By the Sword

by Christian Kachel

  “Our march from Babylon to Susa was straightforward and no army was fielded to confront us. Alexander’s army had a considerably small number of baggage and servants compared to armies of comparable size, which allowed us to cover greater distances in shorter duration. We reached the glittering city of Susa, the winter capital of the Achaemenid Dynasty, in twenty days and found its doors opened to us. Our army confidently marched through the city’s main boulevard and Alexander secured its treasury, instantly making him the richest man in the world. Where Babylon was remarkable for its sheer enormity, Susa was remarkable for its opulence. It was truly a royal seat of power not matched in the Greek world.”

  Leandros’ description of superior Persian cities caused Argos to rustle in his seat. "A lot of good it did them,” he growled. “Any woman can decorate a pretty home, but it takes a man to defend it.”

  Leandros gave a condescending smile and continued his narrative. He clearly had been exposed to spectacles unimaginable to his audience yet still understood our narrow-minded view of the world. “Yes father, they certainly cowered in our mighty wake.”

  “Once Susa was secured, Alexander hurriedly continued our march east towards the other Achaemenid ceremonial capital of Persepolis, where he meant to take the city before its vast treasury could be emptied. To achieve this goal, Alexander led an elite detachment on a direct route to the city while the main body, myself included, marched along the ancient Achaemenid roads. The entire army wintered in Persepolis where we ate, drank, trained and planned for the coming campaign season. Persepolis is a city of extravagant architecture and even a lowly Ionian Greek such as I was allowed to step foot into the palaces of Xerxes, Darius, Tachara, Hadish, Apadana, as well as the palace of one hundred columns.”

  “On one evening of revelry, the Palace of Xerxes was burned to the ground, with its flames spreading to much of the city. We were called to fetch water but saw our leaders adding to the flames when we arrived. Thus we dispensed of the water and found kindling of our own to contribute. Many Greeks viewed the action as revenge for the Persian’s destruction of Athens and the Acropolis one hundred years earlier. Others saw Alexander’s actions as a confirmation that he did not intend to remain in Persia and we would all see our homes again someday. Most believers in the latter view would be sorely mistaken.”

  “The Persians deserve everything they got from Alexander for their previous invasion of Greece!” Argos interrupted. Leandros ignored the outburst and continued.

  “In early spring, the Achaemenid summer capital of Ecbatana became Alexander’s goal in his campaign to capture Darius and conquer the remaining Persian Satrapies. It was rumoured Darius fled the Battle of Gaugamela with his surviving generals to the Median city and Alexander’s scouts confirmed the Persian King’s presence attempting to organize and raise another army from his eastern Satrapies using Ecbatana as a base of operations. Among Darius’ generals with him in Ecbatana was Bessus, a royal family member and Satrap of Bactria. Bessus had commanded the Persian left flank at Gaugamela. On our march to the summer capital, we learned Bessus had Darius killed and proclaimed himself the rightful successor to the Persian throne. He anointed himself Artaxerxes V and retreated east to Bactria where he attempted to raise an army amongst his allies in familiar territory. Alexander was outraged by this act of regicide and gave Darius’ remains full funerary honours. Bessus now became the primary target of our army. Ecbatana submitted without a fight and Alexander utilized the city as a communications centre and treasury to store the Persian fortune looted from Susa and Persepolis.”

  Upon leaving Ecbatana, Leandros now entered a world completely unknown to us. The world he had just taken us through was barely recognizable other than a vague familiarity with names of large Persian cities. Veterans of the eastern campaigns were only now beginning to return to their homes and filling in the details of Alexander and the east. Leandros had a rapt audience and we all felt we were receiving knowledge reserved for the Gods.

  “We pushed further east past the riches of Media and into the rugged regions of Parthia and Aria, pursuing the imposter. Bessus was not in a strong position, however, since most of the empire was defeated and his standing in Bactria was severely diminished. Spitamenes, a tribal war lord from Sogdiana, a wild land north of Bactria inhabited by Scythians, eventually arrested Bessus and presented him to Alexander, who promptly had the pretender brutally killed according to the Persian punishment for regicide.”

  “So were you in any battles?” asked Nearchus’ brother, Argaeus, impatiently.

  “Let him tell the story,” chided Nearchus’ mother.

  “Yes, I’ll get there,” Leandros reassured. “To this point, however, I had not really seen the violence of warfare. We had marched for months and the only action the army had seen since my enlistment were by some scout forces. Some of the new soldiers worried that Alexander had already defeated all of our enemies and we would never see combat. That all changed, however, when we entered Bactria and faced the Scythians.”

  “We crossed the Oxus River and passed through the surprisingly large and bustling city of Maracanda, where we reached the northeastern most limit of the former Persian Empire. Alexander wished to shore up his northern boundary along the Jaxartes River in Sogdiana and it was here, at the northern edge of the world, that I saw the human potential for unbelievable violence, as well as the true military genius of our King.”

  “The Scythians were a frustrating enemy to both our army and to the Persians before us. They could mass a cavalry force quickly, conduct a targeted strike, then disappear into their wild, uncivilized country to the north. Alexander induced them to stand and fight at the Jaxartes by exploiting their urge to avenge the Scythians’ historic defeat by the Macedonians under Alexander’s father, Philip II- resulting in the death of the infamous Scythian King Ateas. Alexander also allowed the Scythians to think they had the tactical advantage over our army. The Scythians cannot be blamed for believing this ruse, however, since most of our lower-level commanders believed it to be true as well.”

  “The Scythian enemy, led by the warlord Satraces, took up position on the opposite bank of the Jaxartes River and intended to fire upon us with his archers as we crossed before meeting us en masse at the opposite bank. I had never been more scared in my life stepping onto an unsteady raft made of wooden planks and inflated cow skin- readying to face a massive force of barbarians screaming as they waited to butcher us on the other side. I was able to suppress these fears and present a stoic appearance- however others did not fare as well. I could hear faint whimpering from several members of my syntagma and two individuals vomited next to me, which brought the wrath of our lochos’ commander, the lochagos.”

  Nearchus and I looked at each other with a smile during Leandros’ description; this truly was a hero’s tale not properly conveyed in his letters home to us over the years. Argos remained statuesque, with an underlying look of immense pride on his face. Our mothers displayed overemphasized gestures of concern as if they were painted on an urn or performing a pantomime routine.

  “Alexander ordered the Macedonian army to cross en masse, which prevented the Scythians from overwhelming us at any one point with their artillery. Their archers and bolt weapons were too few to effectively stop the mass crossing. The sight of tens of thousands of Greeks fording the Jaxartes River at the northern edge of the world was awe inspiring. The Scythians loosed their arrows on us and never had I seen the sky become so engulfed by instruments of violence as it did then. They began landing all around me, making a low pitch whistling noise. Some hit our upright sarissas and lost their lethal trajectory, others grazed helmets, cuirasses and limbs, leaving nicks, scrapes, and full impalements. Shrieks began crying out as unlucky phalangites were hit in their shoulders, necks, faces, arms, and chests. One arrow grazed my shoulder, another ricocheted off my helmet and I worried I would not be able to summon the necessary fighting spirit to meet a rested enemy on the opposite shore. Our lochagos’ recogniz
ed our demoralized state and began encouraging us and screaming profanities to the enemy, which emboldened many of us to join in- some out of frustration in our situation, others out of sheer terror.”

  “Just as I was beginning to curse Alexander for sending us to inevitable slaughter, his military genius was revealed. He had kept our siege engines and archers hidden in the rear on our side of the river and now unleashed a torrent of death upon the heads of our enemies. It was a remarkable spectacle to behold overhead, with arrows and bolts heading towards us and flaming boulders, arrows and bolts raining down on the enemy, all passing each other directly above us. Our barrage of projectiles overwhelmed our foes, who began pushing back off the river bank to escape our fury. Alexander’s actions not only created a large buffer for us to safely land on the other side of the river, it also heavily diluted the number of arrows and bolts the enemy could muster in their attack. Now we all felt the momentum and morale shift and the river became a sea of blood-curdling screams by thousands of Greek soldiers praying to Ares for a chance to cross the river alive and meet the Scythians in battle. Our raft reached the opposite bank and we disembarked to see a demoralized and retreating enemy before us. It became clear that the Scythian cowards were going to withdraw into their rotten, barren country only to fight us again at another time and place of their choosing. Here again, Alexander showed his strategic mastery by clandestinely sending a large detachment of mounted spearmen to cross the Jaxartes several miles downriver and ride round behind the enemy to prevent them from escaping as he knew they would. This flanking action successfully held the fleeing Scythians in a fixed position, allowing the infantry to close with and massacre them.”

  It seemed as though Leandros was going to end the narrative of the battle at this point without further elaboration. Nearchus, Argos, and I at once implored him to give us more details. It was clear he did not want to go into the particulars of combat but understood the enthusiastic mood his story had engendered in his audience and indulged us.

  Once the majority of the army had disembarked, our commanders ensured we were in proper formation before advancing- despite everyone’s eagerness to charge a fleeing enemy. The commander of our phalanx, General Craterus, called the phalangiarch, controlled his various taxis, each commanded by a strategos, utilizing various horns and flags. I finally saw the fruits of my endless training when the entire Phalanx formed on the opposite side of the Jaxartes and began marching forward as one. The front lines of the enemy facing us were in a state of confusion, owing to their inability to retreat, which was being obstructed by Alexander’s flanking cavalry. The importance of morale and momentum cannot be overstated in pitched battle and our commanders continuously rallied us to a fevered state as we marched towards the disordered Scythians.”

  “Because I had shown promise through our march to Sogdiana, I was placed fourth in our lochos column, which meant my spear point was part of the initial teeth bourn by the front five rows of our Phalanx. Our lochagos was first in the column, with junior officers at the eighth and sixteenth positions for best control of the men. The enemy soon accepted retreat was not possible and hurried to form a cohesive front line to face us. They were dressed in thick, long-sleeved tunics, some ornately decorated with polished metal. The Scythians wore long trousers and high boots. Their heads were adorned with a helmet that tapered up to a point, with flaps hanging down to protect their ears and neck. Their facial appearance was that of a barbarian with long, dense beards and bushy eyebrows. I could see individual faces now as we neared battle. Both sides were letting out shouts of bloodlust as our skirmishers began loosing their projectiles, which added to the enemy’s confused state. The Phalanx maintained a steady, deliberate march forward as the barbarians ran at us like a disorganized murderous mob. As the two armies joined battle, I felt a jolt back, as if two mountains had collided and our forward momentum ceased. I began hearing the shrieks of impaled men and the violent cacophony of screaming and shouting every obscenity known to the Gods. My sarissa point had not yet reached the enemy despite our front line inflicting heavy initial damage. Shortly after the impact, my lochos mates began pushing me forward and it felt as if I were holding up all the men who were behind me. The only thing keeping me from falling over was the amount of weight I was now exerting on the phalangite in front me. This crush of inertia continued to the lochagos in front who had the unenviable task of leaning forward and advancing on our enemies. Our syntagma began lurching forward. We took several hardy steps forward to where I could see the point of my sarissa within striking range of enemy soldiers that had survived the opening charge. Despite being many feet away from the foe, I wound my sarissa back slightly and thrust a precise blow to the chest of a Scythian who was preoccupied engaging a Macedonian on the front line. After the initial impact, I felt his legs give out from under him, which forced the front of my sarissa down as he fell, trapping my spear in between his ribs. I had to give several vigorous pulls to free the point from his corpse. As I did so, I saw another Scythian within range and, in one motion, I released my spear from the corpse and rammed its point into the stomach of the second barbarian. He hunched over the spear point as well but this time I pulled it back before his weight could force it down again.”

  “Sensing the enemy was losing heart, our army took several more steps forward and I now found myself in the second position within my lochos due to my lochagos being injured and the soldier behind him being killed. As we moved forward, we began trampling over fallen Scythians. Some were still clinging to life as they were trampled by the Phalanx. My boots became saturated with a foul concoction of sweat, blood, vomit, bile, gore, piss, and shit as various bodies lay beneath us with their stomachs speared open and their bowels released. The smell is now what I remember most. The excitement of the moment, coupled with the stench of death, overwhelmed my faculties, forcing me to vomit on the heels of the phalangite in front of me. Being in the first position and engaged in heavy fighting, he did not notice this transgression. After vomiting I became extremely dehydrated and my mouth completely dried up. I began panting and struggled to find breath. Wounded Scythians were clawing at my feet, trying to stand themselves up to avoid being crushed. This forced me to begin violently stomping in their skulls with my heel as we continued to march forward. I caved in several Scythian skulls in this manner and, to this day, can recall the way that wicked act felt under my feet. The battle continued in this way for another hour, with me impaling several more Scythians and incrementally moving forward over the slain corpses until our line finally met the flanking Macedonian cavalry and the battle was won.”

  Leandros now attempted to end his account of the battle, but I insisted that he describe what happens after such a battle is won. My sentiment was shared by the other males of the audience and Leandros reluctantly continued.

  “Once the battle is over, all captured enemy survivors are taken prisoner. For non-Greek barbarians such as these, the army will keep most of the officers for ransom and murder the rest. This ignominious task is unfortunately reserved for the lower ranks of infantry such as me. After the hostilities ended, our syntagma commander keeps the unit together. The wounded Greeks are carried off, prisoners are guarded and enemy wounded are murdered where they lie with a sword thrust to the throat or back of the head. The syntagma commander then decides which of the enemy officers will be ransomed and has them bound and taken to the rear. He then commands his lochagos’ to produce men to promptly murder the remaining prisoners. Some enjoy this task, others incrementally lose their soul with each sword thrust, but disobeying direct orders is unthinkable. I can still remember looking into the eyes of these condemned men just as I stabbed them in the heart or throat. The dead bodies and baggage train are then looted for valuables, although Scythians do not have much by way of baggage trains. Alexander surveyed the carnage’s aftermath and personally congratulated those identified to him as having distinguished themselves in battle. He then went right into erecting defences and laying
the foundation for a new city, Alexandria Eschate- ‘the farthest.’”

  “During this time, Alexander had dispatched a contingent to quell a small rebellion led by the barbarian Spitamenes- the same barbarian who had delivered the imposter Bessus to Alexander several months earlier. The warlord ambushed and annihilated this detachment and exploited his success by waging a year-long insurrection against the inadequately garrisoned Greek cities and forts of Bactria and Sogdiana. Spitamenes now became Alexander’s primary target and we waged a hard campaign against the warlord who relied on his Scythian roots through hit-and-run attacks, feints, and tactical retreats rather than standing to face our army in open contest. The army was frustrated, but Alexander meticulously established fortified positions and tribal alliances along the Bactrian-Sogdiana frontier. His tireless efforts eventually succeeded in isolating Spitamenes, forcing open combat between the brigand and a contingent led by Alexander’s general Coenus at Gabai, near Marakanda. Coenus’ forces defeated Spitamenes, which eliminated all support he enjoyed from tribal leaders and his Scythian allies. Spitamenes’ head was delivered to Alexander by his surviving followers shortly after the battle as a gesture of repentance for siding against the God King. The defeat of Spitamenes signalled the end of organized resistance within the Persian territory and the Persian Empire was totally defeated. Spitamenes’ daughter, Apama, was later bequeathed to Alexander’s general Seleucus, Commander of the Silver Shields.”

  “There were hopes within the ranks that we would return home, or at least back to Babylon, soon after Alexander’s victory over Spitamenes and his successful conquest of the Achaemenid Empire. The Persian Empire was not enough for the greatest general in history however, especially when another great civilization, rumoured to be even wealthier, lay so tantalizingly close…India- the fabled land visited by Dionysus and Herakles. We endured a gruelling winter in Bactria and made ready for the campaign the following year. The men began to grow weary of another conquest so far from their homes. The defeat of Persia had made many among the army rich and their mettle began to soften. The more inexperienced soldiers wished to push on so they too could become weary of combat due to the accumulation of great wealth. Sensing this sentiment, Alexander gave a rousing speech where he declared ‘nothing to be more slavish then the love of pleasure and nothing more princely than the life of toil.’ He finished this speech by burning his own baggage accumulated since leaving Ecbatana. His words and deeds inspired the men to do the same, who then pleaded with him to continue his conquest to the ends of the earth.”