When Alexander had finished his education, which included astronomy, and had left school, he gave instruction to his fellow students in his turn. He used to draw them up in ranks for war and send them into battle. Whenever he saw one side being worsted by the other, he took the part of the losing side and helped them until they were winning again. This made it clear that he himself was Victory. He also went on military exercises with the troops, springing on to a horse and riding with them.
One day, Philip’s grooms brought from the stables an exceptionally large colt and led him before the king. ‘O lord king,’ they said, ‘we found this horse just born in the royal stables; and because his beauty excels even that of Pegasus, we have brought him before you, O king.’ Philip was amazed when he saw the beauty and the stature of the horse, which had to be forcibly restrained and kept under guard, because, the grooms said, he was a man-eater. To this King Philip answered: ‘Truly then the proverb of the Greeks is fulfilled, that good grows very close to evil. But since you have brought the horse to me, I will take him.’
Then he ordered his attendants to build an iron cage and to lock the colt inside, unbridled. ‘And whoever is insubordinate to my rule, and has broken the law or been taken in the act of robbery, shall be thrown to the horse.’ At once it was done as the king had ordered.
14. Alexander, meanwhile, was growing up, and when he was twelve years old he accompanied his father to a review of the troops. He wore armour, marched with the troops and leapt on to the horses, prompting this remark from Philip: ‘Alexander, child, I love your character and your nobility, but not your appearance, because you in no way resemble me.’
All this was very irksome to Olympias. She called Nectanebo to her and said, ‘Find out what Philip’s intentions are concerning me.’
Alexander was sitting by them, and when Nectanebo took his tables and examined the heavens, he said, ‘Father, what you call the stars, are they not the ones in heaven!’
‘Of course, my child,’ replied the wizard.
‘Can I not learn them?’ asked Alexander.
‘Yes, child,’ came the reply, ‘when evening comes, you can.’
That evening, Nectanebo took Alexander outside the city to a deserted place, where he looked up into the sky and showed Alexander the stars of heaven. But Alexander, seizing him by the hand, led him to a deep pit and pushed him in. Nectanebo wounded his neck severely in the fall, and cried out, ‘Dear me, child Alexander, what possessed you to do that?’
‘Blame yourself, mathematician,’ Alexander replied.
‘Why, child?’
‘Because, although you do not understand earthly matters, you investigate those of heaven.’
Then Nectanebo said, ‘Child, I am fearfully wounded. But no mortal can overcome destiny.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Alexander.
‘I myself,’ replied Nectanebo, ‘have read my own fate, that I was doomed to be destroyed by my own child. And I have not escaped my fate, but have been killed by you.’
‘Am I then your son?’ asked Alexander.
Then Nectanebo told him the whole story of his kingdom in Egypt and his flight from there, his arrival in Pella and his visit to Olympias to cast her horoscope, and how he came to her disguised as the god Ammon and made love to her. With these words, he breathed his last.
Alexander believed what he heard and, realizing that he had killed his own father, was grief-stricken. He was afraid to leave the body in the pit, lest the wild beasts should come and tear it apart, since it was dark and the place was deserted. Touched now with a feeling of affection for his sire, he tied his belt around Nectanebo’s corpse, lifted him on to his shoulders and carried him back to his mother, Olympias.
Olympias was surprised when she saw him and asked him what had happened. ‘I am a second Aeneas,’ replied Alexander, ‘carrying my Anchises.’ And he told her the whole story in detail, as he had heard it from Nectanebo. Olympias was astounded, and berated herself for having been made a fool of by Nectanebo’s magic arts and tricked into adultery. But she too was seized by affection for him, and had him buried fittingly,15 as father of Alexander. She built a monument and placed it by the grave.
It is a remarkable proof of divine Providence, that Nectanebo the Egyptian was laid to rest in Macedonia in a Greek grave, while Alexander the Macedonian was to be laid to rest in an Egyptian one.
15. When Philip returned from campaign, he went to Delphi to inquire of the oracle who would be king after him. The Pythia at Delphi, taking a sip from the Castalian spring, spoke as follows from her underground chamber: ‘Philip, he who is to rule the whole world and bring all peoples under the power of his spear, will be the one who leaps on to Bucephalus and rides him through the middle of Pella.’ (The horse was called Bucephalus, because he had on his haunch a mark shaped like an ox’s head.)16 When Philip heard the oracle, he began to anticipate a second Heracles.
16. Alexander, meanwhile, now had only one teacher, Aristotle. There were a number of other children in his school, including several sons of kings. One day Aristotle said to one of them, ‘When you inherit your father’s kingdom, what favour will you show me?’
The boy replied, ‘You shall be my sole companion and authority, and I shall make you famous everywhere.’
Then he asked a second boy, ‘When you inherit your father’s kingdom, how will you treat me your teacher?’
The reply was, ‘I shall make you a minister, and my personal adviser in all my judgements.’
Then he asked Alexander, ‘And if you, child Alexander, inherit the kingdom from your father Philip, what will you do for me your teacher?’
Alexander replied, ‘Are you already asking me about things that will happen in the future, when you have no certainty about what will happen tomorrow? I will give you a present when the time and the occasion arise.’ Then Aristotle said, ‘Hail, Alexander, ruler of the world: you will be the greatest king.’
Alexander was well loved by everybody because of his intelligence and warlike prowess, but Philip had mixed feelings. He rejoiced in the military spirit of the boy, but grieved because he did not resemble him in appearance.17
17. Alexander reached the age of fifteen. One day he happened to be passing the place where the horse Bucephalus was locked up, and he heard his terrifying whinny. He turned to his attendants and asked where the neighing came from.
‘My lord,’ replied Ptolemy the general, ‘this is the horse Bucephalus, whom your father had caged up because he is a man-eater.’
When the horse heard Alexander’s voice he whinnied again, but not in the terrifying tones he usually used, but gently and tamely, as if a god were directing him. When Alexander approached the cage, the horse immediately stretched out both his forefeet towards the prince, and licked him with his tongue, acknowledging him as his own master.
When Alexander saw how remarkable the horse was, and saw also the pieces of dismembered human corpses lying around him, he elbowed the horse’s guards aside and opened the cage. Then he grabbed the horse by his mane and leapt on him, bridleless as he was, and rode him through the middle of Pella. One of the grooms ran to Philip, who was outside the city at that time. The king at once remembered the oracle, and he went to Alexander and embraced him with the words, ‘Hail, Alexander, ruler of the world!’ From that day on Philip was full of joy over his son’s future.
18. One day, when Alexander found his father relaxing, he kissed him and said, ‘Father, I beg you to allow me to go to Pisa to the Olympic Games; I want to take part.’18
‘For what event have you been training,’ Philip asked him, ‘that you want to do this?’
‘I want to take part in the chariot race,’ replied the prince.
Then Philip said, ‘Child, I will provide you with suitable horses from my own stables. They will be well looked after. You devote your energies to your training, for the event has great prestige.’
But Alexander replied, ‘Father, please just give me permission to go to th
e contest. I have horses of my own which I have raised since they were young.’
Then Philip kissed Alexander, amazed at his enthusiasm, and said, ‘Child, if that is what you want, go, and good fortune go with you.’
So Alexander went to the harbour and ordered a new ship to be built, and his horses and his chariot to be loaded on board. Then he embarked with his friend Hephaestion, sailed away and arrived at Pisa. On arrival he was showered with gifts; he ordered his slaves to rub down the horses, while he went for a walk with Hephaestion.
They encountered Nicolaus, the son of Andreas, king of Acarnania, who exulted in his wealth and good fortune, those two unstable gods, and placed great confidence in his own bodily strength. He came up to Alexander and greeted him, ‘Greetings, young man!’
And Alexander replied, ‘Greetings to you, too, whoever you may be and wherever you come from.’
‘I am Nicolaus, the king of Acarnania.’
Alexander replied, ‘Do not pride yourself so, King Nicolaus, and glory in the assumption that your life will last to the morrow; for fate is not accustomed to stay in one place, but a turn of the balance makes mock of the boastful man.’
‘Your words are true,’ replied Nicolaus, ‘but not so your thoughts. Why are you here? As a spectator or as a competitor? I know who you are; you are the son of Philip of Macedon.’
‘I am here,’ said Alexander, ‘to compete with you in the horse-chariot race, even though I am still young.’
‘Surely,’ said Nicolaus, ‘you should have come rather as a wrestler, or pancratiast, or boxer.’
Alexander said again, ‘I have come for the chariot race.’
Nicolaus began to boil with rage, and to despise Alexander because of his youth, knowing nothing of the extent of his mettle. He spat at him and cried, ‘Bad luck to you! See to what a pass the Olympic Games have now come.’
But Alexander, to whom it came naturally to control his feelings, wiped away the insulting spittle and said, with a murderous smile, ‘Nicolaus, before long I shall defeat you, and I shall take you prisoner in your homeland of Acarnania.’ And the two parted as enemies.
19. Some days later the appointed time for the Games arrived. There were nine who entered for the chariot race, four of them the sons of kings: Nicolaus the Acarnanian, Xanthias the Boeotian, Cimon the Corinthian and Alexander the Macedonian; the rest were the sons of generals and satraps. Then everything was made ready for the contest and the lots were drawn from an urn. The first track went to Nicolaus, the second to Xanthias, the third to Cimon, the fourth to Clitomachus, the fifth to Aristippus of Olynthus, the sixth to Pierius of Phocis, the seventh to Cimon of Lindos, the eighth to Alexander of Macedon, and the ninth to Critomachus19 of Locri. So they lined up for the race, and the trumpet sounded the fanfare for the start; the starting-gates were raised, and they all bounded forth with the utmost energy. They went one, two, three and four times around the turning-post. [Behold, Nicolaus was clothed in heavenly garb, and his companion Cimon of Corinth was dressed like him. After these was the Olympian, Laomedon, and Alexander, like the rising sun. There was a tremendous clamour as the partisans of the Olympian cried out to Laomedon, ‘Why do you want to throw away your life, Laomedon? Have you come to fight with a mere youth? Do not agree to drive the chariot.’
But Laomedon replied to them, ‘You of Olympus, leave me alone: I shall win a garland from this youth by the grace of Zeus the Kindly. An oracle foretold that I should win my father’s kingdom as a result of this contest.’
Then Alexander took his hand and said, ‘Behold the new Oenomaus.’
Meanwhile, each of them was getting ready. Alexander yoked two dappled horses to his chariot, while the outriders were chestnuts, Bucephalus on the right, Petasios on the left. They looked so fine and noble that everyone said Alexander’s horses must have been born on Olympus. The standard-bearer was ready, the spectators were ready, the supporters were shouting, Zeus was looking down from above, and the priest of Zeus in charge of the Games was seated on the Capitol.18 The crowd was eager for the show to start; they were looking not at the Olympian but at Alexander, to see how he would fare. There were tens of thousands there, and every eye was on Alexander.
Then Alexander gave the signal, the standard-bearer signalled to the crowd with his hand, and the starting-gates were raised. Everyone was agog. Nicolaus and Callisthenes came out together, with Alexander jammed between them; both of them were casting about to see how they could kill him. γ-text] Those who were in the rear soon lost ground because their horses began to tire. Alexander was in fourth place, and behind him was Nicolaus, less keen to win than to destroy Alexander. (Nicolaus’ father had been killed in battle by Philip.) Alexander was intelligent enough to realize this, and when the leading chariots crashed and overturned one another, he let Nicolaus overtake him. Nicolaus, unaware of the trap, drove past expecting to win the garland.
And it was Nicolaus who was in the lead, when, after two rounds of the turning-post, Alexander urged his horses on and drew level with him. As he went by, he caught Nicolaus’ axle from behind: the chariot was entirely overturned, the charioteer was thrown out and Nicolaus was killed. So only Alexander was left in the race. The dead man had been a victim of the proverbial truth: ‘Who makes a trap for another, will fall in it himself.’
Alexander was crowned as victor and, wearing the olive garland of victory, he approached the temple of Olympian Zeus. There the prophet of Zeus said to him, ‘Alexander, this is the prophecy of Olympian Zeus: as you have conquered Nicolaus, so you will conquer many others in war.’
20. [Alexander accepted the acclamation and returned victorious from Rome.18 Many people – almost all the city in fact – came out with him, as well as Laomedon, his driver; being a good young man, and deserving of the gods, Alexander did not want to abandon him. Anyhow, they came home. Full of wonder at the bravery and intelligence of Alexander, the Macedonians composed a hymn of celebration:
‘Boast Philip, Rejoice Macedonia,
The one for being the father of Alexander,
The other for being the country of this most glorious man.
Welcome him with garlands,
The unconquered victor, the great ruler:
He rose up in glory at Rome,
When he competed like the sun in the stadium,
And blotted out all the other stars.
Welcome him now, shining Macedonia.
Hand over his enemies to him:
Alexander is king of all the world.’
Singing this song, they marched around the city holding branches of bay in their hands, γ-text]
With this excellent omen in his mind, Alexander returned victorious to Macedon. There, he found that his mother, Olympias, had been rejected by King Philip, who had taken a new wife, the sister of Lysias,20 Cleopatra by name. The marriage was being celebrated that very day. Alexander, still wearing his crown of victory, went into the banqueting hall and said to Philip, ‘Father, receive this crown of victory, the reward of my first efforts. And when I give my mother, Olympias, in marriage to another king, I shall invite you to the wedding.’ So saying, Alexander took his place opposite Philip, but Philip was angry at his words. [Those who were sitting with him noticed from his face that he was angry, and sent a cup to Philip; but he refused to drink, γ-text]
21. Lysias, who was also reclining at the table, turned to Philip. ‘King,’ he said, ‘ruler of the whole city, we now solemnize the marriage to you of our virtuous sister Cleopatra, from whom you shall breed legitimate children, no sons of adulterers, and resembling you in appearance.’ When Alexander heard this he was very angry; at once he hurled his goblet at Lysias, struck him on the temple and killed him. When Philip saw what had happened, he leapt up, drew his sword, and rushed at Alexander in a rage; but he tripped on the edge of his couch and fell over.
Alexander laughed and said to Philip, ‘You are eager to conquer all Asia and to destroy Europe to its foundations, yet you are unable to take a single step.�
� Then he in turn seized the sword from his father, and laid about him till all the guests were battered and bleeding. It was just like the battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs: some were hiding under the couches, others were using the tables as weapons, and yet others were scurrying away into dark places to watch this new Odysseus destroying the suitors of Penelope.
Alexander went and brought his mother, Olympias, to the palace, having thus avenged her marriage. He sent Lysias’ sister Cleopatra into exile. The guards lifted up Philip, who was in a very poor way, and laid him on his bed.
22. Ten days later, Alexander went to Philip’s room and sat down beside him. ‘King Philip,’ he said, ‘– I shall call you by this name, since you will no longer take pleasure in hearing me call you Father – I have come to you not as a son but as a friend and intermediary, on account of the wrong you have done your wife.’
‘It was a wicked thing you did,’ said Philip, ‘to kill Lysias because he had made an unseemly remark.’
But Alexander replied, ‘Did you then do well to leap up with your sword drawn against your own son, meaning to kill me, because you wanted to marry another woman, although your first wife, Olympias, had given you no cause for complaint? Get up then, and have confidence in yourself – for I know why your body is so weak – and let us forget our past misdemeanours. Now, I will call my mother Olympias here to be reconciled with you. She will be persuaded by her son, even though you wish not to be called my father.’
So Alexander went out and went to Olympias and said, ‘Mother, do not be angry at what your husband has done. He knows nothing of your sin, while I, being the son of an Egyptian father, am a constant accusation. Go then and beg for a reconciliation. It is right that a woman should be ruled by her husband.’
The Greek Alexander Romance Page 6