And the thought depressed him.
The faint light of pre-dawn bathed the slopes of the low range of hills overlooking the River Axios as Nicanor gently shook Philip awake. The King groaned and sat up, pushing aside his blanket and stretching his back. Around him most of the 1,000 cavalrymen were still sleeping. Philip stood and rubbed warmth into his powerful arms, glancing up at the sentries on the ridge.
'Any movement?' he asked Nicanor.
'No, sire.'
Philip lifted his bronze-reinforced leather breastplate and swung it into place, Nicanor adjusting the winged shoulder-guards and tying them securely. A black-bearded warrior walked through the gloom and bowed before the King.
'The enemy have camped in a hollow about a mile from here, due north. I count they have almost twice our number: they were reinforced last night.'
Philip wanted to curse. Instead he grinned. 'You have done well, Antipater. And do not concern yourself with the numbers. Just remember that we are Macedonian and that the King rides with you.'
'Yes, sire.' The man looked away. Philip guessed at his thoughts. Only weeks before, another King had probably said something remarkably similar — and that enterprise had ended in massacre and disaster.
'I am not Perdiccas,' said Philip softly. Antipater looked startled, but Philip thumped his shoulder and chuckled. 'Now we cannot consider two defeats in so short a time, can we?'
Antipater smiled nervously, unsure how to take this curious man. 'Do you wish to talk to the men, sire?'
'No. Tell them I'll give a victory speech later, and we'll all get drunk.'
'A speech before might bring better results,' Nicanor advised.
Philip swung on him. 'Perdiccas was a good speaker, is that not right, Antipater?' The warrior nodded. 'And did he not fill the men's hearts with fire on the night before the battle?'
'He did, sire.'
'Then tell the men exactly what I said. Now let us move; I want to be above their camp at dawn.
You, Antipater will, take half the men. I will command the others. We will hit them from east and west. I want no prisoners. Hit them hard — and hit them well.'
An hour later Philip led his 500 men up a steep hillside, where they walked their horses until they reached a ridge overlooking the enemy camp. There were scores of tents, and hundreds more men could be seen lying under blankets around dying fires. There were no sentries out, which in a strange way increased Philip's fury. He drew his sabre and pointed to the right. The Macedonians mounted their horses and moved out to form a long line across the ridge. There they waited. The sun was still hidden behind the distant Kerkine mountains, but the sky was brightening. Shading his eyes, Philip saw Antipater and his force of 500 come into view to the east, a cloud of dust billowing under the thundering hooves. Paionian warriors rolled from their blankets, grabbing for sword, lance or bow. But then Antipater was upon them. For a while the Paionians seemed likely to hold, then their centre broke and they fled for the hills where the King waited. Philip lifted his sword.
'Let them hear you!' he bellowed, and the Macedonian war-cry went up, a rolling wall of sound that echoed across the plain.
Philip kicked his black gelding into a run and galloped down the gentle slope. The Paionians were caught now between hammer and anvil, as they fled before Antipater directly at Philip and his riders. Panic set in and the tribesmen sprinted away in any direction that offered cover. The Macedonians bore down on them, cutting and killing. Philip dragged on his reins and saw a group of tribesmen some sixty or seventy strong, trying to form a square behind their wickerwork shields.
Bloodlust upon him, he galloped his horse into their midst, hacking at men with his sabre. A spear glanced from his breastplate, a sword sliced his thigh, opening a shallow wound. Nicanor, seeing the King in peril, led twenty riders to his aid — and the square broke.
What followed was a massacre. The Paionians threw away their shields and swords and ran, only to be hunted down by groups of riders intent only on revenge and the deaths of their enemies.
By dusk, as Philip sat in the enemy leader's tent, his thigh bandaged, almost 1,100 Paionians lay dead or wounded, for the loss of only sixty-two Macedonians — and one of these was killed when his horse stumbled and rolled on top of him. The camp was filled with plunder, gold and plate, silver coins, statues in precious metals. More than fifty Macedonian women had been held enslaved here, and so happy were they to be free that they gave to their rescuers with gusto the pleasures the Paionians had needed to obtain by force.
Philip ordered the treasures to be loaded onto carts and taken to Pella, then he fulfilled his promise and gathered the men about him in a great circle.
'Today,' he said, his voice resonant and deep, reaching every ear without apparent effort, 'y°u nave enjoyed a victory. Your enemy lies dead in his hundreds, and the north will soon be free of his pillaging. That is today. That is the beginning. Do not misunderstand me — today was not a great victory. Yet it was historic. For it is the first of many and I promise you this — there will come a day when the battle-cry of Macedon will shake the foundations of the world! It will be heard across oceans, it will echo above mountains. There will not be a man alive who does not know of it and fear the sound. That is my promise to you, warriors of Macedon. That is the promise of Philip.' He lapsed into silence and gazed at them. There was no cheering and the lack of sound or movement from them left him momentarily confused. Then he looked at them again, seeing that many had no breastplates and only a few sported helms. 'I will give you weapons,' he said, 'bright shining armour, sharp swords, greaves, helms and lances. I will bring you gold and riches, and grant you land for your sons to grow on. But for tonight I give you wine. Now… let us drink!'
There was polite applause led by Nicanor as the wine was brought out, and the men began to rise and move away to sit in groups around small camp-fires. Philip sought out Antipater.
'Was it such a bad speech?' he asked the warrior.
'Not at all, sire. But most of these men are from Pelagonia and the valleys of the Pindos. The Illyrians now control their homelands, their wives and children are lost to them. If you could tell them about an expedition against Bardylis
'But I cannot. . and I will not lie to them, Antipater. Not ever. Tomorrow you will take your 500 and scour the north. Hit any tribesmen you find. Drive them from Macedonia.'
'We will lose more men to desertion,' said Antipater softly. 'They will seek to go home.'
In the morning Philip was again among the first to rise. He bade Nicanor gather the men once more.
'Last night I made you promises,' he told them, 'Today I have something else to say. Many of you will be riding with Antipater — to push the Paionians from our lands. There will be those among you who will wish to return to your homes, seeking out wives and children. I understand that. What I ask of you all is this: choose from among yourselves a group of twenty men who will ride into the occupied lands, gathering news of lost families. Those men will receive full pay of twenty-five drachms a month while they are gone, their wages held in Pella against their return. The rest of you will be home within three months; I promise that also. But there will come a time when I will call on you and, if you are men of honour, you will come to me. Is that fair?" Philip pointed to a burly, dark-bearded warrior in the front row. 'You! Is that fair?'
'If it is true, yes,' answered the man.
'I have no way but time to prove my words. But you are the first of Philip's warriors — and I will never let you down.' His eyes raked the group, hovering on every face. 'There will be decisions you do not understand in the early days, but know this, that I live for Macedonia — and everything I do will be to further her cause. I ask for your trust.'