The Three Paradises Read online

  ‘On top, Father,’ Kassandros replied without pause for thought.

  ‘Think before you answer,’ Antipatros snapped, his mood towards his eldest now fragile. ‘If the two temporary regents decide that they would rather be permanent, then who are we to force them to stand down without the threat of violence; the very thing that I’ve called The Three Paradises conference to put an end to? But persuade them we must, for if I want to bring stability to the empire, and avoid further conflict, then it’s imperative that I have the two kings back in Macedon where they belong. To do that I must be not only the regent of Macedon but of them as well, in order to prevent Olympias using the young Alexander as her route back to power.’ He looked down at the skin on the backs of his hands. ‘There are few enough years remaining to me and I want them to be as peaceful as possible. I’ve had my share of struggle and now I wish to enjoy some rest; that will not be possible if I have to contend with Olympias scheming to get hold of her grandson and trying to murder the fool.’

  Antipatros stood and stretched his legs, rubbing his thighs and grimacing as the aged limbs creaked with sitting too long. Always an active man, a contemporary of Philip, he had been appointed regent of Macedon by Alexander as he left for his glorious conquest of Asia; he had ruled almost as a king there ever since. This, however, had brought him into regular conflict with Olympias, Alexander’s mother, whose lust for power was almost as great as her ability to abuse it. Antipatros had spent much of his energy in keeping the former queen from meddling in the affairs of the kingdom. Whilst Alexander had lived he had an ally; but now, with him gone, there was no one with enough influence over the woman to help him in his endeavours against her. He was well aware that once she knew of Perdikkas’ death – which would be sooner now, rather than later, thanks to Ptolemy – she would work to bring Roxanna and her child under her care and use them to wield power in Macedon and wreak bloody vengeance for all the slights and insults her crazed mind perceived she had received since Alexander left – and they were, no doubt, innumerable.

  Antipatros sighed, slumped back down on his chair and looked at Kassandros, trying to keep the dislike he felt for his oldest son out of his eyes now that his good mood had died. ‘So, Peithon I know of old: ruthless but not very bright and hardly likely to want to stay as regent to the kings.’

  ‘He did try to incorporate the Greek mercenaries he had been sent to prevent leaving the east into his army rather than fight them,’ Kassandros said, looking at his father out of the corner of his eyes now that he sensed the old enmity returning. ‘Had he been successful, and if Seleukos hadn’t have had them massacred before he could do so, only the gods and he know what he had planned to do with the army. So I would say that is evidence of some ambition, even if he set about it unsubtly.’

  Antipatros considered the thought. ‘I don’t think he’s up to doing anything too threatening now. I’m told that Seleukos keeps a wary eye on him. But it’s Seleukos who interests me. I vaguely remember him in Pella but he was an unformed youth at the time; I’m curious to know what sort of a man he’s grown into.’

  ‘You would like him more than you like me, Father.’

  Antipatros started at this remark. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean that he is everything that I’m not in your eyes. He’s a bull-elephant of a man, taller than me and twice as broad across the shoulders as I am. He is liked by people immediately upon their meeting him as opposed to the distrust and distaste that I engender. He’s clever; he’s able to reason clearly. For example, he knew that—’ Kassandros stopped, a guilty look in his eyes. ‘What I mean to say is that he has the ability to make a decision and draw people along with him without having to cajole or bribe them and he can more than hold his own in a fight – indeed, people would go out of their way not to fight him one on one.’ Kassandros creaked his pinch-faced smile with no joy in his eyes. ‘You see, Father: everything that I’m not.’

  Antipatros remained silent, his eyes cast down upon the sand around his feet.

  Iollas shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other and back again as he waited for his father’s reaction. Nicanor muttered something in a positive tone, but could not bring himself to look at his elder sibling.

  ‘I have tried,’ Antipatros growled, ‘but you were never a pleasant child, always howling to get your own way and acting in a spiteful manner with other boys in the court. I watched you cheat and lie because you felt that you could not compete with them and the shame burned in me.’ He levelled his gaze at Kassandros. ‘But there is no reason why our past relationship should impinge upon the present; do as I ask and make me proud, Kassandros, and perhaps we may learn to like one another a little more.’

  ‘It is always under your terms.’

  ‘Well, under whose terms should it be, eh?’ Antipatros jumped to his feet and pointed at his chest. ‘I’m the father and you are my son, it’s your duty to obey me and please me. If you cannot get that into your head, as Nicanor and Iollas have managed to, then I don’t know how I can help you by becoming more amenable.’

  Kassandros held his father’s look and then lowered his own in a token of submission.

  That’s the first time I’ve seen him do that.

  ‘I’m sorry, Father,’ Kassandros said, his voice small, ‘you are right.’

  Antipatros waited but Kassandros left it at that; he sat back down. ‘Very well, son. You can start by telling me what you think Seleukos wants.’

  ‘That’s simple: Babylon.’

  ‘Does he now?’

  ‘Yes, and I believe that he’s already got it.’

  Antipatros waved the suggestion away. ‘Impossible, only the regent can dispense satrapies; besides, Archon is still in place.’

  ‘Yes, but he was Perdikkas’ appointment and one of the first things that Peithon and Arrhidaeus did when they were appointed joint-regents was remove Archon and confer Babylon on Seleukos.’

  Antipatros stared at his son and then pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing shut his eyes. Of course; that’s clever and there is nothing I can do to reverse it without causing serious offence. I can see Ptolemy and Seleukos working together for this. Arrhidaeus was Ptolemy’s man; bringing the catafalque over to him ties his fortune to Ptolemy completely and so he would do anything he was asked. Peithon is in Seleukos’ debt for preventing him from making a serious error of judgement by incorporating the rebel mercenaries into his army, thereby making himself an outcast. ‘Do Ptolemy and Seleukos seem to be friendly?’

  Kassandros shrugged. ‘Well, they certainly like one another more than they like me.’

  In the spirit of improving relations with his son, Antipatros resisted the temptation to express a lack of surprise at this observation. ‘Babylonia allied with Egypt would be a tough proposition; it would effectively make a north–south divide in the empire. I need to counter this possibility before it becomes an established fact.’ He paused for reflection and then continued: ‘Kassandros, go to Babylon at once and bring Nicaea to me at The Three Paradises, I’ll be there in a month. I don’t want her becoming a pawn to be used by men who may well turn out to be my enemies.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Kassandros said, suddenly looking concerned. ‘Do you think that they will really threaten you?’

  ‘Me personally, no; but what I stand for, yes. I see what they are up to. They have no wish for power over the kings otherwise they would have had themselves made joint regents, instead they use proxies. The kings are irrelevant to them and so they are quite willing to give them up to me, thinking that the vast distances from Macedon to their satrapies will keep them safe because if I have the kings I won’t feel the need of going to all that effort to trouble them.’

  ‘It’s a fair assessment.’

  Nicanor and Iollas both murmured their agreement.

  ‘It is, except they have forgotten one thing: that little bastard, Eumenes.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘If the army assembly has o
utlawed him then we ought to bring him to justice; and the gods know just how much I would love to do that after being so humiliated by him. But always put yourself in your enemy’s position: if I were him, I would fall back east looking for allies and that will force Seleukos to declare either for Eumenes or me, thus prising him away from Ptolemy, whomever of the two he chose.’

  Kassandros considered this. ‘It could work, but are you really considering making such a long campaign following Eumenes east at your age – with all due respect?’

  Antipatros laughed. ‘No, my boy, no I’m not. I prefer to remain at home whilst others do my dirty work; in this case either Archias or Antigonos.’ He turned to Nicanor. ‘Sail immediately to Cyprus and tell Antigonos to return to the mainland as soon as he can; I want him and his army to be at The Three Paradises in under a month, so he had better hurry up and finish dealing with Aristonous. Tell the Resinated Cyclops that I plan to have him made commander-in-chief in Asia and his first job will be to root out Eumenes, if the Exile-Hunter doesn’t manage to get the sly little Greek first.’

  EUMENES.

  THE SLY.

  EUMENES HAD WATCHED them go the previous evening, almost twelve thousand of them; there had been nothing he could do to stop them. Twelve thousand veteran Macedonian infantry, Krateros’ former men, old in the ways of war and wise in the ways of living off the land; perfect troops for him, Eumenes reflected. Had it not been for the fact that I’m responsible for their general’s death and that I have the temerity to be a Greek, and not a very tall one at that. He shook his head as, from the vantage of a knoll, he surveyed what was left of his army camped on the western side of the bridge that took the Royal Road across the River Halys from Phrygia into Kappadokia. It had never been a great army in numbers but it proved to be remarkably loyal to him. Despite me being a former Greek secretary.

  It had been the five hundred Kappadokian cavalry, who had come over to him during the siege of Mazaca, the capital of Kappadokia, that had formed the nucleus of his army: tall, proud, bearded men, dressed in brightly coloured embroidered trousers and long tunics, very close to the Persian style, and protected by scale armour and high helms and riding partially armoured horses. These men he had come to love for their horsemanship and their fearlessness; they, in turn, had come to respect him for he had brought them nothing but victory.

  In persuading them and their commander, Parmida, to change sides during the siege, Eumenes had ensured that Perdikkas had defeated the rebel satrap Ariarathes. After that, Eumenes and his new cavalry had then set about subduing the rest of Kappadokia, the satrapy he had been given by Perdikkas as a form of joke, it having never been completely conquered by the Macedonians. Together they had swept away the last resistance to Macedonian rule and in the process he had added to his army many mercenaries, mainly Thracian and Paphlagonian as well as some Greek hoplites, peltasts and sundry light troops.

  As the empire slipped into civil war, his army had slowly grown but Macedonians had been hard to come by, other than the few companion cavalry who had always provided his bodyguard ever since Alexander had promoted him to command rank; this had changed when he defeated Neoptolemus and Eumenes had taken the oath of his ten thousand-strong phalanx. It was, therefore, with a respectably sized field army that he had faced Krateros and beaten him. He had taken the surrender and oath of Krateros’ cavalry but his infantry numbered too many to control after they had laid down their arms; and so he had been powerless to stop them once they had decided to return to Antipatros. Two victories he had won, two victories for Perdikkas and still he had been unable to do what he had been tasked with: to prevent Antipatros’ forces from coming south whilst Perdikkas dealt with Ptolemy. Two victories and still Antipatros’ army had gone by and Perdikkas would be trapped; his cause, the cause of the Argead Royal House, would be crushed.

  Despite Eumenes’ shabby treatment by Perdikkas, he had remained loyal to him for Perdikkas was the regent to the inheritors of the Argead royal house; it was to Alexander’s sire Philip, and therefore his family, that Eumenes owed everything. After the murder of his father and much of his family by Hecataeus, the tyrant of his native Kardia, Eumenes had taken refuge in Pella; Philip had seen his intelligent and ordered mind and, despite his young age and foreign blood, made him his secretary.

  And so, here he was, fighting on the losing side because of his unshakeable loyalty to the heirs of Philip and Alexander and he was painfully aware that he only had himself to blame. ‘I should never have let Perdikkas out of my sight,’ he said to his companions, Parmida the Kappadokian cavalry commander, Xennias, the commander of Krateros’ defeated cavalry and Hieronymus, a compatriot and friend since youth newly arrived from Kardia. ‘He’s too unsubtle and arrogant for sound politics.’ Again he shook his head as the horns sounded within the camp and tents began to come down. ‘I told him to marry Kleopatra and politely refuse Antipatros’ offer of his daughter, Nicaea, on the grounds that Ptolemy and Krateros were married to the old man’s other two daughters and therefore the club was not exclusive; but no, the idiot decides to try to marry both Nicaea and Kleopatra as if no one will notice.’

  This was news to Xennias. ‘You wanted Perdikkas to marry Kleopatra?’

  Eumenes looked up at Xennias, ten years his junior, in his thirties, and a head taller than him, and frowned. ‘Of course; it was the logical thing to do.’

  ‘But you said that you remained loyal to Perdikkas because he was the regent to the two kings and you will always support the Argead royal house; had he married her, he could—’

  ‘Have claimed the throne. Exactly.’

  ‘But then what would have happened to the two kings, the real—’

  ‘Heirs to the Argead house?’ Eumenes shrugged as he watched a distant rider canter along the Royal Road towards them, from the west. ‘Secluded somewhere quiet until it was certain that they had no further use. It’s the house that is important, not the individuals: who would you rather serve, a babe and a fool or Kleopatra, the full sister of Alexander, married to Perdikkas, who has plenty of royal blood in his own right?’

  ‘I see your point.’

  ‘Do you, Xennias?’ Hieronymus, a martial man running to fat, a soldier turned historian, asked. ‘I struggle to, but then I suppose that’s why I’ve come to witness this struggle at first hand to gain a better understanding of it all.’

  Eumenes smiled. ‘You’ve been too long locked away with your books at home, old friend. My reasoning was sound.’

  Xennias contemplated the notion as the rider neared. ‘Antipatros would have been—’

  ‘Unable to oppose that claim. I know. That was the whole object of the exercise.’ Eumenes sighed with regret. ‘There would have been a peaceful settlement; no civil war. Krateros would have been still alive – as would Neoptolemus, come to think about it, but I suppose things must always have their negative aspects – and we could have concentrated on governing the empire and becoming fantastically wealthy. And it nearly happened; it really did. I was on the verge of undoing the damage that the idiot had caused in marrying Nicaea by getting Kleopatra to agree to wed Perdikkas despite his being already married. Antipatros had already declared war on Perdikkas for his treatment of Nicaea but, even at that late stage, hostilities could have been avoided. Antipatros couldn’t have stood against Perdikkas, married to Kleopatra, coming to Macedon with Alexander’s catafalque to inter him in the homeland; no, he would have had to back down and swallow the insult to Nicaea. It would have been over before it started. But then I made the most terrible mistake: Kleopatra refused once she heard he had lost Alexander’s catafalque to Ptolemy; and it was me that told her. Me! I could cry for the shame of it. Me! After all those years of court intrigues and diplomatic missions I, who really should know better, let out a piece of information that the person I was negotiating with did not know. That’s what I did! Can you believe it? Can you believe how stupid I was?’

  Hieronymus, aware it was a rhetorical question, said nothing
and Xennias, being first and foremost a soldier, did not know whether to say he believed it or not and so shrugged in a noncommittal way but Parmida, used to the machinations of the Kappadokian clan-leaders, tutted in disapproval. ‘No, lord, I can’t; it was stupid to the point of madness.’

  ‘I was being rhetorical,’ Eumenes said, frowning at the overt criticism.

  Parmida spread his hands. ‘I’m sorry, lord. I am still not used to not saying what I think when talking with Greeks.’

  Eumenes stared at the Kappadokian commander but could see no guile. Of course, all this fighting The Lie with The Truth in their religion; I keep forgetting that you have to be literal with easterners. ‘Yes, well, never mind. Anyway, Kleopatra didn’t know that the catafalque had been hijacked; I could have easily made up some sort of cover story, obfuscated, glossed over the issue, until I’d got Perdikkas to Sardis and the ceremony was done.’ Eumenes rubbed his head and tried to ignore that his hair seemed to be thinner every time he touched it. ‘But there you have it: my elementary mistake has led now to war and I’ve just had to allow twelve thousand men who really should be my prisoners, or actually in my army, to go south to join the enemy. I’ve failed on all fronts, militarily and diplomatically and now I’ll never be forgiven by any Macedonian because I’ll always be seen as the man who killed Krateros, even though it was I who did more than anyone to try to prevent this war and his death.’