CHAPTER 111

 

Alexander had many reasons for inviting his officers to have dinner with him, simple reasons that he shared with no one. He wanted to sound out the mood of his men, what did they think and what did they expected, and also, wanted to be sure that each and everyone of the officers of his army understood what were they doing. In the past few days he had heard many rumors and, in some cases, complains, because, since the last siege at Gaza, the army hadn’t fought one single battle, they had spent the whole winter at Egypt and after that they had done nothing spectacular.

 

Eumenes was the first one in reminding him that the men were getting impatience. Alexander smiled remembering his secretary insistence, maybe the one who was impatience was Eumenes, but he agreed that his army should fight a battle soon.

 

Even if the next battle is going to be the most difficult of all of us –he thought.

 

Parmelio was again with them, which meant the King had the whole of his army again…well, his whole army without taking into consideration the men he had left behind on garrison duties. According to his latest reports he had under his command 47 thousand men, not an impressive number but he had now the very real problem of feeding them…but his logistical problems were about to be solved, and this night he wanted to relax.

 

This time the banquet wasn’t a splendid one, there wasn’t a display of wonderful dishes and expensive wines, but it was a friendly reunion with 300 of his most important officers, Generals, captains and commanders. Even the allies, the Greeks and the mercenaries’ officers were there and the King paid special attention to their expressions, words, gestures, everything that could tell him what were they really thinking about this campaign. 

 

That afternoon Alexander had received a message from his spy, Dolon, the same man who had helped him to enter the Persian camp to look for Hephaistion when he went to work for the Great King. It was a simple and coded message that he hadn’t shared with anyone, but that had him a little nervous, not for him, but for what he feared could be the reaction of his men. He needed them in a good mood and high morale, and that was the reason of this dinner, he had even found women from the several towns and cities around the valley to keep them happy.

 

A servant filled the King’s cup for the second time, a bit surprised to see that his master wasn’t drinking as usual, but there was no way in which he could know that Alexander wanted to keep all his senses on alert. The servant bowed and left him. The King ate absently, he wasn’t very hungry and this happened to him often, every time he was deep in thought he didn’t feel hungry, and usually this made him argue a lot with Hephaistion.

 

Hephaistion…

 

He turned at his side and a sad smile curved his lips. He was alone in his couch, if only his beloved were there he would have shared with him the news of Dolon, but his dear General was where he had to be, at the Euphrates.

 

A burst of laughter made him turn to find Krateros, talking animatedly with Ptolemy and Kleitos. He could hear their conversation as clearly as if he were sitting at their side, there was no doubt that his officers knew how to make themselves hear over the chaos of battle, they were used to shout, and, after several drinks, they were especially noisy.

 

At least someone is having fun –thought the King.

 

- One year without a single battle! –shouted Krateros, his booming voice could be heard over the murmur of the general conversation—I’m telling you this Persians are afraid of us, hiding under their mothers’ dresses.

 

Kleitos and Ptolemy laughed again.

 

- Their mothers’ dresses or their own dresses? –said Kleitos, leaning on his couch—They dressed so opulent that look like women.

 

The other two celebrated his joke with rude laughs and Thais, sitting near Ptolemy, just smiled and said nothing, this wasn’t a conversation for her and she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

 

- It’s like Aristagoras of Miletus said once to Cleomenes of Sparta –said Ptolemy, while Thais filled his cup again—“ The barbarians are not only immensely rich but they also have little taste for war, how easy they are to beat!”(1) –he quoted the man who had governed Miletus during the reign of Darius I, the main character in the Ionian Rebellion against the Persian Empire 2 hundred years in the past.

 

- I drink on that! –exclaimed Kleitos, raising his cup and spraying a few drops in the process.

 

- What can you expect from men who depend so much on mercs? –asked Krateros, shaking his head—Since we have memory the Persians have been completely unable to assemble a decent army on their own, they always have to hire mercs, and Greek merc nonetheless, and why? Because they know there is nothing better than the Greek phalanx.

 

- And now we kicked the Greek’s ass and there is no better army than the Macedonian –exclaimed Kleitos, laughing.

 

- Now, I drink on that –Krateros laughed and raised his cup.

 

- Why are mercenaries so bad? –asked Thais softly, after all, her father was a mercenary who had fought for years in the Persian lines and now was on garrison duties under King Alexander’s command.

 

- Mercs are not bad –answered Ptolemy softly—The bad thing is that people depend only on them. You see –he turned to see her—A city or a kingdom should be able to defend itself with the strength of their own, mercs are only a support, but they can’t be the main strength of an army, and Persians depend absolutely on Greek mercs. Take Memnon for example, he was a very skilful commander and once he was gone the Persians were hopeless, or can you name one good Persian commander? 

 

- Mm…how about Cyrus the Great? –Ptolemy opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, he hadn’t thought that and Thais laughed softly.

 

- I mean now, a good Persian commander who’s alive –he tried to fix things.

 

- I’m sure you meant that –said the hetaira in a conciliatory voice—So, let me see if I get this, since the Persians have so many mercenaries that makes them cowards.

 

- That’s right! They have to depend on their gold instead of fighting for themselves –Ptolemy smiled and returned his attention to Kleitos and Krateros who were sharing a very vulgar joke that had them laughing to tears.

 

Thais brushed her hair back and turned, finding Leonnatos and Perdikkas talking with other officers she didn’t recognized. The hetaira was going to turn again when Perdikkas’ expression caught her attention, she had heard from Berenike that he was behaving in a very peculiar way, but hadn’t paid him much attention until now. He looked worried, like someone who had done something really bad and was hopping with all his forces to hide it.

 

But, what could he have done? –Thais asked herself.

 

- Perdikkas, are you sick? –asked Leonnatos with his mouth full of meat. They weren’t close enough for the hetaira to hear what were they saying and soon she joined again Ptolemy’s conversation. 

 

- Eh? No, I’m fine –answered his friend absently.

 

- Then, why aren’t you eating? –his friend insisted, his eyes on the plate in Perdikkas’ hands.

 

- I doubt anyone is trying to poison you –said Meleager, the other officer who was with them.

 

Meleager son of Neoptolemos was older than them, 29 years old, and he, the same as Perdikkas, had under his command one taxei of pezetairoi, which meant he had 1,500 men to lead in battle. They both had the rank of taxiarchs (2) but Meleager contrary to Perdikkas and Krateros wasn’t from Upper Macedonia, he was from the west.  

 

Perdikkas shook his head.

 

- I’m not hungry that’s all –he explained, putting his plate aside.

 

Leonnatos swallowed his food and looked at him as if he were nuts.

 

- You have to eat, it’s the first rule in the army, eat while we can because we don’t know when are we going to enjoy a dinner like this again –his friend reminded him and Meleager nodded emphatically.

 

- And I bet you that it’s going to be a while before we can have meat again –said Meleager successfully catching their attention.

 

- How so? –asked Leonnatos frowning. The subject of food was very important to him, he needed to assure that Berenike and the children had good rations, after all that had been what started his wife’s crazy idea of serving in the army, to have better rations of food.

 

- I have been speaking with the scouts –Meleager leaned to the front and dropped his voice—Apparently the bloody barbarians burned all the fields ahead of us, we can’t get supplies here, and knowing our King, he is capable of making us advance in forced marches until we get to better fields. Which means not only bad food for some weeks but all also exhausting days.

 

Leonnatos sighed.

 

- Zeus, Hades and Poseidon! My wife is not going to be happy –he whispered under his breath. 

 

- But as soon as we reach Babylon, I bet you she is going to be delighted –said Meleager laughing—Women love jewels, and, if half of the things I heard about Babylon are true, then, you would be able to cover her in gold, like a Queen. I’m already planning what I’m going to send to my wife back home.

 

That thought made Leonnatos smiled, he would like that very much, to spoil Berenike and treat her like a Queen.

 

- You are married? –asked Leonnatos with curiosity, and Meleager nodded.

 

- I got married 3 years ago with a beautiful woman chosen by my father –he answered— I went with Koinos, and the rest of the men who had just got married before the campaign, back home to spend the winter. Do you remember? Just after the siege of Halicarnassus.  

 

- I remember, I had permission to go home too –Leonnatos explained—To take my wife and children back, you know. But at the end I decided to have them here with me.

 

- If you had told me this a couple of years ago, I would have thought you were insane –Meleager sighed—Now, I think you did the right thing, I don’t think this campaign in going to end soon.

 

Fragments of conversations like this one reached the King’s ears, and he let himself relax for a moment. His officers were confident and the morale was high, they knew they were superior and that was good, they would need all the confidence possible to fight against the army that Darius had assemble.

 

If only half of the number of men that Dolon mentioned on his message was true, then they would have to fight the hardest battle of their lives…or the hardest of history perhaps. Would history remember him like Leonidas and his 300? Like a handful of men fighting against the impossible? He hoped not, he was sure that he could win, but he needed the men sure of that too. 

 

The hardest battle of his life was coming, he could feel it inside him, a feeling he couldn’t explain with words but that was burning his soul.

 

But first things first, I need to cross the Euphrates and then…the rest would be in the Gods hands –he thought. 

 

XXX

 

- I still don’t know why am I here –Xsayarsa complained while brushing Hephaistion’s hair one night. They were alone inside the General’s tent after a long day supervising the construction of the bridges. According to Artorios the bridges would be complete in a couple of days and those news filled Hephaistion with joy, now he would be able to help his King, he would write to Alexander next day.

 

- I asked you to come with us because I was expecting resistance –that answer only served to confused the eunuch even more.

 

- You were expecting resistance? Sure! And I’m here because of my outstanding warrior skills, I suppose –Xsayarsa mocked him, making the General sighed.

 

- I’ll explain better. I wanted an interpreter in case I need to communicate with someone…I don’t know –Hephaistion rubbed his eyes, he was so tired.

 

- Mm, that has more sense…you should learn Persian. Your son speaks a very good Persian, did you know that? –said the eunuch, shaking the brush in his hand.

 

- Yes, I know –Hephaistion had heard Achilles speaking with his friend Cyrus or at class with Bahman and he knew that one day, when he became King, he would be magnificent, versed in Macedonian, Greek and Persian. That thought made him smile, he was so proud of his son and, the only thing that oppressed his heart, was the thought that, when that important day came, when Achilles were crowned King, he would be dead, because that would mean Alexander were no longer in this world.

 

And he said it himself, I’m, too, am Alexander, and I can’t live without him –he thought—But why on earth am I thinking this now?

 

- Peris, are you sure you want me to cut your hair again? –asked the eunuch, still not very convinced that this was a good idea, he remembered quite well what had happened the last time he cut the General’s hair, the Macedonian King wasn’t happy and now he was a subject of the Macedonian King.

 

- Yes Yarsa, I know that Alexander is not going to be happy but I found the hair this long a nuisance –Hephaistion explained.

 

- All right, but if the King wants my head after this, I swear by Ahura Mazda, that my spirit would torment you for the rest of your pathetic life –Xsayarsa threatened him.

 

- Yarsa, when are you going to understand that my King is not like the Great King? Nobody is going to kill you for a caprice –the eunuch took a pair of scissors he had from his days at the harem. Two sharp bronze blades from Egypt.

 

- Peris, a King is a capricious creature –said Xsayarsa, brushing his hair with his fingers before cutting it. He agreed with Hephaistion that his hair looked better short, but he had seen Alexander angry, and he was even more frightening than Darius—Tell me something, did you use my sexual advices?

 

The General tried his best not to blush.

 

- That’s none of your business –he heard the scissors cutting and felt his hair sliding through his back.

 

- Oh! So you did follow them! –exclaimed the eunuch fascinated, brushing his hair again after cutting it—And how was everything? The King was pleased, wasn’t he?  

 

Hephaistion was going to shut him up when they heard footsteps and his brother appeared at the entrance, panting. The General turned so quickly that he hit Xsayarsa on the process.

 

- Nick, what are…?

 

- You have to come, quickly! –the urgency in his voice didn’t pass unnoticed to the General, and he felt a knot in his stomach realizing that something bad had happened.

 

He followed his brother, and, as soon as he reached the outside, he found his men running in all directions, shouting orders while bolts of fire crossed the sky heading toward the bridges. They were under attack.

 

- Shit! –exclaimed Hephaistion, running to start issuing orders. The priority were the bridges, and first he instructed the men to put the fires out while his own arches formed on the side of the river to answer the attack. 

 

The only positive thing about the fires was that, thanks to them, they could see the Persians on the other side of the Euphrates. Hephaistion could distinguish their silhouettes, long shadows that made them look like giants, ghostly apparitions that only served to announce their doom. How many were them? There was no way to know, at least not until the sunrise, but for now, the General’s attention was on the bridges.

 

He came back, carrying a bucket with water, and helped his men, even the servants, slaves, workmen and engineers came to help and soon the fire had been extinguished, only the smoke remained and that strong smell of burned wood. 

 

- Philip! –Hephaistion, completely soaked, called one of his men—Keep a group of archers here, as sentries, in case the Persians decide to come back.

 

- Yes, sir –Philip saluted and left.

 

- Some night, don’t you think, “sir”? –said Nikandros, as soaked and tired as his brother.

 

- Nick, when are you going to leave that “sir” thing alone? –asked the General, brushing his wet hair back.

 

- Let me see –his brother pretended to be thinking— When it stops to be funny.

 

- Did I mention that I hate you?

 

- Several times –Nikandros smiled, pleased as if he had achieved something very important.

 

When Alexander assigned to Hephaistion the troops to come to the Euphrates, he never mentioned that his brother would be among them. Even if the General outranked Nikandros, he had never before commanded him, and since they arrived his older brother had been calling him “sir”, but not as a sign of respect, but more like a mockery.

 

But at least he has the decency of never calling me like that in front of others –thought the General.

 

- Do you think they may attack again? –asked Nikandros, walking at the edge of the river and narrowing his eyes, trying to distinguish something at the other side, but it was still dark.

 

- I have no doubt, in fact, I was starting to think that this was very easy –Hephaistion admitted—The bridges are almost complete and there had been no signs of the Persians, at first I think it was odd, then, I started to consider it luck, now…I don’t know.

 

- You should rest –said Nikandros suddenly, watching 2 men taking one of the wounded to the doctor—It won’t make a difference if you stay here. If you want I can stay a while and keep an eye on the archers.

 

- Thanks, I’ll appreciate that –Hephaistion hardly believe he would be able to sleep at all, but he needed sometime alone. He patted his brother’s back—Health to you, Nick.

 

- Health to you, “sir” –the General rolled his eyes and said nothing.

 

Next day, Hephaistion didn’t found a very encouraging sight on the other side of the river. Daylight helped him to see a numerous cavalry squadron, maybe 3 thousand men, and, at the center, a man surrounded by, what appeared to be his personal guards, and two standards, dancing at the mercy of the wind like big serpents. 

 

- How long have they been there? –asked the General and Glycon, standing at his side, answered immediately.

 

- Since dawn, sir.

 

- Did they attack again? –asked the General while surveying the enemy’s faces.

 

- No sir, but that man –Glycon pointed at the center, where a servant in front of the man that appeared to be their leader, was shouting something—Is asking to see our commander, apparently they want to parley.

 

- All right, then, lets see what do they want. Glycon, go to my tent and bring Yarsa –said Hephaistion, checking his armor and swords.

 

- Sir –Glycon saluted and went running to the General’s tent.

 

- Are you planning to speak with them? –asked Nikandros, approaching his brother with great strides. He was also wearing his armor, and ready to kill in case it was necessary. 

 

- Yes, why? Are you coming too? –Hephaistion teased him and his brother smiled.

 

- You know I can’t leave you alone, you are helpless without your big brother –answered Nikandros with self-sufficiency.

 

Xsayarsa came without breath not knowing what was so urgent and cursing in Persian because he was still combing his hair when Glycon came with all that military crap telling him that “the General requested his presence immediately”. And now there he was, his hair a mess and half dressed because these barbarians didn’t have the delicacy of waiting until he was ready.

 

The eunuch was still grumbling and mumbling when he turned and saw the standards at the other side. He paled.

 

- Lord Mazaeus –exclaimed the eunuch as if he had seen a ghost.

 

- Do you know him? –asked the General with interest.

 

- Everybody knows Lord Mazaeus –Xsayarsa scolded Hephaistion as if it were his obligation to know every important man at the Persian court— He is not only the Great King’s Friend, he is also "the most influential man at the court"(3) He is the satrap of Babylon and, before that, he was the satrap of Syria –he explained and pointed at the front—See that man at Lord Mazaeus’ right?

 

- The one who has a neck too short for his big head? –asked Nikandros and the eunuch saw him through narrowed eyes. 

 

- I said it once and I say it again, you are all barbarians…yes, that one is Brochubelus, Lord Mazaeus’ older son –said Xsayarsa with all dignity.

 

- What kind of men is this Mazaeus? –asked Hephaistion with interest. If he had to talk to him, at least he wanted to have all the information available.

 

- He is a very direct man, some considered him rude –said Xsayarsa, trying his best to remember something useful, but he had seen the satrap very few times—But he is also prudent and never speaks more than he has too…once I heard one of the servants saying that, Lord Mazaeus was a very approachable person. 

 

The General nodded, that was good.

 

- Fine, let’s see what he wants. Come –Hephaistion started to walk to the bridges’ direction to the eunuch’s horror.

 

- Where? –asked Xsayarsa.

 

- To talk to him –answered the General still walking.

 

- I’m not presenting myself to Lord Mazaeus dressed like this –the eunuch pointed at his clothes—And my hair is a mess.

 

Nikandros pushed Xsayarsa.

 

- I’m sure you’ll survive –he said following his brother until they stopped at the end of the bridge. The eunuch walked, shaking his head constantly as if he were heading to the scaffold.

 

Hephaistion saw the Persians on the other side, so close, they were so close of completing the bridge, but, as his dark gray eyes surveyed the wall of soldiers and horses in front of him, he realized the bridges wouldn’t be finished until this Mazaeus and his men were defeated.

 

XXX

 

- Who is that man? –asked Mazaeus, a man around his 50 years old with black hair and a thick and neat beard, watching Hephaistion walking on the bridge.

 

- That’s Hephaistion, the Hannaean (4), father – Brochubelus had witnessed the Macedonian’s fight against Kingu, he didn’t take part in the battle of Issus, but he had been at the Great King’s camp at the time to attend other important matters. 

 

The satrap nodded. Everybody knew that name and how much the Great King hated him. Any other man in Mazaeus’ place would have seen this as an opportunity to gain Darius’ favor, what better gift that the Macedonian’s head? But the satrap knew better than to act hastily. If, and only if he had the chance he would try to capture or kill him, but that wasn’t his mission or his priority.

 

Mazaeus saw the rest of the Macedonian troops in battle formation at the other side of the river. If someone tried something against their General they would act immediately, he could see their determination.

 

- No one moves unless I say so –said the satrap, pressing the sides of his horse to advance. He moved his head and his interpreter ran at his side, the same man that had been calling for the Macedonians’ commander moments before. 

 

- Macedonian! –called Mazaeus through his interpreter—I’m Mazaeus, satrap of Babylon and I demand that you leave now or else, I’ll destroyed your bridges.

 

Hephaistion heard with patience and, through the corner of his eye, saw how Xsayarsa nodded, confirming the words of the interpreter.

 

- Mazaeus satrap of Babylon, I’m Hephaistion son of Amyntor, General of the Agema of the Hypaspist –he answered with strong voice—And I refuse to leave.

 

- You are condemning your men to die here, I won’t let you complete these bridges –and with that Mazaeus kicked his horse’s flanks and was left.

 

- Shall we attack now father? –asked Brochubelus, the men around him tensed and ready.

 

The satrap didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were still on Hephaistion, returning to the other side. Things were complicated, he knew the Great King had put a price on the Macedonian’s head, and had heard rumors of what happened with Melkar, and all that meant that there was no way in changing Hephaistion’s mind to take him into the Persian side because only death awaited him. 

 

Mazaeus had his orders, he had to monitor the enemy movements, report back to Darius and avoid, at all costs, the rest of the Macedonian army. He had no idea how far was Alexander, he couldn’t risk his men waiting for the King, but to leave alone these bridges was out of question. He nodded.

 

- Call the archers and prepare to set those bridges on fire –said the satrap.

 

XXX

 

(1) Pierre Briant. From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, p 787

(2) Waldemar Heckel. The Marshals of Alexander's Empire, p 153

(3) Pierre Briant. From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, p 780

(4) Lindsay Allen. The Persian Empire, p 153

I’ll explain this name “In the Babylonian of the Chronicle and a text known as the Dynastic Prophecy, the Macedonians are called ‘Hannaeans’ an ethnic name fist used in the mid second millennium for a troublesome (and rather uncivilized) group who attacked Babylonia”