Alexander's Legacy: To The Strongest Read online

  ‘Thank you; you’ve done well.’ Perdikkas threw a purse of gold to the merchant and dismissed him.

  ‘I have one boon to ask before I leave your mighty presence, good sir.’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘When my business here is done, I shall be heading to Sardis in—’

  ‘We all know where Sardis is,’ Alketas again broke in, ‘we conquered it.’

  Babrak bowed and touched his forehead once more. ‘Good sirs, my manners are far inferior to your geography; I forget myself. Where have you not been?’ He turned back to Perdikkas. ‘Would it be possible for you to give me letters of introduction to Menander who is the satrap there and to Krateros who is, I believe, if the rumours are true, in Cilicia, which is…forgive me, good sirs, you all know perfectly well that it is on the way, as you conquered it.’

  Perdikkas shooed the man away. ‘Yes, yes, now be off, we have important matters to discuss; see my secretary, he’ll draft them and I’ll sign them.’ Again it was Seleukos to whom he looked as Babrak withdrew with many bows and much touching of his forehead.

  ‘A big rebellion needs a big response,’ Seleukos said with his customary directness. ‘We need to learn how to control the eastern fringe of the empire and I would suggest that terror and awe in equal measure would be the right tools.’

  ‘So kill them all before they start out in the spring.’

  ‘Then how will you know that you’re killing the right men? If you do that then you would have to kill every Greek in every garrison whether he was planning on deserting or not, which wouldn’t be at all helpful. No, wait until they set out and they have reached their full strength and then kill them all; every one of them, including their women and children. That should send a clear message to everyone in the eastern satrapies as to who is in charge.’

  ‘Peithon’s the man for the job,’ Aristonous said after a few moments of contemplating the massacre that would have to occur if these former comrades were to be deprived of their dream of the sea. ‘They will have to pass through Media, his satrapy.’

  ‘But there may well be upwards of fifteen thousand of them,’ Seleukos pointed out, ‘perhaps twenty. His satrapy army is no more than fifteen thousand. To be completely sure of victory, which we have to be in this situation, he will need an army of twenty-five thousand.’

  ‘Then I will have to lend him the troops,’ Perdikkas said.

  But it was Kassandros who voiced the snag that lurked in the back of all their minds. ‘If you give one man twenty-five thousand troops to intercept and destroy an army of mercenaries, twenty thousand strong, how can you be certain that the man won’t just end up with an army of forty-five thousand? After all, when twenty thousand mercenaries see an army of twenty-five thousand of their former comrades in front of them, they’re not going to charge them, they’re going to surrender to them; so unless they are murdered in cold blood they are going to end up enlisting in the army that was sent to stop them, if only to survive until the next time they get a chance of heading home.’

  Gods, why is everything so difficult? Why can’t I have the empire exactly as Alexander had it? Perdikkas looked around his comrades’ expectant faces. I need to be seen to be making decisions just as easily as he did. ‘Kassandros, get Peithon here to Babylon as soon as he can; it’s just under a hundred leagues to his residence at Ecbatana, using the relay a message can be with him in under two days so he could be here in five. Alketas, see to it that the Greek mercenaries here in Babylon are up to date with their pay; I don’t want any cause for discontent here when they hear about what’s happening out in the east.’ Perdikkas turned to Seleukos as Alketas followed Kassandros out of the room. ‘Start working out where we can strip the troops from to give Peithon enough to stop this.’

  Seleukos got to his feet. ‘Leaving you enough to deal with another event elsewhere should one occur?’

  Perdikkas frowned his incomprehension. ‘Another event? Where?’

  ‘Well, with the way things are, it could be anywhere. Ptolemy, Antigonos, maybe even Krateros, of whom we have had no news for a few months now; who knows what he’s thinking of doing with his ten thousand veterans. Any one of our potential enemies could take advantage of you denuding yourself of too many troops.’

  It should have been me that pointed that out. I must think faster, I don’t want people wondering whether I’m getting out of my depth; if I can’t lead them then who can? ‘Of course leave me enough to deal with something else; I thought you meant there was already another event occurring.’

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ Seleukos said, his face a rigid mask, as he turned and left.

  ‘If you want to keep that very able and ambitious young man’s loyalty,’ Aristonous said, when they were alone, ‘then I would advise you not to pretend that you’ve already thought of something that he suggests or points out.’

  ‘Of course I’d already thought of it!’ Perdikkas snapped. ‘Seleukos is not the only one with brains.’

  ‘No, he isn’t,’ Aristonous agreed, getting to his feet. ‘I possess some as well; and if you wish to carry on receiving my wisdom then I’d suggest you refrain from shouting at me, especially when you’re lying.’

  It was with a face of exhaustion, and a numb feeling within his whole being, that Perdikkas watched his most loyal supporter leave the room at an agitated pace. He tried to stand and call out an apology but the words would not come and, instead, he slumped back into his chair, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. Perhaps it should be me who goes east to deal with the deserters; at least then I’d be doing something that I can do: campaign. Something that I know I’m good at. It took a couple of heartbeats to realise the stupidity of the thought. If I were to go east then there would be no west for me to come back to. So what to do then?

  It was at times like this, when depression, supported by a nagging sense of imminent failure, weighed heavy upon him, that Perdikkas took himself to the place that made all the pressure seem worthwhile. And so it was with a great lifting of his spirits that he walked into the throne-room, now alive with meticulous activity, and beheld Alexander’s catafalque, already fully constructed but bare of decoration. ‘You’ve made progress since last I was here, Arrhidaeus,’ Perdikkas said, beaming with pleasure at what had become his pride and joy.

  ‘Yes, sir; as you can see the roof is now on,’ Arrhidaeus replied, looking up from a plan he was studying. ‘That was the last piece of construction and today we begin the decoration which will take the whole of next year and more; I have started the sculptors on their tasks. Once they finish then it will be the turn of the painters and, lastly, the gold- and silversmiths.’

  Perdikkas felt his depression fading as he surveyed the vehicle ahead of which he would make a triumphant return to Macedon as the custodian of the corpse of a god and the regent of the two kings who are his heirs; this is what would make his position secure. ‘Very good, very good, Arrhidaeus. So we’re still looking at a spring departure the year after next?’

  ‘Provided the mules are all trained in time, then yes. I’m hoping to be ready to leave at the equinox.’

  ‘And that would get us to Macedon when?’

  Arrhidaeus shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell; we would be in Syria a month after we left and then from there it’s difficult to estimate because of the state of the road.’

  ‘Good, good; I’ll get someone to work on the problem. I’ll need to know exactly when I have to leave to be in time for it entering Macedon for the first time. I cannot miss that moment.’

  ‘First of all, you’re going to have to get that thing outside,’ a voice from behind said.

  Perdikkas turned to come face to face with Eumenes, dusty from the road. ‘What are you—’

  ‘Doing here? I’ve come to see you as, once again, you need my help; in return for which I need yours.’

  ‘Why do I need your help?’

  Eumenes pointed at the main double doors to the chamber. ‘Well, for a start, you’re going to need someone t
o point out that you need to enlarge those.’

  Perdikkas looked at the beautiful waxed cedar-wood doors, towering to three times the size of a man. They looked quite big enough to him. ‘Why?’

  ‘If you want to lead Alexander’s funeral cortège in triumph back home, you first have to get the catafalque out of this room.’

  Perdikkas looked again at the doors and then at the catafalque as a sick feeling developed in his stomach. I can’t even do that properly; I’ve ordered the catafalque to be built in a room where the doors are too small to get the thing out. What an idiot! Yet why had no one else noticed? Seleukos, Aristonous, lots of people have seen it; Arrhidaeus looks at it every day. Have they all noticed but say nothing because they’re enjoying a joke at my expense. Are they all laughing behind my back? ‘Arrhidaeus!’

  Arrhidaeus looked up from his plans, startled by the venom in the shout. ‘Yes, sir?’

  Perdikkas walked towards him with menace. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that the catafalque would be too big to get out of the doors?’

  Arrhidaeus stood up to his full height, pulling his shoulders back. ‘I tried to, Perdikkas; I said that I didn’t think we should build it in here but you wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘But I didn’t know that it would be too big.’

  ‘Because you didn’t give me a chance to tell you.’

  ‘But what will we do?’

  ‘That’s your problem; you’re the one who insisted that I should build it in here. I’m building it; you get it out. Now, if you don’t mind, sir, I need to get on with my work.’ With exaggerated finality, Arrhidaeus bent back down to pore over his plans.

  Perdikkas made a move towards him and then checked himself. Stop; you’ve lost enough dignity already.

  ‘A wise choice,’ Eumenes said from behind him. ‘Pointless to alienate him even more, seeing as you were the idiot who insisted on building it in here; he may just end up saying “my arse” to you as that seems to be rather fashionable these days.’

  Perdikkas spun round to face the little Greek. ‘I’m fed up with the sound of your smug little voice.’

  ‘Well, that is a shame, Perdikkas; because I was about to tell you something very interesting that you need to know. However, out of deference to your sensibilities, I won’t. Although I do think you should listen to me; had you listened to Arrhidaeus you wouldn’t be a laughing stock now. But, hey, that’s your decision.’ He turned and began walking towards the rear door of the chamber.

  The little bastard’s right; I’d be a fool not to hear what he’s got to say after he’s travelled so far to tell me. Swallowing what remained of his pride, Perdikkas walked quickly to catch up with Eumenes. ‘I’m sorry, Eumenes.’

  ‘Sorry, are you? Goodness me, I might have to sit down; I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a Macedonian being sorry. How does it feel? Do you need to sit down as well?’

  ‘Very funny. Now tell me what you’ve come to say.’

  ‘Let’s get out into the open where we’re safe from being overheard.’

  ‘Are you sure,’ Perdikkas said as they crossed the great courtyard of the palace complex. ‘Leonnatus is really going to marry Kleopatra?’

  ‘He told me so himself.’

  ‘And she accepted?’

  ‘It was the other way around; she, or rather Olympias, made the offer and Leonnatus accepted. I think that way around it appealed to his vanity more.’

  Perdikkas was in no mood for levity. ‘But this is serious; if he does that then he could claim precedence over me.’

  ‘Of course he would; he would be king.’

  ‘King?’

  ‘Naturally. The army in Macedon as well as his satrapy army, the one that he’s taking with him to relieve Antipatros, would proclaim him as such as soon as the siege of Lamia is lifted and the Greek rebellion in the west crushed.’

  ‘But what should I do?’

  Eumenes sat down on the base of the fountain at the centre of the courtyard. ‘You defend yourself against possible attack without being provocative.’

  ‘You think that Leonnatus would attack me; surely Antipatros would dissuade him as I’m due to marry one of his daughters.’

  ‘But have you yet? At the moment there is no tie of kin between you and him so he wouldn’t feel obliged to hold Leonnatus back should he decide to invade. And, let’s face it, Perdikkas: war is now inevitable – if you want to keep your position, that is. And your life, come to think of it.’

  Perdikkas sat next to Eumenes and contemplated the statement, slowly nodding his head. ‘Antigonos, Ptolemy and now Leonnatus; you’re right, Eumenes, war is inevitable so I would do well to prepare for it.’ He frowned. Is this the event that Seleukos was talking about? Had he already foreseen the conflict between us; us who had once been brothers? Why did they not just accept me as their leader? After all, I have the ring. ‘So you advise that I prepare for a possible attack without being provocative?’

  ‘Oh, so you were listening.’

  Perdikkas gave the Greek a look that caused him to incline his head and hold a hand up in apology. ‘So tell me.’

  ‘The way I see it is like this,’ Eumenes said, taking his time as he formulated his argument in his head. ‘You can forget Ptolemy for now as he’s busy getting a firm grip on Egypt. As for Krateros, no one knows so he is a variable in the arithmetic. However, what you can be sure of is that if Leonnatus were to invade, with or without Antipatros, he would come across the Hellespont into his satrapy and then south, linking up with Antigonos on the way, as he has no love for you as his last communiqué revealed.’

  ‘My arse, yes; I wish we could just forget about that. But you are probably right. So what do I do?’

  ‘You have an army up there waiting for them.’

  ‘But that would be provocative; they could say that it was me who started the war.’

  ‘Not if the army was doing something else, something that didn’t look at all as if it was just waiting to repel an invasion.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like subduing Kappadokia.’ Eumenes raised his hand to stifle Perdikkas’ protest. ‘Think of it: Kappadokia borders both Antigonos in Phrygia and Leonnatus in Hellespontine Phrygia. The Royal Road runs through it so if, whilst you’re defeating Ariarathes for me, you hear that an invasion is imminent, you will be able to move fast along that road to wherever you need to be. And all the time it looks as if you’re pacifying a satrapy rather than planning for civil war. And, for good measure, send an army to settle the Armenian situation; it’s right next to Kappadokia, so could easily reinforce you should you need it.’

  Perdikkas contemplated the matter. ‘Yes, Neoptolemus could do that.’

  ‘I had someone with at least a vestige of competence in mind.’

  Perdikkas shook his head. ‘I need to bind him to me by giving him the chance of some glory. He’ll be fine.’

  ‘No, he won’t.’

  Perdikkas ignored the remark, contemplating instead the beauty of the scheme. I’ll be back doing something that I really can do; I’ll be back in the field leading soldiers. I’ll be able to get my self-esteem back and the respect I’m owed from my peers. Yes, the slimy little Greek is right and so what if he too gains from the deal; the main thing is that I’ll feel better about myself. And, if I install him in Kappadokia, with Armenia pacified, I’ll have someone in the north to look after my interests if I ever have to go south to face up to Ptolemy. And, besides, what else could I be doing whilst waiting for the catafalque to be completed? Perdikkas smiled and clapped Eumenes on the shoulder. ‘You are the slyest of little Greeks.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Perdikkas.’

  ‘And you are also the shrewdest. I’ll do it; I’ll bring my army to Kappadokia for you.’

  ANTIPATROS,

  THE REGENT

  ‘MAGAS!’ ANTIPATROS BELLOWED, straining to make himself heard over the violent clash of a rare assault on the walls of Lamia. ‘Magas! Get men to the West Gate! This was a feint; they’
re bringing a ram up. Get artillery and oil over there. Now!’

  Antipatros’ second-in-command held his hand up in acknowledgement as yet another ladder crashed against the parapet. Leaving the threat to be dealt with by the chiliarch commanding the troops on that section of the southern wall, Magas raced off, sprinting down the stone steps to the street below and then on, through the town to the main gate in the western wall.

  Satisfied that the assault on the gates would be taken care of, Antipatros stabbed his pike back down at an Athenian hoplite mounting one of the many ladders thrust up against the city’s south-facing wall. Forcing his weapon down again and again, Antipatros grunted with exertion as the point cracked repeatedly into the hoplite’s shield, held over his head as he clambered up, using only his right hand for balance. The ladder bent under the pressure of Antipatros’ attack and the weight of other men below the hoplite, but the man kept coming, invulnerable beneath his shield, blazoned with the ghastly face of Medusa, red tongue protruding, eyes wide and snake-hair writhing. To either side of him, Antipatros’ men battled with the blood-hungry Greeks scaling the walls: dropping bricks, stabbing with pike or spear and pushing away the ladders not yet too weighed down by assault troops. Ceaselessly they had slogged thus since the horns had sounded the attack soon after dawn, before most defenders had broken their fast and so it was with empty bellies that they fought – not that they ever had their fill anymore; with the siege in its fourth month and the price of cats, dogs and rats at a premium, breakfast was a meal that was often not much more than a distant memory.

  Gods, I could eat a whole dog, Antipatros reflected as he felt his stomach churn and he emitted a sour-tasting burp. I’m too old to be fighting on an empty stomach. How does that man keep on coming? Again he slammed his pike down onto the Athenian’s shield, this time feeling it wedge itself into the leather-bound wood. He pushed down with all his weight, forcing the hoplite to halt his ascent. An arrow whipped past his head as Antipatros strained on his haft, prying the hoplon down and away from the Athenian’s head. ‘Get him!’ he shouted to the man to his left; he hurled a lump of stone down from above his head to crash onto the horse-hair pluming adorning the Athenian’s attic helmet. With a cry, barely heard over the chaos of the assault, the hoplite plunged from the ladder, dislodging the man under him and freeing Antipatros’ pike; with a quick stab he took the eye of the suddenly exposed soldier below as the man to his right pushed at the ladder top with a pitch-fork, toppling it backwards with ease now that so much weight had been lost. Back it fell to crash down onto the upraised shields of the troops awaiting their turn in the assault, hundreds of them with more in reserve behind in the no-man’s land between the walls and the siege lines. No sooner had it been repelled was the ladder retrieved by willing hands and rushed forward under a hail of javelins from one of the units of peltasts that Antipatros had interspersed with his heavy infantry along the wall.