Ghost on the Throne - James S. Romm [135]
The Shields had followed Eumenes for almost three years before the battle of Paraetacene, ever since Polyperchon first ordered them to do so. Their allegiance had withstood threats, bribes, and challenges, a striking example of constancy in a treacherous era. Some followed Eumenes out of reverence for the joint kings; others, because he paid well; others, because they thought he would win in the end and improve all their fortunes. But true loyalty was not among their motives. They revered no commander except the dead Alexander; indeed, they scorned others for failing to compare with him. Eumenes had resorted to flattery to control them, addressing them as “my protectors” and “the last hope for my survival,” and reminding them constantly of their glorious past. It was they who had made Alexander great, Eumenes told them. Above all he used the Alexander tent, the penumbra of the conqueror’s spiritual power, to bind their two senior officers, Antigenes and Teutamus, to his service.
By thus wheedling, fawning, and manipulating, Eumenes had retained the right, granted to him by Polyperchon, to lead the Silver Shields. But it was a strange sort of leadership, provisional and weak. It had to be reinforced by oaths of allegiance, administered by Eumenes to the Silver Shields at regular intervals. The bonds that tied Alexander’s greatest warriors to a Greek, a former bookkeeper, a man two decades their junior, were not adamantine. The bribes and threats of four Macedonian generals had thus far failed to break them. But the greatest of those, Antigonus One-eye, had not yet given up the attempt.
1. THE BATTLE OF GABENE (WINTER, EARLY 316 B.C.)
As he rested his army in Media, Antigonus looked back on the battle of Paraetacene with misgivings. He had been outfought and was now outnumbered as a result. His infantry phalanx had given way at its first contact with the Silver Shields and hereafter would be even more intimidated by them. Antigonus faced uncertain odds in another open-field battle—but perhaps that was a risk he didn’t have to run. He still had recourse to his favorite stratagem, already used against other foes to great effect: the surprise attack.
From Antigonus’ winter quarters to those of Eumenes was a march of almost a month through arable country but only nine days through a sulfurous wilderness where nothing grew or lived. No one could expect an army to come through that desert, and no one would expect an attack during winter, a piercingly cold season in these parts. Eumenes was so sure of his safety that he had divided his army into widely spaced camps stretching more than a hundred miles, as Antigonus had learned from his spies. If taken by surprise, the troops in these camps would never have time to combine forces. Unit by unit, they would surrender, until Eumenes, and his incomparable Silver Shields, could be ensnared.
Antigonus ordered the building of wooden casks and the gathering of ten days’ provision for the army. To avoid information leaks, he told his soldiers they were marching west to Armenia but then veered suddenly and led his men into the desert. His secret was then safe, since no spies or deserters could escape notice in an open, blasted plain. To further cloak his route, he ordered his troops to light campfires only by day, for the desert was surrounded by high hills from which night fires would easily be spotted. This order was obeyed for the first half of the march, but finally the troops could no longer stand the nighttime cold and cutting wind. Some of them kindled fires, and that gave their presence away.
From the distant mountains, herdsmen spotted strange lights in the desert and sent messengers