Alexander would have liked to ask a thousand other questions there and then, but he saw the servants and the maids rushing to take care of Philip and he said, ‘You need a bath, Father. We will continue our conversation over supper. Is there anything special you would like the cook to prepare?’
‘Is there any roe-buck?’
‘As much as you can eat, and wine from Attica.’
‘So we can drink to Demosthenes’ health then.’
‘To Demosthenes, Father!’ exclaimed Alexander and he ran to the kitchen to make sure that everything was made ready to perfection.
Aristotle joined the King in the bath chamber and sat and listened to what he had to say while the handmaids massaged his shoulders and scrubbed his back.
‘It is a tonic bath with sage. You’ll feel much better for it. How are you, Sire?’
‘Exhausted, Aristotle, and there’s still so much to do.’
‘If only you could stay here for one or two weeks – I can’t say that I’d be able to restore your youth, but I could certainly get you in good shape: a diet to clean out your system, massages, thermal baths, exercises for your leg. And that eye . . . the wound has not been treated correctly. I must examine you, as soon as you have a moment to spare.’
‘Ah! But I cannot allow myself any of these luxuries, and the military surgeons do what they can. I do want to thank you for the winter battle diet you researched for our soldiers; it worked out very well and the results were excellent. I believe it saved many lives.’
The philosopher bowed his head slightly.
‘I am in trouble, Aristotle,’ the King began again. ‘I need your help.’
‘Speak.’
‘I know that you do not agree, but I am preparing to occupy all the cities near the Straits that are still tied to Athens. Perinthus and Byzantium will be tested: I must know whose side they are on.’
‘If you force them into a choice, they will choose Athens and you will have to use force against them.’
‘I have engaged the services of the best military engineer available today, and he is designing huge machines, some ninety feet high. They are costing me a fortune, but it will be worth it.’
‘Anyway, my opinion would do nothing to dissuade you.’
‘No, indeed.’
‘So why do you ask for my advice?’
‘Because of the situation in Athens. My informers tell me that Demosthenes is setting up a pan-Hellenic League against me.’
‘That’s understandable. In his eyes you are the most dangerous of Athens’ enemies and a threat to the independence and democracy of the Greek cities.’
‘If I had wanted to take Athens, I would have done so already. Instead I limited myself to establishing my authority in the area that comes under direct Macedonian influence.’
‘You razed Olynthus to the ground and . . .’
‘But the people of Olynthus had made me angry!’
Aristotle raised his eyebrows and sighed, ‘I understand.’
‘So . . . what can be done about this League? If Demosthenes succeeds, I will be forced to confront them with my army in open battle.’
‘For the moment I do not believe there is any danger of that. The discord, the rivalry and the envy among the Greeks are all so strong that nothing will come of it, I think. But if you persist with your aggressive policy, you will only succeed in uniting them. Just as happened at the time of the Persian invasion.’
‘But I am not a Persian!’ the King thundered. And he beat his fist on the edge of the bath, causing a little storm to break out in there.
As soon as the waters calmed down, Aristotle spoke again: ‘That makes no difference. Since time immemorial whenever a power has achieved hegemony all other powers have become allies against it. The Greeks are extremely fond of their total independence and they are ready to do anything to preserve it. You understand, don’t you, that Demosthenes is even capable of making a deal with the Persians? For them there is more value in preserving their independence than in preserving ties of blood and culture.’
‘Certainly. I should really just wait quietly and see what happens.’
‘No. You must realize that every time you take some military initiative against Athenian lands or allies then you create difficulties for the friends you have in the city because they are immediately marked as traitors or are suspected of having been corrupted.’
‘As indeed some of them have been,’ said Philip impassively. ‘In any case I know I am right and therefore I will continue along this road. I have to ask you a favour, however. Your father-in-law is Lord of Assus; should Demosthenes start negotiating with the Persians then he may come to hear of it.’
‘I will write to him,’ Aristotle promised. ‘But remember, if you are determined to continue this way then sooner or later you will find yourself having to face Demosthenes’ coalition. Or something very similar.’
The King was very quiet. He stood up and the philosopher could not help noticing the fresh scars on his body while the women dried him with towels and dressed him in clean clothes.
‘How is my boy doing?’ asked Philip suddenly.
‘He is truly one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met in my life. But with the passing of each day it becomes more and more difficult to keep him under control. He keeps track of your endeavours and is champing at the bit. He wants some glory to bask in now, to show his worth. He is afraid that when his turn comes there will be nothing left to conquer.’
Philip shook his head and smiled. ‘As if these were real problems . . . I’ll speak to him. But for the moment I want him to remain here. He must complete his education.’
‘Have you seen Lysippus’ portrait of your son?’
‘Not yet, but I’ve heard it’s wonderful.’
‘It is. Alexander has decided that in the future only Lysippus will be allowed to make his likeness. It really has had a remarkable effect on him.’
‘I have already ordered that copies should be made for all the cities allied with us, for public display. I want the Greeks to see that my son has grown up in the foothills of the mountain of the gods.’
Aristotle accompanied him into the dining chamber, but it would perhaps be better to call it a refectory. Indeed, the philosopher had abolished the dining beds and the low tables and had had tables and chairs introduced, just as in poor people’s homes or under military tents. This arrangement seemed to him to be more appropriate for the atmosphere of study and containment that he strove to maintain at Mieza.
‘Have you noticed whether he has any relations with girls? It’s about time he started,’ observed the King as he walked along a corridor.
‘His is a very reserved temperament, almost shy. But there is that girl, I think her name is Leptine.’
A frown spread over Philip’s forehead. ‘Continue.’
‘There’s not much to tell. She is devoted to him, as if he were a god. And she is certainly the only female to have complete access to him at any hour of the day and night. I know nothing more.’
Philip scratched his chin through his bristly beard. ‘I wouldn’t like him to produce a bastard with that servant. Perhaps it’s best if I send him a “companion” who knows the trade. That way there won’t be any complications and she’ll be able to teach him a few interesting things.’
By now they had reached the entrance to the dining room and Aristotle stopped walking. ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’
‘But she wouldn’t bother your work at all. I’m talking about a person with a first-rate education and excellent experience.’
‘That’s not the point,’ said the philosopher. ‘Alexander has already let you choose his tutor and his portraitist because he loves you and because he is very mature, for his age. But I don’t believe he would allow you to go beyond this, to violate his private life.’
Philip mumbled something incomprehensible and then said, ‘I’m hungry. Is there nothing to eat in this place?’
*
&nb
sp; They all ate together happily and Peritas sat under the table gnawing at the roe-buck bones they threw to the floor for him.
Alexander wanted to hear all the details of the Thracian campaign. What were the enemy’s weapons like and how did they fight? How were their villages and cities fortified? And he wanted to know how the two enemy kings – Cersobleptes and Theres – had fought.
Then, while the servants were clearing up, Philip addressed all those present: ‘Now, allow me to give you permission to take your leave and to wish you all goodnight. I would like to spend some time alone with my son.’
Everyone stood up, said goodnight in turn and retired. Philip and Alexander were left alone in the lamplight, in the large empty hall, sitting opposite each other. All that could be heard, from under the table, was the sound of bones being chewed and broken. Peritas was fully grown now and had teeth as strong as a lion.
‘Is it true that you are leaving immediately?’ asked Alexander. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘I had hoped you would stay for a few days.’
‘I hoped so too, my son.’
There then followed a long silence. Philip never justified his decisions.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I am going to occupy the Athenian settlements on the Chersonese Peninsula. I am building the biggest assault machines ever. I want our fleet in the Straits.’
‘Athens’ grain passes through the Straits.’
‘Exactly.’
‘That will mean war.’
‘Not necessarily. I want them to respect me. If there is to be a pan-Hellenic League it must be understood that I and I alone can be its chief.’
‘Take me with you, Father.’
Philip stared into his son’s eyes. ‘The time is not right, my son. You have to complete your studies, your education, your training.’
‘But I . . .’
‘Listen. You have had some limited experience of a military campaign, you have displayed courage and ability in hunting and I know that you are extremely skilful with your weapons, but believe me when I say that the things you will have to face one day will be a thousand times more demanding. I have seen my men dying of cold and exhaustion, I have seen them suffer atrocious ordeals, with their bodies torn apart. I have seen others plummet from great heights while climbing city walls and then I listened to them cry out in unbearable pain . . . I listened until silence came.
‘And look at me, look at my arms: they look like the branches of a tree that a bear has sharpened his claws on. I have been wounded eleven times – crippled and half-blinded. Alexander, Alexander, you see the glory, but war is above all else horror. It is blood, sweat, excrement; it is dust and mud; it is thirst and hunger, unbearable frost and unbearable heat. Let me face all this for you, for as long as I am able. Stay here at Mieza, Alexander. For one more year.’
The young man said nothing. He knew that those words admitted of no reply. But his father’s wounded, drawn gaze pleaded with him to understand and not to hate him for this decision.
Outside, from far away, there came the rumble of thunder and yellow flashes of lightning suddenly lit up the edges of the great storm clouds gathering over the dark peaks of Mount Bermion.
‘How is Mother?’ asked Alexander all of a sudden.
Philip lowered his eyes.
‘I hear you have taken a new wife. The daughter of a barbarian king.’
‘A Scythian chief. I had to do it. And you will do the same when it is your turn.’
‘I know. But how is Mother?’
‘Well. Under the circumstances.’
‘I’ll be off then. Goodnight, Father.’ He stood up and walked towards the exit, followed by his dog. And Philip envied the animal that would keep his son company, that would hear the rise and fall of his breathing all through the night.
It began to rain – a few large, heavy drops that grew quickly in number. The King, alone now in the empty room, got to his feet. He went out under the portico just as a blinding flash of lightning illuminated the wide courtyard and was immediately followed by a deafening thunderclap. He leaned against a column and stood there motionless watching the rain fall in sheets.
17
THINGS WORKED OUT exactly as Aristotle had predicted: driven into a corner, Perinthus and Byzantium declared their support for Athens and Philip replied by besieging Perinthus, a city on the northern coast of the Hellespont, built on a rocky promontory and linked to the mainland by an isthmus.
He had made his camp on a plain from which he was able to dominate the entire situation and every evening he called his generals to a meeting: Antipater, Parmenion and Cleitus, known as ‘the Black’ because of his black hair, black eyes and dark complexion. He was also almost always in a black mood, but he was an excellent officer.
‘Have they decided to negotiate a surrender – yes or no?’ asked the King as he entered, even before sitting down.
‘No,’ said Parmenion, ‘and in my opinion they are not even entertaining the possibility. The city is cut off by land thanks to our trenches, but they continue to receive supplies by sea from the Byzantine fleet.’
‘And there’s nothing we can do about it,’ added the Black. ‘We do not have control of the sea.’
Philip beat his fist on the table. ‘I couldn’t care less about control of the sea!’ he shouted. ‘In a few days’ time my assault towers will be ready and I will destroy their walls. I want to see just how courageous they’ll be then!’
The Black shook his head.
‘What’s the problem with that?’
‘Nothing. It’s simply that I do not believe it will be so easy.’
‘So you don’t, eh? Well just listen to this: I want those damned machines ready to move within two days at the most, otherwise I’ll be kicking backsides from the chief engineer all the way down to the lowliest joiner. Have you all understood?’
‘We understand perfectly, Sire,’ replied Antipater with his usual patience.
Philip’s anger managed to work miracles in certain situations. In three days the machines began their march towards the walls, groaning and creaking: they were self-standing towers higher than the fortifications of Perinthus, functioning by means of a system of counterweights, and each one could carry hundreds of soldiers with their catapults and battering rams.
The besieged citizens understood what was coming, and the memory of what had happened at Olynthus, the city reduced to ashes by the King of Macedon’s fury, intensified their energies. They dug pits and burned the machines with night raids. Philip had them rebuilt and dug counter-pits to weaken the foundations of the walls while the battering rams were at work non-stop, day and night, with the entire city resounding to the deafening blows.
Finally the walls gave way, but the Macedonian generals were greeted by a bitter surprise. Antipater, the eldest and most respected of them all, was given the job of breaking the bad news to the King.
‘Sire, the walls have collapsed, but I advise you not to send the foot soldiers in.’
‘No? And why ever not?’
‘Come with me and see for yourself.’
They went to one of the towers, climbed up to the very top, and Philip was left speechless by the sight beyond the walls. The citizens of Perinthus had joined together all the buildings in the row of houses on the first terrace of the city, effectively creating a second wall. And because Perinthus was completely terraced, it was obvious that this technique would be repeated to infinity.
‘Damnation,’ growled the King as he came down the tower, back to earth.
He went off to his tent and stayed there for days, sulking and racking his brains as he tried to think up a way out of the blind alley he’d ended up in. But there was more bad news to come and all his chiefs of staff came together to communicate it.
‘Sire,’ announced Parmenion, ‘the Athenians have signed up ten thousand mercenaries using money provided by the Persian governors of Asia Minor and they have already been
brought ashore at Perinthus.’
Philip lowered his head. Unfortunately the eventuality so feared by Aristotle had come to pass – Persia was now aligned directly against Macedon.
‘This really is trouble,’ commented the Black, as if the atmosphere weren’t already gloomy enough.
‘But that’s not all,’ added Antipater.
‘What else is there?’ shouted Philip. ‘Am I expected to pull the words out of your mouths with pincers?’
‘It’s quite simple,’ continued Parmenion. ‘Our fleet is blocked in the Black Sea.’
‘What?’ shouted the King even more loudly. ‘And what exactly was our navy doing in the Black Sea?’
‘They were trying to cut off a convoy of grain for Perinthus, but the Athenians realized what was happening and in a surprise move, under cover of night, they blocked the Bosphorus with their fleet.’
Philip collapsed onto a chair and held his head in his hands. ‘One hundred and thirty ships and three thousand men,’ he murmured. ‘I cannot possibly do without them!’ he shouted as he suddenly stood up and started pacing the tent with his long strides.
Meanwhile, on board their ships in the Bosphorus, the Athenian crews were singing victory songs and every evening, as darkness fell, they would light fires in braziers and reflect the glow off their polished shields so that the Macedonian ships could not attempt to make use of the darkness in trying to run the blockade. But they did not know that when Philip was trapped and unable to make use of brute strength, he turned to his cunning, which made him doubly dangerous.
One night the captain of an Athenian trireme which was patrolling the western coast of the Straits saw a small Macedonian boat coming downstream, trying to keep as close as possible to the shore in order to remain unseen.
The skipper ordered the light from the brazier to be directed towards the shore and the sloop was immediately visible, fully illuminated by the bright rays reflected off the shield.
Child of a Dream Page 11