‘Very well! I will go to him!’ and he left, slamming the door behind him.
Eumenes came running after him along the corridor: ‘Wait! Wait I say!’
‘What is it now?’
‘Let me speak to him first.’
Alexander let him past and watched him shaking his head as he rushed off towards the eastern wing of the palace.
Eumenes knocked and entered without waiting for a response.
‘What’s wrong?’ Philip asked, his face thunderous.
‘Alexander wants to speak to you.’
‘What?’
‘Sire, your son is sorry for his actions, but try to understand him – he feels alone and isolated. He no longer feels close to you, he feels he no longer has your affection. Can you not forgive him? After all, he is little more than a boy. He believed you had abandoned him and fear got the upper hand.’
Eumenes had been expecting an explosion of uncontrollable wrath, but he was amazed to see the King perfectly calm. He was almost shocked by this.
‘Are you well, Sire?’
‘I am fine . . . I am fine. Show him in.’
Eumenes went out and there was Alexander waiting, his face pale.
‘Your father is under great strain,’ he said. ‘He is perhaps even more alone than you are. Remember this.’
The Prince crossed the threshold.
‘Why did you do it?’ Philip asked.
‘I . . .’
‘Why?’ he shouted.
‘Because I felt I had been excluded from your decisions, from your plans, because I was alone, without anyone to help me, to guide me, give me advice. I felt I had to affirm my own dignity, my own self.’
‘By offering to marry the daughter of a servant of the King of Persia?’
Eumenes’ very words, Alexander thought to himself.
‘But why not speak to me?’ Philip continued in a calmer tone of voice. ‘Why not speak with your father?’
‘But you had already chosen Arrhidaeaus over me – my halfwit half-brother.’
‘Exactly!’ shouted Philip, banging his fist on the table. ‘Don’t you think that means something? Is this how Aristotle taught you to reason?’
Alexander stood there in silence and the King stood up and started limping up and down the room.
‘Is the damage I have done so severe?’ asked the Prince after a while.
‘No,’ replied Philip. ‘Even though a matrimonial alliance with a Persian satrap would be extremely useful to me just now when I am planning to move into Asia. But there is a solution to every problem.’
‘I am sorry. It will not happen again. I will wait for you to let me know what my place will be at Cleopatra’s wedding.’
‘Your place? A place befitting the heir to the throne, my son. Go to Eumenes, he has everything in hand and has organized the ceremony down to the tiniest detail.’
Alexander’s face turned deep red at those words and he found himself wanting to embrace his father as he did when Philip used to come and visit him at Mieza. But he wasn’t able to overcome his diffidence and the embarrassment he now felt in his father’s presence since the fateful day on which their relations had taken their turn for the worse. Nevertheless, he looked at his father with a pained expression, almost pleading, and Philip understood. He said, ‘Now clear off and let me get on.’
*
‘Come,’ Eumenes invited him. ‘You must see what your friend is capable of. This wedding will be my masterpiece. The King has dispensed with masters of ceremony and chamberlains and has entrusted me with all the organization. And now,’ he said as he opened a door and gestured for Alexander to enter, ‘just look at this!’
The Prince found himself inside one of the two rooms of the royal armouries which had been almost completely emptied to make room for a large table on trestles on top of which there was a scale model of the royal palace in Aegae, with the sanctuaries and the theatre.
The roofs had been taken off the rooms, exposing the interiors with coloured terracotta figures representing the various personages who were to take part in the grand ceremonies.
Eumenes walked forward and picked up a pointer from the table. ‘Here,’ he explained, indicating a large open room on a colonnaded portico, ‘the wedding will take place here and then the great procession, an extraordinary event, something that has never been seen before.
‘After the ceremony, while the bride is led by her maids to the nuptial chamber for the ritual bath and the dressing of her hair, the procession will take place. The statues of the twelve gods of Olympus will come first, these statues you see here, carried by the ministrants on their shoulders, and among them will be the statue of your father, symbolic of his devotion to the gods and his function as tutelary leader of all Greeks.
‘Then, in the centre, will be the King himself, wearing a white cloak, with a crown of golden oak leaves on his head. A little ahead, on his right, will be your place as heir to the throne, and to the left Alexander of Epirus. You will all proceed towards the theatre. Here it is.
‘The guests and the foreign delegations will take their places at dawn and will be entertained up until the arrival of the procession by shows and recitals by famous actors who have been summoned specially from Athens, from Sycion, and from Corinth, including Thessalus, who I’m told is the actor you admire most.’
*
Alexander rearranged the white cloak on his shoulders and exchanged a quick glance with his uncle. They were both walking slightly ahead of Philip, who was accompanied by his bodyguards. The King of Macedon was dressed in a red tunic, its hem embroidered in gold ovals and palmettes, and over this a rich white cloak, his ivory staff in his right hand, the crown of golden oak leaves on his head. He looked exactly like the small statue Eumenes had shown Alexander in the scale model inside the weapons room.
The royal shoemakers had prepared a pair of tragic actor buskins for him – shoes with very thick soles that were hidden by the hem of his gown and went some way towards correcting his limp and increasing his height.
Eumenes had taken up position on a high wooden structure erected on the highest part of the bowl of the theatre and he signalled to the master of ceremonies using coloured flags to coordinate the impressive procession.
He looked to his right over the large semi-circle, teeming with more people than he ever thought possible, and then, down at the bottom of the access road, he could make out the front of the procession with the statues of the gods. These were wonderfully made by the greatest craftsmen and wore real clothes and real crowns of gold, flanked by their sacred animals, the eagle of Zeus, the owl of Athena, the peacock of Hera, all reproduced with impressive realism – almost as though they might take to the air at any moment.
Behind came the priests decked in their sacred bands, censers in hands, and then a chorus of beautiful young boys as naked as little cupids, singing nuptial songs to the accompaniment of their flutes and drums.
Next came the King preceded by his son and his brother-son-in-law. Bringing up the rear were the seven royal bodyguards in parade dress.
Eumenes gave the signal, the master of ceremonies nodded to the heralds to sound their instruments, and the procession got under way.
It was a splendid sight, which the sun and the extraordinarily clear day made even more spectacular. The beginning of the procession was entering the theatre now and one by one the statues of the gods passed through the semi-circle of the orchestra before being positioned in rows in front of the stage.
As each part of the procession passed under the entrance archway alongside the stage, Eumenes would lose sight of it until it reappeared in the sun inside the theatre.
The priests passed in a cloud of incense and then the young boys dancing and singing their hymns to love for the bride: Eumenes saw them disappear under the arch and re-emerge on the other side among exclamations of wonder from the audience.
Now Alexander of Macedon and Alexander of Epirus passed by and the King came nearer. As
planned, Philip gave orders to his bodyguards not to follow him under the arch because he did not want to present himself to the Greeks flanked by his guard like a tyrant.
Eumenes saw the two young men reappear inside the theatre to rapturous applause, just at the moment when the King disappeared into the shadow of the archway on the other side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bodyguards pull back and he took a quick look at them, but immediately found himself looking more carefully: there was one missing!
At that very instant Philip emerged into the sun inside the theatre and Eumenes, having realized what was about to happen, started shouting at the top of his voice, but the roar of the public acclamation was too strong. It all happened in a flash: the missing bodyguard suddenly appeared out of the darkness, a short dagger in his hand, jumped on the King and plunged the weapon into his side, right up to the hilt, and then began to run away.
Alexander realized that something terrible was happening by the shocked expression on the faces of the audience. He turned round just an instant after his father had been stabbed and saw his face, suddenly pale like the gods’ ivory masks. He saw Philip teeter and hold his side as the blood flowed freely and stained the white cloak.
Behind Philip a man ran off in the direction of the meadows along the road. Alexander hurried towards his father who was falling to his knees now, and Alexander of Epirus ran past them shouting, ‘Stop that man!’
Alexander reached Philip before he collapsed into the dust and he held him while the blood flowed strong and red, wetting his clothes, his arms and his hands.
‘Father!’ he shouted as the sobs came, and he held him tight. ‘Father, no!’ and Philip felt his son’s burning tears on his bloodless cheeks.
The sky above him burst into a myriad bright points of light and then, suddenly, it all went dark. At that moment he saw himself once more at the very centre of a room immersed in darkness while he held a newborn baby to his chest. He felt the smooth skin of the little one against his bristly cheek, felt the baby’s lips on his scar-furrowed shoulder and in the air there was an intense perfume of Pierian roses. Then he sank into darkness and silence.
38
THE ASSASSIN, breathless, ran towards a thicket where other men were waiting for him with a horse, obviously accomplices, who galloped off in their turn as soon as they saw that he was being followed.
The man, alone now, turned round and realized they were closing in on him. Alexander of Epirus had thrown off his cloak and was running with his sword drawn and held high in the air, shouting, ‘Take him alive! Take him alive!’
He started running again, as fast as he could this time, and then, just a few strides away from his horse, he attempted a flying mount but tripped on the root of a vine and went crashing to the ground. He got up immediately, but the guards were already on him and they ran him through many times, killing him instantly.
As soon as the King of Epirus saw what they had done he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘You idiots! I told you to take him alive!’
‘But, Sire, he was armed and he tried to attack us.’
‘Follow the others!’ ordered the King. ‘Follow the others at least and get hold of them!’
By this time Alexander had arrived as well, his clothes still stained with Philip’s blood. He looked at the assassin and then at the King of Epirus and said, ‘I knew him. His name was Pausanias and he was one of my father’s bodyguards. Undress him, hang him from a pole at the entrance to the theatre and leave him there to rot until there’s nothing left but bones.’
In the meantime a crowd had formed around the body – onlookers, men of the royal guard, army officers and foreign guests.
Alexander immediately returned to the theatre, which was rapidly emptying now, and there he found Cleopatra, still wearing her wedding dress, sobbing in despair over their father’s body. Eumenes, standing not far off, his own eyes full of tears and one hand over his mouth, shook his head continually as though simply unable to take in what had happened. There was still no sign of Queen Olympias who had been expected since that morning.
Alexander had the fall-in signal sounded for all the combat units in the surrounding area, then he gave orders to remove his father’s body and to prepare for the funeral rites. He had Cleopatra accompanied to her apartments and requested that armour be found for himself and for his brother-in-law.
‘Eumenes!’ he shouted, rousing his friend from his state of shock. ‘Find the royal seal and bring it to me. And send messengers immediately for Hephaestion, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Seleucus and the others – I want them all here by tomorrow evening.’
The armourers arrived shortly afterwards and the two young men put on their breastplates and greaves, strapped their swords and scabbards on and set off through the crowd, followed by a group of select troops, to occupy the palace. All the members of the royal family were put under strict guard in their quarters, with the exception of Amyntas who appeared dressed in his armour and ready to follow Alexander’s orders: ‘You can count on me and my loyalty. I want no more blood to be spilled.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Alexander. ‘I will not forget this gesture.’
The gates of the city were occupied by groups of shieldsmen and cavalry units. Philotas voluntarily reported to the palace and immediately asked for his orders.
Halfway through the afternoon, Alexander, flanked by the King of Epirus and his cousin Amyntas, appeared before the assembled army. He was armed and dressed in a royal cloak and crown. The message was loud and clear.
The officers had the trumpets sound and the men shouted their salute:
‘Hail, Alexander, King of Macedon!’
Then, at another signal, they started banging their spears against their shields, so that the porticoes of the palace resounded with a deafening clangour.
Having received the salute from the assembled divisions, Alexander gave orders for Bucephalas to be prepared and made ready for departure. Then he summoned Eumenes and Callisthenes, who had also been present at the ceremony.
‘Eumenes, you will take care of my father. Make sure he is washed and embalmed so that his body is well preserved until the funeral, which you yourself will organize. And you will receive my mother, should she arrive. Call an architect and have work begin as soon as possible on the royal tomb.
‘Callisthenes, you will stay here and find out everything you can about the assassin. Look for his friends, his accomplices, try to find out where he went and what he did in the hours before the killing. Interrogate the guards who killed the assassin against my brother-in-law’s orders. If necessary, use torture.’
Eumenes came forward and handed a small casket to Alexander: ‘The royal seal, Sire.’
Alexander took it, opened it and slipped the ring onto his finger. ‘Do you love me, Eumenes? Are you loyal to me?’
‘Of course, Sire.’
‘In that case you must continue to call me Alexander.’
He went out into the parade ground, leaped astride Bucephalas and, leaving a garrison at Aegae under Philotas’ orders, left with his brother-in-law for Pella to take possession of the throne and to demonstrate to the court nobles that he was the new King.
At that stage of the fateful day the theatre was completely empty. Only the statues of the gods remained, abandoned on their pedestals, and, in the diminishing light of the sunset, the statue of Philip whose expression had the same fixed stare as a forgotten divinity.
Suddenly, as darkness began to fall, a shadow seemed to appear from nowhere – a man, his head covered by the hood of his cloak, entered the deserted arena and spent a long time examining the bloodstain that was still there on the ground. Then he turned back and passed through the archway adjacent to the stage. His eyes were drawn to a metal object, bloody and half-hidden in the sand. He bent over to study it with his small, grey, darting eyes, then he picked it up and hid it away among the folds of his cloak.
He proceeded out into the open and stopped in front of the pole to which th
e assassin’s body had been nailed. Everything was wrapped in darkness now and out of it came a voice behind him:
‘Uncle Aristotle, I never imagined I’d find you here.’
‘Callisthenes. A day that was supposed to have been so full of joy has ended up in such sadness.’
‘Alexander had hoped to see you once again, but so much has happened so quickly . . .’
‘I know. I am sorry too. Where is he now?’
‘He is on horseback, leading his troops towards Pella. He wants to make sure there is no possibility of a coup on the part of some groups in the nobility. But what are you doing here? This is not an edifying sight.’
‘Regicide is always a critical point in human events. And, as far as I have heard, there was a premonition from the oracle at Delphi: “Wreathed is the bull. All is done. Ready is the one who will smite him.”’ And then, turning to Pausanias’ mutilated body, ‘Here he is, the one who smote the bull. Who would have thought that this was the meaning of the prophecy!’
‘Alexander has asked me to investigate the crime,’ said Callisthenes, ‘to try to discover who was behind the assassination of his father.’ Far off in the distance, from the sanctums of the palace, came the lugubrious wailing of the mourners crying for the death of the King. ‘Would you like to help me?’ Callisthenes asked. ‘Everything seems so absurd.’
‘That is the key to the crime,’ affirmed Aristotle. ‘Its very absurdity. Why on earth choose such a public form – an assassination in a theatre, like a scene in a tragedy interpreted in real life, with real blood and . . .’ he pulled something from the folds of his cloak, ‘. . . a real knife. A Celtic dagger, to be precise.’
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