The War against Alexander the Great

[Ludens]

I have always been facinated by Alexander the Great. The immense voyage he made, the victories he won, and off course the amount of black writing about him (even to this day ). But what always amazed me was the way the powerful Persian Empire just folded for Alexander's might. This was partially caused by the fact the the Persian Great King, Darius III, was a coward.

In this story, I tell what could have happened if Persia had resisted more effectively. But that could not have happend under that miserable excuse for a king, Darius III. So I've made a slight alteration to history. Darius III never became king. But why he never became king, I leave for you to find out ...

Ludens

[Ludens]

Part I
The King has fled

Death The fear of Death
Arses opened his eyes, but the image didn’t disappear. It simply faded into the background, ready to return as soon as he lost his concentration. It would never disappear. His entire life Arses would be hounded by the image of the phalanx advancing, despite everything they had done to halt it. They just kept on coming. On and on and on. They didn’t stop Whatever was tried, the phalanx marched on, cutting down everything in its path. In the end, the soldiers had fled, not because they were directly threatened, but because they didn’t want to go up against the phalanx again. And Arses left the battle.

He tried to stop his eyes from growing moist. The Great King should not weep. He tried to turn back his thoughts. Even the hounding image would be better than crying. He still heard the yell that was shouted when he left the field behind him. The King has fled
Arses opened his eyes again, and discovered tears blurring his sight. But it were not tears of pain or sadness. It were tears of despair, tears of anger. How could this have happened? I am the Great King of Persia I am the King of Kings It should not be possible It IS impossible It... It should be impossible. It should be... despaired Arses. Trying to become more rational, he looked around. He looked at the men of his bodyguard, called the Immortals. They looked grim, but not condemning. But he was too far sunk in despair to notice that. He saw rebuking looks everywhere. In the faces of his guards, in the other men’s faces, even in the sky. “Oh Wise Lord, where have I failed? What have I done to displease you?” For the first time in his life, Arses really prayed to the God of the Persians, Ahura Mazda, the Wise Lord. In a court run on intrigues, believing in the Wise Lord did not help you. Anyone who spent any time in the Persian court soon learned not to rely on Gods, but on his own cunning. Because nothing else was to be trusted. But despite the prayer, no sign appeared which could explain Arses why Heavens were displeased.
Perhaps he should turn his horse. No, it was too late, he would be cut down. And he already had fled. The Great King had fled.

“My lord” one of the Immortals said.
The sky had begun to darken. It would soon be night. And night would soon fall upon the Persian Empire, because the Great King had failed. He could not repel the invaders. He could not stop the phalanx.
“My Lord”, the Immortal said for the second time. Arses looked up, but didn’t answer.
“It will be dark soon, my Lord”, the Immortal said. The Great King kept on staring, like someone who was cut off from this world.
“They cannot follow us in the dark, my Lord. We will be safe.” After what seemed like a long time, the Great King appeared to absorb this.
“Are we going to the camp?”
The Immortal, named Orxines, was a veteran. He had seen many battles, both victories and defeats, and had seen many different reactions to both. The Great King seemed to be unable to accept what had happened. The young man didn’t deserve it. He had no military experience to speak of, but he had to ward off what appeared to be the biggest threat the Persian Empire had ever faced since the time of its founder Cyrus the Great. And it had taken him completely by surprise. Although, Orxines thought with disdain, the endless flattering of those court-soldiers had probably made it worse. Even though he was a veteran, he had never seen anything as threatening as the Phalanx: several ranks of men with spears many times the length of a man. You had to pass five spearheads before you even reached the first rank. They could fight you, while you couldn’t fight back
“My Lord, the camp is not safe. We will ride on till the next post house, rest there, and start to ride as soon as the sun rises.”
“But my tent, my courtesans We must go back to the camp” shouted the Great King.
This was a point the Immortal had wished to avoid. The camp was probably being plundered at this very moment. But saying that to someone who obviously didn’t grasp the full catastrophe that had taken place in mere hours, was not a good idea. The Great King could insist upon going back, even though that would certainly get them killed. However, since he was the Great King, Orxines had to obey. On the other hand, telling the Great King that everything would be all right, when it obviously was not, was a lie, even though the King might accept it at this moment. The Great King would discover the lie, if not now then next morning. And Great Kings were not very accepting of lies. Persians should never lie, and the Kings of Persia always came down hard upon someone who lied to them. Often in a very cruel way. Persians were a cruel people. Ever since the Great King Xerxes, the Royal Family had a reputation to keep up. The young King did not seem as bad as his father, but still...
“The eunuchs will probably have started evacuating when they noticed the battle was going wrong. There is nothing we can do, Sire, nothing.” This was a good answer. It contained the suggestion that everything will be all right, without actually stating it. At the same time, it was persuading the Great King not to return. It had one flaw, because it actually stated that the Great King had lost a battle, but since this was stating the obvious, and given the King’s current state of mind, Orxines hoped this would pass unnoticed.
Arses did not answer, but just rode on, letting his bodyguard lead him. He returned to the turmoil that was now his mind. In his head the battle raged again. On and on.
Finally, mentally exhausted, Arses arrived at the post house. It was pitch dark already, and only the typical torches which are placed at every post house in the Persian Empire allowed them to recognize it. Orxines, who had taken up the lead now that the King seemed far away, bullied the postmaster into giving the King a room and a meal and nothing more. It took a bit more effort to keep the postmaster from running off into the night, fleeing for the Greek invaders, but that was nothing a veteran could not deal with. The only problem was the King’s state of mind. The Immortals could not hide that the King did not seem to understand what was happening. The postmaster saw it too, and needed to be threatened in order to prevent the rumour from spreading. Even then, it was a question whether it would have effect.

Arses didn’t care how he looked, or whatever other people thought about him. It didn’t matter. They would soon be dead, and the Persian Empire would fall.
With great perseverance, Orxines could persuade him to eat something. One of the Immortals pulled out a sack with herbs, which would allow a quick and undisturbed night rest, always a useful thing after a battle. They were added to the Kings wine, in front of his eyes, but the King didn’t notice it. He just ate some meat and drank some wine, and then collapsed on the floor.

The Immortals took turns at guard duty. Although protocol forbade them to stand guard in the King’s room, given the nature of the situation, Orxines judged it best to set aside protocol. While guarding, Orxines saw groups of refugees pass, mostly cavalry, but also groups of light infantry. At one point he saw a group of Greek cavalry speed past the post house. For one moment, Orxines feared he saw the Greek Leader, who was rumoured to be invincible in battle. Orxines had seen him fight, and had seen Persian Champions fall before him, so even though he was a veteran, he did not discard the rumour. But it was difficult to see whether the first horseman was the feared Alexander of Macedon, because there was little light, and they all looked alike to Orxines. Luckily, the postmaster, who was a coward but not a fool, had doused the torches, so the Greeks wouldn’t see the building. And even if they saw it, they would probably think of it as another large farm.

The Greek leader, a young man named Alexander, had taken over the mountain kingdom of Macedon when his father, Philip II of Macedon, was murdered. Philip had been a true soldier. After he forced all the rebellious Greece cities to submit to him, he wanted to keep them glued together with a crusade to “liberate” the Greeks in Asia Minor. The fact that those Greeks enjoyed a great deal of freedom under the Persian King didn’t matter. But before this policy could be put to work, he had been murdered by a member of his own bodyguard. Typical of those barbarians, Orxines thought, his own Bodyguard Whether the murderer was sent by the Persians or one of Philip’s many Greek opponents was still unknown. Some even rumoured that the murderer had been inspired by Philip’s own wife The Great King, though having grown up in the Persian Court, seemed to prefer straightforward confrontation to the usage of spies and intrigues, so it was unlikely he had sent the murderer. On the other hand, it might have been done by one of the Satraps in Asia Minor, whose task it was to ensure that none of the Greek factions grew so powerful that they could threaten the Persian Empire. And threaten was exactly what Philip had done. After Philip’s death, the trouble would seem to be over, since his whole alliance would fall to pieces.

Not so.
His son proved to be even worse. In very little time, he had crushed all opposition inside and outside of Macedon, and reformed the alliance. Then he had landed his army in Asia Minor. The Satraps and Greek mercenaries, who were supposed to stop him, had lost a battle at the river Granikos. From what the Immortal had understood, this was because they had relied on Persian light cavalry to hold the riverbank. This mistake was so obvious that even the inexperienced King had seen it. After this, Arses had gathered troops from all over Persia to force these barbarians back. This took a long while, but the Greek invaders had been bogged down by the city-defences general Memnon, a Greek mercenary, had prepared for them. “Use a Greek to stop a Greek”, the King had said, smiling. But Memnon died of fever, and Alexander had marched on, to Issos. There the army of the Great King lay waiting for him.

Despite his inexperience, the young King had not repeated the mistake of his Satraps: to leave his best troops a task for which they were unsuited. The bulk of the Persian army consisted of peasant levies together with a few units of professional infantry soldiers. Their task had been to stop the advance of the Macedonian heavy infantry, the phalanx. The Persian cavalry, armed with javelins, was to attack their flanks and disrupt their formation, so that that the peasants could kill them. Another cavalry contingent had been held in reserve to deal with the Greek cavalry. It was a good plan, however, it had two major flaws. The first one nobody could have thought of: the peasants, even with the support of the professional troops, could not stop the phalanx. You had to see the phalanx in action, before you understood how dangerous it was. The peasants had almost routed when the phalanx lowered their spears, before the fighting even started
The second flaw arose from the inexperience of the Great King: the plan had not taken into account the reaction of his opponent. On top of that the Great King seemed to have relied too much on his ability to command troops during the engagement. But that is impossible. Even Alexander couldn’t do that.
Probably couldn’t, added Orxines in his mind.

Alexander had seen the light cavalry on the flanks and had sent his cavalry to split the Persian cavalry from their infantry. At the same time, the phalanx had engaged the peasants and started a massacre. A massacre. There was no other word for it. The Persians had tried to rescue their plan by committing their reserves to destroy Alexander’s cavalry. But the light Persian cavalry was outclassed by the Greek Companion cavalry. The peasants had routed quickly and the phalanx had turned its attention to the cavalry melee on both flanks. The Persians had been caught between the companion cavalry and the phalanx and had been broken. The Satrap Spithridates had tried to kill the Macedonian king, but was cut down by another Macedonian tribesman. And Alexander had manoeuvred his horse out of the melee, assembled a few companions and charged right at the Great King. The Great King panicked, turned his horse and fled. Half the Immortals followed him, but the other half charged the Macedonian king. It had been futile since the cavalry melee had been ended and more Greeks were swarming in the direction of their king. One of the Persian soldiers, a Mede probably, had shouted: the King has fled. In truth, at the point the King had fled, the battle was already lost, while the remaining troops who could not run away were fighting a hopeless fight for their lives.

The King has fled.

Orxines was awakened by one of the other Immortals just before dawn. He went into the King’s room and wanted to wake the King, but suddenly the King awoke with a scream. Arses looked around wildly, trying to get his bearings. Orxines looked reproachfully at the Immortal who gave the herbs. The King definitely had not had an undisturbed night. But at least he seemed to be more able to grasp the situation then yesterday.

Arses ate the breakfast his guard had made for him. Apparently the postmaster had ran off in the night. The Immortals made soldiers’ bread for them. It tasted awful, but Arses decided not to comment. The turmoil in his mind was less then it had been. He was asking himself the same question over and over again: what did I do wrong? How could I have been defeated? He asked this question countless time while they were riding back to Babylon. Arses would have preferred Persepolis, the true capitol of Persia, to the Babylon, but Babylon was closer. Still, it would take at least two weeks to get there. The Immortals didn’t fear the Greek scouts. Persian horses are famous, nothing like the Greek ponies, and the King and his guards had the best. No Greek horse could hope to keep up with them.

[Ludens]

Questions tumbled through Arses mind:
What did I do wrong? How could I have been defeated? No answer
What should I have done? No answer either
How could I have been defeated? What could defeat the Persian Empire?
What should I have done? Still no answers

How could I have been defeated? What defeated the Persian army? What made it collapse like a castle built of sand?
The phalanx. The phalanx just rolled over it.

What should I have done? WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE? I couldn’t do anything The phalanx just rolled over I couldn’t stop it No one could have stopped it
The Great King can do anything
But I couldn’t
This should not be happening
But it happened
It shouldn’t
It did
The Great King is invincible
Just like the phalanx

Just like the phalanx

They are invincible, not the Great King
But they are just men
So am I
I am the descendant of Cyrus the Great
Who was a man

Just like them

Just as vulnerable as them

I can kill them

How?

That is for me to find out


“What went wrong?”
“My Lord?” answered Orxines.
“What went wrong? With the battle?”
This was a gross violation of protocol, but since the protocol seemed to have crumbled like the Persian army at Issos, Orxines answered: “The peasants couldn’t stop the phalanx. Nothing could stop it.”
“So, we would have won if we could have stopped the phalanx?”
“And defeated their cavalry. Our own cavalry was too lightly equipped to do that.”
“So if we have heavier cavalry and could stop the phalanx, we can win?”
“I think so, my Lord, but I am only a humble soldier.”
“You are a veteran.” That sounded good. The King was definitely getting in touch with reality again.
“But I have never fought an army like that. I’ve never fought an army superior to the Persian army.” Oi, he had stated the inferiority of the Persians. That was a capital offence. The King noticed it, but did not mention it.
“I need to assemble a new army. How fast can I do it?”
“My Lord, at the next post house we can send an arrow messenger to your grand vizier. The message will be there in a week. He can then start assembling the army. That will take several months.” The King had obviously started to think like a King again.

After asking the question “What should I have done?” to himself for the entire morning, Arses at one point started asking: “What can I do?”. He could assemble a new army, reequip his cavalry, drill the peasants so they wouldn’t flee as fast next time. He had to find new tactics and new weapons. He would form his own phalanx. He would hire mercenaries, Greeks preferably. He would reorganize the army.

At the next post house, the arrow messenger there was sent with a message to the grand vizier: to assemble a new army for the Great King, at Persepolis, because Babylon was too close to Alexander to provide enough time for an army to be assembled.
That night, Arses slept better, although he awoke again with the sight of the phalanx approaching. Riding all next day, Arses kept probing for new ideas. At the next post house, Arses stayed awake in order to write a long message with detailed orders for the Grand Vizier. He did not sleep, for fear of the dreams, but slumbered in front of the fire. The rest of the journey continued in the same way: during the day Arses thought up plans, at night he slumbered. The slumber did not help against the dreams, but Arses could not sleep anymore. Not even with the herbs one of the Immortals had given him when he mentioned it. His dreams kept waking him up. At least the slumber made the dreams seem less worse, less real. The dream of the Phalanx advancing returned often, but was slowly being replaced with a dream in which all things he valued were burned while he was watching, paralysed.
But as despairing as he was at night, as resolved he was during day. The war was not over. Alexander had not yet won. Persia would resist. The Great King would resist. With all his power. To that he swore an oath.

Alexander,
You have not finished with Persia yet

[Ludens]

Part II coming soon


Ludens

[Ashen]

Im still waiting, this is good stuff ^^

[Ludens]

Thank you for your compliment.

It is not good form to ask for apologies from your readers, but I still have to do it.
When I wrote coming soon, I thought I would have part 2 posted by now. But a short holiday, more work than I had expected and especially the fact that the great surge of inspiration, that flowed through me when I wrote the first part, seemed to have dried up as soon as I posted it, paralyzed my writing ambitions.

Furtermore the second part is the middle-piece and therefor less exciting then part one. It will require a lot of work to get even near the standard of the first part. The second part will connect the defeat at Issos to the battle of Gaza (historically it was Gaugamela but Arses doesn't want to be a coward so he'll be more agressive then Darius III).

I just need to rest a few days to store up ideas about what is going to happen. Then I'm going to write it down. I think I will have finished it by next wednesday or thursday.

It is a though job . Fortunately, no one has to do it .

[Ludens]

The second part of the story is now done. However, it's size grew totaly out of control, so I have splitted it into two parts: 2 and 3. The Battle of Gaza will be part 4.

I have thought about adding a list of characters, but I think it's unnecesary. Just remember the difference between Orxines, the Immortal, and Oxathres, the King's brother.


I dedicate this story to Lady Frogbeastegg

Happy birthday Froggy

[Ludens]

Part II
The Court at Persepolis

The Grand Vizier Aspamitres sat down at his writing table and tried to think. The Great King Arses would arrive in a few days and a speech must be prepared to soothe him. At least it would be easier to soothe this young man then it was to soothe his father. The late Artaxerxes Ochus did not tolerate mistakes. Combined with Ochus’ bloodthirstiness this made the Persian Court a dangerous place to live. However, the courtiers were used to this kind of thing. Intrigue was a way of life at the Persian Court. The eunuch Aspamitres owed his position to intrigue.

Aspamitres bent over his table and began to write. The defeat was not that bad. A new army was being assembled and the Great King would lead this to victory over the cowardly Greek. The defeat was the result of wrong advise by some of His Majesties commanders. They would be duly punished. Aspamitres had already made up a list of those army leaders and the favours he owed to them. Some of them had not sent him a bribe. Aspamitres smiled. They would be the first to be mentioned when the Great King asked who was responsible for the present situation. Aspamitres wrote on. A swift punishment would also remind the ungrateful Egyptian rebels that the Great King’s power and...
Aspamitres looked up and threw down his stylus when another eunuch came storming in. “Your Excellency” the eunuch panted, “The Great King has arrived”
“What, today?” Surprised, Aspamitres pulled himself together. Act like a Grand Vizier, he thought. “Prepare for the welcoming ceremony. Let all senior court members come to the Great Hall to witness the Great King’s entrance.”
“Your Excellency, the Great King is already in the throne room”
“Has the ceremony already been started?”
“No, Your Excellency, he... The Great King just went in and ordered a servant to summon everyone.” This was not according to protocol, and protocol was the most important thing at the Persian Court, more important than the law. “Get the senior courtiers to the Great Hall.” He ordered, before walking off.
Trying to get his speech sorted out, he moved to the Great Hall. He was actually one of the last to arrive. The Hall was full of nervous-looking eunuchs. The Court nobles, who were less dependent on the Great King for their position, seemed less disturbed. On the Lion Throne, the Great King Arses sat, in full armour. Aspamitres looked around and realized everyone was waiting for him to open the ceremony. He stepped forward, cleared his throat and started the traditional opening of the welcoming ceremony. “Welcome, Lord of all the Lands. We are...”
“Yes, I know that.” interrupted the Great King. “Have you carried out my orders?”
“My lord? Eh, I...”
“Have you started to assemble a new army?” Arses was angry. He had come to Persepolis and expected to start executing his plans immediately. However, there was no army and he had forgotten how slow the court was. In his anger, he had gone to the throne room, without waiting for the courtiers to arrive. He wasn’t going to be stopped by those eunuchs.
“Eh, yes, My Lord, I...” Aspamitres felt entirely out of control. For more than a century, everything in the court had proceeded according to protocol. Arses, however, had other things on his mind and Aspamitres suddenly found it difficult to adapt to this new situation.
“Have you made up the list of army leaders I requested?”
“List... Yes, the list is prepared, yes.”
“Bring it to me.”
“At once, My Lord”
Aspamitres looked around and sent a younger eunuch to fetch it. As the most senior eunuch, he had to stay in the room. Luckily for him, the King gave him some respite. Arses looked around the room and questioned several other eunuchs about the day-to-day running of the court. The questions were short, snappish. The Great King was obviously in a bad mood. No one knew how to deal with this. Arses had never been like this before. His father, now, that was another matter. Several of the eunuchs had a déja-vu to the reign of the Great King Ochus. Even the Court nobles were looking ill at ease now.
After what seemed like a long time, the young eunuch returned and handed the list to Aspamitres. Aspamitres stepped up the dais and handed the parchment to Arses. Arses read it. For a few minutes, nothing was heard. Finally, the Great King looked up. “This list is not complete”.
“My Lord?”
“I requested a list of all officers with a short description of their successes in battle. According to this list, nobody led the army during the punishment-expedition my father sent against the Scythians. Also, none of the minor officers of the Artabazos Clan are included. I would expect that they would have the most experience, especially with the way of warfare of these Greek barbarians.”
Arses had reason to expect a certain bias on the part of the eunuchs. They had nothing to do at the court and therefore whiled away their time with petty intrigues. Over the centuries, these intrigues had evolved into a deadly game. Past favours and grudges influenced everything at the court. Therefore, Arses had carefully checked the list in front of everyone, to show that the Great King could not easily be fooled. But this list was faulty beyond what he imagined to be possible.
“My Lord,” Aspamitres managed to say. Then his court-instinct jumped in. “Thousand apologies, but we have had very little time and...”
“You have had two weeks to complete a simple task and yet you manage to screw that up too? You are just as incompetent as my generals are No wonder we were defeated.”
This ultimate violation of protocol caused a great stir. One of the elderly eunuchs actually fainted The Great King had been rude and had stated that he had been defeated
Aspamitres was at loss for words. He hadn’t included the Scythian expedition because it had been a defeat. It had been quietly erased from court-journals. The Artabazos Clan was very honourable and would have nothing to do with Aspamitres. Aspamitres wanted to get back at them by not including their leaders in the Great King’s new army. It had not occurred to him that the Great King would check his work. “I...”
“You will make a complete list and hand it to me before noon tomorrow. You will start with it directly.” Arses wanted to make it clear that he would not tolerate this kind of harem intriguing.
“Yes, My Lord, may I go now?” Aspamitres, despite his resolution to act like a Grand Vizier, was in a panic. He wanted to get away as quickly as possible, to the safety of his room.
“No. How long will it take for the army to be assembled?”
Aspamitres looked around. He could not remember it. One of the court nobles came forward and answered the question for him. “My Lord, the regiments in the neighbourhood of Persepolis can be here in a few days. Those from distant parts of the empire could take up to two months.”
“Are food and lodgings prepared for them?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
The Great King was silent for a moment and then said, “This meeting is dismissed. I wanted to call a war council, but since there is no list of officers, that will have to wait. I expect the chief treasurer in my room after I have dressed.” With that, he stood up, and left the Great Hall.

When the treasurer had arrived, Arses suddenly felt very tired. The strength that had driven him at a murderous speed back to his capital city had suddenly disappeared when there was nothing to do. And together with his strength, his energy had vanished and he felt the effect of all those sleepless nights. Perhaps he would be able to sleep now. After dismissing the treasurer with orders to coin one tenth of the huge gold reserves in Persepolis, Arses retired. He hardly noticed how his servants disrobed him. He just fell into his bed and slept within a minute.

Aspamitres almost ran back to his room. He had a distinct feeling that this was just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. During the failed welcoming ceremony, he had felt as if it was the old King Ochus who sat on the throne. Ochus had been just as short tempered as his son now turned out to be. Now he realized he had been wrong. This was worse than under Ochus’ reign. In his time, you could at least hide behind protocol. But the young King suddenly didn’t care about protocol and Aspamitres didn’t know what to do. What happened to the young man? It hadn’t been like this when Arses had appointed him Grand Vizier. Then everything happened according to tradition and protocol and Aspamitres could plan his intrigues in peace.
Aspamitres realized that his power was nothing compared to his predecessor Bagoas. The eunuch Bagoas had been the supreme power at the Persian Court for over a dozen years. His decisions were more important than those of the Great King Artaxerxes the Third, Artaxerxes Ochus. He had skilfully directed the Great King’s attention to an endless list of would-be traitors. Ochus had been too busy fighting these dissidents to do something about the fact that Bagoas ruled the court. Eventually, the Great King tried to do something about Bagoas’ power. However, before this could be put into effect, the Great King died. By poisoning.
The old King was succeeded by his son, the Great King Arses. Arses tried to finish what his father had started: trim down Bagoas. Within a month, Arses’ youngest brother was killed. By poisoning. The Great King’s other brother, Oxathres, escaped because he was away hunting. It had looked as if the young King would soon follow his father’s fate.
That was not to be. During a meeting of the Great King with Bagoas, the Great King’s cupbearer brought them their wine. The Great King praised the glory of the Wise Lord, as was his custom when he drank, and raised the cup to his lips.
And lowered it again without having drunk the wine. “Bagoas” he had said, “You do not drink your wine.”
“Thousand apologies, My Lord, but I feel unwell. And I seldom drink wine.”
“If you feel unwell, then drink your wine. Helbon wine is the best medicine against all kind of ailments. You said so yourself to my late brother.”
Bagoas, not knowing what to do because of this reference to the King’s brother, brought the cup to his lips.
“Drink it all, Grand Vizier” the Great King had said. Suddenly his voice had a threatening tone. According to the cupbearer, it suddenly sounded like the way Artaxerxes Ochus used to talk. Bagoas had had no choice but to drink the wine. He then stood up and would have left the room, but the guards blocked the door. Bagoas turned to the Great King, who sat there, staring at him. The King smiled.
The Great King sat in his chair for a quarter of an hour, watching the effect of the poison. The expression on his face didn’t change. After Bagoas had died, the Great King had proceeded to Bagoas’ room, and there he found forged evidence that Oxathres, the King’s brother, had planned this assassination attempt on the King. He also found several recipes for poisons and a bottle of antidote.
In return for several favours, mainly to the Great King’s wife, Aspamitres had become Grand Vizier. He knew that his position was far less safe then Bagoas’ was, but the position had one major advantage: the Grand Vizier actually controlled the court and could thereby achieve much. As long as he made sure everyone got some, but not all, of what they wanted, and he kept ahead of the never-ending intrigues, Aspamitres position was certain. Or so it had seemed. But now the Great King had changed. He expected the Grand Vizier to do chores This would cost Aspamitres a lot of respect.
Unless he could do something. Suddenly, Aspamitres saw a solution. He would do the same as Bagoas: distract the Great King with enemies. Smiling, Aspamitres set to work on the list of officers, and on his new intrigue.

[Ludens]

The sky was pitch black, but turning red at the horizon. An otherwise empty field was littered with bodies. Someone was yelling, but Arses couldn’t hear the words above the cries of the fallen. The wounded and the dying, and even the dead bodies were screaming at him. Arses couldn’t make out any words, but perhaps they were just screaming. In the distance, a few Persian horsemen tried to charge, but met with a wall of steel. The phalanx. They were all impaled on the pikes, their bodies twitching as the phalanx advanced. Arses tried to order a counter attack, but he could not say a word. He tried again. This time he mumbled something even he himself could not understand. And there was no one to hear it. He was alone, under the dark sky. In the distance, the phalanx just walked on in silence. The darkness became deeper. Suddenly he could understand the yell. It was the same voice he had heard when fleeing at Issos. The words were different. The voice yelled “Coward” Arses screamed and found that suddenly he had control of his muscles again. He looked around wildly. Doors flew open and his bodyguard, the Immortals, stormed in. Arses blinked and tried to get his bearings. The guards lowered their weapons. Orxines had told them that the King did not sleep well, and was plagued by bad dreams. “My Lord” the head guard said, “it was just a dream.” Arses sat up and tried to check his breathing.
“My Lord, it is very early. The sun is just rising over the horizon. You should try to sleep some more.” Arses took a while to absorb this.
“No. No more sleep. I must work.” He said in a far-off voice.
The Immortals looked at each other. The Great King did not work, his loyal servants did that for him. However, you do not disagree with the King. So the guards were silent.
Arses stood up. “Dress me”, he said.
“Shall I send for the servants?” The head guard asked.
Arses sighed, and started to dress himself. The Guards turned their backs to allow him privacy. When he was dressed, Arses moved to the courtyard.

Aspamitres was running through the palace. Again The Grand Vizier should not run But where is the Great King? He wasn’t in his bedroom and neither were his guards The entire waking ceremony had been for nothing This could not continue Something had to be done The young King was upsetting every ritual, ignoring all protocol Aspamitres’ original plan would not suffice. Perhaps he should use Bagoas’ other tactic. Oxathres would certainly make a much more compliant King. Perhaps he should do Oxathres several favours. It certainly wouldn’t do any harm, even if regicide proved to be unnecessary.
At last Aspamitres found the King in the palace garden. Arses was throwing javelins at a target. He had been there several hours, judging by the number of javelins lying around. A guard had moved next to him and laid his arm on the young man’s shoulder. Filled with rage, Aspamitres held his breath. That kind of intimacy was to be punished with death But the Great King didn’t react. The guard, whose name, Aspamitres recalled, was Orxines, said “My Lord, if you try too hard, you fail. Perhaps you should stop now and continue tomorrow.” The other Immortals nodded in agreement.
“You are right. Send for the best sword master” Arses answered in a far-off voice.
Orxines wanted to protest, but Aspamitres cut him off “My Lord. Perhaps you should rest and attend to some urgent matters of the Empire.”
Arses turned around and faced the eunuch. “Have you completed the list of officers?”
Aspamitres gasped “My Lord,” he stuttered “You have given me until noon to complete that list”.
Arses’ voice didn’t sound far off anymore. He looked directly at his Grand Vizier. “Then I shall train till noon.”
He turned around and said. “I want a weapons rack installed over here before tomorrow morning. It should contain javelins, spears, swords and bows. And arrows. Now, have someone take away the javelins and the targets and fetch the sword master.” With a small hand movement, Arses dismissed Aspamitres.
Aspamitres went off in a rage. The King treated him like some unimportant servant There was no other option. Arses had to die. The Great King must die.
The King watched him go. He didn’t care what the eunuch thought. He hardly cared what anyone thought of him. The dream had made all the terror come back. Arses would not, no, could not rest until Persia was safe. Fortunately, with the terror his energy had also returned. Whatever the cost, Alexander had to be stopped. The phalanx must be stopped.

[Ludens]

Part III
Preparing for War

Shortly after noon, Arses held a war council. He appointed Narbazanes to cavalry commander and ordered him to reequip the cavalry with heavier weapons and armour. Narbazanes also had to set up an intelligence network. The man had already proven his worth when he was stationed in Sardes, near Greece. He could also provide a wealth of information on Alexander. Such as that Alexander thought himself to be the son of the Greek king of the gods. This made him fearless and very eager for glory. It was also the reason for his religious fanaticism, in the sense that he spared temples and asked for proof of his own descent from Zeus in every temple, even non-Greek temples He certainly could not resist the temptation of having his special status confirmed by the most ancient priesthood in the world: the Egyptian priests. So Alexander was making his way down the east coast of the Middle Sea to Egypt, giving Arses more time for preparations.
Another source of information was the old and honourable Artabazos. Artabazos had lived in exile during Ochus’ reign, but had returned to affirm his loyalty to Ochus’ son. Artabazos had spent several years in the Macedonian court and knew Alexander personally. He confirmed everything Narbazanes said. Artabazos, despite his age, was put in charge of the Greek mercenary hoplites now being gathered.
Arses’ advisors were against the plan of forming a Persian phalanx. The men who fight in a phalanx, they reasoned, must be either very courageous or completely mad. It was clear in which of the two categories the Greek fell. Only True Persians were courageous enough to stand in a phalanx, but True Persians fought on horseback. The Great King agreed to this and then ordered Artabazos to recruit Greek mercenaries. The mercenary hoplites were not equal to the Macedonian phalanx, but at least they could present a similar threat. They could also be used to have the troops get accustomed to the sight of a phalanx, so they would not panic in the battle, when the phalanx lowered their spears.

During the next days more news arrived through the arrow messengers. Alexander had laid siege to Tyr. The reason for this seamed to be his religious zeal. He wanted to visit the shrine to Melkaart, or Heracles as he called him. The siege could take months. This gave the Persians more time. Greek mercenaries, and there were enough Greeks willing to fight against Alexander, could be smuggled in through Gaza.
When the first troops arrived, Arses started drilling them. He put them through a rigorous training, meant not to increase their skill with weapons, but their discipline. He was equally hard on himself, spending every morning and evening training in the use of weapons. It took Orxines nearly two weeks before he finally could convince the Great King to give up archery. A failure just made the King more determined, but somehow he lacked the skill. Yet his skill with the javelin was superb. After a week, Arses started to train on horseback, on a horse galloping and finally against moving targets pulled by slaves. He was less adept with spears or swords, but his zeal and determination made up for that. He trained in the morning after waking up early. Despite everything the healers tried, the King couldn’t sleep without awakening to nightmares. A new dream had appeared in which Arses was lectured by Cyrus the Great, the founder of the Persian Empire. Later, Arses realized that the Cyrus in his dreams was actually Cyrus’ son Cambyses the Great, who was on wall paintings all over the palace. You could live there your entire live without actually realizing they were there. No image of Cyrus was anywhere to be seen, so his dream Cyrus had taken the form of Cambyses. After the first dream of this kind, Arses spent time looking up the history of Persia. He was especially interested in Cyrus the Great, his reign and his tactics. Arses discovered that the Persian Empire had come to a standstill in the reign of Xerxes the Great. For example, Xerxes had ended the Persian educational system, which had ensured Persian nobles to be superior leaders.
Arses wanted Persia to return to its former glory, or to die in the attempt. Everything the weakling Xerxes had done had led to Persia’s decline and should therefore be undone. This Arses promised himself.

A week later, Oxathres, the King’s brother, returned to the Court. Arses first scolded him for being absent during such a dangerous time and then welcomed him heartily. Arses trusted him, despite Bagoas’ forged evidence. Nobody could believe Oxathres plotted against his brother. Oxathres was only interested in hunting and girls. When Bagoas forged that evidence, he must have grown overconfident. Oxathres was pleased to see his brother, but also amazed. What had happened with the Great King? His usual cheerfulness had disappeared. Instead, there was a fever in those eyes, a glow that suggested... What?
Madness perhaps, but also terrible determination.

During the next week, an assassination attempt was made on the Great King. The Grand Vizier Aspamitres had tried to poison the Great King’s meal, but this was revealed when the Great King asked him to taste it. Why Aspamitres had done so was not made known. Aspamitres was stripped off his rank and he was executed.
This started a series of intrigues and assassination attempts. However, Arses didn’t sit still either. He had to stop all intriguing, else Persia would fall prey to Alexander. He took a series of measures against these assassination attempts, ranging from the use of food tasters to severe punishments for the perpetrators and their allies. It was cruel, but it justified by the dangers threatening Persia. If Arses couldn’t stop Alexander, Persia would fall.
Nearly a hundred eunuchs were executed over the course of three weeks. It proved to be effective. The intrigues, once the daily work of the eunuchs, now came to a sudden standstill while the Court held its breath out of fear for the King’s violence.
Oxathres tried reasoning with the Great King. He, too, was scared by this reign of terror. It was so unlike the man he had known as his brother. But the King just looked at him and said “You have not seen what I have seen. You have not seen the enemy.” Oxathres knew not how to deal with this. He had always known his brother as a cheerful young man, even when he became Great King. But Arses cheerfulness had gone. Instead, he was driven endlessly by a demon making him work for one goal, and forcing others to do the same.
He was obsessed. Obsessed with defeating Alexander. Everything else was unimportant. Even the lives of his eunuchs, who had made things worse by their assassination attempts. Arses ate less and hardly slept. He went to bed late, slept a few hours, awoke by whatever demons were hounding him at night. Then he began the day with exercising, drilling the army, listening to reports about the progress of his plans and Alexander’s situation and occasionally reading about the history of Persia. According to the eunuch who undressed him at night, he had lost so much weight one could count his ribs. Through lack of sleep, it looked as if he was staring at something in the distance. The eunuchs didn’t know how to deal with this. The Court knew how to deal with violent kings, bloodthirsty kings, even mad kings, but they never had seen a King who was so focussed, so obsessed. They didn’t know what to do. They were afraid. All assassination attempts stopped.

After two months, the last regiments of the Great King’s army finally arrived. The Great King ordered the army to move to Babylon, as to be closer to the coming action. His generals were amazed at the speed at which the army moved. The army went twice as fast as the original army that had been sent to Issos. The march started before dawn and went on to shortly before sunset. Then camp was made. Only at noon, there was a break. The army was driven by Arses’ zeal. The discipline he had instilled and the marching techniques he had taken over from the Greek mercenaries made this fast pace possible. The soldiers grumbled, but not much. Even they had heard the rumours that circled at the court. The Great King was obsessed.
At Babylon, the training and drilling of the soldiers had started again. The army changed from a formless mass into a disciplined structure, ready to obey any command instantaneously. Whether it were Persian, Medes, Sogdianes, Bactrians or Indians soldiers, the Great King bent them to one purpose, one goal: the destruction of Alexander the Great.
At all costs.

Then, dire news came. Tyr had fallen. Alexander was moving south, towards Gaza and Egypt. The rebellious Egyptians would welcome him warmly and open their gates for him. Spies reported he wanted to visit the oracle at Siwah in the desert.
All the trumpets at Babylon sounded. The Great King was marching to battle.

[Ludens]

Part IV coming, eh, soon?

[Aymar de Bois Mauri]

Awesome, Ludens Awesome

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Ludens @ Jan. 06 2004,18:55)]I dedicate this story to Lady Frogbeastegg

Happy birthday Froggy

Two days later and still trying to think of something to say. Thank you for the dedication The story itself is :robs smiley bank: , awaiting part IV.

Two comments in one day, I shall strain something

[The Wizard]

I really like this. It does not concentrate so much upon battle, strife and description of it as it does upon the personal struggle of a young, troubled king and how he drags all those around him into the void of his obsession.
Put that on the back of the cover when it gets published.

Beautiful

[Omar Mena]

Part IV any time soon? This is probably the best story In have read in a long time.

[Ludens]

Part IV
The Battle

The last light of the dying sun fell on the well-ordered Persian camp. It fell on the rich and imposing Persian tents, on the neat Greek tents set up in a separate section, on the rough Bactrian rugs and on the crude shelters built for the Persian peasant levies. It also fell on the large, hastily constructed tent of the Great King, since the Great King had specifically forbidden his loyal servants to bring a campaign tent as used by Xerxes the Great. And the dying light fell on the silhouette of Orxines the Immortal as he strode through the camp. He wasn’t on guard duty, so he made a stroll through the encampment, to loosen his aching muscles. Today, at least, he felt better than yesterday, when a severe muscle ache had almost crippled him. The high speed at which the Persian army had travelled for the last few days had made every soldier feel sore, be he peasant or noble, Persian cavalryman or mercenary Greek foot soldier. Most of the new recruits were actually glad when they started travelling. It couldn’t be worse than those endless drills, they had said. Those recruits were now silent or were hoping there would soon be a battle. It couldn’t be worse than that endless marching, they said. Orxines smiled sourly. They were in for a surprise. The Great King had ordered two days rest, to ensure everyone was fit for battle. When the battle would be, was every ones guess. Orxines himself hadn’t been present at the conferences between the Great King and his generals, but some of the other Immortals had been and they told him that the Greek invaders apparently were taken by surprise by the speed at which the Persian army had moved. But probably not as surprised as the Persians themselves were, Orxines added in his mind. The Greeks were now trapped in Egypt. Alexander, being no coward, would attack. But where was Alexander? And, come to think of it, where were the Persians? Somewhere within a hundred miles of Gaza, but not so close as to attract the usual crowd of merchants and prostitutes.
Orxines turned and walked back to the Great King’s tent. On his approach, several of the new Immortals straitened their back. The Great King had recruited many soldiers who had shown superior skills during their training into the royal bodyguard, the Immortals. Nobody knew what he wanted to do with almost five thousand new Immortals, in addition to the ten thousand he already had. They were supposed to lead the army, or some such thing. Doubtlessly, it would all be made clear. These men had been put through an even heavier training than their comrades. If they survived the coming battle, they would be accepted into the Great King’s Court. This gave them a very personal stake in the outcome, and therefore their morale was high. Before entering the tent, Orxines turned and looked over the plains. No sign of any Greek army. Where were they? And from which direction would they attack?

Arses looked at the map. He had looked at it hundreds of times, he new every detail by heart, but he still looked at it, trying to see things he might have overlooked. If he had made a mistake, the battle could be lost before it even started. In his mind, he went over the events again. Alexander, after being hailed as Pharaoh of Egypt, had went to visit the Oracle at Siwah. Typical of the man. He wanted to hear everywhere that he was a demigod. Either he didn’t know that the Persian army was on the move, or had judged it irrelevant. But the enormous speed at which they had moved, and a lucky timing, had allowed them to trap the Greeks while their leader was absent. However, the aggressive Alexander of Macedon would not sit still, waiting for the inevitable. He would attack. So, now the Greeks could not escape him any more, Arses waited. Alexander would come for him. He would rest his soldiers, to be prepared for the battle. The location of the Persian camp was well hidden from anyone; even the soldiers didn’t know where they were. Only the Scythian scouts knew. The camp was within half a day marching from Gaza, but Arses didn’t want this to be known to the Greeks. But how much did Alexander know? And how much could he guess?
And where was Alexander? The last reports about the location of his army were already a few days old. Apparently, he was following a less direct route. Arses’ generals had already sent scouts to search the south part of the Sinai, where Alexander had probably moved his army.
Arses was impatient and nervous. He knew what the stakes of the battle were. The others might not realize this, but if they lost, then this would be the last battle of Persia. They might think of it as just another battle, but there would be no third battle. If Arses lost, Persia had failed, and should die. Therefore, Arses was impatient for battle, to get it over with. But what if he failed? “Why do I have to correct the faults of my forebears?” Arses thought angrily “This wouldn’t have happened if Persia had stayed strong. This wouldn’t have happened if Xerxes hadn’t corrupted us.” He had thought that a hundred times since he left Persepolis. It didn’t help. It was up to him to ensure Persia to be strong again. If he failed, Persia was weak, and had to die and he would die with it. So he must not fail. Whatever the price, he must not fail.

The second day of the marching break passed much like the first. The soldiers were relaxing, wasting their money with gambling, polishing up their weapons, boasting about their prowess and speculating about what would happen. Some of the Greeks were even discussing whether the battle would be won or lost. The only busy place in the camp, apart from the latrines, was the Great King’s tent. Officers kept coming and going, apparently receiving instructions. However, soldiers trying to pry information from their leaders were disappointed. The officers had sworn an oath not to betray their instructions and they didn’t know much anyway. Only what they were supposed to do on the day of the battle. Whenever that would be.

On the third day, the soldiers awoke expecting another long, dreadful march. But no, no trumpets were sounded, no orders were given. The King’s tent, yesterday as busy as a beehive, now stood deserted in the middle of the camp. The Great King wasn’t there. He had gone hunting, it was being said. Some of the Persians raised their eyebrows when they heard that, for there was nothing to hunt here. At least, nothing that was worthy or dangerous enough to entice a Persian to hunt.

The fourth day started just like the third. The soldiers who had laid bets that they would start marching today, seemed to have lost their bet. But they insisted that today would be the day to march. Perhaps the march would start later on. Their grinning comrades, already assured of their own good luck, agreed to wait.
At noon, every one had settled down to the idea of another day rest. But no, shortly after noon, the trumpets sounded and the army was ordered to move. A few men noticed that they seemed to be moving in the direction they had originally came from. What was happening? Had Alexander managed to outmanoeuvre them and to escape from the trap? Or, but this was only whispered, was the Great King fleeing again? However, Arses did not seem afraid when he rode surrounded by his army. He seemed to be just as determined as he had been when they left Babylon.

The fifth day was again a marching day, although they started later than usual. The Great King had postponed the start of the march to pray to the Wise Lord. The impressive altar which had been carried along with Arses on the march to Issos had been lost, and Arses had forbidden the construction of a new one, supposedly because he wanted to recapture the original one. Orxines knew, however, that the Great King had developed an intense dislike of the thing when he was in Persepolis. Apparently, the altar carried by magicians had been introduced by Xerxes the Great. And that was the reason for the King’s dislike of it. Orxines had learned from remarks, overheard by him and other Immortals, that the Great King held Xerxes responsible for something. The fall of the Persian Empire, one Immortal had said, but what Arses meant with ‘fall’ the man could not say. The defeat at Issos, perhaps?
For whatever reason, there wasn’t an altar, and Arses prayed directly to the Sun, in a most impressive ceremony.
The marching proceeded as usual, although they did stop at an earlier time than normal. Camp was made, and the soldiers were advised to settle down early for the night. The Great King wanted to start marching very early, the next day. “Then why didn’t he start marching early today?” the inquisitive Greeks asked. “The King has his reasons and these are not for you to know” they were answered.
Orxines was not fooled, however. The prayer to the Wise Lord, the irregular marching, the coming and going of the officers all pointed to one thing: the Great King was positioning his army for battle. The “early night” was an important clue. Officers did not care how well their soldiers slept if they were going to march. However, they did care when the soldiers were going to fight. The ‘hunting trip’ of the Great King was probably to survey Alexander’s army. He needed fast horses for such a daring move, but Persian horses were the best.
The soldiers were nervous. You could read it on the faces of the new recruits and in the way the professional soldiers had intensified their boasting. Also, everybody was looking for omens. Deep inside they had a pretty good idea what was going to happen. Orxines knew what was going to happen. Battle. And a big one too. But it didn’t worry him, much. It has to happen, and better now than later. What worried Orxines was the outcome. Sure, the army the Great King had assembled was definitely better than the one that had been defeated at Issos, but was it good enough to defeat those Greeks? Orxines had seen the defeat at Issos, had seen the slaughter at the hands of the Macedonian phalanx. You just could not fight the phalanx if you attacked it frontally. The Great King had Greek mercenary hoplites, but these weren’t up to the standard of the phalanx, and they were with far too few. The bulk of the army was still peasant levies, and at the battle of Issos these had hardly impeded the progress of the phalanx. What would happen if the Great King would fail? That thought was treason, but Orxines thought it nevertheless. What would happen if they were defeated? Greeks hated Persians and Persians looked down upon Greeks. The Persians could not expect much mercy from Alexander.
Orxines could not free himself from his fears when he went to the tent he shared with a group of Immortals. He would need something to help him sleep tonight. Luckily, this time he had brought his own herbs.

The sky was pitch black, but turning red at the horizon. Arses stood alone on an empty field. He was afraid. He recognized the place. It was the field on which all his dream-battles were fought. But there were no corpses, no soldiers, no phalanx. There was nothing but a dark cloud on one side of the field. Arses was very afraid of the cloud. He turned round and walked away, but he could not run. He looked back and saw that the cloud was following him, closing in. This time, he could run. He ran as hard as he could and looked around again. The cloud was even closer. Arses panicked and started to run again, but tripped. And then the cloud was right next to him. Arses tried to crawl away, all the while screaming, but the cloud attacked. Arses was shaken roughly. “My Lord, it is but a dream But a dream” a voice shouted. Arses waited until the cloud turned into the dark tapestry that separated his niche from the central area of his tent. Arses knew it had been a dream, but still had been afraid. Now the dream was over, he could calm down.
“My Lord, it was but a dream” said the Immortal who had awakened him, in a more normal tone of voice.
“I know”, Arses said “I know it was a dream. I even knew it was a dream when I was dreaming.” Yet I was still afraid, he added in his mind. I was afraid of being afraid.
The Immortal stood silently to attention. Usually after being awakened, the Great King would start giving orders to make breakfast or prepare the training court.
I am afraid of being afraid, Arses thought, while staring straight ahead. That is the only thing I truly fear. If I cannot stop the phalanx, I will die. But then I deserve to die, so I am not really afraid of them. The only thing that I am afraid of, that threatened me like the cloud, is fear. I am afraid to panic. I am afraid to flee, like I did at Issos.
The Immortal started to become uneasy, because of the King’s silence. This was unusual. Arses kept staring for a few more moments, and then seemed to reach a conclusion. “How late is it”, he asked in his normal voice.
“About two turns of the sand-glass before sun dawn. We would have awakened you soon.”
Arses got out of his bed. “Warn the camp master. He knows what to do. I am going to dress and want to breakfast. Prepare my weapons and horses.”
“Yes, My Lord”, the Immortal said, and left Arses’ tent.
Arses smiled grimly. The only thing to fear was fear itself. The fear of the phalanx was just the fear of death, but he could handle that. Death was nothing to fear, it would come to him if he deserved it. The panic was the true danger. But this fear came from within himself, so he could control it. The only thing to fear on the battlefield was the panic, but if there was nothing to feared, nothing to panic about...
He could fight it. Just like the phalanx.

[Ludens]

Orxines was awakened by another Immortal. Torches were lit in the camp, as it was still before dawn. Officers were giving orders, trying to be heard everywhere, without actually shouting: “Every man wake up his comrades and break fast. Then he should put on his armour and weapons and form up in a wide formation on that plain. Leave everything you don’t need in the camp. No fires, no loud noises.”
Orxines had no appetite, but still he ate. At best, this was going to be his last meal until the evening and he was going to need it. He urged the more inexperienced Immortals to do the same. No matter how many battles you survived, you never got rid of that hollow feeling in your stomach before a large battle. Whatever was boasted, everyone was afraid. The trick was to keep your wits. If you kept looking for possible ways of escape, you weren’t ready for the fight. You just had to go through with it.
On the plain, the army formed up quickly. The endless drilling had paid off. It took very little time to form a formation. Orxines noticed that the formation looked like the one used at Issos. However, there was no enemy in sight. The open plain allowed the army to march in battle formation. Orxines took up position next to the Great King as it was his duty to guard the King during the battle. Most of the other Immortals had been given important positions for the fight, but Orxines did not know what these positions were. Arses and his bodyguard were mounted, the way true Persians fight. Arses hated the cumbersome Sun Chariot of his predecessors. Orxines looked around. The faces of the men surrounding the Immortals were like masks of terror. This was it. The battle was going to come, and they were going to die. Orxines looked at the Great King. It was difficult to see Arses’ expression under the ornate helmet he wore, but to Orxines it didn’t seem the expression of a frightened man. The expression was tense. The tension of a man who still is afraid, but determined to see things through. Because he knows he has no other option.
The army was going to march into the direction it had yesterday come from. So the Greek invaders had been behind them The Persians had moved away from Alexander And Alexander had followed them, and was now so close that the distance could be walked in full armour. The sky was already turning red. In the distance, there was a large town. Gaza. They had been marching to Gaza. The plain in front of the city would make a good battlefield for such a large army.
The sun rose over the horizon quickly, and revealed another army on the field. The Greek army. Orxines’ experienced eyes saw that they were still forming up. The Great King’s aggressive advance, after being chased by them for two days, had caught the Greeks by surprise.
But suddenly, Orxines saw something that frightened him more than the Greeks. The men around him, not the Immortals, but the other troops, suddenly did not look afraid any more. They were laughing. Laughing at their enemies.

Arses looked around. It was going perfect to plan. His feint retreat had lured Alexander to chase him. And today’s sudden, early attack had ensured that Alexander’s army wasn’t ready yet. Arses had a little time to grab the initiative, and that was he planned to do. The Greeks were positioned a little to the southwest of the Persians, so they had to look slightly into the sun. Arses’ army was already in a rough formation for the battle. The large plain had allowed him to move to Alexander in battle formation. The Persian centre was mainly made up of the peasant troops, while at the flanks light cavalry could be seen. Just as at Issos. But that was the intention.
Behind the thin screen of light cavalry stood the new Persian heavy cavalry. Alexander could not see these, and perhaps he didn’t even know they were there. The peasants were not armed with stones and daggers, as at Issos, but with javelins and slings, and they had been drilled to use these against a phalanx. Arses was going to fight the same battle, but this time with different troops.
Arses kept a large part of his army in reserve, including his elephants and two groups of a hundred scythed chariots. These things looked very impressive, but could be dealt with easily by the right soldiers. Alexander would have no trouble despatching of them if Arses sent them in at the beginning of the battle. He wanted to give Alexander something else to worry about before throwing in these toys.
Alexander formation was pretty much as it was at Issos. Phalanx in the centre, cavalry at the flank, skirmishers up front. Only one thing was strange, there was a third line, right behind the phalanx, consisting of another phalanx. Or ordinary hoplites, Arses couldn’t see the difference at this distance.
Arses sighed. This was it. Today, either he killed his Demons, or his Demons killed him. He would not run away. If he failed, nothing could save Persia and his life was worthless.
“Why do I have to correct the faults of my forebears?” Arses thought once again. “This wouldn’t have happened if Persia had stayed strong, if Xerxes hadn’t corrupted us.” But he was on his own now. If he succeeded, Persia would be strong again. If he failed, Persia was weak and would die.
Arses swallowed the last remains of his fear, saying to himself that it was only fear of being afraid. Whatever happened today, he had done what he could. Now, it was up to Fate. He took a javelin and rode through his army to the centre of the front line. The men cheered. Their King was not a coward He would lead them from the front Arses noticed how Orxines and the other Immortals who guarded him were looking puzzled about this enthusiasm of their comrades. Arses wasn’t. He knew that these new recruits would be afraid and the phalanx could scare them even more. He had to ensure that their morale was to be relied on. Therefore, on his orders, the cooks had added certain spices to the food of the peasant levies. These spices caused a feeling of euphoria to creep over you. Of course, the officers needed to think straight, so they hadn’t been given these drugs. Neither had the hoplites, the cavalrymen and the Immortals, because their tasks were too important and they could be relied upon to fight, with or without drugs.

Arses and his bodyguard stood at the front of the army. The cheer now stretched out over the entire front line. The spices had worked. Every soldier in the front line was eager for battle, and certain of victory. Arses turned his horse, raising his javelin above his head. The cheer rose as the soldiers stretched their weapons into the sky. To the left and right of Arses, small groups of the newly recruited Immortal javelineers appeared at the front line. They would lead the attack together with the Great King. They hadn’t been drugged, but they had no experience so they weren’t scared by their comrades’ enthusiasm. It encouraged them. Arses turned his horse round again, javelin above his head, and looked at his army. The cheer was now so loud that the horses were getting scared. Arses said a short prayer to the Wise Lord, and with an abrupt movement, he let his arm fall, pointed his javelin forward and spurred his horse to the Greeks. The entire Persian army followed him. A large mass of Persian skirmishers thundered over the plain. The skirmishers were led by small groups of Immortals and at their flanks was Persian cavalry. Behind the skirmishers was another mass of reserves: the chariots, elephants, mercenary hoplites, Immortals and others. At the head rode the Great King Arses, just like Cyrus the Great in centuries past, at the front, javelin ready, his armour gleaming as he stormed towards the Greeks. The entire Persian army was coming in one massive charge towards the invaders. The Persians and their allies would drive them away, or die in the attempt.

Through a lightning fast manoeuvre, Alexander pulled back his skirmishers. They would be overrun if they stayed up at the front. The phalanx could deal with this attack, Alexander thought. The Persian King had become a lot more aggressive since Issos, but he seemed not to have learned. He still thought those peasants could hold back the phalanx, and he still thought that those light cavalrymen could threaten Alexander’s flank.

Arses rode on, followed closely by the skirmishers. The Greek skirmishers had retreated. That was a stroke of luck. The phalanx had now formed a solid front line and was moving forward. They lowered their spears. Arses had a flashback to Issos, but gritted his teeth and rode on. He went straight for one of the phalanx leaders, who was marching next to his phalanx. Arses thundered towards him, threw his javelin when he was just out of range of the pikes, and turned his horse to the right. The man didn’t have chance. The javelin penetrated his helmet and he flew several feet backwards before lying still on the ground. Arses’ bodyguard, chosen out of the Immortals for their horsemanship and their skill with the javelin, followed their King’s example. Arses turned around and made a second run, killing the man who had taken his leader’s place. The Persian skirmishers, with the Immortal javelineers at front, arrived and followed their King’s example. Stopping just out range of the pikes, they threw their javelins or slinged their bullets into the dense phalanx, ran back a few yards, turned and threw their missiles again. At some distance behind the skirmishers, Persian archers unleashed a hail of arrows on the Greeks. However, the phalanx did not stop. They were disciplined, experienced and well armoured. At their leader’s yell, they charged forward to the skirmishers, killing anyone who didn’t turn and ran fast enough. But the Persian skirmishers were fast. The rain of javelins, bullets and arrows lessened but did not stop. The phalanx had to keep in formation and couldn’t keep up. They couldn’t stop either, because then the skirmishers would start drumming them with missiles again. For the first time in the phalanx’ history, the phalanx faced something it could not take on.

Arses retired quickly once the skirmishers had taken over. As the skirmishers had stormed forward, the screen of Persian light cavalry at both flanks had opened up and allowed the Persian heavy cavalry to thunder from their hiding toward their opponents.
Arses moved to the left wing of his army, or Alexander’s right. He took the mercenary hoplites with him. Due to some strange notion about honour, the right side of a Greek army usually contained their best men. Alexander himself always fought on the right. Arses had planned accordingly and placed his best cavalry at his right, or Alexander’s left. This would mean that the cavalry battle on Arses’ right flank could be easily won by the Persians, while the battle on the left would probably be lost. But that was part of the plan.
The Greek cavalry had been taken completely by surprise by this unexpected threat in the form of the Persian heavy cavalry. The light cavalry was circling around the melee and throwing their javelins whenever they saw an opening. On both flanks the fight was going well for Arses. However, that could change soon.
Arses was staring intently at the phalanx. His fear of it had almost disappeared when he killed the first Greek, but the phalanx was still formidable. They were moving forward, trying to keep up with the Persian skirmishers, and their flanks were unprotected The Greek cavalry had been pinned down by the Persian cavalry. As soon as the second line of phalanxes was kept busy, Arses could flank the first line. A unit of one hundred scythed chariots had been sent to attack the second line of phalanxes as soon as they could get past the Greek cavalry. This was not part of the original plan, but Arses adapted to his opponents formation. In the end, it might prove even more effective.
And there the chariots were coming in, making a lot of noise, and scaring the hell out of the Greeks. Suddenly Arses held his breath. Oh no, the idiot in command of those things wasn’t attacking the second line of phalanxes, but the first line He would crushed between two phalanxes And the second line would not be distracted so Arses could not attack the first
Panic almost took hold of him. We are going to lose the battle, his Demons screamed. Persia is going to die But Arses managed to take control of himself again. He tried hard to calm down. He still had another unit of scythed chariots. He was the commander, he had to give orders. To a messenger he said, “Have the second unit of chariots attack the backmost line of phalanxes from behind. Do it fast. Don’t help that fool who got himself caught between the two phalanxes. He deserves the death he gets.” The messenger repeated the message and then rode off to the chariots. The battle was not going well now. The left flank battle had turned in favour of the Greeks. Arses sent another division of cavalry to prolong that fight. Both lines of phalanxes had turned their attention to the reckless charioteers who were being impaled on two hedges of pikes. The archers were afraid to hit the chariots and had stopped firing, while the other skirmishers were wavering because of this sudden turn of events. Only the right flank battle was going well now.

[Ludens]

But things were not desperate. There were three battles going on, and that was the way Arses wanted to keep it. Full of impatience, he waited for the second unit of chariots to come into action. The first chariot unit had been destroyed and the archers had started firing again. The Greek phalanx had suffered significant losses but was still able to fight and started chasing the skirmishers again. It was a stupid thing to do, but as long as the Greek cavalry was engaged, it was the only thing they could do. The skirmishers were not losing the fight, but their morale was shaken. Perhaps the drug had worn off. The phalanx still moved on, cutting down every skirmisher who didn’t run away fast enough. However, it was not the ordered, unstoppable advance that had despaired Arses at Issos. It was a frantic attempt to get to their enemies. The phalanx was in trouble.
At last, the chariots arrived and this time they attacked the right phalanx. Alexander’s second line had to turn to face the chariots, which wheeled away easily and then returned to attack another flank. The second line was effectively pinned down. In the distance, Greek skirmishers moved to aid their comrades, but that was a problem for later. Arses signalled to his slaves, and they raised a red flag. This was the signal for two groups of Immortals, both veterans and new recruits, to storm forward and attack the first line of phalanx in the back. They could do this because the second Greek line was distracted by the chariots. The skirmishers started cheering again and doubled their barrage of missiles. Fresh units of skirmishers were sent to reinforce their colleagues. Slaves were running back and forth to supply more javelins. The phalanx was thrown into disorder by these combined efforts, and the Greeks were wavering. Alexander’s hard-pressed allied cavalry on the Persian right mistook the cheer for a Persian victory cry and gave up their struggle against the Persian cavalry. The Persian horsemen started chasing them away, but then a horn sounded. This was a signal to remind them of their orders and they turned, except for a few light cavalry whose task it was to chase those Greeks from the field. The instructions of the other horsemen were to sweep behind the Greek lines and attack everything that wasn’t a phalanx.

The cavalry battle on the Persian left, however, had not gone well for the Persians. The allied horsemen the Great King had sent to support the Persians had only delayed the Greek winning here. Now the Persians there were fleeing, and Alexander himself stood at the head of his Companion cavalry. He looked around and saw that, despite his victory here, the battle was not going well for the Macedonians. He had underestimated Arses. Again First in Egypt, then when pursuing him and now at the battle. Now, either he could try to save his phalanx, engage the other Persian cavalry or he could make a very bold move. He could see Arses not far away. The Great King of Persia seemed to have engaged all his heavy cavalry, as he was protected only by a small screen of light cavalry. These would probably be crack troops, but still no match for the Companion Cavalry. If he could kill Arses, he would cripple their command structure. Then he could destroy the Persians one by one. Ordering several of his cavalry units to support the phalanx, Alexander took his own unit, the King’s Companions and charged in the direction of Arses. He flew over the plain and stormed at the Great King’s cavalry bodyguard. But instead of putting up a fight, the Persian cavalry fled, revealing a line of hoplites. Alexander held in his charge. It was either that or having his horse speared. And Arses turned to him and waved. “Welcome Alexander”, he shouted in Greek with a heavy Persian accent.
Alexander controlled his rage. He shouted “Coward” and turned his horse. The weakling Arses was hiding behind Greek mercenaries. There was nothing Alexander could do here. He had to save his phalanx.

Arses saw Alexander go. Then he looked back at the battle. The collapse of the left Persian flank had changed the scales of fortune in favour of the Greeks. The Macedonian cavalry had attacked the central front of the Persian skirmishers and the Immortals. The phalanx was able reform and started cutting up the Immortals too.
However, this change of fortune didn’t last long. Mede spearmen got through the melee and formed a line against the Macedonian cavalry. Once the initial charge was over, the tired Macedonians were rapidly overwhelmed by Persian numbers. The battle was undecided. The phalanx was finally able to do what it did best: fight at spear length. The second line of phalanx, consisting of fresh Greek hoplites, was rapidly approaching after having got rid of the scythed chariots. The Persians were tired too. Alexander and the King’s Companions charged into the Persian centre, causing many casualties and forcing the Persian skirmishers to flee.

Arses ordered his reserves to form up and rode up to the front. There he said “This is the end of the battle, the great charge that will decide the outcome. We will determine whether Persia lives or dies. Who will follow their King?”
The men yelled. They had been standing there for very long, and the battle had fuelled their fury. This was the final battle, and they all felt like heroes. They would fight, and see either victory or death.
Arses turned his horse and charged to the melee, followed by his bodyguards, the last unit of Persian light cavalry and the reserves of veteran skirmishers. The mercenary hoplites lowered their spears and moved forward. The elephants swung to the left side of the battlefield. The skirmishers spread out to the right. Forward they flew, to battle for the Fate of Persia, led by their young King. For the second time in the battle, Arses led a great charge that raced over the plain to save their countrymen, and their country. Behind him, the steady Greek mercenaries followed in open formation, ready to take over when the melee was resolved. At the same time as Arses charged into the rear of the King’s Companions, the remains of the Persian heavy cavalry slammed into the back of the phalanx. The phalanx, tired and depleted by the endless stream of missiles, broke. Their formation fell to pieces, their pikes were dropped and their swords were drawn. The skirmishers, encouraged by their opponents disorder, stormed forward and overwhelmed the exhausted Macedonians. The Macedonians were slowly brought to their knees. For every Persian they slew, two new ones appeared. The Macedonian horses were being killed off by the Mede spearmen. The fresh Persian skirmishers prevented Alexander’s hoplites from joining the fight. The only Greek unit in the melee that was still in shape was Alexander’s own unit, the King’s companions.

Arses quickly ended the melee in the centre by pulling back his men. This allowed several hundreds of Macedonians to escape, but at least his men were not going to be speared by Alexander’s remaining hoplites. Those hoplites were Greek troops with an intense dislike of Persia. They had a bill to settle and Alexander’s example spurred them on. They were fresh, almost in full numbers, and full of fury. Alexander himself had disappeared from sight as his unit had left the melee. Arses did not know where Alexander was, but he had other things on his mind as Alexander’s hoplites were approaching his troops.
Arses’ own hoplites, who had stayed behind, now ran through Arses’ other troops, formed up, and marched into the direction of the opponents. Arses suddenly heard yelling. For a moment, he thought his nightmare had returned to plague him, but no, it was the Greeks on both sides who were shouting insults at each other. Greeks... They were accusing each other of supporting the enemy of Greek freedom.
Strange, thought Arses, I had forgotten my Demons for a moment. “Every one, go past their flanks and attack their backs,” he shouted in Persian. The two lines of hoplites were now at a short distance, shouting foul words in each other’s direction. Arses’ hoplites were no match for Alexander’s, who were with more men and full of fury against their traitorous countrymen. Suddenly, a group of elephants rolled straight over the left flank of Greeks line, throwing them out of formation. Arses’ men, seeing their opponent’s disorder, charged forward to take full advantage of this. The tired Persian heavy cavalry charged at the Greek’s backs. The Immortal swordsmen followed their example. The Persian skirmishers, Arses at their head, run around them and started pummelling them with everything they could lay their hands on; javelins, stones, even the helmets of fallen soldiers. Arses himself charged straight in and used his spear to kill two Greeks before they could turn around. He turned and fled the spears, only to attack somewhere else where they weren’t looking. He did not see anything anymore. Just the fight in front of him. Hit and run and hit and run. Suddenly, Orxines grabbed him by the shoulder “My Lord” he shouted, pointing away from the fight. Arses came out of his frenzy and saw the King’s Companions charging towards him at full speed, Alexander at their head.
He is coming Arses thought, he is coming to kill me We have lost Arses looked around in panic. Suddenly he realized that Alexander’s hoplites were fighting a desperate fight to keep in formation. They were being attacked and cut up from all sides. Despite the casualties the Persians took, they kept on coming. The phalanx had lost, the phalanx was destroyed The ghost that had hounded him for so many months was dead. Alexander had lost, Arses had won. Persia had won, Persia was strong again. He had done what he had to do. Now, there was nothing left but to finish it off. Arses turned his horse and gestured for a javelin. One of the Immortals threw him one. He took it, spurred his horse, and charged. His guards fell in behind him. The last charge. The fury that streamed through his veins made him forget his tiredness. It didn’t matter whether he would live or die. Arses had done what he had to do. Arses had won.

Alexander thundered towards his opponent. His last chance. The coward was no longer hiding and now he was unprotected by his cavalry, with only a few bodyguards around him. If Alexander could kill him, he could win the battle. He could avenge the death of his soldiers. Arses had to die and Alexander would kill him himself.

Arses raised his javelin and threw. Time seemed to slow down. The javelin flew in a beautiful arc. Alexander had seen his opponent preparing to throw and had steered his horse away, but Arses had counted on that. The javelin flew right through the neck of Alexander’s horse, coming out again on the other side. The horse reared and only a miracle prevented its rider from falling off. Then it fell over to Arses’ side, with Alexander landing alongside it. Alexander’s cavalrymen steered around him and attacked the outnumbered Immortals, trying to prevent them from reaching their king. In the chaos, Arses dismounted and walked over to Alexander. He was hardly aware what was happening around him. His vision seemed like a tunnel, and he almost didn’t notice the fight. A tall Macedonian killed the Immortal most near by and then attempted to attack the Great King, but was speared by Orxines. Orxines immediately attacked the next Macedonian in a frantic attempt to prevent them from reaching his King. Two Macedonians ganged up on him. Another Immortal came to his aid, but too late. Orxines’ armour was ripped open by a scimitar and he fell off his horse. As he lay on the ground, he tried to stand up but was unable to control his arms. He vaguely wondered what had happened, while darkness flowed into his vision.
Arses threw away his spear and pulled his sword. Alexander could not stand up; his left leg was jammed under the horse. He looked at Arses and grabbed his scimitar. Arses tried to see Alexander’s eyes under that long Greek helmet. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he saw incomprehension, as if the man did not understand what had happened. Alexander tried to hold his scimitar between himself and Arses’ sword. Arses kicked the scimitar away and tried again to look into Alexander’s eyes. It was definitely the gaze of someone who couldn’t understand why he had lost. Alexander didn’t even try to reach for his scimitar again. Arses watched in pity for one small moment, and then stabbed his own sword under Alexander’s chin.

And pulled it out again. Alexander’s body fell on the ground. Time sped up again as a great yell was raised. The Persian cavalry had seen their King’s danger and had charged right at the Greeks from two directions. The Macedonians were shouting because of their king’s death, panicking, not knowing what to do. Alexander’s hoplites were running for their lives towards the horizon, followed by a horde of bloodthirsty Persian skirmishers. Arses straightened up and cried out all the emotions that where flowing through him “We have won We are alive Persia lives again” The yell echoed over the plain and was taken over by the other men “We have won We are alive” The noble Persian cavalry and peasants alike shouted it towards the sky.

“We have won We are alive”
“Persia lives again”

[Ludens]

Epilogue

After the death of Alexander, the southern Greek cities, led by Athens, revolted against Macedonian rule. The Greek Alliance collapsed and Macedonian power crumbled, never to rise again. After this successful revolution, the Greek cities fell back into their petty rivalry. They were unable to threaten Persia or to protect the Greek cities in Asia Minor. The reborn Persian army, led by the Great King Arses, swept over whatever resistance was mustered in Asia Minor. After that, Arses returned to Persepolis and continued to reform the Persian military, education and government. Then he annexed Egypt through a political ruse. He chased away the occupying Macedonian forces, detested by the Egyptian, and he asked forgiveness for his father’s sins toward the Egyptian Gods. Arses was hailed as Pharaoh of Egypt and the once rebellious Egyptians became the Great King’s most loyal subjects.
After stabilizing his rule in Asia Minor and Egypt, the Great King planned the conquest of the East. After a long and hard campaign, lasting two decades, he managed to subdue India. Leaving his youngest son and heir, Cambyses, in charge of the further conquest for the Eastern Empire, he returned to Persepolis. After stabilizing the northern frontier by making strategical alliances with Scythian chieftains, Arses finally thought the time ripe to avenge the invasion of Persian territory.
Making clever use of the division between the Greek cities, he invaded Greece, showing consummate skill in military as well as political conquest. Although Persian rule in Greece was not stabilized until after his death, he laid the foundation for the unified Greece under Persian rule, which was later accomplished by Arses’ eldest son Cyrus.
Arses died at the age of 69, in the battle of Corinth, leading the newly formed Spartan phalanx into combat against the Thessalian Alliance. In the initial clash, the Spartans had quickly prevailed over their opponents, but the Alliance had kept a strategical reserve behind. When the Great King was leading his Spartan allies to this second force, he was hit by several arrows. Despite his wounds, he kept walking on, never moving his eyes away from his opponents. After the ensuing melee, the Great King was missing, only to be found dead between the corpses fallen in the melee. He had not been killed by a pike, but by the arrows that had hit him earlier. According to the Spartans who had marched next to him, he had not given one sign of the pain he must have felt. The Spartans were so impressed by the Great King’s self command that, on his grave, they swore everlasting loyalty to the Persian Crown. Their allegiance was to prove a deciding factor in the suppression of the Greek rebellions following Arses’ death. Finally, eight years after the death of the Great King, his son Cyrus accomplished an unified Greece in the name of his brother, the Great King Cambyses the second.

After Arses’ death, the days of the battle of Issos and the battle of Gaza were declared official remembrance days. The day of the battle of Issos was declared a day of mourning, for the Persian Empire had died that day. The day of the battle of Gaza was declared a day of celebration, for that day, Persia was reborn.
Arses was considered to be the greatest Persian King since Cyrus the Great, the founder of the Persian Empire. He reformed Persia and restored it into the greatest power of the civilized world. His name would always be remembered.

Arses the Great
The man who made Persia strong again.

[Ludens]

^



Or so it would have been if Bagoas had accidentally poisoned himself instead of Arses # .



Sources
For those who are interested in Alexander the Great

More books have been written about Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, son of Philip II) than would fit into my room. Most of these I haven’t read # . Of those I did read, none contained the Alexander I created for my story. I do not think I recreated the real Alexander any better than these other books did, but it might be the Alexander the Persians saw.
Side note: Alexander received the description ‘the Great’ somewhere in the Roman times, so calling him ‘the Great’ in this story would be an anachronism. I have avoided this, but I did put it in the title, to make clear which Alexander I was writing about.

-If you are interested in some light reading with Alexander as shining hero, lots of daring adventures and passionate scenes, you can try the Alexander-trilogy by Valerio Massimo Manfredi. The English titles are Son of a Dream, The Sands of Amon and The Ends of the Earth. However, if you are interested in the REAL Alexander, DO NOT READ THIS JUNK
I mean, the freedom of the Muse is all very well, but at one point Alexander even stumbles into the Amazons Alexander is the prince on the white horse who does everything right, always has the right plans and whose friends would gladly die for him (although they do betray him occasionally).

-For a more real, but still rather heroic Alexander, try the books of Mary Renault: Fire from Heaven, The Persian Boy and The Nature of Alexander. The last is a short summary of Alexander’s life, the first two are novels.

-For a less friendly picture of Alexander, there is Iskander (the Persian name for Alexander) from Louis Couperus. I understand it is being translated into English at this moment (Oktober 2004). Where Manfredi made Alexander always do the right thing, Couperus always makes him do the evil thing. The truth, as usual, will lie in between these extremes.

-A book not about Alexander, but about the Persia a few centuries before Alexander is Creation from Gore Vidal. I can recommend this book to everyone who is interested in philosophy and / or ancient history. If you find it in a bookstore, just read the first few pages and you know whether you will like it or not.


The historical Arses is a very dim figure, and it is extremely doubtful if he would manage to stop Alexander had he lived to do it. But he didn’t because the Grand Vizier Bagoas poisoned him after disposing of Arses’ brothers (Oxathres was actually the name of Darius’ brother). Then Bagoas put a lesser royal noble on the throne: Darius III, who quickly rewarded Bagoas for his services by poisoning him. But Darius turned out to be a coward, and he couldn’t stop Alexander. He was killed by his own noblemen, who wanted to get rid of him. Alexander later avenged Darius’ death, as promised to the real Oxathres, and he became Great King of Persia.

[Aymar de Bois Mauri]

C'est un epic extraordinaire, Lord Ludens

Awesome

However, two quircks:

Quote[/b] ]The Persian skirmishers, Arses at their head, run around them and started pummelling them with everything they could lay their hands on, javelins, bullets, stones, even the helmets of fallen soldiers.

-Bullets?

-Greeks and Macedonians didn't use scimitars, their curved sword is a falcata (Indo-European sword).

I don't know how the Greeks call them, though...

Try asking Rosacrux or rasoforos.

[Ludens]

*** Bows ***

Thank you for your compliment.

Prince Aymar, regarding your issues:
-Bullets: the stones used in slingshots. Stones and bullets? Oops, editors error, it has already been removed.
-Scimitar: I don't know much about weapons. I just meant a curved cavalry sword. The nearest thing is scimitar, and that is also the word most people would understand. Same for the trumpets: I doubt they had them, but it is just about the image.

But perhaps you could help me solve one of the mysteries that has puzzled me when I wrote the story. How could it be that Persepolis, the capital of Persia, has a GREEK name?

Ludens

BTW: why Europa Barbarorum?

[Aymar de Bois Mauri]

Quote[/b] ]But perhaps you could help me solve one of the mysteries that has puzzled me when I wrote the story. How could it be that Persepolis, the capital of Persia, has a GREEK name?

Maybe because after the fall of the Persian Empire, the Hellenistic Period followed. Alexander's territories were torn between his generals. This was a period of domination of Macedonian Nobility in Greece, Macedonia, Thracia, Egypt and Persia. The reasons to use the original name of Persepolis, must have been cast aside by the use of the Greek designation...

Quote[/b] ]BTW: why Europa Barbarorum?

Anything that can improve RTW...

[The Wizard]

Persepolis means Persian City, in a rather rude way in ancient Greek.

History is written by the victors...

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (Wizzy @ Jan. 13 2004,17:13)]Persepolis means Persian City, in a rather rude way in ancient Greek.

History is written by the victors...

Yes, but we do know the names of other Persian cities: Susa, Babylon, Parsagedea.
During the Greek rule, Persepolis was no more, Alexander had burned it down (very uncharacteristic of him). On the other hand, for Darius we also use a Greek name, but his real name IS known, while that of Persepolis isn't (as far as I know).

[Aymar de Bois Mauri]

Quote[/b] ] On the other hand, for Darius we also use a Greek name, but his real name IS known, while that of Persepolis isn't (as far as I know).

What was the Great King's Persian name?

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (Aymar de Bois Mauri @ Jan. 14 2004,00:35)]What was the Great King's Persian name?

Darayavaush

Don't try to pronounce this at home
Source: Mary Renault (this might be Darius I or Darius III, I don't know).

BTW you really like those new smilies, don't you?

[The Wizard]

THEY ROCK

[Aymar de Bois Mauri]

Quote[/b] ]Darayavaush

Don't try to pronounce this at home
Source: Mary Renault (this might be Darius I or Darius III, I don't know).

To be honest, I thought it would be worst...

Quote[/b] ]BTW you really like those new smilies, don't you?

Yeap, I really do

[Amirsan]

Wow, this story is facinating Would you mind sharing it with us in our Stories and Tales forum? Here;

http://www.zerogamersmedia.com/phpbb2