Chapter 3


    CITY OF THE DAMNED


    <hr>


    Ptolemy walked slowly around the remnants of what used to be the great city of Thebes. The devastation was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. Such agony, blood and despair. Even now, half a day after the defeat of the unified forces of the Greek City States outside the city walls, new flames erupted, engulfing whole districts. People were screaming, begging for their life. Soldiers, drunk from their recent victory were running around the city streets looting, killing, raping… They desecrated holy sites, defiled sacred grounds. Luckily, Apollo’s Temple was still standing. No Greek had the guts to go against Apollo. From the times of the Trojan War, the Greeks knew not to cross the God of Light. Who knows what he would do if he witnessed the destruction of his second most holy Temple, after Delphi?


    He kept walking through bloody corpses. Women were holding their dead children in their embrace, calling upon the Gods to return them to this life. Ptolemy shook his head? What was the point of the Gods resurrecting the dead children of Thebes?  So they could relive this hell on earth?


    He saw Hephaestion at the city gates, with a group of the Companions. The young general had rounded up a lot of Thebans, with the purpose of forcing them to dig and destroy the foundations of their walls. They were forced to obey, by Macedonian soldiers with whips in their hands. With tears in their eyes and blood on their chitons, from their butchered loved ones, they dug and dug. When they reached the foundations, Hephaestion forced them to destroy the stones with pickaxes. Ptolemy will never forget the sight of old men, women and even children being crushed by the same walls they thought would protect them. And the soldiers? The soldiers, with Hephaestion with them, were laughing and drinking, stepping over the corpses…


    He heard horse hooves behind him. He turned and saw Bucephalus, the magnificent horse of Alexander, covered in mud, blood and human entails. The rider, Alexander himself, was in a similar situation. What made Ptolemy really wonder, was his brother’s face. Stone cold, with no remorse or regret. He paid close attention to his eyes and he saw it again. While the one had its natural colour, the other bore the dark shade of Hades. Alexander saw him staring and moved on, leaving Ptolemy alone with his thoughts.


    “What have we unleashed…?”


    *


    The young demigod was still in the woods, hiding from the massive Macedonian forces. He just hoped that his men would pull through with his plan. After exactly two minutes, he approached the city. He was wearing a macedonian chiton, which he took from a runner of Alexander’s army the day before. The runner never woke up from his sleep. He also covered his face with a helmet. He walked through burned houses, butchered corpses with limbs and weapons lying around. All he could hear was the sounds of a dying city. He did his best not to attract attention. He even had to - he was looked upon with suspicion from a Macedonian soldier - remove a ring from the hand of a dead woman. Damn she was young. War is such a dirty business. He then made a small vow. He would keep the ring, only to offer it on her behalf to Charon, the ferryman, with a small sacrifice to him. After the officer had moved on, he did too. Not so long after, a group of soldiers seemed to call him.


    “Hey, Lysistratus, come join us!” they said, as they poured wine down their throats.


    He went on to say that they were mistaken but he stopped himself. These Macedonians recognised him as the runner, because they knew him from his helmet. Many soldiers had mass produced helmets from the armories but some (such us runners) could have theirs as custom made. The helmet he was wearing was probably from the latter case.


    Fuck, he thought, from all the soldiers around here, I had to come across the ones who knew this man.


    He pretended to be tired and pointed towards a large red tent.


    “Let him be Hippolitus. One must not make general Parmenion wait!” one of them said.


    Then they proceeded to loot the corpses. With the side of his eye he saw a soldier cut the hand of the fallen Theban to take his bracelet.


    “Bloody monsters…,” he cursed, but moved on.


    He reached the districts outside the Temple. There he had but one objective. Remove any and all dangers near Apollo’s Temple. As a son of Poseidon, he had plenty of privileges and powers. But as a man, he was disciplined and efficient. In a small frame of time he managed to kill twenty three men and hide the bodies. He did not harm the drunkards, or those sleeping. It was against his moral code to kill unarmed men. After he completed his part he proceeded into the Temple’s courtyard.


    The Warriors he sent, had cleared the court outside of the Temple. He saw to the west of the Temple his Rangers had already sneaked and taken out the sentries. And Achilles had cleared any enemies that could obstruct their rescue mission.That’s why he needed to send his men before him, entering from the back gate of Thebes. The majority of the army was still looting, so they did not have a serious opposition. They only needed to remain out of sight. Achilles slowly but surely approached the main door of the Temple, which was wide open. Only four Macedonians were keeping guard. He made a signal for another Argive, a Warrior, to approach. Achilles and the Warrior took a throwing dagger from their belts and kept it close to their chest.


    “On my mark…,” Achilles said.


    The two daggers flew directly on two necks. The two Macedonians that saw their companions grab their necks while choking on their own blood, went on to unsheathe their blades, but were too late. The Warrior grabbed the one and smashed his head on the ground and Achilles pierced the skull of the second with a spear. After that, he called on the two other Warriors, who were waiting outside and moved to the inner chamber. In there they came across an unsettling sight. The chamber had become a hospital, with soldiers, citizens and children lying on improvised beds. The stench was something else, but the priests who were tending to the wounded seemed only to care to ease the pain of those inflicted from the cruelty of war. The three Warriors turned to the expedition leader, Achilles.


    “What do we do?” asked one of the Warriors.


    “We do what we came here for,” he said clenching his fists.


    The Gods were truly cruel. He could tell that his men did not support his decision, but they had no other choice.


    “Who among you is the Elder High Priest of Apollo


    “It is I, son of Poseidon,” an old man with a long grey beard answered.


    He wore a simple orange chiton with a green cloak. He also kept a wooden cane. In the eyes of an ordinary man, he seemed like an ordinary old man. But Achilles knew never to underestimate a servant of the Gods.


    “You know me?” Achilles asked.


    “Your aura is very distinct,” the elder replied with a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”


    “I am here to escort you and your entourage to safety. It’s a direct order from Delphi”.


    The room became quiet. All these simple people in the room understood what Achilles said. He had to take the High Priest and the rest of the priesthood away. They would be left without care, possibly to die from the wounds, or worse, from the swords of the Macedonians. Many breathed heavily listening to those news, while others were sobbing uncontrollably. But most of them are discussing in a heated manner the cruelty of such an order.


    “What about these people? Who will tend to their needs?”


    For a moment the wailing and discussions stopped.


    “We are here for you,” Achilles said, cynically. “And only you. We have to get you to safety”.


    Before the old man could speak, some of the Warriors from Delphi, kind of forcefully picked up the old man, while forcing the rest of the priests to move on. The people were calling for them to come back, not to abandon them. Achilles nearly had to close his ears.


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    “Alright, let’s go. We must not linger in the city for long”.


    The group the Argives had to save were around twenty, but Achilles only had six Delphians on his disposal. Two were already busy carrying the elder, who kept shouting to be left behind.


    “My people are here, let me down!”


    These damn monks…, he thought. Not a hint of reason. But he did not have time to think about the elder. They had to move forward quickly.


    The Macedonians were in such disarray, that it was easy to repel any attacker that stood on their way out. The men from Delphi managed to do their job perfectly and got the priests out. As they were exiting through a destroyed section of the west side of the walls, Achilles turned around. A man on a black horse was looking at him from afar. He seemed important, because he had many horsemen surrounding him. Through the flames he could not see his characteristics. But he had an ominous feeling about this man.


    “We have to move quickly,” he ordered.


    But this internal feeling never came true. The man never ordered his men to chase after them. He was just staring at Achilles and his escort. The demigod gave it no second though and he took the priests and his men and moved as away from Thebes as possible. Soon they arrived on the clearing the Argives had camped last night. The Warriors left the old man to sit on a log, while the priests were tending to their wounds. The Delphians just wanted to rest. Achilles was the only one standing up. After a while, the elder got up and approached him.


    “We shall stay, son of the Sea” he declared. “We cannot leave while our people need us”.


    “Stubborn to the very end,” Achilles replied. “My mission was to escort you to safety, so on this part, my job is done”.


    He stopped to think.


    “At least remain here, until the main forces return to Macedonia. After all, right now, with so many soldiers in town, you would be cut down by the time you set foot in there”.


    “But how many more do you think will die from the Macedonian monsters? We must return now!”


    Achilles started to lose his temper.


    “You shall wait here or you will come with me. I am already disobeying orders by discussing that with you. So make your choice, or we are moving back to Delphi”.


    The elder of Apollo sighed with sadness, but shook his head in agreement.


    “We shall do as you ask, young one. And may Apollo protect us”.


    A small grin full of irony appeared on the lips of the demigod.


    “Let’s hope that your god will listen this time. Because clearly he abandoned you in your hour of need”.


    *


    The rushed arrival of Poseidon in Zeus'' palace was going to disrupt the peaceful afternoon of the King of the Gods. When the Lord of all Seas and Oceans stood before his older brother, he bowed with humility.


    “I bring word, brother mine,” he said, almost out of breath, something unusual for an Olympian. “Word from one of the cities of the mortals”.


    “Stand, Poseidon, stand,” Zeus smiled with affection, as he proceeded to hug his own flesh and ichor.


    “How are the seas these days?” he asked.


    At this moment Apollo appeared in the hall. The God of Prophecies bowed his head respectfully to the King of Olympus.


    “Apollo, my child, why are you here?”


    “Heeding the call from esteemed Poseidon”.


    Zeus’ gaze darkened, but he did not lose his composure.


    “What do you need from me?”


    From his tone, Poseidon understood that Zeus already knew of the situation he was about to present, but also that he did not wish to talk about it.


    “The city of Thebes, a place that Cadmus founded under the guidance of your son Apollo, was erased from the map. The conqueror Alexander from the Greek Kingdom of Macedonia is responsible for the massacre. We demand his punishment”.


    Zeus started walking up and down the throne room.


    “As I see it, Alexander responded to a hellenic rebellion against him. Thinking him young and inexperienced, a demagogue in Athens called for a coalition against him. Alexander marched to Thebes, destroyed the coalition army and burned the city. I don’t see why we should involve ourselves with human politics”.


    “He erased my city from the map!” Apollo erupted. “We slayed the people and destroyed everything. It is an unprecedented event in Hellenic history. Never a ruler erased a city from existence! Especially a city that was dedicated to a God!”


    Poseidon realized that Apollo’s burst would not help their case. He stepped in.


    “Brother, what if Alexander did that to Delphi? Would we remain neutral even then?”


    Zeus crossed his hands against his chest, anger evident on his face.


    “That’s a hypothetical scenario brother. I don’t take action without facts”.


    “We ordered the death of Alexander’s father for assuming too much power, didn’t we? Why are we making an exception for his son?” Poseidon pointed out.


    “You are wrong,” Zeus replied. “Phillip was killed for his blasphemy of equating himself with us”.


    “Oh, so we shall wait until Alexander proceeds to make that step? Shouldn’t we use precaution? After all he seems to possess even greater power than his father”.


    “Apollo,” Zeus turned to his son. “Is your temple still standing?”


    Apollo looked towards Poseidon. The God of the Sea understood what Zeus was trying to point out, but he didn’t intervene.


    “Yes, it is, father”.


    “So you are admitting that your Temple was spared by Alexander?”


    Poseidon was furious. His brother knew well who spared the Temple. Why was he attributing this action to Alexander?


    “The religious hierarchy was rescued by my son!” Poseidon shouted. “We don’t know if Alexander would have spared them!”


    “That is true father,” Apollo seconded.


    Zeus sighed with discomfort.


    “Is someone dead from your priests, Apollo?”


    “No. All are accounted for,” he answered timidly.


    “Then why are we still discussing this matter?”


    Poseidon exchanged a quick glance with Apollo. The latter just shrugged his shoulders.


    “If you have nothing else to add, you should leave. I need to be alone” Zeus said, in order to end the debate.


    Poseidon felt anger brew inside of him.


    “Why are you protecting him?” Poseidon demanded.


    Zeus had his back turned to him, to hide his sorrow from his brother. But he could not show weakness or vulnerability. Not again. He would not give another reason to Poseidon to defy his rule once more. His face hardened, as he clenched his fists. The sound of thunder tore through the sky.


    “You assume too much brother mine,” he said, as he turned to face him.


    “I assume nothing! I’m merely stating…” he went on to say, but the King of the Gods would not have it.


    “I will not accept orders from you!” he declared his voice deep, like all the thunderbolts of the world were in his reach.


    Zeus seemed ready to assume his divine form and strike both of these insolent gods, but he decided against it. Nothing would be achieved through violence. After all, he could see in the eyes of both his brother and son, Apollo, that his message was received.


    “Thebes was an unfortunate event, brother. Nothing else. Just a battle like all others. If we were to take action against all the rulers and conquerors on Gaia, then we should annihilate them all!”


    Poseidon shook his head.


    “I advise caution. You are the king and I accept your judgement”.


    He stood up ready to leave. Apollo followed him.


    “We can’t always protect our own, brother. Sometimes the Fates demand that,” Poseidon said, with his voice soft.


    The sound of thunder was heard once more, pointing to Zeus’ distaste for his brother’s comment.


    “Go back to your ocean, Poseidon. I will be the one to decide the Fate of this mortal King!”