Free The Pillars of Hercules by David Constantine Page A

had idolized since boyhood. In the wake of Siwah, Eumenes had begun to suspect that identification might have become a literal one, though he hadn’t given it a tremendous amount of thought—largely because it seemed to be overshadowed by Alexander’s claim to be the son of the father of the universe. But now he found himself wondering if Harpalus knew something he didn’t. Still, it didn’t add up.
    “Melkart was just an excuse,” he said. “You know that as well as I do. Tyre was the headquarters of the Persian navy, which Alexander needed to neutralize—”
    “Athens had already done a good job with that,” said Harpalus. “Back when she took Egypt from Persia, thirty years back. Persia only had a few ships left—”
    “Where are you going with this?” asked Eumenes.
    “The ambassadors from Carthage,” said Harpalus.
    Eumenes nodded. He’d personally handled that particular problem. The Carthaginian ambassadors had been at Tyre for ceremonies to Melkart when Alexander sacked the place. It had made for a tricky diplomatic situation, since Carthage had been a Phoenician colony—founded by Tyre itself centuries ago. But Carthage had long since passed out of Tyre’s political orbit and become a major power in her own right—until Athens had subjugated her and made the city the crown-jewel of her western empire. Eumenes had suspected at the time that Alexander would have killed the ambassadors out of hand had they not technically been under Athenian protection—it would have meant war with Athens before he’d even finished with Persia. So the ambassadors had been permitted to leave Tyre unscathed. But somehow they were still in the picture.
    “What about them?” he asked.
    “They’ve been in contact with Alexander,” said Harpalus.
    That drew Eumenes up short. “What?”
    “Sending him gold. And African ivory. Which naturally went through the treasury—”
    “Bribes?”
    “Maybe. But they included correspondence. Which was sealed… but I have my ways.”
    “Correspondence is supposed to go through my office,” said Eumenes, realizing even as he spoke the words just how petulant he was sounding.
    “What can I say?” Harpalus spread his arms out. “Our prince likes to keep the left and right hands far apart.”
    “But—what in Hades’ name did the correspondence say? What was the message?”
    “They weren’t messages—they were maps .”
    “Maps of what?”
    “The location and layout of other temples of Melkart-Hercules.”
    “He’s got temples all over the place. I could name several right now.”
    “I’m talking about the westernmost ones in existence.”
    “Which are where?”
    “At the Pillars of Hercules.”
    There was a long pause. “You’re joking.”
    “I wish I were,” said Harpalus.
    “The gateway to the outer ocean? Where Hercules is supposed to have bagged the sacred cattle?”
    “Don’t be so cynical. From what I can make out, the place is real enough. There are two temples, facing each other across the straits. One’s called Gadus; the other, Lixus. And Zeus help us all if Alexander wants to worship at either of them .”
    Eumenes’ mind was working on overtime. “Did you see any other correspondence from these ambassadors?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll bet there was some, though.”
    “What makes you say that?” asked Harpalus.
    “Zeus, there must have been. You just don’t send a bunch of ivory and maps without some kind of explanation or context.”
    “Maybe they went through another channel. Or they were in code.”
    “Or both. Remember all that talk about Carthage at the council meeting back in Egypt?”
    “Unfortunately, yes.”
    “I’d wager Alexander’s working with a fifth column there,” said Eumenes. “Trying to get them to rebel.”
    Harpalus looked thoughtful. “Or they’re trying to get him to come liberate them ”—but as he said this, a blast of trumpets shattered the morning calm. Both men whirled, looking out across the city