Alexander the Great Page 4

  The Greek phalanx was now pouring through the Persian centre and had begun to make short shrift of the infantry behind. The Persians abandoned their flanks for the centre, but were caving in all round and, as Parmenion demolished the left with his cavalry, Darius’ army broke up and fled.

  The Persians tried to reassemble on a high knoll. A herald was sent asking Alexander for a truce. But Alexander was in no mood to relax now. He was out to destroy them. His phalanx attacked the front. The deadly criss-cross of a thousand long sarissas caged and fenced them in, while the cavalry hemmed them in from the rear.

  Those who could, turned and fled, the others died or were captured.

  The night was filled with howling and wailing for the dead, as bodies were collected from the field of battle and the funeral pyres lit.

  To the 1,500 mercenary Greeks fighting with the Persians, Alexander’s men showed no mercy. All were put to death, but for 2,000 – the lowest ranked – who were bound in fetters and sent to Macedonia as slave labour. It was a lesson to all Greeks. You were either with Alexander or against him. This was the true nature of Alexander. He could not stand betrayal or treachery; he killed ruthlessly but not aimlessly. Like a true warrior, he upheld the code of conduct, and honoured his opponents. He allowed the Persians to gather up their dead so they could be given the proper rites, for Alexander was not just a military man but a king – of education and ideals. It was never enough for him to win battles; he wanted to rule, and to do this he had to build up loyalty, even among those he had captured.

  Alexander’s own men were given honourable funerals, especially his dead Companions, whose funerals were glorious, and whose families were generously compensated. Although the triumph of Granicus was his, he wanted to show the Greeks back home that, though he was a Macedonian, he considered the Macedonians and Greeks as one against the Persians. He ordered all the Persian treasures that he had captured at Granicus to be sent to Athens for dedication at the temple to the goddess Athena and, with a magnificent stroke of diplomacy, labelled them with these words: “Alexander, son of Philip and the Greeks (excepting the Spartans) on behalf of the barbarians who live in Asia Minor.”

  He wanted to emphasize that he claimed the spoils of the enemy on behalf of all Greece, and not for his own personal gain.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “LORD OF ALL ASIA”

  Throughout the summer of 334 BC, Alexander and his army continue along the coast of Asia Minor; freeing cities from Persian rule and setting up democracies in the Greek style. Some welcome him, some fight him. Hundreds of camp followers come in his wake.

  EPHESUS

  They captured the fine harbour town of Ephesus, famous for trade, fishing and the wild boar that roamed the wooded hills behind. It had once been Greek, then Persian, then Greek, and was now Persian again. It was in Ephesus that the great temple to the Greek goddess, Artemis, had burned to the ground the night Alexander was born. Everyone had said at the time that it was an omen, and that one day Asia too would burn, but the Persians had built their own temple on top of the temple to Artemis, dedicating it to their goddess, Anahita.

  Anahita was the High, the Powerful, the Immaculate; born of water; Anahita was the purifier, who gave life by creating lakes and rivers and milk; worshipped for her wisdom, she was like the Greek goddess, Aphrodite, also the goddess of love.

  Alexander saw a wonderful effigy of Anahita as Queen on Earth. She wore a crown of stars with flashing beams of light; she was clothed in a gold brocade coat, with otter furs; she was festooned with jewels, dangling earrings, necklaces and girdles. He was impressed, but now that Ephesus was Greek once more, he wanted the temple restored to Artemis, and he himself honoured as the new god-emperor, the new Zeus.

  To celebrate their victory, Alexander held games. There was feasting, with music and recitations. “A story, a story!” people begged the storytellers!

  Draw near, then. See how the sparks of night fires spiral up to the stars. Remember the story of Artemis, the Huntress and Queen of the Night, and how she loved Orion!

  ARTEMIS AND ORION

  Orion was a skilled hunter. All day long, he hunted in the woods and forests, accompanied by his beloved dog, Sirius. He was fleet-footed as a deer, and his aim was true.

  The goddess Artemis saw this marvellous hunter, who seemed almost as expert as she was. She fell in love with him. But her brother, Apollo, greatly disapproved of his sister loving a mortal. He tried everything he could to cure her of her infatuation, but to no avail.

  So one day, he cunningly tricked her into testing her skills as an archer by teasing and scorning her expertise as a markswoman. She protested and showed him over and over again how true her aim was. Then Apollo pointed far out to sea, where a distant speck rose and fell among the waves, and challenged his sister to strike it.

  Artemis seized her bow and feathered an arrow. She fitted it to the string, aimed, and with mighty force let fly. She hit her target. The speck disappeared beneath the surface of the waves and did not re-emerge.

  But Apollo had tricked her. She had killed her beloved Orion, who had been innocently swimming in the ocean. She wept bitter tears. And so that she would always be reminded of her beloved as she hunted through the night, Artemis turned Orion and his faithful dog Sirius into stars, and placed them as a glittering constellation in the sky.

  Word spread quickly about Alexander’s victory at Granicus, as his armies crossed the pine-terraced hills down to the coastal towns. Sardis, Ephesus and Priene had all fallen before his advance, some surrendering with barely a fight, preferring to return to life under the democracies of the Greeks, than continue beneath the repressive dictatorial regimes of the Persians.

  The Persians began to take Alexander more seriously. He had reached the coastal town of Miletus. Darius sent war ships, hoping to lure him into battle at sea with the vast Persian fleet.

  Although Alexander had mobilized his ships, and had won previous battles at sea, he knew he couldn’t match the superior numbers of the Persians, nor the supreme mastery of their Cypriot and Phoenician crews. However, when they were all gathered anxiously looking out to sea, his senior general, Parmenion, saw an eagle, the symbol of Zeus, sitting on the shore near one of Alexander’s ships, surely a sign, he urged, that Alexander should take to sea and fight Darius’ fleet. After all, the Greeks, too, were famed for their seamanship.

  But to everyone’s amazement, Alexander said he would disband his ships, pointing out that the eagle was sitting on land – “A sure sign that we can only win on dry land. We will beat the Persian fleet on land instead of at sea.” And it was at the ports that he aimed his might.

  It wasn’t easy. Darius’ ships harassed them in the harbour. Miletus was a heavily fortified stronghold with mighty walls and, during a fierce struggle, Alexander did indeed have to put his ships to sea, and, surprising the Persians with a sudden hostile attack, put their ships to flight.

  At last, with Miletus taken, he moved on to Halicarnassus, where stood one of the seven wonders of the ancient world – the great Mausoleum. This city was an even mightier port with great fortifications. This was the point he had wanted Parmenion to understand; by capturing all the ports along the coast, he would defeat the Persian fleet.

  THE SIEGE OF HALICARNASSUS

  But Halicarnassus was not going to give in easily. The fight was long, bitter and messy. There were months of siege and deprivation. The soldiers got restless and drunk.

  It nearly led to their downfall. But Alexander had patience, and though there were long periods of waiting and inaction, his brain was never still. He was always inventive, always thinking about what to do, how to do it, when to do it; consulting his engineers and employing the latest techniques. Not for him the old traditional weapons, nor trying to win through sheer force of numbers. He ordered the building of siege engines, huge battering rams, giant catapults which could hurl burning torches. Then began the final assault. After a bloody battle when he nearly lost his life, Alex
ander and his men breached the walls of the castle and forts. Finally, Alexander could claim victory and move on along the coast; there were more towns and ports to capture.

  Alexander headed along the Royal Road, the Achaemenid Highway, created by the earlier great Persian king, Darius I, urging his army onwards into the rugged highlands, winding up and down between rugged slopes and the coast, bringing town after town under his rule.

  By the winter of 334 BC the southern regions of Asia Minor were under his control. A shivering chill descended, so Alexander decided to move his exhausted troops inland, and rest in the town of Gordium.

  Gordium was the capital city of Phrygia, lying on the dusty ancient Royal Road which ran between Lydia and Assyria. It had seen better times when, several centuries earlier, Thracian tribes had settled there and created a large kingdom. Their kings had built over eighty great tombs with wooden chambers all covered over by artificial hills. Then one day, a tribe called the Cimmerians overran it and, after many fearsome battles, Gordium was laid waste.

  At first, Alexander found it an unexciting place, situated among low, drab, barren hills – with nothing much to amuse the troops, nor to stir his curiosity. Then he learned that the local Phrygians had once come from his own country of Macedonia, and he heard of a local legend which linked one of the largest hills in Gordium to the ancient Phrygian king, Gordius, and his son, Midas.

  THE LEGEND OF GORDIUS

  In ancient times lived a poor farmer called Gordius, who only had a small plot of land and two yokes of oxen to work it. One pair of oxen ploughed the land, while the other pulled his wagon.

  One day, a strange thing happened. An eagle flew down and perched on the yoke of his plough. It stayed there all day until he had finished work and released the oxen. Feeling very troubled, Gordius set off for home, thinking he must consult a seer about this event. On his way he passed a well where a young woman was drawing water. He stopped for a drink and couldn’t help telling the girl about the eagle. She said that as she came from a family of seers and soothsayers she was sure this was a miraculous sign, and that he should return immediately and make a sacrifice to the god, Zeus. The young woman went with him, and showed him how to perform the sacrifice. In due course Gordius married her, and they had a son called Midas – later of the Golden Touch.

  Midas grew up to be a fine young man and he worked the same two pairs of oxen, one pair to till the land, the other to drive the wagon. Unrest broke out in the area. The Phrygians were fighting and at odds with each other. Finally, they consulted the Oracle for help with their disputes. The Oracle told them that a wagon would come, bringing a king. At that moment, Midas drove up in the wagon bearing his ageing parents. The Phrygians were amazed. The Oracle had no sooner spoken, than the prophecy was fulfilled.

  They made Midas King, and put him on the throne. His father, Gordius, was sure that this was the ultimate meaning of the eagle which had landed on his plough all those years ago and, to give thanks to Zeus, he and Midas took the wagon to the top of the acropolis. There they set the wagon and bound the yoke with cord made from the bark of a very hard fruit tree called the cornel tree. They bound it tight, in such a convoluted knot that no one could see where one end began and the other ended, and no one knew how to untie it.

  For generations, this puzzle remained unsolved. Many people climbed the acropolis to marvel at the Gordian Knot. Some tried to undo it, for it was said, whoever loosed the knot would be the ruler of the Phrygians. But the knot remained tight and intractable as ever – and no one had managed to loosen it.

  THE GORDIAN KNOT

  Spring was in the air. Alexander’s reinforcement troops had arrived, and everyone prepared to leave Gordium.

  But Alexander felt that he must first visit this wagon up on the hill, and see the knot for himself.

  Unwilling to appear just another curious traveller, he pointed out that he was a Macedonian with a blood link to the Phrygians, and related to Zeus. He claimed to have an ancestral and mythical link to the chariot. What better way to give him extra appeal and authority with these recently conquered subjects – especially after he had left – than to undo the knot.

  So, with a band of men, Alexander climbed up to the acropolis where the chariot was kept. Everyone gathered round to watch. Alexander examined the knotted cord made of bark from the cornel tree, but couldn’t find an end. He attempted to loosen in the knot with his fingers, but it remained stubbornly tight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t undo the knot.

  At last, fearing that he would lose face, Alexander took his sword and sliced through it. “I have done it!” he cried.

  That night there was thunder and lightning which was joyfully interpreted as meaning that Zeus approved of the manner in which he had undone the Gordian knot. The natives accepted his action. It was admired as an example of his decisiveness, and from then on word spread far and wide, that Alexander had cut loose the Gordian Knot and that he was the rightful ruler of the Phrygians.

  People were calling him “Lord of all Asia”. But Alexander knew that, until he had defeated Darius, it was a false title.

  There were months on the road, skirmishing and fighting various warlike tribes who roamed the region. Spring gave way to the searing heat of summer. It was July, 333 BC and day by day the temperatures rose relentlessly till it was burning hot; not a good time to fight any important battles. But news came that Alexander’s old opponent, general Memnon, was dead and that, in Babylon, King Darius had amassed a huge army for the battle of all battles, determined finally to lay low this impudent young man.

  Alexander had no choice. He hurried south through the relentless heat from Ancyra into the arid, volcanic uplands of Cappadocia, desperately trying to reach the strategic coastal town of Tarsus on the other side before the Persians got to it.

  By August they had ascended the great range of the Taurus Mountains. Up there, at nearly 4,000 metres, Alexander’s men arrived at the pass known as the Cilician Gates, and were poised for a massive struggle with Darius’ forces. This was the only route down to the plains of Cilicia. It was a deep twisting canyon – ideal for ambush – and, had they failed to push through, Alexander would have had to retreat.

  However, Arsames, Persian governor of Cilicia, perhaps remembering Memnon’s disregarded advice at Granicus, instead of defending the pass, had stayed down on the Cilician plains, destroying all the crops to deprive Alexander of food.

  Alexander couldn’t believe his luck. The small force at the Cilician Gates was soon annihilated. His entire army descended triumphantly, four abreast, to the plain and onwards to the city of Tarsus, the capital of Cilicia.

  Alexander marched the army, driving it hard. News came that Arsames was attempting to sack the city and make off with its treasures. Parmenion rode on ahead with a contingent of men and put the citizens to flight, saving most of the wealth of the city, including its mint. Arsames, however, managed to escape and join Darius in Babylon.

  Having endured a march through the blazing heat of the summer, it was an utterly exhausted Alexander and his army who entered Tarsus on 3 September 333 BC.

  They were weary, covered in dust and sweat. Running through Tarsus was the River Cydnus – flowing clear blue and chilled by the mountain snows. How could Alexander resist? He stripped off and plunged into the freezing waters.

  It nearly killed him. The shock brought on cramps so severe that his men had to pull him out of the river, pale and half-drowned. He developed a raging fever and everyone was sure he would die.

  BEWARE THE PHYSICIAN

  Alexander’s own personal physician, Philip of Acarnania, said he had a remedy – a fast-acting drug, but one whose side-effects could be drastic, if not fatal. Other physicians would have been afraid to act, fearing that if Alexander died, they would be blamed. Alexander, delirious and barely conscious, agreed to take the drug. At that moment a note arrived from Alexander’s senior general, Parmenion. “Beware of the physician, Philip. I am informed that h
e has been bribed by Darius to kill you.”

  With the note still in his hand, Alexander took up the goblet containing the medicine and, looking him in the eye, handed the note to Philip. As the physician read the note, Alexander drank the medicine.

  Philip looked up in horror, but smilingly, Alexander handed back the empty goblet.

  The effect of the potion was violent. Alexander lost his voice and was barely able to breathe. For three days and nights, Philip never left his side, but massaged him constantly and applied hot fermentations. The medicine was not poison and, slowly, Alexander pulled through. Though weak and barely able to sit on his horse, he rode out to show himself to his troops as soon as he could, to prove that he was still alive. A great cheer resounded through the camp. Alexander prayed and made sacrifices to the gods, thanking them for his recovery.

  But there was no time to slacken. A messenger brought disturbing news. Darius was on his way to Cilicia with a huge army, gathered together from all over his empire. Alexander calculated that Darius would command the pass at the Pillar of Jonah on the borders of Syria, and as he was still not fit enough for battle, he split his forces. He sent Parmenion with the cavalry eastwards along the coast to take the pass and report on the movements of the Persian king, while he rode westwards with the rest of the troops.

  Alexander took his time, partly to allow himself to recuperate, but also because he never permitted himself to be rushed. He liked to bewilder the enemy – a tactic he was to use over and over again, going at his own pace rather than being forced by his enemy. It was September before he set off, meandering around here and there, fighting wild tribesmen, unsure of what was happening behind him, and where Darius was.