Alexander (Vol. 2) (35 page)

Parmenion embraced the King and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Sire, you cannot imagine how happy I am to see you. I was most worried because we cannot fathom out the Persians’ strategy.’

‘I too am most happy to see you, General. Is your son Philotas well? And your men?’

‘They are all well, Sire. And they have prepared a celebration for your arrival. There will be much drinking and merry-making.’ As he spoke he walked alongside Alexander and every now and then Bucephalas gave his master a little push with his muzzle to attract his attention. The whole army proceeded behind them and all the cavalry, given the wide expanse they found themselves on, advanced in one long line just three rows deep, so that the sight of the two men walking calmly in the midst of that endless plateau was most striking. Behind them came the massed army and the rumble of tens of thousands of hooves at a walk.

‘Have our reinforcements arrived?’ the King asked.

‘Unfortunately no.’

‘Do you know whether they are at least on their way?’

‘Not yet.’

Alexander walked on in silence because his next question was a particularly difficult one. Parmenion kept quiet so as not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was.

‘Where is he?’ Alexander suddenly said as if asking for information on some topic of minor importance.

‘Sisines returned with your verbal message and I simply carried out your orders. Amyntas is in custody in his quarters and I have put Philotas in temporary command of the Thessalian cavalry.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘Badly, but that was to be expected.’

‘I cannot believe it. He has always been loyal to me – I have seen him risk his life on more than one occasion.’

Parmenion shook his head. ‘Power corrupts many men,’ he said. But to himself he thought: Power corrupts all men. ‘Still, we have no proof that he had actually accepted the deal.’

‘The Persian messenger who brought the letter?’

‘I am holding him prisoner. And I can let you see the letter.’

‘Is it in Greek or in Persian?’

‘It is in Greek, but that is no surprise. The Great King has many Greeks at court, including many Athenians, and he has no difficulty in drawing up documents of this kind.’

And the promised payment?’

‘No trace of it at all . . . for the moment at least.’

Parmenion’s camp came into view now. It consisted for the most part of tents, but there were also some small wooden constructions, a sign that they had been there for some time.

At that moment there came a series of trumpet blasts and soon the entire contingent came out on to the open field to pay homage to their returning King.

Alexander and Parmenion mounted their horses and inspected the troops, who beat their swords on their shields creating a tremendous din and shouting rhythmically:
‘Alexandre! Alexandre! Alexandre!’
The King was much moved as he saluted them, waving and gazing over the sea of rejoicing soldiers.

‘We are in control of almost half of Anatolia,’ said Parmenion. ‘No Greek has ever conquered such vast lands, not even Agamemnon. What worries me, however, is the lack of movement from the Persians. At the Granicus it was the governors of Phrygia and Bithynia who did battle with us, of their own initiative. Back then there wasn’t even enough time to consult the Great King. But at this stage Darius has certainly taken his decisions and I simply cannot understand this calm – no attacks, no ambushes . . . and not even a request for negotiation.’

‘That’s fine,’ replied Alexander, ‘because I have no intention of sitting down at the table with him.’

Parmenion was silent. By now he knew the King’s temperament very well. There was only one enemy Alexander respected – Memnon, but for some time now there had been no news of him. It was only the delay of the reinforcements due from Macedonia which left them thinking that their most feared opponent was still very much alive and kicking.

The conversation continued in the old general’s quarters and they joined up with their other companions – the Black, Philotas and Craterus – but it was clear they all wanted to savour the joy of the reunion rather than discuss military matters and soon the topics were wine and women rather than strategy and tactics. And there were women in abundance now, some of them managed by intermediaries, others who had spontaneously latched on to the troops attracted by gifts and promises, while others again had been bought as slaves from one of the many merchants who followed the army in the same way that fleas follow dogs.

Alexander stayed for supper, but as soon as the party began and a certain number of girls and young men had started dancing naked among the tables, he got up from his dining bed and moved away. There was a fine moon outside and the evening was pleasant and calm. He approached one of Parmenion’s officers, who was inspecting the guard, and asked him, ‘Where is Prince Amyntas being kept prisoner?’

The officer was immediately somewhat alarmed, seeing that the King was wandering around the camp alone at that time of night, and accompanied him personally to one of the wooden dwellings which had been built here and there. The guards opened the bolts and let him enter.

Amyntas was still awake, sitting by lamplight in a bare room, its walls of bare tree-trunks. He was reading a papyrus scroll, which was held open on top of a rough wooden table with two stones that he must have gathered from the ground. He lifted his head as soon as he realized there was someone in the doorway and rubbed his eyes to see better. When he understood who it was who stood there before him, he got to his feet and moved back towards the wall, an expression of pain and unease on his face: ‘Was it you who had me arrested?’ he asked.

Alexander nodded, ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Didn’t Parmenion tell you?’

‘No. He simply had me arrested in front of my men in the full light of day and marched me off to this rathole.’

‘In that case he misinterpreted my orders and has certainly been excessively prudent in carrying them out.’

‘And what were your orders exactly?’

‘To keep you under arrest until I arrived, not to dishonour you before your men.’

‘And the reason why?’ Amyntas asked again. He looked terrible – he certainly had not combed his hair for some time, neither had he shaved or changed his clothes.

‘A messenger from the Great King was intercepted. He was carrying a letter for you promising two thousand talents and the throne of Macedon if you had me eliminated.’

‘I have never seen such a letter, and had I wanted to kill you I could have done so a hundred times since the day they killed your father.’

‘I couldn’t take any risks.’

Amyntas shook his head. ‘Who advised you to do this?’

‘No one. It was my decision.’

Amyntas lowered his head and leaned against the wooden wall. The lamplight illuminated only the lower part of his face, so that his eyes remained in the shadow. At that moment he thought of the day Philip had been assassinated and how he had chosen to support Alexander so as not to unleash a dynastic war. He had been among those who had accompanied the young King, weapons drawn, to the palace and since then had always fought alongside him.

‘You had me arrested without even seeing the evidence . . .’ he murmured, his voice trembling. ‘And I have risked my life many times for you in battle.’

‘A king has no choice,’ replied Alexander, ‘especially at moments like this.’ And he had a vision of his father falling to his knees in a pool of blood, the mortal pallor spreading over his face. ‘Perhaps you are right, this affair probably makes no sense, but I cannot pretend that it hasn’t happened. You would do the same thing if you were in my place. I can only seek to make your humiliation as brief as possible. But first I must know. I will send you a servant to wash you and a barber to wash your hair and shave you. You look terrible.’

He gave orders to the sentries to make sure that someone took care of Prince Amyntas, then he headed back to Parmenion’s tent where the banquet had taken place. There came the noise of shouting and laughter, of crockery, of moans and grunting and the somewhat tuneless music of flutes and other barbarian instruments he did not recognize.

He went in and crossed the tent, climbing over several knots of naked, gasping bodies, coupled in every possible way on the mats which covered the floor. He went to stretch out alongside Hephaestion, embraced him and started drinking from his friend’s cup. And he drank all through the night, first to the point of dejection and then to senselessness.

C
ALLISTHENES ARRIVED
shortly before midday and entered accompanied by a member of the King’s guard. Alexander was sitting at his work table and his face carried the signs of the previous night’s binge, but he was sober now and alert. He had a sheet of papyrus unfolded before him and a steaming cup in his hand, probably an infusion prescribed by the physician Philip to help clear his hangover.

‘Come in,’ he said, ‘I’d like you to take a look at this document.’

‘What is it?’ asked Callisthenes as he approached the table.

‘It’s a letter which was being carried by a messenger from the Great King, addressed to my cousin Amyntas. I’d like you to take a good look at it and tell me what you think.’

Callisthenes studied the text without showing any visible signs of surprise, then asked, ‘What exactly would you like to know?’

‘I’m not sure . . . who might have written it, for example.’

Callisthenes took another look, more carefully this time. ‘Whoever it was has a good hand, without a doubt a cultivated, refined person. What’s more, the papyrus is of excellent quality and the ink too. In fact. . .’

Alexander was surprised to see him moisten the tip of his finger with some saliva, run it across the writing and then bring it to his mouth.

‘I can tell you that this type of ink is made in Greece using juice from elderberries and soot . . .’

‘In Greece?’ the King interrupted him.

‘Yes, but that in itself does not mean much. People travel all over carrying their own ink with them. I use it too, perhaps even some of your companions . . .’

‘Is there any other information you can glean from the document?’

Callisthenes shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘If anything should come to mind, let me know immediately,’ Alexander said. Then he thanked him and let him go.

As soon as Callisthenes left, the King called for Eumenes. While waiting for him he picked up a phial of his own ink, dipped the tip of his finger in it and tasted it, then did the same thing he had seen the historian do and noted that the taste of the two inks was identical.

Eumenes arrived almost immediately. ‘You called for me?’

‘Have you seen the Egyptian around the camp by any chance?’ asked Alexander.

‘Parmenion said that after having delivered your answer, he set off again.’

‘This is strange too – try to find out more, if possible.’

‘I will do what I can,’ replied Eumenes. ‘Is there any news of our reinforcements?’ he asked before leaving.

Alexander shook his head. ‘Nothing yet, unfortunately.’

When the secretary opened the curtain of the pavilion to leave, a gust of cold wind entered, making the papers on the King’s table fly. Leptine added some coal to the brazier which provided some meagre heat, while Alexander took a sheet and began writing:

Alexander sealed the letter and had it sent off immediately with a personal messenger, then went to Parmen-ion’s tent. The general was stretched out on his camp-bed and a servant was massaging his left shoulder with olive oil and nettle juice; an old wound there, collected while fighting as a young man in Thrace, was giving him problems now that the bad weather had set in. He stood up immediately and put an overgown on. ‘Sire, I was not expecting you. What can I give you? Some warm wine?’

‘General, I would like to interrogate the Persian prisoner. Can you arrange an interpreter for me?’

‘Of course. Now?’

‘Yes. As soon as possible.’

Parmenion dressed quickly, gave orders to the servant to go and look for an interpreter, and led Alexander to the quarters where the captured messenger was being kept in strict custody.