Aegypt led the march, fourteen hundred veterans. When they entered Alexandria, they sang the Paean, and the crowds cheered them as they cheered no other troops, and Namastis embraced Diokles and Amyntas and Satyrus and Abraham when they were dismissed as if they were all brothers.
And fathers and mothers wept for the dead.
But the war, and the world, marched on.
Alexander’s funeral games had cost a few thousand more lives. But there was still no shortage of contestants.
A week after they returned to Alexandria, Leon sent Satyrus to the slave market with twenty talents of pure gold and Diokles and Abraham as his lieutenants. ‘Buy the best of the Macedonian prisoners,’ Leon said.
‘What for?’ Melitta asked. Everything made her grumpy now – Sappho’s displeasure and Coenus’s too-careful attention.
‘They’ll be the core of our infantry,’ Leon said. ‘Next summer. When we sail for the Euxine.’
That made even Melitta smile, and she waved at Satyrus as he left for the slave pens, accompanied by his friends and some hired guards because of the money.
The captive phalangites looked terrible – underfed, hopeless. They didn’t look like soldiers. Most didn’t even raise their eyes as Satyrus walked among them, and they stank.
‘We want these?’ Satyrus asked Diokles, who still favoured his right shoulder and rubbed it a great deal.
‘There’s a sight for sore eyes,’ said a familiar voice.
Satyrus turned his head, and there was Draco, and Philip his partner.
Satyrus grabbed the slave factor. ‘I’ll take that pair,’ he said.
‘That’s our boy,’ Draco said. He managed a smile. ‘Zeus Soter, lad. I thought we were dead men, and no mistake.’
‘Dead and dead,’ Philip managed. He looked as if he was dead.
Despite their filth, Satyrus hugged them.
‘What’s the game, then?’ Philip asked, eyeing the gold.
‘I want two thousand of the best,’ Satyrus said. ‘Help me choose them.’
‘What for?’ Draco asked. ‘Ares’ dick, lad, that’s more gold than I’ve ever seen except Persepolis.’
‘I’m raising an army.’ Satyrus grinned. ‘With my sister.’
‘Well, lad, the best are mostly dead,’ Draco said. ‘At Arbela and Jaxartes and Gabiene and a dozen other fields across the world.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Free men? You’ll buy us free?’
‘Of course,’ Satyrus said.
‘All right then,’ Draco said, and the fire returned to his voice. Just like that. He straightened up, and began to point at men who were lying in their own filth. ‘Party is over, boys,’ he shouted. ‘We’re going to be free. This here is Satyrus, and he’s our strategos.’
The Macedonians shuffled to their feet.
Satyrus watched, and was afraid. ‘Philokles used to call war the ultimate tyrant,’ he said.
Abraham nodded. ‘Tyrant indeed.’
HISTORICAL NOTE
Writing a novel – several novels, I hope – about the wars of the Diadochi, or Successors, is a difficult game for an amateur historian to play. There are many, many players, and many sides, and frankly, none of them are ‘good’. From the first, I had to make certain decisions, and most of them had to do with limiting the cast of characters to a size that the reader could assimilate without insulting anyone’s intelligence. Antigonus One-Eye and his older son Demetrios deserve novels of their own – as do Cassander, and Eumenes and Ptolemy and Seleucus – and Olympia and the rest. Every one of them could be portrayed as the ‘hero’ and the others as villains.
If you feel that you need a scorecard, consider visiting my website at www.hippeis.com where you can at least review the biographies of some of the main players. Wikipedia has full biographies on most of the players in the period, as well.
From a standpoint of purely military history, I’ve made some decisions that knowledgeable readers may find odd. For example, I no longer believe in the ‘linothorax’ or linen breastplate, and I’ve written it out of the novels. Nor do I believe that the Macedonian pike system – the sarissa armed phalanx – was really any ‘better’ than the old Greek hoplite system. In fact, I suspect it was worse – as the experience of early modern warfare suggests that the longer your pikes are, the less you trust your troops. Macedonian farm boys were not hoplites – they lacked the whole societal and cultural support system that created the hoplite. They were decisive in their day – but as to whether they were ‘better’ than the earlier system – well, as with much of military change, it was a cultural change, not really a technological one. Or so it seems to me.
Elephants were not tanks, nor were they a magical victory tool. They could be very effective, or utterly ineffective. I’ve tried to show both situations.
The same can be said of horse-archery. On open ground, with endless remounts and a limitless arrow supply, a horse-archer army must have been a nightmare. But a few hundred horse-archers on the vast expanse of a Successor battlefield might only have been a nuisance.
Ultimately, though, I don’t believe in ‘military’ history. War is about economics, religion, art, society – war is inseparable from culture. You could not – in this period – train an Egyptian peasant to be a horse-archer without changing his way of life and his economy, his social status, perhaps his religion. Questions about military technology – ‘Why didn’t Alexander create an army of [insert technological wonder here]?’ – ignore the constraints imposed by the realities of the day – the culture of Macedon, which carried, it seems to me, the seeds of its own destruction from the first.
And then there is the problem of sources. In as much as we know anything about the world of the Diadochi, we owe that knowledge to a few authors, none of whom is actually contemporary. I used Diodorus Siculus throughout the writing of the Tyrant books – in most cases I prefer him to Arrian or Polybius, and in many cases he’s the sole source. I also admit to using (joyously!) any material that Plutarch could provide, even though I fully realize his moralizing ways.
For anyone who wants to get a quick lesson in the difficulties of the sources for the period, I recommend visiting the website www.livius.org. The articles on the sources will, I hope, go a long way to demonstrating how little we know about Alexander and his successors.
Of course, as I’m a novelist and not an historian, sometimes the loopholes in the evidence – or even the vast gaps – are the very space in which my characters operate. Sometimes, a lack of knowledge is what creates the appeal. Either way, I hope that I have created a believable version of the world after Alexander’s death. I hope that you enjoy this book, and the three – or four – to follow.
And as usual, I’m always happy to hear your comments – and even your criticisms – at the Online Agora on www.hippeis.com. See you there, I hope!
