Christian Cameron - God of War - The Epic Story of Alexander the Great

Kineas was in the other faction, of course. And Diodorus had finally turned his back on the democrats.

‘If that fool has his way, we’ll fight you again,’ Diodorus said wearily. Then he brightened. ‘Say – you know that Thaïs speaks of you often?’

‘Does she?’ I asked. That gave me a little heart-burst of joy.

‘She gave me a party the night before I left – she prophesied that I would have days of dull company and would need to remember her wit.’ He smiled. ‘Some day, I long to afford a woman like her – to have her all to myself, every day. I’ll take her to dinner parties. Shock the matrons. Perhaps marry her!’

I laughed, although I was jealous.

He smiled at me as if reading my thoughts. ‘Thaïs said that she had been told by a seer she trusts that she is to leave Athens.’ He laughed. ‘Hardly news – the old men hate her so much they threaten to exile her constantly. Bad for public morals. Worse than old Socrates. Or so I hear.’ He laughed into his wine.

Marsyas leaned over. ‘Who is this paragon?’

‘Ah,’ I said, and took the opportunity every man loves, to discuss his paramour. Or perhaps she wasn’t my paramour. I won’t have you imagine that every time I lay with a slave girl or a willing free woman, I dreamed of Thaïs. That would have been, if nothing else, rude. The partner of the moment deserves your full attention. If you can’t remember the woman with whom you are lying – don’t bother!

But I thought of her often, more so as we came closer to Athens, and to discuss her openly with Diodorus was delightful.

At the same time, I sent Nearchus to Alexander when he went on duty with a note explaining the presence of the Athenian envoys and their mission.

Nearchus came back with two grooms and regretfully informed Diodorus that he and his fellow envoys would be guests of the temple for a few days. Diodorus accepted this with good grace. His fellows were obviously terrified.

We marched away in the dark.

We were at Lebedaea before noon, a hundred and ten stades of running and marching, with the Prodromoi just ahead of us and on either side, and the king with them, surrounded by his somatophylakes – the inner companions, the trusted bodyguards. I was one of them, in title.

I knew all morning we weren’t going to stop. Alexander was playing for the whole jar of oil, as the Athenians say, and we were going to make the dash. My men were in peak condition, and ready for anything. The Prodromoi changed horses at the meal break – and every one of them had at least two remounts.

The sun had scarcely begun to decline when we started for Thebes, another hundred and twenty stades across the plains of Boeotia, the dance floor of Ares. If the Thebans were going to fight, it was going to be today, tonight or tomorrow. My men had already come five parasanges on foot, in their armour, with their shields on their shoulders. Go and try it. Tell me how you do.

And we were off. The Prodromoi didn’t range far ahead. A thousand hypaspitoi, two hundred Prodromoi and twenty somatophylakes in full armour – the cream of the Macedonian army. And the king. Twelve hundred men against the might of Thebes and Athens – against a possible sixty thousand hoplites.

Farmers stood at their ploughs and watched us as if we were an army of ghosts.

Women stood at the edges of fields and watched us pass. Let me tell you what that means. Women are usually locked away when armies come. It’s a good idea. If country people get a rumour of an army, their grain is buried, their animals are driven up the hills and their women vanish.

We marched through a Boeotia full of late-summer grain, donkeys and beautiful women watching us march. They had no idea we were coming, and the Prodromoi moved so fast and so professionally that any man among them who thought to saddle his mare and ride for the city was quietly, ruthlessly removed and brought before the king. No one was killed, but by the time the sun was well down in the sky, we had thirty of these honest citizens trailing the king.

And we could see the Cadmea in the distance. Fabled Thebes.

Bastards. Really, an example of bad behaviour to ring through the ages. Only worthy thing Thebes ever did was to beat Sparta, and even there, really the Spartans beat themselves. Otherwise, Thebes was like a weathercock to tell worthy men what not to do, eh?

It is very fashionable these days in Greece to decry the fate of Thebes. Fuck them. They got what they deserved. How’s that for insensitive?

Anyway, we kept marching. We were on a superb road by then, rounded at the crest, paved with stones, and we sped up.

We marched right up to the gates. We posted a double line of sentries, paid the farmers of the near Cadmea to provide chicken, lamb and barley, and made a rich dinner. The hordes of Thebes didn’t frighten me any, and I slept well.

We were up in the dark, but however early the hypaspitoi rose that day, the men of Thebes were up earlier. By the time I found Alexander, Thebes had already surrendered and agreed to accept a new garrison, and accepted Alexander as the hegemon of the League.

I went back to bed.

I awoke late, to a new world. A world where Alexander, my boyhood friend, was actually going to be the hegemon of the League of Corinth – the master of the Amphictyonic League, the keeper of Delphi. The King of Macedon, Lord of Thessaly and undisputed master of his father’s empire.

It was thirty-nine days since we’d marched out of Pella, with Antipater claiming we should sit and negotiate and lay out some bribes.

The first sign of the new world was Amyntas son of Philotas, one of Parmenio’s household officers. I knew him well – he’d brought me my first toy sword.

He was waiting with Polystratus when I awoke. We embraced, and he shook his head.

‘When I was a young man, I never slept this late,’ he said with mock severity.

‘When you were a young man, Agamemnon was still king and the siege of Troy was in its second year,’ I said. ‘And I doubt you ever marched two hundred stades in a day.’

He grinned. ‘With Philip? I’ve made some marches, boy. Watch what you claim.’ Then he gave Polystratus a long look. ‘Can I trust your man?’

‘With anything,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Parmenio was always a good friend to your father,’ he said quietly.

‘Absolutely. Parmenio has my complete respect and admiration. Where’s this going?’ I asked.

Amyntas shrugged. ‘Alexander made my lord an offer.’ He looked around again.

I nodded. ‘I know all about it.’

He looked startled. ‘You do?’

‘Command in Asia, under the king. First satrapy, all the high offices for his sons and his favourites. Like you, Uncle Amyntas.’ I shrugged. ‘You should ask for the hypaspists. Best outfit in the army.’

He twirled his moustache. ‘So you know. So – is it genuine?’

‘Polystratus, get my Uncle Amyntas a cup of wine.’ I gestured, but Polystratus was already gone. A damned good man, Polystratus. Then I turned to Amyntas. He wasn’t actually an uncle at all – he was Parmenio’s political manager, and he’d been close to my pater.

‘You know, Uncle Amyntas – the truth is, it doesn’t matter whether the deal is genuine or not.’ I grinned. I liked him, but I needed, right then, for him to understand what we’d all just spent thirty-nine days learning. I went on, ‘I assume it is genuine – I’m one of the king’s friends, and he’s never spoken of Parmenio with anything but respect.’ I shrugged. ‘But truth to tell, Uncle, if Parmenio doesn’t ditch Attalus and switch sides, we’ll come to Asia and beat the shit out of him. The king is the king. And look around, Uncle. We hold Greece in the palms of our hands. Thebes fell today. This is Philip’s son, and the gods love him.’ I smiled. ‘Don’t be mad at me. Just take it on board. He’s the king. Parmenio needs to bend the knee. Or . . . else.’