"Gentlemen," Alexander said, sweeping into the large courtyard of his Sidon house, followed by his Somatophylakes.
This staff meeting involved enough men to require more space than available in any room here, and the courtyard had been designed to receive guests, with a handsome chair of inlaid ivory and mother-of-pearl set up under a covered porch.
Alexander didn't sit in the chair, just as he was dressed no differently than his men: long-sleeved chiton with a simple red border, his regular cloak—saffron with a purple border—and riding boots. All the highest officers in the army from the various taxiarchs of infantry battalions to the commanders of allied troops, auxiliaries, and cavalry were in attendance. Parmenion took his position at Alexander's right hand while the rest gathered around in a loose clump. Some of them were kings or descended from them, like Perdikkas, so Alexander had to assert his authority not just by blood, or for being the son of Philip.
He commanded by demonstrated victory: at Granikos, then by the subjugation of Ionia, Lydia, and Karia, but most of all, his decisive win at Issos.
So his authority had grown with each success, yet these were still mostly his father's officers. He couldn't move too fast in replacing them. Nor did he want to get rid of all of them. They had years of experience, even if most of them lacked his flashes of brilliance.
He wasn't modest. Princes couldn't be, and for a king, modesty was deadly. He'd known for years that he had some special gift for strategy, as well as command. The latter he'd been taught since he could toddle, but the former he just had. His father had seen it, because his father had had it, too, if not to the same degree. Alexander could look at a battlefield and devise the right strategy, like the solution to one of Aristotle's mind-teaser puzzles. And it worked. It always worked. He won, and won, and won again. Most of the men gathered here had begun to recognize what he could do, men like Krateros, one of Parmenion's better officers, as well as Parmenion himself.
Yet a few still saw him as a boy, wet behind the ears, assigning his victories to fortune and his father's army, as if one could put troops in the field like a child's wind-up toy and assume they'd win without direction. Those were the ones Alexander intended to start easing out, retiring some for age, or more often appointing them to administrative positions in his rear, elevating his own men into vacant slots.
But that meant his own choices had to have proved themselves with responsibility greater than commanding a file of sixteen men.
While greeting him, several of the officers glanced sidewise at the one standing quietly near the back, the only one who wasn't of equal rank. He'd been to such meetings before, but rarely, and always as Alexander's friend, sitting somewhere behind Alexander. Today, he'd come in separately from the king, and Alexander expected the others wanted to know what he was doing there.
"Another letter arrived from Tyre yesterday," Alexander began. "They're still refusing my request to visit the temple in their city, although mouthing platitudes about friendship. I think we need to prepare for the eventuality that we'll be back on a war footing soon, and secure what we've already won in Syria.
"To that end, Parmenion," he turned to the man on his right. "I'd like you to return to Damascus with a battalion and shore up Menon there, keep an eye on the treasury. You won it, so now it's your job to guard it." Grinning, he clapped the man on the shoulder. "Maybe enjoy a bit of it, too. I know you ran your best horse to death to get there after Issos. Find a new one, whatever the cost."
"Don't put me out to pasture with the horses," Parmenion replied.
"Far from it. But I need to split up my army to keep the countryside subdued until the Levantine coast is ours. So I need my best general guarding the coin that's paying for all of it."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Philotas said, half-laughing, but Alexander wasn't amused. Neither was Philotas's father.
"It's a choice his father would have made," Parmenion pointed out, which was high praise from the Old Man, and a verbal swat on the butt to a son too old now to turn over his knee.
Alexander ignored the exchange. "I'll be sending Darius's family back with you, at least until I have a better idea which way Tyre will jump." He turned then to the man on his left. "Krateros, I'd like your battalion, and … Nikanor, give him an additional thousand from the Hypaspists—not the agema—to range inland and clear out any bandits who've decided to set up shop, taking advantage of the chaos after Issos. That includes the traitor Amyntos Antiochou. If you catch him, don't kill him. I want to do that personally."
"I'll deliver him to you with a bow, Alexander." Krateros was grinning.
"If you can catch him," Philotas added.
"Philotas, I'm going to geld you if you make one more wisecrack belittling a fellow officer," Alexander warned.
That brought everything to a full stop. Alexander didn't continue for ten breaths, then returned to his plans. The rest of the men avoided looking at Philotas, who was seething.
"The remainder of the army will stay in Sidon for a few more days to receive supplies to support us as we head south. Interestingly, Tyre did deliver supplies even if she's playing cagey, which is why I'm not in a hurry to open hostilities. She might come around."
"Tyre would be a hard nut to crack, so it's wise to give them a chance," Parmenion agreed.
"I'm not even sure where you'd start," said Sitalkes, a Thracian prince. Alexander hadn't been terribly sure of him until Granikos, as the Thracians had fought Macedonia as often as they'd been allies. But Sitalkes had proven himself at the river, and again at Issos, so he was now part of Alexander's senior staff. "It's a fucking island and we don't have a fleet."
"And it's being supplied by the Persian fleet and Carthage, probably," Menes added. "All the Phoenician boats are with Pharnabasos."
"Tyre's problem," Alexander pointed out, "is her arrogance. Yes, she's an island. She thinks that's good enough."
"Isn't it?"
"Not if I make her part of the mainland."
That brought another full stop. He studied their faces, some astonished, some just to the left of appalled, and a few edging toward laughter, assuming he was making a joke.
"Son, that's…ambitious," Parmenion said.
"Of course it is. This entire venture has been ambitious from the start. Why stop now?"
Krateros chuckled at that. A few others joined in, including Perdikkas and Sitalkes.
"How would you even do it?" Kleitos asked, but more as if curious than doubting.
"Build a mole."
"That's crazy talk." But Kleitos was laughing.
"We'll see how matters fall out with Tyre. All the other Phoenician cities are ours. She may decide it's the better part of valor to join us. Pharnabasos lost part of his fleet at Kallipolis; he's still out there, but weakened. Tyre may capitulate rather than try to hold us off without firm support from Persia."
"It would be the smart thing to do," Parmenion agreed.
"In any case, we need to prepare for the possibility of hostilities, which means we need to get the army back on the road, south.
"Yet with Stratos ousted, Sidon needs a king, one loyal to us. I don't have time to mess with finding one, so I need somebody to do it for me, and who can also work with the local magistrates to send messages covertly to their ship captains still with the Persians. Pharnabasos probably won't surrender, but let's see if we can peel off some more of his ships. I had to give up our own fleet while we were in Ionia. I couldn't afford to maintain it. Now, I can. As Sitalkes pointed out, I'll need ships if I do have to attack Tyre."
The men were looking back and forth, wondering who Alexander had in mind. Parmenion was assigned and Krateros was assigned. Philotas stepped forward. "I'll do it. Cavalry can't offer much on the water. You can spare me."
"I already have someone in mind."
Expressions turned quizzical, and Alexander nodded past them. "Hephaistion Amyntoros will find me a king, and get me a navy."
Silence held for three beats, then the protests rained down like Persian arrows. Hephaistion's olive complexion had paled. "Shut up," Alexander said after a bit. He didn't shout; he didn't need to. Philotas seemed to be the angriest, like a child denied a treat he believed himself entitled to. But even commanders who hadn't expected to get the command were clearly puzzled by Alexander's choice—except perhaps Perdikkas. He was smirking, the bastard.
"Son, Hephaistion is a fine young officer," Parmenion said finally, "but this is quite a responsibility." Other men murmured. "Why not let a king choose a king? That would be appropriate. Leave Sitalkes here."
"I need Sitalkes and his men at Tyre, especially if we do wind up in an assault. The Thracians fight like cornered wolves." Pleased, Sitalkes grinned at that. "Battalion and auxiliary commanders belong at Tyre, or securing our rear and inland. Hephaistion, I can spare."
Well, as an officer. At a personal level, it would be much more difficult. But he was moving pieces on the big board and didn't want his men to see exactly what he was doing yet. A king for Sidon was, in the larger picture, not terribly important. Alexander would agree to whoever Hephaistion found; his friend was shrewd enough to pick someone decent. Getting a fleet was more important, and probably trickier, but Hephaistion had a certain gift for sweet-talk, and that pretty smile. This wasn't the sort of situation likely to trigger his insecurities and make him combative.
Truth was, Alexander's end goal wasn't about getting a king, or even a fleet, it was about maneuvering his Hypaspistes Oktopos and most trusted friend into a more prominent position.
"I'll ask Admetos to find a temporary replacement," he nodded to Admetos, standing in the back, "or better yet, leave Hephaistion his file as a garrison, and he can take care of matters here for me while we march towards Tyre."
"He's getting this because you're fucking him," Philotas snapped.
It was unbelievably blunt, even at a staff meeting, maybe especially at a staff meeting, and his own father moved towards him, but Alexander threw out his arm in front of Parmenion. Turning his gaze on Philotas, he took four steps forward, confronting him. He deliberately didn't look at Hephaistion. Philotas seemed to realize he'd let his anger wag his tongue, but it was too late to take it back, so he just raised his chin slightly in challenge.
"I'm going to assume that was driven by disappointment. It was fucking unbecoming for an officer. As I said—just yesterday—Hephaistion was given his position in the Hypaspists at Admetos's nomination. Perhaps you'd like to take this up with Admetos?" Alexander gestured to the huge commander, who'd been mostly silent through the meeting. Admetos simply inclined his head towards his king. Alexander knew he liked Hephaistion.
"So, yes, Philotas, I chose a man who I've known since we were boys, almost as long as I've known you, and who is loyal to me. I've never made a secret of my affection for him. But my affection for him isn't why he's getting the job. In case you failed to notice, he and several other officers are quartering with a pair of young men from a prominent family here in Sidon. They just might be advantageous as advisors. He's not in this house and I've barely seen him for two weeks, so what influence you think he might be leveraging from my bedchamber you need to explain."
Tension sparked like Zeus's lightning. Even these officers, hardly strangers to conflict or confrontation, seemed to be holding their breath. A few had glanced at Hephaistion, who remained as silent as stone near the rear. Alexander would have liked to know what his face showed, but it would have been the worst thing in the world for Alexander to look.
Philotas dropped his eyes. He was going to back down, but he wouldn't forget. On the one hand, Alexander hated that he'd made the challenge, but perhaps it had a silver lining, allowing Alexander to confront the whispers bluntly. He was sure Philotas hadn't been convinced, and probably some of the others remained dubious, as well, yet now they'd have to protest his choice reasonably, not from spite.
And nobody did.
"We're done here," Alexander said. But he didn't move away from Philotas. It was Philotas who had to back off. Parmenion was watching, clearly not happy with him. Krateros was watching, too, like a vulture. So were a few other officers, including Menes and Kleitos. At the highest levels, ambition was ruthless.
The staff meeting broke up. "Perdikkas, Hephaistion, Admetos, stay," Alexander said. "Parmenion, Krateros, meet me in my office after you get something to eat. We'll make plans." To his Somatophylakes, he waved a hand, meaning they should retire out of hearing.
The rest filed out and Alexander motioned the remaining three closer. "Admetos, sorry to spring that on you. I didn't want word to get out before I announced my decision. The Hypaspists will be on various duties if we have to go up against Tyre, but I'd like to leave a cohort back in Sidon, to discourage any mind-changing. The more I think about it, the more I think sixteen may not be enough, but I don't want it to look threatening. What can you give me? Or really, give Hephaistion?"
The commander tilted his head thoughtfully. "If you want a serious presence but not a threatening one, then I'd say three files is plenty and it doesn't leave me much reduced." He glanced at Hephaistion. "You have a preference whose files?"
His friend still seemed a bit stunned, but he'd been with Alexander long enough to roll with punches. He just usually preferred to sit back and watch, and comment in private later. "Ariston son of Demetrios and Attalos son of Andromenes."
"Good choices. You have your forty-eight."
Hephaistion nodded. "Thank you."
"Dismissed," Alexander told the agema commander. "I need to discuss details with these two."
Admetos departed. The man was so tall, he had to duck his head to exit the house's main entry.
"Why the fuck didn't you warn me?" Hephaistion snapped as soon as it was just the three of them.
"I didn't want anyone to know before I did it," Alexander admitted. He tilted his head. "And would you have shown up today if you'd been aware of what I was about to dump on you?" The question was only half jesting.
"You also like your theater."
"Shut up, Hephaistion. You're getting a promotion—or didn't you figure that out yet?"
"Fuck off," Hephaistion told Perdikkas without looking at him. He still held Alexander's eyes.
"What Perdikkas said. Your sixteen just went to forty-eight, and Admetos let you choose them. I notice Seleukos wasn't one."
"Fuck Seleukos."
"You're Sidon's new garrison commander, at least temporarily. You said it yourself, I need to keep troops in Byblos and Sidon, in case they change their minds."
"And I have to pick a new king? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"
"Get creative. Talk to your hosts. You'll be fine."
Perdikkas had been watching their exchange as if they were ball players batting a leather-stuffed bag back and forth. Now, Alexander turned to him. "I want you to stay here, too, for a couple weeks."
"With my men?"
"No, put them under your second for the duration; we're not fighting yet. Stay here and back him up."
"I need a babysitter?" Hephaistion asked.
"No, but you might like some support. You're in charge." He glanced at Perdikkas, who just nodded. Alexander was sure they both understood. All three of them were about the same age, but Perdikkas's birth, like Alexander's, had advanced him sooner. This was a chance for Perdikkas to throw his weight behind Hephaistion.
Alexander dropped his eyes a moment, then raised them and spoke to Hephaistion. "Sorry about saying I could spare you. I meant militarily."
"I understood."
"Perdikkas is right. I plan to advance you. After Issos, I need men I can trust. So this is my opportunity."
"When are you leaving?" Alexander thought there might be more to his question than planning how he would proceed. Perdikkas was suddenly watching them both carefully.
"Not for three, four days, assuming everything goes according to plan. I want to see off Parmenion and Krateros first."
"I notice you're sending the women back with Parmenion," Perdikkas said.
"I don't have a lot of choice. I can't take them into a potential war. So yes, they'll return to Damascus."
"I'm sure she'll be heartbroken," Perdikkas added.
"Shut up, dickhead." Hephaistion smacked his shoulder.
"And the two of you will need three or four days to make up for two weeks, too."
Both Alexander and Hephaistion rounded on him at once. He just laughed. "It's a good thing the others don't know you two as well as I do. You've made up already, haven't you? For how long?"
"Fuck off." "Since yesterday."
Alexander had been the honest one, but he had the freedom to be.
"Good thing Philotas didn't know that. Now, I need to go talk to my officers. Hephaistion, speak with your hosts, and catch me later."
And finally, it was just Alexander and Hephaistion. They faced off, both with hands on hips. "I may not forgive you for this for a while," Hephaistion warned.
"For promoting you without warning, or making you stay here without me?"
"Both."
"You said you didn't know where you fit anymore. I'm trying to find a place for you. You advise me all the time; I know you're perfectly capable of handling this, even if the others don't yet. And I trust you."
"And if I choose badly, it won't matter."
"You won't choose badly. More importantly, get me those ships."
"Yes, my lord."
"Cut it out."
"That wasn't a joke." Hephaistion's eyes were serious. "You are my king. And I won't let you down. You're sticking your neck out on this one, for me."
Alexander felt the blood rise in his neck and ears. "I've got meetings all afternoon, probably won't be done for hours, then I'll visit Barsine for dinner. It's necessary, especially if she's going back to Damascus this soon." He looked up. "Come late."
"Sneak in and sneak out like yesterday?"
"No. I'll just be busy until late. No sneaking. We are. People can get used to it. We don't have a lot of time, either. I want as much as I can get."
Hephaistion started to reach for his face, then dropped the hand, thinking better of it. Alexander grabbed his head and pulled him down to kiss. Once quick. Then he let go. "Later."
Spinning, he headed up to his office and the many sets of orders he needed to draw up. It was going to be a long several months, but absolutely necessary. They could write. Plus Sidon wasn't that far from Tyre, less than a day's hard ride. Depending on how things went, they could steal the occasional meeting in the flesh. He'd been spoiled, as the last two weeks had taught him. He might appreciate what they had more if he didn't get it as much.
But most of all, Hephaistion needed this assignment. Whatever else came of it, he wasn't going back to simple lochogos in the Hypaspists, even if it was in the agema.
Notes: There's a lot of military-political stuff here. I reviewed Arrian and Curtius, and wanted to throw out a possible reason for Hephaistion's advance after Issos. Prior to and even immediately after, he seems mostly Alexander's personal friend. Important, but a friend. The Levantine campaign is where he's finally given some authority. Alexander won at Granikos, but it could just have been a lark. Yet after his success in Asia Minor, then as Issos, he established himself and could think about switching out Philip's officers for his own men, and the most important of these was, of course, Hephaistion.
On the strap (I bet some of you expected S/M, didn'cha?), these show up sometimes on naughty pottery, clearly meant for leverage.
This little trilogy is now finished. I'm not really a plot guy, so I don't think long term, and never intended to write three stories when I posted the first, but I hope readers liked the ride.
