up the slopes of the Mycale headland. Stationed up there was a group of surveyors who were observing Nearchus’s fleet off to the north. They were equipped with a mirror-like polished shield for sending signals.
‘The King sends orders for this message to be sent without delay,’ he said, handing over the slate. ‘The Persian fleet is in the Gulf of Miletus – three hundred warships.’
The signalman studied the sky and saw a cloud advancing from the south, driven forwards by the wind. ‘I cannot send it just yet, we must wait for that cloud to pass by. Look, it’s blocking out the sun as we speak.’
‘Damnation!’ swore the horseman. ‘Why don’t you try with flags?’
‘They’re too far away,’ the signalman explained, ‘they wouldn’t be able to see us. We have to be patient – it won’t take long.’ Indeed, the shadow of the cloud now covered the headland, while the fleet proceeded in full sunlight, all lined up neatly behind Nearchus’s flagship.
The cloud seemed to stop moving completely and the fleet approached the western point of the headland and began moving out towards starboard, ready to round it.
Finally the sun reappeared from behind the last fringe of cloud and the surveyors straightaway began signalling. The message was transmitted almost immediately, but the fleet continued forwards towards the headland.
‘But have they seen us?’ asked the horseman.
‘I hope so,’ replied the signalman.
‘Then why don’t they stop?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Signal again then, quickly!’
The surveyors tried again.
‘By Zeus! Why don’t they respond?’
‘Because they can’t – they are in the shadow of the cloud now.’
The horseman bit his lip as he strode backwards and forwards. Occasionally he looked down towards the army and imagined the King’s humour at this moment.
‘Message received!’ exclaimed the signalman. ‘The flagship is lowering its sail and they are steering with their oars. They’ll reply soon.’
The flagship now continued at reduced speed and the foam generated by the oars could be seen clearly as the rowers guided the vessel to a sheltered area under the headland.
A light flashed from the bow and the signalman read out:
‘ “We . . . move landwards . . . landwards.” Excellent! They’ve understood. Quickly, go and report to the King. The sun is not with us for signalling from here.’
The horseman galloped off down the hill and reached the King, who had called a full meeting of his high command on the beach. ‘Sire! Nearchus has received the message and as I speak is manoeuvring the flagship,’ he announced as he leapt to the ground. ‘Any moment now you will see him round the headland.’
‘Very well,’ replied Alexander. ‘From this position we can also keep check on the movement of the Persian fleet.’
By that time the Great King’s enormous fleet had almost completely covered the area between the Miletus peninsula and the foothills of Mount Latmus, while on the other side Nearchus’s flagship was rounding Cape Mycale and coasted towards the mouth of the Meander, soon followed by the other ships in the allied navy.
‘Perhaps we have got away with it,’ said the King. ‘For the moment at least.’
‘Indeed,’ said Craterus, ‘if we hadn’t signalled the danger Nearchus would have ended up face to face with the Persians, obliged to engage with them from a situation of hopeless inferiority.’
‘And what is your plan now?’ asked Parmenion.
He had just finished speaking when one of the shields-men arrived with a dispatch. ‘There is news from Miletus, Sire.’
Alexander opened the message and read it.
Philotas, son of Parmenion, to Alexander, Hail!
The commander of the Miletus garrison, Eghesikratos, has had a change of heart and is no longer willing to open the gates of the city to you.
He has now put his faith in the protection of the Great King’s fleet.
Keep up your spirits and take good care.
‘It was
‘The King sends orders for this message to be sent without delay,’ he said, handing over the slate. ‘The Persian fleet is in the Gulf of Miletus – three hundred warships.’
The signalman studied the sky and saw a cloud advancing from the south, driven forwards by the wind. ‘I cannot send it just yet, we must wait for that cloud to pass by. Look, it’s blocking out the sun as we speak.’
‘Damnation!’ swore the horseman. ‘Why don’t you try with flags?’
‘They’re too far away,’ the signalman explained, ‘they wouldn’t be able to see us. We have to be patient – it won’t take long.’ Indeed, the shadow of the cloud now covered the headland, while the fleet proceeded in full sunlight, all lined up neatly behind Nearchus’s flagship.
The cloud seemed to stop moving completely and the fleet approached the western point of the headland and began moving out towards starboard, ready to round it.
Finally the sun reappeared from behind the last fringe of cloud and the surveyors straightaway began signalling. The message was transmitted almost immediately, but the fleet continued forwards towards the headland.
‘But have they seen us?’ asked the horseman.
‘I hope so,’ replied the signalman.
‘Then why don’t they stop?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Signal again then, quickly!’
The surveyors tried again.
‘By Zeus! Why don’t they respond?’
‘Because they can’t – they are in the shadow of the cloud now.’
The horseman bit his lip as he strode backwards and forwards. Occasionally he looked down towards the army and imagined the King’s humour at this moment.
‘Message received!’ exclaimed the signalman. ‘The flagship is lowering its sail and they are steering with their oars. They’ll reply soon.’
The flagship now continued at reduced speed and the foam generated by the oars could be seen clearly as the rowers guided the vessel to a sheltered area under the headland.
A light flashed from the bow and the signalman read out:
‘ “We . . . move landwards . . . landwards.” Excellent! They’ve understood. Quickly, go and report to the King. The sun is not with us for signalling from here.’
The horseman galloped off down the hill and reached the King, who had called a full meeting of his high command on the beach. ‘Sire! Nearchus has received the message and as I speak is manoeuvring the flagship,’ he announced as he leapt to the ground. ‘Any moment now you will see him round the headland.’
‘Very well,’ replied Alexander. ‘From this position we can also keep check on the movement of the Persian fleet.’
By that time the Great King’s enormous fleet had almost completely covered the area between the Miletus peninsula and the foothills of Mount Latmus, while on the other side Nearchus’s flagship was rounding Cape Mycale and coasted towards the mouth of the Meander, soon followed by the other ships in the allied navy.
‘Perhaps we have got away with it,’ said the King. ‘For the moment at least.’
‘Indeed,’ said Craterus, ‘if we hadn’t signalled the danger Nearchus would have ended up face to face with the Persians, obliged to engage with them from a situation of hopeless inferiority.’
‘And what is your plan now?’ asked Parmenion.
He had just finished speaking when one of the shields-men arrived with a dispatch. ‘There is news from Miletus, Sire.’
Alexander opened the message and read it.
Philotas, son of Parmenion, to Alexander, Hail!
The commander of the Miletus garrison, Eghesikratos, has had a change of heart and is no longer willing to open the gates of the city to you.
He has now put his faith in the protection of the Great King’s fleet.
Keep up your spirits and take good care.
‘It was
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