Ghost on the Throne - James S. Romm [26]
The Macedonians did not customarily use embalming, an Egyptian and Babylonian practice, to treat their dead. It must have been Perdiccas who decided Alexander’s body should be emptied of organs and mummified, then placed in a golden casket filled with aromatics, so that all could continue to gaze upon their king without revulsion. He designated an officer named Arrhidaeus (a different person from Alexander’s half brother, now known by his new royal name, Philip) to oversee the construction of a magnificent hearse and to take charge of the desiccated corpse until this was built. Arrhidaeus was instructed to convey the corpse to its final destination, which was still at this point, evidently, Alexander’s chosen burial ground, the shrine of Ammon in Egypt.
For Perdiccas, the past week had been damaging but not hopelessly so. Meleager’s betrayal had caught him by surprise; he had misjudged the infantry leader, had thought him reliable and sound, indeed had sent him on the very mission that gave him control of a hostile army. Perdiccas had been watching his cavalry colleagues for disaffection, especially Ptolemy, and considering ways to deal with his absent rivals Craterus and Antipater. The rebellion of the infantry had blindsided him. But Perdiccas had quickly regained his balance. He had made the troops listen to him and accept his authority. And the other members of the high command had stuck by him; even his rival Ptolemy had remained loyal. The traditional hierarchy of the army had been restored.
The question now was how the mutineers, in particular Meleager, should be dealt with. The best model Perdiccas could look to for an answer was Alexander. Alexander too had been challenged, despite his godlike power. Men had refused to obey his orders, had stood up to him in front of others and even jeered at him. In every case, those men were now dead.
First had come Cleitus, the one they called Cleitus the Black, a nobleman and commander of high rank. He had saved Alexander’s life in the first battle against the Persians, cutting off the arm of an enemy swordsman just as it was about to strike the king’s head. Years later, when drunk at a banquet in Bactria (in what is now Uzbekistan), Cleitus had begun to grumble that Alexander owed not only his neck but also his conquests to the efforts of others; that he wore his borrowed glory too proudly, decking himself out like a Persian fop; that he was less of a man than his father, Philip. Alexander finally could take no more and reached for a weapon. The Bodyguards grabbed hold of the king and restrained him while Cleitus was hustled out of the banquet hall. But a few moments later, when the Bodyguards had relaxed their grip, Cleitus returned with more taunts on his lips. Alexander grabbed a sarissa and thrust its massive blade into Cleitus’ chest, killing him on the spot. It was a rash and unpremeditated murder but perhaps one Alexander did not regret.
Callisthenes was next, the Greek literary light who accompanied the army as court chronicler. Aristotle’s grandnephew, an esteemed intellectual, Callisthenes lent respectability to Alexander’s campaign, especially since he was usually eager to exalt it. But suddenly, about a year after Cleitus’ death, Callisthenes balked. In an impromptu speech he attacked an idea, floated by the king’s agents, that courtiers should bow down before Alexander as the Persians did before their monarchs. This was confusing man with god, Callisthenes asserted, and swapping limited monarchy for despotism. Alexander abandoned the bowing ritual but simmered over Callisthenes’ defiance. A few months later, when some of Callisthenes’ young admirers were found to have plotted against the king’s life, a snare was easily set. Callisthenes died horribly, either tortured and hanged, according to some sources, or imprisoned in a stinking cage and dragged about with the army until lice and disease did him in.
The last challenge to Alexander’s authority had been the most serious. In Opis, where Alexander