Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy) (32 page)

‘I am from Eunostos, a village in Lyncestis, Sire,’ the young man managed to stammer.

‘You have saved my life. Thank you. I will give orders that you be rewarded for your loyalty. But tell me, how did you know that someone wanted to kill me?’

‘Sire, I had spoken of this with General Philotas, who will certainly have told you that—’ he stopped suddenly and looked around, somewhat lost, seeing the expression of surprise on the King’s face and on the face of all the King’s companions.

The Secretary General was also there, Eumenes of Cardia, and he came forward and clapped Cebalinus on the back, ‘Come, my boy, let’s go. You must explain everything to us, from the very beginning.’

Upset and also excited by his role as saviour of the King, Cebalinus recounted every detail of the conspiracy and how he had warned Philotas who had promised to inform the King immediately.

When he had finished, Eumenes clapped him on the back once more and said, ‘A fine lad, you have served us all well. King Alexander grants you with immediate effect the title of Commander of the Royal Squires, with all the income and the honours the rank brings with it. He also wishes to make a gift of one talent of silver, which you may keep or send, in part or completely, to your family. Go now, go and rest – this has been a most trying day for all of us.’

The boy was still excited as he took his leave and ran immediately to his friend Aghirios to give him the news, already experiencing a taste of the pleasure he would draw from giving orders and inflicting punishments on all those companions who had previously made fun of him and bullied him.

Alexander immediately signed arrest orders for the commanders Simmias of Neapolis, Limnos of Calestra, Polemon and Attalus of Andromenes, Aristarchus of Poliakmon, Agesander of Leucopedion and also for Philotas, General of the
Hetairoi,
as well as for Prince Amyntas of Lyncestis. Then he went to his rooms in the palace and gave orders that he was not to be disturbed by anyone.

Seleucus, Ptolemy and Eumenes decided to speak to Hephaestion, the only person Alexander might receive at such a dramatic moment, and they went to see him that evening, in his quarters.

‘Try to find out what his intentions are,’ said Eumenes.

‘Especially with regard to Philotas,’ added Seleucus.

‘I’ll try to speak to him. I have never seen him in such a state, not even when we were in exile and we risked dying of starvation and exposure every day.’ He was just about to set off when an orderly knocked at the door and handed him an immediate summons from Alexander.

‘Never mind,’ said Eumenes, ‘he’s one step ahead of us.’ All four of them left Hephaestion’s rooms together.

‘What do you think he’ll ask us?’ said Hephaestion.

‘It’s obvious,’ replied Eumenes. ‘He’ll ask us what we think of the conspiracy and above all else he’ll ask us what we think he should do with Philotas.’

‘And what will we say to that?’ Seleucus asked gravely and quietly, as though asking himself.

Perdiccas arrived on horseback at that moment and immediately, on seeing his friends, he dismounted and joined them, leading his horse by its bridle. ‘I would rather take on a lion with my bare hands than say what I think of this affair. Have you all thought about it?’

His friends looked at him and in their eyes Perdiccas read all the anguish and the suffering and the uncertainty that were certainly visible in his own. He shook his head, ‘So you don’t know what to say to him either, am I right?’

They were close to the Governor’s Palace now, guarded by a patrol of
pezhetairoi
together with four Immortals of the Imperial Guard. From the opposite direction Leonnatus approached, his shoulder still strapped up, together with Cleitus the Black and Lysimachus.

‘Only Craterus is missing,’ said Ptolemy.

And Philotas,’ said Eumenes, lowering his eyes.

‘Quite,’ said Ptolemy. They looked at one another without saying anything. They knew that before long they would have to tell the King whether in their opinion one of them – one of the troop with whom they had shared food and hunger, sleep and sleeplessness, joys and dangers, hope and despair – whether one of them should live or die.

Leonnatus broke the silence: ‘I never did like Philotas – he’s conceited and full of himself, but the idea of seeing him cut to pieces in a military execution is a terrible one. Let’s go now, I can’t bear this uncertainty any longer.’

They entered the palace and went to the council room where Alexander was waiting for them, sitting on his throne – pale, with all the signs of a sleepless night on his face. Peritas was curled up at his feet, occasionally lifting his muzzle, hoping to be stroked.

He did not even wait for them to sit down but began immediately: ‘You were all present at the assassination of my father.’

‘That is true,’ said Eumenes, who still carried the event gaping like an open, painful wound to his soul, ‘but it would be a grave mistake to judge these events under the influence of those bloody images. It is not the same thing, it is not the same situation and—’

‘No?’ Alexander suddenly shouted. ‘I was the one who pulled the dagger from his body . . . I was the one whose clothes were stained with his blood . . . I was the one who heard his death rattle. I was the one . . . understand? Me!’

Eumenes realized that there was nothing he could do or say. It was obvious that Alexander was obsessed by the idea of regicide and that he had spent the hours of darkness tormented by the nightmare of Philip’s violent death. At that moment Craterus entered, he too in the darkest of moods.

‘If you have already made your decision,’ said Ptolemy at that point, ‘why have you summoned us here?’

Alexander seemed to calm down somewhat. ‘I have taken no decision as yet, nor will I. It will be the assembled army that will judge, in accordance with ancient custom.’

‘And therefore,’ said Seleucus, ‘we cannot be of much use—’

Alexander interrupted him, ‘If you wish, you may leave, I will detain you no further. I had called you here to listen to your advice and draw comfort from your presence. Six of our most valiant officers, and with them one of our most intimate friends, almost a brother, have conspired to kill me. You were all present, you all saw and heard the squire’s testimony.’

The Black, silent up to this point, now spoke: ‘Be careful, Alexander. You have no proof against Philotas apart from the boy’s testimony.’

‘The boy who saved my life and who in all other matters has told the truth. The three bowmen have confessed under torture and have confirmed Cebalinus’s story. The interrogations were carried out separately, but they all said the same thing.’

‘What do we know of Philotas?’ the Black asked once more.

‘He most certainly knew, yet he said nothing. Do you understand, Black? If it had been up to him then I would be dead already, run through with arrows, my body lying out there in a pool of blood.’ Alexander’s eyes were full of tears as he spoke these words and they all understood that it was not the thought of the weapons destined to enter his flesh that made him cry. It was, rather, the thought that a friend to whom he had entrusted the most important rank in their army after his own, making him the virtual custodian of Alexander’s very person, the thought that this friend had schemed and conspired against him, that this friend had been ruthless enough to envisage the arrows tearing through his flesh, leaving him to die in spasms of agony. At that moment no one failed to notice the pain in his gaze, the tremor in his voice, his hands as they gripped the arms of the throne spasmodically.

‘What have I done to you to deserve this?’ he asked, almost crying. ‘What have I done?’

‘Alexander, we do not—’ Ptolemy sought to reply.

‘You are defending him!’ he shouted.

‘No,’ retorted Seleucus. ‘We simply cannot believe it, even though all the evidence goes against him.’

With the evening shadows a deep silence fell in the room and no one managed to break it, not even Peritas who sat motionless, looking up at his master with his large watery eyes. They all felt too much alone and too far from the happy times of their friendship and their adolescence. Suddenly the days of their dreams and their heroism were so remote and now it was doubt and anguish that kept them company. Now their task was to find some way out of the coils of intrigue, of falsity and suspicion in which they were caught.

‘What do we know of Prince Amyntas?’ the Black asked.

‘He was to be the new King following my death,’ Alexander replied gravely. Then, an instant later, he asked, ‘What do you all think I should do?’

The Black spoke for them all: ‘We have no choice. These are officers of the King’s army, and the King’s army must judge them.’

There was nothing more to say and they all left, one after the other, leaving Alexander alone with his ghosts. Not even Hephaestion was brave enough to stay.

E
UMENES AND
C
ALLISTHENES
went to Alexander before dawn and found him sitting on a plain stool, covered only by a rough Macedonian
chlamys.
It was clear that he had not slept at all.

‘Has he confessed to his treason?’ he asked, without even lifting his head.

‘He bore the torture with incredible courage. He is a great soldier,’ replied Eumenes.

‘I know,’ said Alexander darkly.

‘Don’t you want to know what he said?’ asked Callisthenes. The King slowly nodded his head.

‘At the height of his suffering he shouted, “Ask Alexander what he wants me to say and let’s be done with it!”’

A cut above all things,’ said the King, ‘like a true Macedonian noble. Disdainful as always.’

How is it you have no doubts in this matter?’ asked Callisthenes.

‘There is no doubt,’ replied Alexander. ‘The evidence is overwhelming, and it is confirmed by the killers themselves.’

‘And Amyntas?’ asked Eumenes. ‘Spare him at least. There are no accusations against him.’

He has come under suspicion before. And he was to be King following my assassination. Is that not enough?’

‘No!’ exclaimed Callisthenes with a courage and conviction he had never shown before now. ‘No! It is not enough! Do you want to know why? Do you remember the letter from Darius promising two thousand talents? It was false! It was all false – the letter, the messenger, the conspiracy . . . or rather there certainly was a conspiracy, but it was your mother who organized it, together with Sisines the Egyptian, and their aim was to eliminate Amyntas.’

‘You are lying!’ shouted Alexander. ‘Sisines was a spy employed by Darius and for this reason he was executed following Issus.’

‘Yes, but I was the last person to speak to him; he sought to buy me and to buy Ptolemy. I pretended to accept the offer – fifteen talents for myself and twenty for Ptolemy so that we would keep quiet and corroborate his innocence. I told you nothing and I kept this secret so as not to cause you more anguish and so as not to put you into a situation of conflict with your mother. Olympias has always been obsessed by your succession – it was she who arranged for Eurydice’s young son to be strangled in his cradle, or have you forgotten?’

Alexander shivered as an image of Eurydice covered in bruises came into his eyes, her face scratched, her hair dirty as she clasped her baby’s body to her breast.

A child born of your same bloodline,’ Callisthenes continued, implacable, ‘or perhaps you really do believe yourself to be the son of a god?’

Alexander jumped to his feet as though lashed by a whip and he rushed at the historian with his sword unsheathed, shouting, ‘You have gone too far!’

Callisthenes turned pale as he suddenly realized he had provoked a rage the consequences of which he was incapable of managing, but Eumenes swiftly took up position between the two and the King stopped short at the very last moment. ‘Callisthenes has spoken his thoughts. Do you want to kill him for this? If you want adulators and courtiers who always tell you only those things you want to hear then you have no need of us.’ Then the Secretary General turned to the historian, who was deathly pale and trembling like a leaf, and said, ‘Come, Callisthenes, let’s go; the King is out of sorts today.’

They left and Alexander sat heavily on his stool, bringing his hands to his head as though to contain the stabbing pains in his temples.

‘It’s a nasty business, I agree,’ said a voice behind him, but unfortunately you have no way out. You must strike without any hesitation, even if you have doubts. Perhaps Philotas did not want to kill you, perhaps he wanted to have you kept in custody or to force you to act according to his wishes, putting his trust in his position and in that of his father, but he was certainly involved in the conspiracy and that in itself is enough.’ Eumolpus of Soloi crossed the almost dark room and sat on another stool opposite the King.

‘Did you listen to the other things that Callisthenes had to say?’

‘The story of Amyntas? Yes, but in this case too, can you really be sure? Who was present at the interrogation that preceded the execution of Sisines? No one, as far as

I know, apart from Callisthenes himself, and therefore his story cannot be corroborated. Objectively, Amyntas is a threat; in the Persian court he would have been eliminated immediately. Remember that you are now King of the Persians. You are the King of Kings. However, I don’t really think you will have to stick your neck out: the court will certainly find him guilty. All you will have to do is refuse clemency if anyone should ask for a pardon for him.’