THE GORDIAN KNOT
After the battle of Granicus, many Persian towns submitted to the
conqueror. Those along the coast of Asia Minor that refused to open
their gates, the king quickly subdued.
During the winter he reached a city called Gordion, about which a
strange story is told.
In the citadel of Gordion was an old, roughly built wagon, which had
once belonged to a peasant named Gordius. Long, long ago Gordius had
ridden into the town in his wagon, and the oracle had declared that
this peasant had been chosen by the gods to be king of Phrygia, in
which country Gordion stood.
When Gordius was made king, almost the first thing he did was to
dedicate his wagon to the gods, tying the yoke to the pole with fibre
taken from the bark of a tree. The Gordion knot, as it was named, was
twisted and tangled in a bewildering way, and looked as though it would
defy the most skilful fingers to untie. Yet an oracle had said that
whoever should succeed in undoing this wonderful knot would become king
over all Asia.
Many men who wished to wear a crown came to Gordion to try to undo the
knot, but not one of them had been able to unravel the twisted fibre.
When Alexander, with his victorious army, rode into Gordion, every one
wondered if the king would be able to untie the famous knot.
Alexander was not long in going to see the ancient wagon. He looked at
the puzzling knot and soon saw that he would not be able to untie it.
But he did not mean to be beaten. He would solve the problem in his own
way. So taking his sword in his impatient hands, with one swift stroke
he cut the formidable knot in two.
The onlookers, both Phrygians and Macedonians, shouted with delight,
for lo! the oracle was fulfilled, and Alexander would become monarch of
Asia.
As the knot was cut in twain, a great thunderstorm raged over the town,
and the people said, ‘It is Zeus who sends the storm to show that he is
pleased that the prophecy is fulfilled.’
While Alexander had been conquering the towns along the coast of Asia,
Darius had been gathering together another great army, which numbered,
so it was said, six hundred thousand men. The king himself commanded
the vast army, and in the spring of 333 B.C. he set out to find
Alexander.
Darius was not a skilful general, nor was he a brave king, but he had
no doubt that he would conquer Alexander.
When Alexander still lingered in one of the coast towns, Darius deemed
that it was cowardice that kept him there, so little did he know of the
character of his foe. It was illness alone that kept Alexander from
advancing against the great king.
Some said that it was the hardships of the battlefield that had made
the king ill, others that while he was still heated after a long march
he had bathed in a river, the waters of which were very cold.
To the dismay of his soldiers, who adored their brave leader, the king
grew worse and worse. He was so ill that it seemed that he must die.
His physicians were afraid to give the king medicine, for should he die
they would be accused of giving him poison.
At length one of the physicians, named Philip, to whom Alexander had
shown great kindness, determined that whatever happened to him, he
would do his utmost to save the king’s life.
Alexander himself was content to take what Philip ordered, so impatient
was he to be well and at the head of his army once again.
So Philip left the king for a few moments to prepare the medicine that
he believed would cure him.
While he was absent, a letter was brought to Alexander from his officer
Parmenio. It besought the king not to trust Philip, as he had been
bribed by Darius to poison him. Vast sums of money and the hand of the
great king’s daughter, said Parmenio, were to be the reward of the
physician.
When Alexander had read the letter, he put it under his pillow, showing
it to no one, not even to his beloved friend Hephæstion. He had no
sooner done so than Philip returned with the medicine. The king took it
without hesitation. Then, drawing the letter from beneath his pillow,
he bade his physician read it.
Philip was horrified as he read the false accusation, and flinging
himself down by the bed, he entreated the king to trust him and to fear
nothing.
The drug was a powerful one, and after taking it the king was
unconscious for hours. His nurses whispered to one another that he was
dead.
But after a time he opened his eyes, weak indeed, but no longer in
danger. Philip tended him until his strength returned, and he was at
length able to go out to show himself to his Macedonians. For they had
been in constant fear lest aught should befall their king, and nothing
would satisfy them until they had seen his face.