Alex slowly awoke back in his tent. Streaks of blue light faded in and out of his vision. It was as if his mind were halfway in this virtual reality and halfway in The New Reality’s innermost computer system. He took a deep breath and focused on the top of his tent, hoping to take control of his thoughts. His attempts were proving futile as his mind continued to drift further away from his current location.
An elderly man with a bowl knelt down next to him. Alex recognized that it was his personal physician, Philip, there to attend to his every medical need.
“Drink,” Philip insisted as he brought an ornate Persian bowel to his lips.
Alex took the bowl and slowly sipped it contents. A looming soldier standing behind Philip skeptically watched the transaction. In full body armor, a sword to his side and a bronze helmet in his hand, Parmenio glowered at the older physician with disdain. Whether his general was there to ensure that he was not poisoned by Philip or to execute him due to what appeared to be a continued illness, Alex wasn’t sure. What Alex did understand was that he needed to be outside leading his troops. If he lingered much longer in his tent, a challenger to the throne would soon come looking.
The blue streaks of light began to become much more vivid as Parmenio and Philip’s faces faded away. Though his body wanted to stand, his mind was irrevocably taking him somewhere else.
“Just give me one minute to close my eyes,” Alex finally conceded as he was immediately transported back to the Temple of Apollo at Didyma.
Again he found himself standing in front of its elaborately decorated massive door. Each of its carvings continued to glow and slightly levitate away from it upon his approach. This time Alex remembered where he’d previously seen similar carvings—Achilles’ shield.
Alex inspected each scene. Remembering the series of contrasts that were displayed on the shield such as war and peace along with work and play, he looked for the two carvings that were dichotomous to one another and exact replicas of what could be found on the ancient artifact.
There were at least 25 different scenes. Some obviously had never been etched on Achilles’ shield such as a Roman Emperor overseeing his army or a medieval knight on a horse. Others, though similar to the carvings on the shield, displayed nuances that made them recognizable forgeries.
Alex pointed to one of the scenes. His motion made the carving levitate further out from the door and follow his finger wherever he moved it.
So that’s how this riddle works.
Though delighted with his discovery, he knew that he needed to accomplish the task quickly and return to his men before an unwanted dagger would find its way to his chest.
Two carvings then piqued Alex’s interest. The first was a city at peace; its inhabitants celebrated a wedding with a grandiose feast. The other depicted a city preparing for battle as two armies stood poised around its walls, ready to attack.
With one hand Alex gestured to the city at peace and moved it to the top of the vacant circle in the center of the door. With his other hand, he positioned the scene of a city at war underneath it.
The two carvings began to shine brightly when adjoined while the other scenes faded away. The door then opened down its center, splitting the two carvings vertically in half.
Success!
Alex walked through the doorway and entered what he knew to be the temple’s cella. Supported by two large columns in front of him, it represented the furthest anyone other than the temple’s priests and oracles could precede. Many burning candles lined the passage while carvings of Apollo adorned the side walls. Alex wished he could stay and appreciate the beauty of this inner sanctum but knew time would not allow for such indulgences.
The space then opened up to a massive sunlit courtyard. Unlike most temples of the time, this inner sanctuary possessed no roof and was open to the environment. Alex walked between the columns and down a large staircase to enter the most sacred part of the temple known as the adyton. While statues of Apollo adorned the inner sanctuary’s perimeter, grass covered the floor and other statues and tress adorned the rest of the area.
It was like a Garden of Eden. Birds perching on the laurel trees sang, while a fresh flower aroma filled his nostrils. As Alex walked through the courtyard, he again marveled at its beauty and the minutia of detail that had gone into this virtual world.
As he approached each of the statues, they began to glow like the scenes on the temple’s door.
The riddle continues, Alex thought. What do I have to figure out next?
Whatever the riddle, he presumed the statues were somehow connected. But how?
At the back of the courtyard Alex noted what appeared to be a small inner shrine. In the shape of a traditional temple with columns along its front and a long triangular tympanum above the door, this building appeared as if it could only comfortably accommodate three to four people.
Alex walked over to the temple. Grabbing hold of the two handles on the door, he attempted to push and then pull it open. In the process, two small pedestals adjacent to each of his feet began to glow as he futilely attempted to enter the building.
Locked.
Alex looked over at the pedestals and realized that two of the glowing statues most likely needed to be placed there in order to gain entrance to the temple. He then backed away from the building, remembering the dichotomy of the shield and how he had solved the original riddle in order to enter this inner courtyard.
Which two statues are the right ones?
Walking up to the first statue, he noted it was of a man draped in a robe who held a bird in his right hand. Nothing at first struck him as odd or even unique about it. However, before he walked over to the next statue, Alex noticed the man’s face. Originally not taking note of its features, he quickly recognized it to be that of Albert Rosenberg.
He then briskly walked up to the other statues throughout the courtyard. Like the one of Albert, all had faces that were familiar to him. Whether of his father, grandfather, or different executives at The New Reality, they were all distinctly recognizable. There were even statues with his and Jules’ faces along with those of famous Roman Emperors and American Presidents.
Though at first it seemed somewhat comical, Alex realized that these faces were at the crux of the riddle. He continued to look around and consider which two statues were in sharp contrast with one another and would fit with this current scenario. Nothing struck him as the obvious choice.
I’ll just attempt as many as I can until I discover the correct combination, Alex finally concluded after no combination stood out for him.
Taking his best guess, he walked over to the statute of himself. The marble edifice glowed brighter as he raised his hand alongside of it. The statue then levitated over to one of the spots on the pedestal. Alex then did the same with the statue bearing Albert Rosenberg’s face.
Instead of the door opening, the two statues immediately evaporated and reappeared where they had originally been placed. In the process, the statues he currently stood next to began to glow much less intensely as result.
At first, Alex tried to convince himself they had not dimmed. But upon walking over to one of the statues, he noted that it had indeed slightly diminished in intensity. The consequence of his mistake became quickly evident. He had at best maybe two or possibly three more guesses left before he lost his only opportunity to open the temple’s door—and potentially uncover the lock.
Trial and error was obviously no longer an option.
Which two statues could they be?
Before Alex could decide, he awoke back in his tent. This time the transition was more abrupt and without any residual effects.
He conjectured that the connection with The New Reality’s computer system must have been somehow terminated. Whether it was a result of his mistake at the temple or due to the fact that his brain could no longer handle the duration of the mental connection, he could not say. The one thing he did know was that his troops awaited him, and if his presence was not made known immediately, his journey might come to an inauspicious end.
Feeling slightly rejuvenated, he stood up. Two of his female servants rushed to his side. One held a goblet and the other a damp towel. Instead of accepting the offer, Alex politely whisked them out of the tent. Rest was no longer an option.
He then began to don the ancient Macedonian armor lying next to the plush, red pillows on the floor. While keeping on his white tunic, he placed a thickly compacted linen corset known as a linothorax over his upper body. Used in the ancient times by the Macedonian and Greek armies, this form of armor provided excellent protection comparable to its metal counterparts but was less than half the weight, more flexible, and would generate much less heat when fighting under the Mediterranean sun. Beautifully decorated, the corset feathered out into long rectangular strips and extended halfway down to his thighs.
Wide straps that arose from the back of the corset were secured to its front by a sturdy leather rope wrapped around lion-shaped buttons. Silver embroidered shoulder pads with long strips of linen, secured parallel to one another, attached to both sides of these straps and protected Alex’s shoulders and upper arms. An intricate, silver lion’s head was sewn meticulously on the chest of the armor while red stripes on either side of the straps over his shoulders and around his abdomen completed the decorative design.
Alex then donned his final piece of body armor by tying around his waist a flappy, leather kilt, which also feathered out into rectangular strips that extended below his knees. Identifying himself as the king, Alex donned a red cape to let all soldiers in battle know they now faced Alexander the Great.
Once fully dressed, Alex suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of destiny fill his inner soul, making him shudder as he considered his true pedigree. It was as if the original Alexander was reaching out from the grave and embracing him for the first time as his true brother.
Adrenaline pumped through his body. Time to ride.
***
The Macedonian army kept a tight formation while marching northward along the Syrian coast. These journeys were usually a long and monotonous venture. Being that the entire army moved at a foot’s pace over different terrain, it took a protracted time to cover even a relatively short distance.
Alex rode atop his trusted black steed, Bucephalus. It was a beautiful horse that the original Alexander had personally trained during his adolescent years. Celebrated for its muscular build and agility on the battlefield, Bucephalus made an excellent fighting companion.
Riding from the rear of the army, Alex was accompanied by his personal Companion cavalry. Numbering roughly 2,000, these soldiers were the finest horsemen in the entire Macedonian army. Formed from many of Alexander’s boyhood friends and other soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle, they were considered the most elite military squad in the world at that time.
Alongside the Companions was an assortment of other multinational cavalry units, including the Macedonian, Thracians, Greeks, and Thessalonians. Together they composed another 4,000 men.
Marching directly ahead of him was the entire battalion of Macedonian pikemen. Alex stared in awe at the long lines of these soldiers as they marched in perfect sync with one another. Each carried a cornel wood lance nearly 18 feet in length by his side. Called sarissas by the Macedonians, these weapons were tipped with an iron blade and counter-weighted with a butt-spike on the opposite end, thus making them easier to wield in battle.
These soldiers would draw up the famed phalanx formation during battle. Some of the men wore bronze breastplates while others donned the usual thick leather corselet, which protected their entire torso. With a sword fastened to their side, a traditional Greek-inspired bronze helmet on their head, and carrying a large circular shield, they were equipped with the finest military gear of the day.
Leading the army were the Macedonian infantrymen. Equipped similarly as the pikemen, they instead wielded a thrusting spear that was both lighter and shorter than the long pike. Other soldiers, including the archers and skirmishers, along with horse-drawn wagons full of supplies also accompanied the journey.
Despite things not proceeding according to plan, Alex felt a hint of excitement as he envisioned the impending conflict. The thought of reliving the epic battle between Alexander the Great and the Persian king Darius did have its allure.
Parmenio rode his steed straight through the rows of soldiers directly toward Alex.
“King Alexander,” he announced, “sorry for the interruption.” He pulled his horse astride Bucephalus. “The scouts have just informed me that Darius, along with the entire Persian army, is much closer than expected.”
Alex kept his composure while listening to his trusted general. With his head forward and barely flinching to acknowledge Parmenio, he continued riding. Despite Alex’s nonchalant facade, he felt a sense of excitement surge through his body. Though he wanted to avoid all conflict and possible injury, he felt as if he needed to do this battle. It was as if he had been destined for this moment.
Although he and the original Alexander the Great were separated by 2,500 years, on a subatomic, quantum level the two souls were at one. Alex could almost hear him whispering both support and instructions into his ear.
Despite the excitement of the battle, Alex had not forgotten about the lock. He understood that if the opportunity arose either to enter battle or retrieve the lock, he would have to choose the lock.
“They have marched southwards along the Syrian coast,” added Parmenio, “and made camp just to the north of the Pinarus River.”
“You bring me good news, Parmenio,” responded Alex in a controlled tone. “The narrow battlefield should negate the Persian numerical superiority and make the fight a little more even. Darius appears to have underestimated the strength of our army.”
Turning toward Parmenio, Alex continued, “Make sure the scouts keep me abreast of any further movements by the Persian forces. That will be all.”
“As you wish, King Alexander.”
Alex kept quiet and maintained his stone-faced expression while Parmenio galloped off to the front of the formation to deliver the king’s message.
In less than an hour, trumpets began to blare in the distance, signaling to everyone that the Persian army had been spotted and Parmenio returned, ready for the next course of action.
Alexander turned to the generals now riding next to him. “Fellow Macedonians, it appears we have company.”
Persian soldiers filled the landscape stretching endlessly ahead of them. Like a vast sea of purple and gold extending from the Mediterranean Sea to their left to the mountains on their right, the Persian numbers appeared to rival those of the grains of sand on the shore.
Parmenio knew the Persians were renowned for the size of their army, but he was still impressed by the showing of soldiers before them. “Is it wise to seek a directed battle when our enemy’s numbers are so far superior to ours?” he asked. “Should we not wait till sundown, after our foes are fast asleep, to attack?”
“Parmenio!” exclaimed Alex. “I will not steal my victory under the cloak of darkness. Conquest must come with honor. No, my friend, we march on. Today is the day.”
As he grew closer to the Pinarus River separating the two armies, Alex experienced an eerie feeling of deja vu. Flashing back to dreams he’d had since a child, Alex realized that he had been here before. Memories from the past? A subconscious bond with the original Alexander the Great? There may never be answers to these questions, but one thing was sure: he was, indeed, Alexander the Great.
Despite Alex’s confidence, Parmenio was still wary of a head-on attack. Never before had the Macedonians faced such a sizable foe. His apprehension was not unique. The other generals riding alongside appeared equally concerned. Even Coenus, the most energetic of the bunch, looked dumbfounded thinking of the task before them.
“Should we halt our troops?” asked Parmenio cautiously. “It appears as if some of our enemy has taken a foothold south of the Pinarus and are awaiting our arrival.”
“These men pose us no immediate threat,” declared Alex. “Let us not falter in our movement. Parmenio, take yourself and the Macedonian cavalry ahead towards the seaside of the line. There you shall defend our left flank.”
“Yes, my king,” responded Parmenio with a little extra gusto as he signaled his men to follow.
Two thousand cavalrymen quickly departed toward the sea.
The Persians to the south of the river immediately took note of their approach. Surprised by this decisive move by the Macedonians, they at once began to organize into separate, discrete battalions.
“Craterus, my friend,” Alex yelled out to his general riding a few horses away, “Parmenio will not be able to hold our left flank alone. The enemy’s numbers are too great even for such brave warriors as them.”
Craterus drew his steed closer to Alex’s so that he might hear exactly what his king had to say. A simple miscommunication now could prove disastrous even before the battle had begun.
“Go forth with your infantrymen,” Alex continued, “and make haste with your movement. Parmenio will need both you and your men’s strength to bolster the left flank’s integrity.”
“Yes, my king.”
Taking about half of the heavy infantry soldiers with him, Craterus and his men marched at full pace over to the left wing to support Parmenio.
Seeing more of the Macedonians rapidly approaching, the Persians on the south end of the river had no other option but to withdraw back across the Pinarus. Without the support of the rest of the army, they certainly did not want to face the might of the entire Macedonian army alone.
The last two of the generals rode silently next to Alex, eagerly awaiting his orders. Philotas knew Alexander was not one who appreciated being disturbed. Thus, he remained quiet while expecting the call for action.
What are they trying to do? Alex asked himself as he surveyed the large mass of Persian soldiers pursed for battle. Where do they plan to attack?
Looking at the Persian army in its entirety, Alex tried to decide where their strengths and weakness lay. To win this battle while being at such a numerical disadvantage he would need to create the perfect mismatch in order to gain the upper hand. At a distance and without any means of magnification, it was difficult to ascertain any differences between the men.
Drawing closer, Alex observed that the cavalry and infantrymen who had just crossed the river and were amassing along the seaside of the Persian line appeared well disciplined, judging by the speed and efficiency of their movement. Logically, he deduced, they must be the strength of the Persian line, and if Darius planned to attack, I bet anything it would be with these men.
Luckily, Parmenio, along with the Macedonian cavalry and heavy infantry, were there for the onslaught. But would it be enough?
“Philotas,” said Alex, “take the rest of the cavalry, including the Companions, and make your way to our right flank. Bring with you the remaining heavy infantry troops and spread yourselves out until you reach the edge of the mountains.”
“Right away, Alexander!” replied Philotas.
Philotas darted off at full speed toward the army’s right flank. The rest of the cavalry, including the Companions, Thracians, Greeks, and Thessalonians, along with the remaining infantry, readily followed in a barrage of blaring horns.
Having the bulk of the cavalry on the right would provide us with a strong offensive force, but have I left our left flank unduly exposed against such a strong adversary?
Turning to his final general, Alex nodded. “Coenus, need I say any more? I think you know what needs to be done. Shore up that front line.”
Coenus nodded his head in acknowledgement. Shouting at the top of his lungs, he yelled, “Battle positions! Battle positions!”
In response to his cries, the pikemen immediately broke off into over a hundred separate battalions, each consisting of exactly 256 soldiers. Organizing themselves into a perfect square, they marched in a 16 by 16 man formation up to the river. Connecting Parmenio’s and Craterus’ forces on the left to Philotas’ men on the right, they completed the Macedonian front line of attack.
The battle lines were set.