Fire From Heaven 16 страница

'No, ' said Hephaistion. What he lived for was his own business, part of which was that Alexander should not be burdened with it.

'The soul must live to do. '

Hephaistion put aside the sword, took up the dagger with its dolphin hilts and agate pommel, and agreed that this was so.

Pella rang and rattled with sounds of war. The breeze brought Oxhead the noise and smell of war-chargers; he flared his nostrils and whinnied.

King Philip was on the parade-ground. He had had scaling-ladders rigged up against tall scaffolding, and was making the men climb up in proper order, without crowding, jostling, pinking each other with their weapons, or undue delay. He sent his son a message that he would see him after manoeuvres. The Queen would see him at once.

When she embraced him, she found he was the taller. He stood five feet seven; before his bones set, he might make another inch or so, not more. But he could break a cornel spear-shaft between his hands, walk thirty miles in a day over rough country without food (for a test, he had done it once without drink either). By gradual unnoticed stages, he had ceased to grieve that he was not tall. The tall men of the phalanx, who could wield a twenty-foot sarissa, liked him very well as he was.

His mother, though there was only an inch between them, laid her head on his shoulder, making herself soft and tender like a roosting dove. 'You are a man, really a man now. ' She told him all his father's wickedness; there was nothing new. He stroked her hair and echoed her indignation, his mind upon the war. She asked him what kind of youth was this Hephaistion; was he ambitious, what did he ask for, had he exacted any promises? Yes. That they should be together in battle. Ah! Was that to be trusted? He laughed, patted her cheek, and saw the real question in her eyes, which sought, like wrestlers, for a moment's failure of nerve which would let her ask it. He faced her out, and she did not ask. It made him fond of her and forgiving; he leaned to her hair to smell its scent.

Philip was in the painted study at a littered desk. He had come straight from the drill-field, the room smelled acridly of his horse's sweat and his own. At the kiss of greeting, he noticed that his son, after a ride of less than forty miles, had already bathed to wash off the dust. But the real shock was to perceive on his jaw a fine golden stubble. With astonishment and dismay, Philip perceived that the boy was not, after all, behindhand with his beard. He had been shaving.

A Macedonian, a king's son, what could have possessed him to make him ape the effete ways of the south? Smooth as a girl. For whom was he doing this? Philip was well-informed about Mieza; Parmenion had arranged this secretly with Philotas, who made regular reports. It was one thing to take up with Amyntor's son, a harmless and comely youth whom Philip, indeed, could himself have fancied; it was another to go about looking like someone's minion. He cast his mind back to the troop of young men he had seen arriving; it now occurred to him that there had been older chins there, beardless too. It must be a fashion among them. A vague feeling of subversion stirred under his skin; but he pushed it out of the way. In spite of the boy's oddities, he was trusted by the men; and, since business stood where it did, this was no time to cross him.

Philip waved his son to the seat beside him. 'Well, ' he said, 'as you see, we're well forward here. ' He described his preparations; Alexander listened, elbows on knees, hands clasped before him; one could see his mind running a step ahead. 'Perinthos will be tough to crack, but we shall have Byzantion on our hands as well; openly or not they'll support Perinthos. So will the Great King. I doubt he's in a state to make war, from what I hear; but he'll send supplies. He has a treaty for that with Athens. '

For a moment, their faces shared a single thought. It was as if they spoke of some great lady, the strict mentor of their childhood, now found to be plying the streets in a seaport town. Alexander glanced at the beautiful old bronze by Polykleitos, of Hermes inventing the lyre. He had known it all his life; the too-slender youth with his fine bones and runner's muscles had always seemed, under the divine calm imposed by the sculptor, to conceal a deep inward sadness, as if he knew it would come to this.

'Well, then, Father; when do we march? '

'Parmenion and I, seven days from now. Not you, my son. You will be at Pella. '

Alexander sat bolt upright staring; he seemed to stiffen all over. 'At Pella? What do you mean? '

Philip grinned. 'You look for all the world like that horse of yours, shying at his shadow. Don't be so quick off the mark. You won't be sitting idle. '

From his scarred and knotted hand he drew a massive ring of antique goldwork. Its signet of sardonyx was carved with a Zeus enthroned, eagle on fist; it was the royal seal of Macedon.

'You will look after this. ' He flipped it up and caught it. 'Do you think you can? '

The fierceness left Alexander's face; for a moment it looked almost stupid. In the King's absence, the Seal was held by his Regent.

'You've had a good grounding in war, ' his father said. 'When you're old enough to be up-graded without a fuss, you can have a cavalry brigade. Let's say two years. Meantime, you must learn administration. It's worse than useless to push out frontiers, if the realm's in chaos behind you. Remember, I had to deal with that before I could move anywhere, even against the Illyrians who were inside our borders. Don't think it can't come back again. Moreover, you'll have to protect my lines of communication. This is serious work I'm giving you. '

Watching the eyes before him, he saw a look in them he had not met since the day of the horse-fair, at the end of the ride. 'Yes, Father. I know it. Thank you; I'll see that you don't repent of it. '

'Antipatros will stay too; if you've sense you'll consult him. But that's your own choice; the Seal's the Seal. '

Each day till the army marched, Philip held councils: with the officers of the home garrisons, the tax-collectors, the officers of justice, the men whom the tribal chiefs, enrolled with the Companions, had left to rule their tribes; the chiefs and princes who for reasons historic, traditional or legal remained at home. Amyntas was one, the son of Perdikkas, Philip's elder brother. When his father fell he had been a child. Philip had been elected Regent; before Amyntas came of age, the Macedonians had decided they liked Philip's work and wanted to keep him on. With the royal kin, the throne was elective by ancient right. He had dealt graciously with Amyntas, giving him the status of a royal nephew, and one of his own half-legal daughters for a wife. He had been conditioned to his lot from infancy; he came now to the councils, a thick-set, dark-bearded young man of five and twenty, whom any stranger might have picked out of a crowd as Philip's son. Alexander, sitting on his father's right at the conference, would steal a look sometimes, wondering if such inertia could be real.

When the army marched, Alexander escorted his father to the coast road, embraced him, and turned for Pella. Oxhead, as the cavalry went off without him, blew restively down his nose. Philip was pleased he had told the boy he would be in charge of the communication lines. A happy thought; it had delighted him; and in fact the route was very well secured.

The first act of Alexander's regency was a private one; he bought a thin slip of gold, which he wound round the hoop of the royal signet to make it fit his finger. He knew that symbols are magical, in perfection and in defect.

Antipatros proved most helpful. He was a man for acting on facts, not wishes. He knew his son had fallen foul of Alexander, disbelieved Kassandros' version of it, and had been keeping him well out of the Prince's way; for here, if Antipatros had ever seen one, was a boy needing only a clumsy push at a crucial moment to discover in himself a very dangerous man. He must be served and served well, or else destroyed. In Antipatros' youth, before Philip secured the kingdom, a man might find himself any day standing siege in his own home against a vengeful neighbour prince, a horde of Illyrian raiders, or a brigand band. His choice had long since been made.

Philip had sacrificed his useful Chief Secretary, to take care of the young Regent. Alexander thanked him politely for the digests he had prepared, then asked for the original correspondence; he wished, he explained, to get the feel of the men who wrote. When he met anything unfamiliar, he asked questions. After everything was clear in his mind, he consulted with Antipatros.

They had no differences, till one day when a certain soldier was accused of rape, but swore to the woman's willingness. Antipatros was inclined to accept his well-argued case; but since a blood-feud threatened, he felt obliged to consult the Regent. With some diffidence he laid the unsavoury tale before the fresh-faced youth in Archelaos' study, who answered without a pause that Sotion, as all his phalanx knew, when sober could talk his way out of a wolf-trap, but in drink he'd not know a farrow sow from his sister, and either would do as well.

A few days after the King marched east, the whole garrison force around Pella was called out on manoeuvre. Alexander had had some thoughts about the use of light cavalry against flanking infantry. Besides, he said, they must not be allowed to gather moss.

Relieved or frustrated at being left behind, in either case the men were inclined to take things easy. Before the trim well-burnished youth on his sleek black horse had ridden half down the line, they were dressing ranks with nervous care and trying, with scant success, to conceal defects. One or two were sent in disgrace straight back to barracks. The rest spent a strenuous morning. Afterwards, the veterans who beforehand had grumbled loudest, jeered at raw men's complaints; the youngster might have sweated them, but he knew how many beans make five.

'They shaped quite well, ' said Alexander to Hephaistion. " The chief thing is, they know now who's in command. '

It was not, however, the troops who first tested this.

‘My darling, ' said Olympias, 'there is a little thing you must do for me before your father comes back; you know how he crosses me in everything. Deinias has done me so many kindnesses, looked after my friends, kept me warned of enemies. Your father has held back his son's promotion, just out of spite. Deinias would like him to have a squadron. He is a most useful man. '

Alexander, half whose mind had been on mountain manoeuvres, said, 'Is he? where is he serving? '

'Serving? It is Deinias, of course, I meant is useful. '

'Oh. What's the son's name, who's his squadron commander? '

Olympias looked reproach, but referred to her notes and told him.

'Oh, Heirax. He wants Heirax to have a squadron? '

'It's a slight to a distinguished man like Deinias; he feels it is. '

'He feels this is the time to say so. I expect Heirax asked him. '

'Why not, when your father has taken against him for my sake? '

'No, Mother. For mine. '

She swept round to face him. Her eyes seemed to explore some dangerous stranger.

'I've been in action, ' he said, 'with Heirax, and I told Father what I saw of him. That's the reason he's here instead of in Thrace. He's obstinate, he resents men who are quicker-thinking than he is; and then when things go wrong he tries to shift the blame. Father transferred him to garrison duty, rather than demote him. I'd have demoted him, myself. '

'Oh! Since when is it Father this and Father that? Am I no one to you now, because he gives you the Seal to wear? Do you take his part against me? '

'I take the men's part. They may have to be killed by the enemy; that's no reason to have them killed by a fool like Heirax. If I gave him a squadron, they'd never trust me again. '

She struck back at the man in him, with love and hatred. Once long ago, in the torchlit cave of Samothrace, when she was fifteen, she had met the eyes of a man before she knew what men were. 'You are growing absurd. What do you think it means, that thing stuck on your finger? You are only Antipatros' pupil; it was to watch him govern that Philip left you here. What do you know of men? '

She was ready for the battle, the tears and the bloodstained peace. For a moment he said nothing. Suddenly he grinned at her. 'Very well, then, Mother. Little boys should leave affairs to the men, and not interfere. '

While she still stared, he took three quick strides across and put his arm round her waist. 'Dearest Mother! You know I love you. Now leave all these things and let me deal with them. I can see to them. You're not to be troubled with them any more. '

For a moment she stood rigid. Presently she told him he was a wicked cruel boy, and she could not think what she would say to Deinias. But she had softened in his arm; and he knew she had been glad to feel its strength.

He gave up his hunting-trips to stay near Pella. In his absence, Antipatros would feel justified in taking decisions without him. Feeling short of exercise, and rambling through the stables, he found a chariot fitted up for the dismounters' race. Years ago he had meant to learn the trick, but then had come Mieza. The chariot was a synoris, a two-horse racer of walnut and pearwood; the bronze hand-grip for the dismounter was about the right height; it was not a race for big men. He had two Venetian ponies yoked to it, called for the royal charioteer, and began to practise jumping down in mid-course, running with the car and leaping up again. Besides being good exercise, it was Homeric; the dismounter was the last heir of the chariot-borne hero, who drove to the fray in order to fight on foot. His spare hours were given to acquiring this archaic skill; he became very fast at it. Old chariot-sheds were rummaged, so that friends could give him a race; this he enjoyed, but never arranged a formal one. He had disliked set contests, from as soon as he had been old enough to perceive that there were people who would let him win.

Dispatches came from Propontis, where Philip, as he had foretold, was finding Perinthos hard to crack. It stood on a headland impregnable from the sea, and strongly walled inland. The Perinthians, prospering and increasing on their steep rocks, had for years been building upward; four-and five-storey houses, rising in tiers like theatre benches, overlooked the ramparts, and now harboured slingers and javelineers to repel assaults. Philip, to give his men covering fire, had built hundred-foot siege towers, and mounted a platform of catapults; his sappers had brought down part of the wall, only to find an inner one, made from the first row of houses packed solid with rock, rubble and earth. As he had expected, too, the Byzantines were supplying the enemy; their fast triremes, with pilots expert in local waters (Macedon had never been a strong naval power) brought in crack troops, and kept open the way for the Great King's store-ships. He was fulfilling his pact with Athens.

King Philip, who dictated these reports, was a crisp and clear expositor. After reading one, Alexander would pace about, aware of the great campaign he was missing. Even the Seal was scant amends.

He was on the race-track one morning, when he saw Harpalos waving. A Palace messenger had passed the word to someone who could stop him without disrespect; it must be urgent. He jumped down from the car, ran with it a few steps to keep his balance, and came over, plastered with track-dust which coated his legs to the knee as thick as buskins. Through the mask of sweat-striped dirt shone his eyes, looking by contrast turquoise-blue. His friends stood well away, not from good manners but to keep him off their clothes. Harpalos murmured behind him, 'It's an odd thing; have you noticed he never stinks, when anyone else would be rank as a dog-fox? ' 'Ask Aristotle, ' said someone. 'No, I think he must burn it up. '

The messenger reported that a courier was in from the northeast border, awaiting the Prince's leisure.

He sent a servant running to fetch him a fresh chiton; stripped and scraped-down under the horse-yard fountain; and appeared in the audience-room just before Antipatros, the scroll still correctly sealed, had finished questioning the courier, who had more to tell. He had barely got back with his life from the highlands up the Strymon river, where Macedon knit with Thrace in a mesh of disputed gorges, mountains, forests and grazing-grounds.

Antipatros blinked with surprise at Alexander's uncanny promptness; the messenger blinked with exhaustion, his eyes gummed by lack of sleep. Having asked his name, Alexander said, 'You look dead tired; sit down. ' Clapping his hands he ordered wine for the man; while it came, he read the dispatch to Antipatros. When the man had drunk, he asked him what he knew.

The Maidoi were hillmen of a strain so ancient that Achaians, Dorians, Macedonians and Celts had all, in their southward drift, passed by the tribe's savage homeland in hope of better things. They had survived in the mountains and the Thracian weather, tough as wild goats, keeping up customs older than the age of bronze, and, when in spite of human sacrifice their food-gods were still unkind, raiding the settled lands. Philip had conquered them long ago, and taken their oaths of fealty; but with time he had grown dim to them and faded into legend. Their numbers had increased; boys come to manhood needed to blood their spears; they had broken south like a flash-flood in a river bed. Farms had been stripped and burned; Macedonian settlers and loyal Thracians had been cut up alive, their heads taken for trophies, their women carried away.

Antipatros, for whom this was a second hearing, watched the youth in the chair of state, waiting kindly to meet his need with reassurance. He remained, however, with his eyes fixed on the messenger, sitting forward eagerly.

'Rest awhile, ' he said presently. 'I want a few things in writing. ' When the scribe appeared, he dictated, checking them with the messenger, the Maidoi's movements and the main features of the country; adding, himself, a sketch-map worked up in the wax. Having checked this too, he ordered that the man be bathed, fed and put to bed, and sent out the clerk.

'I thought, ' he said scanning the tablets, 'we should get all this from him now. A night's sleep should set him up, but one never knows, he might die. I want him well rested till I start out, so that I can take him as a guide. '

Antipatros' brows with their foxy grizzle met over his fierce nose. He had felt this coming, but decided not to believe in it.

'Alexander, you know how gladly I would have you with me. But you know too it is impossible we should both be out of Macedon, with the King at war. '

Alexander sat back in his chair. His hair, streaked with dust and damp from his makeshift bath, hung limply on his brow; his nails and his toes were grimy. His eyes were cool, and made no pretence at naivety. 'But of course, Antipatros. I should never think of such a thing. I shall leave you the Seal, while I am gone. '

Antipatros opened his mouth, breathed deep and paused. Alexander cut in ahead, with inflexible courtesy. 'I haven't it on me, I've been at exercise. You shall have it when I leave Pella. '

'Alexander! Only consider... '

Alexander, who had been watching him like a duellist, made a small gesture to say he had not done speaking. After a crucial instant, Antipatros' voice trailed off. With stately formality, Alexander said, 'Both my father and I know our great good fortune, in having such a man to entrust the realm to. ' He stood up, feet apart, hands on his belt, and tossed back his tousled hair. 'I'm going, Antipatros. Settle your mind to it, because we're short of time. I shall start at dawn tomorrow. '

Antipatros, who perforce had risen too, tried to use his height but found it ineffectual. 'If you will, you will. But just think first. You're a good field officer, that's common knowledge. The men like you, agreed. But you've never mounted a campaign, or kept it in supplies, or planned its strategy. Do you know what that country's like? '

'By this time they'll be down in the Strymon valley; that's what they came for. We'll discuss supplies at the war-council. I'm calling one in an hour. '

'Do you realize, Alexander, that if you lose, half Thrace will blaze up like a fire of myrtle-brush? Your father's lines will be cut; and once the news is out, I'll be holding the north-west against the Illyrians. '

'What troops would you need for that? '

'If you lose, there wouldn't be enough in Macedon. '

Alexander tilted his head a little to the left; his gaze, floating beyond Antipatros' head, went slightly out of focus. 'Also, if I lose, the men won't trust me again and I shall never be a general. Also, my father may well say I'm no son of his, and I shall never be a king. Well, I shall have to win, it seems. '

Antipatros thought, Kassandros should never have crossed him…The eggshell was cracking indeed. One must already be very careful. 'What about me? What will he say to me for letting you go? '

'If I lose, you mean? That I should have taken your advice. Write it down, and I'll sign to say you gave it me; win or lose, it goes to my father. How's that for a fair bet? '

Antipatros looked sharply from under his shaggy brows. 'Ah. But you'd hold it against me after. '

'Oh yes, ' said Alexander blandly. 'Of course I should; what do you suppose? You make your bet, Antipatros. You can't expect to hedge it. I can't hedge mine. '

'I think the stakes as they stand are high enough. ' Antipatros smiled, remembering that already one must be careful. 'Let me know what you want, then. I've bet on worse horses in my time. '

Alexander was on his feet all day, except during the war-council. He could have sat while he was sending out orders, but he could think more quickly pacing to and fro; perhaps it came from the walking discussions at Mieza. He had meant to see his mother earlier, but there had been no time. He went when he had settled everything, but did not stay very long; she was inclined to make a fuss, though surely this was what she had been wanting. She would see that later. Meantime he had Phoinix to say good-bye to; and it was important to get some sleep.

It was a quiet morning in the camp before Perinthos; there had been an engagement on the wall the night before, and the men were being rested. The noises were those of lull: mules whinnied, men serviced the engines with shouts and clanks, a man with a head-wound shouted insanely from the hospital shed; a captain of artillery, detailed to see the besieged did not take a holiday, shouted to his crew to lift her up a chock, and grease the bolt-track; there was a clang from the pile of massive bolt-heads, each stamped with the laconic message, from philip.

Philip had had a large timbered hut put up for him; when not on the move, there was no sense in using the royal tent, to sweat under stinking leather. He had made himself snug like an old campaigner; local straw matting covered the floor, his baggage-train had carried chairs, lampstands, a bath, and a bed broad enough for company. At a pinewood table, made by the camp carpenters, he sat with Parmenion, reading a dispatch.

'Having summoned also the troops from Pydna and Amphipolis, I marched north to Therma. I had planned to go by the Great East Road to Amphipolis, to learn the enemy's movements, and to make whatever dispositions seemed best, before going north up river.

'But at Therma, a rider met me, from the country of the Agrianoi. He had been sent by Lambaros, my guest-friend, in fulfilment of a vow.

'Guest-friend? ' said Philip. 'Guest-friend? What does he mean? The boy was a hostage. You remember, Parmenion. I'd have bet a talent the Agrianoi would have joined the Maidoi. '

'What was it you told me, ' said Parmenion, 'about the Prince slipping off for a jaunt among the tribesmen, after you'd sent him back to school? I well remember you swearing when you heard. '

'That's so, that's so. It slipped my memory. A crazy escapade, he was lucky not to have had his throat cut. I don't take hostages from tribes I think are safe. Guest-friend! Well, let's see. '

'Having heard you were in the east, he sent me word that the Maidoi were in the upper Strymon valley, laying everything waste. They had invited his people to join them in the war; but King Teres respected the oaths exchanged when you returned his son to him.

'Wouldn't burn his fingers. But it was the boy who sent the message. How old will he be now? About seventeen.

'He advised me to march quickly up river to Rushing Gate, as they call the steep throat of the gorge, and reinforce the old fort there, before they came down into the plain. I therefore decided not to lose time myself by going to Amphipolis, but to send Koinos with my orders to bring on the troops from there; I would lead the men I had straight up over the Krousia range by the trackways, and ford the Strymon at Siris, where Koinos would meet me with men, fresh horses and supplies, we ourselves travelling light. When I told the men what kind of dangers threatened our colonists in the plain, they made good going; the tracks being difficult, I went on foot with them, encouraging them to hurry. '

Philip looked up. 'Some secretary polished this. But touches of nature show.

'We crossed over Krousia and forded Strymon by noon on the third day. '

'What? ' said Parmenion staring. 'Over Krousia? It's sixty miles. '

'He moved light, and encouraged them to hurry.

'Koinos met me promptly with all orders carried out. This officer acted with speed and address, and I commend him highly. Also he talked sense to Stasandros commanding at Amphipolis, who thought I should have wasted three days marching out that way and asking him what to do.

'Added, ' said Philip with a grin, 'in his own hand.

'Through Koinos' good management of his mission, I got the forces I had asked for, one thousand men... '

Parmenion's jaw dropped. He did not attempt comment.

'Which, though it left Amphipolis undermanned, still seemed to me most prudent, since for every day the Maidoi went undefeated, the chance grew greater of their being joined by other tribes. I had lookouts and beacons between me and the coast, to warn me if the Athenians should attack by sea. '

'Ah, ' mused Parmenion. 'Still, I wonder he got a steady man like Koinos to take it on. '

'But before we reached the Strymon, the Maidoi had already overrun the fort at Rushing Gate, had reached the plain and begun to ravage the farms. Some had crossed the Strymon westward to the silver mine, killed the guards and slaves, and carried home the bar silver through the river pass. This decided me that it would not be enough to beat them off the farmlands; their own settlement ought to be reduced by war. '

'Did he know, ' asked Parmenion incredulously, 'where it is? '

'When I had looked over the troops, I sacrificed to the appropriate gods, and to Herakles, and was given good auguries by the diviners. Also, one of the loyal Paionians told me that while hunting early, he had seen a wolf as it fed upon a carcase, taken by a young lion. The soldiers were pleased with the omen, and I rewarded the man with gold.

'He deserved it, ' said Philip. 'The shrewdest of the diviners. '

'Before starting my advance, I sent five hundred chosen hill-men to go under cover of the woods and surprise the fort at the Gate. Lambaros my guest-friend had advised me that it would be held by the worst of the enemy, since none of their foremost warriors would forego his share of the loot to secure their rear. My men found this to be true. They found also the bodies of our garrison, and saw that our wounded had been maltreated. As I had ordered should this be so, they threw the Maidoi down the cliffs into the rapids. They then manned the fort and both flanks of the gorge. Kephalon led; an energetic officer.

'In the valley, some of our colonists had sent off their families to safety, and stayed themselves to fight off the enemy. I commended them for their courage, issued them with arms, and promised them a year's tax remission.

'Young men never know where money comes from, ' said the King. 'You can be sure he never thought to ask what their tax was worth.

'I now led all my forces north up the valley, with my right flank advanced to deny the high ground to the enemy. Where we came on dispersed bands looting, these we destroyed; the rest we worked north-east, worrying them like herd-dogs getting the flock together, lest they should scatter off into the hills without giving us battle. Thracians trust everything to their first headlong rush, and do not like to stand.

'They collected where I had hoped, in a tongue of land where the river makes an elbow with the lake. They reckoned, as I thought they would, on the river securing their backs; I reckoned to push them into it. There was a ford at their rear, known for being deep and treacherous. By the time they had wet their bowstrings and lost their heavy arms, they should be ready to make for home through the pass, not knowing that my men held it.

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