The Alexander Cipher Page 0,7

Egypt for burial.”

“Ah! And you think this was from then?”

“I think it’s possible. You’ve got to bear something in mind. This was Alexander the Great we’re talking about. He led thirty thousand Macedonians across the Hellespont to avenge Xerxes’ invasion of Greece, knowing that he’d face armies ten times larger. He hammered the Persians not once, not twice, but three times, and then he just kept on going. He fought countless battles, and he won them all, making himself the most powerful man the world has ever seen. When his best friend, Hephaiston, died, he sent him on his way on top of a beautifully carved wooden pyre eighty meters high—like building Sydney Opera House, then putting a match to it, just to enjoy the blaze. So you can imagine, his men would have insisted on something pretty special when Alexander himself died.”

“I get you.”

“A pyre was out of the question. Alexander’s body was far too precious to be burned. Apart from anything else, one of the duties of a new Macedonian king was to bury his predecessor. So whoever possessed Alexander’s body had a serious claim to kingship, especially as Alexander hadn’t left an obvious successor, and everyone was jostling for position.”

Rick nodded at Knox’s empty glass. “You fancy another?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Two beers!” shouted Rick at the barman. “Sorry. You were saying, people jostling for position . . .”

“Yes. The throne was pretty much open. Alexander had a brother, but he was a half-wit. And his wife, Roxanne, was pregnant, but no one could be sure she’d have a son; and anyway, Roxanne was a barbarian, and the Macedonians hadn’t conquered the known world to be ruled by a half-breed. So there was an assembly of the army in Babylon, and they came to a compromise. The half-wit brother and the unborn child, if he turned out to be a boy—which he did, Alexander the Fourth—would rule together; but the various regions of the empire would be administered for them by a number of satraps all reporting to a triumvirate. You with me?”

“Yes.”

“One of Alexander’s generals was a man named Ptolemy. He was the one who made the claim about the talking snakes leading Alexander to Siwa, as it happens. But don’t let that fool you—he was a very shrewd, very capable man. He realized that without Alexander to hold it together, the empire was bound to fragment, and he wanted Egypt for himself. It was rich, out of the way, unlikely to get caught up in other people’s wars. So he got himself awarded the satrapy, bedded himself in, and eventually became pharaoh, founding the Ptolemaic dynasty that ended with Cleopatra. Okay?”

Their beers arrived and they clinked them in a toast. “Go on,” said Rick.

“It wasn’t easy for Ptolemy, making himself pharaoh,” said Knox. “Egyptians wouldn’t recognize just anyone. Legitimacy was very important to them. Alexander was different, a living god of unquestioned royal blood, who’d driven out the hated Persians—there was no shame in being ruled by such a man. But Ptolemy was a nobody as far as the Egyptians were concerned. So one of the things he needed was a symbol of kingship.”

“Ah,” said Rick, wiping froth from his upper lip. “Alexander’s body.”

“Ten out of ten,” grinned Knox. “Ptolemy wanted Alexander’s body. But he wasn’t the only one. The head of the Macedonian triumvirate was called Perdiccas, and he had ambitions of his own. He wanted to bring Alexander’s body back to Macedonia for burial alongside his father, Philip, in the royal tombs of Aigai in Northern Greece. But getting him from Babylon to Macedonia wasn’t easy; you couldn’t just load him on the first boat. He had to travel in a certain style.”

Rick nodded. “I’m the same way, myself.”

“A historian called Diodorus of Sicily gave a very detailed description of all this. Alexander’s body was embalmed and laid in a coffin of beaten gold, covered by expensive, sweet-smelling spices. And a catafalque— that’s a funeral carriage to you and me—was commissioned. It was essentially a giant golden temple on wheels, so spectacular that it took over a year to get ready. It was six meters long, four meters wide, and it had a high vaulted roof of gold scales set with jewels that was supported by gold ionic columns twined with acanthus. A golden mast rose from the top, flashing like lightning in the sun, and at each of its corners there was a golden statue of Nike, the ancient goddess of victory, holding out a