Polyperchon’s messengers left Europe and crossed the Hellespont, following those already en route—the letter bearers dispatched by Olympias, and Hieronymus of Cardia, the go-between chosen by Antigonus One-eye. All these envoys made their way to a tiny fortress in Cappadocia, an obscure patch of rock that had suddenly become central to the future of the entire known world.

5. EUMENES (

THE FORTRESS AT NORA, WINTER–SPRING 318 B.C.)

Eumenes’ spirits had not been vanquished by his year of confinement at Nora. He had kept up the morale of the six hundred supporters besieged with him on the four-acre rock, inviting them by turns to his table to share meals of bread, salt, and water. Here, as in all his commands, Eumenes’ buoyancy and inventiveness helped inspire his men with hope. It was hard merely to generate new topics of conversation, yet the table talk, as Plutarch reports, stayed lively and cheerful.

The biggest challenge of close confinement was lack of space for exercise, not only for the men but also for their horses. Eumenes recognized that the animals would become useless if they stood idle day after day. So he devised pulleys for lifting their foreparts off the ground, then goaded them from behind so that they struggled and danced on their hind legs. The violent workout covered the animals in sweat and foam, but this was better than inactivity. As for the men, Eumenes set aside the largest house in the fortress—itself only twenty feet long—as a track and personally coached the drill sessions there, giving cues to the runners to keep them increasing their pace.

For a while, escape was the only hope. Eumenes and his men tried several attacks on the perimeter wall and succeeded in destroying small sections but each time failed to break out. Then came word that Alcetas and the other Perdiccans had been defeated in Pisidia, that Alcetas was dead and the others imprisoned under strong guard. Eumenes no longer had anywhere to escape to. All of Asia belonged to Antigonus One-eye. But Fortune was about to turn her wheel once again. Events already in motion would transform an isolated, resourceless fugitive into the most sought-after leader in the empire.

First came Hieronymus, Eumenes’ comrade and countryman, bearing a miraculous offer. Eumenes could have full restoration of position and wealth, plus much more, simply by swearing an oath of loyalty to Antigonus One-eye. The officers manning the siege were instructed to release Eumenes as soon as he took the oath, a copy of which Hieronymus had brought with him. Once released, Eumenes would become a free man, a satrap, and a senior officer in Antigonus’ army, now the world’s largest.

Eumenes looked over the oath with misgivings. He knew that Antigonus had been stripped of control of the kings the previous year, a sign that One-eye did not have the royal interests at heart. Perhaps he also knew—just how much Hieronymus had told him about events in the West is unclear—that Cassander, Antipater’s son, had rebelled against Polyperchon and the kings and had approached Antigonus for help. Eumenes discerned that allegiance to Antigonus might well mean betrayal of the Argeads, the family whose rights he had struggled mightily to protect. And yet that allegiance was his path to freedom, to political redemption, and to the only post that made sense for him, consigliere to the empire’s most powerful capo.

Which side would Eumenes take, and what would he fight for? Did he care who triumphed in the succession struggle, or was he only seeking to better his own lot? This was a moment of truth, requiring Eumenes to choose between loyalty and self-interest. But with characteristic ingenuity, he found a way to have both.

According to Plutarch’s account, Eumenes rewrote the oath so that it featured the joint kings and Olympias more prominently than Antigonus. He then submitted both versions to the guards at the siege perimeter and asked which was more just. In effect, he was asking these troops to support the kings over Antigonus, or at least to reject the idea that the two might be at odds. The soldiers obliged by declaring Eumenes’ version the more proper of the two, and Eumenes duly swore his own oath. He was released and restored to his former position as satrap of Cappadocia.

Eumenes quickly set about gathering troops, for he knew he had not much time. Antigonus soon learned of the altered oath and was furious that his conditions had been sidestepped. He sent a hasty message to his guardsmen ordering them to recapture Eumenes, excoriating them for their stupidity. Then he sent an armed cohort under Menander, former satrap of Lydia, to catch the wily Greek. Menander and Antigonus had together plotted an ambush of Eumenes years earlier, outside Sardis, but Eumenes eluded them by taking an unforeseen route. Now he once again slipped through their grasp, leaving Cappadocia with a small band only three days before Menander arrived.

While on the march, or perhaps just before departing, Eumenes received letters from Polyperchon and Olympias offering him a commission as chief defender of the royal house. Eumenes was now to have money, legitimacy, and use of the Silver Shields, the most accomplished infantry corps in the army. Antigenes, veteran captain of the Shields, and a new co-captain named Teutamus were already on their way, with orders to serve Eumenes in the name of the kings. Polyperchon himself would join them, the letters promised, should Eumenes request it, and bring the kings into Asia. Olympias would put the young Alexander, her own grandson, into Eumenes’ care.

Eumenes had been thrust in an instant from the most remote fringe to the very center of power. He pushed ahead toward the rendezvous with the Silver Shields. His war with Antigonus was back on.

6. PHOCION AND NICANOR (ATHENS, WINTER–SPRING 318 B.C.)

The shake-up created by Antipater’s death had brought Eumenes from Fortune’s depths to her heights, but in Athens, for the oligarchs who had once been favored by Antipater, the reverse seemed likely to occur. Chief among these was Phocion, Do-good Phocion, the stalwart public servant who now, in his eighty-fourth year, found himself caught in a political squeeze that threatened to become a death trap.

For Phocion, the announcement of Polyperchon’s freedom decree had come as a cruel betrayal. Phocion had known of course that Antipater would not live forever but never dreamed that his successor would embark on a total reversal of standing policy. The decree gave the regime of the nine thousand only a few months in power, after which the poor would be back in the majority, able to vent their rage on those who had disenfranchised them. Phocion could foresee how his record of service would be distorted by his enemies. He had watched it happen to others who had fallen, time and time again. His efforts to mollify the Macedonians, to win clemency for dissidents like Hagnonides, would be forgotten; the public would see only a collaboration with a hated occupier. His carefully groomed integrity and austere way of life—he still drew water for himself, and his wife baked the family’s bread, despite a fortune that could pay for many slaves—would not help him once those passions were unleashed.

Phocion’s one hope of ending his six-decade career well was the war brewing between Polyperchon and Cassander, a war increasingly centered on Athens. The fortified harbor of Piraeus, which controlled the sea-lanes of the entire Aegean, was a vital asset for both sides. Phocion had watched as Nicanor, the agent of Cassander, slipped into the garrison there and took command, only days before Antipater’s death was announced. Phocion’s enemies had been outraged, claiming Phocion knew Antipater was dying and helped Nicanor get control. Phocion did not and perhaps could not deny it. He convinced Nicanor to stage some high-priced athletic games for the Athenians’ entertainment, hoping to put a good face on an unpleasant episode.