Babylon, p.1
Babylon, page 1
Robert Fabbri read Drama and Theatre at London University and worked in film and TV for twenty-five years. He has a lifelong passion for ancient history, which inspired him to write the bestselling Vespasian series and the Alexander’s Legacy series. He lives in London and Berlin.
Also by Robert Fabbri
ALEXANDER’S LEGACY
TO THE STRONGEST
THE THREE PARADISES
AN EMPTY THRONE
ARCHIAS THE EXILE-HUNTER
THE ISSOS INCIDENT
THE SIEGE OF TYROS
THE VESPASIAN SERIES
TRIBUNE OF ROME
ROME’S EXECUTIONER
FALSE GOD OF ROME
ROME’S FALLEN EAGLE
MASTERS OF ROME
ROME’S LOST SON
THE FURIES OF ROME
ROME’S SACRED FLAME
EMPEROR OF ROME
MAGNUS AND THE CROSSROADS BROTHERHOOD
THE CROSSROADS BROTHERHOOD
THE RACING FACTIONS
THE DREAMS OF MORPHEUS
THE ALEXANDRIAN EMBASSY
THE IMPERIAL TRIUMPH
THE SUCCESSION
Also
ARMINIUS: LIMITS OF EMPIRE
First published in Great Britain in 2022 by Corvus, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.
Copyright © Robert Fabbri, 2022
Map and illustrations © Anja Müller
The moral right of Robert Fabbri to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Hardback ISBN: 978 1 83895 609 7
E-book ISBN: 978 1 83895 611 0
Corvus
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To my wife, Anja, with all my love.
A list of characters can be found on page 477.
SELEUKOS.
THE BULL-ELEPHANT.
‘GARROTTED?’ ‘Yes, sir, I saw the body.’ Seleukos squeezed his throat and winced as he digested the spy’s news. ‘That it should have come to this: Alexander’s generals executing each other as if they were common thieves or murderers.’ Rubbing the back of his thick neck, he shook his head; the spy made no comment. None of us deserve a slow death like that; not even a sly little Greek like Eumenes.
He walked to the window of his first-floor suite in the palace of Ataxerxes, a royal hunting lodge on the western bank of the Cheaspes River, and gazed across his siege lines towards Susa, on the far bank, set before the magnificence of the Zagros Mountains, verdant with forest and tipped by ice-laden peaks. With cool air and plentiful game, the city had always been a favourite of the old Persian Achaemenid dynasty and, as such, contained a royal treasury full of the bounty of the east. It was because of this fortune that Antigonos the One-Eyed had entrusted the siege of Susa to Seleukos six months previously, with inadequate resources. High were its walls, tall were its towers and bitter was its defence in the able hands of Xenophilus, the garrison commander and warden of the royal treasury. Curse the old cyclops for leaving me just two thousand men to take a city, knowing full well that it wasn’t enough, but what can I do? By executing Eumenes, Antigonos has just sent a loud message to anyone who thinks to stand against him. How can I retain Babylon now?
And that was the problem in which Seleukos had found himself: he had been set up to fail by the man whose ambition now drove him to possess the empire that Alexander had bequeathed to ‘the strongest’, neglecting to specify exactly who he meant.
In the aftermath of the great man’s death, his former bodyguards and senior generals had quickly disagreed upon who should command and stand regent for Alexander’s as yet unborn child. Matters had been further complicated by a faction within the army insisting that Alexander’s dim-witted half-brother, Philip, be made joint king, causing yet further rift – especially when Roxanna was delivered of a boy named after his father. Perdikkas, the senior bodyguard to whom Alexander had handed the Great Ring of Macedon as he uttered those fateful words, tried but failed to assert his leadership in the name of the kings, and was dead within two years – indeed, Seleukos had been one of the three to wield the assassin’s blade.
It had been Eumenes, Alexander’s former secretary, a Greek among Macedonians, ever loyal to the Argead royal house, for the favour he had been shown by Alexander and his father, Philip, before him, who had fought to keep the empire entire for their line. The sly little Greek had battled with Antipatros, the eighty-year-old regent of Macedon, as he had attempted to take power on Perdikkas’ death. However, during this struggle, Krateros, the darling of the army and Macedon’s greatest living general, had been killed; Eumenes had been held responsible, outlawed and condemned to death by the army assembly.
At a conference at The Three Paradises, a royal hunting park in the hills above Berytus in Phoenicia, Antipatros had made a settlement, distributing military commands and satrapies – including making Seleukos the satrap of Babylonia. However, the agreement could be but temporary, for it failed to address just where power lay: was the empire subject to Macedon or was the home-country an equal part of that empire? And, besides, the satrap of Egypt, Ptolemy – reputed to be the bastard half-brother of Alexander – had refused to attend thus signalling that he considered himself independent; the empire had already started to disintegrate.
Antipatros too had died, grieving for his young son, Iollas, killed in a skirmish with Eumenes, leaving Antigonos untrammelled to make his claim for empire; a claim that Seleukos had supported – albeit reluctantly – for he could not bring himself to join with Eumenes and take orders from a Greek. But Eumenes had resisted Antigonos to the last in the name of both the kings and then solely for the young son once Alexander’s mother, Olympias, had murdered the fool.
And now Eumenes was dead, defeated in battle and then executed by Antigonos, the satrap of Phrygia whom Alexander had left behind to complete the conquest of Anatolia as he marched on, south and then east, to steal an empire. But the man who had been almost forgotten by all as Alexander had led his army in glory to Egypt, Persis, Media, Bactria and even to India only to die in Babylon after ten years of conquest, had emerged from obscurity to become the main power now within the convulsing empire. Having, with his men, ships and gold, helped Kassandros, Antipatros’ eldest son, to install himself as ruler of Macedon, he had chased Eumenes east and there, at the battles of Paraetacene and Gabene, the issue had been decided. Although Seleukos was technically on the winning side he was uneasy: for he had Babylon and he wished to keep it but he suspected that Antigonos would take it from him and would use his failure at Susa as an excuse to do so. Having no army of his own he would be unable to prevent it.
He turned back to his spy, who, although not small, was a head shorter than Seleukos. ‘Where is Antigonos now?’
‘His army’s at Aspadana in Paraetacene. He went back to Media to have the treasury at Ecbatana emptied—’
‘Has he left Peithon as the satrap of Media?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it was wise to take the money from the treasury to prevent Peithon having another go at rebelling.’
‘Yes. Now he’s secured the treasury, Antigonos will soon be heading south from Aspadana with an army of sixty thousand – he signed on most of Eumenes’ men. He should be in Persepolis in under a moon.’ The man, in his mid-thirties and unshaven and unkempt from a month on the road, took a deep breath. ‘Antigonos also executed Eudamos, burned his body in a fire-pit and then threw Antigenes in alive.’
Seleukos gaped in alarm at the spy. ‘Alive?’
‘Yes, sir, I witnessed it; he did not die well.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t. What did he do with Teutamus, the joint commander of the Silver Shields?’
‘It was him who organised the exchange, Eumenes for the Silver Shields’ baggage that had been captured during the battle.’
‘And so Teutamus bought his life with that of his comrade, did he?’
‘It seems so; he’s now commanding Antigonos’ phalanx along with Pythan, another of Eumenes’ officers who was a part of his betrayal.’
It was to be expected, Eumenes’ Macedonian officers going against the sly little Greek in the end. ‘How did Antigonos kill Eudamos?’
‘Beheaded him.’
‘Well, at least he gave one fellow satrap the decency of a clean death; but burning Antigenes, Alexander’s appointment as commander of the Silver Shields, alive is unforgivable.’
It’s abundantly clear that Antigonos is not of a forgiving nature; I think I made a tactical mistake accusing him of dishonourable behaviour.
And that was the crux of Seleukos’ problem: he had objected to the way that Antigonos had tried to deceive Eumenes, tricking him into a position whereby he could massacre his entire army. Eumen es had not fallen for it, but for his temerity Seleukos had been sent back to Susa to be made a laughing stock.
He handed the spy a weighty purse, dismissing him with thanks before turning to the only other person in the room, sitting in shadows at the far end on a large divan surrounded by cushions.
‘Well, Apama, what do we do?’
His wife, recently arrived from Babylon now that the roads were opening up again after the winter, tapped the cushions next to her. ‘Come and sit down, my love; this will need a lot of thought.’
It was with exhausted bodies but clear heads that Seleukos and Apama, curled around each other, bathed in sweat, began to put some thought into the problem a good time later.
‘If Antigonos is going to be in Persepolis within the month then he could be here soon after the spring equinox,’ Apama, said, stroking her husband’s barrel chest, a major part of a physique that could be a model for a statue of Heracles. ‘If I understand the military position correctly, there is no way Susa could have fallen by then.’
‘On the contrary; it will be stronger.’
She looked up into his dark and intense eyes, either side of a thin but prominent nose bisecting an angular face. ‘How so?’
The eyes narrowed as his lips creased into a wry smile. ‘Spring is here. Antigonos didn’t leave me any cavalry – I specifically asked for five hundred – and without them I can’t patrol the surrounding area to catch the foraging parties that Xenophilus sends out at night. My two thousand men cannot seal the whole perimeter. Therefore, as food becomes more abundant Susa will grow in strength. Xenophilus has at least the same numbers as I do, so storming the walls is unrealistic. And even if I were successful, he would fall back on the fortified treasury complex on the acropolis which could hold out for a year or more.’
‘Mining?’
‘The foundations are very deep. We’ve sunk a few mines under them and then filled them with fire to burn away the wooden supports, but that’s done very little to weaken the walls above, even if we shoot heavy boulders at them all day long.’
‘Subterfuge?’
‘I don’t think they’ll fall for a Trojan Horse.’ He cupped her head in his bear’s paw of a hand; pulling her closer, he nuzzled her raven hair, savouring its scent as he had done since the first time he had experienced it. The daughter of the Sogdian noble Spitamenes, a great foe of Alexander, Apama had been one of the many Asian brides that Alexander had forced his officers to marry, here at Susa, almost eight years previously, in an attempt to meld east with west. Unlike many of his peers, Seleukos had not repudiated his wife upon Alexander’s death; he would not and could not for he loved his olive-skinned beauty with a force that was beyond physical. He could never tire of her and now that she had recently given him a second son, Archaeus, a brother for the seven-year-old Antiochus and their five-year-old daughter Apama, his urge to protect his growing family had strengthened. Thus it was imperative that he should find a way through the unfolding events that would secure his position as satrap of Babylonia.
‘Bribery?’ Apama asked.
Seleukos stirred out of his reverie. ‘What? No, I’ve tried it but Xenophilus has over twenty-five thousand talents in gold, silver and jewels; he’s promised that Eumenes will give a handsome reward when he comes to claim the treasure.’
‘But Eumenes isn’t coming now.’
‘No, he isn’t. But then Xenophilus will try to make the same promises to his men for when Antigonos comes.’ Seleukos rolled over onto his back, one arm behind his head.
Apama caressed his chest once more, pulling herself closer to him. ‘Do you think Antigonos will be in the sort of mood to reward the man who, last year, refused him access to the largest treasury in the east?’
‘That is just what I was starting to wonder. I was there when Antigonos demanded that Xenophilus open the gates. When he refused, Antigonos shouted that he had just signed his own death warrant.’
‘It seems to me that Eumenes’ execution could just have put you on the same side.’
‘In that we both want to protect ourselves from Antigonos?’
‘Yes, and the best way of doing that is?’
‘By giving him something he wants, and also turning his attention in another direction.’
‘I think you should go and talk to Xenophilus.’
‘I think you might be right.’
It was not without trepidation that Seleukos entered the besieged city to parley; his armed guard of eight men was a mere token force, easily overcome should treachery be on Xenophilus’ mind. Xenophilus had, unsurprisingly, refused to come out and Seleukos had not wished to shout up at the garrison commander standing upon the walls so that all would hear the very sensitive suggestion he wished to lay before his foe – a suggestion that would, if it came to Antigonos’ ears, be rendered obsolete.
The escort that led Seleukos and his guards through the narrow streets, climbing up to the acropolis, were, he noted immediately, smartly dressed, well fed and of a clean appearance; they did not look like men who had suffered a seven-month siege. Indeed, the city itself looked as if nothing was amiss: wooden shutters on windows – one of the first casualties from lack of fuel – were still in place, the local population were not emaciated and he saw a couple of dogs flitting though a side-street; he even noticed some cats sleeping in the sun, completely unafraid of ending the day in a cooking pot. We will never starve them out as it is and Xenophilus will be perfectly aware of that; he’ll believe that he has the upper hand. I think I’ll delay the news about Eumenes for a while; I’ll let him gloat and then bring him down to reality.
And it was with this tactic in mind that Seleukos was shown into the audience chamber in Darius’ palace on the acropolis; overbearing, with high windows letting in shafts of mote-filled sunlight to reflect off the glazed tiles, of rich blues, yellows and greens, covering both walls and floor. His footsteps, and those of his escort, echoed as he made his way to the solitary man waiting in the centre of the great chamber.
‘You need have no fears for your safety, Seleukos,’ Xenophilus said, as he greeted him. ‘If you are prepared to come here under such circumstances then I can only conclude that what you have to say is worth listening to without threat of violence. Please, sit.’ He indicated to a couple of chairs set on either side of a round table laid with wine and pastries.
I have no choice but to trust him. Seleukos turned to the commander of his guard. ‘Wait outside.’ He took a seat as his men stamped out; a slave poured wine and water into the two cups on the table and then scuttled out without being ordered.
‘Good,’ Xenophilus said with a smile, ‘we’re alone now.’
‘Eavesdroppers?’ Seleukos asked.
‘We’ll talk in hushed voices, but I think I can trust my people; after all, we’re still inside the walls and you are still outside them, as none has seen fit to open the gates to you.’
‘A reasonable point.’
‘And we’re all looking very well; I’ll think you’ll agree. I had your guide take you on a slightly circuitous route so that you would get a good idea of conditions in the city.’ Xenophilus, a balding man in his late forties and running to fat after ten years, since his appointment by Alexander as the garrison commander and warden of the royal treasury, raised his cup with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Your good health, Seleukos.’
Enjoy your gloating whilst it lasts. Seleukos returned the toast; the wine was of the finest quality.
‘Yes, we have almost everything we need in here,’ Xenophilus said, evidently reading the appreciation on his guest’s face. ‘Now what is it that you wish to say that you believe would tempt me out of this very comfortable billet?’
‘It’s not for me to tempt you out; it’s for you to decide that it would be in your best interests to leave.’
‘I agree; but only if I would be saving my own life would it be in my interests to go. At the moment I can’t see any threat; especially not from you, Seleukos, without wishing to cause offence.’
Seleukos raised his cup again. ‘None taken. No, I was never meant to be a threat to you; Antigonos saw to that by taking away most of my men when he went north. I was just here to keep you inside and then to be used as a scapegoat when he came back.’
