Babylon, page 6
‘That he wouldn’t attack Crateuas as he withdrew.’
This was too much for Kassandros; he jumped from his horse and grabbed the man by the tunic, hauling him up. ‘Why was Crateuas withdrawing?’
‘Aristonous had made him swear an oath not to fight him any more in return for giving him his freedom and allowing him and his men to leave bearing their arms.’
Kassandros’ temper could take no more; he slit the man’s belly open and left him to drop screaming to the floor clutching at spilling viscera. His mate looked at him, terrified, and then up at Kassandros who, in his haste to get after Crateuas, contented himself with kicking him on the jaw, snapping his head back, rendering him unconscious.
Leaving the gutted man moaning behind him, Kassandros swung up into the saddle and kicked his mount west.
‘The column is camped three leagues away,’ Pleistarchos reported as he led his scouts back in the following morning.
Kassandros wiped his last hunk of bread around the bowl, soaking up the dregs of the olive oil, popped it in his mouth and chewed, looking deep into the fire. ‘Did you speak to Crateuas?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And he confirmed that he had indeed made an oath not to fight Aristonous any more.’
‘Did he care to explain why?’
‘He said he would be only too pleased to give you an explanation when you catch up with him.’
‘What! He’s not even going to sit there and wait?’
‘No; he says he’s heading for Pella to join Atarrhias and his men. Now that he has done everything that Antigonos wanted of him he thinks it’s time to take their men and ships back to Asia.’
‘Does he now?’
‘You now hold all of Macedon in Antigonos’ name,’ Crateuas said, looking sidelong at Kassandros as he rode beside him at the head of the column, ten thousand strong. ‘My work is done so I shall be taking my men back to join him, as he ordered and as you agreed.’
Kassandros had never been one to set too much store by agreements but for now it suited him to stick to the deal. ‘I did agree, yes, I did. I agreed to let you go once the whole of Macedon had been freed from the supporters of Olympias, which, clearly, it is not as you left Aristonous in possession of Amphipolis.’
Weather-beaten, roughened and old in the ways of war, the experienced general dismissed the detail as trivial with a wave of his hand. ‘There is nothing that I can do about that as I’ve given him my oath not to go against him.’
‘In return for him releasing you.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what sort of commander does that make you, managing to get yourself captured and your men routed to the safety of a town a league away?’
‘Aristonous surprised me with a pre-dawn attack; he’s a great general and I was fairly beaten just as we beat him fairly when we surprised him in his camp at Alorus with a pre-dawn attack.’
‘Fairly beaten! Can’t you hear what you’re saying? Fairly beaten! Is this some sort of a game to you?’
Crateuas turned on Kassandros in anger. ‘We are all Macedonians! There is no need for excessive loss of blood. For Aristonous and I, honours are equal; we can both walk away with heads held high.’
‘But I don’t want you to walk away. I want you to do what Antigonos promised you would do.’
‘What, win your war for you in a way such that you personally never have to strike a blow – unless the man is unarmed – and certainly never get yourself anywhere near the frontline? Is that what you want?’
‘How dare you talk to me like that?’
Crateuas shook his head. ‘Kassandros, Atarrhias and I have served with you now for almost two years; we are not stupid. We see you for what you are; we know you shied from the fight in Alorus and then blamed a brave officer and had him executed. I have done all that honour requires for a man who has shown very little honour himself. Now, I’m going back to Asia with my men. For me the war in Europe is over; if you want to carry on and remove Aristonous from Amphipolis then go ahead, but do it without me and my lads.’
Kassandros was not quick enough. Crateuas’ hand snapped around his wrist as he went for his knife.
Crateuas tutted, shaking his head. ‘That is nasty behaviour. Now go, before I decide that you’ve been too long on this earth without a meeting with the Ferryman. My son Peithon has told me all about you when you were pages together with Alexander; he was in no doubt what sort of a man you were and he is not the quickest, as I freely admit. So don’t tempt me, Kassandros. I look forward to sharing the tales I have of you with Peithon, next time I see him.’ He twisted the wrist, forcing Kassandros to drop the knife. ‘Now go!’
Kassandros felt some of Crateuas’ Companions begin to crowd in on him from behind, protecting their general. The more I order him and the more he refuses me, the more face I’ll lose. I’ll make him pay for this. He pulled his horse to the left, away from the column, to join his brothers and his escort. ‘Philip, ride on to Pella and make sure that Crateuas has no access to the shipping in the port. Pleistarchos, get to Pydna and do the same and then bring the army north; we may well need to fight Crateuas and Atarrhias.’
The twins looked concerned. ‘But they’ve got just shy of twenty thousand, between them, almost as many as we can field,’ Philip said.
‘And they are experienced generals,’ Pleistarchos added.
Kassandros’ eyes narrowed. ‘Just get on with it. I’ll see you back in Pella.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To make Aristonous an offer he’ll find hard to reject.’
*
‘We have let this go on too long,’ Kassandros said as he sat across the table from Aristonous, placed outside the gates of Amphipolis; six guards accompanied each of them. ‘Olympias is dead and before she died she wrote to you ordering you to surrender Amphipolis.’
‘I agree that it has gone on too long,’ Aristonous replied, leaning one arm on the table. ‘And perhaps I would have obeyed Olympias’ order had you not executed Monimus when he surrendered Pella, also on Olympias’ order.’
‘It was my younger brothers who did that without my knowledge; they thought it would please me.’
Aristonous’ smile was cold on his lined, strong-jawed face; now in his fifties with grey hair he was the oldest of Alexander’s former bodyguards; a man steeped in war and a respecter of tradition. ‘It comes so easy to you, the lie, does it not, Kassandros; and you feel no shame. I know it was you who ordered Monimus’ death. Don’t insult me.’
Kassandros shrugged. ‘Have it your own way.’ He’ll not get an admission of guilt out of me. ‘How many men do you have inside?’ He indicated with his head to the gates. ‘Six thousand? Seven thousand? Enough to beat the thousand in a pre-dawn attack, but not enough to fight your way back to your estates in the west.’
‘Your point is?’
‘My point is that you are stuck here.’
‘I could always go east to Lysimachus in Thrace.’
It was Kassandros’ turn for a cold smile. ‘You have nothing there; all your land is here and from what I know of Lysimachus he’s using all the money he gets to build his fortresses to keep out the northern tribes so I doubt you’ll get much charity from him. Face it, Aristonous, you either stay here until you starve because I’ll bring my army up to finish the siege—’
‘What’s left of your army now that Crateuas and Atarrhias are taking their men back to Asia.’
‘You let me worry about that. Whatever happens, there will be men here sealing off the town entirely. I’ve just done that at Pydna; I can do it again.’
‘Or?’
‘Or I guarantee you safe passage to your estates where you can live out the rest of your life in retirement, as you always wished to do after Alexander’s death, in return for handing your men over to me.’
‘Thus making you unassailable in Macedon.’
‘I think I already am; but either way I will get your men.’
‘It just depends what condition they’re in when you do.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And what about the king and his mother?’
‘I am the king’s regent; I will ensure his safety.’
‘Will you, though? It seems to me that if you’re marrying Thessalonike, the king becomes an inconvenience.’
As are your questions, old man. ‘I could not be seen to be responsible for the death of the son of Alexander.’
‘No, but somehow you could be seen to be not responsible for the child’s death, much like you distanced yourself from that of Olympias.’
‘Olympias had many enemies, Alexander doesn’t.’ Only me.
Aristonous studied Kassandros for a few moments, while Kassandros did his best not to flinch under such scrutiny.
‘Very well,’ Aristonous said eventually. ‘How can I trust you?’
‘I’ll swear an oath.’
Aristonous gave a grim chuckle. ‘You expect me to believe that you, a man of no honour, a man who is reputed to be a coward, would hold to an oath? No, Kassandros, take your oath by all means, but if my life and the life of the rightful heir to the throne are to hang on an oath, let it be that of someone I trust and who has a hold on you. Let it be your future wife Thessalonike’s oath.’
THESSALONIKE.
THE HALF-SISTER.
‘I SWEAR BY GAIA, the Earth Mother, that I will ensure the safety of Aristonous’ life during his journey from Amphipolis to his estates and thereafter; and I further swear to be the guardian of the life of Alexander, the fourth of that name to be king of Macedon. Whilst I live neither shall come to any harm.’ So did Thessalonike swear on the altar to Gaia in the goddess’s temple just within the walls of Amphipolis. She had not baulked at making the oath, for she had always liked Aristonous and would happily ensure his safety in return for his retirement and troops; as for Alexander, well, who would take the very life that gave her future husband his legitimate power as regent? It was, therefore, with a clear conscience that she dipped her fingers in the blood of a white goose and touched them to her forehead.
The priestesses began a chant whilst striking together small cymbals on their middle fingers and thumbs as the goose’s liver was examined by the leader of their order.
‘The goddess accepts the oath,’ the high priestess announced from behind her veil, ‘and will hold you to account should you break it.’
Thessalonike bowed her head in acknowledgement of the goddess’s power. I will not break it.
Aristonous, standing next to Kassandros behind Thessalonike, stepped forward. ‘I am satisfied with your oath, Thessalonike. I’m now prepared to hand my men over to Kassandros and retire to my estates, never again to involve myself in the politics of Macedon or her empire.’ He looked to Kassandros. ‘Leave me in peace, Kassandros; and let the boy grow to manhood. If you do that then perhaps the world will think better of you. I leave my men in your charge and will take only my kinsmen and the men from my estates home with me.’
‘You are free to go, Aristonous.’ Kassandros’ face betrayed no emotion.
Thessalonike studied her future husband. He’s hiding his thoughts; this might well prove to have been a farce.
Aristonous turned to Thessalonike, walked her away from Kassandros and lowered his voice. ‘I’ve always liked you, Thessalonike, and despite your betrayal of Olympias, I wish you no harm; but I promise you this: if you have children with this man and he breaks his oath, their lives will be cursed. The Earth Mother will see to that.’ With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and strode from the temple.
Thessalonike glanced at her husband-to-be. The question is, Kassandros, will you risk breaking your oath and, if you do, what will I think of you?
And that was the question which Thessalonike was always asking herself about the man she had consented, much to everyone’s shock and surprise, to marry: what did she actually think of him? She could come up with as many different answers as there were hours in a day. She knew his many weaknesses: his jealousy, probable cowardice – although she had not witnessed that at first hand – his cruelty, his maliciousness and vengefulness and his dishonesty, just to name a few. But she also knew that he was so deeply in love with her that she could bind him to her will with little effort. No, he was not a good-looking man, tall, lanky, thin and slightly stooping because of the limp that had afflicted him since his leg was gouged in a failed boar-hunt. And yes, he still had to sit upright at the table like a small child for he had not won the right to recline like other men who had speared a boar in the hunt without the use of a net; but the way he dealt with what must be a humiliation at each meal she had come to admire. And so, what did she think of the man whom she was very soon to marry?
The truth of the matter, she found herself admitting, was that she was ambivalent towards him. To her, Kassandros was but a route to power, and her personal feelings, one way or the other, did not signify so long as he treated her person with the appropriate respect. How considerate a lover he could be was something that she would only find out on her wedding night, having pushed away all pre-nuptial advances, uneager to welcome the spindly frame of her intended into her bed before she was obliged to. But aside from his unappealing physical aspects – which she would just have to ignore as he mounted her – there was very little that she either objected to or admired. He was just a tool with which she would gain the power that her late adoptive mother, Olympias, had craved and in doing so she would avenge herself upon the murderer of her birth mother. Thessalonike had accepted Olympias as her mother – even after she had guessed how that had come to pass – until Olympias had humiliated her by slapping her across the face in public. It had been an insult that Thessalonike had never been able to forget or forgive and had been the catalyst that led to her betrayal of Olympias and her decision to marry Kassandros. The knowledge that Olympias died – stoned to death by the families of her victims – knowing that she would be the most powerful woman in Macedon had given Thessalonike great pleasure, for that was the one thing that her adoptive mother had always craved and had so briefly tasted.
Thessalonike looked once more at her husband-to-be; he met her gaze with wide-eyed appreciation and what passed for a smile on his birdlike face. That he is completely and utterly in love with me is something I couldn’t have wished for in my most ambitious dreams. It makes handling him so much easier. She reached out her hand and he took it, a rare hint of colour without anger coming to his cheeks. ‘It’s time we returned to Pella, Kassandros. Now we have made peace with Aristonous and taken command of his men we should neutralise Crateuas and Atarrhias and then do the most important thing we have yet to do.’
‘Get married?’
Thessalonike smiled. ‘No, Kassandros, although that is important, I grant you; but what I have in mind for after the marriage is far more important: it is what kings of Macedon have traditionally done throughout our history.’
Kassandros looked at her with a quizzical frown. ‘You mean bury their predecessors?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘It’s too early to think about taking the crown.’
‘I agree; but it’s never too early to begin our preparations. You and I, the regent of Macedon and his Argead wife, burying Philip, my half-brother, in the royal burial ground at Aegae sends a strong message. However, to prevent the people thinking that we are overreaching ourselves, we shall also have the young Alexander present; that way we make the statement but are still able to cloak it with a veil of legitimacy.’
Kassandros’ leer was that of a man who sees his way to his dream of power become that much easier. He reached out and cupped Thessalonike’s chin with a gentle hand. ‘You and I make a formidable team.’
Thessalonike stroked the back of his hand. ‘We’ll be even more formidable once we’re married.’ She enjoyed the misty look of love that floated across his eyes. ‘Come, Kassandros; we go to Pella, defeat our enemies, marry and then bury the dead.’
‘But we don’t know where Philip is buried.’
‘You don’t know, but I do as I was there when Olympias had them secretly interred with no ceremony whatsoever. We shall change that and bring tears to the eyes of every Macedonian who witnesses it.’
‘There,’ Thessalonike said, pointing to the corner of a little-used courtyard in the heart of the palace at Pella. ‘Dig there.’
The four soldiers crunched their shovels into the gravelled ground, pressing down on the metal blades with their feet, and began the dig, overseen by their officer.
‘How deep are they?’ Kassandros asked.
‘Deep enough, but it won’t take long.’ Thessalonike settled down in a chair to wait; Kassandros hovered by the excavation, his impatience obvious to all. Indeed, on the three-day journey from Amphipolis to Pella he had urged haste and had talked of little else for he had realised the true value of what Thessalonike was presenting him with. She had concealed her delight in her future husband’s excitement as it put him deeply in her debt and she was certain that she would be calling in a favour very soon. For the present, she was happy for him to make plans which, other than burying her half-brother Philip, included the apprehension of Crateuas and his men before they joined with Atarrhias.
Having left Philip and Pleistarchos at the port of Therma to ferry Aristonous’ former men across to Pydna, where the rest of Kassandros’ army was still based after the siege, Kassandros and Thessalonike headed at speed to Pella. Here, Kassandros gave orders to ready the garrison to follow Crateuas south as he attempted to join with Atarrhias, planning to crush the two between himself and the twins as they brought their newly strengthened army up from Pydna. And now, as the Pella garrison prepared to march, they hunted for a dead king.
‘That looks to be a thumb,’ Kassandros said as the soldiers stood waist deep in the hole, scraping loose earth from the centre of it.
The officer jumped down, and began to worry at the earth around the digit with his fingers. ‘It’s an arm,’ he called, lifting the partly decomposed limb; leathery skin clung to the bone and the stench of putrefaction rose from the ground.
