March of the Ten Thousand , don’t you?’
‘Of course, it’s studied in all the schools now. The prose is very readable and even youngsters can manage it without any difficulty.’
‘Good, listen to this then. We are on the battlefield at Kunaxa, some seventy years ago, and Cyrus the Younger orders the commander Clearchus:
. . . to lead his army against the enemy’s centre, for the reason that the King was stationed there; “and if,” he said, “we kill him there, our whole task is accomplished.” ’
‘So you would like to kill the enemy commander with your own hands,’ said Eumenes in a tone of complete disapproval.
‘This is why I will lead the Vanguard. Then we will take care of Memnon’s mercenaries.’
‘I understand. And now I must take my leave because no matter what I say, you aren’t going to pay any heed to my advice.’
‘Exactly, Mr Secretary General,’ laughed Alexander. ‘But this doesn’t mean that I love you any the less.’
‘I am fond of you too, you stubborn old sod. May the gods protect you.’
‘And may they protect you too, my friend.’
Eumenes left and went to his own tent, where he took off his armour, put something warm on and set about reading a manual of military tactics while he waited for suppertime to come around.
5
T HE RIVER RAN FAST , its waters swollen by the melting snows on the Pontus mountains, and a light westerly wind stirred the leaves of the poplars which grew along the banks. The sides of the banks themselves were steep, clayey, sodden after the rains.
Alexander, Hephaestion, Seleucus and Perdiccas were all positioned on a small rise from which they could see both the course of the Granicus and a certain extent of the territory beyond the eastern bank.
‘What do you think?’ asked the King.
‘The clay on the banks is very wet and slippery,’ said Seleucus. ‘If the barbarians take up position along the river they will let loose a rain of arrows and javelins and wipe out many of us before we reach the other side. As for those of us who do get across, our horses will sink up to their knees in the mud, many of them will be lamed and we will be at the total mercy of our enemies once more.’
‘It is not an easy situation,’ Perdiccas commented dryly.
‘It’s too early to begin to worry about it. Let’s wait for the scouts to return.’
They waited in silence for some time, and the gurgling of the flowing water was drowned out only by the monotonous croaking of the frogs in the ditches nearby and the chirping of the crickets just beginning in the peaceful evening. At a certain point there came a call, like an owl.
‘It’s them,’ said Hephaestion.
They heard the noise of men walking through the sodden clay and then the gurgling of the river around two dark figures who were fording it – two of their scouts from the shieldsmen battalion.
‘Well?’ asked Alexander impatiently. The two looked terrible – completely covered in red mud from head to toe.
‘Sire,’ said the first of them, ‘the barbarians are three or four stadia from the Granicus, on a small hill which dominates the plain right up to the banks. They have a double row of sentries and four teams of archers patrolling the area between the camp and the banks of the river. It is extremely difficult to cross without being seen. What’s more, there are bonfires burning all around among the guard units and the sentries are using the concave sides of their shields to project the light outwards.’
‘Fine,’ said Alexander. ‘Go back and wait on the other bank. At the slightest movement or sign from the enemy camp, hurry back to this side and raise the alarm with the cavalry guard behind those poplars. I will be told almost instantly and I will decide what is the best thing to do. Go now, and make sure no one spots you.’
The two slid back down into the river and crossed it again in the waist-deep water. Alexander and his companions walked to their horses