Also, until now the knowledge that they knew how to make gunpowder had been something of a secret. But now it was known all over Tyre…and that meant Ptolemy and Antigonus—not to mention Eumenes—would know.
Sardis
December 15
“What do you hear from Tyre?” Eumenes looked over at Attalus with a lifted eyebrow. Eumenes was situated in a secondary building of the palace compound. He was sitting on a couch with a lap desk on his lap and a pot of ink, doing the books.
“The same thing you do. There was an explosion at the powder mill,” Attalus admitted. “And no, I didn’t get the formula. Dareios is keeping it a family secret, even now that his son died in the explosion. Perhaps especially now.”
“It would have been polite to let me know that there was a powder mill in Tyre,” Eumenes said, then waved that issue away for the moment. “You know that Ptolemy knows about the black powder that explodes by now, and he will have heard it’s powerful enough to knock down buildings.”
“I don’t think that he will be able to do much with the knowledge,” Attalus said.
Eumenes wasn’t reassured. He had been informed by his friend, Apelles, that Ptolemy was actively recruiting scholars. Apelles hadn’t gone to Alexandria and, with some difficulty, he had convinced his friend, Nausiphanes, not to go. However, a youngster he liked, Epicurus, took a ship to Alexandria to see what the new library was going to be like.
There was a knock at the door and a moment later an officer came in. “We have more defectors from Antigonus’ army. Fifty of the Companion Cavalry.”
“Go ahead, Attalus,” Eumenes said. “No doubt they will be more comfortable with you than with me.” The Companions were made up almost exclusively of Macedonian nobility. They would be willing enough to take Attalus’ orders, but not Eumenes’. That was why Eumenes was developing his own cavalry force and drilling them constantly.
“Before I go, what does the latest message from Antigonus say?”
“I believe he’s claiming my mother was a nanny goat and my father was a rabbit.”
“Interesting cross, that.” Attalus laughed.
“Baaaaaaaa!” Eumenes said.
Artonis came in as Attalus left, and Eumenes smiled. The Persian girl Alexander had married him to had proven to be a blessing. She was a pretty enough girl, but more than that, she had a ready wit and a warm nature.
“Are you letting your ancestral tongue loose again?” She smiled.
“At least I’m not hopping.”
Artonis put her feet together and hopped. She was in her eighth month and everything jiggled. Suddenly she stopped, and went to a chair. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“Are you well? Should I call the healers?”
“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, though to Eumenes’ eye she didn’t look fine. She looked pale and there was a sudden ripple across her belly.
“You’re not fine. I’m calling the healers.” Eumenes set the lap desk aside and stood.
☆ ☆ ☆
“Everything is fine, Eumenes. They were false contractions. It’s not unusual this late in the pregnancy,” the healer said.
Cleopatra nodded in agreement. “I had them with my son. And Artonis seems healthy.”
A week earlier, Cleopatra had endorsed Roxane’s appointment of Eumenes as strategos for the empire. She watched the political winds and decided that Eumenes was the right horse. Being Cleopatra, she offered an olive branch to Eurydice and even to Antigonus, to some extent, offering to host Eurydice and Philip and guarantee their safety while any disagreements between Eurydice’s and Roxane’s proclamations were ironed out.
Eurydice—or at least a letter signed by Eurydice—questioned her veracity, based on the report that Cleopatra’s mother, Olympias, had Philip murdered in that other history. Olympias called that report a blatant lie, but Eumenes wasn’t so sure. Neither, he knew, was Cleopatra.
“Don’t worry about Artonis, Eumenes. Worry about Antigonus. Not everyone is happy about your promotion to strategos, and some of the generals—Menander, for instance—are going over to him just because they’re angered by that.”
“I know. I was half expecting him to attack by now, though Menander always was a snake. I expect the butterfly book is right. He would be fighting against me even if he had gotten to keep Lydia.”
It was all settling out. The generals were choosing up sides. Ptolemy was ostensibly neutral, but neutral in favor of Antigonus. The old-line Macedonians, those most offended by Eumenes’ promotion, were going over to Antigonus. And then another contingent that didn’t like Eumenes, but didn’t trust Antigonus, was staying out of it. And, finally, there was a surprisingly large group that was taking Roxane’s proclamation at face value and supporting Eumenes out of loyalty to Alexander.
“It’s coming soon,” Eumenes said as he looked out at the hills surrounding Sardis. “The battle for the heart of Alexander’s empire is coming and we have to be ready. That’s why I want the Shields’ baggage train safely inside your walls, Cleopatra. And I’ll be leaving Pharnabazus here with a force of the new crossbowmen to guard the walls. Most of the Shields know what happened in the other history, and they are all at great pains to assure me that it won’t happen that way again. But we’ll all be happier knowing their wives and wealth are safe here.”
Army camp of Antigonus the One-eyed, Cappadocia
December 20
Cassander shifted in his saddle to try to ease the not-quite blisters. He could ride—everyone in his station had to be able to ride—but he wasn’t truly comfortable on a horse the way his younger brother was. Now he sat on his horse, next to Plistarch, watching the infantry march by. Most of the Silver Shields were with Eumenes, and of those who were left, most had gone with Attalus after Triparadisus. At this point, the only Silver Shields in the army were the one hundred and twenty-four men who acted as guards for Eurydice and Philip. The infantry he watched weren’t the Silver Shields. They were veterans, but not elite. They carried the long sarissa pike, and they marched in good order. But they lacked the élan that the Shields had.
The army was approaching Celaenae on the Persian road to Sardis, and Cassander wasn’t thrilled with the plan. Mostly he wasn’t thrilled because he and his brother were being left out here with most of the infantry and only a small contingent of cavalry, as bait to draw Eumenes away from Sardis. Antigonus had read the butterfly book, the book of the future, and had determined the weakness of the Silver Shields and, for that matter, of Eumenes’ army. That weakness was the baggage train, the wives and children and the decades worth of loot that the army had gleaned over the course of the wars.
Eumenes had figured out the same thing, so their spies had reported. That was why the baggage train was being left secure in Sardis. Antigonus had already left with most of the cavalry, to swing around wide and hit Sardis once Eumenes came out to fight.
☆ ☆ ☆
“Well, now we see,” Cleopatra said with a bitter laugh, “that Plutarch, as you might expect from someone born so near Delphi, gets the outline of the thing, but is misleading.”
Eumenes tried to keep his laugh less bitter, but it wasn’t easy. It was true that he would much prefer to fight here near Sardis. The mostly flat ground was better for cavalry and his cavalry was better than Antigonus’. He also had more of it and it was mostly not Macedonian, so more trustworthy. Roxane’s proclamation had gone a long way to stiffening the Silver Shields and other mostly Macedonian infantry in his command, but it just wasn’t as effective as the cavalry. Not as flexible. Alexander had always used the infantry as the anvil, to hold the enemy in place while the cavalry pounded on them from unexpected angles. According to Plutarch, in the butterfly book, Cleopatra had ordered him away because she was afraid of Antipater, and that might have been true in the other history. But Eumenes expected that, even then, it had been as much a tactical necessity as it was going to be here.
Celaenae was in the hills. It was not good cavalry c
ountry, but the small city controlled the main road to the east and was wealthy in its own right. If Antigonus took it, he could use it as a base and block Eumenes from most of the eastern empire. Besides, Eumenes had obligations to the people of Celaenae. One of the disadvantages of being the legitimate strategos of the empire was he had to act like it. All of which meant that he was going to have to take his cavalry and infantry up into the hills.
“The wives of your soldiers will be safe here, Strategos Eumenes, and so will their loot.”
Eumenes slapped his leather gloves against his thigh and nodded sharply. Then he marched down the steps of the royal apartments, took the reins from his aide, mounted his horse, and rode out to join his army.
The hills outside Celaenae
December 25
Celaenae was holding out. That was a surprise. Antigonus should have taken the place by now. Even with the smaller army that he had out of Triparadisus, he should have been able to take Celaenae. Its walls were barely twelve feet tall and it was not well defended. Old men and boys. Though Eumenes had reason to respect old men in war.
It was almost as though they were—
Eumenes stopped and looked at the army again. It was too small. Not just because it was almost entirely infantry. Eumenes doubted there were five hundred horsemen over there and half of those were officers.
He’d been fooled. That wasn’t Antigonus’ army. It was just his infantry.
Almost, Eumenes was tempted to turn around and go back to Sardis. He knew now that Antigonus was already there, besieging Cleopatra. But no. He had to fight here and now, for two reasons. First, he had to relieve Celaenae. To come to the gates and turn away would stink of betrayal all the way to Zeus’ throne.
Second, Alexander’s third rule of war: Attack them separately when you can. Eumenes didn’t know it, but that rule would travel down the ages as the adage “defeat in detail” or, in the pithy phrase of Nathan Bedford Forrest, “Hit ’em where they ain’t.”
Eumenes had Antigonus’ anvil before him, with no hammer to protect it. He could pound it into plowshares at his leisure, and what real use is a hammer if you don’t have an anvil?
He called over Attalus, Alcetas, Polemon, and Docimus, then gave his orders. They took them, Alcetas insisting that he wouldn’t have been fooled by the ruse. Attalus looked at his brother-in-law with a half-smile on his face, and simply nodded at Eumenes’ orders. Polemon looked to Attalus and when Attalus nodded, he did the same. Docimus looked at Attalus too, which was just a bit worrying. Eumenes would either have to get Attalus more firmly on his side, or do something about the emerging clique.
Attalus was in charge of the Macedonian cavalry and Eumenes took personal command of the non-Macedonian cavalry he had been recruiting and training since Babylon.
Polemon was in nominal command of the infantry. They would take his orders as long as they believed that they came from Eumenes because of Roxane’s proclamation—Hera bless the girl for it.
The infantry moved out first, and there was much shouting and cheering from the walls of Celaenae. At the center of the infantry line were the Shields, their silver-embossed shields shining in the sun. Eumenes watched as the enemy infantry shifted from the attack on the walls to face the new threat.
As Eumenes watched, he began to feel better. The knot in his guts began to unknot. For, with every step, the march was firmer.
It was the Shields, those tough old bastards who had marched with Alexander to India and back, and were the only ones who had ever faced the great man down. They knew they were unstoppable and as they moved forward, the phalanx on their left and right came to know it too. Eumenes could see it happening and he could see its effect on the infantry in front of them. Gods.
The enemy’s sarissa came down without orders and way too soon. It was hard to keep a sarissa in combat position. To hold it out for any significant amount of time was an exercise in torture. A sarissa was heavy, and the weight of the iron blade was as much as twenty-three feet in front of you. Eumenes had never heard of Archimedes since the great scientist wouldn’t be born for another thirty-odd years. But any Silver Shield could explain the lever principle from the point of view of the fulcrum. They knew that you waited until the last possible moment before lowering that long pole into position.
The Silver Shields marched up to about a hundred feet from the enemy infantry, then Polemon shouted a command, “Halt!” then another, “Rest!” The Silver Shields stopped before the enemy infantry, their sarissa pointing at the sky, and rested. There was a ripple of laughter from the Silver Shields. It started with one or two individuals, then swelled and was taken up by the rest of Eumenes’ infantry. It never got to the point of rolling on the ground, as they had to hold up their sarissa, after all. But they just stood there, laughing while the enemy infantry held their sarissa out in front of them, unable to reach the Shields while their arms turned to fire, then to water.
There was a shout. Eumenes recognized the voice. It was Cassander’s little brother, Plistarch. “Forward!”
Eumenes was expecting Polemon to order the Shields to lower their sarissa in preparation for the enemy advance. But Polemon didn’t. Instead, he rode out in front of the Shields and—utterly ignoring the approaching infantry—ordered the Shields to dress ranks.
It was a studied insult, and Polemon didn’t carry it off as well as Alexander would have. Not nearly as well. But it was good enough. The Shields dressed ranks and Polemon ordered the sarissa down, and barely got his horse out of the way in time. “Advance!” The sarissa came down like a breaking wave, and in a number of cases they banged the enemy infantry’s sarissa right out of their hands.
A sarissa can be manipulated, even as long as it is. It takes muscles like iron and years of experience, but you can almost fence with the things if you’re good enough and fresh from a good laugh.
Eumenes’ infantry was good enough.
They knocked aside the enemy’s sarissa as they marched forward, and the enemy started to crumble. That was when Cassander should have used his cavalry, once Eumenes’ infantry was fully occupied. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have any cavalry to speak of.
But Eumenes did. Eumenes had almost ten thousand cavalry in three contingents. The Macedonians on the right; his own men in the center; and Attalus’ Companion Cavalry, the part that had defected to their side after the proclamation, on the left.
The Macedonians stayed with the infantry to hold off any attempt at a cavalry response. And the rest of Eumenes’ cavalry swung around the army and along the walls of Celaenae to take the baggage train.
☆ ☆ ☆
Cassander got away. His brother stayed with the army, but Cassander ran, and was probably still running on a new horse. And Eumenes was stuck here.
Stuck here because he couldn’t quite trust his officers not to commit an atrocity by massacring the enemy infantry if he left them on their own.
Eumenes wanted that infantry. He wasn’t sure of everything in the butterfly book, but he was starting to suspect that the role of infantry was going to change, but not be eliminated. The anvil would still be needed, even if the needs of the smith required its shape to change. He had captured the infantry under Craterus, and that was a big part of his present infantry force. That force, with the Silver Shields strengthening it, had just won a massive victory—and proven itself to itself in the process. If Eumenes could integrate these new men into his force, he would have an anvil bigger than any since Alexander. Combined with the cavalry, he would be difficult for anyone but Ptolemy to take on.
Assuming, of course, his army didn’t sell him to Antigonus to buy back their wives and goods from the sack of Sardis. For three vital days he was stuck reforming his army and convincing Polemon to take care of the prisoners, not just murder them and take their stuff. Then and only then could he take his cavalry and head back to Sardis.
Sardis
December 29
Seleucus rode up to Antigonus. “The Companions are
ready.”
Antigonus turned so that his remaining eye could see the man. Seleucus liked to approach from his blind side. It was one more sign of the subtle disrespect Seleucus showed almost everyone. He pointed to any flaw he could, always in a way that you couldn’t take offense at without sounding like a vain fool. It was part of the man’s arrogance and it was getting tiresome, but aside from Eurydice’s endorsement, Antigonus had no more rank than Seleucus, not the way Macedonians counted such things. He held a satrapy, but to get Seleucus’ support he’d had to grant him Babylon as his satrapy, and get Eurydice to endorse it.
“Those of them who are left,” Antigonus said sourly. A number of the Companions left after Roxane’s proclamation to go to Eumenes. Not all of them, thankfully. Even with Roxane’s endorsement, some weren’t willing to put themselves under the orders of a Greek peasant. Many of them had simply gone home.
Seleucus’ smile got a little tighter and Antigonus cursed himself for letting his temper get the best of him. He needed the smarmy bastard. “Very well. You’ll take the right flank, as we discussed.”
☆ ☆ ☆
Antigonus’ cavalry charged for the gates and along the wall. Cavalry using their horses to get in fast, then trying to scale the walls from horseback. But they ran into a rain of arrows.
The arrows came over the wall in sheets. Seleucus rode at the head of the Companions, and it seemed like every arrow was coming right at him. It just seemed that way, and he knew that. He had been in battle before. He rode on as the arrows scythed through his troops. He got to the wall, reached up and grabbed the top of it. A sword came down half an inch from his hand, striking sparks on the stone. He jerked himself up with all the energy of his terror and bowled over the boy holding the sword. It was a boy, Seleucus realized in a moment of clarity. The walls of Sardis were being defended by women and boys, with only a sprinkling of mature warriors. Then a crossbow bolt took him in the chest and he went back over the wall.