CHAPTER 184

 

Peucelaotis

 

Two weeks later Hephaistion watched the walled city in front of him and asked himself in dismay, how this had happened? He had followed his orders, marched south and taken all the places on their march. India turned out to be beautiful place with abundant water thanks to the great number of rivers that crossed this land. It was a fine sight but the commander could hardly enjoy it with so many things buzzing in his mind. He had traveled for almost a decade with the army, had supervised the supplies for the entire army in several occasions, had taken care of the artillery during a siege, even led men into battle, but none of these things compared to be in charge or a small army.

 

For his luck all the towns on their march had surrendered peacefully, not wishing to engage in battle with the powerful Macedonian war machine, but his own officers were causing him some problems.

 

Do you remember that many envy me because they thought I had gained my position in the army in Alexander’s bed? Well, you can imagine what my bitter enemies said when they learned that it was I the one who would command one half of the army to the south. Everybody, including my friends, thought Krateros would have this command…I have to admit that even I thought that, and no one took very well the news of my new post, except for my friends, brothers and cousin, of course.

 

One of the main problems I had to deal with, especially at the beginning of our march, was that all my officers asked Perdikkas for their orders, utterly ignoring me. Lucky for me Perdikkas did not want to skip my authority and always consulted me everything.

 

Yes, all the places submitted peacefully to Hephaistion but one: Peucelaotis, "the city of lotus flowers", which walls the commander could see from his present position. 

 

The governor of Peucelaotis was a man named Astes, who had been Ambhi’s ally. Hephaistion thought they would be able to trust Astes but, at the end, the governor changed his mind and decided to close the gates of the city and turned his back on them. There was only one solution now, one the commander had wished to avoid: siege the city. He had never done this alone, but he knew enough about sieges to have the job done. His main concern was not how to take the city but the time he would lost here instead of continuing his march to the Indus and begin with the construction of the bridge.

 

— How long, do you think, can they resist a siege? –asked Hephaistion and Perdikkas scratched his chin, watching the landscape unfolding before them.

 

The now hipparch Perdikkas surveyed the two hills where the city rested, one in the east and one in the west, this last one higher and larger giving the place a peculiar appearance.

 

— I’m not sure. It will depend on their supplies but here is very easy to get them and more than sufficient water –his friend said at last. 

 

Hephaistion pressed his temples with his thumbs and puffed out.

 

— We cannot lose time, we’ll begin the siege now and I will talk to Ambhi to see if he knows something useful about this place –he said and Perdikkas laughed.

 

— Good luck with Ambhi.

 

— Tell me about it –Hephaistion muttered.

 

Ambhi was not a bad man, on the contrary, he was honest and young, around Nikandros’ age...his real age not what the lochagos said it was. The problem was that Indian custom dictated that, every time a King or rajah, was in public, his servants had to “carry in their hands silver censers, and perfume with incense all the road by which it is his pleasure to be conveyed” (3) and the incense made the commander’s eyes cry. The other complicated thing of talking to Ambhi was that they had to use always an interpreter, in this case, a Persian merchant who had traded with Indians for so long that he knew his language as well as he knew Greek.

 

It was a whole process to talk to the rajah and the now commander embraced himself for the task.

 

— Phai –said Perdikkas suddenly, changing the subject drastically— I thought Aki would be coming with you, why did he stay with Alexander? –this was a question that had been eating the hipparch since they left the King but he hadn’t had the opportunity to ask.

 

— Aki is the Crown Prince, Perdikkas –answered Hephaistion, watching carefully his friend’s reactions while they talked about his son. Perdikkas had changed, at 30 years old he looked truly every inch the veteran officer he was, a scar crossed his jaw in the place a Scythian had almost claimed his life and his short hair showed different shade of blond now thanks to all the hours spent under the sun. Even his eyes were not the same, looking the world through a different perspective after so many years of battles, screams and blood— His place is at the King’s side.

 

The hipparch shook his head, as if trying to drive away bad thoughts as one does with an especially annoying fly, thinking twice to say what he really wanted.

 

— You are too good with Alexander –he said at last but he did not fool his friend. Hephaistion knew him since they were pages at King Philip’s court. Perdikkas had other things hidden inside his heart— If I were you, I would have insisted to have my son at my side.

 

— So Aki would have been close to you –the commander opened his mouth before thinking, following a hunch that this was the right thing to say, but he cursed silently watching Perdikkas blush. He had not meant to humiliate his friend— My apologizes, I should not have said…

 

— No, no, no…I mean –the hipparch took a deep breath, brushing his hair back. Hephaistion had seen right through him the only thing he could do now was to tell the truth— Holy harpies on a tree! You are right, I should have probably told you before but I guess I did not know how, I did talk to Alexander but…

 

— Tell me what? –now Hephaistion was intrigued and Seleucus’ warnings about his friend did nothing but to increase his suspicious about the hipparch’s strange behavior.

 

The commander could see on Perdikkas’ face the struggle to find the right words to express what had been in his heart for sometime now. He was not use to show his feeling in such a fashion, least of all with one of his friends, he was not a girl for the Gods sake! And had no idea of how to begin this.

 

— Phai, I like Aki…a lot –he admitted— And I have never liked anyone like this –he smiled nervously— I tried to do things right and be his erastes, but, I don’t understand why, he doesn’t want one. I guess he is still very young –he said utterly misunderstanding the Prince’s motives— Whatever the case, I want to be with him and I have been writing to Aki, sending him gifts and stuff like that.

 

And treating my son like a girl and calling him “Aki”, something that enrages him –thought the commander— Lately he only lets his family to call him like that and soon not even us would be able to do it. 

 

— Perdikkas, I know what is like to have suitors behind you insisting to be your lover –Hephaistion said in politest way he could find— Maybe you could try to be Aki’s friend instead of forcing him to …

 

— But I am not forcing him –the hipparch complained— I am trying to seduce him but he won’t look at me thanks to Krateros.

 

— Come again? –Hephaistion was lost, what had Krateros to do with this?

 

— He likes Aki.

 

— I know –answered the commander as he were muttering a curse.

 

— I don’t know what is he doing but the son of a bad mother is more successful than I am –Perdikkas complained— Krateros can spent hours talking to Aki but, every time I try to talk to him, he comes up with an excuse and leaves. 

 

I did not know that –thought Hephaistion alarmed. When had he stopped paying attention to what happen around his boy? What was Krateros playing at? And, more importantly, what did Achilles thought about Krateros?

 

The commander puffed his cheeks out and took a hand to his forehead. Thinking. At some point his son had stopped to be a child to become a young man attracting the attention of the King’s most important officers and friends. 12 years old…yes, that had been the same age Alexander had when they met at the horse fair, an age in which the King knew already things about life and death than even he, being older, ignored.

 

Hephaistion had not attracted this kind of attention when he was 12 years old because one very simple reason: he was living in the safety of his parents’ house. As soon as he arrived to the snake nest that was the royal palace his own beauty became his curse and this was exactly what was happening to his son. Achilles may not be as beautiful as he was at that age but he had another, if possible, more appealing attribute than he: power. He was the only son and heir of the most powerful man on earth, the invincible conqueror of the Persian Empire and, one day, all this would be his.

 

Besides, Aki looks so fragile that a very naïve person can think he is easy to manipulate –thought the commander— Is this what is driving Perdikkas’ desire for him? Ambition? Is power what my friend, or what that rat of Krateros, are looking for? Aki is a boy who had to grow up fast thanks to Alexander and I, thanks to his title and for the life he was forced to live in a military camp. Aki has never known what is to live in the same place for more than 6 months, to have a place he can called home; and I was so busy that never noticed how quickly he had to deal with problems like this. He has 3 of the most important officers of the King behind him: Perdikkas, Krateros and Seleucus. When I was at the royal palace I never had to deal with this situation because I had the most powerful and dangerous of all men behind me: the King himself, but Aki…

 

You are Aki's father but you can't fix his life…

 

Once Alexander had told him this and, even if it pained him to admit it, the King was right. There were things the Prince would have to solve alone. Achilles would fall many times in the process and the only thing Hephaistion could do was be there for him, nothing more. 

 

— I will look for Ambhi –said the commander, he had nothing more to say to Perdikkas, at not something useful and they had many things to attend— See the men began to prepare everything for the siege.

 

— I will –answered Perdikkas.

 

Hephaistion looked for the rajah, watching with satisfaction how the men had almost finished the camp that would become their home for the next weeks, the walls and palisades almost ready, and his nostrils filled with the smell of wood, sweat and freshly turned earth. He smelled the livestock before seeing the slaves taking the animals at the back and some women passed in front of him carrying water from the nearest river, the Kabul, which was really close. The commander was starting to learn that this region was covered by numerous rivers, very closed one from the other, which was undoubtedly the reason of why they were surrounded by such abundant vegetation. 

 

So far India had not struck Hephaistion as a very strange place, although he had to admit that, when he first saw the rajah of Taxila arriving, covered from head to toe with fine muslin, shod with sandals, cloths of linen coiled round his head, precious stones hanging as pendants from his ears, wrists and upper arms with bracelets of gold (1) He found the sight extremely weird.

 

In a way Indians were as luxurious as the Persians, but to say they looked the same would be like saying that a Molossian hound and a lap dog were alike just because both were dogs. Indians “frequently comb, but seldom cut, the hair of their head. The beard of the chin they never cut at all, but they shave off the hair from the rest of the face, so that it looks polished. The luxury of their kings, or as they call it, their magnificence, is carried to a vicious excess without a parallel in the world.”(2)

 

It had been quite a sight when they arrived with elephants and all to pay their respects to Alexander, but this display had also served to awake the interest of the men in this mysterious region. It was a rich one.

 

Hephaistion saw the golden palanquin, decorated with pearls, dangling all round it, and took a deep breath before approaching to talk with Ambhi.

 

XXX

 

Alexander, as he said, went north moving along the Choaspes River, where later I heard he was injured on the shoulder while fighting against natives entrenched on the hills.  Have you noticed how he always got injured when I was not around? Anyway, the wound was not serious but it served to spoil my King’s good mood that had accompanied him so far since we arrived to India. And as you already know an enraged Alexander was not a very pleasant sight, especially when he had someone to blame or to vent over his anger, which in this case were the poor devils entrenched on the hills.

 

My King razed their town and let his men to butcher all prisoners. You can think these were extreme measures but, contrary to the little resistance I encountered on my way to the Indus, almost all the towns on Alexander’s path fought against him savagely, resisting to the last man, unwilling to submit to the Macedonian invader. The Indian towns fought bravely but no one more than a place called Massaga…  

 

Massaga

 

It was mid January now, Alexander had missed Hephaistion’s 30th birthday which did not make him happy, and, to worsen his mood, the gates of the proud city of Massaga remained defiantly closed for him. A silent challenge to his authority and for the young conqueror a clear statement that, if he wanted to be called the master of all Asia, he would have to take the place by the force of arms and let these people know that nothing would stand in his path for everlasting glory.

 

From his position the King’s uneven eyes surveyed his objective, strong walls and brave soldiers stood between him and victory and it became clear for Alexander that, in order to submit the place quickly without risking the lives of his men, the fight would have to take place near Massaga but not at an arrow or javelin reach. He had to draw the enemy away from the safety of their walls and finished them before they had time to take refuge inside the city.

 

— As soon as they come out –said the King to Krateros, mounting at his side. Boukephalos was too old now, and even if he still was Alexander’s favorite horse, he let his old friend rest every time he could— We will retreat there –he pointed to the high ground behind them— The enemy would think we are running away and will pursue us and then we will fight them.

 

The commander studied the path from the city to the high ground, it was irregular and at some points the phalanx could break and gaps would appear, but nothing too serious, he mused.

 

— You seem sure that they will bite the bait –the Krateros surveyed the distance, shielding his eyes with his hand.

 

— My spies tell me they are very confident with their mercs –Alexander nodded— Apparently they are fierce warriors from the distant lands of inner India, you can be sure they will fight.

 

— All right.

 

— Father! –the King and his commander turned and found Achilles approaching them, mounted on Pegasus, who was now a beautiful and strong warhorse ready to go into battle, and Bastet running at his side with that dangerous grace of big cats. No mattered how well trained was the Cheetah, she unnerved many of the men who found unnatural to have such a fierce beast behaving like a faithful hound. 

 

Alexander raised an eyebrow when he saw the boy was wearing his armor, a splendid breast plate showing the profile of 2 Pegasus with their wings extended, with greaves and arms protections made especially for him. His adopted father wore always a purple cloak, Hephaistion a black one, but Achilles chose a dark blue that made his cerulean eye looked like the night sky. This armor had been the King’s birthday present for him, complete with the helmet hanging from his saddle and the 2 swords, but now Alexander was beginning to regret his decision of giving this to his son.

 

— What are you doing here? –asked the King, having a good idea of what was happening but he wanted to hear it from the boy’s lips.

 

— I want to fight at your side –said his Prince with confidence. Now, he had exactly the same age Alexander had when he met Hephaistion 17 years ago, and dressed like that he truly looked older, which depressed the King a little.

 

When did he grow so fast? –thought the blond, feeling like an old man of 80 years old.

 

— Aki, you are still young to fight –answered Alexander, still worried after his son’s allergy attack 3 days go and before that, his bad condition while crossing the Hindu Kush.

 

Once again the King and his beloved feared the boy was not going to make it through the frozen perils of the Hindu Kush, the cold was more dangerous to the Prince than a sharp blade directed to his heart. He had coughed all the way here, wrapped in heavy fur cloaks, almost collapsing while riding but refusing to travel on a wagon. His both fathers had thought he would be better when they arrived to India, and he did, until 3 days ago when Achilles suffered another allergy attack.

 

This time he had a rash on his neck that itched constantly. The boy had been feeling bad also, extremely weak, even if he always claimed it was nothing, but after he had almost died thanks to a bee the King did not want to take any chances and had ordered him to rest.

 

— Father, I have the same age you had when you killed your first man, why should I be less than you waiting until I am older? –that answer made Krateros laugh without noise, it had been a good one, but the King was not amused.

 

— Achilles you are not going to fight today and this is the end of it –said Alexander strictly. 

 

The Prince wanted with all his forces to ask “why”, demand an explanation and throw a tantrum while yelling with all the forces of his lungs but, one look at the eyes of the King, those eyes that had reduced hard, old, badass men into quivering jellies, and he decided to close his mouth. Achilles clenched the reins of his horse until his knuckles were white and headed back to the camp musing his anger in silence, his face glowing red, feeling like a fool in new dashing armor.

 

— What is so funny? –asked the King in a bad mood when he saw Krateros smiling.

 

— Nothing.

 

The battle went exactly as Alexander planned. The Macedonian army, ready in battle formation, waited for the forces of Massaga and it’s deadly 7,000 mercenaries, legendary warriors from the interior of India said to be fearless and deadly, never missing a target, beyond mercy and pity. Following the King’s orders the Macedonians fought a little, near the walls of Massaga and then, feigning cowardice, retreated to the high ground, never losing their ranks and taking carefully each step back. And soon the enemy, already tasting victory, ran after them in disorder, drunk with joy and looking to feast on the bones of a weak foe.

 

The Indians never expected the rain of arrows that fell upon them when they reached the high ground, a deadly welcome that claimed the life of many. And just when they were trying to recover from this unpleasant surprise, the phalanx charged against them and the only way out was now to run for their lives and pray the Gods to let them reach the safety of the city walls.

 

By night the Macedonian camp celebrated their first victory in this place but still the city refused to surrender and, next day, Alexander ordered to put his artillery in action. But the enemy did not give up.  

 

XXX

 

— I don’t understand why you are so angry –said Sophia pouting, following Achilles around the camp 2 days after the first battle for Massaga.

 

The girl of 10 years was intelligent and thanks to her mother and Thais, also well educated, but she had never liked war; Sophia was a sweet child that enjoyed telling stories and hearing about great heroes and princesses in distress. She had a great imagination, something that had caught the Prince’s attention, his cousin could come up with the most fantastic tales out of nothing and she liked to day dream and did not understand why they were forcing the Indians to surrender. 

 

Sophia and Achilles were very different, whereas the Prince liked politics and game powers the girl prefer a peaceful evening among books, legends and tales. But this was precisely why they had become friends, because they were not alike and she gave him peace. 

 

— I am angry because I want to fight, I want to kill my first man, and dad does not let me –the Prince kicked a rock with force.

 

— And can’t you wait a little? –his cousin could not understand why the fuss over such a thing— The important thing is that you take the life of your first man, not when. 

 

— No! It is not like that –Achilles stopped and turned to look at her. He had spent days thinking about this over and over again, feeling trapped and watching how time passed, slipping through his fingers like water, unable to make it stop— Dad killed his first man at my age, I cannot be less than him.

 

— Why not?

 

— Because I am his adopted son, not even his biological one; someday I will be King, and I do not want people comparing me to him and saying that I am not his worthy heir –the Prince explained. He was trembling under a lot of stress and did not know what to do. It was hard to live under the shadow of such a man and Achilles knew that, when Alexander died, he would become a legend and, how do you live after a legend?

 

Sophia took his hand between hers.

 

— You are a good Prince –she said, holding his gaze— And I am sure you will be a good King, different from your dad, but a good one –she smiled sweetly and that, as simple as it was, calmed Achilles down— You worry too much for things that had not even happened, and my mommy always says that you have to deal with one problem at a time, I think this is what you need to do. 

 

— Thank you –the Prince sighed. It was very simple wisdom but wisdom nonetheless.

 

— You are welcome. Besides, I don’t think is too bad if you wait a little before killing your first man, my brother had not killed his first yet –Sophia explained— And he is 14 years old…Mm…—she frowned, making a pause— But now that I think about it, dad is pretty angry with Amyn because of this. I think he is taking him to fight at his side tomorrow. Did you know that my brother is now a page?

 

— Yes, I know –said Achilles, holding her hand and walking again, making his cousin smiled happily. She liked the Prince— Dad took him as his page after what happened with Hermolaus and the other boys.  

 

— Amyn does not like too much to be page –said Sophia— He is pretty lazy.

 

They walked for a while around the camp, watching the men hurrying to their day to day activities and hearing the sound of the artillery working at the distance followed by the boom of the rocks every time they hit the city walls. Sophia did not like that sound, it reminded her of the time they had been trapped inside Hallicarnasus and it gave her goosebumps, so the Prince squeezed her hand with a force to reassure her.

 

They headed for Leonnatos’ tent but, when they turned looking for the shortest way, Achilles saw Seleucus not far, issuing orders to his men before next day’s battle. The Prince stopped, feeling his lips burned remembering the kiss the commander stole from his lips and blushed. After that night Achilles had tired to forget everything about Seleucus, he had even kissed one of the young servant girls, a pretty thing ready to please her master, but he had not felt the same as he did that night, that intoxicating desire threatening to burn him. 

 

Seleucus felt someone’s eyes on him and turned but the Prince did not want to talk to him, he did not like what the commander made him feel, he hated to feel vulnerable and he turned to the left and continued his way, knowing that Seleucus unnerving eyes were following him. 

 

Even from outside they could hear Berenike arguing with Amyntas and Leonnatos angry voice joining the conversation from time to time but mostly just to support his wife. What was going on there? As soon as they came in, they found Berenike and Leonnatos standing before the strong boy of 14 years old, looking like executioners about to deliver the deathblow.

 

— Amyntas I don’t care what you think, you are going with your father tomorrow and you will bring back the head of an Indian or I will not receive you again in my house –said Berenike in a tone of voice Achilles did not knew her, but what really surprised him was not his aunt’s and uncle’s angry looks but his cousin lack of interest in what was going on around him.

 

— What is happening here? –whispered the Prince.

 

— Oh! I forgot to mention that Amyn has been procrastinating this for some time now –Sophia explained— I told you, he is pretty lazy. 

 

Amyntas looked a little bored and very unhappy but he knew better than complain. When he was 12 he had been too young to go into battle so nobody insisted that he should do it, when his 13th birthday arrived his parents began to ask when he was going into battle but did not complain when the boy answered he wanted to wait. But now that he was 14 this was something he had to do and Amyntas knew he had run out of excuses by now. He knew his mother well enough to believe her capable of never receiving him in the house ever again.

 

— Fine, I will do it —said Amyntas as if he were doing them a favor.

 

This was something Achilles could not understand, he was practically begging to take part in the battle and here was his cousin, 14 years old, tall, strong and healthy, and people had to beg him to fight.

 

Life is so unfair –thought Achilles.

 

— Aki! –exclaimed Berenike sweetly, changing her voice drastically and looking like a completely different person, which was really creepy– I did not know you were here.

 

— Joy to you, aunt Eni –said the Prince.

 

— I thought you were with Alexander supervising the artillery –said Leonnatos, glad to have finished with this sorry business with his son.

 

— I was, but…

 

Leonnatos frowned.

 

— Don’t tell me you asked the King again to let you fight? –he guessed and Achilles moved his head up and down, making his uncle laugh— Aki, don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you are going to make Alexander change his mind any time soon.

 

— But I don’t get it, why doesn’t he let me fight? –the Prince complained, looking like the boy of 12 years old he was.

 

— Because he doesn’t want to risk your life and you have been sick lately –said Leonnatos making Achilles blush— If I were your father I would also want you to wait until you are older.

 

— Then, why do you want to risk my life? –Amyntas complained.

 

— Because you are a big lazy brute strong enough to break a man’s neck with your bare hands –answered Leonnatos angry and his words left Achilles thinking.

 

Could it be that Alexander thought he was too fragile to fight? This thought depressed him and he truly hoped it wouldn’t be true.

 

XXX

 

— Mommy –said Sophia when Achilles was gone.

 

— What is it, sweetie? –answered Berenike, sewing one of Leonnatos’ chitons.

 

Her daughter was at her side, sewing too but Sophia hated to do this. Her mother had told her that, if she wanted to be a good wife one day, she had to know how to sew and cook besides she had to help her to take care of her father and big brother. Sophia preferred to cook, at least while cooking she could eat the ingredients but sewing was just plain boring.

 

— When I grow up, I will marry a prince –her daughter’s words made Berenike laugh, remembering that she used to say the same when she was a girl around Sophia’s age.

 

— Really?

 

— Yes –Sophia nodded— Because I will marry Achilles.

 

The smiled abandoned Berenike’s lips. She said nothing, but she knew that, the only son and heir of the Great King Alexander was meant to marry a woman of political importance, probably the daughter of a powerful King, not the daughter of a somatophilax who was a friend of the King. What could Alexander gain from an union like this? 

 

Besides, I would never let my daughter to share the same roof with Roxanne –Berenike shuddered just thinking what could that woman do to her sweet daughter.

 

Months had passed since she became the Queen’s companion and, even if Roxanne was a consummated actress, Berenike was no fool and knew she was cruel and ambitious. They could not talk much because the Queen suck learning other languages and her Greek was very basic and very bad, but still Berenike had noticed she it understood better than everybody thought.

 

But words were not necessary to know what kind of person she was, her actions spoke louder. One day, while the King was very busy razing an Indian town, Roxanne had ordered to flog a very beautiful slave girl that had displeased her, pulling her hair painfully while brushing it, or so the Queen claimed. The girl was no longer beautiful after that and something told Berenike this had been her intention from the very beginning.

 

Roxanne disliked beautiful women and she was sure that the Queen would have ordered her flog if she could. 

 

No, I don’t want my girl near that witch –thought Berenike, sewing in silence.

 

XXX

 

(1) and (2) Curtius. Ancient India: it’s Invasion by Alexander the Great, p 188