‘I see that you are a man of culture and wisdom,’ said the ambassador. ‘I can assure you that Athens respects such men – and desires only friendship with them. I shall send my report to the council immediately, and will return to you directly.’
Philip rose. ‘It has been a pleasant meeting, my dear Aischines. I hope you will join me tomorrow at the theatre; there is a new comedy I have been waiting to see. The players are Athenians and it would be an honour for them -and for me – if you would sit beside me.’
Aischines bowed.
Philip accompanied him back to the palace and then returned to his rooms, bis face darkening with fury. Nicanor was waiting for him.
‘It did not go well with the Athenian?’ asked his friend.
‘Well enough,’ snapped Philip, ‘but if I give away much more of Macedonia I shall be the ruler of three trees and a stagnant pool. Tell me something good, Nicanor. Cheer me!’
‘We have gathered almost 1,000 men from the remnants of the army. But morale is not good, Philip; we need a victory somewhere.’
‘Is the gold still getting through from Crousia?’
‘Some, but I think the governor is holding back, waiting to see who is likely to win. He may already be communicating with Cotys or Pausanius.’
‘Then we can hire no mercenaries. So be it. A victory, is it? You have spoken to the officers so, tell me, which of them has the belly I need?’
Nicanor leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. ‘Antipater is a good man. He kept his troops together well and they fought a tight retreat. I think he is respected. The others? There is no one special, Philip.’
‘Send him to me. Tonight!’
‘Who are we to fight?’
Philip laughed then and spread his hands. ‘The one thing we are not short of is enemies. But it will be the Paionians. What news of Parmenion?’
‘He won a battle for the Satrap of Cappadocia. He is in Susa, being honoured by the Great King. But we have got word to him. I must say though, Philip, I cannot see why he should come. He must be rich by now. Why would he return to Greece? What can we offer him?’
Philip shrugged. There was no answer to that.
And the thought depressed him.
*
The faint light of pre-dawn bathed the slopes of the low range of hills overlooking the River Axios as Nicanor gently shook Philip awake. The King groaned and sat up, pushing aside his blanket and stretching his back. Around him most of the 1,000 cavalrymen were still sleeping. Philip stood and rubbed warmth into his powerful arms, glancing up at the sentries on the ridge.
‘Any movement?’ he asked Nicanor.
‘No, sire.’
Philip lifted his bronze-reinforced leather breastplate and swung it into place, Nicanor adjusting the winged shoulder-guards and tying them securely. A black-bearded warrior walked through the gloom and bowed before the King.
‘The enemy have camped in a hollow about a mile from here, due north. I count they have almost twice our number: they were reinforced last night.’
Philip wanted to curse. Instead he grinned. ‘You have done well, Antipater. And do not concern yourself with the numbers. Just remember that we are Macedonian and that the King rides with you.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The man looked away. Philip guessed at his thoughts. Only weeks before, another King had probably said something remarkably similar – and that enterprise had ended in massacre and disaster.
‘I am not Perdiccas,’ said Philip softly. Antipater looked startled, but Philip thumped his shoulder and chuckled. ‘Now we cannot consider two defeats in so short a time, can we?’
Antipater smiled nervously, unsure how to take this curious man. ‘Do you wish to talk to the men, sire?’
‘No. Tell them I’ll give a victory speech later, and we’ll all get drunk.’
‘A speech before might bring better results,’ Nicanor advised.
Philip swung on him. ‘Perdiccas was a good speaker, is that not right, Antipater?’ The warrior nodded. ‘And did he not fill the men’s hearts with fire on the night before the battle?’