Clitarchus and Timagenes state that Ptolemy, who afterwards became a king, was present at this fighting, but Ptolemy himself, who would not of course gainsay his own glory, has recorded in his memoirs that he was away at the time, as the king had sent him on an expedition elsewhere. This instance shows how great was the carelessness of the authors who composed these old books of history, or, it may be, their credulity, which is just as great a dereliction of their duty. The king was carried into a tent, where the surgeons cut off the wooden shaft of the arrow which had pierced him, taking care not to stir its point. When his armour was taken off they discovered that the weapon was barbed, and that it could not be extracted without danger except by making an incision to open the wound. But here again they were afraid lest in operating they should be unable to staunch the flow of blood, for the weapon was large and had been driven home with such force that it had evidently pierced to the inwards.
Critobulus, who was famous for his surgical skill,[295] was nevertheless swayed by fear in a case so precarious, and dreaded to put his hand to the work lest his failure to effect a cure should recoil on his own head. The king observing him to weep, and to be showing signs of fear, and looking ghastly pale, said to him: “For what and how long are you waiting that you do not set to work as quickly as possible? If die I must, free me at least from the pain I suffer. Are you afraid lest you should be held to account because I have received an incurable wound?” Then Critobulus, at last overcoming, or perhaps dissembling his fear, begged Alexander to suffer himself to be held while he was extracting the point, since even a slight motion of his body would be of dangerous consequence. To this the king replied that there was no need of men to hold him, and then, agreeably to what had been enjoined him, he did not wince the least during the operation.[296]
When the wound had then been laid wide open and the point extracted, there followed such a copious discharge of blood that the king began to swoon, while a dark mist came over his eyes, and he lay extended as if he were dying. Every remedy was applied to staunch the blood, but all to no purpose, so that the king’s friends, believing him to be dead, broke out into cries and lamentations. The bleeding did, however, at last stop, and the patient gradually recovered consciousness and began to recognise those who stood around him. All that day and the night which followed the army lay under arms around the royal tent. All of them confessed that their life depended on his single breath, and they could not be prevailed on to withdraw until they had ascertained that he had fallen into a quiet sleep. Thereupon they returned to the camp entertaining more assured hopes of his recovery.
Chapter VI.—Alexander recovers and shows himself to the army—His officers remonstrate with him for his recklessness in exposing his life to danger—His reply to their appeal
The king, who had now been kept for the space of seven days under treatment for his wound without its being as yet cicatrised, on hearing that a report of his death had gained a wide currency among the barbarians, caused two ships to be lashed together and his tent to be set up in the centre where it would be conspicuous to every one, so that he might therefrom show himself to those who believed him to be dead. By thus exposing himself to the view of the inhabitants he crushed the hope with which the false report had inspired his enemies. He then sailed down the river,[297] starting a good while before the rest of the fleet, lest the repose which his weak bodily condition still required should be disturbed by the noise of rowing. On the fourth day after he had embarked he reached a country deserted by its inhabitants, but fruitful in corn and well stocked with cattle. Here along with his soldiers he enjoyed a welcome season of rest.
Now it was a custom among the Macedonians that the king’s especial friends and those who had the guard of his person watched before his tent during any occasional illness. This custom being now observed as usual, they all entered his chamber in a body. Alexander fearing they might be the bearers of some bad news, since they had all come together, enquired whether they had come to inform him that the enemy had that moment arrived. Then Craterus, who had been chosen by the others as their medium to let the king know the entreaties of his friends, addressed him in these terms: “Can you imagine,” he began, “that we could be more alarmed by the enemy’s approach, even if they were already within our lines, than we are concerned for your personal safety, by which, it seems, you set but little store? Were the united powers of the whole world to conspire against us, were they to cover the land all over with arms and men, to cover the seas with fleets, and lead ferocious wild beasts against us, we shall prove invincible to every foe when we have you to lead us. But which of the gods can ensure that this the stay and star of Macedonia will be long preserved to us when you are so forward to expose your person to manifest dangers, forgetting that you draw into peril the lives of so many of your countrymen? For which of us wishes to survive you, or even has it within his power? Under your conduct and command we have advanced so far that there is no one but yourself who can lead us back to our hearths and homes.
“No doubt while you were still contending with Darius for the sovereignty of Persia, one could not even think it strange (though no one wished it) that you were ever ready and eager to rush boldly into danger, for where the risk and the reward are fairly balanced, the gain is not only more ample in case of success, but the solace is greater in case of defeat. But that your very life should be paid as the price of an obscure village, which of your soldiers, nay, what inhabitant of any barbarous country that has heard of your greatness can tolerate such an idea? My soul is struck with horror when I think of the scene which was lately presented to our eyes.
“I cannot but tremble to relate that the hands of the greatest dastards would have polluted the spoils stripped from the invincible Alexander, had not fortune, looking with pity on us, interfered for your deliverance. We are no better than traitors, no better than deserters, all of us who were unable to keep up with you when you ran into danger; and should you therefore brand us all with dishonour, none of us will refuse to give satisfaction for that from the guilt of which he could not secure himself. Show us, we beseech you then, in some other way, how cheap you hold us. We are ready to go wherever you order. We solicit that for us you reserve obscure dangers and inglorious battles, while you save yourself for those occasions which give scope for your greatness. Glory won in a contest with inferior opponents soon becomes stale, and nothing can be more absurd than to let your valour be wasted where it cannot be displayed to view.”
Ptolemy and others who were present addressed him in the same or similar terms, and all of them, as one man, besought him with tears that, sated as he was with glory, he would at last set some limits to that passion and have more regard for his own safety, on which that of the public depended. The affection and loyalty of his friends were so gratifying to the king that he embraced them one by one with more than his usual warmth, and requested them all to be seated.[298]
Then, in addressing them, he went far back in a review of his career and said: “I return you, most faithful and most dutiful subjects and friends, my most heartfelt thanks, not only because you at this time prefer my safety to your own, but also because from the very outset of the war you have lost no opportunity of showing by every pledge and token your kindly feelings towards myself, so that I must confess my life has never been so dear to me as it is at present, and chiefly so, that I may long enjoy your companionship. At the same time, I must point out that those who are willing to lay down their lives for me do not look at the matter from my point of view, inasmuch as I judge myself to have deserved by my bravery your favourable inclinations towards me, for you may possibly be coveting to reap the fruit of my favour for a great length of time, perhaps even in perpetuity, but I measure myself not by the span of age, but by that of glory.