Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy) (54 page)

‘Alalalài!’
shouted the horsemen, lifting their spears and raising their cry to infinity, while the last rays of the sun were extinguished in the flaming Ocean waves.

‘Allow me to mention Onesicritus as well,’ added the admiral, nodding to his pilot to step forward. ‘He has proved himself to be a great mariner.’

‘Hail, Onesicritus,’ Alexander saluted him. ‘I am most glad to see you.’

Hail, Sire,’ replied the helmsman. ‘I too am glad to see you.’

‘I am sorry,’ continued Nearchus, ‘but we do not have much to offer you. We have fished all day, but our catch is poor. There are, however, a couple of tuna fish and they are on the grill as we speak.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ replied the King. ‘I have a surprise for you all, although I am afraid it won’t arrive until tomorrow.’

‘If it’s what I think it is, I can’t wait!’ exclaimed Nearchus. ‘Did you know that one day we attempted an incursion into some villages along the coast? And do you know what the loot was?’

‘No, but I think I can guess.’

‘Fish meal. Sacks and sacks of fish meal. Those poor wretches had nothing else.’

‘We know all about it.’

They went into Nearchus’s tent and shortly afterwards Ptolemy, Hephaestion, Seleucus and the others arrived.

‘Look,’ said Nearchus, showing them a roll of papyrus open on a makeshift table. ‘Onesicritus drew this map of our course from Pattala down here.’

‘Splendid,’ said Alexander, running his finger along the interminable desert coast where the vice-admiral had written the name ‘Ichthyophages’.

‘Fish-eaters,’ Hephaestion repeated. ‘You can say that again. Along there even the goats stink of fish. It makes my stomach turn just thinking about it.’

‘You cannot imagine how worried we were after we lost contact with the fleet,’ said Alexander.

‘Just as we were,’ replied Nearchus. ‘The fact is that it was not easy to slow down to wait for you and when we did so there was never any sign of you. Perhaps you were ahead of us, or behind us. There was no way of telling.’

‘The fish is ready,’ announced one of the sailors.

‘And it doesn’t smell too bad,’ said Seleucus.

‘I think we’ll have to sit on the shore to eat,’ said the admiral. ‘There aren’t many dining beds and tables on board my ships.’

‘We’ll manage,’ said Perdiccas. ‘Hunger is hunger, wherever and whenever it comes.’

At that precise moment, just when everyone was moving off to sit down to supper, laughing and joking, the trumpets sounded the alarm.

‘By Zeus!’ exclaimed Alexander. ‘Who on earth dares to attack us now?’ He unsheathed his sword and shouted,
‘Hetairoi,
follow me! Mount your horses! Mount your horses!’

Soon the camp resounded with trumpet blasts and the whinnying of the horses, the defensive palisade was opened and the squadrons prepared to charge out and deal with the enemy incursion. Indeed, a storm-like cloud of dust could be seen advancing threateningly towards them and in the midst of it they could make out metal weapons and shields.

‘But they’re Macedonians!’ shouted a sentry.

‘Macedonians?’ asked Alexander in amazement as he blocked the charge of the
hetairoi
with a gesture.

There followed a moment in which all that could be heard was the noise of the galloping horses as they neared the camp. Then the sentry’s voice rang out once more in the tension-filled silence, ‘It’s the wine!’ he exclaimed. ‘Eumenes has sent the wine with a squadron of assault troops!’

The tension collapsed into oceanic laughter and the assault troops paraded through the camp amidst the general applause of their companions, each of them carrying two bottles satchel-like across their horses’ backs.

‘So, is there anything to eat round here?’ asked Leonnatus, dismounting and unlacing his breastplate.

‘There’s plenty to eat,’ replied Nearchus.

‘And to drink, by Zeus!’ laughed Alexander. ‘Thanks to our Secretary General!’

They sat down on the warm sand and the sailors began serving the fish.

‘Fillet of tuna Cypriot style!’ announced a sailor from Paphos pompously. ‘Speciality of the house.’

Everyone tucked into the food and the conversation soon livened up because they all had their own stories to tell – stories of hardships and dangers, of storms and dead calms, of night attacks and marine monsters, stories of friends who for a long time they had worried they would never see again.

‘Where do you think Craterus is?’ Alexander asked at a certain point. And for a long moment all the Companions looked one another in the face, in silence.

C
RATERUS REACHED
S
ALMOUS
with his army two weeks later and the exultation of Alexander and the Companions knew no bounds. The celebrations continued at length and when the army eventually set off on its march once more, the King wanted them to carry on. He had special carriages constructed and gave orders for dining beds and tables to be installed on them so that all the Companions lay there eating, drinking and laughing. The soldiers too were allowed to drink as much as they wanted from the wine supplies that followed the convoy.

Kalanos rode on one of the carriages and the King and his Companions all travelled with him to listen to his teachings.

The territory all around resounded with celebratory singing and chanting. This was no longer an army that advanced towards the heart of Persis, this was now a Dionysian
komos,
a procession in honour of the god that liberates the human heart from all struggles through the joy of wine and merriment.

In the meantime Nearchus had left with his fleet after having carried out the necessary repairs and loaded up the holds with everything required for a long voyage. They went through the Straits of Hormuz and entered the Persian Gulf, heading in the direction of mouth of the Tigris. The meeting was to be at Susa, which could be reached by means of a navigable canal. At long last the hard times were behind them and the sailors rowed with renewed vigour and manoeuvred the rigging and the sails deftly, impatient to bring their adventure to an end and to be able to tell their loved ones all about it.

There was just one moment of tension for the fleet when out of the waves, not far from the flagship, great jets of spray appeared, followed by the glistening-wet backs of gigantic, shining creatures that immediately submerged again, waving their enormous tails out of the water.

‘But . . . what are they?’ asked the Cypriot sailor who had prepared supper for the King and his Companions on the beach, evidently terrorized.

‘Whales,’ replied the Phoenician boatswain who had sailed beyond the Pillars of Hercules. ‘They pose no threat to us at all, as long as we don’t ram them, because all it would take is a single blow from that tail and . . . goodbye flagship. They could swallow it up in a single gulp!’

‘I prefer tunny fish,’ stammered the sailor. He asked again, truly worried, ‘But are you sure they won’t attack us?’

‘One can never be sure of anything at sea,’ replied Nearchus. ‘You ought to know that already. Return to your post now.’

*

Alexander’s army continued its march along the road that led to Pasargadae and there the King discovered that Cyrus’s tomb had been violated – the sarcophagus had been opened and the Great King’s body dragged out. He interrogated the magi who had been in charge of looking after the grave and had a trial held to try to find the culprits, but not even under torture did any of them offer any information. He let them all go, gave orders for the tomb to be restored to its original state and set off once more towards Persepolis. In the meantime rumours had spread that the King had returned and this news threw many satraps and even many Macedonian governors into considerable confusion because they had all been sure that he was dead and had all made the most of every opportunity to indulge in all sorts of stealing and looting.

Alexander saw the state to which the imperial palace had been reduced by the frightful fire that had destroyed it – only the stone columns and the gigantic entrance portals rose out of the enormous expanse of smoke-blackened and mud-covered ground. The gemstones had been prised from the reliefs, the lumps of precious metal that had melted during the fire had been stripped away. The only thing that recalled in some way the greatness of the Achaemenids was the flame burning before the funeral monument of Darius III.

The King thought of Stateira whom he had not seen for such a long time now, and he wondered if she had received the letter he had sent from the banks of the Indus. He wrote to her again, telling her that he loved her and that he would meet her at Susa.

One evening, some time later, while he was resting together with Roxane on the veranda of the satrap’s palace, a visit was announced and a bald, stocky man was shown in, a man who immediately greeted him with a broad smile.

‘My King, my boy, you have no idea what a pleasure it is to see you once more. But . . . where’s the dog?’ he added looking around suspiciously.

‘Eumolpus of Soloi . . . there’s no need to worry, Peritas is no longer with us. He died in India, saving my life.’

‘I am sorry,’ replied the informer. ‘Even though he didn’t find me very agreeable. I know you loved him very much.’

Alexander lowered his head. ‘Bucephalas is dead, as are many, too many friends. It has been hard going. But where have you come from? I’d given you up for dead – you disappeared into thin air without saying a word and I had no news whatsoever.’

‘If it comes to that, I’d given you up for dead as well. And I’m not the only one. As for my disappearance, it’s quite normal. Once I realized what you wanted from me I set off at the first favourable opportunity without a second thought – a good informer never lets anything out regarding his own movements, not even to the person who has commissioned his work.’

‘If I know you,’ said Alexander, ‘you’re certainly not here just for the pleasure of seeing me once more.’

Eumolpus handed him a scroll. ‘Indeed. In your absence, my King, and, if I remember well, in full accordance with your wishes, I have been your eyes and your ears. I never forget those who have treated me well and you trusted me and you saved my life when everyone wanted to have me executed. There are things written in here that will not please you: it is a complete list of all the rum doings, the stealing, the corruption and violence committed by the satraps and the governors, Macedonians included, during your time away. There is also a list of all the witnesses you may interrogate, should you wish to begin trials against these people. The man in charge of the royal treasure, for a start, that cripple . . . Eumenes’ friend

‘Harpalus?’

‘That’s the one. He has taken five thousand talents from the coffers, enlisted six thousand mercenaries and is now marching towards Cilicia, if my latest information is correct. I believe he is currently dealing with some of his Athenian friends, men who are not exactly enamoured of your own good self

‘Demosthenes?’

Eumolpus nodded.

‘Where do you think he is heading?’

‘Athens, probably.’

At that moment Eumenes entered with an expression of deep embarrassment on his face.
‘Alexandre,
unfortunately I bring terrible news! I don’t know where to start, because . . . in a certain sense it’s all my fault.’

‘Harpalus? I know already,’ and he nodded across to Eumolpus who was sitting quietly in a corner and had done nothing to bring himself to Eumenes’ attention. And I know of many other things, all of them thoroughly unpleasant. This is what must be done: you will immediately verify the allegations made in this document against the people mentioned, whether they be of Macedonian, Persian or Median race. After that, you will instigate all the necessary trials. The Macedonians, if found guilty, will be sentenced by the assembled army and the verdicts will be carried out with full respect for our traditional rites.’

‘And Harpalus?’

‘Find the lame bastard, Eumenes,’ ordered Alexander, pale with indignation, ‘wherever he may be. And have him killed like a dog.’

Eumolpus of Soloi stood up. ‘It seems to me that we have said all there is to be said.’

‘Indeed. Eumenes will pay you handsomely.’

Eumenes nodded, even more embarrassed now.

‘It is not your fault,’ Alexander said to him as he got to his feet. ‘You have never betrayed my trust and I know that you will never betray it.’

‘I thank you, but this does not alleviate my disappointment.’

He left the room and as he walked away through the corridors of the palace he met Aristander. The seer had a strange light in his eyes, a look of madness, and did not greet him. Perhaps he did not even see him.

The seer entered Alexander’s room and the expression on his face, so full of anguish and astonishment, struck the King profoundly.

‘What has happened?’ asked Alexander with the tone of someone who asks while fearing the answer that is bound to come.

‘It is my nightmare. It has returned.’

‘When?’

‘Last night. And one more thing.’

‘Tell me.’