The Three Paradises

by Robert Fabbri

  Holcias, a young officer who favoured Alexander’s beardless look, glared at Leonidas and then Antigonos, but kept his mouth shut as advised.

  Antigonos leaned closer to Leonidas’ ear. ‘I have another job for you over the winter, this time in Eumenes’ camp at Nora; just find me one officer, preferably cavalry, who will turn for a reasonable amount of gold.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure.’

  ‘Discreet.’

  ‘As always.’

  ‘Good man.’ Antigonos clapped him on the shoulder and then turned to address his prisoners. ‘You are all treacherous bastards, every one of you. You all deserve summary execution, all of you, here and now.’ He pointed to his cavalry all around them. ‘They would tear you to pieces; it would only take my word.’ To Antigonos’ satisfaction none cried out to beg for their lives. They know I’m right and they expect no less; well, this will surprise them. ‘But I’m not going to give that order. Not today and not any day, provided you take an oath each to your guardian gods: an oath that you will return directly to Macedon and never again set foot in Asia.’

  This pronouncement drew looks of surprise from not only the prisoners but also from Antipatros’ own men, especially Demetrios, who stared at his father aghast.

  ‘That’s right, you heard me correctly. You are free to go if you swear never to come back; do you accept?’

  It did not take long for them to make up their minds and the cheering echoed around the bleak valley that, a few moments earlier, none of the deserters had thought they would leave alive.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Father?’ Demetrios asked as the oath was being administered.

  Antigonos looked at his son, his one eye twinkling with amusement. ‘Eumenes executed the ringleaders of the men who deserted him and then took the rest back into his service, splitting them up and distributing them around more reliable units. I’ve just shown myself to be more lenient than the sly little Greek in dealing with outlaws. Don’t forget, Eumenes’ men are all outlaws and can normally expect no mercy, but in allowing my outlaws to live it might make more than a few of his men think seriously about coming over to me; and when I get him to stand and face me, his men will be more inclined to surrender knowing that they will get fair treatment.’ He gestured at the deserters as they repeated the oaths in front of makeshift altars made of shields set on upright javelins. ‘And besides, what good are they to me? I can never trust them again and why would I want to dilute my crack troops as Eumenes had done? No, let these lads go back to Macedon where they can become yet another problem for Antipatros.’ He rubbed his hands and chuckled again. ‘Not a bad day’s work, all in all. Now, Son, let’s get out of these mountains and winter on the coast at Tarsus rather than freezing our balls off in Celaenae, assuming we can even get into it; I’m going to spend the winter practising the dark art of subversion with Leonidas whilst you can spend it nicely tucked up in bed with Phila.’ He paused and frowned. ‘I’ve been so preoccupied recently I haven’t had time to ask you how married life is treating you.’

  Demetrios shot his father a glance to see if he was making game of him. ‘Very well, thank you,’ he replied once he judged the question to be genuine. ‘She’s as compliant as I could wish although she does read too many books for my liking.’

  ‘Does she now? You should put a stop to that. It doesn’t do to allow a woman to be too highly educated; they start having opinions, you know.’

  Demetrios nodded. ‘Phila’s already expressed a few of hers, mostly on literature; I have to say that they’re way beyond me, although she does seem to take an interest when I talk to her about Alexander’s campaigns and warfare in general.’

  ‘Well, hopefully you’ll have a lot to talk to her about in the spring once we’ve found that little Greek.’

  ‘Eumenes’ army is just over two leagues away, over that range of hills to the south-east,’ the scout reported to Antigonos as he led his men north at the start of the campaigning season four months later.

  ‘We mustn’t let him pass,’ Antigonos said after due consideration. ‘Tell the scouts to pull back; I don’t want Eumenes to know that we have found him and he makes a detour around us.’ He looked down at a rough map of Anatolia, so basic as to be of little use, yet it was all he had; Philotas, Leonidas and Demetrios gathered around him. ‘He’s heading back to Phrygia to carry on raiding this season.’ He turned to Leonidas. ‘What’s the nearest town to here?’

  ‘Orcynia, about ten leagues to the north-west.’

  ‘That’ll be where he’s aiming for then; we’ll stop him there before he does any damage. We’ll force-march before him; Demetrios, take your cavalry around his southern flank and get behind the little Greek, cutting him off from his base in Kappadokia. Philotas and I will bring the rest of the army to the gates of Orcynia as fast as we possibly can and offer battle in front of the town. No doubt Eumenes will try to deal with you and your cavalry first with his Kappadokians as he forms up the rest of his force to deal with us. He’s going to be in for a nasty surprise.’ He looked at Leonidas. ‘Can you get a message to our man to tell him the timing of the plan?’

  Leonidas smiled. ‘I’ll sneak into their camp tonight. Don’t you worry, he’ll be ready.’

  Antigonos rubbed his hands together and chuckled softly. It was just as he had hoped it would be as, over the winter months, he had anxiously monitored Leonidas’ progress; the price had been high but, if it worked out as it should, it would be worth it. Once Leonidas had reported the success of his mission, just as the snows of the interior had begun to melt so that the Taurus Mountain passes opened – and Demetrios had roused himself from Phila’s bed – Antigonos had taken his army back north from Tarsus with a view to meeting Eumenes as he left his winter quarters in Kappadokia. In this he had been successful after just two days waiting close to the border, and now all he had to do was to form up his army before the gates of Orcynia and await his enemy’s arrival. With Demetrios cutting off his retreat, Eumenes will have to fight. Gods, it will be good; nothing better than starting off the season with a set-piece battle rather than dancing around each other for months on end. Still, I hope it’s not too bloody as I need as many of his Macedonians to come over to me as possible; and, besides, I rather like the sly little Greek. He never did anything to offend me and I don’t think he bears any animosity towards me. He could be a very useful ally.

  *

  Antigonos looked east, through soft rain to see the vanguard of Eumenes’ army approaching, two days after his scouts had first spotted it; it had been an exhausting time, force-marching his army to Orcynia, a forbidding-looking town of slab-like, grey-stone architecture of great antiquity that had nothing to recommend it other than he was able to choose his ground, at the top of a gentle slope, and stand in readiness for Eumenes’ arrival. And here Eumenes now was with an army, according to his scouts and spies in the enemy camp, of twenty thousand infantry and almost five thousand horse. We’re very evenly matched in terms of numbers – for the moment, that is.

  As he watched, a group of horsemen split from the advancing army and kicked their mounts into a gallop; the lead man had a branch of truce tied to his lance. So he sends to parley, does he? I wonder what he wants.

  ‘My lord Eumenes sends his greetings, sir,’ the herald said, standing before Antigonos seated in a chair under a panoply rigged against the rain.

  ‘Please return mine in turn.’

  ‘Indeed I shall, sir. My lord Eumenes also wishes you and your kin health and long life.’

  ‘Does he now? Does that mean he is surrendering to me without a battle?’

  ‘Indeed not, sir, he just hopes that you and your kin will survive the battle that he very much regrets; but he sees it as a necessity unless you, sir, can see your way to surrendering.’

  ‘He always did have a sense of humour, Eumenes,’ Antigonos said with genuine affection. ‘Go, return to him and tell him that I am more than willing to take his army under my command, convene an army asse
mbly that would overturn his death sentence and then take him on as my second-in-command in Asia, restoring him officially to the satrapy of Kappadokia.’ Antigonos waved the herald away. ‘Return as soon as you have his answer.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll agree?’ Philotas asked once the herald was heading back to Eumenes’ camp, being erected half a league away.

  ‘Of course not: he would lose all face. No, he has to fight but, seeing as that herald is going to come back, I plan a ruse that should, along with the defection, make his army quite willing to surrender after a few score casualties; and you, my friend, have a part to play.’

  And as Antigonos explained to Philotas his part in the deception, the rain cleared and the sun broke through, warming the cold grey-stone walls of Orcynia with a late afternoon light, making the city seem somewhat less forbidding. All around the camp, cooking fires were set and the scent of wood smoke and grilled mutton wafted through the air as the men’s voices grew louder with their evening wine ration lubricating their throats.

  It was as Antigonos, now in his tent, drained his second cup of unwatered wine that the herald was announced again. Ushering Philotas out of the back of the tent, Antigonos received the herald alone.

  The herald saluted, holding his branch of truce tied to his lance in the other hand. ‘My lord very much regrets that he is unable to take advantage of your generous offer – for which he thanks you – for reasons he is sure that you will understand.’

  Antigonos made no reply, just nodding.

  ‘He asks you to consider,’ the herald went on when he realised that Antigonos was only there to listen, ‘that a great loss of blood could be averted if you could see your way to joining forces with him, as an equal partner, sharing command, in order to at least keep the empire in Asia from disintegrating. He would—’

  ‘Antigonos,’ Philotas said, striding into the tent in a state of excitement. ‘They’re in sight; they were spotted just now. They’ll be with us before the moon rises.’

  Antigonos stood and downed his wine. ‘Excellent, old friend, is it the number we were expecting?’

  ‘If anything it is more but only infantry.’

  ‘More? Even better.’ He looked back to the herald. ‘You were saying?’

  EUMENES.

  THE SLY.

  ‘I DON’T BELIEVE IT,’ Eumenes asserted.

  ‘I assure you, my lord, that’s what he said, the reinforcements were in sight and there were more of them than they expected – all infantry. They will be in their camp by moonrise.’

  Eumenes waved his hand in irritation. ‘No, no, I’m sure you’re right, I believe that’s what was said; I just don’t believe it was the truth. One of his officers, probably Philotas judging by your description, comes in whilst an enemy herald is being interviewed and gives away a piece of sensitive information just like that? No, I don’t believe that at all; it’s a ruse to make me think I’m grossly outnumbered and to get me to surrender without a fight. Well, I’ll not fall for it.’ He turned to his dinner companions, Hieronymus, Xennias, Parmida and Apollonides, all seated around the camp fire with him. ‘What say you?’

  ‘I agree,’ Xennias said, with complete conviction. ‘It was too much of a set-up; no one would let a piece of information like that slip in front of an enemy herald.’

  ‘No one but a fool,’ Parmida cautioned, ‘but we know Antigonos not to be a fool so if it were genuine he would have reprimanded the officer rather than question him further.’

  ‘Unless he wants us to know that he really has got reinforcements in order to avoid a battle,’ Apollonides put in. ‘After all, you yourself said you don’t really understand why you and Antigonos are fighting now that Antipatros has gone back to Europe with the kings.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  ‘Whether it is true or not,’ Hieronymus said, ‘it has caused confusion and doubt and I would hazard a guess that that is what it was meant to do; therefore, I would say it is misinformation planted for that very purpose.’

  Eumenes stared into the fire for a while, enjoying the patterns in the glowing logs. ‘Ultimately,’ he said eventually, ‘it doesn’t matter whether it’s the truth or not; I still have to face him in the morning and with my cavalry superiority I don’t have to worry too much about his infantry numbers. No, gentlemen, we can choose to believe it or not, for the present; however, tomorrow shall show us the truth of the matter.’

  ‘The phalanx’s frontage must be at least two thousand paces,’ Xennias observed as they sat on their horses, watching Antigonos’ army form up, soon after dawn the following morning.

  ‘That can’t be,’ Eumenes said, refusing to believe what his eyes were witnessing fifteen hundred paces further up the gentle slope at its summit. ‘That would mean he has something in the region of thirty-two thousand men.’

  ‘They must have been telling the truth about the reinforcements then.’

  Eumenes stared, incredulous, at the phalanx as Antigonos’ peltasts and cavalry deployed to cover the huge formation’s flanks; light troops came swarming from between the files and fanned out, left and right, ready to skirmish when the two armies rumbled towards one another. ‘I still can’t believe it.’ He glanced over his shoulder at his own phalanx at little less than half the size of what it faced: the concern was obvious on the faces of the men closest to him. They won’t stand in the face of that; especially as they know that Antigonos didn’t execute his deserters last year. He looked to each flank, formed of Thracian, Paphlagonian, Bithynian and other mercenary infantry, almost five thousand on either, and then to Xennias’ and Apollonides’ Macedonian Companion cavalry on the left flank and his own Kappadokians on the right, both supported by light cavalry of various sorts. It’ll have to be the cavalry and mercenary infantry who win it, if I am to win at all; I’ll refuse with my centre, retreating the phalanx facing the enemy and then send the cavalry and infantry mercenaries around the flanks of this monster. If I can seize his baggage, as I did with Neoptolemus, then there is a good chance… But Eumenes’ train of thought was cut short by movement on his left wing: his Companion cavalry were advancing towards the enemy. ‘Why are they attacking, Xennias? Who gave the order?’

  Xennias looked bemused as he watched Apollonides lead his own and Xennias’ men, almost four thousand in total, up the hill, changing from a trot to a canter as they reached the halfway point between the two armies.

  And then the ghastly reality of the situation hit Eumenes as Antigonos’ men let rip a mighty roar that was acknowledged by the horsemen waving their lances in the air. ‘They’re deserting, the bastards. Xennias, what do you know about this?’

  Xennias shook his head, his eyes betraying his total surprise. ‘Nothing, sir, I’ve had no hint of it from any of my lads and I very rarely talk to Apollonides’ men.’

  Apollonides and his deserters reached the Antigonoid line and turned; horns rang out and the great army lumbered forward, down the hill.

  Without that cavalry, I’m lost. ‘Sound the retreat facing the enemy!’ Eumenes shouted to his signaller waiting behind him, sharing the terrified look that was now on most of his men’s faces.

  The call was long and clear and repeated throughout the army and was received with the greatest relief; back they went, pace by pace in the face of the force now coming down the slope at a good pace. Eumenes did not move; he was transfixed: something felt very wrong. And then, as the opposing phalanx came down the slope and it could be viewed at an angle, seeing over the heads of the first ranks, he saw it. ‘It’s only eight deep!’ he shouted at Xennias and Parmida. ‘The bastard’s tricked us: he’s formed up his phalanx at half the depth so it looks twice the size. We can still win this.’ He turned to his signaller. ‘Sound halt!’

  The signal rang out, repeated all along the line, but it was too late: confusion ruled as many of the units did not believe – or want to believe – the order and carried on the retreat whilst other, steadier, units stood to face the enemy; thus the army disinte
grated.

  And Antigonos unleashed his cavalry.

  Down they came, furies from the mouth of Hades, shrieking their triumph at the sight of a disordered and confused army; the three thousand that had originally been with Antigonos plus the four thousand deserters descended upon the flanks of Eumenes’ army with the relish of killers seizing upon a defenceless target.

  Eumenes took one look and knew that all was lost. I must save what I can. ‘Parmida, Xennias, with me; we must at least get the Kappadokians out of this!’ Turning his horse, he galloped to where his elite cavalry unit waited in silence despite the wave of death surging down the hill towards them. But the sight of that incoming horde was too much for the mercenaries and they turned their backs and fled; as Eumenes sped away with his Kappadokians, Antigonos’ cavalry crashed into the fleeing infantry and a great slaughter commenced whilst in the centre, the phalanx sat down in surrender.

  Betrayed and bamboozled all in one morning, Eumenes mused as he led his favoured cavalry away from the carnage, I must be losing my touch; and there was me thinking that I was an intelligent person with a degree of intuition. It’s put me right in the mood for administering a deliciously slow death to Apollonides. But all in good time; first I need to get out of this mess.

  It was as the sun reached its zenith that Eumenes judged it safe to call a halt to the headlong flight and assess the situation on a hilltop not far from the Kappadokian border.

  ‘Most of our horse-archers,’ Xennias reported after a headcount, ‘about half of the Paphlagonian light cavalry and the same proportion of the Thracians have followed us out as well as dribs and drabs of other mercenary light cavalry; about two thousand in all, plus the six hundred Kappadokians.’

  ‘Two thousand six hundred out of twenty thousand,’ Eumenes said. Although the number did not surprise him, hearing it stated was sobering indeed. ‘The phalanx surrendered entirely so that leaves about eight thousand dead; once he had the phalanx in his hands he would have slaughtered any mercenaries so that he wouldn’t have to pay them and they couldn’t go and fight for someone else. I know how the Macedonian military mind works and it’s far from being a thing of beauty; present company excluded, Xennias, naturally.’