Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy) (15 page)

The city was split in two by the River Euphrates, shining like a ribbon of gold extending from one side of the walls to the other, flanked by gardens and exotic trees of all kinds in which flocks of multicoloured birds were roosting.

Beyond the river, connected to the western part of the city by massive stonework bridges, the royal palaces stood out because of their finish in polychrome enamel tiles, resplendent in the sun with images of fantastical creatures, storybook landscapes, scenes from the ancient mythology of the Land of the Two Rivers.

Not far from the royal palace stood the greatest structure in the entire city, considered to be one of the most impressive wonders in the known world – the Hanging Gardens.

The typically Persian concept of the
pairidaeza
had taken shape here in a completely flat location whose climate was unsuitable for a large tree-filled park. Everything here was artificial, created with notable effort and ingenuity by the hand of man. The priests explained to Alexander that according to the story of the gardens’ origin, a young Elamite queen, having arrived in Babylon as bride to King Nebuchadnezzar, suffered so much from homesickness for the wooded mountains of her homeland that the King gave orders for an artificial mountain to be created and covered with a shady wood and with the most beautiful flowers. That was why the architects had created a series of platforms, one above the other, reducing in size as they increased in height. Each was supported by hundreds of stonework pillars carefully covered in asphalt and linked by curved vaults, and the huge platforms which carried all the soil necessary to allow the bushes and the high trees to root and flourish were also asphalted. Many birds, even nocturnal species, started nesting in the trees and bushes while exotic species, such as peacocks and pheasants, were brought from the Caucasus and far off India. Fountains of all types were created with ingenious machines bringing the water from the Euphrates, which flowed past at the bottom of the wonder.

From the outside it looked like a hill covered with a flourishing wood, but here and there were signs of man’s intervention – terraces and parapets hidden away among the climbing and trailing plants, all of them rich in flowers and fruits.

It moved Alexander to think that such a wonder had been ordered by a great king to ease the melancholy of his queen, a young woman born in the high, woody lands of Elam, and he thought of Barsine who slept now for ever on her ‘tower of silence’ in the arid desert of Gaugamela.

‘Gods above!’ he murmured as he looked around him. ‘How many wonders there are here!’ and his friends too, Ptolemy and Perdiccas, Leonnatus and Philotas, Lysimachus and Eumenes, Seleucus and Craterus, all looked in amazement at the city which for millennia had been considered the heart of the world and ‘God’s Gate’, as its very name in the local language – Bab-El – actually meant. Vast green spaces opened up between the houses and the buildings, orchards and gardens with all sorts of fruit, and out on the river there were many boats moving agilely through the water. Some of these, made of bundles of reeds and driven by large square sails, came from the estuary areas where the oldest cities of Mesopotamian myth were located: Ur, Kish, Lagash. Others, round in shape, like large baskets and covered with tanned skins, came from the north and brought with them the fruits of those far off lands – produce from the green fields of Armenia, rich in wildfowl, animal skins, wood and precious stones.

The sky, the water and the earth all contributed towards the creation of a universe of harmonious perfection within the great city walls with their imposing crown of towers. Yet Alexander continued to look around in search of another marvel he had heard tale of since his childhood. Indeed, his teacher, Leonidas, had been the first to mention the ‘Tower of Babel’, a mountain of stone and asphalt some three hundred feet high and as wide as that at its base. All the peoples of the world were said to have worked on its construction.

The priest pointed to a huge area that was completely abandoned and covered in weeds, ‘That is where the sacred Etemenanki stood, the tower that touched the sky, destroyed by the Persians in their fury when the city rebelled, at the time of King Xerxes.’

‘The same king who destroyed our temples when he invaded Greece,’ said Alexander. ‘I will rebuild the tower when I return to Babylon.’

That same evening the King celebrated with a sumptuous feast for hundreds and hundreds of guests. All the very best foods and wines and other inebriating drinks were served, and the most beautiful women of all the Orient danced that evening: Medians, Caucasians, Babylonians, Arabs, Hyrcanians, Syrians, Hebrews.

For thirty days behaviour at the banquets, the orgies, the binges was very much out of hand – nothing was denied the soldiers who had won at the Granicus, at Issus and at Gaugamela, the soldiers who had wiped out Miletus, Halicarnassus, Tyre and Gaza. For these same soldiers there was a new and difficult adventure in the offing, a troubled journey with all sorts of trials, ordeals and tribulations.

One evening Alexander had retired to the ‘summer palace’ to cool off a little when Perdiccas asked to see him.

He still had bandages around his torso, covering the wounds he had received on the fateful day at Gaugamela, and in his eyes there was a strange expression that might have been either drunkenness or melancholy.

The King asked him, ‘How are you, Perdiccas?’

‘I am well, Alexander.’

‘You asked to speak to me.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And what do you have to say to me?’

‘Your sister, Queen Cleopatra, has been a widow for more than a year now.’

‘Unfortunately.’

‘I love her. I have always loved her.’

‘I know.’

‘How do you know?’ Perdiccas asked him, slightly embarrassed.

‘I know and that’s enough.’

‘I have come to ask for her hand.’

Alexander remained silent.

‘I have dared too much, have I not?’ Perdiccas asked, his eyes liquid, almost completely lost. ‘But I would never have found enough courage to ask you without first getting drunk’

‘Was it “Hercules’ Cup”?’

‘That’s it,’ nodded Perdiccas.

‘The fact is that—’

‘What?’ asked Perdiccas, pathetically anxious, waiting for his reply with his mouth open.

‘That Ptolemy has also asked for Cleopatra’s hand.’

‘Ah.’

‘And Seleucus.’

‘As well . . . no one else?’

‘No one else, apart from Lysimachus, Hephaestion and . . . yourself, obviously.’

‘By any chance Parmenion too?’

‘No, he hasn’t.’

‘Just as well. In any case I don’t have any hope.’

‘If you want me to tell you the truth, I think you must be the only one to have asked to marry Cleopatra because she is the woman you love, rather than because she is Alexander’s sister. However, this in itself is not enough. Still not enough time has passed since the death of Alexander of Epirus, and in any case the man who marries her will have to prove himself to be the worthiest, willing to face any risk, any sacrifice, and to bear ordeals and pains that not even you can imagine.’

Perdiccas had become sufficiently sober to feel like crying and he replied, ‘But have I not already faced all these things for you?’

‘No more than your companions. However, the most difficult part is yet to come, my friend. In twenty days’ time we will set off on our march again to conquer this empire, to follow Darius to the farthest provinces, and then we will return to this city. It is when we return here that I will know who is the worthiest. Go now, get yourself a beautiful girl, there are so many of them, and have a good time because life is short.’

Perdiccas moved off and Alexander turned to the great flower-filled balcony that opened up over the city, out towards the river glowing with a thousand lights and towards the sky teeming with shining stars.

D
URING HIS STAY IN
Babylon, Alexander dedicated much time to the organization of the new provinces and the new administration, and the drawing up of his plan of action for the following year. One evening he summoned all his companions and the entire war council to the summer palace where the unbearable heat of these lowlands was slightly tempered by an occasional breath of wind, especially towards sunset.

‘I want to let you know about my plans,’ he began. ‘During the first year of our campaign I decided to occupy all the ports, so as to exclude the Persian fleet from our seas and to render a counter-invasion of Macedonia impossible. Now we will take all of the capitals in the empire, so that it is clear that Darius’s reign has come to an end and that all of his possessions are in our hands. Babylon is already ours and now we will take Susa, Ecbatana, Pasargadae and Persepolis. All that is left for Darius is to seek refuge in the far eastern regions, but we will follow him there until we capture him.

‘And there is another reason for taking the capitals – money. Darius’s treasures are all kept in his capitals and with this wealth we will send aid to General Antipater who has to fight in Greece against the Spartans, and who has to deal with my mother on a daily basis, which is perhaps even more demanding.’

His companions all laughed and even Peritas, who was there with them, started barking loudly.

‘Then we will be able to sign up more mercenaries and equip the new recruits who will soon be with us. General Parmenion will set off northwards with the Greek allies, three battalions of the phalanx, one squadron of the
hetairoi,
the supplies and the assault engines. He will reach the Royal Road and proceed along it to Persepolis. With the rest of our forces we will move up into the mountains to take the passes and to free the territory of the final Persian garrisons. It will not be easy because the snow is already falling up in the mountains.

‘So enjoy yourselves now while you can, but make sure you gather all your strength because this will be no laughing matter.’

After they had all left, Eumolpus of Soloi came in and Alexander took hold of Peritas by the collar because he immediately started growling.

‘I have done everything as you requested, Sire,’ began Eumolpus. ‘I have made arrangements for one of my men to go to Susa to make sure that the royal treasure does not disappear. As far as I know it’s worth thirty thousand talents in coin and ingots, as well as all the precious objects that adorn the palace. The young man’s name is Aristoxenus and he knows what he is doing. If he should ever need to contact you he’ll use the usual password.’

‘Skewered thrush,’ repeated Alexander, shaking his head. ‘Listen, this might be the right time to change it. At the moment there are no imminent dangers that might justify such an absurd password.’

‘Too late, Sire. Aristoxenus is already on his way. We’ll change it next time.’

Alexander sighed and held Peritas while Eumolpus, light footed as usual, dissolved into thin air through the corridors of the palace.

Shortly before leaving, Eumenes took some money from the royal coffers, leaving it in the hands of one of his Macedonian collaborators – Harpalus, a man who had never fought in any battle because he was crippled. Throughout the campaign he had earned a reputation as being very well versed in economic management. Alexander knew him well because as a boy he had spent time at the palace in Pella even although he had not been able to take part in military exercises because of his disability.

‘He ought to do a good job,’ said Alexander. ‘I think he has his wits about him.’

‘I think so too,’ replied Eumenes. ‘He has always been a good lad.’

*

They set off again towards the end of the summer, after having reconfirmed Mazaeus as Satrap of Babylon and leaving a Macedonian garrison to safeguard the defence and the safety of the province. They proceeded up the Pasitigris, a tributary of the Tigris which flowed down through the Elam mountains. The landscape was beautiful – rich in green pastures with many flocks of sheep and herds of cows grazing, and in that area there grew all types of fruit trees, including the wonderful
persica
with its velvet skin and its incredibly juicy and tasty flesh. There was also plenty of sun-dried fruit such as figs and prunes.

It took the army six days’ march to come within sight of Susa, and Alexander recalled the enthusiastic description of the Persian guests who had been visiting Pella many years before, when he was still just a boy. The city stood on a flat area, with the Elam mountain chain as a backdrop, the high peaks already covered with snow, their slopes green with firs and cedars. It was huge, surrounded by walls and towers decorated in shining tiles and with its battlements all decorated in silver – and gold-plated studs.

As soon as the army began approaching, the gates opened and a troop of splendidly dressed horsemen appeared, escort to a dignitary who wore a soft tiara on his head and an
akinake
at his side.

‘This is most certainly Abulites,’ Eumenes said to Alexander. ‘He is the Satrap of Susiana and he intends to surrender. Aristoxenus, Eumolpus’s man, told me last night. By all accounts all of the treasure – or at least most of it – is still held in the city.’

The Satrap came nearer, dismounted and bowed before Alexander in the traditional Persian show of homage: ‘The city of Susa welcomes you in peace and opens its gates to the man Ahura Mazda has chosen as successor to Cyrus the Great.’