In the Shadow of Alexander

By Makis Aperghis

It is 334 BC and ALEXANDER THE GREAT has just crossed into Asia to conquer the Persian Empire.

Serving in his elite cavalry is a young Macedonian, SELEUKOS. For eleven adventurous years, Seleukos follows Alexander

to Central Asia, India and back. He experiences many forms of warfare and much more. Seleukos' life becomes entwined with

• Language: English
• Publisher: Makis Aperghis
• Release date: Nov 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802277548

Makis Aperghis

Makis Aperghis obtained a Doctorate in Ancient History from University College London. He is the author of a textbook on the Seleukid Empire published by Cambridge University Press. He has also authored numerous scholarly papers on political, military, economic, social, and cultural aspects of the ancient worlds of Greece and the Middle East.After Alexander the Great's death, Seleukos, one of his generals, was the most successful in the bitter struggle for the succession. This is the first novel of a trilogy about Seleukos.

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Makis Aperghis obtained a Doctorate in Ancient History from University College London. He is the author of a textbook on the Seleukid Empire published by Cambridge University Press. He has also written numerous scholarly papers on political, military, economic, social, and cultural aspects of the ancient worlds of Greece and the Middle East.

After Alexander the Great’s death, Seleukos, one of his generals, was the most successful in the bitter struggle for the succession. This is the first novel of a trilogy about Seleukos. In it he follows Alexander on his campaign of conquest to India and back, and learns from his Master …

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ONE

Granikos, 334 BC

It was late afternoon. Across the river, the Persian cavalry waited, massed on the high ground above the far bank. To the right and left, as far as I could see, their line was unbroken. Where did they get so many horsemen? Far more than ours. Alexander did not seem to fear them, or at least acted that way. From what we had heard, he had been advised to go for a surprise dawn attack. But he had scoffed at the suggestion and said he would not let a little stream like the Granikos stop him when he had just managed to cross the sea into Asia. I was worried. Our squadron, the Apollonians, led by Socrates, was to launch the attack. It was being offered as bait, and I with it.

The Granikos looked difficult. This was May and the snows of Mount Ida to our right were melting and a lot of water was coming churning down. But luckily the river was quite wide here, easily a hundred and fifty paces across, and had formed several channels, none of which looked particularly deep. I guessed the water level would not touch my horse’s belly in the worst places, or at least I hoped so. Socrates had reassured us about this. ‘Local intelligence,’ he had said, and I suppose Alexander would have obtained this somehow. In fact, I had seen the lancers riding out earlier to scout before the army. Perhaps the water would not be too deep, but what about the far bank of the river, which looked quite steep in places? It would not be so easy to climb, especially with the Persians trying to stop me.

Aretas, my troop leader, had tried to calm me earlier. ‘Seleukos, this is your first battle. Just keep close to Polemon and Dokimos and you’ll be fine.’ These two were my mentors, experienced cavalrymen to guide and protect me. Hopefully…

I leant down and stroked my horse’s neck. Polios seemed calm, but who could tell what he was feeling? I whispered into his ear, ‘And this is your first battle too.’ We had practiced many mock engagements together, but how would he react to the real thing? I was as much concerned for him as for myself.

Our squadron was part of the Companion cavalry on the right wing of our battle line. To my right, I could see the royal squadron, with Alexander himself, and beyond, the other six. To my left were the four squadrons of lancers, armed with their long spears, more than twice the height of a man. I could not see the infantry from where I waited in the front line but knew it would be covering the centre, with the remaining cavalry: allied Greeks, Thracians and Thessalians, out on the left wing. The Companions had a running argument with the Thessalians as to who were the better horsemen. We might soon find out.

Our battle line was what one would have expected and probably no surprise to the Persians. And they could certainly see Alexander riding along the Companion’s front with those two white feathers sticking up from his helmet. And if they could not see, they could certainly hear the din across the river as we cheered him.

I joined in heartily, just as Polemon and Dokimos on either side of me were doing. Polemon was always eager to go but did not have enough sense to appreciate danger. Dokimos was much more cautious, and I suspect he was trying to drown out his fears in his cries, as probably most of my comrades were doing. I confess I too was afraid – I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead, and my heart was beating faster – but this did not prevent me from considering the situation objectively. This was going to be extremely risky and there was a good chance I might not come through. What Alexander had commanded our squadron to do was to lead the attack on the Persians. I knew some of my comrades thirsted for glory, but my own desires were humbler: to do my job well and stay alive. And our task was quite simple, but extremely dangerous. We had been ordered to charge across the river, along with the lancers, defending ourselves with shields against the enemy arrows and javelins. Metal helmets would give us some protection, but boiled leather armour would not be much use at close range. Then we had to try to climb the riverbank to come to grips with the Persian horsemen. If, as expected, they charged us, we had to give ground slowly and draw them into the river. When we heard the trumpets sounding, we had to disengage, turn, and flee to mid-river drawing the Persians after us.

Socrates had told us what was supposed to happen next. ‘While we’re fighting the Persians facing us, the other squadrons of the Companions will be angling to their left across the river, with the current helping them along. When we look as if we’re fleeing, Alexander himself will charge in from the side with the royal squadron and hit the Persians chasing us. They will be disorganised and won’t see what’s coming. They’ll also be tired, and few will be left up on the riverbank. Alexander will go through them like butter and get up there before they know what’s what. We’ll have the lancers with their long spears to keep the Persians on our left occupied and the other Companion squadrons will be doing the same on the other side of Alexander. We’ve got to give him the chance to get up on the riverbank and form a bridgehead. Once he’s there, he can break through their line. And we’re going to follow him.’

I could appreciate Alexander’s tactics, but that made our squadron the bait. The Persians would take it. They would see us as the spearhead of the Companions’ attack and throw everything at us, and me. Not something to look forward to.

Socrates had tried to end his briefing on a high note. ‘Ours is the most important task in the battle: to give Alexander a chance to break through the Persian line and achieve victory. We should be proud we’ve been given the opportunity to show our valour.’

Valour was fine, but what he had not added was that we could expect to take serious losses, especially amongst those, such as I, in the front line. Well, I would just have to keep my wits about me, my spear and shield handy and do my job. Instinctively my hand went to the pocket of my tunic and touched the lucky charm my little sister had given me. I did not believe in such things, so why had I done that? But any help now was welcome.

I glanced across to the right. Alexander had stopped in front of the royal squadron and was looking across at us. He raised his right arm, held it up for a moment and brought it down sharply. ‘Alalai’, we raised the battle cry, and it was echoed by the Companions and lancers and down the line. The die was cast, and we were off, and I sent a silent prayer to Zeus that Polios and I might survive the day.

We quickstepped our horses into the river, forty-eight in line and three lines behind us in loose attack formation. Now we were all silent and our pace quickened, as much as the river, which was still quite shallow, allowed. I kept one eye on Aretas in the end position to my left. He and Socrates in the middle and Archon on the right were there to keep us in line abreast. Nearly halfway across and the Granikos was becoming more difficult. Just after a dry stretch, the river deepened quickly, and the current grew stronger. Polios felt the effect and I pulled on the reins more to help him keep his balance. But Polemon on my left was getting too far ahead in his eagerness and I called to him to hold the line. No Persian arrows yet and we would soon be out of the danger zone when we got nearer the far bank. Well, no, because then we would be facing the javelins. But still no arrows. What had become of their archers? A fleeting thought that they might not have any, but too good to be true. And here was an arrow whistling in, and another and a whole bristling wave, and up went my shield to try and deflect them.

Now there were only fifty paces to go, forty, thirty, time to concentrate on the javelins. The Persian horsemen had two, we had been told, and they would throw the one when we approached and keep the other for close quarters. The river was easier now and I kept my eye on the bank to spot the javelins coming. And here they came. I ducked, took one on the shield, heard the whoosh as another went by. And then our battle cry was rising again, and I was shouting at the top of my voice, as Polios and I climbed up the riverbank.

‘Aim at their horses’ heads.’ Socrates had instructed us. ‘Those you’ll be able to reach first. Get their horses to shy, unbalance them, bring them down if you can. You’ll have a longer reach with your thrusting spears. Their riders will have difficulty aiming properly. But keep your eye on them too and use your shield against javelins. If they get close enough, aim at their faces. They’ll not like that. Use your swords only if your spears break or get stuck. Remember, you’re not expected to go all out to try to drive them from the river. Keep them coming at you and stay alive. And support your comrades. You don’t want to be caught alone between two Persians. That is why you have space for the second rank to come alongside. And listen for the trumpets.’

I leaned forward, thrust the spear underarm, brought it back, thrust again. A horse screamed in pain as the spear connected. Polios slipped back in the mud but recovered. My eyes scanned ahead. A javelin coming, and my shield moved to deflect it. Another came and missed. A cry behind. Relief it was not mine. Ariston of the second line on my left. Where was Polemon? Dokimos falling behind, and I open on my right. A pang of fear. Where was my support? Danger, as an enemy rider came at me. Too close, I could not hit the horse, I aimed for the man, for the face. He was not expecting this. My arm jarred as the spear struck home and he fell in slow motion. But his horse shouldered Polios, who stumbled. A rush of air as a sword flashed by. Lucky. A chance for me. The enemy’s side open, and a spear thrust to his armpit. Out pumped a speckled cloud of blood. The Persian hit in the face on the ground crying, hidden by the sweat dripping from my forehead. Danger ahead, and riderless horses keeping it at bay – my thanks to them – but two Persians almost through. Time to back up and get support. I rode over the wounded one and he cried out louder. Dokimos now on my right, so two against two. The Persians checked, pulled back their right arms and launched their javelins together aimed at him. I turned to see one sticking in his throat, blood spurting out. An instant of horror, but no time to think, only to instinctively knee Polios forward. He closed the distance in a flash, I struck fast, and my spear went through a Persian’s mouth. No breath for words, no room for thoughts, no time for fear. Simias from the second line on my right, Polemon close by on my left, grinning – the bastard was enjoying this. I controlled Polios with my knees, kept my shield moving, and thrust at faces and under shields. And Polios lashed out with his hooves. We stayed alive in a cloud of dust, assailed by the smells of flesh, sweat and blood and the sounds of men, horses, and weapons clashing. No sense of time.

A different sound penetrated, the sound of trumpets, but I was too tired to make the connection. Then I understood that Alexander was coming and there was a huge sense of relief. Not long now and he would be here. But first, I had to fall back and draw the enemy after me.

I seized the opportunity when I was not being engaged, turned Polios around quickly and gave him his head. Persians followed hard on my heels. It was their battle cry I heard now, not ours. Many of my comrades were already in the river backing away fighting or in mock flight, while I could sense others slithering down the bank with me. But I could not distinguish who was who right now. There were losses too, many dead and wounded riders and horses in the water. And I had a peculiar tingling in my back, as if a javelin were about to penetrate.

Nearly halfway across the river and there was an abrupt sense of change, as if a strong wind had come up or was blowing from a different direction. It took a moment to enter my consciousness, but there it was, clearer now, our own battle cry. I wheeled Polios around sharply and saw a most welcome sight. The royal squadron streamed in from the side, speared its way through the Persians in the river and climbed up the far bank with ease. Somewhere leading the attack would be Alexander, and, yes, I could see the two white feathers in the centre of the line. The scattered horsemen facing him on the bank were being pressed from behind by those coming to their aid, but like the ripples from a stone thrown in water, the impact of the royal squadron’s charge was loosening this mass and soon I could see the backs of men and horses in flight. I followed wearily across the river, half-heartedly running through unlucky enemy stragglers. I had wits enough to realise Alexander must have broken through and was attacking the Persians in flank and rear and there was a general sense of forward movement on our side, but my body could take no more.

When I had laboured up the riverbank for the second time that day, I dismounted and dropped to the ground, sweat running to mix with the blood there. My heartbeat was thundering in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. I sensed the presence of Polemon and Simias on either side. Polios looked down on me, his head surrounded by a halo of steam. Had I fought in a battle? Had I killed men? The image of my spear penetrating a Persian’s mouth came to me and I felt sickened.

TWO

Before Granikos, 334 BC

Four months earlier I had presented myself at the barracks of the Apollonians. It was almost dusk, and I felt a combination of weariness, excitement, and trepidation. The sentry at the gates told me where to find the stables to leave Polios and where to report to Socrates. There was a huge parade ground, and a few people were watching a group of horsemen manoeuvre. Socrates must have been one of them, but which one? There were no distinguishing signs of rank. While I waited for the squadron commander to acknowledge my presence, I tried to make sense of what was going on. The group had a triangular formation. It first charged in one direction led by a rider at one tip of the triangle and stopped abruptly. Each horseman turned quickly where he stood, and the group charged off again following someone at another tip. And this went on. I could not understand the purpose of the exercise but had to admire the way the riders kept their cohesion despite the rapid changes of direction.

‘And you are?’ said a tall, lean figure. This must be Socrates. I made him about thirty years old, with some white already showing in his hair and a slightly amused expression. He was possibly wondering what he was supposed to do with me.

‘Seleukos, son of Antiochos, from Euromos. I’m joining your squadron,’ I blurted out.

‘Oh, you are, are you? Take a look at this lad, Aretas.’ Socrates turned to one of his comrades, an officer, I presumed. ‘He’s big and isn’t too bad looking. I’ll assign him to your troop. We need to improve its general appearance.’

The short, squat man he had addressed, with the decidedly ugly features, chuckled at this and retorted, ‘Socrates, I don’t give a damn about appearance. Let’s hope he has more brains between his ears than a horse and can fight. Looks are no use on the battlefield. The enemy doesn’t stop to admire them.’ And turning to me, Aretas said, ‘Never mind Socrates, lad, come with me.’

I followed Aretas to the quarters of his troop, a long, low building just off the parade ground, and he assigned me a bunk. There were a dozen men about and Aretas called two of them over. He introduced the taller, fairer, and more solidly built one, who was about my age, as Polemon. Polemon greeted me with a firm handshake and a welcoming smile. The other, Dokimos, appeared to be slightly older. His greeting was more restrained and calculating.

‘You’re to take Seleukos here under your wing. He’ll ride between the two of you,’ Aretas ordered. And with that, he left. My induction in the Companion cavalry had been speedily taken care of.

*

Early the next morning, I wandered round the barracks to get my bearings. The sleeping huts were arrayed on the east side of the parade ground. On the north side were what must be the quarters of the officers and a large mess hall, where people were heading for the morning meal. The west and south sides was taken up by the stables and the accommodation of grooms and slaves. The entrance to the barracks was just past the stables on the south side. This would be my home for the next few months, as the expedition to Asia could not set out before the spring.

Dokimos spotted me as I made for the mess hall and led me to a long wooden table and benches, which was where our troop took its meals. Most seats were already occupied, and I noted the interested looks as Dokimos introduced me. Some men nodded their greetings before resuming the conversation they had been having. I could not put names to speakers, naturally, and listened, while the slaves brought me food and drink.

A slim, fair-haired man said, ‘You know Alexander has already sent an advance force across the Hellespont into Asia?’

‘Yeah, under Parmenion and Attalos. It’s a big one, ten thousand, I heard,’ a powerfully built man with a large, square jaw replied.

‘How many more do we have?’ This was Fair hair again.

‘Twenty thousand or so, if Alexander can bring in the Thracians and some Greeks.’ Square Jaw seemed to know his numbers.

‘I don’t think we should rely on the bloody Greeks. They ‘ate us,’ from a thin, narrow-eyed man. He seemed to me to be the one doing the hating.

‘Come on! You forget we’re Greeks too. We speak the same language, worship the same gods, and compete in the Olympic Games,’ from Fair Hair again. I agreed with him. Some Macedonians liked to think we were a race apart. Perhaps because we did not wish to be compared to the other Greeks, having not achieved much in our history.

‘I know, but I don’t trust ‘em.’ Narrow Eyes was not going to concede the point easily.

‘All right, Athens, Sparta, and Thebes might be a problem, but what about the others? The Thessalians? They’ve always been with us and are damned good horsemen.’ Fair-hair was making good sense.

‘Is Alexander serious about taking on the Persians? Why don’t he just go in, grab what booty he can and come back before they bring in their army. You know, they’ve a million men, chariots, elephants, you name it.’ I turned to look at the new contributor to the discussion and immediately thought of him as Round Ears.

‘Rubbish! Where can they get a million soldiers?’ Fair Hair slammed his hand hard on the table.

‘I heard that’s what Xerxes brought against Greece a hundred years ago, … or maybe two hundred.’ Round Ears did not seem to be too clear on the chronology.

‘Yes. But look at what the Greeks did to him. He left like a dog with his tail between his legs.’ Fair-hair obviously had some education.

‘It don’t matter how many soldiers the Persians have. We’re better, we’re tougher. They’re feeble. It’ll be a stroll to take their palaces and cities. And we’ll be rich from all the treasure there.’ This was a complete change of tack from Round Ears.

I felt I had to intervene. But I needed to be careful with my words so as not to appear too knowledgeable. I did have the advantage of a private education and my tutor, Kimon, had been particularly keen on history.

‘May I have a word? I don’t know what Alexander’s intentions are. He may be thinking of raiding this part of Asia and then returning to Macedonia, or he may wish to attack the Persians in their homeland and conquer it. His father, Philip, who planned this expedition, presented it to the Greeks as an act of revenge for what Xerxes had done to us and got their agreement. Don’t forget Xerxes had subjugated our own homeland, Macedonia, and burnt Athens and its temples. That was a crime against the gods. But if Alexander is heading for Persia, it’s very far away, more than four months’ march.’

‘Come on! Four months! Where’d you get that?’ Round Ears jumped up. His hopes of a quick victory and lots of booty had just been dashed.

I had trapped myself. Either I had to display my education, or my comrades would take me for someone who did not know what he was talking about. I took the plunge. ‘Herodotos says so in his Histories, and that’s just to Susa, which is one of their capitals and not even in Persia. You would probably need another month to get to Persepolis.’

There was silence while my fellow-troopers digested this information. No one had any conception of the size of the Persian empire. It took you about five days on foot to get from Amphipolis to Pella, our own capital, and that was about as far as you could go in Macedonia. The million soldiers were certainly an exaggeration, but even so …

Dokimos broke the silence. ‘Well, we have a scholar in our midst.’

No one wanted to continue with the subject of the expedition, and I suspected many were having the same thought as me, that Alexander might be considering something foolhardy. So, conversation shifted to other, more mundane matters, and I just sat and listened. Perhaps I should not have butted in. Being called a scholar set me apart and that I did not like.

When the meal was over, as we made our way to the stables to pick up our horses, Dokimos chuckled, ‘You really let the air out of some of those windbags.’ I was relieved to hear that he at least had not disapproved of my intervention.

*

My horse, Polios, was a big, five-year old grey whom I had been riding for the past year. We were used to one another, and he responded well to the commands I gave him mainly with my knees. But he had never been exposed to battle and I had no idea how he would behave. The training over the next few months would be just as much for him as for me. I loved Polios. But if he could not make it as a warhorse, he would have to go back to my parents’ estate, and I would be issued one of the squadron’s spare mounts. That I did not wish to even think about.

When we reached the parade ground, Dokimos led me to my position between Polemon to my left and himself. ‘Just follow our lead, Seleukos,’ he said.

We set off at a walking pace in ‘column’ formation, four riders abreast and eight files deep. I knew this was normal marching order for a troop of thirty-two. There were six troops in a squadron. Aretas was in the first rank and I in the second. ‘Double up,’ he gave the command, raising his arm.

Polemon hissed, ‘To the right,’ and I followed Dokimos on the other side of me and the fourth rider in our rank out and forward, so our rank became an extension of the first. We were now eight abreast.

Aretas raised his arm again and called, ‘Single down,’ and I watched as Polemon slowed and waited for a gap to open up behind Aretas’ rank, into which he led the way.

This was repeated several times at a walking pace, a trot, a canter and, finally, a gallop. ‘Keep formation,’ my two mentors repeated constantly. When I was too slow, one or both would urge me along. My concentration was intense, and I worried I would mistime a movement. When it came to the gallop, I was afraid I would trip up the entire troop, but somehow that did not happen, and I was certain it was Polios’ doing. When we had finished for the day, Dokimos’ ‘Well done’ was a fine reward and Polemon added a broad grin. I was their protégé, after all. Anything stupid I did would reflect on them too. Polios got a pat on the neck and a whispered ‘Thank you’. Aretas merely grunted his approval.

That morning’s exercise was one of many. There were other formations to practice in the days that followed, mostly the attack ones. The simplest was ‘line abreast’. This was the same as doubling up in ‘column’, so eight in a rank and four files deep, but the ranks were extended by riders from the other troops. So, we ended up forty-eight riders along and four deep and when we charged, it was exhilarating and must have been quite a sight for those watching. But always, ‘Keep formation’ was drummed into us by Aretas.

The more difficult attack formations were the ‘delta’ and the ‘double-delta’. The ‘delta’ is what I had seen practiced when I first arrived. For our troop, Aretas would take point position and three riders would place themselves in a second rank behind him. Five more would follow in the third rank, seven in the fourth and so on. The ‘double- delta’ was like two ‘deltas’ back-to-back. The advantage of these formations lay in that your best men were placed at the potential spearheads of an attack, and you could change direction quickly and follow the lead of the new point horseman.

When we were not riding formations, we practiced endlessly with the stabbing spear and also with sword, shield, and horse. We were expected to wield the sword only if the spear became unusable, and I was already proficient enough. Our boiled leather shield with its iron rim was there mainly for protection, but you could push with it against an enemy rider at close quarters and unseat him. I had never thought a horse could be used as a weapon, but I was wrong. If you timed it properly when charging, your mount could sideswipe an enemy’s and knock it off balance, and hooves were formidable against soldiers on foot. I had been afraid Polios would not take to military life, but he loved it. I was certain it was he who was mainly responsible for keeping us properly in line.

*

Every so often we were given leave to visit the town. Polemon and Dokimos took me in tow the first time. They argued about whether I was adult enough to be introduced to Parthenope.

‘Who’s Parthenope?’ I enquired.

‘You have never seen anyone like her in all your wild sexual imaginations,’ said Polemon.

‘Yes, she’s a bit too much for you, lad,’ added Dokimos.

‘Come on,’ I retorted, ‘What do you take me for? Do you think I have no experience of girls? Do you think I was only consorting with sheep and goats on the farm back