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The Chimera
I sometimes stop to ponder… how fortunate am I to not have been of age when all this happened. The sheer madness, the horrid orgy of it all! It took years before I learned the whole truth of that ordeal. And if I were in my father’s stead on that day I would have embraced that old tradition of the Getai and sent myself willingly to the gods.
After our ships left harbour they were soon followed by another, smaller fleet. I thought those were more of our men, fleeing to safety as we were. In fact, those ships carried loot… but from where? The answer was as simple as it was shocking: from our own city. Rather than leaving Athena’s city in the hands of the Macedonian barbarians, our Strategoi decided to take all its treasures with us. The temples were emptied, their gold melted and stored away, the precious jewels, the artefacts of our ancestors all stowed aboard ship. The fields were burned, the wells poisoned… nothing but scorched earth was left for the invaders.
A handful of dust was carried by one of our emissaries to the king of Macedon with a simple, laconic message: “This is what you come to conquer.” But Antigonos’ greed could not be sated.
The messenger never returned.
Days passed slowly on the raging seas. For a few weeks we encountered no other ships until we saw a fleet ominously approaching. We did not need to see the shine of their shields or the blackness of their banners to know these were Makedonian raiders set to capture the prizes that our ships held. A mighty collision woke me up from my reverie. Outside of the cabin I slept in I could hear the sounds of battle raging, that distinctive clattering melody of iron against bronze against wood and flesh. The sound of blood gushing from a fresh wound and slithering across the floor. It slid across the floor and entered the room. I could not move when it encircled my feet, I was paralysed. My mother had to pick me up and put me on the bed.
I remember her trying to reassure me that our soldiers' bravery would keep up safe. O, how I wish those words were true, but the gods are cruel. Indeed I was kept safe... one brave Athenian saved me from being impaled on a Makedonian spear. But he could not rescue my mother from the same fate.
It drove my father insane. Though we emerged victorious from the battle, it felt nothing like a victory for him. He would never be the same. A whole month passed and his face showed no expression. He probably barely ate or drank in this time... and then only if his loyal soldiers forced him to.
I think I can only begin to grasp the rage my father must have felt then, it was perhaps similar to the one that crawls over me now when I think of those times. Instead of sailing all the way to Rhodos as we had planned, he ordered the ships northward, to the Makedonian settlement of Mytilene.
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We took them by surprise. Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine a Greek navy would land in these parts. Like raging lions our soldiers took the town and then continued Eastward, towards the lands of Seleukos’ great empire. To think that close to these lands Achilles and Odysseus once landed their ships to conquer mighty Troy. So did we set out for conquest. Pergamon was the first to fall under our blade, we then moved South to where the massive temple of Artemis lay. Perhaps the most breath-taking structure I have ever laid my eyes upon, it was a great glory for our army to have retrieved this ancient wonder. The city of Halicarnassus further South surrendered without a fight the following spring.
Within two years of our shameful flight we had succeeded in conquering most of the old Greek settlements on the coast of Anatolia. Our army was by then comprised of mostly mercenaries, bloodthirsty mutts without a cause… but with the experience and ruthlessness that we needed to achieve the feat. Rhodos was no longer isolated from friendly lands, commerce flourished, we began to rebuild and restore. But we could not stop there… not while our homeland lay under the heavy boot of Makedonia’s hegemony. We were driven to conquer.
And so, three years after the sack of Athenai our Hegemon, my father, re-assembled the army and laid siege to Ipsos, a great city with a wondrous history, the site of a glorious battle, soon to deliver us our own glory on Nike’s wings. I wish I had been there that day. My father told me the Seleukid army fought like lions and though they were outnumbered, they would not yield and held out till the very last of them breathed no more. In their honour there lies a statue in the city’s centre, a great bronze lion carrying a wounded soldier’s body, it was made by the finest sculptor in the lands. They well deserved it. And the victory it commemorates was well deserved as well. Our allies, the Ptolemaioi were encouraged by our success and attacked the Seleukid Empire themselves with a fierceness their soldiers had not shown in years.
Once more, we were unstoppable. The lands of Anatolia quickly fell under our rule, and one after another, the armies of Seleukeia crumbled before our spears. The echoes of our battlecries were heard across the Aigaion, and Makedonians trembled at the news of their allies’ defeat.
But, alas, I am reminded of how unpredictable and treacherous Man can be. In the midst of our conquest, an unlikely foe rises. A power yet unchallenged by anyone in the region, the kingdom of Pontos seeks in its pride to match our conquests. The Pontic king himself leads an army against Sinope, an old ally of ours and we are forced to wage war against yet another kingdom.
So many obstacles do the gods place in our path. How many more of these Hrakleian tasks must we endure before we may finally face the Chimera of the Makedonian conquering army.
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