking.
Darius walked away from the satraps, exasperated. He had thought that his gold bribes and unified support of his invasion-path satraps would be enough. But not now. Quickly, he made a decision. “I want this message sent to Memnon tonight using our fire-signaling system,” he commanded. “Press the naval attack against the Ionian city-states. I want Macedonian territory to feel the sting of our navy immediately. Memnon is now commander of all Persian forces in the Macedonians’ path. Once we gain initial victories, the Greeks’ natural hatred of Alexander will cause them to rise up. My retainers in Athens inform me that they already have 400 triremes waiting to join an insurrection. I will no longer wait for Alexander to come to me.”
Darius dismissed the two satraps and waited for them to give the required proskynesis. Sometimes he hated the time that it took for his subjects to humble themselves before him. Alone, he was filled with doubts. He was placing his empire in the hands of a single Greek, Rhodian mercenary. His first thought was this was insanity. However, nearly all of his satraps and generals felt the action was wise.
If this failed, he thought, he would take the field himself and lead the greatest Persian army since Xerxes. Then, he could return to expanding his empire by invading Greece itself. He planned to watch as Olympias was raped by several of his surly veterans. This prospect made him smile as he left for a bath and a massage by his newest teenage girl. She was a wonder-worker with her small hands.
≈
Alexander’s intelligence corps had kept him informed of Darius’ naval strategy of attacking the Greek Ionian colonies and the successful Persian forays into the Greek mainland. He decided to split his army to counteract these threatening Persian moves. Parmenio was sent back north with orders to clean out the aggressive tribes inhabiting the central plateau. This action removed Parmenio from Alexander’s presence at a time when he was unsure of the old general’s allegiance. Alexander then decided to move south, aiming to control the Aegean Sea coastal strongholds of the enemy. Their powerful and effective navy could defeat his every plan if left unchecked.
More than these military move
s and countermoves, Alexander worried night and day about the near bankrupt state of Macedon. Weekly reports from his mother and Antipater attested to the deplorable condition of the Macedonian economy. Precious little of the Great King’s wealth had made its way back to his troubled kingdom. He was also aware from reports of his Macedonian agents in Athens that, with his first major defeat, the Greeks would rise up against him.
After moving his army awkwardly through Lycia and Pamphylia, he met with Hephaestion privately. Hephaestion started the conversation, a rare event when he and Alexander met to discuss serious matters. “Ptolemy will settle things in Halicarnassus,” he began. “It will probably take a year, but with it in our hands the Persian naval forces will be greatly weakened.”
“Weakened but not eliminated,” Alexander answered. “I made a grievous error when I didn’t capture Memnon after Granicus. Now, he has fled Halicarnassus and the Persian navy threatens cities that we have already conquered. Only a Greek could be so wily.”
Hephaestion let the gravity of Alexander’s lament sink in, and then added more bad news. “Parmenio’s Thracian cavalry commander, Alexander of Lyncestis, is under arrest. Parmenio informed us through a small group of scouts who made it through enemy territory. It seems that the traitor accepted a bribe of 1,000 gold talents from Darius if he would assassinate you.”
Alexander was surprised but wary. “Something smells here,” he snapped. “Parmenio may have invented this plot to be able to replace Alexander with one of his supporters. The emerging contest between the old man and me is approaching a dangerous stage. I still need him, but my trust level is eroding fast.”
“You should move slowly on this, Alexander,” Hephaestion said. “I advise you to wait until our two armies join at Gordium. Our communication lines are weakened this far south. At Gordium, you will have full authority of your army behind you, should Parmenio attempt anything.”
Without further consideration, Alexander agreed. “Get word back to Parmenio as soon as possible. Issue a command under my royal seal that everyone involved in the plot is to be held under close arrest. Order Parmenio not to take any independent action without my direct order. Make sure he understands that.”
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