Memnon (45 page)

Their shadows writhed in the thin golden light; the hungry press of lips muffled their cries of passion. Soon, their sweat-beaded bodies lay intertwined on the divan, Barsine’s head resting on Memnon’s chest as she listened to the pulse of his heart.

For a long time neither spoke. Finally, Barsine sighed. “How … how did my brother die?”

“A javelin,” Memnon replied. Quietly, he told her about the battle and its aftermath. She looked up, troubled, when he spoke of Omares’ fate.

“May the Great God preserve us,” she said.

Memnon stirred. “Have you seen Cophen?”

She snuggled closer, shaking her head. “I have not left your side. Khafre came in while you were sleeping. He has gone to look after the wounded. Lie still.”

“There’s too much to do.”

“Can it not wait till morning?”

Memnon ceased moving, one arm pillowing his head, the other draped across Barsine’s back. She could sense the tension flowing back into him, his muscles knotting and unknotting—no doubt a side effect of his mind growing restless and active.

“What is wrong?” she asked, rising up on her elbows.

He exhaled. “I have to send you away, Barsine. You and the children,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “Asia’s no longer safe, not so long as the Macedonians remain unchecked. Even cities not on Alexander’s route won’t be spared from conflict. Democrats will rise up against the oligarchs … it will be the chaos of Rhodes all over again.”

Barsine sat up. “Where will you send us?”

“To the Great King … to your father. I’m sending Cophen with you. Alexander is his friend, and he doesn’t have the stomach to do what’s necessary against him.”

“What do you mean?” She reached down and picked up her robe, shaking it out before she stood and slipped it over her head. “Is this to be a unique war?”

Memnon sat up, too. He ran his fingers through his hair, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. Exhaustion yet lined his face. “Unique? Only in its brutality. Alexander has proven his capacity for barbarity, shown the quality of his mercy at Thebes and at the Granicus. He seeks to cow Asia as he cowed Hellas. I mean to show him his error. I’ll make him waste himself in siege after useless siege, force him to spend his most precious asset—his men. Then, after he’s watched his companions shatter themselves on Asia’s walls, I will take the fight back to his home. I will burn Macedonia to ashes if that’s what it takes to get him out of our lands.” Memnon took her hand, kissed it. “But I can’t wage this kind of war if I know you and the children are near.”

“Send us to Damascus or to Egypt, instead. I am sure Khafre would take excellent care of us in Egypt,” Barsine said. Tears sprang to her eyes. She knelt. “Please, my love! Do not send us so far from your side!”

“I must,” he replied. His heart wrenched in his chest. “Only in the shadow of the Great King will you be beyond the reach of my enemies, Macedonian and Persian. I must be free to move and to act without constrains of worry.”

Barsine sobbed. Memnon gathered her up in his arms, holding her gently as she cried into his shoulder. “W-When?”

Memnon closed his eyes, tears streaking into his beard. “Soon.”

 

T
HEIR SEPARATION CAME SOONER THAN
M
EMNON EXPECTED
. T
HREE WEEKS
after the debacle at the Granicus, in early Skirophorion, news came from Sardis. The commander of the citadel, one of Spithridates’ cousins, betrayed the city to Alexander. His perfidy meant there would be no long siege, no pitched battle on the Hermus plain, no loss of Macedonian life.

“Alexander has his father’s gift for intrigue,” Memnon said, frowning. He and Khafre stood over a table set up in the courtyard of the estate, studying a map of Ionia and Caria. “His clemency toward Sardis will invigorate our opposition.”

“How long before news of this reversal becomes common knowledge?” Khafre asked.

“We have hours, a day at the most.” Memnon glanced up as Cophen entered the courtyard, followed by Thymondas, Azanes, and Mardius. “Well?”

Cophen nodded. “A ship is waiting, Uncle. We can leave as soon as Barsine and the children are ready.”

“Good. You’ll leave within the hour. Take them south, Cophen, to the Gulf of Issus. Disembark and travel overland to the Royal Road; your path should be unhindered all the way to Susa. Mardius, you and Azanes will accompany them. Take fifty
kardakes,
men you trust. Khafre?”

The Egyptian exhaled. “I will go, as well, though I still maintain my services would be of better use nearer to the battlefield.”

“I feel better knowing you will make the journey with them, Khafre,” Memnon said, gripping the Egyptian’s shoulder. “Thymondas, you and I will lead the troops out before the good citizens of Ephesus realize we’re gone. Take a thousand hoplites and reinforce Miletus. I’ll take the balance with me to Halicarnassus.” He straightened. “Gentlemen, time is of the essence. Go.”

Men hustled about their business; soldiers and servants pitched in to ready horses and wagons, officers spread the word of their imminent withdrawal by word of mouth, exhorting their charges to be ready. Amid this buzz of activity Memnon remained still, dissecting the map again and again to be certain his tactics were sound.
Draw him in. Make him waste—

Cloth rustled. He turned.

“So it is true? Sardis has fallen?” Barsine stepped out into the sunlight. In her black gown, her long hair hidden in the folds of a charcoal shawl, she looked as severe as Hades-bound Persephone.

“It’s true,” Memnon said. “Alexander is fifty miles distant. We’re ill prepared to face him, so we’re pulling out of Ephesus. You and the girls will leave for Susa within the hour.”

“Where will you go?”

“Halicarnassus, to await the Great King’s decision.”

Barsine nodded. “We … we will be ready.” She turned and vanished into the house, leaving Memnon alone in the courtyard.

The Rhodian sighed and turned back to the map.
Make him waste his men’s lives …

 

T
O AVOID SPARKING A PANIC
, M
EMNON STAGGERED THEIR DEPARTURES
from the estate to the harbor. The Rhodian sent Khafre and his family first, in a wagon with only a few meager belongings; Cophen followed. Azanes, Mardius, and their
kardakes
split up and took back-routes, looking to the curious like reinforced patrols. Memnon came last.

The ship,
Hesione,
had a wide deck and two banks of oars to give it added power on days of unfavorable winds. “Keep an eye on the captain,” Memnon said to Khafre before he embarked. “And post your own lookout once you’re past Rhodes. That stretch of the Lycian coast is thick with pirates.”

“I will school them personally, Memnon,” the Egyptian said. “My friend, may Lord Osiris watch over you and shower you with his blessings.”

“And you, Khafre.” Memnon bid farewell to Azanes and Mardius, acknowledging each of their men as they filed aboard. Finally, Cophen came with the children.

“Ah, my Little Dove and my Little Sparrow,” Memnon said, kneeling. Both girls rushed to him and flung their arms around his neck. He kissed their cheeks, one then the other. “Obey your mother, and carry my love to your grandmother.”

“Will we see you again, Father?” Apame said, tears falling from her thick lashes.

“Of course you will, Little Sparrow! I’ll bring your horses to you in Susa next year and we can ride to Babylon, to see the Hanging Gardens.”

Artonis sobbed. “Promise?”

Memnon smiled and kissed her, again. “I promise. Now, go with Uncle Cophen.” Reluctantly, the girls disengaged themselves from Memnon and followed Cophen across the gangplank. The Rhodian stood, smiling despite the suppressed emotion trembling his lips, waving them on as if they were off on an afternoon’s adventure rather than a journey of many months.

He felt Barsine’s hand slip into his, turned.

“Is this truly for the best?”

“It is,” he replied. “You’ll be safe in Susa, I promise you. You’ll be with family, with your father and Deidamia, and you’ll want for nothing.”

“That is not true,” she raised his hand to her lips. “I will want for you.”

Memnon gathered her in his arms. “I love you.”

“My Odysseus,” she whispered through her tears. “My love, come for us! No matter what you must endure, no matter the cost, come for us, Memnon! And soon! Promise me!”

“You have my word,” he said, releasing her. “It’s time.” Memnon escorted her to the head of the gangplank, handed her down to Cophen. “Take care of yourself, lad, and watch over my most precious treasures.”

Cophen smiled. “Like they were my own, Uncle.”

With leaden steps, Memnon returned to the quay. Once clear, sailors drew the plank onboard, cast off the mooring ropes, and prodded
Hesione
away with punting poles. The captain bellowed for the rowers to “man the ash”; oars emerged from the ports, creaking as an
auletes
set the rhythm by piping a tune on his flute. The ship backed water. It spun away from the quay, putting its bow to the sea.

A sudden commotion in the stern caught the Rhodian’s eye. Barsine appeared at the railing. Wind tugged at strands of hair that escaped from beneath her shawl. She raised her fingers to her lips …

Memnon stood and watched, burning her image into his memory, until
Hesione
vanished around the headland. “Watch over them, Lord Poseidon. I beg of you,” he whispered. With a sigh, Memnon turned and left the harbor.

 

L
ONG SHADOWS STRIPED THE WALLS OF THE HOUSE BY THE TIME
M
EMNON
returned to the estate. On the portico, golden light filtered through the oak leaves that gave the place its name. A profound sense of emptiness struck him as he crossed the threshold; even the paving stones missed the sound of children playing, the soft tread of Barsine’s slippered feet.

Voices drew him to the courtyard, where he found Thymondas hunched over the map table. Nor was he alone. To Memnon’s surprise, Pharnabazus stood across from him. Though filthy from weeks of near-constant riding, the Persian flashed a triumphant smile upon seeing Memnon.

“I pray you bring good news,” the Rhodian said, his mood black.

Pharnabazus grabbed his arm. “His Majesty has made his decision, Uncle. Letters have gone out to every satrap and garrison left in the West.” “And?”

“On Father’s advice, the Great King has appointed you supreme commander of the Asian war, on land and sea! He bids you exterminate this Macedonian threat in whatever manner that you deem most expedient, no matter where it takes you. He asks only that you send Alexander to Susa in chains, if the opportunity arises.”

Thymondas grunted. “This changes things.”

“It gives us a much needed edge.” The Rhodian exhaled. He felt the fetters of subservience drop from his limbs.
This will be my war, my Egypt.
“Thymondas, you and I will leave before dawn. Pharnabazus, you’ll bring the fleet up from Egypt and Cyprus.”

“How many vessels?”

“All of them!” Memnon snarled. “It’s time we taught Alexander a lesson!”