‘Why do they wait for each other to form?’ Satyrus asked. ‘Surely the first to form has a clear advantage?’
‘Not a bad question, for a pup,’ a harsh voice barked. Just to their right, almost unnoticed in their excitement at the panorama of war, a cavalcade had mounted the bluff. A swarthy man in a silvered breastplate and a matching helmet rode over. ‘Neither commander will attack until he’s sure of his own dispositions, and the longer we keep our men in line, the more shit we’ll think of to fix. It can go on all day. War is nothing but a contest of mistakes, boy. The fewer you make, the more likely you are to win. I’ve failed to get my right wing in line, and I don’t have my peltastai where I wanted them. And my opponent has fucked up the disposition of his elephants – he committed them to the line. Now’s he’s seen the error of his ways – I suspect his son had something to do with it.’
‘Eumenes,’ Philokles said. He was on his feet. Philokles gave a salute in the Spartan fashion.
‘By all the gods, a Spartan. You have the better of me, sir.’ Eumenes extended an arm, leaning down from the saddle.
Philokles took his hand and clasped it. ‘Philokles – a friend of your strategos Diodorus, and of Kineas, whom you fought in Bactria. These are his children.’
Eumenes grimaced. ‘You could put them in with Herakles. We could start a nursery for orphans of great generals!’ He looked down at them, imperious in purple and silver. ‘What do you think, boy?’
‘I think that you’re hiding your elephants in that dust cloud,’ Melitta said. ‘And you’re going to break the enemy in the centre.’
‘I think Uncle Diodorus’s flank extends well beyond his opponent’s,’ Satyrus piped up. ‘And they’re already scared.’
‘Not bad,’ Eumenes said, looking like a man who had all day to discuss his tactics with children. ‘Not bad at all. But here’s the question, boys and girls. He has more cavalry than I do. Yet – his battle line is shorter. Where is the rest of the cavalry? That is what I rode up here to see.’
Satyrus and Melitta exchanged a glance.
Eumenes went on, speaking mostly to himself. ‘Battles happen because both generals think that they are in a superior position, and one of them is always wrong,’ he said. ‘Or because one of them is desperate. I’m not desperate. My phalanx is better and I have more elephants. One-Eye has more cavalry. It is his only advantage, beside the fact that he’s a Macedonian and I’m a Greek.’ He took a linen towel from his satchel and wiped his brow. ‘So where the fuck is it?’ he went on. ‘If he’s sent it out on the flanks – well, I may have crushed his centre before they arrive. No dust cloud. I guess they could be coming behind that range of hills to the west, but that’s twenty stades.’
He pushed his towel back in his satchel. ‘Well, Spartan, enjoy your view. Children, consider this a lesson.’ Without another word, he waved at his entourage and galloped down the face of the bluff, raising a cloud of dust that took ten minutes to dispel and obscured their view of the battlefield.
Theron opened a basket and served a late breakfast of figs and dates. All of them enjoyed the rich fruits, and they were quite sticky before the dust cleared.
‘So that was Eumenes the Cardian,’ Satyrus said.
‘In the life,’ Philokles answered.
‘What do you think he meant about this being a lesson?’ Satyrus asked.
Philokles got the look that both twins associated with lessons. ‘What did Eumenes say was the key to battle? Why do battles happen?’
Satyrus nodded seriously. ‘Battles happen because both generals believe they are superior, and one of them is wrong,’ he said.
Melitta jabbed him with an elbow.
‘In this case, I believe that Eumenes has decided that his opponent is staking his battle on a flank march. Eumenes is staking his on his elephants.’ Philokles pointed out at the field, where the curtain of dust was slowly subsiding. ‘One of them is wrong.’
‘Who?’ Melitta asked.
‘Ask Zeus,’ Theron said. ‘Look!’
Out on the plain, Eumenes’ whole line had started forward. The apparent confusion of his left was now revealed as a ruse, with the whole force of his elephants guarding the left of his phalanx and walking boldly forward a stade or so behind the main line. On the right, Diodorus’s cavalry was already well down the field and pressing on.
‘But-’ Satyrus was hopping up and down. ‘But – nothing was happening! ’
Philokles’ voice sounded strange, almost as if he were drunk. ‘Once a battle starts,’ he said, ‘it moves fairly fast.’
As they watched, both sides manoeuvred, pushing the last units into line or trying to straighten the more ragged divisions, but both sides had some forces in motion and any form of uniformity was shredded, except in the centres, where the phalanxes marched forward in order. They appeared about equal in size, and they were getting closer to each other – less than a stade apart now.
‘This is the worst part for the men in the ranks,’ Philokles said. ‘When you can see that wall of spear points coming at you, you feel naked. Nothing but honour – and fear of the contempt of the gods and your friends – can keep your feet moving forward. Your heart races as if you’re about to die. Perhaps you are.’ He looked away. ‘Poor bastards. May the gods stand with every one of them.’
‘Look! Our men are winning!’ Melitta cried. She was watching the cavalry on the right, where Diodorus was stationed.
‘Ares!’ Theron said. ‘That was fast.’
Philokles shook his head. ‘Either One-Eye has set a trap and Philip has fallen for it, or One-Eye has made an error.’
Satyrus caught the flash of sun on weapons to the far right. ‘It is a trap. Oh, Uncle Diodorus!’
Even as the whole line – the rather thin line – in front of Diodorus buckled and fled, his prodromoi were struck in the flank by lancers coming over the low ridge to the east. But the contest was by no means one-sided, and just before the battle haze hid the action on the right from them, they saw a whole regiment of Diodorus’s cavalry come out of the distant dust and fall on the ambushers, who were in turn the ambushed, while his main force continued straight on.
‘What happened?’ Satyrus asked.
Philokles stroked his beard for several minutes. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Cavalry fights are fast and confusing. It’s like watching a pair of dogs go for the throat – until one lies dead, it is hard to guess who will win. But Diodorus has been at this for longer than you’ve been alive. I’d guess he walked into that with his eyes open.’
As Philokles spoke, the phalanxes in the centre moved so close to each other as to look like a single mass. And then both seemed to stop moving forward, but they both kept moving from the back. As a child, Satyrus had once watched two caterpillars collide on a narrow branch, their heads locked together while their rear legs kept moving, and the phalanxes were much the same. And then the noise carried to them, a strain of a paean and the crash as the two great bodies met.
‘They both stood,’ Philokles said.
‘They were both moving,’ Theron countered.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ Philokles said testily. ‘What I should have said is that neither broke before contact. It often happens that way, although no one likes to speak of it later.’
‘Look!’ Melitta said, grabbing her brother’s shoulder and pulling at it.
Satyrus tore his eyes from the death struggle in the centre and the elephants marching stolidly up from the second line. Eumenes’ left, the part with his elite cavalry, closest to camp, was about to be struck in the flank by a tidal wave of cavalry. Satyrus had missed their appearance. ‘Where did they come from?’ he asked.
Melitta shook her head. She was chewing her lips. ‘They’re going to sweep right over our cavalry,’ she said.
‘Right into the flank of the phalanx,’ Theron said.
‘It’s not unlike watching the climax of a race,’ Philokles said. ‘Except that the contestants are dying.’
‘Diodorus needs to turn into the flank of the enemy phalanx,’ Satyrus added, after a tense silence.
Eumenes’ elite cavalry were outnumbered, and their dislike of their employer showed in the haste of their
