Free Alexander (Vol. 2) by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

cavalry search the area – this Greek is the most dangerous of all our enemies. If he is alive, he will create many problems for us. Last night I saw the flashing of light signals up on the mountains – news of our victory is surely travelling far and wide and at great speed. The response will not be long in coming, and it certainly won’t be with a message of welcome.’
    ‘I will do everything I can, Father, and I will deliver him to you trussed up at your feet.’
    Parmenion shook his head. ‘You will do nothing of the sort. If you find him, treat him with respect: Memnon is the most valiant warrior east of the Straits.’
    ‘But he is a mercenary.’
    ‘And what does that mean? He is a man whose life has stripped him of all illusions and who now believes in his sword alone. For me this is reason enough to respect him.’
    Philotas scoured the countryside stone by stone, searching the villas and the palaces, interrogating slaves, even resorting to torture, but he obtained nothing.
    ‘Nothing,’ he reported to his father a few days later. ‘Nothing at all. It’s as if he’d never existed.’
    ‘Perhaps there is a way to root him out. Keep an eye on the doctors, especially the good ones, and find out where their work is – you might just find yourself at the bedside of an illustrious patient.’
    ‘That’s a good idea, Father. It’s strange, but I had always thought of you as a soldier, as a man capable only of thinking up ingenious battle plans.’
    ‘Winning a battle is never enough – the difficult part comes afterwards.’
    ‘I will do as you have advised me.’
    From that day onwards, Philotas began distributing money and cultivating friendships, especially among people of more humble station, and he was not long in learning who were the best physicians, and who was the best of them all – an Egyptian by the name of Snefru-en-Kaptah. He had attended to King Darius at Susa and had been the personal physician of Spithridates, the Satrap of Phrygia.
    Philotas had a series of observation posts set up and one evening the Egyptian was spotted leaving his home by a small rear door, after which he climbed aboard a cart drawn by a mule and headed off into the countryside. Philotas, with a patrol of light cavalry, followed him at a safe distance and off the road. After a long ride in the dark, in the distance they spotted the lights of a fine dwelling – a palace with battlements, porticoes and balconies.
    ‘This is it,’ he announced to his men. ‘Stand by.’
    They dismounted and moved closer on foot, holding the animals by their bridles. But just as they were approaching the palace, they were welcomed on both flanks by a furious barking – a pack of ferocious Cappadocian bulldogs was attacking them.
    They had to use their spears to keep them at bay, but in the dark they could not take aim properly and to use bows and arrows was even more difficult so that they found themselves having to engage in close combat, using daggers. Some of the steeds, frightened terribly, bolted, neighing and kicking, into the night and the horsemen, when they finally got the upper hand over the pack that had attacked them, found the number of horses almost halved.
    ‘We must continue all the same!’ ordered Philotas in a fury.
    They leaped on to their mounts, those who still had them, and rode to the courtyard of the palace, which was lit by lamps arranged all around the portico. There before them was a most beautiful woman, dressed in a Persian gown with long golden fringes.
    ‘Who are you?’ she asked in Greek. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘I am sorry, my Lady, but we are looking for a man who has sold his sword to the barbarians and we have reason to believe he is in this house, probably wounded. We followed his doctor.’
    The woman was obviously shocked by these words and turned pale with rage, but she moved to one side to let them past. ‘Come in and look anywhere you wish, but I beg you to behave appropriately in