The Story Begins
Introduction
The following story is an ongoing project written by Jim McNally, the designer of Hegemony: Philip of Macedon. Please let us know what you think by posting in our forums. We also have a printable copy of this story available here. Enjoy!
Chapter One: The Companions
The Reconnaissance
With dusk rapidly approaching, the group of companions stands quietly, silhouetted against the forested slope. All eyes survey northward to the valley of the River Strymon. Their leader, Philip, focuses his study on the open fields extending below where the great river, having cracked its way though the mountain barrier at Heraklea Sintike, swells its banks into lake form before continuing its southeastward flow to Amphipolis and the Aegean Sea.
The companions remain alert while expressing the relaxed ease of fast friends, growing up together as they did in the royal court of Macedon. Philip’s indomitable right hand, Parmenion, breaks the silence; “Reports make this their point of crossing.” A true and steady friend, Parmenion understands Philip’s strategic intentions and can be relied upon to act accordingly. In battle, he knows when to hold back, when to strike out and when to pursue. Parmenion is the most able of Philip's subordinate generals.
“True, but will they appear again?” questions Craterus, concerned mostly with events within reach of his spear. Philip keeps Craterus close by his side, knowing his battle skills and bravery to be unmatched. The infectiousness of bravery has turned the tide of many a battle.
“It’s not the best spot,” states Aristotle in his usual reasoned tone. “Thracian peltasts have been ravaging Lower Macedonia from the east, but this crossing is too vulnerable. They'd be safer crossing further north under the protection of the city. From there they could muster supply and sortie westward toward the Axios Valley.”
As children, Philip and Aristotle had ample opportunity to polish their rhetorical skills. Thanks to the presence of Aristotle’s father as Macedonian court physician, the boys would spar for hours, ablaze with grammar, dialect, logic and mathematics. With time, Aristotle embraced the path of the philosopher, while Philip remained grounded in pragmatic matters of state; weapons, battle, espionage and diplomacy.
Philip turns with a smile, “My dearest friends, of course they will be back. This may not be the safest route, but it is the shortest path to plunder these rich farmlands of Bisaltia.” With a slight nod of the head, Philip acknowledges Aristotle an intellectual equal. If this were but youthful rhetoric, Philip would retain the unfair advantage of having personally grilled a captured Thracian agent; one that he is convinced is not a plant. But, this is not rhetoric; this is war!
“The Thracian King Cetriporis enjoys only success and sends out one extra raiding party while preparing his full invasion force. Cetriporis means to seize Bisaltia just as the crops come ripe for the harvest.” Philip pauses to allow these strategic underpinnings to sink in, then continues with his evaluation, “His success also breeds contempt. Cetriporis dismisses this crossing as the small risk he must take to catch the harvest. To add further to our fortune, his men also mark us easy and become complacent. It is this very complacency that we shall turn to our advantage.”
Although Aristotle’s life is not that of the warrior, he follows Philip’s reasoning and smiling, nods in agreement. But, time is pressing and Aristotle has plans to visit Plato in Athens. Aristotle thanks Philip for the escort and with a respectful gesture, turns southward for his home in Stagiera. Although now a member of the Chalcidian League, Stagiera remains one of many ports soon to be frequented by Athenian bound grain ships, providing a travel window that will close when winter storms clamp down on maritime trade.
Having seen Aristotle safely on his way, Antipater swings back and begins shaking his head slowly from side to side. With ever-calculating precision, Antipater cautiously interjects, “How is this to our advantage? We have but three hundred men and the latest incursion is reported as twenty five hundred.” Antipater can be counted on to question the logic of all decisions. This would be annoying to Philip if it were not for Antipater’s impeccable analysis, efficient logistics and quirky tendency to turn bear once engaged in battle.
“You’ll see,” commands Philip as he turns in the fading light to prepare for rest. “We break camp when the moon is high.”
Philip possesses an acute appreciation of the strategic principles at stake. With war the accepted norm between States, raiding remains the best probe of strength. The problem isn't the individual raid, but how easily an unchecked tip-of-the-balance can provoke a full-scale invasion, such as occurred a mere eight years back when Olynthus mobilized ten thousand Chalcidian League hoplites and sacked the Macedonian capital of Pella. Philip, now twenty, recalls how Thebes intervened to restore the balance. One consequence of that intervention was that Philip was forced to spend two years as a guest in Thebes, in the time-honored tradition of stability through hostages. And although Philip gleaned much knowledge from his time in Thebes, he has no intention of allowing such situations to repeat themselves.
The Dawn Surprise
As the moon passes its zenith a solitary owl detects a slight stir as three hundred companions slip from their hillside perch. Like a still breeze they begin their silent ride down to the river. Concealed and insulated beneath versatile woolen cloaks, each companion is bent forward to spread his weight evenly over the back of his horse. Each horse wears a simple saddlecloth, girth strap and reins, while each man wears a thin bronze breastplate, helmet and greaves, and carries a fourteen-foot lance, small shield and short sword. Helmet plumes will be bared in battle to identify friend and frighten foe.
These are the elite Companion Cavalry of the Kingdom of Macedon.
The Companions approach the river from the south. From the dark air, the misty spirit of the Strymon rises coolly to greet them. The stillness is palpable. Then, through the muffle of dampness, a march of peltasts can be heard from the far bank. Louder and louder, they approach; confidently unaware of what awaits them.
Antigonus reins in close to Philip and whispers, “I make out fifteen hundred peltasts divided into three brigades.”
Philip chuckles to himself, “Antigonus has ears like a bat and eyes like a hawk. His reconnaissance is flawless.” Philip turns and whispers back, “A night crossing would frighten his men, so Cetriporis will have given orders to cross the Strymon at dawn.”
Concealed by low light and light foliage, the Companions reach the crossing ahead of the peltasts. Philip summons his captains to join him and leads off with the central premise, "Although they outnumber us five to one, I trust they’ll make the fateful mistake of not scouting ahead before crossing." Philip continues by outlining the tactics for the day while extolling the virtues of his men.
Little time passes before a loud splashing of peltasts marks the first glow of dawn. In response, Philip eases his mount to a point near the edge of the clearing and silently makes a series of signals with his left hand. The signal passes through the ranks like the turn of a flight of birds and with the precision gained through repeated practice; the Companions quietly form a wedge, Philip at the apex. No scouts are seen. The trap is set.
Moments later the first brigade of peltasts clears the river, haphazardly shaking down the wet while laughing praises at good fortunes crossing. Philip raises his hand again and the wedge of Companions springs to life in a silent charge aimed at the head of the second brigade, just now reaching the bank.
The gap between cavalry and peltast is all but closed when a voice yells out in fearful surprise. The charge of Companions has been spotted. Philip switches to signal shouts. With cloaks thrown back and plumes flying high, stealth is abandoned in favor of clanking metal, a crescendo of war cries and the dramatic shaking of lances.
The first peltasts have seen fate's lance too late. Confronted with an attack of Companion Cavalry, they pause but a moment before scattering to flee.
The next shout signals the forthcoming impact. Each Companion crouches forward; free hand cradled around his horse’s neck. Correct use of this pullback grip will strengthen the blow of the lance, otherwise weakened by the absence of any form of stabilizing stirrup.
The second peltast brigade struggles franticly for shore as the right face of the Companion wedge slices obliquely across their front. Philip selects his target, feigns as if to pass by, then veering back, flicks the tip of his lance in a last second change in angle of attack as he strikes. The peltast, caught flatfooted, is unable to shield-deflect the blow. Philip drives lance into chest, piercing leather and flesh with a dampening force that compels him to pull up short. The smooth taper from shaft through lance-tip allows Philip to yank back hard, extracting the lance in a gush of blood and air. He’d rather not be forced to drop his lance this early in battle.
A lesser warrior might lose focus after this kill and become vulnerable. Philip reacts quickly and fluidly, crouching and spinning his horse to gain momentum. Spotting the peltast commander emerging from the river, Philip surges forward, ripping open the side of the commander’s neck with a powerful pass-through thrust of his lance.
With his enemy now leaderless, Philip makes a glancing assessment and shouts a fresh command code. Any Companion hearing this shout repeats it. In this way an order can be relayed as easily in battle as it would be on parade. This new command releases Parmenion and one hundred Companions to aggressively pursue and lance the first peltast brigade before they can stop and regroup. The remaining Companions stay with Philip and press the attack against the second peltast brigade.
The tactical timing is perfect. The first peltasts have fled and will be slaughtered. The second peltast brigade is caught in the river trap. Those that have reached the bank have been lanced. The remainder flounder and break, the current threatening to loosen their footing and drown them. The third peltast brigade remains neutralized by their position on the far bank. Any javelins they throw will barely clear the river and are more likely to kill friend than foe. The best they can do is to fight any attempt by the Companions to cross. Victory is complete.
From his position to Philip’s left, Craterus can be heard yelling, “Shall we cross and pursue?”
“No!” Philip shouts back, knowing that to cross the Strymon at this time would be to take a step too far. “Cetriporis will cancel his invasion plans, until time has passed or circumstances have shifted. We have accomplished our goal.”
This skirmish had done little to alter the fact that the Kingdom of Macedon remained in a tenuous state. Philip’s brother, King Perdiccas, had recently marched westward into Upper Macedonia to combat Bardylis, who was invading with a great force of Illyrians. In his effort to stop Bardylis, Perdiccas had levied troops from the entire Kingdom, trusting Philip with his small brigade of Companions, to deal with any incursions into Lower Macedonian.
“We’ll clean up here and make tracks for The Iron Gates.” commands Philip, “The Paeonians will be the next to receive our bloodying.”
The Iron Gates
The passage from the valley of the Strymon to the Axios River valley goes well. Philip patrols with a care that befits the endless vigilance and continuous enforcement required to maintain security and express sovereignty. Two small groups of bandits encountered below the south face of Mount Orbelus are dispatched with ease to the relief of the local inhabitants. Peacefulness has been restored, at least for a spell.
On the fifth day after their victory over the Thracians, Philip draws his men up to the east bank of the Axios. The cool clear waters of the river sparkle and beckon in the sunlight. Beyond the opposite bank, distant trails of late afternoon smoke laze skyward to mark the site of the Macedonian town of Edomene. Having made good time, the Companions are tired and eager to enter the town for a well-deserved feast.
Philip intends to cross the river before nightfall, but knowing the horses to be winded, orders the men to settle in for a meal. The ever-prudent Philip would arrive at the town late, refreshed and ready, rather than early, while hungry, exhausted and vulnerable.
Edomene is the first Macedonian town south of the long rocky gorge cut by the Axios as it cascades from Paeonia to Macedonia on its way to the Thermaic Gulf. The heavy flow of traffic, friend and foe, passing through this natural conduit, gives Edomene a strategic import that a town of this size would not otherwise enjoy. Philip expects to simply show the flag and respond to any adversities brought to his attention by the local watch and scouts, before carrying on with his plans.
Freshly fed and rested, Philip and his Companions cross the Axios and begin their evening approach to the town. After a short celebration in Edomene to bolster moral and restock supplies, Philip plans a reconnaissance in force upriver into lower Paeonia. Halfway up the river gorge is the prize Philip is after, an area of protective narrows known as the Iron Gates of the Axios. Philip will have a garrison of infantry fortify and occupy the Iron Gates, while he screens ahead into Paeonian territory.
But alas, the Fates have other plans for Philip.
“Something is wrong. Where is the outlying town guard?” Antigonus circles ahead of the group clearly agitated by the unexpected development of their approach.
Philip signals and the Companions shift to a canter. Philip wants to reach the town quickly but still rested enough for action.
Parmenion muses aloud, “Have we missed an attack by the Paeonians?”
Antipater counters, “Unlikely, given that the cooking fires burn as would be expected for this time of day.” Antipater turns toward Philip in anticipation.
Philip slowly draws out a “Yes", before continuing. "Assuming that the guards have drawn back to town, it has to be something serious and something that has just happened or is ongoing.” Philip signals Antigonus to race ahead with a pair of scouts. “We are in need of knowing!”
A clamor can be heard as they approach the town. It is the clamor of doom!
Antigonus wheels at the edge of town and racing back to the Companions shouts, “The King is dead, the army defeated!” Philip signals a shocked halt as Antigonus finishes, “Perdiccas and six thousand have been killed by the Illyrians. Bardylis remains in Upper Macedonia for now, but there is nothing stopping him from marching on Pella.”
Philip pauses, then with all eyes upon him shouts a statement of command, “We must save the Kingdom!”
“As Regent, I ride to the old capital of Aegeae to locate and secure Perdiccas’ infant son Amyntas.” Then turning to Parmenion, Philip orders, “Take the Companions to Pella, quell any riots and prepare what defenses you can. I will meet you there in good time.”
Philip turns and accompanied by his personal bodyguard, rides south, hard. Philip's intent is to ride through the night, bypass Pella and reach Aegeae by the following evening. Any feasting will have to wait.
Chapter Two: Save The Kingdom
Aegeae
To lose the King is to destabilize. To lose the army is to terrify.
Philip rides through the clamor of the night. Turmoil is everywhere. Like a beast caught off guard by a sudden mortal blow, the Kingdom of Macedon recoils in shock at the gravity of this unexpected loss.
The kingdom is weak from within and open to attack from without. The Illyrians can ravage Upper Macedonia and advance into Lower Macedonia unchecked. The Paeonians have free movement down the Axios valley. The Thracians, still poised to invade into Bisaltia, will quickly forget the bloodying given them by Philip and attack. The Chalcidian League will be mobilizing at Olynthus for their share of the spoils and Athens will be sending a fleet. All of these damage dealers will pounce on the added instability wrought by the prospect of an infant king and try to plant their respective puppets on the throne.
Enclosed by this aura of death and doom, Philip and his bodyguard ride on, passing to the northwest of Pella just as the distant glow of fire and chaos begins to emanate from the capital.
When early twilight beckons Apollo to light the skies, Philip pulls up for a moments rest. Turning reassuringly to Craterus, Philip says, “We must press forward. Parmenion and the Companions will stabilize the city. Pella can wait for my return.”
Antipater shifts uneasily, “The men would have you Regent in Pella, so why the urgent need to reach Aegeae?”
Philip turns back and states, “It will strengthen and legitimize my Regency with the entire populace.” “To save the kingdom from destruction, I will need the unquestioned loyalty of all the peoples of Macedon, not just my companions.” And without further comment, Philip turns and rides on, embracing the sullen with resolve.
All that day Philip rides south through flat farmland and field, reaching the north bank of the Haliacmon River with the evening light.
The Haliacmon flows northeast from Thessaly, taking a short northward twist before turning eastward to flow straight into the Thermaic Gulf. On the south bank, in the angle of this constricted bend in the river, is nestled the old capital of Aegeae.
The horizon to the south of Aegeae is dominated by the cloud-shrouded Mount Olympus, home of the Olympian Gods. Past Aegeae to the east, the coastal road is blocked by the Athenian controlled City-States of Methone and Pydna. The proximity of these external threats, coupled with the constrictive location and marginal farmland, prompted a prior King's decision to move the capital from Aegeae to Pella. Yet, almost in restitution, Aegeae remains the only walled city in the kingdom and the natural refuge of the Royal Court in difficult times. And these were rapidly becoming the most difficult of times.
Unlike at the Axios, there is no pause to freshen at this river crossing. Philip plunges ahead and approaches the gates of Aegeae. A short exchange of identifying calls follows as Philip enters Aegeae to a reception of deepening gloom. The future course of the kingdom will be defined by the next few hours.
Ever watchful, Philip gauges the condition and mood of the gathering crowd as he rides silently and slowly into the town square. Through the dust and fatigue, the murmur that permeates the air is a mixture of anguish and fear, undercut by a sense of surprise and a sliver of hope. “Philip has arrived!”
In keeping with his character, Philip has earned the respect of the people through initiative and courage. Philip constantly patrols the kingdom; hunting with, fighting for and learning about locations, the people and their concerns, all the while remaining prudently in the shadow of his brother the king. Philip’s intelligence, genuine interest and natural charisma endear him to most of those who come to know him.
Philip signals his bodyguard to halt and dismount in front of the council chambers. Apollophanes, an elder and confidant of the royal court, walks slowly down the steps of the chambers. He approaches with a strained decorum and then in recognition, collapses forward, greeting Philip with a desperate hug. “What are we to do?” He whispers. “It will take the strength of Hercules to overcome these events that beset us.”
To which Philip whispers back, “Then it is good that I am a direct descendant of Hercules through his son Temenus and that I have no plans that include failure.”
Philip holds Apollophanes tight a moment longer, to reassure, then steps back and calls out with a sweeping gesture. “As is my right, I call for an assembly of all those armed men of Macedon who are present here in Aegeae.”
All major decisions required an assembly or gathering of Macedones, the armed men of Macedonia. All Macedones had an equal opportunity to speak at an assembly. Thus it was that even the king had to convince the assembly that his position had merit and was a correct course of action. Following an open debate, all decisions or judgments were by acclamation and were final. In this way, although only a member of the extended royal family could be king, the king himself required a populist, democratic style of approval to be in power.
With the assembly gathered, Philip outlines his hopes, plans and expectations, all the while boosting moral by extolling the virtues of the people. In due course, Philip calls for the assembly to acclaim the infant Amyntas as King, then leads the men in the traditional rhythmic clashing of spear on shield.
During this assembly, the now infant King, rests quietly in his mother’s arms. Being too small to wear them, the Royal Robes are spread out before him in a fine slash of purple. The signet ring, the Royal Seal of Macedon, is placed on the bench to his right. The assembled Macedons take up positions around the King to protect him and then yell out the oath, “We vow to fight to the death to defend the king against his enemies!”
In the lull that follows, Philip steps up and picking up the Royal Seal to hold it aloft calls out, “Do all the assembled agree that I, Philip of Macedon, act for the King as his Regent.” In response to the positive reaction, Philip slips the ring on his finger, sanctifying his Regency.
As the newly acclaimed Regent, Philip faces what many perceive to be insurmountable obstacles. The Kingdom is caught in a perilous situation and the people are infected with an omnipotent gloom. Immediate action is required!
Philip launches into an eloquent speech explaining the gravity of the situation and deferring the customary feast that should be held in honor of the new king. The people are so spellbound by Philip's persuasive manner and detailed reasoning that they enthusiastically agree to follow him as he charts the future course of the kingdom.
Philip carries this enthusiasm with him as the assembly breaks up; the city now infused with an optimistic murmur.
Philip sets about the urgent task of shoring up the city's defenses. Walls are inspected, defensive plans detailed and the garrison brigade reviewed and reorganized. With the loyalty of Aegeae confirmed by deeds and newfound hope, Philip takes rest and prepares for his departure.
Archelaus
The next morning finds the newly buoyant spirit of Aegeae interrupted by a voice of dissent from the past. Philip's half-brother Archelaus has called an assembly of Macedons and is making his claim to the throne. Philip joins in, but maintains his silence, preferring to let the will of the people have its measure.
Archelaus has never shown himself to have any exceptional qualities and as a consequence, the assembly of Macedons hears very few arguments for Archelaus and many against him. Within a short time the assembly grows weary and tense, yet Archelaus makes one final plea, "As an older brother of Perdiccas, I claim the right to be King."
It seems that the prospect of Archelaus as king is much less inviting than the prospect of Philip as regent. The assembly of Macedons responds, "We, the gathered Macedons, affirm our allegiance to the infant King Amyntas IV with Philip as regent." With this statement, the assembly of Macedons rejects Archelaus’ claim and will undoubtedly shortly condemn Archelaus to death.
Philip acknowledges with a short passionate statement, and then in a quiet aside to Craterus admits, "Archelaus is but the weakest of those who would claim the throne."
Archelaus, understanding what will soon follow, makes a run for it.