Ghost on the Throne - James S. Romm [79]
The hearse was built in the shape of a box, about twelve feet wide and eighteen feet long, with a barrel-vaulted roof. This roof was covered in gold plates overlapping like shingles, with precious stones set between them. At each of its corners stood a statue of Nike, the winged goddess personifying victory, also covered in gold. Atop its peak, fashioned from gold leaf, stood an enormous olive wreath, the crown of victory given at Greek athletic contests, glittering so brightly that observers compared it to a flash of lightning.
The roof of the chamber was supported by golden columns in imitation of a Greek temple, except that spaces between columns were not left open but bridged by a meshwork of golden ropes. Each column had a bas-relief acanthus vine climbing up it. Atop this colonnade, where a Greek temple might carry a sculptural frieze, four painted panels displayed the military might Alexander had wielded in life. One portrayed ships ready for combat; another, a squad of cavalry waiting to charge; a third, elephants clad in war gear, leading an infantry phalanx. The fourth panel showed Alexander himself, seated in a chariot ornamented with bas-relief, holding a scepter and surrounded by attendants and honor guards.
Alexander’s funeral cart. A model built by the archaeologist Stella Miller-Collett based on the description by Diodorus (Illustration credit 6.1)
Under this image of Alexander, at the rear wall of the chamber, a doorway opened. Golden lions sat on either side, their heads turned as though to watch those entering. Who, if anyone, was allowed inside the hearse at its stopping points has not been recorded, but the space could not have admitted many. Perhaps only the Macedonian elite, the satraps and garrison commanders in each western province, went inside to commune once more with their former commander. Certainly it would have elevated their stature to enter the chamber and stand beside the casket, while their subjects watched from outside, peering through the veil of golden netting.
Below the main chamber, the undercarriage was fitted with a sophisticated suspension system to absorb the shocks of the road. Axles extended out to four iron-rimmed wheels with golden spokes and, at each hub, a golden lion’s head holding a spear between its teeth. Four great bells hung from ropes at the cart’s four corners, so that its motion created a tremendous sound, broadcasting its approach to the villages of Asia. At the front the cart was fitted with four poles, and to each pole were tied four teams of four mules, sixty-four animals in all, each with a golden crown, two gold bells hanging from its headpiece, and a gold collar set with precious stones.
Accompanying the cart on its journey was an escort of soldiers, engineers, and a road crew, to smooth its path and keep it from harm. The way was long from Babylon to the Hellespont, and then to Aegae in Macedonia, the burial ground of the Argead kings. This was where Perdiccas had instructed Arrhidaeus to bring the magnificent hearse, bedecked with a sizable portion of the empire’s wealth. But soon after the convoy left Babylon, it became clear to Perdiccas that something was wrong. Either Arrhidaeus had left too soon, before Perdiccas was ready to lead the funeral procession, or he was headed in the wrong direction, or both. Sensing betrayal, Perdiccas sent a contingent of troops to bring Arrhidaeus into compliance.
These agents caught up with the funeral train in Syria but were confronted there by another armed squadron—one arriving, quite unexpectedly, from Egypt.
Ptolemy had made his move. In a hijacking that was no doubt coordinated with the leaders of the convoy, he seized control of Alexander’s corpse, the most potent political symbol on any of the three continents, and brought it to his own province, Egypt, for burial. It was a brazen bid to steal power from Perdiccas and amass it for himself. Ptolemy would add to his collection of Alexander memorabilia—the coins he had minted, the historical memoir he may already have begun to write—the