Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy) (8 page)

Callisthenes placed the box he had been given in his personal chest, which he then locked. He then washed his hands in a basin and put bread, cheese, and some grilled fish and oil and salt on the table.

‘How is my old uncle?’

He is well,’ replied the man as he bit into the bread after having dipped it in oil and salt.

‘What was he up to last time you saw him?’

He was leaving Mieza and heading towards Aegae. And with the bad weather on its way.’

‘So his investigation continues,’ said Callisthenes, almost to himself.

‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing . . . nothing,’ said Callisthenes shaking his head. He sat for an instant observing his guest who was tucking into the food and then asked, ‘Has there been any news regarding Philip’s assassination? I mean, any rumours in Macedonia?’

Hermocrates stopped eating, swallowed what he had in his mouth and sat there in silence with his head bowed.

‘You can trust me,’ Callisthenes reassured him. Anything you may say will go no further.’

‘They say it was Pausanias, that he was acting on his own initiative.’

It was clear to Callisthenes that the man did not want to speak, and he also understood that his question had rattled him somewhat.

‘I will give you a letter for my Uncle Aristotle. When are you setting off again?’

‘With the first ship I find.’

‘Good. I leave tomorrow with the King. You may stay here in this house until you find your ship.’

Callisthenes picked up his pen and began writing:

He dusted the papyrus with ash, shook it, rolled it and handed it to Hermocrates. ‘I leave at dawn tomorrow and so I will take my leave now. Travel well and safely and tell my uncle that I miss his advice and his wisdom very much.’

‘I will do so,’ replied the man.

The following day the army set off followed by the royal caravan with the women of Darius’s harem, the Queen Mother and the concubines with their children. Barsine travelled with them and tried as best she could to help Sisygambis, now a very old woman.

East of the Vale of Orontes, before they reached the banks of the Euphrates, Hephaestion’s messenger met them and asked to be taken immediately to Alexander.

‘Sire,’ he announced, ‘we have constructed the floating bridge and we have taken the eastern bank of the Euphrates, but the Persians are torching all the villages along the road to Babylon.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘My own eyes have borne witness: as far as I could see everything was ablaze, even the stubble in the fields. The whole plain was like a sea of flames.’

‘We must go then,’ said the King. ‘I am anxious to see what is happening.’ He took two squadrons of cavalry and set off at a gallop together with his companions for the ford at Thapsacus.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
, before midday, Alexander crossed the floating bridge, followed by his companions and his cavalry. Hephaestion and Nearchus came to meet him.

‘Have you spoken with our messenger?’

‘I have. Is the situation truly so serious?’

‘You may decide for yourself,’ replied Nearchus, and he pointed to the columns of smoke rising everywhere around them.

‘And to the east?’

‘You mean off in that direction? As far as we know, there is nothing happening in that direction – no damage, no razed earth.’

‘So Darius is waiting for us on the Tigris. These fires are clearer than any written message: the southern route is the same one Xenophon’s ten thousand took seventy years ago, not without considerable difficulties in finding supplies. Now, with the villages and the harvest destroyed, it would be completely impossible. We have no choice but to take the second route, the one that leads to the ford across the Tigris and the King’s Road.

‘Darius will wait for us there and it is there that the final battle will take place. And to help us he has cleared the way, allowing us to replenish our supplies in the villages which stand on the foothills of the Taurus Mountains.’

‘And we will accept the invitation, is that not so, Alexander?’ asked Perdiccas, stepping forward.

‘Indeed, my friend. We must prepare ourselves now because from tomorrow our march begins – in six days’ time we will be at the meeting point with the greatest army of all time.’

Parmenion was watching the columns of black smoke rising into the air above the horizon and he said nothing; soon he moved away in silence.

Ptolemy watched him as he went, ‘The general does not seem to be so keen, does he?’

‘He is getting on now,’ said Craterus. ‘He really ought to go home.’

Philotas was nearby and overheard these comments, ‘My father may well be old, but he is worth more than the rest of you put together!’

Hold on, calm down!’ said Seleucus. ‘Craterus was joking.’

‘Well then he can joke about someone else, because next time . . .’

Has anyone seen Eumolpus of Soloi?’ Hephaestion asked, just to change the subject.

‘I think he’s behind us with the women’s caravan,’ replied Seleucus. Why, what do you want of him?’

‘Nothing: I simply have to deliver a present. See you all soon,’ and he leaped on to his horse and set off to where the women’s camp was being pitched. He found Eumolpus sitting outside his own tent, being attended to by a pair of eunuchs – one was wafting him with a fan while the other was serving a meal on a small well-laid table.

‘I don’t want to hear any stupid allusions to the sad events surrounding my imprisonment,’ said the informer as soon as he saw Hephaestion dismount before him.

‘Don’t worry, I’m only here to deliver a present.’

‘A present?’

‘Yes, a present from an enemy. I was actually thinking of letting Alexander know about it. In my humble opinion if we were to squeeze your balls in an olive press then we might just hear some interesting stories from you.’

‘Shut up, snot-nose, and let me see what this is all about.’

Hephaestion handed him the statuette. Eumolpus studied it carefully: An enemy you said? And who might this enemy be?’

‘The Satrap of Babylonia – Mazaeus. He’s a real bigwig, if I’m not mistaken.’

Eumolpus said nothing and continued scrutinizing the statuette and then, suddenly, he raised it above his head and struck it sharply against the edge of his table, shattering it into small pieces. Lying there was a small roll of papyrus, thickly covered with cuneiform lettering.

‘Scheming with the enemy – things don’t look good for you, Eumolpus.’

Eumolpus of Soloi rolled up the note, stood up and set off on foot towards the military camp.

‘Hey! Where are you going?’

‘To look for someone capable of thinking.’

‘Mind you don’t get your arse bitten off . . . Peritas is around somewhere!’ shouted Hephaestion. The informer did not even turn round, but his right hand instinctively moved to cover the area mentioned.

He found Eumenes in the commissariat tent, making an inventory of equipment, weapons and materials. With a gesture he let the Secretary know that he wanted to speak to him and Eumenes immediately left the registers to an assistant.

‘What’s new?’

‘A message from Mazaeus.’

‘The Satrap of Babylonia. By Zeus!’

‘And the Great King’s right-hand man.’

What does he have to say?’

‘He is willing . . . to help us on the battlefield, providing we agree to reconfirm him in his position as governor of Babylonia.’

‘Do you have any means of replying?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell him we agree.’

‘But he will want some form of guarantee.’

What kind of guarantee?’

‘I don’t know . . . a message from the King.’

We can manage that. In the past I have written letters in Alexander’s hand and with his seal. Drop by my tent tonight and I will give you everything you require – but take that wig off for Zeus’s sake, if you want to keep your rear end intact. Peritas is around somewhere with Alexander.’

‘I’ve already been warned about that,’ replied Eumolpus as he regretfully relieved his bald head of its embellishment, placing the wig in his bag. ‘He’s already chewed up a fur beret that was worth a small fortune. If he corners me I’ll throw him the whole bag.’

He moved off and soon all that could be seen was his bald head shining under the sun as he walked away.

*

The army began moving eastwards the following day, keeping the mountains of Armenia to the left and the desert to the right. The officers leading the march had recruited some local guides because there were neither maps nor descriptions of the routes to be taken in crossing these lands. Indeed, as they advanced these officers made use of their own instruments and portable drawing boards to create maps that were as accurate as possible.

They travelled in six stages, each consisting of five parasangs, crossing over the Syrian Araxes after two days and then continuing through a burned, semi-desert area. Occasionally they came across herds of wild donkeys, of gazelles and antelopes, grazing among the few thorny bushes. A couple of times on the third night they heard the roar of a lion resound like thunder across the immense emptiness of the landscape.

The horses whinnied and began kicking, trying to free themselves of their shin straps, and Peritas woke up suddenly, barking furiously and trying to run off in the direction of the strong, penetrating smell of the beast.

Alexander calmed him down, ‘There there, Peritas, good boy. We have no time now for hunting. Come on, go to sleep . . . sleep now,’ he stroked and scratched the Molossian behind the ears until he lay down once again.

The following day they saw some ostriches, and even came across some nests with eggs in them – both ostrich eggs and bustard eggs. The cook held them up to the sunlight, saw that they were freshly laid, and gathered them all to use them for supper that evening. Alexander asked him to keep a few shells intact, so as to send them to Aristotle for his collection.

Hephaestion, however, was hankering after some fresh meat, and he organized an ostrich hunt together with Leonnatus and Perdiccas. They took twenty or so Agrianian and Triballian shock troops with them, armed with bows and arrows and javelins, but they soon realized it was no easy feat. The clumsy-looking birds in fact ran at incredible speeds, opening out their wings, holding them upwards and using them like sails to exploit the force of the wind. No horse could ever catch up with them.

As the hunters returned – tired, empty-handed and humiliated – Alexander greeted them and shook his head.

‘Come on then, spit it out?’ Hephaestion said angrily.

‘If you had read the
March of the Ten Thousand,
as I have, then you would know exactly how one hunts an ostrich. Xenophon was a great hunter, do not forget this fact.’

And what exactly was his technique?’

‘In stages. One group follows the birds, driving them towards a certain area where other groups of horsemen are waiting in staggered groups. As the first horses tire the group stops and hands over the chase to the second group which sets off at full speed, then the third group and so on, until the ostriches, exhausted, slow down and then you simply surround them and finish them off

‘We’ll have another go tomorrow,’ replied Hephaestion.

‘In the meantime we can take some consolation in the eggs,’ said Alexander. ‘Apparently they are excellent both fried and hard-boiled, with salt and oil.’

‘And then there are the feathers as well,’ added Perdiccas. ‘They’ll look fine on my helmet. Just look at this! There are lots of them scattered all over the desert – it must be the moulting season.’

The following day and the day after that no ostriches came into sight, almost as though someone had warned them that the hunters had perfected a new system.

The army set off again without meeting a living soul, apart from the fifth evening when a couple of caravans from Arabia, carrying incense, camped at a respectful distance from the armies. Aristander asked the King to buy as much incense as possible because the gods would have to be honoured sufficiently, given the fact that the decisive battle was nigh.

On the evening of the sixth day, Alexander led Bucephalas to drink from the fast-flowing waters of the great River Tigris.