Alexander: Child of a Dream (18 page)

 
‘As a token of our good faith we will cede command of our land troops to you while we retain sole control of the fleet and we undertake to finance two thirds of the total expenses.’
There came a murmuring from the rows of the assembly and the orator realized that his words had hit their mark. He then prepared to deliver the final blow, well aware of the risk he was about to run possible
repudiation by his own government.
‘For over half a century,’ he began again, ‘the cities of Plataea and Thespiae, although part of Boeotia, have been allies of Athens, and Athens has always guaranteed their independence. Now we are willing to bring them under your control, to convince them to accept your authority, if you will accept our proposal and unite with us in the battle against the tyrant.’
Demosthenes’ passion, his inspired tone, the timbre of his voice, the force of his arguments, all combined to help him achieve his desired aim. When he fell silent, breathless and with sweat dripping from his forehead, many in the assembly stood up to applaud him and they were joined by others and then more again until the entire theatre was paying tribute to him in a long ovation.
What had convinced them, above and beyond the energy of the Athenian orator, had been the arrogance of Philip’s envoy on top of the Macedonian intimidation and blackmail. The President of the assembly ratified the decisions taken and called upon his secretary to inform the embassy of the King of Macedon that the city of Thebes had unanimously rejected both their requests and their offers and called upon them to leave Boeotian territory by sunset the following day, on pain of being arrested and tried as spies.
Philip became a raging bull when he heard the news because he had never imagined that the Thebans were crazy enough to challenge him while he was virtually at the gates of their territory. But he had to accept the results of the debate.
When his rage had quietened he sat down, pulling his cloak up around his knees as he did so, and mumbled a thank you to Eudemus of Oreus who in the end had simply carried out his King’s orders. The envoy, who had remained standing until that moment, bearing witness to the King’s fury, saw that the worst was over and asked for permission to take his leave before moving towards the door.
‘Wait!’ Philip called him back, ‘What is Demosthenes like?’ Eudemus stopped on the threshold and turned back. ‘A bundle of nerves that cries out “Freedom!”’ he replied. And he left.
Philip barely had time to get over the shock when the new allies were already in action. Theban and Athenian light troops occupied all the mountain passes so as to block any enemy military initiative towards Boeotia and Attica. The King, finding himself in trouble because of the bad weather and the general situation which had become decidedly difficult and risky, resolved to return to Pella leaving a contingent in Thessaly under the command of Parmenion and Cleitus the Black.
Alexander took command of a division of the royal guard and went to meet his father at the border with Thessaly. From there he escorted him home.
‘Do you see what I meant now?’ Philip said to him after they greeted each other. ‘There was no rush. We still haven’t gone into action and the game is wide open.’
‘But it looks as though everything is going against us. Thebes and Athens are allies now and they have already achieved important successes.’
The King waved his hand as though chasing away some source of minor irritation. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Leave them to dream and enjoy the sweetness of their successes. Their awakening will be much more bitter. I have never sought a direct conflict with the Athenians and I have asked the Thebans to keep out of this matter. But they have dragged us by the hair into this war and now I have to teach them who’s the strongest. There will be more deaths, more devastation: all of this is repugnant, but I am left with no choice.’

 
‘What do you think you will do?’ Alexander asked.
‘I will wait for spring, for now. Making war in warm weather is a bit easier, but above all else I want to have enough time to think about this situation. Remember, my boy, I never fight for the pleasure of wielding weapons. War, for me, is simply politics by other means.’
They continued for a while in silence, the King apparently observing the countryside and the people at work in the fields. Then, out of the blue, he asked, ‘By the way, how was that surprise I arranged for you?’

23
‘I really don’t understand my father!’ exclaimed Alexander. ‘We have a chance to win the day by dint of force of arms and he chooses instead the humiliation of a match with the Athenian orator only

 

to come out of it the loser. He could have attacked first and negotiated later.’

 

‘I agree,’ replied Hephaestion. ‘I think it was a big mistake. Strike first, parley later.’

 

Eumenes and Callisthenes were following behind on their horses at the same pace, and the group was travelling in the direction of Pharsalus to deliver a message from Philip to the allies of the Thessalian League.

 

‘But I understand his reasoning perfectly,’ Eumenes joined in, ‘and I approve of it. You well know that your father lived in Thebes for over a year as a hostage when he was a youth, in the house of Pelopidas, the greatest Greek strategist of the last hundred years. He was deeply impressed with the political system of the Theban city-state, its formidable military organization and its rich culture. Out of this experience in Thebes during his formative years came the desire to spread Hellenic civilization throughout Macedon and to unite the Greeks in one large confederation.’

 

‘Just as things were at the time of the Trojan War,’ observed Callisthenes. ‘This is what your father has in mind first

 

unite the Greek states and then lead them against Asia as Agamemnon did against the empire of King Priam, almost a thousand years ago.’

 

At these words Alexander piped up, ‘A thousand years ago? A thousand years have passed since the Trojan War?’

 

 
‘Just five years to go before the thousandth anniversary,’ Callisthenes replied.
‘It must be a sign,’ murmured Alexander. ‘It’s got to be a sign.’
‘What do you mean?’ Eumenes asked.
‘Nothing. But doesn’t it seem strange to you that in five years’ time I’ll be the same age Achilles was when he set out for Troy and this will coincide with the thousandth anniversary of the war sung by Homer?’
‘No, it doesn’t seem strange,’ replied Callisthenes. ‘History sometimes reproduces, at a distance of many years, the same combinations of circumstance that generate great achievements. But nothing ever repeats itself in exactly the same way.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Alexander. And for a moment he frowned as though lost in following fleeting, far-off images in his mind.
Hephaestion put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. ‘I know what you are thinking about. And whatever you decide to do, wherever you decide to go, I will follow you. Even to hell. Even to the ends of the earth.’
Alexander turned and looked him in the eye. ‘I know,’ he said.
They reached their destination around sunset and Alexander received the honours befitting the heir to the throne of Macedon. Then, together with his friends, he went to the dinner which the representatives of the Thessalian Confederation had organized for him. At that time Philip also held the title of Tagos, President of the Confederation, and indeed he was actually head of two states of
one as King and of the other as President.
The Thessalians, like the Macedonians, were heavy drinkers, but during the dinner Eumenes did not touch a drop and he made the most of this advantage in striking a deal with a rather merry nobleman for the purchase of some horses. The terms and conditions of payment he managed to win were extremely beneficial both for himself and for Macedon.
The next day, his mission accomplished, Alexander left again with his friends, but not far along the road he changed his clothes, dismissed the guard and took the southward road.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Eumenes, surprised at this change of plan.
‘I’m going with him,’ said Hephaestion.
‘Yes, but where to?’
‘To Aulis,’ replied Alexander.
‘The port from which the Achaeans set sail for the war against Troy,’ commented Callisthenes matter-offactly.
‘Aulis? But you must be mad!’ exclaimed Eumenes. ‘Auhs is in Boeotia, in the very midst of enemy territory.’
‘But I want to see the place and I will see it,’ affirmed the Prince. ‘No one will notice us.’
‘I repeat, you’re mad,’ continued Eumenes. ‘You will most certainly be noticed: as soon as you open your mouths they’ll notice your accents, and if you don’t open your mouths they’ll wonder why. And then your portrait, Alexander, has been distributed in many cities. Do you realize what the consequences will be if you’re caught? Your father will be forced to make a deal, to abandon his plans or, if things go well, to pay a ransom that will cost him as much as a defeat in war. No, I won’t have anything to do with this madness. Let’s pretend I haven’t even heard you speak of it. Actually, let’s say I haven’t even seen you you
left in silence before dawn.’
‘That’s fine,’ nodded Alexander. ‘And don’t you worry: Aulis is only a few hundred stadia into Boeotian territory. We’ll be there and back in two days. And if anyone does stop us, we’ll say that we are pilgrims on our way to consult the oracle at Delphi.’
‘In Boeotia? But Delphi is in Phocis.’
‘We’ll tell them we got lost!’ shouted Hephaestion as he kicked his horse and set off at a gallop.

 
Callisthenes looked at his one remaining travelling companion, unsure as to what he should do.
‘What are your intentions?’ Eumenes asked him.
The? Well, if on the one hand my deep fondness for Alexander leads me to want to follow him, on the other hand the natural prudence which is most becoming to a…’
‘I see,’ Eumenes cut him short. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘May Zeus strike the pair of you down with a thunderbolt if you don’t stop.’ Alexander and Hephaestion did as he asked and Eumenes set off after them saying, ‘At least I haven’t got a Macedonian accent and, if necessary, I can pass as a Boeotian oaf
‘Ha! There’s no doubt about that!’ said Hephaestion.
‘Go ahead and laugh,’ grumbled Eumenes as he urged his horse into a trot. ‘If King Philip were here he’d make you laugh with the help of a few lashes across your back. Come on, let’s go, let’s get a move on.’
‘What about Callisthenes?’ asked Alexander.
‘He’ll come, he’ll come,’ replied Eumenes. ‘Where else can he go on his own?’
They passed the Gates of Thermopylae the following day and Alexander stopped to visit the tombs of the Spartan soldiers who had fallen one hundred and forty years previously during their battle with the Persian invaders. He read the simple inscription in Laconian dialect that commemorated their ultimate sacrifice and he stood in silence listening to the wind blowing in from the sea.
‘How ephemeral is the destiny of man!’ he exclaimed. ‘All that is left of the thunder of a momentous clash which shook the whole world and an act of heroism worthy of Homer’s verses are these few lines. All is quiet now.’
They travelled through Locris and Phocis without much trouble in just a couple of days, and entered Boeotia along the sea road. In front of them was the coast of the island of Euboea, its form sculpted by the noonday rays of the sun and the dazzling waters of the Euripus strait. A small fleet of a dozen triremes was cruising offshore and on their sails, full of wind, they could make out the owl symbol of Athens.
‘If only that navarch had any idea of who is standing here on this beach watching his ships go by,’ murmured Eumenes.
‘Let’s go,’ said Callisthenes. ‘Let’s get this journey over with as soon as possible. We are close now.’ But deep down he was afraid that Alexander might decide to ask them to accompany him on some even more reckless mission.
Just as they reached the top of a hill the small bay of Aulis appeared suddenly before them. Opposite, on the Euboean shore, the city of Chalcis shone white in the distance. The water was intensely blue and the woods of holm-oak and oak that covered the slopes of the hill came down almost as far as the sea, giving way first to the low bushes of myrtle and strawberry-tree and then a slender line of pebbles and red sand.
A lone fishing boat sailed the sea opposite the deserted port from which the thousand Achaean ships had set off.
The four young men dismounted and looked on in silence at that place which was so like a thousand other points along the Hellenic coastline, and yet was so different. At that moment Alexander recalled the words of his father as he held him he
was still a boy on
the gallery of the palace at Pella and told him about far-off, limitless Asia.
‘This place could never hold a thousand ships,’ observed Hephaestion, breaking the magic of the silence.
‘No,’ admitted Callisthenes. ‘But for the poet they could never have been any fewer. A poet, Hephaestion, sings not to narrate human events as they occur, but to make sure that we have the opportunity of living the emotions and the passions of our heroes even at a distance of centuries.’
Alexander turned towards him, his eyes brimming with feeling. ‘Do you think there might exist somewhere in our time a man capable of feats that could inspire a poet as great as Homer?’
‘Poets create heroes, Alexander,’ said Callisthenes, ‘it doesn’t

 
work the other way round. And poets are only born when the sea, the sky and the earth are all in harmony.’
On entering Thessaly on their way back, they came across a unit of the royal guard that had been sent out to look for them, and Eumenes had to spin some tale about his having fallen ill and the others having decided not to abandon him: no one believed it. But the trip to Aulis had provided Alexander with proof of the fact that his friends were ready to follow him, even when they were afraid, as Eumenes and Callisthenes had indeed been. Apart from this, however, he had also realized that being away from Pancaspe was a considerable strain and he really was looking forward now to seeing her naked on his bed, in the golden light of the lamps.
But the return to Pella was interrupted by events: the situation had suddenly worsened and the King, having mobilized the army, was marching towards Phocis to take the passes. Time had not made any of the contenders any wiser and once again the cry of war drowned out all other voices.
Alexander was summoned to his father’s tent that same evening and Philip asked nothing about his son and heir’s late return from the mission in Thessaly; he simply showed him the map he had on his table and said:
‘Chares, the Athenian commander, with ten thousand mercenaries on his payroll, has been seen on the road between Kithinion and Amphissa, but he does not know that we are here. I will march all night and tomorrow morning I will personally rouse him from his slumber. You must hold this position and you must not leave it for any reason. As soon as Chares has been taken care of I will come back this way, through the Krissos valley, and I will cut the Athenians and the Thebans off in their mountain passes. They will be forced to abandon their positions and retreat to their first stronghold in Boeotia.’ He placed his index finger on the map at the point where he thought his enemies would retreat to. ‘And you will meet me there with your cavalry. At Chaeronaea.’