The Great King (60 page)

In the last two books, I’ve said that ‘
it is all in the Iliad
.’ I have enormous respect for the modern works of many historians, classical and modern. But they weren’t there. Homer and his associates – they were there.

I have seen war at sea– never the war of the oar and ram, but war. And when I read the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
, they cross the millennia and feel
true
. Not, perhaps, true about Troy. Or Harpies. But true about
war
. Homer did not love war. Achilles is not the best man in the
Iliad
. War is ugly.

Arimnestos of Plataea was a real man. I hope that I’ve done him justice.

On the first of April, 1990, I was in the back right seat of an S-3b Viking, flying a routine anti-submarine warfare flight off the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. But we were not just anywhere. We were off the coast of Turkey, and in one flight we passed Troy, or rather, Hisarlik, Anatolia. Later that afternoon, we passed down the coast of Lesbos and all along the coast of what Herodotus thought of as Asia. Back in my stateroom, on the top bunk (my bunk, as the most junior officer) was an open copy of the
Iliad
.

I will never forget that day, because there’s a picture on my wall of the
Sovremennyy
class destroyer
Okrylennyy
broadside on to the mock harpoon missile I fired on her from well over the horizon using our superb ISAR radar. Of course there was no Homeric deed of arms – the Cold War was dying, or even dead – but there was professional triumph in that hour and the photo of the ship, framed against the distant haze of the same coastline where Mykale and Troy were fought, will decorate my walls until my shade goes down to the underworld.

About the same time – perhaps a few months before, or a few months after – I read Steven Pressfield’s superb work
Gates of Fire
which remains, for me, the finest military novel of the Classical World in English. And it is with unaccustomed (you’re supposed to chuckle) humility that I set myself to cover the same ground. But from the inception of this idea as a serious book series, I knew that the Plataeans had not been at the Gates of Fire, but rather had been manning Athenian ships. And that idea fired me to research the Battle of Artemesium. And the more I read, the more I was convinced that it was at Artemesium and not at Thermopylae that the real battle happened.

The Great King
is a different book and I am perhaps a humbler man than when I wrote
Killer of Men.
First, I owe many different debts of gratitude to others for this book; to the Iranian men and women who run a local café and who have been tireless in their willingness to fetch me pictures of monuments, translate passages, and provide quips and quotes in Farsi. Without the folks at R Squared in Toronto, my Persians would be much more wooden!

First and foremost, I have to acknowledge the contribution of Nicolas Cioran, who cheerfully discussed Plataea’s odd status every day as we worked out in a gymnasium, and sometimes fought sword to sword. My trainer and constant sparring partner John Beck deserves my thanks – both for a vastly improved physique, and for helping give me a sense of what real training for a life of violence might have been like in the ancient world. And my partner in the re-invention of Ancient Greek xiphos fighting, Aurora Simmons, deserves at least equal thanks, as well as Chris Duffy, perhaps the best modern martial artist I know.

Among professional historians, I was assisted by Paul McDonnell-Staff and Paul Bardunias, by the entire brother and sisterhood of ‘Roman Army talk’ and the web community there, and by the staff of the
Royal Ontario Museum
(who possess and cheerfully shared the only surviving helmet attributable to the Battle of Marathon) as well as the staff of the
Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig
who possess the best preserved ancient aspis and provided me with superb photos to use in recreating it. I also received help from the library staff of the University of Toronto, where, when I’m rich enough, I’m a student, and from Toronto’s superb Metro Reference Library. I must add to that the University of Rochester Library (my alma mater) and the Art Gallery of Ontario. Every novelist needs to live in a city where universal access to JSTOR is free and on his library card. Finally, the staff of the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, Maryland – just across the street from my mother’s former apartment, conveniently – were cheerful and helpful, even when I came back to look at the same helmet for the sixth time.

Excellent as professional historians are – and my version of the Persian Wars owes a great deal to many of them, not least Hans Van Wees and Victor Davis Hanson – my greatest praise and thanks have to go to the amateur historians we call reenactors. Giannis Kadoglou of Thessoloniki volunteered to spend two full days driving around the Greek countryside, from Athens to Plataea and back, charming my five-year-old daughter and my wife while translating everything in sight and being as delighted with the ancient town of Plataea as I was myself. I met him on Roman Army talk, and this would be a very different book without his passion for the subject and relentless desire to correct my errors. He and I are now fast friends and I suspect my views on much of the Greek world reflect his views more than any other. Alongside Giannis go my other Greek friends, especially George Kafetsis and his partner Xsenia, who have theorized over wine, beer and ouzo, paced battlefields and shot bows.

But Giannis is hardly alone, and there is – literally – a phalanx of Greek reenactors who helped me. Here in my part of North America, we have a group called the Plataeans – this is, trust me, not a coincidence – and we work hard on recreating the very time period and city-state so prominent in these books, from weapons, armor, and combat to cooking, crafts, and dance. If the reader feels that these books put flesh and blood on the bare bone of history – in as much as I’ve succeeded in doing that – it is due to the efforts of the men and women who reenact with me and show me every time we’re together all the things I haven’t thought of – who do their own research, their own kit-building, and their own training. Thanks to all of you, Plataeans. And to all the other Ancient Greek reenactors who helped me find things, make things, or build things. I’d like to mention (especially) Craig and his partner Cherilyn at Manning Imperial in Australia.

Thanks are also due to the people of Lesvos and Athens and Plataea – I can’t name all of you, but I was entertained, informed, and supported constantly in three trips to Greece, and the person who I can name is Aliki Hamosfakidou of Dolphin Hellas Travel for her care, interest, and support through many hundreds of emails and some meetings.

Bill Massey, my editor at Orion, has done his usual excellent job and it is a better book for his work. Oh, and he found a lot of other errors, too, but let’s not mention them. I have had a few editors. Working with Bill is wonderful. Come on, authors – how many of you get to say that?

My agent, Shelley Power, contributed more directly to this book than to any other – first, as an agent, in all the usual ways, and then later, coming to Greece and taking part in all of the excitement of seeing Lesbos and Athens and taking us to Archaeon Gefsis, a restaurant that attempts to take the customer back to the ancient world. And then helping to plan and run the 2500th Battle of Marathon, and continuing as a reenactor of Ancient Greece. Thanks for everything, Shelley, and the agenting not the least!

Christine Szego and the staff and management of my local bookstore, Bakka-Phoenix of Toronto also deserve my thanks, as I tend to walk in and spout fifteen minutes worth of plot, character, dialogue, or just news – writing can be lonely work, and it is good to have people to talk to. And they throw a great book launch.

It is odd, isn’t it, that authors always save their families for last? Really, it’s the done thing. So I’ll do it, too, even though my wife should get mentioned at every stage – after all, she’s a reenactor, too, she had useful observations on all kinds of things we both read (Athenian textiles is what really comes to mind, though) and in addition, more than even Ms. Szego, Sarah has to listen to the endless enthusiasms I develop about history while writing (the words ‘Did you know’ probably cause her more horror than anything else you can think of.) My daughter, Beatrice, is also a reenactor, and her ability to portray the life of a real child is amazing. My father, Kenneth Cameron, taught me most of what I know about writing, and continues to provide excellent advice – and to listen to my complaints about the process which may be the greater service.

Having said all that, it’s hard to say what exactly I can lay claim to, if you like this book. I had a great deal of help, and I appreciate it. Thanks. And when you find mis-spelled words, sailing directions reversed, and historical errors – why, then you’ll know that I, too, had something to add. Because all the errors are solely mine.

Toronto, March, 2013

Christian Cameron is a writer and military historian,
and the author of
Alexander: God of War
as well as the acclaimed Tyrant and Long War series. He has a degree in Medieval History, and is a veteran of the United States Navy, where he served as both an aviator and an intelligence officer. He lives in Toronto where he writes full time. Visit his website at
www.hippeis.com
.

THE TYRANT SERIES

Tyrant

Tyrant: Storm of Arrows

Tyrant: Funeral Games

Tyrant: King of the Bosporus

Tyrant: Destroyer of Cities

THE KILLER OF MEN SERIES

Killer of Men

Marathon

Poseidon’s Spear

The Great King

OTHER NOVELS

Washington and Caesar

Alexander: God of War

The Ill-Made Knight

EBOOK EXCLUSIVES

Tom Swan and the Head of St George Parts One–Six