The Alexander Inheritance Read online

  As he fell, he never saw that the arms holding the crossbow were the arms of a middle-aged woman.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  The first attack was pushed back with heavy losses, but there were enough men who had looked over the wall for Antigonus to realize that the town’s defenders were mostly women, old men, and boys, with only a few warriors.

  “We should attack again,” Peithon insisted. “They are women—”

  “There are a lot of them,” said Hypatos.

  “So—”

  “You don’t understand. It wasn’t that there were only a few warriors. There weren’t a lot, it’s true. But everyone in the town was put to work defending the walls. And even if they are women, they can still shoot a bow. Most of our losses were before we got to the walls. They were firing at an angle from behind the walls, and we couldn’t touch them. When we got to the walls, we were facing seasoned fighters supported by old men and boys, not just old men and boys.” Hypatos turned to Antigonus. “General, if we take that city, we’re going to end up putting everyone in it to the sword. After the losses we’ll take, there will be no holding the men. Where are your hostages then?”

  That stopped the conversation and Antigonus was glad of it. He needed time to think. Cleopatra—and he was sure it was Cleopatra—had done this. Eumenes wouldn’t have thought of it. Hades! Antigonus knew he wouldn’t have thought of it himself. A sacked and destroyed town would simply produce an enraged army. He had to find another way.

  Sardis

  December 30

  “Boil the bandages,” Cleopatra said to her clerk.

  There was a small section in the back of the butterfly book, called Germ Theory. It said that disease was caused by small organisms too tiny to see, and that they could be killed by boiling water. The whole section was less than a page long, but Cleopatra decided that it was probably accurate. It, after all, agreed with much of what the best physicians said. So the bandages would be boiled and the wounds would be cleaned with wine. She had found surprisingly little resistance among the wives of the Silver Shields. It fit with their own wisdom. Mostly, there had simply been concern over the cost of the wood to boil the water, which was what her clerk had been complaining about. There were a lot of wounded, and a lot of bandages needed. More than they had been prepared for.

  She looked at her town. There was a pall of smoke in the morning air. It covered the city like a cloud. The walls stood unbreached, but there was constant noise, people screaming in pain, too far away and too many to separate the individual cries.

  The clerk left while she was watching the city. Artonis came in. “It’s not bad.”

  “Not bad?”

  “Battles in the field are worse. Only tents and no fireplaces, save for rock rings. How are we set for food?”

  “A month, perhaps two, with all the local villagers who have crowded into town.”

  “That’s plenty, then.”

  The young Persian woman sounded so confident that she drew Cleopatra’s attention from the cries. “You’re so sure?” Cleopatra had managed a kingdom, but never ridden to war.

  “That’s cavalry out there. All cavalry. And if the reports are true, it has to be most of Antigonus’ cavalry.”

  “And that means?”

  “It means that Eumenes will face nothing but an infantry force. The phalanx are a powerful tool, but take away the cavalry that guards their flank and rear, and they are helpless. I don’t know what caused Antigonus to forget that, but I promise you, my husband has not.”

  “Desperation!” Cleopatra said, suddenly feeling a great deal more confident. She might not know war firsthand, but she knew politics and she understood the dispatches. Without official sanction—well, without uncoerced sanction—Antigonus might as well be a bandit. That was why she decided not to show anyone her mother’s letter.

  Olympias, in Macedonia, had a copy of Roxane’s proclamation and declared that since Roxane was not Macedonian, the regency of Alexander must go to her instead. Then she declared that Philip III was not heir to anything and opened up the bidding for the position of general to anyone who would bring her Eurydice’s head.

  There was no way of keeping it secret for long, but Cleopatra didn’t want to do anything to weaken that legitimacy of Roxane’s proclamation. Not now, not when it gave their side such an unexpected advantage.

  Sardis

  January 5, 320 BCE

  Eumenes looked out at the army of Antigonus One-eye and smiled. Antigonus hadn’t taken Sardis, and now he never would.

  The infantry was still a day behind and that limited Eumenes’ options. But just the presence of Eumenes and his cavalry meant that Antigonus couldn’t focus his entire force on taking the city.

  And Antigonus’ army wasn’t the army that had followed Alexander to India. They were holding together, more or less, but they were a rough and ragged group. Mostly cavalry and mostly Companions, but there was an air of desperation about their actions.

  Eumenes looked back at his own cavalry. They were calm.

  Attalus was smiling, almost grinning. “Can you see Antigonus?” he asked.

  Eumenes looked. Yes, there in the plumed helmet with the right eye covered. Eumenes nodded and pointed.

  “What about Seleucus?” There was an edge in Attalus’ voice now. This wasn’t all about Roxane’s proclamation. It was partly about the butterfly book and a lot of it was Attalus wanting the men who had caused the death of his wife. Roxane, and even the book, had simply convinced the stubborn Macedonian that Eumenes was his best chance of doing that.

  “I don’t see him, but I think that’s Peithon next to Antigonus.” He pointed. It was impossible to be sure at this distance, but it looked like Peithon’s clothing.

  “Let’s go get them, then.”

  “Not yet,” Eumenes said. “I’m not at all sure this is a battle we want. If they simply retreat, we might gain as much as if we beat them—”

  “Peithon is over there. And Seleucus.”

  Eumenes held up a hand. “Attalus, I know you’re angry and you have every right to be. But we have a war to fight and a dynasty to restore. We have obligations beyond our own needs. And it’s those obligations that keep this army from becoming nothing more than a crowd of bandits.”

  It was a hard thing to put into words. Philip II had done it, and Alexander even more. Taken hard men who were little more than hill bandits and turned them into an army and a nation. Almost a nation, anyway. It had all started to come apart as soon as Alexander died. That was why Eumenes had supported Perdiccas. Not out of love for the man, but to hold together the world Alexander was trying to make. Perdiccas had failed, and so would any of the generals. They didn’t understand, not really. They just saw it as taking what they wanted. Now there was Roxane and Eurydice, with an almost alliance. Perhaps the empire could form around them. But all Attalus cared about, for now at least, was revenge on the murderers of his wife.

  Eumenes sometimes wondered if anyone saw what he saw. It was a bitter thought, though not a new one.

  And it distracted him, so Eumenes failed to notice for a few minutes that Antigonus had come to the same conclusion he had. He gained little from battle here, but Antigonus lost a great deal by quitting the field before him. Antigonus had to do something that would at least let him claim victory. And so did his followers. They were forming for a charge. The pride of Macedonia’s cavalry against Eumenes’ mostly disciplined forces.

  Eumenes turned in his saddle and grabbed Attalus by the arm. “You keep your head, Attalus. If you go haring off after Peithon and leave Antigonus an opening to claim victory, I will kill you myself. Now, get to your command.”

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  A few minutes later, the armies clashed. It was a cavalry fight on both sides, a cavalry melee, with no infantry to act as a center. It was a cool day, as was normally the case in January this close to the Aegean Sea. But, unusually for this time of year, it hadn’t rained in weeks. The ground was very dry and it took o
nly minutes before the clashing cavalry forces turned the dust into a choking fog, with men and horses panting as they flailed around in confusion. Eumenes managed to keep his mercenaries together and in formation, but the Companions went off into a melee with the other Companions, and the rest of the cavalry on both sides lost cohesion.

  It was still possible most of the time to see Mount Tmolus rising above the dust clouds, so everyone knew more or less where Sardis lay. But everything else was uncertain. Even the location of Hermos River was uncertain except for the cavalrymen who stumbled onto its banks—some of whom immediately followed the discovery by spilling themselves and their mounts into the water.

  Eumenes rode through the dust with his mercenaries and came across clumps of horsemen fighting each other. It was hard to tell who was who. The cohesive, disciplined, and trained unit cut through anything in their path, but almost from the beginning Eumenes had to guess who was on his side and who was the enemy.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  Attalus led his part of the Companion’s Cavalry. Some of them, about a quarter of the force, had come over to their side after Roxane’s declaration. They fought well, even in this mad dust storm, because whatever else they were, the Companions were among the most ferocious fighters in the world.

  Then they ran into themselves. The Companions who had stayed with Antigonus and been given into Seleucus’ command by Eurydice, came out of the dust-filled air, and it was brother against brother, Macedonian noble against Macedonian noble.

  Attalus blocked a spear with his buckler, and another from the other side glanced off his armor. It was that sort of a fight. He jabbed his lance at someone—he thought it was Heron, but he wasn’t sure. It might have been Heron’s cousin. Whoever it was was screaming curses and bleeding from his left arm. The arm came up anyway, and blocked Attalus’ spearpoint, then the melee pushed them apart.

  Peithon was in front of him and Attalus forgot everything. He had held himself in check since his wife died, but now—already in battle—his bitter rage took him. He charged with no thought at all but to rip out Peithon’s throat. His spear went wide, but his horse ran right into Peithon’s and they both went down. They managed to get loose from the horses, and Attalus pulled his kopis and charged in. Peithon blocked with his left arm. It was cut deep, and blood gushed. Attalus smiled, then Peithon, using the back half of his broken spear, jabbed at Attalus’ gut. It burned and Attalus screamed. He let go of his sword and with both hands reached for Peithon’s throat. With fingers strengthened by years of wielding sword and spear, he grabbed and twisted. He felt cartilage breaking. He held on until the world went dark.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  Arrhidaeus, in command of a battalion of cavalry, realized that the battle was lost and decided that at the very least he wanted to show the Silver Shields the cost of following a wagoner’s son. He turned his battalion toward the walls of Sardis and charged.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  Artonis stood on the walls and saw her husband in the distance. She walked along the walls offering encouragement and support to the men and boys guarding them. Those men and boys kept demanding that she should get back to safety, but Artonis had read the butterfly book and she had drawn her own conclusions from it. If the sons and grandsons of Silver Shields must face the army of Antigonus, she must face that army with them.

  “There!” She pointed. “It’s starting.”

  Artonis watched the armies clash and saw when a battalion of cavalry turned to the walls of Sardis. She rushed to meet them, waddling to the section of the wall where they would arrive. And with her came the people of Sardis.

  There was a crowd on the wall where Arrhidaeus’ force arrived, and the attack was beaten off almost before it was well started. But as the cavalry turned away, they fired a volley of arrows at the defenders.

  One arrow, by mischance, struck Artonis in the side. It missed the baby but hit the uterus, and the water of the uterus spilled out into her.

  Quickly she was carried back to the palace, but she was bleeding internally. And along with the uterus, part of her intestine had been perforated.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  Antigonus pulled out and away. Not far. Just enough to get a feel for the battle. He was good at this. He had years of experience reading battles from subtle clues of sound and sight, even smell. He knew that this one was turning against him. It had started well, and if it weren’t for Eumenes’ mercenaries, he would be winning. But they were disciplined, and staying together in a solid formation. He got to a flautist and ordered a retreat.

  It was a slow disengagement, and he lost more men than Eumenes had, but he got them out.

  And Eumenes let them go.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  After the battle was over, the people of Sardis came outside the walls. They collected up the wounded. At Eumenes’ order, they collected up the enemy wounded as well as their own. They found Attalus, his hands still around Peithon’s neck. Peithon was dead. He had died within minutes of having his wind pipe crushed by Attalus.

  Attalus was still alive, but was unconscious. One of Cleopatra’s doctors thought he could save him with surgery, and Cleopatra agreed. It was worth a try, anyway. The Companion Cavalry was losing commanders at a phenomenal rate.

  Artonis’ situation was much worse. Her wounds were not as immediately life threatening, but the healers agreed that it was likely that her intestines had been punctured. They knew that her uterus had been cut and that the birth waters had been released into her body. Artonis was awake and insisted that they take the baby. “I’m dead anyway, but my child will live.”

  The operation was a success, but while they were in there they found a perforation in her intestine. The doctors knew what that meant. When the operation was done and she came to, they explained what they had found and what it meant.

  By that time the battle was over, and Eumenes was inside the walls of Sardis.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  “We have a son, my husband. You will need to find a wet nurse.”

  “What were you doing on the walls?” Eumenes asked furiously.

  Artonis quirked a smile at him and said, “Don’t be angry, my husband. Alexander wrought better than he knew in our marriage. We have made a fine, noble son, Persian and Greek. And we made a love too. A love to sing ballads about. Don’t let it end with angry words. It will end soon enough without them.”

  “Why?” Eumenes pleaded.

  “Because they had to see. They had to see that your wife, your child were at risk just as theirs were,” Artonis said with a cold pragmatism that surprised him.

  She died soon after. And the thing that Eumenes found hardest to accept was that she was right. Her death in this way had welded the Silver Shields and the whole army to him in a way that his calm deliberation could never have accomplished.

  CHAPTER 17

  Royal Compound, Alexandria

  January 20

  The news from Sardis was disheartening in a way, Ptolemy thought. Eumenes had held and now had Sardis. And with it, most of western Anatolia. Antigonus still had Eurydice and Philip, but he was losing troops and he would need to find new allies. Meanwhile, the butterfly book of the ship people had as much as proclaimed that Alexander’s empire was dead.

  “It could hold together,” Eudemus of Rhodes said. “It didn’t in that other history, but there were reasons. I have examined the book left by the Easley woman and I must admit it is well organized and clear. The empire was held together by Alexander. Without him at its center, there was continuing warfare till eventually it was split into separate nations. In that other history, it was Antigonus who acted first, some fourteen years from now. By the ship people’s measuring, in the three hundred and sixth year before their calendar starts. What they label 306 BCE. But all the other generals who survived quickly followed suit. The important point, though, is that by then both kings Philip III and Alexander IV were gone. And even—” He laughed. “—Alexander’s bastard, Heracles, was dead. With a live heir
to Alexander, it might well remain an empire.” There was a measuring pause. “But it can never be your empire.”

  Ptolemy looked at his old ally. Eudemus was fifty, three years older than Ptolemy, but he carried his age well. “So you think I should declare Egypt independent?” Eudemus was an excellent recorder and organizer, which was why Ptolemy had offered him the post of curator of the new library.

  “That is not for me to say. But if you are to be king, it is Egypt of which you must be king. And Egypt can be the key to it all.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Crates managed to get hold of a ship people map of the world.” Eudemus pulled the map from a tube and spread it on the table. “This is a tracing with the ship people’s political boundaries left out and our own added.”

  There were many fascinating aspects to that map, but the feature that Ptolemy found most striking was that Alexander’s empire, seen against the whole world, was so small. Not tiny, no. But…small. And they had thought at the time that they were conquering almost everything!

  Eudemus was still talking. “The world is larger, much larger, than anyone thought and mostly covered by water. However, see here—” He pointed. “This is what the ship people call the horn of Africa. To get around that would take months, perhaps a year or more. But the spice trade is vital and there are more goods to buy and sell in India.” He pointed again. “The shortest route from the Mediterranean Sea to the spices of India is by way of the Red Sea. And by compiling the reports of those who talked to the ship people, especially to a Greek sailor, Panos of Katsaros, we have learned that they had a way of setting their sails so they could sail almost directly into the wind. Also, they had steam engines that can move a ship with no wind at all. With those things, transport by sea becomes much more profitable. But there are choke points where the land blocks the best sea route. For Egypt, it all turns on this fulcrum.” He pointed to the land between the Gulf of Suez and the Mediterranean Sea. “There was, in the ship people’s world, a canal here.”