Babylon, page 21
It was with relief that Artonis felt the ship surge forward as the stroke restarted; relief and surprise, for she suddenly realised that her sickness had gone, lost beneath the grief and fear of the past hour. She walked forward and knelt by her sister’s body as the Thracians put the maimed marines out of their misery and then cast the bodies overboard. She cupped Artakama’s face in her hands and kissed her lips; they were cold; salt water spilled from them. Ptolemy will pay for his treatment of you, Artakama; but not until he has served his purpose in avenging my husband. Again she kissed her and then folded the cold arms over her chest.
In silence she stayed, contemplating how she would make Ptolemy pay for her sister’s death until an arrow, juddering in the deck a couple of paces to her left, sent her scurrying, heart in mouth, to the rail for some degree of shelter. More of the iron hail thumped into the wood with staccato reports; she looked through a gap to see the dark shapes of the rearmost ships of Seleukos’ fleet picked out by the dawn, now glowing behind her, low in the eastern sky. Down the arrows came as the fleet tried to fend off what was assumed to be an enemy vessel. But little harm they did for the deck was mostly clear and the Thracians were using captured shields to protect Archias and the steersmen. There was nothing that she could do other than keep down and hope that Seleukos would soon realise his mistake and they would come safely back into his fleet.
SELEUKOS.
THE BULL-ELEPHANT.
SELEUKOS CURSED HIMSELF and his overconfidence for he knew only too well that the infiltration of the convoy and its protective fleet by fire-boats was down to him and his assumption that the passage so far to the south of Kition would be safe from the Rhodian squadron based there. But how had the fire-boat flotilla known where to be and when? It was the loss of Artonis’ ship that would hurt Ptolemy’s plans the most: armed with Eumenes’ message from beyond the grave, she would have been the difference between Kassandros definitely joining the alliance against Antigonos and him choosing what he would see as the stronger side without realising the personal danger in the choice. But it was not just Ptolemy’s plans that would suffer at Artonis’ death: it was Seleukos’ dream of returning to Babylon as well. Without Kassandros there was little hope of defeating the resinated cyclops and therefore little hope of his, Seleukos’, prize. But at least we didn’t lose too many of the convoy. There remain enough men to do what I need in Cyprus and then help Asander make enough of a nuisance to force Antigonos to spend men countering him. But to lose Artonis and Artakama; Apama and the children will be heartbroken.
Not wishing to think how he would break the news to his wife of her friends’ demise, he stood on the deck of his flagship and looked at the convoy of transport ships ahead in the pale dawn light, trying to count the sails but failing to get an accurate result in the gloom. There are seven missing; that’s seven hundred men plus the crews. Rhodos and King Pygmalion will pay dearly for this, one day. But it would not be this day, but one day soon, and so he breathed deep of the salt air and tried to focus his mind on the task of getting the rest of the convoy to Pathos.
He shook his head and cursed again, reflecting that it had been the first setback he had experienced since Ptolemy had sent him with a fleet into the Aegean; in truth, he had been almost totally unopposed at sea and had been able to establish bases throughout the Kyklades islands. From the Greek mainland to the coast of Anatolia his ships ruled the southern Aegean Sea; only Rhodos could oppose him but they had remained neutral – until recently. And it had been the speed with which they had turned into an aggressive force that had taken him by surprise, hence his failure to post sufficient lookouts as they hove-to for the night in the lee of Cape Gatos. That was a mistake he would never make again now that the war had begun in earnest.
Up until now it had been a question of Ptolemy and Antigonos manoeuvring politically to encourage allies to join either one of them; but now the first blow at sea had been struck and he had been on the wrong end of it. Again he cursed and shook his head; Babylon seemed to be as far away as ever; a vision of the city’s tall walls and towers, decorated with ceramic tiles of deep blue, interspersed with figures of men and beasts in yellows and reds, filled his mind and he hungered for the glories of the east.
A shout from the ship’ marines’ commander drew him back to the west. ‘A Rhodian ship is coming up on us from the rear, sir!’
Seleukos turned and followed the direction of the man’s pointing finger; through the gloom of dawn he could make out a trireme, its oars pulling at full stroke, chasing the last ship of the fleet as it strafed it with arrows. What is the triarchos trying to do? He frowned because it made no sense. There were no other Rhodian vessels in support; indeed, this was the first Rhodian ship of any size he had seen all night other than the small fire-boats, although he had assumed that there were some, escorting the fire-boats, out in the night, but not enough to threaten the fleet otherwise they surely would have done. And as he contemplated the puzzle a smile gradually spread across his face. ‘Slow the vessel,’ he called to the triarchos, ‘and try to get a message to that ship to cease shooting at the Rhodian! It’s no threat.’
A stream of nauticalese issued from within the depths of the naval officer’s full and bristling beard; the stroke-master’s flute slowed its rhythm in steady stages and the vessel slowed as the rest of the fleet pressed on at the pace of the transport convoy keeping it surrounded.
Hailing the rear vessel through a speaking horn, the triarchos convinced it that the Rhodian was no danger to it. The arrow storm ceased and the ship rowed by. Seleukos watched the Rhodian do exactly as he expected: it slowed and gently came to a halt alongside his flagship. Oars were drawn in and the two vessels settled side by side.
Seleukos recognised the round boyish face, surrounded by luxuriant curled locks, smiling at him as he approached the rail amidships. ‘I thought it must be you; only you and your Thracians could take an enemy ship without support, Archias. How many of your little friends did you lose? None, I suspect.’
Archias’ smile grew even wider. ‘Sitalces nearly drowned, but Poseidon refused to have him and rightly so.’
Seleukos hardly dared to ask the question. ‘And Artonis?’
Archias pointed to a figure kneeling, plucking arrows from a body laid out upon the deck. ‘She is well, but Artakama drowned. Poseidon was far keener on her – and again, rightly so.’
Seleukos nodded, relief flooding through him. ‘Bring them over.’ I can’t help but like the man even though his sense of humour is questionable. Apama will be devastated; but Artonis! Thank the gods. I’ll not let her leave my sight until I’ve got her to Kassandros. I didn’t fully understand it before but she is now crucial to my retaking Babylon.
And thus it was with two different sets of emotions that Seleukos took Artonis and her dead sister onto his ship and headed the last few leagues into Pathos.
‘You missed that Rhodian squadron, I hear; and it is now going to harry our supply line between here and Salamis.’ Menelaus’ voice had more than a hint of accusation in it. ‘My brother won’t be at all impressed when I tell him.’
‘Then perhaps you should refrain from doing so,’ Seleukos said, a smile fixed on his face, surprised by the greeting that awaited him as he came ashore in Pathos having supervised the disembarkation of the army on the beach just south of the city.
‘Just like I should refrain from telling him that you lost seven ships and almost a tenth of the army because you refrained from setting proper lookouts last night.’
Seleukos rounded on Ptolemy’s brother, using his height to look down at him. ‘Listen, Menelaus, if you feel it would be helpful to go sneaking to your brother at every opportunity then piss off and do it. Yes, I understand your jealousy that he should have given me overall command of both the fleet and the army but it’s you that he wants to rule Cyprus in his name once I have secured it. Once that’s done, I’m gone, but you’ll stay and be in complete control of the island.’
Menelaus’ dark eyes narrowed. ‘Jealousy? You think I’m jealous of you because you’ve got lots of boats to play with and hundreds of men to line up in ranks? No, Seleukos; don’t be so naive. I’m not jealous. I’m just worried that you are going to fuck the whole thing up; two mistakes in almost as many days and we haven’t even started the campaign yet? But the main thing I’m worried about is your loyalty: why did you take so long to respond to my summons to come and protect the convoy from the Rhodian fleet? It could have been here ten days ago had you come as soon as you were ordered. I sent five ships out looking for you. Were you holding back on purpose? How much has Antigonos paid you to delay and then let the Rhodians sail around the island and support Kition?’
‘Don’t make out that you’re more stupid than you are, Menelaus; I came as soon as I got your message and, no, Antigonos hasn’t paid me. My forces were spread out from here to the Greek mainland, securing the entrance to the Aegean with a series of bases; planning for the future, Menelaus. Once we’ve finished here in Cyprus I’ve got to get the army to Caria and that involves travelling past Rhodos.’
‘Why Ptolemy gave you, a man with no naval experience, the fleet as well as the army, I just cannot comprehend.’
‘Then that just goes to show how little you understand of politics. You are a younger brother who is nothing without his older brother’s support and has no experience of large commands. I, on the other hand, have been having independent commands since before Alexander died; I know how to think big. Also, and more to the point, I have lost everything to Antigonos and so need Ptolemy to win to have the smallest chance of getting back what is mine. So tell me, who is the most desperate to succeed out of the two of us? And who is the most likely to succeed? I’d say, objectively, that they are one and the same person: me. Now, let’s not waste our time squaring up to each other, comparing the size of our balls; instead, let’s get on and do what you brother has asked of us, otherwise you’ll find me just as capable of telling tales as you are. And, in passing, judging by our relative heights, my balls are far weightier than yours.’
‘We shall see. My brother wants King Stasoikos dead and the population taught what it means to betray him; let’s judge who has the weightier set by our actions when we take the city.’
The two men stood eye to eye for a few, quick heartbeats; with a slight nod of the head and a sneer, Menelaus turned on his heel and walked away.
‘What was that all about?’ Seleukos muttered to himself, surprised by the suddenness of the outburst. A younger brother and not a very tall one at that; not a great combination. I shall clearly have to watch my back with him around. It was with a puzzled frown that Seleukos went to address an assembly of his senior officers, readying them for the campaign ahead.
And it was with focus and motivation that Seleukos drilled the disembarked army for five days to shake off the fatigue of a long voyage and return them to the peak of fitness, for he had now not one but two targets to make examples of before he would release the army to Asander; Kition would pay for its support of Antigonos as soon as he had dealt with Marion.
‘Have the fleet ready to sail at dawn, Polycleitus,’ Seleukos ordered as he and his second-in-command watched Myrmidon put the army through the final manoeuvres of the fifth day’s training. ‘I want Marion sealed off by sea before I arrive with the army; I’ll be there in two days.’
Polycleitus rubbed the back of his leathern neck, contemplating the situation for a few moments. ‘If the Rhodian squadron remains to our east in Kition—’
‘And the main Rhodian fleet is still to our west in Rhodos,’ Seleukos interrupted, ‘then you are in danger of being surrounded as you blockade Marion, I know.’
Polycleitus looked at Seleukos, waiting for his thoughts upon the subject. ‘And?’
‘And I mean to take Marion before they can coordinate their attack. But in case there is a hitch, the King of Pathos has agreed to use his small navy to scout for the Rhodians coming west from Kition; we will know of their arrival before they get to Marion.’
‘And the main fleet coming from Rhodos?’
‘Is your concern. You will need to keep an eye out for that. Now, get going and have the fleet ready. I’ll see you in Marion.’
Polycleitus made to give an opinion but thought better of it; with a salute he headed back into the town in the direction of the harbour.
I can’t afford to let anything slip after the fiasco with the fire-boats. This had better be a success, otherwise Menelaus will have a lot to write to his brother about.
‘The lads look to be keen, Myrmidon,’ Seleukos observed as he and the mercenary general inspected the army at the end of the training.
‘They’ve been retreating ever since Antigonos swept down the Phoenician and Syrian coast; not of their own volition, I might add, but on Ptolemy’s orders. They’re anxious to prove to the rest of Ptolemy’s army that they can do more than just fall back in the face of the enemy.’
‘Well, that is something that I can help them with.’
‘I hope so, sir; in fact, you had better do so quickly as Ptolemy told me to stress to you that he expects swift results, and he did so in a tone that implied great disappointment if he was disappointed, if you see what I mean.’
‘I do.’ Pressure from all sides, it seems. I wouldn’t think that Myrmidon’s got any reason to want to undermine my confidence. Seleukos studied Myrmidon’s profile as he barked out a series of orders, bringing the parade to attention before dismissing it. He’s not the ambitious type either, so he has no incentive to want me to fail so they must be Ptolemy’s words; in which case Ptolemy is saying the longer I take in doing this the less inclined he’ll feel to help me regain Babylon. I had better get going. ‘We march north at dawn.’
‘The officers are waiting for your briefing,’ Myrmidon reported to Ptolemy as he appeared through the thick smoke emanating from the fires raging from several huge piles of driftwood – built during the night – set fifty paces out along the curved line of the tall and formidable landward wall of Marion. Semi-circular, the height of four men and made of stone carved with such skill that there was hardly a crack between each block, the half-a-leaguelong wall had resisted a heavy artillery bombardment over the first couple of days of the siege. It was now clear that it would have to succumb to an assault if the town was to be taken in good time. ‘And the wind is in our favour; the defenders won’t see us coming until the last moment.’
Seleukos nodded to the two central fires. ‘Are the hay bales ready?’
‘They are; each one with a rope through it and soaked in oil.’
‘Good. I’m right with you.’ Seleukos loosened his sword in its scabbard, feeling the familiar rush of excitement engendered by the imminent prospect of battle. All around groups of men talked in hushed voices as they checked their equipment and tested the strength of the assault ladders that would bear their weight to the top of the wall. Their pikes had been replaced by javelins so that they could fully control their shields rather than have them slung from their shoulder. Bets were being made and boasts bruited as to who would be the first of each unit to scale the wall and still be able to stand and fight.
Following Myrmidon to the command tent, Seleukos fought to contain his excitement; despite what he had claimed to Menelaus about having had independent commands, none had ever been this big. Previously his siege of Susa, which had been so deftly sabotaged by Antigonos, had been the largest command he had held on his own. That it had failed and he had been forced to end it by a diplomatic move, aimed against Antigonos, by coming to an agreement with the garrison commander, Xenophilus, had been not of his making; he would have much preferred to have taken the city and with it the treasury. Perhaps had he done so he would not now be in Cyprus fighting for Ptolemy. But that was all in the past now and here, before the gates of Marion, he intended to make a show of his first time commanding an assault and gain a reputation with the men as a fighting general who could win, with minimal loss of life and maximum booty. That would be a reputation that would help him to regain Babylon and then attract the men there to boost his army and secure his position.
And so it was with precise clarity that he spelled out his plan to his senior officers for the first time having not wished to do it earlier for fear of a whisper of it coming to the enemy’s ear. The look on Menelaus’ face when he had finished was enough to tell Seleukos that his plan had merit. ‘Let us get to it, gentlemen.’
And soon all was set and the volunteers and archers he needed for his plan had been briefed. Seleukos, standing at the centre of the central phalanx of the formation, opposite the city gates in the south-facing section of the wall, looked left and right along the curved ranks of assault troops staring towards the walls, hidden beyond the smoke. He signalled with a white flag to Menelaus, commanding the right flank phalanx opposite the eastern section of the wall, and then to Myrmidon, opposite the western section, before stepping forward. Without shouts or calls of the horn, the army followed him. On they marched, their footsteps crunching on the hard ground, nine thousand men determined to vanquish after months of retreat. Seleukos, at their head, felt proud that he should be leading them, for, standing a head taller than most men, he looked like a hero of old, and he knew it, and today he would act the part of one.
Closer they came to the line of fires, the smoke thickening with each forward step, catching in throats and causing many of the men to cough. Just before the line of fires, he signalled a halt; no missile had yet flicked through the curtain, indicating the defenders had yet to detect the beginnings of the attack.
Before him were four huge bales of hay, tightly packed and rounded with ropes coming out of either end. Seleukos took the end of one as seven of the volunteers each took those remaining, discarding their javelins but keeping their shields, transferring them to their right hands if necessary.
