The Wars of Alexander's Successors, 323–281 BC

Bob Bennett, Mike Roberts

• Publisher: Pen & Sword Military
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9781526760746
• eBook ISBN: 9781848849266
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Greek Ancient History
• Index: History

This history of Ancient Greek warfare vividly chronicles the struggle for control of the Macedonian Empire, a fateful time of change in the Ancient World.
 
As the story goes, Alexander the Great decreed from his deathbed that his vast Macedonian Empire should go "to the strongest". What followed was an epic struggle between generals and governors for control of the territories. Most of these successors—known as the Diadochi—were consummate tacticians who learned the art of war from Alexander himself, or from his father, Philip. Few died a peaceful death and the last survivors were still leading their armies against each other well into their seventies.
 
These conflicts reshaped the ancient world from the Balkans to India. In two volumes, The Wars of Alexander's Successors presents this critical period of ancient warfare with all its colorful characters, epic battles, treachery and subterfuge. This first volume introduces the key personalities, including Antigonos "Monopthalmus" (the One-Eyed) and his son 'Demetrius 'Poliorcetes' (the Besieger), Seleucus 'Nicator' ('the Victorious') and Ptolemy "Soter" ("the Saviour"). It also gives a narrative of the causes and course of these wars from the death of Alexander to the Battle of Corupedium in 281 BC, when the last two original Diadochi faced each other one final time.

Chapter 1

Babylon

When they asked him to whom he bequeathed his kingdom, he answered ‘to the best man’, but added that he could already foresee great funeral games for himself provided by that issue.¹

Perdiccas was the most important Macedonian leader remaining at Babylon on the death of Alexander in June 323 BC. He had received the royal ring² from the conqueror on his death bed and his office as chiliarch implied that in the king’s absence he would command. In no sense was the reality of the post-Alexandrian world that simple; the source of his high position was the king and now he was no more. While Perdiccas might just be confident of maintaining his position at Babylon, two men, both of them miles away, had stronger claims on Alexander’s inheritance. Craterus, with his 10,000 veterans in Cilicia, could advance greater credentials for supreme command, and the affection in which he was held by the ordinary Macedonian soldiers made him a formidable rival. Even further away was Antipater, who overtopped them all in venerable service to the dynasty of Philip and Alexander. He governed the Macedonian homeland and the European provinces, his military resources were great and he was unlikely to take kindly to receiving orders from young men he had not seen for years.

Alexander left no heir when he died but one of his wives was six months pregnant, which only served to further complicate the situation. No absolute constitutional procedure existed to cover the problems that faced Perdiccas and the generals at Babylon, but traditions and hallowed custom constrained what the army would accept. Coups by strong men not directly in line for the throne were by no means uncommon in Macedonian history. Philip himself had taken the throne from his nephew this way and pretenders had proliferated at the beginning of the fourth century. But Alexander’s very success had made the magic legitimacy of his line so great that usurpation by even a princely claimant like Perdiccas was much more difficult, especially when there was a possibility of a male heir.

Alexander’s two wives were both Iranian. Roxanne was the daughter of Oxyartes, whom Alexander had overcome at the Sogdian rock, and Stateira was nothing less than the daughter of Darius himself. It was Roxanne who was pregnant and the unborn heir was an important factor in the deliberations at Babylon. Yet, legitimate heir or regent, the accession had to be ratified by the Macedonian people in assembly.

This caused problems, for the Macedonian empire now stretched from Epirus to the Oxus and an assembly of the people could have been held almost anywhere. In reality, it had to be held in Babylon, notwithstanding Craterus in Cilicia and Antipater in Macedonia. The power was with the bulk of the army in the East, which not surprisingly arrogated national authority to itself.

It is difficult to imagine a more highly charged gathering in the history of the ancient world than the one which Perdiccas now convened. It would decide the fate of the greatest empire the world had yet known, one that made the Egyptian, Hittite, Assyrian and Babylonian empires look puny and was larger even than the Persian empire at its greatest extent.

The assembly was held in one of the five great courtyards of the palace built over two centuries before by Nebuchadnezzar and surrounded by the fabulous Hanging Gardens. Nearby was the extraordinary Ishtar Gate, which now stands in the Pergamum Museum in Berlin. The colourful tiles of mythical animals which covered the gate would have decorated the walls all round the soldiers as they gathered for the assembly, only a few yards away from the throne room where their dead leader was lying in state in oriental splendour.³

As chiliarch, Perdiccas controlled the setting of the stage in the arena where the Macedonian officers and men now gradually congregated and he intended to use this advantage to effect. Ostentatiously on the rostrum he had arranged the robes, diadem and throne of Alexander and, to emphasise the continuity of power he claimed from the dead king - the royal ring was placed on the throne in clear view. Everything was arranged to reinforce the impression that he had received the mantle of power direct from Alexander’s hand. Perdiccas’ position ensured he was able to set the agenda and address the assembly first. Unfortunately, his proposals seemed indecisive and indecision was the last thing the army was prepared to tolerate. What he suggested was that they withhold an irrevocable decision on the succession until Roxanne’s child had been born and instead merely appoint an interim ruler. He outlined that the chosen man would become regent if the child was a boy and monarch if it was a girl. All this left far too much up in the air for the inclinations of the assembled soldiers and this initial over-elaboration from Perdiccas was, in part, responsible for the chaos that ensued over the next hours and days.⁴

Feeling that Perdiccas had lost the ear of the assembly, others now began to put forward their proposals. Nearchus, the Cretan admiral, author and boyhood friend of Alexander (just a few days before he had been reading his history to the dying king) suggested that there already existed a rightful heir in Heracles, Alexander’s son by Barsine. Barsine had been Memnon of Rhodes’ widow and had borne Alexander a son who was not, however, acknowledged as legitimate. This idea was greeted with a cacophony as the assembled soldiers beat their spears against their shields, the traditional Macedonian way of expressing disapproval. Their opposition is not hard to understand; here was this Greek telling Macedonians to acclaim a half-Persian bastard as king. Not only this but the Greek’s self seeking was transparent. He had married the half-sister of Heracles at Susa and clearly had ambitions to be the power behind the throne.

Next to address the boisterous and confused gathering was Ptolemy, who argued that, as no one person had the complete confidence of the army, a committee of Alexander’s closest advisers should rule the empire with differences decided by a majority verdict. It is difficult to believe that Ptolemy intended this as a serious proposal that would either work or be accepted. He was merely trying to undermine the prominence of Perdiccas; a ploy to emphasise that others of the king’s friends were as worthy as the chiliarch to wield supreme power. The effect of his intervention served only to try further the patience of the assembly, which made it abundantly clear that any rule by committee was unwanted.

Perdiccas was by now deeply concerned about the way the meeting was developing. Three proposals had been placed before the assembly and none had gained sufficient support and with every moment that passed his position was being eroded. Before more damage was done, the Perdiccan party attempted to re-establish control of the meeting. Aristonous, one of the seven bodyguards, reminded the assembly that Alexander had given his ring to Perdiccas and that his intentions were clear that the chiliarch should take over the mantle of command. Whether Aristonous was prompted by the chiliarch or used his own initiative is unknown but his intervention received an immediate response. The soldiers had at last been offered some sign of certainty on the leadership issue and, in this suddenly-unpredictable world, they looked set to grab it with both hands. There were shouts for Perdiccas to assume the throne but, according to Quintus Curtius, he hesitated to accept. This description of his reluctance to seize the crown may have more to do with Roman politics of the first century AD, than Macedonian practices of the fourth century BC.⁵ It is difficult to believe that Perdiccas, having once almost thrown away his advantage by indecision, would continue to prevaricate when directly offered command. Whatever the details, it looked as though a clear outcome had been arrived at; but it was not to be, as another actor now entered the stage to throw the Macedonian ship of state way off course, just as it seemed to have found its direction.

Meleager has not been kindly treated by history. He is depicted as an incompetent rabble-rouser who, in a bid for personal power, nearly caused a civil war around the very death bed of Alexander. Yet this is only part of the story as he had a long and distinguished military career. He had held important commands from the beginning of Alexander’s reign and had certainly served under Philip. He led an infantry battalion on the Danube when his young king was crushing the Triballians and Getae. At Granicus his taxis of the phalanx won distinction, alongside Craterus, Perdiccas and Coenus. After revisiting Macedonia to recruit reinforcements, he had returned in time to participate at both Issus and Gaugamela in his capacity of phalanx commander. In India his unit was part of the force that Hephaistion and Perdiccas led to clear the crossing of the Indus, and at Hydaspes he played his part in overcoming the formidable opposition put up by Porus. His contribution to the Macedonian conquests is remarkable for its sheer consistency; he appears to have had the same post throughout Alexander’s reign. For some reason, however, he was not marked out for greater things, never being promoted to lead a cavalry unit or given independent commands. His reaction to seeing the likes of Leonnatus, Ptolemy, Pithon and Seleucus receiving these rewards when they had but a fraction of his military experience can only be imagined.

He was not a close confidant of the king and the only incident that throws light on their relationship does not suggest any meeting of minds. It occurred after the Indus had been crossed in 327 BC. Alexander had befriended a Punjabi potentate, called Omphis, whose cooperation had been rewarded with a gift of 1,000 talents. At a supper party shortly afterwards, Meleager, his tongue loosened by drink, had remarked that at least in India the king had found a man worth a 1,000 talents. This suggestion that Alexander was ungenerous to his long-serving Macedonian followers was not the comment of a man who sympathised with or understood his monarch’s thinking on the treatment of the peoples he had conquered. Equally, it does not suggest Meleager possessed much in the way of tact as a similar remark had cost Cleitus the Black his life in a drunken brawl not long before.

Meleager, now, dramatically intervened in the assembly at Babylon. Initially, when he addressed the throng he did not put forward his own claims, but expressed the pent up resentment and bile he felt against the likes of Perdiccas, who had risen so far above him through the patronage of Alexander. These men, he suggested, were not of the ilk to be trusted with their great king’s legacy and that the common Macedonian warriors were the real heirs of the conquerors’ lands and treasures. Clearly, this was no proposal of policy; it was an incitement to riot and nearly had that effect. What had, up to then, been a meeting drifting in the direction of chaos bubbled over into mutiny and several voices started to cry out that they should loot the royal treasury as they themselves had won this bounty by their own hard fighting. What had begun as an orderly assembly had become a mob of unruly warriors; the Macedonians had never been easy to handle, Alexander himself had discovered this on a few notable occasions. His surviving officers were to be put to a similar test and found wanting.

When the whole body of the meeting seemed on the point of breaking up, more voices from the floor started shouting another name, that of one who they claimed as a perfectly good Macedonian monarch ready and waiting there in the royal court itself. This was Arrhidaeus, a son of Philip and half-brother of Alexander, a man they were all familiar with but who had not previously been considered even remotely appropriate for the crown. His disqualification for preferment was not age, being a few years senior to Alexander, but the fact that he was mentally impaired. He was the offspring of Philip and a Thessalian mistress, a mere dancing girl according to gossip. As an infant he had seemed normal enough, which gave rise to stories that his adult condition was not a natural one. Olympias was implicated as the administrator of the drugs which induced his parlous state, so that he could not become a rival to her son for the throne of the kingdom her husband had created. The truth is impossible to ascertain; it is possibly a later legend created to blacken her name but it fitted well with the mythology of the ‘barbaric’ Epirote witch who kept a snake as a pet and mated with the gods.

Arrhidaeus’ insignificance is attested by the lack of notice by the histories until his unlooked for eruption into power politics on the banks of the Euphrates. The only exception to this silence was the Carian affair which took place during Philip’s reign. The king had wanted to forge an alliance with Caria for the purposes of his forthcoming Persian war. To this end he offered the hand of Arrhidaeus to the satrap’s daughter. Alexander, almost unbelievably, felt that he was being disinherited in favour of his half-brother and sent a secret envoy to offer himself in place of Arrhidaeus. The Carian’s reaction to this offer is unrecorded although he must have been astounded by his apparent good fortune. He had little chance to celebrate, however, as Philip discovered Alexander’s meddling. Not surprisingly, any wedding was called off and the king was furious with his son for ruining a nicely-judged diplomatic coup. As punishment for his behaviour, several of Alexander’s friends (including Nearchus and Ptolemy) were banished from Macedonia. As for Arrhidaeus, he simply disappeared from view again.⁶

Alexander obviously did not bear any grudges towards his half-brother as on his accession, when he dealt mercilessly and efficiently with any potential rivals to his position, Arrhidaeus survived. Alexander may well have been fond of him as it is difficult to otherwise account for his decision to trail him around Asia in the train of his conquering army. Whatever his mental limitations, Arrhidaeus was a royal Macedonian and the call for his elevation received a warm response from the rank and file, who were now even more in the mood for a simple and definite solution. Meleager realised that this might be a heaven-sent opportunity both to ensure high position for himself and undo the plans of Perdiccas. To achieve these aims he would have to gain control of Arrhidaeus and, with commendable speed, he sought out the prince and brought him before his subjects, who were already trying to acclaim this other son of Philip with as much enthusiasm as they used to cheer Alexander.

The Perdiccans, with Pithon this time as their spokesman, tried to regain their momentum by proposing Leonnatus as joint guardian with Perdiccas of the unborn child of Alexander, hoping the former’s princely standing combined with the prestige of Perdiccas would appeal to a broad cross-section of the assembled Macedonians. The time for sensible debate was, however, long gone. Meleager and his supporters had put on their armour and were pushing Arrhidaeus onto the royal throne, acclaiming him as King Philip III. The high-born commanders could have no illusions that they had managed to lose control of a situation in which they had held all the advantages; not only had the army collapsed into a mob with factions looking set to spill each others’ blood, but it was clear that the personal safety of Perdiccas and his supporters was now in jeopardy. By divisions and indecisive leadership they had precipitated the chaos that looked to be their undoing.

These aristocratic generals were hard-headed, cool individuals; life under Alexander had taught them that even the highest could fall from grace. The present situation, though, thoroughly unnerved them; it looked as if the men they had led so often in battle were contemplating murdering them in cold blood and following the lead of an incapable monarch. In desperation, Perdiccas, most of the senior officers and 600 followers retreated to the room where Alexander’s body was waiting, embalmed in preparation for his funeral. They locked the doors but were pursued by a mob of soldiers who had no difficulty breaking the locks. As Quintus Curtius relates:

In a rage, Perdiccas called aside any who wished to protect Alexander’s corpse, but the men who had broken into the room proceeded to hurl javelins at him, keeping their distance. Eventually after many had been wounded, the older soldiers removed their helmets so that they could be more easily recognised and began to beg the men with Perdiccas to stop fighting and to surrender to the king and his superior numbers. Perdiccas was the first to lay down his arms, and the others followed. Meleager then urged them not to leave Alexander’s body, but they thought that he was looking for a way to trap them, so they slipped through another part of the royal quarters and fled towards the Euphrates.⁷

It was no coincidence that the high command had sought sanctuary in Alexander’s funeral chamber. They had hoped to shame the soldiers, to dissuade them from assassinating Alexander’s friends and advisors under the dead king’s eyes. In this they succeeded, at least long enough for them to escape, but it had been a close-run thing. While the discomfited generals fled through the corridors of Nebuchadnezzar’s palace the army had split in two. The infantry had remained in the assembly ground with the most militant following Meleager, while the cavalry moved off to encamp elsewhere. Alexander had been dead only a few hours, yet his followers were already fighting amongst themselves.

Meleager’s position, though he had temporarily won the day, was fraught with difficulties. The new king in the emotional atmosphere of the assembly had appealed to Macedonian patriotism, but in the clear light of day the confused and shambling figure who now occupied the throne seemed an insult to the corpse of Alexander. More seriously, the cavalry had shown that they were not prepared to take their lead from Meleager. The horsemen were wellborn men of substance whose class instincts inclined them to the aristocratic friends of the dead king. Realising his power base and his options were rapidly decreasing, Meleager agreed to a truce. His next move had an air of desperation about it. He browbeat the unhappy and reluctant king to authorise the arrest of Perdiccas. The chiliarch had remained in his normal lodgings, not moving to the cavalry camp where he could have expected complete protection. It may have been overconfidence or he might have wished to avoid becoming completely associated with one faction, in the hope of persuading the infantry over to his side. Meleager’s aim of destroying any opposition by removing its head was rudely shattered when even the men selected to detain Perdiccas lost their nerve. The chiliarch, with only a small bodyguard of pages but with a considerable show of personal eloquence and authority, managed to turn back the party who had come to arrest him. But, realising to stay within the walls of Babylon was to court assassination, he withdrew to the cavalry lines, from where he led them into the plains outside the city.

Meleager woke to find that his rival had quit the city. This act showed that Perdiccas was determined to fight it out, if necessary, and sowed doubt and dissension amongst the ranks of the already-confused and distrustful infantry. They were being challenged to a civil war they did not want and, when the cavalry blockaded the supply routes into Babylon, for the first time their own comfort and security was being threatened. The rift between cavalry and infantry was not sustainable; these men had been through too much together. If it seemed to M...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• List of Illustrations
• Maps
• Introduction
• 1. Babylon
• 2. The Perdiccas Years
• 3. The Struggle for Macedonia
• 4. The Rise of Antigonus
• 5. Stalemate
• 6. Ptolemy
• 7. Seleucus
• 8. Ebbtide
• 9. Ipsus
• 10. Ptolemaic Revival
• 11. Lysimachus
• 12. The Final Hand
• Epilogue
• Notes
• Bibliography