By the Sword

by Christian Kachel

  I gauged we were twelve hundred feet from the enemy when we began moving and I could not see whether they were now moving towards us as well. Someone then yelled out, “Missiles!” which was followed by several arrows zipping through our forest of pikes. Most were deflected by our sarissas, causing them to lose their deadly trajectory and flail off our helmets and linen cuirasses. Other arrows were loosed with greater skill which caused them to descend on our phalanx at almost a straight vertical trajectory. These well-placed projectiles rained down into phalangite shoulder blades, chests, and even a few through the helmet. None landed in this way near me but I could hear screams, some faint, and some frighteningly loud, of soldiers being struck by these warheads.

  We continued our march forward and the front line of our phalanx was now closing with the enemy. The dust saturated everything and I could only hear the savage battle being fought fifteen ranks in front of me. As our armies joined, our momentum ceased and sarissas from both sides entangled like a wooden grinder of flesh. I could hear the screams of men being impaled while others roared with aggression as if Ares had possessed them. I could hear the lochos officers of the eighth rank shouting orders and encouraging the men. Gelon and his counterparts at the sixteenth position continually shouted for us to keep moving forward, to keep our formation tight, and to keep pushing. Because I could not see anything in front of me, I began focusing on our right flank, where General Eumenes and the heavy cavalry were positioned. While the momentum of the phalanx slowed to a stalemate, it appeared our heavy cavalry was making notable gains. They were now in front of our phalanx on the right flank and giving chase to the fleeing enemy cavalry. This sight encouraged the men but did not translate into further forward momentum. The enemy phalanx was now using their raised terrain to their advantage, which effectively halted any forward progress by our foot soldiers and began moving our phalanx back. The constant din of screams and weaponry slamming against armour was the most disturbing noise I had ever heard. Both generals chose their positions on the field well and the battle would be determined by who best leveraged their advantages.

  The bloody stalemate lasted another hour and the enemy succeeded in moving our phalanx back several feet. I noticed Stephanos and I had moved forward in our column in comparison with many to our left and right, pointing to our column losing a number of men. Screams from the front signalled their phalanx was besting ours and I now began fearing a sarissa point slamming through our rear ranks at any moment. Just as Gelon was becoming more and more frenzied in his appeal for us to hold the ground we were cumulatively losing, General Apollonides could be seen leading his heavy cavalry towards the enemy’s left flank like a well-thrown spear into the side of the enemy formation. Our heavy cavalry smashed into the left flank of the enemy phalanx, which caused unbelievable destruction and prompted their retreat. The enemy phalanx was trampled, impaled, and routed by our heavy cavalry. Our lochos officers now screamed at inhuman decibels to move forward and seize the momentum. We took several robust steps forward and I began walking over the first of the corpses- both enemy and friendly. Their skulls were caved in from being trampled, their torsos showed signs of impalement or slashes. Some eyes were out of socket, some stomachs were emptied. The macabre carcasses all contributed to soaking the ground with a slippery, reddish-black bile whose smell burrowed into my nasal cavity. I could smell it in between breaths. I could taste the smell in my mouth. It permeated the battlefield, making my stomach sick.

  The momentum had swung completely in our favour, thanks to General Eumenes’ seizure of the enemy’s baggage train and the flanking manoeuvre by General Apollonides, prompting a full retreat and surrender of Neoptolemus’ forces as they stood huddled in a mass of terrified confusion. As they capitulated, our army continued to encircle them and an uneasy truce was reached. Emissaries from the defeated foe were sent to discuss the terms of the surrender which greatly favoured Eumenes due to his cavalry’s successful capture of the entire contents of their accumulated wealth and families. General Eumenes reached the following agreement with the defeated army: the indigenous Armenian forces would return to their Satrapy and serve the new Satrap to be installed by Eumenes; the Macedonian soldiers and Greek mercenaries would join our army; the non-Greek mercenary officers would be ransomed and the non-Greek mercenary soldiers would be killed. It was later learned Neoptolemus fled the field at the site of Apollonides’ cavalry charge with a small contingent of his bodyguard.

  It took another hour for the enemy army to be divided and all weapons to be seized from the non-Greek soldiers as per the terms of their surrender. The Macedonians, other Greeks, and Armenian contingent were all segregated separately under armed guard while our army singled-out non-Greek officers from non-Greek regulars. Stephanos and I were still bystanders to all of this activity while our syntagma stood in formation. Once the non-Greek officers were removed, all that remained were non-Greek regulars from the barbarian territories north of Armenia such as Pontus and Scythia. They numbered about two thousand and were completely disoriented by the massive isolation efforts conducted after their defeat. Drakon, covered in blood and dirt, then called several names forward. Stephanos and I were included. As I looked around the assembled lot, I realized we were all the most inexperienced soldiers of the phalanx. We spotted Bacchylides and Spear amongst our contingent and made our way towards them. As we did so, Croesus pulled Stephanos and I aside and gave us words of encouragement while assuring us the coming bloodshed would be good for our development.

  Drakon assumed the head of our mob and shouted, “Line up! You have been chosen to eliminate the remainder of our enemy. Do not get ahead of each other in the formation and remember your training. If I see anyone hesitate in this duty I will kill you where you stand and you will die with the rest of these filthy barbarians. Leave your sarissas here, you will retrieve them when you’re finished. This work is personal and requires the short sword.” With that Drakon moved behind the line of new recruits and ordered us to begin our march forward into the mob of barbarians whose escape was blocked by a full taxis formation to their rear. Our staged battle was of immense entertainment to the rest of the army. Soldiers took bets on the bravery of this recruit or that. lochagos’ used it as a test to determine the soldiery of their untested men. The spirit of our line was strong, with some doing all in their power to not sprint ahead of the formation and bury their sword into the skull of an unarmed barbarian.

  I remember feeling uneasy listening to Leandros recount this practice and now felt it cheapened our impressive victory while doing nothing to bring honour and respect to the recruits. We neared our unarmed enemy and Stephanos, sensing my internal doubts, yelled over the low roar to me, Spear, and Bacchylides, “Don’t treat this any differently than warfare. These barbarians will take your sword and kill you with it if you let your guard down. Let us show our commanders that we four our better than this menial task so the next time we are closer to the battle and are not in need of artificial experiences to test our mettle!”

  Stephanos’ words strengthened my resolve as we closed with the enemy. Some of the victims mustered their courage and charged at our line bare-handed. Others retreated to delay the inevitable, causing mayhem within the condemned contingent. I wondered to myself which way I would be running if I were in their situation. The first man I came into contact with violently lunged at me, trying to grab my sword by its sharpened edge, slicing his palms and fingers. He was larger and stronger than I but I managed to brace most of his inertia with my shield while frantically stabbing at his hands, further lacerating them. His enraged scream made me wince as he tried to rip my shield from me with his blood-soaked hands. I exploited this opening by stabbing him low in his side, producing seeping black bile from a punctured organ. He instinctively covered the wound with his hand, allowing me to stab him directly in the chest. My blade got caught within his ribs however and I struggled to pull it back as another barbarian punched me in the side of the face and began biting my s
word arm. I let out a scream which alerted Stephanos to my predicament. My assailant’s eyes and mouth instantly opened past the point of normalcy while his entire body convulsed. I looked to my right to see Stephanos had stabbed him directly in the back of the neck, severing his spine and dispatching him immediately. Stephanos removed his sword and the corpse collapsed to the ground in a vicious death spasm.

  The charge of courageous victims had run its course and all that remained were the multitude of men trying to escape. I looked to my left to see Bacchylides hacking these manic escapees with utter merriment, even laughing at times as blood spattered on his face. Spear was coldly dispatching them with the perfect proficiency his impressive physique evoked. We were now walking over the dead and dying with puncture wounds in their chests and hack wounds on their arms. Many were still alive and writhing in an orgy of agony at our feet. As we moved forward, soldiers were stomping their skulls in with their heels and repeatedly stabbing them to ensure no one escaped our wave of death. One victim began clawing at my legs, digging his nails into my skin. I instinctively picked my leg up as if I had stepped on a nail and brought my heel down on his temple with a violent force that surprised even me. I felt his skull fracture and my heel slightly sunk into his head. I will remember that grotesque feeling for the rest of my life. I dispatched another crawling in my path with a brisk stab to the throat.

  I caught up to my first escaping victim with his back still facing me, instinctively attempting to push his way to the back of the mob to escape the slaughter. I stabbed him to the left of his spine which forced him to reach for the wound and fall to his knees. I then hacked the side of his head, feeling my blade break his skull and cut through part of his brain. I killed several more in this dishonourable manner until I reached the last of the men who had nowhere left to retreat. Many fell to their knees, putting their hands out crying for mercy, cursing us in unknown languages or praying to unfamiliar deities. We hacked at their outstretched hands and forearms before stabbing them in the throat and chest.

  There were others, however, who didn’t act craven when faced with imminent murder. They stood or sat very still and looked their assailants directly in the eye, as if daring us to kill them in this most shameful of manners. One now stood before me and I could not hold eye contact with him. I felt his appearance and demeanour superior to me and I hesitated in delivering the death blow. I didn’t think myself worthy enough to kill this man, so I yelled to my immediate left for Bacchylides to do the ignominious deed. Bacchylides apparently did not have the same scruples as I and hacked his neck several times until his head became detached from his body. His eyes never left me during this gruesome ordeal and he never let out a scream. I looked at his eyes but not into them during his murder and felt he had defeated me. Even as his head lay severed on the ground it looked directly into my eyes, causing me to look away. Few victims remained in front of me now and I dispatched them with anger and vigour until I had reached the other taxis blocking the victims’ retreat. As our line of murderous recruits completed our dishonourable task, the army cheered for us as if we had lost our combat virginity.

  We were all exhausted after the ordeal and my arm was both fatigued and pained due to deep bite marks. Drakon allowed us to pillage the bodies for loot, but these pathetic corpses held very little of any value. After about fifteen minutes, Drakon called us back into formation, where General Eumenes congratulated his victorious forces with a very abrupt appearance and speech. I was not close enough to hear it, but the veterans did not seem impressed with his words or his command presence in front of the formation. No one could deny he had led a brilliant victory, however, and that was most important.

  Chapter 16

  That night General Eumenes kept in the Greek tradition of celebrating a battlefield victory. He had much to celebrate, for his victory was absolute with little loss of life to our army. The only blemish on the triumph was the failure to capture or kill Neoptolemus, who cravenly bolted from the field at the sight of Apollonides’ cavalry charge against his left flank.

  The veterans of our army drank heavily around large campfires that evening, allowing myself, Stephanos, Spear, Bacchylides and even Dracham to enjoy each other’s company without being hassled by our lochos’ to perform menial tasks. Spear and Bacchylides’ prior disdain for one another appeared to have dissipated with time, allowing the five of us to bond over shared hardship and glory. Just as the veterans were retelling inflated tales of the day’s battle, our merry band recounted our tertiary role in the victory. We all willingly forgot our adversaries were unarmed as Bacchylides reenacted the execution of one of his victims while mimicking their expressions of terror to the enjoyment of all. Stephanos recalled his part in saving me from a barbarian cannibal looking to bite off my arm which produced wild laughter and a demand to see the wound.

  Croesus gingerly made his way over to our band with a jug of wine. We all shut up and stood at attention. “Evening sir,” Stephanos and I delivered in unison.

  “At ease, at ease,” responded Croesus with a faint slur. “Who are these three?” Croesus asked, pointing at Bacchylides, Dracham and Spear.

  “They are our mates from recruitment,” replied Stephanos.

  “Did they participate in today’s victory?”

  “Yes sir, they were directly left of Andrikos.” Answered Stephanos. “They served honourably, killing many barbarians.”

  “Then the five of you popped your cherries tonight. I brought you a jug of wine to share. Enjoy with your mates then make your way to our lochos fire where you will be officially recognized and accepted into the unit. You three,” Croesus snapped, addressing Spear and Bacchylides, “I suggest you do the same.”

  “Yes sir!” replied the three in unison.

  As Croesus stumbled away, Stephanos and I each retrieved cups from our tent area nearby and distributed them amongst our band. Once libations were poured we put our cups up, not quite knowing exactly what to drink to. Bacchylides put forth, “to victory,” but Stephanos overruled the suggestion with, “to Labdacus.” We all sincerely honoured our fallen friend and finished off the jug feeling we were invincible in the coming campaign against Antipater. Our officers’ intent to strengthen our resolve by including us in the slaughter of barbarians did have its intended effect. Tonight was the first time I had thought of Labdacus since his death and it was clear that Stephanos had not forgotten our little mascot either. Thinking of him now made me nauseous with pity, so I deliberately put his memory from my mind for the remainder of the evening.

  The five of us departed to our respective lochoi, where Stephanos and I found the veterans’ intoxication had reached a fever pitch. Three women had been procured either by local vendors or from the contingent of entrepreneurs following our army’s movements. They did not appear to be in good shape, nor did they seem to be enjoying their evening assignment. Drunk, rough men, too intoxicated to climax, were taking turns with them as they were bent over makeshift tables near our fire. They were being forced to drink wine while being continuously ravaged. One lay still and internalized her discomfort, one let out muttered moans of displeasure after each thrust, the last was crying softly. The scene playing out before me did not arouse any desire to join in.

  Stephanos and I approached Croesus as ordered, who promptly called out our presence to the rest of the lochos. We were received with drunken cheers and pats on the back from our mates in the same manner as we once did with Labdacus. To the veterans, we were a sort of mascot. More wine was provided to us and Stephanos was escorted to the front of the line to take a turn on one of the women for the veterans’ amusement. I felt fortunate that I was not immediately chosen, for I had no desire to partake, yet refusing such a demand was not an option. Stephanos, not yet being drunk, competently accomplished his task to the delight of the lochos. I wondered how he could display such empathy for Labdacus and seemingly none for the poor girl. He no doubt knew he was being ordered by the lochos to participate and therefore declin
ing on moral grounds would ostracize him from our unit; however, if these were his thoughts, he hid them well.

  The rest of the night was a blur as more wine was consumed, songs were sung, respect to the fallen was paid, women were taken, and oaths were sworn. There was not a morning formation the following day, as most were hungover, with some vomiting out the sides of their tents. I woke up not remembering the last two hours of the night and feeling sick. Croesus walked through our bivouac, looking unwell, to ensure his men were all still alive. He informed us our first formation would be at noon after he had attended the syntagma staff meeting.

  I drank some brackish water, splashed the remainder on my face, rinsed out my mouth, squared away my tent area and readied my equipment for orders to pack up and depart. Stephanos was still sleeping when I received permission from Croesus to visit the surgeon’s tent to return my wrist brace and have my bite wounds looked at. My walk through our encampment saw soldiers in varying states of biliousness. Everything was being done at half-speed.

  The surgeon’s tent, however, was a sea of activity. The casualties from the battlefield that survived the night were being tended to by several field surgeons. Before seeking out Philotheos, I walked through the bay of cots while ensuring to stay out of anyone’s way. I saw several injuries of a gruesome nature and bandages covered in blood, brownish bile and greenish-yellow puss. Hideous stab wounds and lacerations were freshly stitched. The ground beneath my feet was saturated in all manner of bodily fluids, which creating a vile stench. Some patients were crying out in pain, others were drugged with Apollinarix, a powerful sedative and pain reliever made from Black Henbane. Some patients looked scared, others weakly awaited death. Philotheos spotted me and called me over to him.