One day, to pass the time and soothe my restless spirits, I found myself wandering here and there through the royal palace of Cilicia. Looking at the gentle rustle of the stream flowing through the courtyard, the lustrous cypress trees, and the elegant, stylish stone colonnade made of reddish sandstone and pale marble, one could easily tell that the master of this place was a man of refined culture and good taste.
Suddenly, I caught sight of a lone soldier lying on a couch in the shade of date palms and palm trees on a terrace facing the sea. On a nearby table sat half-eaten figs and plums. He seemed to be sleeping contentedly, bathed in the sea breeze blowing all the way from the distant Sahara and immersed in the swaying sound of the waves.
It was the King.
Thinking I should not disturb his rest, I turned to leave. At that moment, the King opened his eyes, gestured to me, and bade me sit on the edge nearby.
“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?”
“Nothing wrong with me.”
“I had heard that you went bathing in the Cydnus River—which flows through the city of Tarsus, fed by the snow-capped peaks of the Taurus Mountains even in midsummer—and that the water was so cold it gave you spasms and a high fever.”
The King let out a sudden burst of laughter.
“What an absurd rumor to be spreading. Ah, yes, I did go. I heard there was a scenic valley called Cydnus, so I visited it. The water at the base of the waterfall was so clear and beautiful that I dove in for a swim. And not just me—it’s the kind of place where anyone, child or adult, can’t help but jump in from atop the waterfall. It was certainly very cold mountain water, refreshing as well, but I merely caught a slight head cold. I don’t go to bed over something like that.”
“I also heard that Dareios bribed a physician to poison you under the guise of medicine. What kind of medicine was it?”
“I didn’t drink anything at all. It was just a feigned illness.”
“What? Feigning illness?”
“Indeed.”
“Why pretend to be sick?”
“Why? Wouldn’t you want to savor the late autumn in Cilicia, with all its scenic beauty? Let’s take it easy and spend the winter here this year.”
“I see… Is that so?”
“Listen to me, Eumenes. Things are different this year compared to last year.”
“In what way?”
“Last year, we had to spend the winter in Halicarnassus—a barren wilderness with no decent fields or pastures to speak of. We couldn’t secure enough food to feed the troops. Left with no choice, I placed a third of the army under Parmenion and stationed them in Sardis, while sending another third back to Greece. Even then, there wasn’t enough to eat. Because Memnon burned everything in his path, the army fell into a state of near-famine. Some men even claimed their horses had died just so they could eat them. I couldn’t go around punishing them recklessly. It was the commander’s fault—my fault—for failing to feed his men in the first place. It was like an octopus eating its own tentacles. It was clear we couldn’t go on like that for years after leaving Greece.”
I see. So the reason I was able to return to Athens last year was due to the food shortage in the first place.
The King continued, “However, Cilicia here is different. Compared to the rest of Anatolia, it yields an unbelievable abundance of wheat. This is a kingdom of wheat—likely the place where the most wheat is harvested in the entire world. Cattle and sheep are swarming everywhere. Having a few tens of thousands of us Macedonian soldiers freeloading off them won’t even make a dent. So letting the soldiers eat their fill here and gather their strength… that, too, is a strategy.
However, if we simply linger and stay stationed here without a reason, the Cilician plantation owners will resent it. They’ll be thinking, ‘Get out of here, you useless free-loaders.’ The soldiers will also gradually grow bored. Hot-headed men like Cleitus and Perdiccas will start getting restless. Even that earnest Ptolemy will start complaining, saying, ‘The soldiers’ fighting spirit will dull, Sire! They’ll gain fat on their bellies and thighs, making them useless when a battle actually comes!’
So, if the foolish King happens to catch a cold from bathing and gets bedridden—well, then we have a valid pretext to stay a while longer.”
“So you are feigning illness on purpose?”
“That’s right. Pretty clever idea, isn’t it?”