'Because we have not the power,' retorted Parmenion. 'Memnon now has close to fifty thousand warriors, highly trained and well armed. We would risk being crushed.'
'I do not believe that.'
'Believe what you will.'
Hephaistion crouched down beside the Spartan. 'Listen to me, sir, the men are becoming downhearted. We must have a victory.'
Parmenion's cold blue eyes locked to Hephaistion's gaze. 'You think I do not want a victory? Gods, man! I would give my right arm for one. But look at the terrain,' he said, gesturing at the goatskin map. 'Once we accept battle the Persians will envelop our flanks, cutting off any retreat. Then we would be lost. I know this is not easy for a young man like yourself to accept, but we have fewer than a thousand cavalry and only a few hundred bowmen. We could not hold them. But what we can do is keep the enemy on the march, allowing Alexander an unopposed crossing of the Dardanelles with the main army. Then we will have the battle you dream of.'
'So speaks the Lion of Macedon!' muttered Hephaistion with a sneer. 'There was a time when the very mention of your name would send the enemy into flight. But all men grow old.'
Parmenion smiled. 'If fortunate we grow wiser with age, child. And the yapping of puppies bothers us not at all.'
The Spartan returned his attention to the map and Hephaistion, swallowing his fury, left the tent. For an hour or more he patrolled the camp, checking on sentries, talking to the men, then he climbed the winding path of the eastern cliff and stood in the moonlight gazing east over the fabled lands of the Persian Empire. Such wealth for the taking! Such glory to be won! Beyond Ionia was Phrygia, rich in metals, silver, gold and iron. Beyond that Cappadocia, Armenia, Mesopotamia. And then the heartlands of the Empire: Babylonia, Media and Persia itself.
The annual revenue of Macedonia was 800 talents of silver — a vast fortune. But, so it was said, in Babylon there was a minor treasury containing 240,000 talents of gold.
Hephaistion trembled at the thought of such riches. There were cities of gold and statues of purest silver. There were gems the size of a man's head. Persia! Even the fabled Midas, whose touch transformed all to gold, could not in a single lifetime have created Persia's wealth.
The moon was bright when Hephaistion saw the rider galloping his mount across the narrow plain. The man was wearing the wide-brimmed leather hat sported by the Paionian scouts and Hephaistion waved and shouted to attract his attention. The rider saw him and veered his pony to climb the hillside.
'What news?' Hephaistion asked the scout.
'The King is at Troy, sir,' answered the rider.
Hephaistion punched the air with delight. 'You are sure?' There had been many false reports of Alexander's arrival.
'I saw the army myself. He has with him more than thirty thousand men.'
'Then it has begun!' shouted Hephaistion exultantly.
The Ida Mountains, 334 BC
The two armies met on a plain in the shadows of the towering Ida! Mountains. Hephaistion, riding alongside Parmenion, saw the tents of the Macedonians strung out like pearls upon a necklace, white against the green of the flatlands.
His soldier's eye scanned the regiments waiting ahead. He could see the six brigades of the Macedonian Foot Companions, 9,000 men standing to attention with spears held vertically. Alongside them were the 3,000 Shield Bearers, as Philip's Guards were now known. To the left were the Athenians and Corinthians, around 7,000 allied troops whose presence gave the expedition a united Greek appearance. To the right were the massed ranks of the savage Thracians. It was difficult to see how many there were, for they did not hold to formation but jostled and pushed in a heaving mass. But there must be, Hephaistion reckoned, more than 5,000 of them.
Alexander rode out from the centre of the army: his iron armour shining like polished silver, his helm beneath its white plume glinting with gold. Even Bucephalus was armoured now, with light chain-mail tied around his neck and over his chest, silver wires braided into his black mane and tail.
Hephaistion drew rein as Alexander approached, his captains riding behind him; Cassander, Philotas, Cleitus, Coenus and Parmenion's second son, Nicci.
The King rode directly to Parmenion and dismounted. The older man followed suit and knelt before Alexander.
'No, no,' said the King, stepping forward to lift the Spartan to his feet. ‘I’ll never have you kneel to me. Well met, my friend.' Alexander embraced the taller man. 'I want to hear all your news. But first I'll address your men, and then we will talk in my tent.'
Parmenion bowed and the King turned back to Bucephalus. The horse knelt as he approached and he mounted and rode to the head of Parmenion's 12,000 troops. They sent up a great cheer as he approached them, and snapped to attention. Their armour and cloaks were dust-covered and the men looked tired and drained.
'Well, my lads,' cried Alexander, 'it is good to see you again! You have led the Persians a merry chase. But the running is over now; from this moment we run no longer. We take the battle to the enemy and we will crush the might of Darius beneath our Macedonian heels.' A feeble cheer went up, but it soon died away. Alexander removed his helm, running his fingers through his sweat-drenched golden hair. 'Each man among you will today receive a golden Philip, and I have brought a hundred barrels of Macedonian wine to remind you of home. Tonight we will celebrate your achievements with a grand feast in your honour.'
Hephaistion was stunned. 12,000 gold Philips — each one a year's pay for a common soldier. . and given so casually! A tremendous roar went up from the soldiers which startled Bucephalus, and he reared on his hind legs.
Alexander calmed the stallion and cantered back to where the officers waited.
'Now to serious matters,' he said softly and led them back to the main camp.
Throughout the afternoon Alexander listened intently to the reports of Parmenion and Hephaistion as to the nature and organization of the Persian army. Darius had given command of the warriors to a renegade Greek named Memnon, and he, Parmenion pointed out, was a wily and skilful general. The Persians numbered some 50,000, half being cavalry from Cappadocia and Paphlagonia in the north.
'Brilliant horsemen,' said Hephaistion, 'and utterly fearless.'
'Have there been any major encounters?' Alexander asked.
'No,' answered Parmenion. 'Perhaps twenty skirmishes between outriders, but I avoided full confrontation.'
'No wonder your troops looked so weary,' put in Philotas. 'They have spent the last seven months running away from the enemy.'
'Parmenion was wise to do so,' said Alexander. 'Had we suffered a major defeat here, it is likely we would have lost support in Greece. That in turn would have made this current expedition almost impossible to mount.' He swung back to Parmenion. 'How much support can we expect from the Greek cities?'
'Very little, sire,' said Parmenion. 'At first they welcomed us, sending delegations to assure us of support. But as the months went by they lost heart. And Darius has now strengthened the garrisons in Mytilene and Ephesus.'
Hephaistion listened to the exchanges and watched Parmenion. The Spartan seemed stiff and ill-at-ease, his pale eyes never leaving Alexander's face. But if the King noticed his general's stare he gave no indication of it.
'Where is the enemy now?' Alexander asked.
'They are camped near the town of Zeleia,' Parmenion told him. 'Two days' march to the north-east.'
'Then we shall seek them out,' said Alexander brightly. Suddenly leaning forward, he gripped Parmenion's shoulder.
'Something is troubling you, my dear friend. Speak of it.'