The western wind responded to the appearance of the radiant face of the god of light by making waves in the great sea of grass that extended there before them, caressing the tufts of golden reeds and the purple crocuses, the red petals of the mountain lilies. Flocks of birds took to the air and flew towards the centre of the sky, standing out against the cirrus clouds which soared high and white like dove wings, and herds of deer came out of the forest and ran towards the sparkling torrents and the pastures.
At that moment there appeared, at the top of a hill, the agile figure of an Amazon, clad only in a short chiton over her naked, slender legs, a young girl with long golden hair astride a white horse with a flowing tail and mane.
‘Cleopatra wanted to see you,’ said the King of Epirus. ‘I couldn’t say no.’
‘There was no need to say no. I too wanted to see her more than anything. Wait for me here.’
He jumped onto his steed and galloped to the young girl who sat waiting for him, trembling with emotion, resplendent like a statue of Artemis.
They dismounted, ran to each other and embraced, kissing on the cheek, kissing each other’s eyelids, their hair; they hugged each other with a mutual sweetness and concern that was deeply moving.
‘My beloved, my sweet, my gentle sister …” Alexander said as he looked at her with infinite tenderness.
‘My Alexander, my King, my Lord, my beloved brother, light of my eyes …’ and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. ‘Will I ever see you again?’ she asked, her eyes moist with tears.
‘No one can know the answer to that question, my sister, for our destiny lies in the hands of the gods. But I swear that you will always be in my heart in
the deep silence of the night as in the clamour of battle, in the burning of the desert as in the mountain cold. I will call your name every evening before going to sleep, and I hope the wind will carry my voice to you. Fare thee well, Cleopatra.’
‘Farewell, Brother. I will go up every evening to the highest tower in the palace and I will listen out until the wind brings me your voice, and the scent of your hair. Fare thee well, Alexandre …”
Cleopatra sped off in tears on her steed, unable to bear the
sight of her brother’s departure. Alexander returned slowly to his brother-in-law who was waiting for him below, leaning on the trunk of the giant plane tree. He dismounted and gave both hands to his namesake; his voice when he spoke was full of emotion:
‘And so we must leave each other here. Farewell, King of the West, King of the Red Sun and of Mount Atlantis, King of the Pillars of Hercules. When we see each other again it will be to celebrate a new era for all humanity. But if fate or the envy of the gods should deny us that meeting, may our embrace now be stronger than time, stronger than death, and may our dream burn for ever like the flames of the sun.’
‘Farewell, King of the East, King of the White Sun and of Mount Paropamisus, Lord of the Far Ocean. May our dream burn for ever, whatever be the destiny that awaits us.’
They embraced, overcome by emotion, while the breeze entwined their lions’ hair, while their tears mingled just as their blood had mingled. It was a solemn, poignant rite in the presence of the sky and the earth, in the midst of the wind’s strength.
Then they jumped astride their steeds and spurred them on -the
King of the Molossians off towards the Evening and Sunset, the King of Macedon towards the Morning and the Dawn. At that moment not even the gods knew what fate awaited them because only Fate, the inscrutable, can ever know all the highways and the byways of such great men.
48
the army began to assemble with the arrival of the first spring winds, starting with battalions of the heavy infantry of the pezhetairoi, fully equipped, with their enormous sarissae on their shoulders. In the front lines were the young men, lined up with the shining copper Argead star on their shields, then came the more experienced soldiers sporting the bronze star and then, last but not least, the veterans, the shields on their arms bearing the silver star.
They all wore helmets in the shape of a Phrygian cap with a short visor, together with red tunics and cloaks. And when they took part in military exercises, carrying out turns or simulating attacks in the field, the sarissae would clash one against the other, creating a tremendous noise, as if the wind were blowing through the branches of a forest of bronze. And when the officers ordered them to lower their pikes, the immense phalanx looked horrifying, like a porcupine bristling with spines of steel.
The hetairoi cavalry were drawn from among the nobility,
district by district, equipped with heavy armour covering them
down to their abdomens and with Boeotian helmets with wide
brims. They rode magnificent Thessalian horses, raised on the
. rich pastures of the plain and along the banks of the great rivers.
The fleet gathered in the northern ports and was joined by Athenian and Corinthian divisions because there was some fear of an attack by the Persian imperial navy, led by a Greek admiral called Memnon, a formidable man in terms of cunning and experience, but above all else a man of his word who would respect his commitments, no matter what the outcome.
Eumenes had met him in Asia and warned Alexander one day when the King came to inspect the fleet aboard the flagship: ‘Be careful, Alexander, Memnon is a principled mercenary who only ever sells his sword once and to one person only. His price is high, but then it’s as if he has sworn loyalty to a new homeland -nothing
and no one will ever make him change allegiance and flag.
‘His fleet has both Greek and Phoenician crews and he can count on the clandestine support of the considerable number of adversaries you still have in Greece. Imagine what might happen if he were to unleash a surprise attack while we are ferrying our army from one side of the Straits to the other.
‘My informers have created a system of reflected light signals between the Asian and European coasts so as to raise an immediate alarm should Memnon’s fleet approach. We know that the Persian satraps from the western provinces have confirmed his supreme command of all their forces in Asia. His mission is to engage and neutralize your invasion force, but for the moment we have no news of his battle plans -we
only have very limited information.’
‘And how long will it take to gather more?’ asked Alexander.
‘Perhaps a month.’
‘That’s too long. We are setting out in four days’ time.’
Eumenes looked at him in amazement. ‘Four days? But that’s madness, we don’t have enough supplies yet. I told you -what
we have now is only enough for a month, more or less. We must at least wait until the new deliveries arrive from Mount Pangaeos.’
‘No, Eumenes. I will wait no longer. With each day that passes the enemy has more opportunity to organize his defences, to muster troops, to employ mercenaries … Greek ones even. We must strike as soon as possible. What do you think Memnon will do?’
‘Memnon has already fought successfully against your father’s generals. Ask Parmenion just how easy it is to predict his moves.’
‘But what do you think he will do?’
‘He will lead you far away landwards,’ said a voice behind Eumenes, ‘towards the interior, razing the earth in his wake, and then his fleet will sever your seaward communications and supplies.’
‘Do you know Admiral Nearchus?’ asked Eumenes.
Alexander shook the man’s hand. ‘Hail, Admiral!’
‘Excuse me, Sire,’ said Nearchus, a robust Cretan with broad shoulders and black hair and eyes. ‘I was busy with preparations and wasn’t able to reach you until now.’
‘Is what you have just told us your sincere view of this situation?’
‘Frankly … yes. Memnon knows that to challenge you on the open field would be dangerous because he doesn’t have sufficient numbers of troops to deal with your infantry, but he almost certainly knows that you are lacking in reserves.’
‘And how would he know that?’
‘Because the Persians’ intelligence-gathering system is second to none -they
have spies everywhere and they are extremely well paid. What’s more, they can count on many friends and sympathizers in Athens, in Sparta, Corinth and even here, in Macedon. All he need do is gain a little time and then instigate skirmishing operations by land and by sea behind you -we
will find ourselves in trouble, and perhaps even in a trap.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I simply want you to be on your guard, Sire. What you are about to undertake is no ordinary enterprise.’
The ship was moving offshore with its prow breaking the waves of the open sea, the spray flying. The chief oarsman was beating the rhythm and the rowers bent and straightened their shining backs under the brightness of the sun, alternately immersing and raising the long oars.
Alexander appeared lost in listening to the rhythm of the drum and the calls of the rowers as they sought to maintain their timing.
‘It seems this Memnon inspires fear in everyone,’ he suddenly said.
‘Not fear, Sire,’ Nearchus asserted. ‘We are simply considering a possible scenario. Indeed, in my opinion it is a most likely one.’
‘You are right, Admiral. We are weakest and most exposed at sea, but on land we are invincible -no
one can beat us.’
‘For now,’ said Eumenes.
‘For now,’ admitted Alexander.
‘And so?’ asked Eumenes again.
‘Even the most powerful of fleets has need of ports, is that not the case, Admiral?’
‘There is no doubt of that at all, Sire, but…’
‘To cut him off you would have to occupy all the ports of call along the coast from the Straits to the delta of the Nile,’ said Eumenes.
‘Exactly,’ replied Alexander, without batting an eyelid.
On the eve of their departure the King returned from Aegae in the dead of night. He had been there to offer a sacrifice on Philip’s tomb and he went straight to his mother’s apartments. The Queen was still awake, embroidering a cloak by lamplight. When Alexander knocked at her door she went to him and embraced him.
‘I never imagined this moment would come,’ she said, trying to conceal her emotion.
‘You have seen me set off on other expeditions, Mother.’
‘But it’s different this time. I feel it. I have had strange dreams, difficult to interpret.’
‘I can imagine. Aristotle says that dreams are the offspring of our minds and so we must search for the answer within our own selves.’
‘I have sought it there, but for some time now I have found that looking within myself gives me a sense of vertigo, almost fear.’
‘And I’m sure you know why.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing. You are my mother, and yet you “are the most mysterious being I have ever known.’
‘I am simply an unhappy woman. And now you are setting off on a long war, abandoning me here. But it was written that these things would happen, and that you should accomplish extraordinary, superhuman feats.’
‘What does that mean?’
Olympias turned towards the window as if searching for images and memories among the stars or on the face of the moon. ‘Once, before you were born, I dreamed that a god had touched me as I slept alongside your father in our bed chamber and one day, at Dodona, while I was expecting you, the wind that blew through the branches of the sacred oaks whispered me your name
Alexandras.
There are some men born of mortal women whose destinies are different from those of ordinary mortals, and you are one of these, my son, I am sure of it. I have always felt it is a privilege to be your mother, but saying farewell to you is no less bitter for that.’
‘Neither is it for me, Mother. I lost my father recently, remember? And someone has told me that you were seen placing a garland around the neck of the assassin.’
That man avenged the cruel humiliations that Philip had inflicted upon me, and by his actions he also made you King.’
That man was carrying out someone else’s orders. Why don’t you put a garland of flowers around that person’s neck too?’
‘Because I don’t know who that person is.’
‘But sooner or later I will find out, and I will nail him to a pole.’
‘And if your real father was a god?’
Alexander closed his eyes and saw Philip once more, falling into a lake of blood, he saw him collapse slowly as in a dream and he could clearly distinguish every crease that the pain wrote
so cruelly on his father’s face before it killed him. He felt burning tears come welling up in his eyes.
‘If my father is a god then one day I will meet him. But certainly he will never be able to do for me what Philip did. I have offered sacrifices to his wrathful shadow, Mother.’
Olympias looked out to the sky and said, ‘The Oracle at Dodona gave an omen for your birth. Another oracle, in the midst of a burning desert, will presage another birth for you, for a new life that will never perish.’ Then she turned and suddenly threw herself into his arms. ‘Think of me, my son. For I will think of you every single day and every single night. My spirit will shield you in battle, heal your wounds, lead you through the dark, defeat all malign influences, salve your fevers. I love you, Alexander, more than anything in this world.’
‘I love you too, Mother, and I will think of you every day. And now let us take our leave, because we set out before dawn.’
Olympias kissed him on the cheeks, on his eyelids and on his forehead and she continued to embrace him as though she simply could not bear to let go.
Alexander extricated himself gently from the embrace with one last kiss and said, ‘Farewell, Mother. Take good care.’
