Read Alexander (Vol. 2) Online
Authors: Valerio Massimo Manfredi
Alexander (Vol. 2) (43 page)
‘My noble Lord,’ replied the Egyptian, ‘I thank the gods that they have sent such an intelligent and reasonable man with whom it is possible to discuss matters in a realistic manner. I have a considerable quantity of money deposited at Sidon, and, if we can reach some agreement, I will provide you with a version of the facts with which you might be able to convince Commander Ptolemy.’
‘The best thing for everyone is if you tell me the truth,’ repeated Callisthenes without taking the bait.
‘Let’s just say that I decided to go self-employed and, given my contacts, the Great King thought I might be able to return to Anatolia and convince the governors of a few cities to reopen their harbours to the Persian fleet and . . .’
‘And cut us off from Macedon.’
‘Would fifteen talents be enough to persuade you of my innocence?’
The historian stared at him with an inscrutable look on his face.
‘And another twenty for Commander Ptolemy?’
Callisthenes hesitated slightly before replying, ‘I think that will do fine.’ Then he left the tent and went straight to Ptolemy.
‘The quicker you do it, the better for all concerned,’ Callisthenes said. ‘Apart from being a spy, he also holds a certain number of rather embarrassing secrets regarding the Queen Mother and . . .’
‘That’s enough,’ said Ptolemy. ‘Not another word. What’s more, I’ve never really liked Egyptians.’
‘You might have to rethink that one,’ replied Callisthenes. ‘Before long you’ll be meeting lots of them. Rumour has it that Alexander wants to take Egypt.’
F
ROM
D
AMASCUS
,
WHERE HE
had been ordered to march as quickly as possible, Parmenion sent a message saying he had occupied the royal quarters and taken possession of the Great King’s monetary reserves and his entourage:
Two thousand six hundred silver talents in coin and five hundred
minae
in ingots, more than three hundred and fifty concubines, three hundred and twenty-nine flute and harp players, three hundred cooks, seventy wine-tasters, thirteen confectioners and forty perfume makers.
‘By Zeus!’ exclaimed Alexander when he had finished reading. ‘That is what I call living!’
‘I also have a personal message to relay to you orally,’ added the messenger after the King had rolled up the letter.
‘Speak. What is it?’
‘General Parmenion wants you to know that there is a noblewoman in Damascus who will come back with him together with her two children. Her name is Barsine.’
Alexander shook his head as though unable to believe what he had just been told. ‘It’s not possible,’ he murmured.
‘Oh yes,’ replied the messenger. ‘The general told me that an old soldier will bring you the password, if you don’t . . .’
‘I see,’ Alexander interrupted. ‘I see now. You may go.’
*
Eight days went by before he saw her, a period which passed as slowly as an eternity. His head spun as he watched her ride by on horseback in the midst of the soldiers, in the procession of the royal entourage, surrounded by two rows of
hetairoi
from Parmenion’s guard. She was wearing Scythian trousers made of leather and a grey felt jacket, her hair was gathered up at the back of her neck, held in place with two pins, and she was, although it seemed impossible, yet more beautiful than she had been when they first met.
Her face had acquired a slight pallor and her features were sharper now, so that those great dark eyes stood out even more and shone with an intense, vibrant light, as bright as the stars.
He went to her much later on, when the camp was already steeped in the silence of the first watch. He wore only a short military
chiton
, on his shoulders he carried a cloak of grey wool, and he had his arrival announced by a handmaid.
She had taken a bath and had changed her clothes – now she wore a long Persian gown which reached her feet and which clung lightly to her figure. Her tent smelled of lavender.
‘My Lord,’ she murmured, lowering her head.
‘Barsine . . .’
Alexander moved a few steps closer. ‘I have been waiting for this moment since the last time I saw you.’
‘My soul is full of grief.’
‘I know – you have lost your husband.’
‘The best of men, the most affectionate father, the sweetest husband.’
‘He was the only enemy I have ever respected, and perhaps the only one I have ever feared.’
Barsine kept her eyes low because she well knew that she was Alexander’s prey now, she knew that the enemy’s woman was the most prized reward for the victor who had fought through the pain and the wounds, the fatigue and the horror of the blood, the shouting, the massacre. But she had also been told that this young man had displayed pity and respect for the old Queen Mother, for Darius’s wife and his children.
Alexander put out his hand and gently touched her chin, lifting her head so that he looked into her gaze and the changing colours of her eyes. He saw the intense blue of a clear sky, the blue that had been there in Memnon’s eyes. He also saw the dark colour of death and the night and he felt himself being drawn in, as though into a dizzying vortex, as though he had looked upon a god or some creature of fantasy.
‘Barsine . . .’ Alexander repeated her name, and the sound of his voice vibrated with the deepest passion, a burning desire.
‘You may do with me what you will, you are the victor, but I will always have the image of Memnon before my eyes.’
‘The dead live with the dead,’ replied the King. ‘I am before your eyes now and this time I will not let you go because I have seen in your eyes that you want to forget death. And this time I am life for you. Look at me. Look at me, Barsine, and tell me that I am wrong.’
Barsine did not reply, but she looked him straight in the eyes with an expression that was both despair and confusion at one and the same time. Two enormous tears shone in her eyelashes like the purest springwater; slowly they ran down her cheeks and stopped to moisten her lips. Alexander moved closer until he could feel her breath on his face, until he felt her breasts against his chest.
‘You will be mine,’ he whispered. Then he turned suddenly and left. A moment later there came the sound of Bucephalas neighing, an excited drumming of hooves and then the hammering of a reckless gallop that tore through the silence of the night.
*
The following day Callisthenes received another letter in code from his uncle. It arrived with the messenger who brought mail from Antipater in Macedonia.
I have discovered the whereabouts of the daughter of the man who calls himself Nicander, Pausanias’s accomplice in the assassination of Philip. The child is under the protection of the priests in the temple of Artemis on the border with Thrace. But the priest is of Persian origin, a relative of the Satrap of Bithynia, who in the past has sent money and fine gifts for the sanctuary. This makes me think that Darius himself is connected with the killing of Philip and, unbeknownst to anyone, I have been able to read a letter which is kept in the temple and which would seem to suggest that this hypothesis is most likely.
Callisthenes went to see Alexander.
‘The investigations into your father’s death are continuing and there is important news – it would seem that the Persians are directly involved and that they are still protecting someone who took part in the conspiracy.’
‘This would explain many things,’ said the King. ‘And to think that Darius dares to send me a letter of this kind!’
He handed Callisthenes the message from the Great King which an envoy had just brought.
Darius, King of Kings, Lord of the Four Corners of the Earth, Light of the Aryans, to Alexander, King of Macedon, Hail!
Your father Philip was the first to offend the Persians back in the time of Arses, although he himself had suffered no affront at our hands. When I became king, you sent no embassy to confirm the old friendship and alliance, and then you invaded Asia, inflicting great damage. I therefore was obliged to face you in battle, to defend my land and to reconquer my ancient dominions. The outcome was that which the gods decided, but I write to you now as one king to his peer and ask you to free my children, my mother and my wife. I am willing to sign a pact of friendship and alliance – please send an envoy together with my messenger in order that we may draw up terms for the treaty.
Callisthenes closed the letter. ‘In essence he blames it all on you, justifies his right to defend himself, while admitting the defeat, and states he is now willing to become your friend and ally as long as you release his family. What will you do?’
At that moment Eumenes came in with a copy of the reply that he had prepared for the King; Alexander asked him to read it. The secretary cleared his voice and began:
‘Alexander, King of Macedon, to Darius, King of Persia, Hail!
Your ancestors invaded Macedon and the rest of Greece, bringing us great harm with no apparent reason. I have been elected supreme commander of the Greeks and I have invaded Asia to avenge your aggression. You assisted Perinthus against my father and you invaded Thrace, a territory which is ours.’
Alexander stopped him at this point. ‘Add the following now:
King Philip was assassinated as the result of a conspiracy which you supported and the proof exists in letters you have written.’
Eumenes looked at both Alexander and Callisthenes in surprise and the historian said, ‘I’ll explain later.’
So Eumenes continued:
‘Furthermore, you took the throne fraudulently, you bribed the Greeks to make war and you have done everything to destroy the peace I struggled so hard to construct. I defeated your generals and I defeated you on the open battlefield with the help of the gods and I therefore am now responsible for those of your soldiers who have come over to my side and those other persons who are still with me. It is you, therefore, who must address me as Lord of Asia. Ask whatever you deem right, either in person or sending your envoys. Ask for your wife, your children and your mother, and you will have them, if you convince me I should give them to you. In the future, if you wish to address me, you will address the King of Asia, not your peer, and you will have to ask for whatever you desire from he who is now in possession of everything that was previously yours. If you fail to do this, I will take measures in your regard, measures against someone who has violated the rules and the laws of the nations. If, however, you continue to claim your right to the throne, then do battle, fight to defend your throne and do not flee, because I will follow you everywhere.’
‘You don’t leave him much choice,’ said Callisthenes.
‘No, none at all,’ replied Alexander. ‘And if he is a man and a king, then he will have to do something about it.’
T
HE ARMY SET OFF
southwards at the beginning of the winter, towards the Phoenician coast. Alexander indeed had decided to complete a total conquest of all the ports that were still accessible to the Persians, so as to prevent any enemy action in the Aegean and in Greece as well.
The people of Aradus greeted him with full honours and Sidon even promised to withdraw its fifty ships from the imperial fleet and turn them over to him. Excitement in the Macedonian camp was at fever pitch – it was as though the gods themselves were clearing the way before the young leader and the expedition seemed to have become a journey of adventure to discover new worlds, new peoples, and magnificent places.
The rest of the Great King’s entourage which Parmenion had captured at Damascus arrived at Sidon – an incredible assembly of slaves, musicians, cooks, food-tasters, eunuchs, masters of ceremonies, dancers, flautists, magicians, seers, conjurers, all of whom were most bizarre for Alexander’s soldiers and his officers. The King, however, gave them all a very warm and understanding welcome, concerning himself with what was to become of them, asking about their personal affairs, and making sure they were treated with respect.
Just when it seemed that the entire court had paraded before the King and his companions, another small group arrived, escorted by a division of Agrianians.
‘We found this lot in the headquarters of the Satrap of Syria,’ explained the officer in charge.
‘But I know this one here,’ said Seleucus, pointing to a stout figure with a crown of grey hair around his bald head.
‘Eumolpus of Soloi!’ exclaimed Ptolemy. ‘But what a surprise!’
‘My Lords! Sire!’ the informer greeted them as he prostrated himself before them.
‘Well, well, well . . . it’s a strange thing indeed, but I’m beginning to suspect something,’ said Perdiccas ironically.
‘Me too,’ added Seleucus. ‘So this is how Darius managed to take us by surprise at Issus. Tell us, Eumolpus, how much did he pay you to betray us?’