Suddenly, the guard’s whistle rang out from the watchtower. A herald rushed in to announce that a boat was crossing from the opposite bank.
Looking out, sure enough, several boat shapes were visible far across the river’s surface. These were not mere fishing boats; they were military vessels with perhaps twenty rowers. They appeared imposing, but seemingly unarmed. In all likelihood, they were envoys for a peace negotiation.
Guiding them to the landing stage, the group disembarked and was led to the open square established in the very center of our camp. The encircling soldiers were tense: some were napping arrows to their bows, others holding spears in hand, while horses remained saddled, ready to dash at any moment. Enveloped in this bloodthirsty atmosphere, the envoys appeared so terrified that they seemed incapable of uttering a word.
“Hephaestion. Who are these men?”
“I’ve no idea. Who knows.”
“You crossed to the other side and scouted, didn’t you?”
“We did, but this is the first time I’m seeing them.”
Even if they were to be presented to the King, someone first had to interrogate them to understand the situation. By my position, this was apparently my duty. Resigned to it, I addressed them.
“It is truly a scenic and beautiful place here. I myself wish I had been born and raised in such a place.”
They exchanged glances and smiled back awkwardly. I continued.
“I apologize for imposing ourselves on your land so suddenly with a great army, but the fact that you have come to visit us of your own accord suggests you already know who we are. Allow me to introduce us anew: we have come from the west of Asia, from Europe. Your suzerain, Persia, has already been destroyed by our Macedonia, and no longer possesses the power to govern Asia. We have come to take possession of the former territories of Persia as intact as possible. If you submit to us, we shall certainly do you no harm. We shall treat you as friends. We guarantee the preservation of the inhabitants and the town. You may continue to live keeping your customs as before.” This was the standard opening prologue that our Macedonian army delivered to barbarian tribes met for the first time. Whether the words were understood or not was of little consequence; the important fact was that we had politely notified the other party of the purpose of our visit.
Listening to their whispers, the sound did indeed resemble Persian, but I could not make it out. It seemed significantly accented, and it was useless for my poor conversation skills. I requested Vaxsharda, Amastrie’s father, to interpret.
Vaxsharda looked like a Persian royal, wearing a completely enclosing leather cap that held down his thick, lion’s mane-like hair. Below his cheeks, he sported a dense beard, not unlike King Sargon the Great. Although his features were intimidating, his two black eyes, buried like a bear’s in hair, were gentle. As he spoke gently in a deep, powerful voice, the man who appeared to be the eldest finally stepped forward to give an answer.
He looked like the Brahmin priests one occasionally sees in India. Shaven-headed and shorn of beard, he skillfully draped a single cloth around his body, yet he wore numerous necklaces, had pierced earlobes with earrings, burned incense, and wore a light touch of makeup.
“We thank you for your generosity. We have come from a town on the other bank of this Indus.”
“I am a retainer immediately attached to the King, by the name of Eumenes. Please let us hear your name.”
“This humble priest is named Ardhanara.”
“It is an Aryan-type name, like our own.” Vaxsharda whispered this into my ear.
“Is it a common name?”
“I would say so. Nara probably means man or male. It is commonly used in men’s names. If we interpret it by tracing back to Avesta, the common ancestral language of our Aryan people, we can roughly decipher it. In Avesta, aredha means half, and nairya means man.”
“So the ancient word aredha-nairya became accented and turned into Ardhanara.”
“Yes. In all probability, yes.”
“Half man, does that mean? A strange name. What does it mean? If half is human, what is the other half? A god, or a beast? Or a merman?”
“That much I do not know.”
“Ardhanara,” I motioned him to a couch, and I sat opposite him. “There are a few other things I wish to ask you. Please let us hear them at length. What is the name of your town?”
“Svastu. Situated on the border between Gandhara and Punjab, it is a town that has flourished since antiquity as a base for east-west trade, and this humble priest is its high priest.”
“So, you are that town’s ambassador, then.” Battles do not begin with a sudden blow. Most often, procedures like this are followed, envoys come and go from both sides, and if negotiations break down, only then does battle finally commence. One must not push with brute force. If a friendly relationship can be formed without fighting, that is of the same value as winning a battle. Therefore, be cautious. At first, you try to gauge the other side’s reaction bit by bit, revealing as little of your own hand as possible. Such negotiation is a job just as serious as battle. Having followed the campaign for a long time, I have gained a good deal of experience in such maneuvering and intend to be accustomed to it. “What race are the town’s inhabitants? Aryan, Persian? Or perhaps Scythian?”
Ardhanara smiled, wrinkling his whole face, and said:
“No, we are the descendants of Dionysus, and we are Greeks.”
“What! You claim to be our kinsmen, Greeks? Speak not such lies.”
“It is no lie. Svastu is a town founded by Dionysus long, long ago, and we have never once let its holy festival, the Dionysia, die out.”
“The Dionysia, you say. Could such a marvelous thing be possible? We must be the first Greeks to tread this land of India.”
“Your suspicion is perfectly reasonable, but I have merely stated the old, handed-down story exactly as it has been told in Svastu from of old.”
“Who is your king?”
“We have no king.”
“Then who governs and judges the people?”
“I, the high priest, administer them as a deputy of the god.”
“In other words, the ritual is the politics, and the high priest is the chief magistrate.”
“It could also be put that way.” Ardhanara once again grinned, wrinkling his forehead and cheeks. “I listen to the god’s oracle, and I govern and judge according to the god’s will.”
“You say interesting things.” Governing a country according to a god’s will. I have met such kings and rulers many times before. “A truly old-fashioned way. We Greeks, too, were long a society where religion and politics were unified before recorded history. However, is a god’s will not unknowable? Just how, exactly, does the god’s will become known to you?”
“Well now. What is it that you wish to ask this humble priest?”
“Namely, do you divining good and bad fortune by lots, or by some sign? Am I wrong?”
Ardhanara chuckled.
“You are mistaken. In Gandhara, the Brahmins perceive the divine will through meditation.”
“Meditation? Do you mean dream interpretation?”
“No. Meditation is not a dream. One simply makes the mind completely tranquil, and polishes the mind until it is as clear as a mirror. If one does that, the truth will naturally be reflected in the mind’s mirror.”
“Truth reflected in the mind’s mirror? And that reflected image is the divine intention.”
“Yes.”
“Does victory or loss in battle also reflect in the mind’s mirror?”
“No. The god of Gandhara does not teach such things.”
“Is that so? Is it not inconvenient?”
“Only what is right reflects in the mind’s mirror. Wicked, calamitous things make the mirror cloudy and do not reflect. Fortune or victory and loss are not truth, and so they do not reflect in the mind’s mirror.”
“Oh. Then how does one avoid clouding the mind’s mirror, and make it reflect what is right clearly?”
“One distances oneself from passion and lust, does not eat meat, does not drink wine, and also does not eat smelling herbs like garlic or leeks, but simply maintains the body pure and clean. That is the first step in maintaining the spirit pure and clean. If one continues such training, the mind is liberated from worldly passions, and gradually the mind becomes calm and clear like still water, and comes to reflect the truth.”
This was troublesome. I could not possibly imagine being able to do such training myself.
“Is that so. Then what does god teach you?”
“The god teaches the path of what one should do as a person, and how a person should live.”
“The path, hmm.”
“In your country, what does god teach you?”
“Well. In Greece, god teaches whether one should go to war. The god, by their own will, causes people to raise a war.”
“Do you mean a god begins a war?”
“Yes. Any war, if it is not a war begun by a god, cannot be called a legitimate war.”
“But is a war not something people begin?”
“It might be so, but if people began it arbitrarily, the soldiers would not follow, not even to throwing away their lives. So we make it a god’s command.”
“Hoh-hoh. That is an interesting way of thinking.”
“In ancient Greece, military expeditions were raised by gods, people joined the army by divine summons, in times of hardship they offered up their own child as a living sacrifice by an oracle, they appease the god, and won victory in battle. So I have heard.”
“A fearful god. A god of war?”
“Yes. One might say the Greek gods are, more or less, gods of war.”
“Even now, do you listen to a god’s will and go to war?”
I was slightly at a loss for words.
“For form’s sake, it is still so, but the current King decides everything for himself.”
“I see. Then the King himself judges all matters.”
“Of course. Same as Persia, the King rules the country. In the end, the King must decide everything.”
Ardhanara invited us to come along because they would hold an extraordinary Dionysia to welcome the guests who had come from far, far away from Dionysus’s ancestral land of Greece. While unable to dispel our suspicion, we led the advance party and entered Svastu. The town was in a state of great bustling, and furthermore, both men and women were half-naked, dancing as if in a frenzy. Ardhanara explained:
“Dionysus is a great liberator. During the Dionysia, no distinction is made between noblemen, commoners, and slaves; all drink wine, burn wood-incense, play music, dance dances, and play in a state of self-forgetfulness.”
“Vaxsharda. To me, this festival looks like a mere wicked religion of wine pools and meat forests.”
“It is not rare in this region. It strongly resembles the festival of Shiva.”
“Shiva? The main god of India? And is that a not a…?” I pointed at the papier-mâché symbols carried by the townspeople. I hear that even in Greek cities, there are places that carry a phallus in the festival of Dionysus.
“In this region, they are called Shiva-linga. The upper projection is called linga, a symbol of the male organ. The lower round saucer-like part is called yoni, a symbol of the female organ.”
“So, does that symbol represent the coupling of male and female? What on earth?”
“By no means can we show this to your daughter Amastrie.” As I said that, Vaxsharda let out a snorting laugh through his nose. “I see. I also have a feeling it resembles the Dionysia, but to me, this town of Svastu does not possibly look like a Greek town. It is surely a typical Aryan town. What do you think?”
“It is so. I do not understand Greek customs, but Svastu’s language, the names of mountains and rivers, and the inhabitants’ features all resemble my Persia. Persians and Indians were originally the same Aryans. There is no doubt that they are a race close to us.”
“Then, why do they try to deceive us?”
“I don’t know. However, look at that statue of the god. It has the form of a ram, and wears an a wreath on its head. It seems like a god of wine, a god of reproduction. My thought is that they are simply calling their god Bacchus or Dionysus so that it is easy for Greeks to understand.”
“Is that so?” Bacchus is another name for Dionysus, but he was originally a god worshipped by eastern heretics, and the myth that he traveled through Asia and reached Greece also remains. It might just accidentally contain some truth.
Svastu’s inhabitants were extremely friendly, and there seemed to be no sign of them doing us any particular harm.
The floating bridge required more than ten additional days to complete. Confirming the town’s disarmament, by the King’s command, the entire army crossed the floating bridge and occupied Svastu’s urban area.
The King halted the army in the outskirts of the town and immediately personally visited and worshipped at the temple built in the town’s center. The fact that it was stone-built is not unlike a Greek temple, but other than that, it is an alien form and coloring, not resembling one at all. Stone towers shaped like pointed bells surrounded a square, and a square altar was built in its center. Was the particularly large tower facing south their so-called Dionysus Mausoleum?
A single wild ox was led to the altar. It resembled the water buffaloes I had seen on the Nile, but its eye expression was gentler, and it was slenderer. Still, its body size was easily ten times a person’s. Its horns were slender and long, looking like they were crowning with a crescent moon, and not curving very much.
The King ascended to the altar holding a, and in a single blow cut through the ox’s thick neck, grasped its horns, and held it high. Blood trickled along the King’s arm, darkening and wetting his garment.
The King set the severed ox’s head on the altar facing the temple, and knelt down on the stone pavement and offered prayers to the god statue. Following that, a music troupe and contestants from among the Greek soldiers came forward to the front of the god, music and athletic offerings were dedicated, the sacrificial ox’s body was dismembered, and inner organs and limbs were roasted over the fire. Strange string sounds that could drive people’s minds crazy were played, and a glamorous banquet began. The King put the silver wine cup to his mouth only for form, called Ptolemy, and said:
“I leave the rest to you. I want to build a tent early and go to sleep.” With that, he handed the cup to Ptolemy and left the square.
Ptolemy, left behind, forced a wry smile. He is a noble landowner of Macedonia, slightly older than the King. He is an excellent, clear-headed commander, the King’s right-hand man, and also one of the few confidants who can speak plainly to the King. The King dislikes troublesome etiquette. When he has fulfilled his duty as king, he most often pushes the aftermath onto Ptolemy.
Ptolemy, in the King’s stead, sat in the throne, and while receiving wine poured into his cup from pitchers brought by female attendants one after another, began to attend to the crowding multitude. The King is a teetotaler, but Ptolemy is a heavy drinker. The King does not try much to interact with guests on a first meeting. Because he usually ends up having to accompany boring compliments or long spiels. But Ptolemy is social, not at all timid. So such a role indeed suits him. I, being of a disposition that cannot harmonize with such lively seats, followed the King.
The King, without fail, inspects for himself and decides the camping ground. The King never uses a temple or royal palace as lodging. It is to avoid buying the inhabitants’ antipathy.
In the meadowland on the town’s outskirts, many livestock—cattle, horses, and elephants—were pastured among sparsely standing poplars.
“Good, we will make it here.” When the King built his own tent, gradually soldiers also gathered, and began to pitch tents around it as they pleased. I also had a tent built for Amastrie and Apama.
The King grants an audience to Ardanara who visited the tent. In order to guide him into the presence, I peeked inside through a gap, and the King had already removed his tunic and face and hands were also clean, wrapped in a loose, thin silk chiton, enjoying a moment with Amastrie’s sister Raoxhuna on a couch.
“Let’s do it again tomorrow,” I said, catching Ardhanara’s sleeve and pulling, when,
“Is someone there? Pay me no mind.” Vaxsharda’s voice came from inside. Then, we walked up to the carpet’s edge.
“Svastu’s head, named Ardhanara.” So he personally named himself to the King.
“Ardhanara. I have already heard of you from Eumenes. Forgive me for imposing so bluntly. Treating rare guests must have been a great duty.”
“No. It is out of the question. Oh, King of the World. I deem it the extreme of honor to receive an opportunity to see your face at this time.”
“Ardhanara. I have heard that you people claim to be the descendants of our Dionysus. Is it true?”
“Yes. It is exactly as you say. Dionysus, campaigning as far as this India in Asia’s east, on returning again to Greece, thought to leave in this land those who were injured and aged, unable to withstand the long journey and military service. For that purpose, he built Svastu. It is so that Dionysus’s own honor is handed down and told to later ages for a long time. King. You also, on the way of campaign, established cities bearing the King’s honorable name in Syria, Egypt, Sogdia, and various other places in the world. You will decorate the world by your honorable name, show the world multi-great achievements surpassing Dionysus, and furthermore, will continue great deeds in the future. For us who align in Dionysus’s lineage same as the King, it is truly a matter of celebration.”
“Very well.” The King raised his hand as if to intercept Ardhanara who intended to keep talking indefinitely. “I have fully accepted the beautiful words. Then, what is your desire?”
“Yes. I am in awe. Concerning that, the townspeople of Svastu are cut off in the god’s eye, that you satisfy us as a people of free town, that is what we cut off in wishing.”
“Free town, ” which means “self-government”, you say. In other words, they are saying, we will return and yield, but exempt us from taxes and labor duties. Truly they are brazen fellows. Reprehensible. Forgetting that I was in the King’s presence, I gave a snort.
“Ardhanara, you fellow of empty words! While yielding and submitting without even crossing one battle, do you intend to refuse contribution? Furthermore, do you think to deceive and mock us by fabricating baseless empty stories such as that you yourselves are the descendants of our Greek god, Dionysus?”
The King, smiling pleasantly, raised his hand and restrained me.
“Eumenes. Stop the discourteous saying towards my guest. Ardhanara. Very well, I appoint you to be the Satrap of Gandhara. I wish you to become one of my good deputy officers. Also, as long as Gandhara’s capital Svastu continues to maintain Greek customs, I exempt its tax. If you understand, you may go down already. The talk is ended.”
“We deem it the extreme of joy cut off to receive such gracious clever consideration.”
I could not be convinced by any means, and I could not leave the throne.
“Eumenes. What is the matter, do you have something to say to me? I am tired from a long journey. I want to be relax with Raoxhuna alone.”
Raoxhuna’s chilly gaze pierced me.
“King. I am truly in awe while you are relaxing water-inless (privately), but it is said that not offering remonstrance to one’s lord is the greatest disloyalty. Therefore there may be misunderstandings, but there is one thing I wish to say.”
“The prologue is good, so talk briefly.”
“Yes, King, why, just now, did you award such multi-great honor and position to the Svastu’s head Ardhanara? Could it be that you cut off from believing his talk-theory?”
“I believed nothing Ardhanara said. Same as those boastful Celts and Scythians.”
“Does not appointing Satrap mean you trust him?”
“A Satrap is good if he serves as a Satrap. It is not said, that a white cat or black cat, a cat that catches mice is a good cat? A malicious but competent Satrap is better, than a narrow-minded but loyal subordinate.”
“Is that saying about me?”
“Don’t harbor strange suspicion, I did not say one word about you, Eumenes. Well, fine. I will chew it up and explain so you understand. Good, Ardhanara’s words encouraged not only me, but all the soldiers. In this land of Gandhara, Ardhanara’s words became good omen for all of us descendants of Dionysus. That man blessed my future at an exquisite timing. For a person leading an army, how thankfully it is. Eumenes. In my army, there should be a man resembling that Ardhanara well.”
“Well now. Who might that be.”
“It’s him. That bogus soothsayer.”
“Could it be, you mean Aristandros?”
“Yes, yes. That Aristandros. Even though not called from here, he comes intruding one by one, jabbering only things that no one can verify the truth or falsehood of, saying, this is a good omen, you were blessed by god, or this is a bad omen, you must not advance, trying to distort my military strategy. Divination is, after all, only at random. However, if divined, the soldier’s stomach sits. For that, I let the useless soothsayers eat food. Only that. But then, on only the one point of, oracles of gods by ancient-inherited manner came out like this, the sign is all that was guided and derived itself, must not mingle private emotion or subjectivity’, Oracles of gods? We are what? We aren’t King’s army? I wish you’d at least consider how I feel and show a little tact. When a prediction happens to come true, they boast, “See? It turned out exactly as I said”; but when it proves wrong, they resort to sophistry, claiming, “It failed because you didn’t follow my advice.”
“If you dislike Aristandros that much, why not simply dismiss him?”
“If he were any other soothsayer, it would be a simple matter. But with him, it is not possible. He has served our royal house since my father’s generation. When I was born, he read the signs, secured his position as my personal soothsayer right at that moment, and held onto it even after I ascended the throne. When I set out on this Persian expedition, he even followed me, all this vast distance, on his old legs mounted upon a donkey. He is an impossibly thick-skinned man. Moreover, he commands great respect among the soldiers; they trust him implicitly. Some even say they lack the courage to face the battlefield if they are not first divined by him. And so, in the end, I have never been able to cut him off.
“Compared to that Aristandros, Ardhanara is far, far more excellent. He is a man with whom one can speak sense. I am inclined to hire Ardhanara as our army’s soothsayer in Aristandros’s stead.
“Look here. This land of Asia is where civilization first flourished in the world. For thousands of years now, countless rulers have succeeded one another. In that process, the uncivilized barbarians have perished, and the lands are now inhabited only by city-dwelling peoples with an excellent understanding of how things work. The peoples of Asia feel nothing, even when ruled by foreign nations. They are vastly different from the Greeks. A Greek, whether facing another tribe or his own, refuses to be ruled by anyone other than himself. You are either the ruler who has won through battle, or the slave who has been defeated; there are only those two extremes. To a Greek, life is war and gambling. In other words, Greeks are barbarians of the frontier.
“In Asia, a ruler need only skillfully sit atop the various nations and peoples and reign over them. Ardhanara is the very sort of man suitable as a deputy officer to govern such Asian populaces. This town of Svastu must surely have worshipped Indra when the Aryans passed through, Marduk when the Assyrians visited, and bowed to Ahura Mazda when the Persian King ruled. Unless the people who live at this crossroads of foreigners did so, they could not survive. One might call that having no principles, but one cannot barter life for principles, can one?
“That fellow Ardhanara—even while shaking like a leaf, he at least did his negotiating as a true master. A deputy officer who is to govern a region as a representative of the inhabitants must be a shrewd fellow of that sort.
“To make use of them, we, too, must be magnanimous toward them. Do you not agree, Eumenes? I have no interest whether the town’s origin is a fraud. As for what kind of god they worship, I have no interest in that, either.”
I could only blush and cast my face down in silence. It was exactly as the King had said. I felt deeply ashamed of myself for having intruded upon his precious time with Lady Raoxhuna.