The Three Paradises

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘No, we mustn’t, Phocion. Just answer the question: yes or no?’

  ‘But that would be to ignore the essence of the matter; not to get to the very heart of—’

  ‘Yes or no!’

  ‘But to answer so—’

  ‘Yes or no!’

  ‘In substance the answer would be a tentative yes, but—’

  ‘But nothing. I have my answer. Hagnonides, what is your reason for being here?’

  ‘To thank you, Polyperchon, for restoring our rights as citizens of Athens and to help us bring these oligarchs,’ he spat the word, ‘to justice. We have always been loyal to Macedon and we always will be and we will punish these men in the assembly; in the true democratic assembly of Athens. Send them back to the city in animal cages and we will see it done.’

  A roar of laughter interrupted Polyperchon’s reply and all turned to the king who was laughing uncontrollably on his throne, knees up and hands clutching his sides in the most un-regal manner.

  ‘Philip!’ Adea shouted, getting up from her seat. ‘Philip, behave yourself.’

  You stupid girl; you don’t say that in public to the King of Macedon, no matter how much of an idiot he is.

  Philip looked at his wife, tears flowing down his face, trying to get a hold of his mirth.

  ‘Philip, stop it.’ Adea leaned over and whispered into his ear.

  Philip’s laugh came to an abrupt end; he looked around suspiciously. ‘The Ferryman? Where?’

  Adea whispered again.

  Philip nodded slow understanding. ‘Yes, I’m king; but it was funny: the man came to speak for that man,’ he pointed at Phocion, ‘and instead was taken away to be made dead.’

  ‘Yes, Philip, but that was a while ago. You have to concentrate on what is happening at the moment.’ She stroked his cheek; he looked up at her and drooled.

  It was an embarrassed silence that hung over the court as all pretended that this was the most normal way for the king of Macedon and his consort to behave.

  It was Phocion who broke that silence as Adea sat back down.

  ‘May I speak in my defence, Lord Regent?’

  ‘No, I’ve had enough of long-winded Greeks.’ Polyperchon got to his feet and turned away.

  ‘Lord Regent!’ a member of Phocion’s delegation shouted, rushing forward and grabbing Polyperchon’s shoulder. ‘Think of all Phocion has done for Macedon; of all we have done for Macedon in keeping our fellow Greeks in peace; leading by example in paying our dues and providing men not only as infantry but also as rowers. We have ever been loyal.’

  Polyperchon pulled himself away from the grip. ‘Stop lying to me in the presence of the king!’

  This was too much for Philip; he leaped from his throne, grabbed one of his bodyguards’ spears and charged at the delegate.

  ‘Hegemon!’ Phocion shouted, pointing at the incoming threat.

  Hegemon turned and jumped to one side, narrowly avoiding the spear-point.

  Polyperchon jumped on the king, wrapping his arms about him, halting him as Hegemon scampered away. ‘What are you doing?’

  Philip looked at Polyperchon, outrage in his dim eyes. ‘He told fibs! You said so. You mustn’t tell fibs, my wife told me. I never tell fibs, not anymore.’

  ‘Yes, well, that doesn’t mean you have to kill someone if they do.’

  ‘I’m playing king; I can do anything I want.’

  Taking the spear from Philip’s hands, Polyperchon turned to Adea. ‘Take him back to his tent and try to impress upon him the need to behave with decorum on this trip.’

  ‘And what about us?’ Phocion asked.

  ‘I shall have you all shipped back to Athens and your assembly can deal with you before I arrive. This is not an issue for Macedon; we do not interfere in the internal politics of Greek states.’ With that blatant reworking of the truth, Polyperchon left the court in uproar. Lucky I took the spear away from the idiot; even he would have realised that was a ‘fib’.

  With the delegations both sent back by sea, one in chains the other not, Polyperchon continued his march south and it was with relief that he met up with Alexandros encamped on the farmland around the city to make a total of twenty-five thousand men living off Athens’ bounty.

  ‘They have already sent a delegation asking me to leave, Father,’ Alexandros said as they walked through the camp in order to be seen by the men as they cooked their evening meal, greeting them and sharing a joke with old comrades. ‘They claim that there will be a backlash against the new regime if our foraging causes a shortage of food in the city. They’re especially worried because they put Phocion to death; they made him and five others drink hemlock after such long service to Athens.’

  ‘Well, that’s their own fault for going to extremes. Exile would have been quite sufficient, just as he did to them; he spared them death when he had the chance yet they could not see their way to doing the same.’

  ‘And they botched it by not giving the executioner enough public money to buy sufficient leaves so there was the undignified spectacle of Phocion, half dead, giving money out of his own purse to the executioner to go and buy more; this obviously has got around and there are mumblings in certain quarters against the viciousness of Hagnonides and his faction.

  ‘That’s Greeks for you.’ Polyperchon looked across to Athens, the grand, brightly painted buildings on the Acropolis glowing in even richer hues in the evening sun, towering over the city that was ancient by any reckoning. ‘Then we had better get this done as quickly as possible; once we’ve got Nicanor of Sindus out of Piraeus, I can take the main bulk of the army over to Megalopolis and the Athenians can stop moaning.’ He acknowledged the greeting of a group of veterans he recognised from the storming of a stronghold in Bactria, recalling their names and asking how they did, before turning towards his tent. ‘We had better come up with a plan of attack.’

  ‘I have one already, Father. I’ll take you through it as we walk.’

  ‘I think that would work admirably, Alexandros,’ Polyperchon said as they neared his tent. Did Kleitos leave enough ships to block the harbour mouth to prevent any escape by sea?’

  ‘Yes, Father, twelve should be enough.’

  ‘Good. Will everything be ready by tomorrow night?’

  ‘I’ll make sure it is.’

  ‘Has Olympias written again to Nicanor of Sindus?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge, no. I must admit I was surprised that she did so in the first place.’

  Polyperchon returned the guards’ salute as he entered his tent. ‘I believe Olympias did it to demonstrate that she is on my side even though she hasn’t taken up the offer I made her after you went south.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Yes, which was?’ a female voice echoed.

  Polyperchon started, and then turned to see Adea sitting at the council table with the king perched on his throne.

  ‘I sit here, waiting for you to come back so that we can take counsel together on how to proceed and I hear you have made Olympias an offer of some sort without even mentioning it to me. How is that?’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Polyperchon said, hoping his embarrassment would not show. ‘I offered her a meeting with her grandson on the border between Macedon and Epirus if she would keep her nephew from taking advantage of me taking the army south and leaving no more than five thousand troops in Macedon.’

  Adea eyed him with deep suspicion. ‘And that was all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She contemplated him for a few moments before coming to an internal decision and then smiling. ‘Well, gentlemen, would you like to brief the king on the situation?’

  Having briefed the fidgeting king, Polyperchon looked at Alexandros, as Adea led her husband by the hand from the tent, the meeting over. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘Do you think she believed me?’

  ‘She might have; it sounded plausible. But what did you really offer Olympias?’

  Alexandros whistled on
ce his father had divulged the truth. ‘That is a death warrant for the girl.’

  ‘I know. We shall have to keep a sharp watch on her in case she does suspect something.’

  But shouting from outside prevented further discussion of the matter as the officer commanding the guard came rushing in. ‘Come quickly, sir!’

  Polyperchon and Alexandros rushed out and looked in the direction the man was pointing.

  Polyperchon’s spirits sank. ‘Gods above and below, Kleitos missed them and we’re too late.’ There, on the horizon, lit by the last of the westering sun were sails, scores of them. Kassandros had come to Athens and there was nothing to be done about it. Polyperchon turned, he had seen enough. ‘We’ll send to parley with him in the morning; perhaps we can avoid an all-out war.’

  But the morning held even less hope for Polyperchon as Alexandros hurried into his tent. ‘It’s Adea!’

  ‘What about her?’ Polyperchon said, chewing on a hunk of bread dipped in olive oil.

  ‘She’s gone. And the king is missing too.’

  ‘Where to?’ Polyperchon asked, jumping to his feet.

  Alexandros shrugged but Polyperchon had a sinking feeling that he knew as he left his tent to see for himself; and that feeling was confirmed by the sight that presented itself to him as he looked towards Piraeus: the fleet was leaving.

  ‘Is Kassandros going, Father?’

  Polyperchon shook his head. ‘No, Son. Kassandros is staying with the army that the fleet brought. The fleet is heading for the Propontis. Adea was in on all our plans; she’s taken the king over to Kassandros and has told him about Kleitos. Kassandros has sent his fleet to crush him between it and Antigonos.’

  ANTIGONOS.

  THE ONE-EYED.

  ‘WHEN I HEARD of it, Leonidas, I was speechless.’ Antigonos’ one eye glared up at his subordinate, newly arrived in his camp at Chalcedon on the Bosporus, standing to attention before him. ‘Speechless in that I was bellowing so incoherently in rage that I was incapable of speech. Does that give you some sort of an idea of just how angry I was, still am, at what you did?’

  Leonidas met his commanding officer’s glare with defiance. ‘You gave me the authority to negotiate with him and that was a part of the negotiations. Besides, it seemed reasonable to me and all my officers that he should swear loyalty to the kings as well. After all, aren’t we all loyal to them and to Olympias as the mother of Alexander?’

  ‘My arse!’ Antigonos slammed his fist onto the desk. ‘My great, pox-ridden arse! You are loyal to me and me alone!’

  Leonidas flinched at the outburst. ‘And you are loyal to the kings – surely?’

  Antigonos collected himself. I cannot deny that publicly and keep a steady command. ‘The kings are in Europe; they have left Asia. I am the commander-in-chief of Asia; therefore the ultimate loyalty in Asia must be to me and Eumenes is in Asia. But you,’ Antigonos raised a shaking finger at Leonidas, ‘you have given him a way out of his oath because he can claim that his loyalty to the kings has a higher calling than his oath to me and he would be justified!’ He half stood as he shouted the last word and then slumped back down again, breathing deeply. ‘So, not only is the sly little Greek back as Satrap of Kappadokia and raising a fresh army, but he can now also use that army to attack anyone whom the kings, or that witch Olympias, deem to be an enemy. And, seeing as I’ve just supplied Kassandros with the ships and troops to threaten Polyperchon who – if you remember – is, rightly or wrongly, officially the regent and holder of the ring of Macedon, that could well be considered to be me. Because of your stupidity I will now have to fight Eumenes all over again.’

  ‘Unless he sticks to his oath to you.’

  Antigonos’ mouth dropped open and he stared, incredulous, at Leonidas for many a moment. ‘If he was going to do that he wouldn’t have changed the oath,’ he finally managed to say in a choked voice. ‘Now go, before I have your balls ripped off and shoved up your arse for you to shit out in the morning.’

  Leonidas saluted, wincing at the image, and stepped smartly out of the tent.

  Antigonos drained a full cup of wine, refilled it and then turned to Demetrios and Philotas, sitting in the shadows. ‘If he hadn’t have provided such good service recently, I would do that.’

  ‘I would still do it,’ Philotas said.

  Demetrios looked concerned at his father. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘What else can I do but send a strong force into Kappadokia, capture the little Greek again and give him a choice between swearing a new oath to me alone or going through the same treatment that Leonidas has so narrowly missed. I’ll get Menander to do it; I need to show some faith in him or he’ll be sloping off back to Europe or south to Ptolemy or Seleukos to sell his services there. Five thousand men should be enough, half and half cavalry and skirmishing infantry, mercenary peltasts and Thracians as well as archers and slingers.’ He looked over to his son. ‘See to it, Demetrios. They’re to leave tomorrow morning and travel light; I want them to arrive in Kappadokia before news of their coming gets there. Speed, that is the essence. Get going and have Menander report to me.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Demetrios said, standing and making to leave.

  ‘And make sure none of the lads have ever served with Eumenes,’ Antigonos called after his son. ‘He has an odd way of inspiring loyalty.’

  ‘And you don’t, old friend?’ Philotas asked.

  ‘Oh, the lads follow me all right, but I’m Macedonian and I’ve been a soldier ever since I killed my first boar, so they understand me and I understand them. But Eumenes is a Greek and he used to be a secretary and those two things combined, as far as the lads are concerned, is as good as saying that he takes it up the arse on a professional basis. And yet, there is no denying it, he does command the loyalty of Macedonians serving under him. It’s something I find hard to understand but must always take into account.’

  ‘You wanted to see me, sir,’ Menander said as the guard held the tent flap open.

  ‘Yes, come and sit down; I need you to do something for me.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Menander said, having been briefed on the mission.

  ‘I’m sure you will. And when you get him don’t let him try and twist you with honeyed words. He can be very persuasive.’

  ‘I know our sly little Greek only too well.’

  ‘Father!’ Demetrios shouted, bursting in.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Father, we’re under attack at Cius.’

  ‘Our siege lines there?’

  ‘No, from the sea. They defeated the blockading squadron, sunk or captured every one of our vessels except for the ships holding the harbour as the boom held. When the messenger left, they were attacking the sea walls.’

  ‘The sea walls? How can they do that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Antigonos swore under his breath. ‘Well, well; it would appear that Polyperchon has some military sense after all. My guess is that it’s old Poseidon himself, trident, seaweed and all, come to relieve Arrhidaeus, taking advantage of me lending Kassandros more than half of my ships.’ And then a thought hit him. ‘If he’s here then he must have passed Kassandros and either they missed each other somehow or…’

  Demetrios picked up on his father’s train of thought. ‘Or he completely defeated him and we have no navy left worth talking about.’

  ‘We had better get over there.’

  And it was a depressing, if impressive, sight that met them as they rowed, in a lembi – small and quick – around the point into the bay at whose end Cius was sited. Antigonos rubbed his eye, disbelieving the evidence before it. ‘How have they done that?’

  ‘More to the point,’ Philotas said, ‘why have they done that? They are meant to be relieving Arrhidaeus, not attacking him.’

  All three of them were equally as stunned for, in amongst the enemy fleet, against the sea wall stood a siege tower where it was impossible for such a great construction to be.

&n
bsp; ‘Siege towers don’t float,’ Demetrios said, rather stating the obvious.

  ‘But ships do,’ Philotas said, again stating the obvious, ‘and two with a platform lashed between them can support that tower.’

  Antigonos then understood what was happening. ‘It’s not a siege tower – well, it is but it’s not being used as such, quite the reverse. Because we hold the harbour, he’s taking the garrison off the walls, down through the tower and then transferring them to the other ships and there’s nothing we can do about it except watch and marvel at Kleitos’ ingenuity. Perhaps I made a mistake threatening him.’

  ‘We’d better not stay here, Father,’ Demetrios said, pointing at two ships turning towards them and splitting off from the main body of the fleet. ‘I think they’re coming to investigate us.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing that we can do without ships other than watch from a distance.’ Antigonos turned to the triarchos. ‘Get us away from here.’

  The twenty rowers on either side of the vessel grunted to their task and the ship turned. Antigonos looked back at the city in a more pragmatic frame of mind. In a strange way this has done me a big favour: if he takes Arrhidaeus and his four thousand men back to Europe then he’s off my hands; if he drops him somewhere along the Asian coast he’ll be at my mercy. A smile crept across his face. Either way, I’ll be safe to start moving back south very soon.

  ‘Father, look,’ Demetrios shouted, pointing west.

  There, rounding the island city of Cyzicus appeared five or six ships under oars; four more followed and then another half dozen came after, trailed by even more until at least a hundred were making their way directly into the bay of Cius.

  ‘Kassandros, I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about you.’ Antigonos rubbed his hands together as he looked back to Cius. ‘Kleitos is breaking off to face them.’ Gods, a sea battle; this will be good.

  And it was with speed that Kleitos turned his fleet away from Cius, but with speed also came the curse of haste: through some miscommunication between the two triachoi of the ships supporting the platform each went a different way, tearing at the ropes lashing them to their burden so that the tower began to rock, transmitting its momentum down to the vessels at its base so that they too began to share its motion, amplifying it. Tiny figures at the tower’s summit could be seen hanging on, terrified, as the motion of the great construction grew wilder until it crashed, booming, into the city wall, dislodging many of the men before ricocheting off and teetering over the sea, pushing the sterns of the two ships bearing it down so that water streamed aboard, causing a mass exit of panicking rowers through their oar ports. Back the great tower went, a slow, deadly pendulum, to smash a second time into the wall, shattering much of its top level and killing many left within. And once more it swung away, out towards the sea, pressing down upon its bearers, pushing with intolerable pressure so that again they were forced beneath the waves, tilting it even further until, with unhurried majesty, it tumbled into a sea already thrashing with hundreds of struggling sailors. Up exploded a burst of displaced water to either side of the tower, white-foamed and glittering in the sun; up the tower bounced, slow and deliberate, as if trying one last time to raise itself from its watery grave, sending huge waves rolling out to rock the ships nearby with angry intent as, for a final time, it slumped back down and began, along with its erstwhile bearers, to founder.