Alexander calmed again. "We're in agreement then, father. I'll accompany you into Persia. Only the gods know our fate."
Philip laughed his irritating, raucous laugh and turned from his son toward his new son-in-law. The king whispered something into the other Alexander's ear, causing the king of Epirus to rise from his couch and walk out of the banquet hall. Soon Alexander of Epirus returned, accompanying an older man wearing tattered religious robes. The old man was a soothsayer. His robe had once been white, but now had a dingy, yellow cast. He was out of place in the gathering.
King Philip rose, showing everyone the results of his excessive drinking, then banged his silver rhyton on the wooden table. The hall quieted and the king, with slurred words, addressed the guests. "Weeks ago, after I was named supreme Greek commander of the expedition into Persia, I sent a rep ... representative… to the Shrine of Apollo at Delphi. The sibyl was asked how the gods view our chances in the coming invasion. Her prophecy was favorable. I invited one of Apollo's priests to attend this celebration. I ask him now to relate the sacred message from the son of Zeus."
The king half fell, half reclined on his couch and motioned for the priest to announce the holy message. The old priest, bent by age and inadequate diet, shuffled to a central position before the guests. He closed his eyes, outstretched his arms, and began to speak in a voice that was otherworldly. "The bull has been garlanded. The end is come. The sacrificer is at hand." Finished, the old man seemed to collapse without falling to the floor. Attendants helped him from the banquet hall. Buzzing guests reacted to his prophetic words.
Philip rose again, beaming at the words he took as a prediction of his eventual victory over the new Persian Great King. "There you are Macedonians, Greeks, and guests. The sacrificer you see before you will soon garland the bull of Persia. The Great King's end is at hand. The sibyl has relayed the prophecy of Apollo himself. All doubts are erased. Nothing can stop us!"
There was scattered applause and shouts of support around the hall. Philip saw his son, Alexander, use the group's reaction to rise from his couch and leave. The prince looked neither at Philip nor anyone else as he departed. Good riddance. He’ll only cause more trouble if he stays. Philip then summoned the Greek actor, Neoptolemus, to recite lines that he knew would glorify him as much as the Delphic prophecy.
Neoptolemus commanded silence from the celebrants, and then began to speak. "Your thoughts reach higher than the air. You dream of a wide field's cultivation. But there is one who robs us of our distant hopes: death, mortals' source of many woes."
Unlike the previous oracular prophecy, Philip didn't rise to interpret it in a favorable light. The king appeared shaken by the actor's lines. He told a Royal Companion commander to send the thespian back to Athens with only half the considerable fee that he had agreed to pay him. Then, with perfect timing, a politically astute representative from Athens rescued the awkward moment by rising from his couch and addressing the guests.
"King Philip," he began, "as representative to your daughter's wedding from Athens, I bring you good wishes and an honor from the Athenian demos." He reached behind him and removed a golden crown from a box. Walking toward Philip, he held the magnificent diadem high above his head for the gathering to see. He placed it on the king's head and stepped away. Philip stood to bask in the tumultuous reaction that issued from the banquet guests. When the roar subsided, the Athenian continued.
"Our demos also authorized me to tell you and the representatives gathered here that our city will never harbor any person who stands against you. Should anyone present himself for safe haven in Athens, he will be sent immediately in chains to the nearest Macedonian garrison. There can be no doubt about your victory, Philip. Egypt, Persia's most remote province, is in rebellion again. Everyone knows that King Artaxerxes of Persia is dead. Clearly, the Persians are weakened mortally; our time has come. Greece is behind you, Philip. We have affirmation from the gods themselves that you will not fail. Let not a few lines from Aeschylus trouble you. Dramatic license is one thing. The might of the Macedonian army is another."
The king was touched, yet suspicious of the show of support from his former enemy. He stagger-walked to the delegate, embraced him then plunged into the crowd, mingling with his guests. He commonly drank countless toasts, far into the night. Yet, before sunrise the next day he would recover, sufficiently clearheaded so that the day's business could be conducted without even the slightest hint of the previous night's inebriation. As he reveled, he realized that tomorrow, before the games and athletic contests, the crowning moment of his life would be fulfilled. Only complete victory over the Persians could surpass this supreme moment for King Philip II of Macedon.
The wedding guests had been notified that they should be in their seats at the Aigai theater, precisely at sunrise on the second day of the festivities. Most of them had received bribes and lavish gifts from King Philip and his agents the previous night. They were more than willing to arise before daylight to honor their benefactor for a second day. They also understood that Philip's deification was to occur exactly as the morning sun bathed the lower Macedonian plain, below and east of Aigai. After Philip's affront to the gods, the athletic games were to commence. Rumor had it that the king's entrance would be unforgettable.
King Philip awakened long before sunrise, recovered from his previous night's drinking. With a slave’s assistance, he dressed in an unimpressive military uniform. Then he called for a chariot to take him the short distance down Aigai hillside to the theater, where his procession was to begin. His lame leg had made hill walking almost impossible in recent years.
The early morning air was cool when he arrived. It was just as he liked it. Slaves and artisans working by torchlight were giving final touches to the objects that would lead the procession with the coming of dawn. He was pleased that his plans had been carried out as ordered. Splendid statues of the twelve Greek gods, headed by fearsome Zeus, were already atop wooden platforms. Each platform had four sturdy cornel wood handles for slaves to carry the statues into the theater. The statues, slightly larger than life-size, were carved from the finest marble in Macedonia. Each was colorfully painted and was as lifelike as cold stone could be made to appear. The thirteenth statue was of the king. It had been made larger than the other twelve, although that would be difficult for most of the guests in the theater to see the difference. Philip's statue was carved wearing a cloak that had been painted white. It was trimmed in royal purple on the sleeve cuffs and around the neck. On the back was a large, yellow, sixteen-pointed Macedonian starburst. The king's statue, like Zeus, was shown holding a fierce eagle with folded wings in one outstretched hand. A vertical beaded scepter was held in the other. His full, thick, beard was shown as a curly black mass that surrounded a war-ravaged face. Even his blind right eye was clearly carved into the statue's middle-aged face.
"It's just as I imagined," the king said to the artists who awaited their king's approval. "I can’t wait to hear the reactions. Word of this statue will spread throughout Greece, even into Persia. The model is good enough to be copied. I want it placed in the temple of every city we've conquered."
He left the theater and rode the chariot back up the hill to the palace. A leisurely bath awaited him, given by three of the king's favorite boys. He was scented, given a final trim of his hair and thick beard, and escorted to his private bedchamber. Awaiting him there were four royal tailors who had made the king's cloak. He was dressed amid obsequious banter that appealed to his rising vanity. “Your cloak took a hundred days to complete, King Philip,” his chief tailor remarked proudly. “I hope it becomes the ceremonial standard for all future Macedonian kings.”
“I’ll order it after the deification ceremony,” Philip responded smugly. “Unborn generations will marvel at it. You have pleased your king and will be rewarded.”
Fully dressed, Philip called for a priest of Dionysus to give his final blessing.
“This celebration culminates your life,�
� the priest told him. “All the signs from the wine god are good. He will accompany you to your destiny today.” Then the old priest frowned and warned his monarch. “But you must not use a chariot today. Dionysus himself has issued the warning.”
The admonition alarmed Philip. He had already ridden in a chariot to and from the theater earlier in the morning. These inept priests; if I had their timing I wouldn’t still be king. He put it out of his mind and dismissed the priest.
“Get the litter ready that I was going to use for my entrance,” he told a palace slave. Have it waiting under the veranda, on the north side of the palace.” Then he barked a command to one of his young bodyguards. “I want to left alone.”
The bodyguards left and Philip knelt before his private altar to Dionysus and gave thanks. “I am ready, great Dionysus. Take me to your presence. Like you, I have earned immortality. I am worthy to be called the thirteenth god forever more. Even Alexander accepts that now.” The prayer was more of a command he might give his generals than genuine supplication to a god. But Philip’s prayers had always been like that. It had worked well for him so far. With difficulty, he arose unassisted, turned from the bedchamber altar, and walked to his outer reception room.
Philip smiled at Macedon’s chief priest, bowing along with the king’s other attendants. Then he walked out into the palace colonnade, accompanied by his royal bodyguards. The entourage left the palace as the eastern sky effused a pinkish glow. Philip studied the horizon and was pleased. He turned and entered his royal litter. It was different from his other royal litters. Open sided, it had been designed so that the king could enter the theater in it and still be seen by his guests. It was lavishly decorated with scenes of his military victories and was sure to impress. The litter was lifted atop the shoulders of six slaves who began their march to the theater.
At the theater, Philip stumbled out of the litter, laughing and joking with the young men who made up his personal bodyguard. Pausanius, the newly appointed captain of Philip's guard, was told to wait at the theater entrance. Waiting nearby were the two Alexanders, his son and his son-in-law.
"I want my body guards at least one hundred paces behind the king and both Alexanders," he barked. "Let it be known that I'm protected by the good will of the Greeks, not guarded constantly like an effete Persian Great King.”
Pausanius approached the king. "Everyone is seated," he said. "It's time to begin the procession. Your time has come."
Philip climbed again into the litter and began adjusting his clothing and cloak. Two slaves and a tailor helped him. The twelve statues, led by Zeus, were then lifted onto the shoulders of slaves. The front of the procession started a slow movement into the eastern entrance of the theater. Philip's litter was lifted atop his slaves' shoulders, immediately behind his own statue. He awaited the clarion signal of trumpets and his moment.
While the king waited, he introspected. How far had he come. How much he had won. Won under nearly hopeless conditions. Any man who was not worthy of being called a god would not have succeeded as he had. Philip's thoughts returned to his teenage years. His reveries were uncannily realistic. For several moments, he was a naive, frightened, fifteen-year-old, Theban hostage, not knowing whether he would live or die with the coming of a new day.
CHAPTER 2
Prince Philip felt and looked like the wild animals that he had hunted since his earliest youth. During the long horseback ride to Thebes, he had thought about Macedon's and his precarious situation. Prince though he was, he was now a hostage. Taken by forces that he little understood, he turned inward for strength. This fortitude seeking was not a new experience. He had learned it living in the tumultuous Macedonian royal family. Scandals involving his mother and father were part of his earliest memories. Old king Amyntas, his father, had nearly been assassinated by Philip's young mother, Eurydice, and her lover, Ptolemy. Dynastic murders and self-perpetuating political marriages were well-known characteristics of Macedon's monarchs. Now his mother’s lover had murdered Philip’s oldest brother. Ambitious Ptolemy then assumed the Macedonian regency since Perdiccas, Philip's other brother, was still a minor.
These events had been more than Thebes, the military power south of Macedon, could tolerate. They intervened using the power of their dominant army. This not only strengthened the northern position of Thebes, it effectively countered the growing power of Thessaly. As part of the settlement, the Theban general Pelopidas had demanded from Ptolemy that Philip be given as a hostage. Ptolemy was eager to comply with the demand. The prince was not the only hostage taken. With him were nearly fifty aristocratic sons of Macedonian tribal leaders. The Thebans wanted peaceful dominance of Macedon. Flesh and blood hostages were the best way to ensure stability.
Philip guessed that his chances of living beyond adolescence, to say nothing of ever returning to Macedonia, were remote. An ominous pall enveloped him as the journey south neared its end. The young prince was jolted out of his musings by a sudden lunge of his horse. The animal was startled by a fast approaching Pelopidas, the leader of his captors.
"Soon we'll arrive at the northern outpost marking our entry into Boeotia," Pelopidas said as he reined his horse to a slow trot beside Philip. "When we reach the southern end of Lake Copais we'll be close to Thebes. You'll spend the remaining years of your youth there. How do you feel about your captivity?"
Philip measured his words before speaking. "I miss my brother and my homeland, Pelopidas. The only right you have to hold me is because of your military power. If Macedon held that power, I wouldn’t be a hostage. But if your holding me will help restore our royal line, I'm willing to sacrifice my freedom. I'm young; Greece will still hear from me."
Pelopidas frowned, as he studied the youth. Philip’s nearly incomprehensible Macedonian Greek was atrocious,. The two riders approached a small stream and began to cross it. Pelopidas remained silent. At last, he reacted to Philip's answer. "Greece may only remember you as a Theban, Philip. You may never become more than one of our hoplites. Don't harbor hopes of returning to Macedonia." With those ominous words, he rode away from the prince and resumed his position at the head of the procession.
Shortly after nightfall, the procession entered the main gate of Thebes. Normally, all gates surrounding Greek cities were closed with the coming of night. Tonight, Pelopidas had sent riders ahead to announce their late arrival and the gates had been left open. The group’s Sacred Band escorts set up camp around the city walls. Pelopidas, Philip, and the remaining hostages then entered Thebes, the home of Oedipus, Antigone, Aeschylus, and Sophocles. It was backward compared to Athens, but was held high in Greece's common culture because of its esteemed literary figures.
Fifteen-year-old Philip heard the gates close behind him and wondered whether he would ever be allowed to leave the Boeotian capital. A black night surrounded him, affording only a limited view of the city that was to be his forced home. He knew how most Greek cities were built. Nearly all had a central acropolis that occupied a mountain or hilltop. It was on these central mounts that most cities had first developed, since the high ground was easiest to defend. Thebes had no natural acropolis, so her leaders had over the generations built one. It was called the Cadmea.
"When we reach the Cadmea, you'll meet Epaminondas," Pelopidas said. "I’m surprised he wants to see you so late."
"What's he going to do with me?” the prince asked.
"He'll tell you. Have you heard of Epaminondas?"
"Everyone in Greece knows of Epaminondas. We have a high regard for his military genius."
"Military genius he is," countered Pelopidas. "But he's our greatest leader and thinker as well. I know him both as a friend and a lover. Civilized men will remember his greatness. Listen to his words. Emulate his example. You'll escape barbarity by doing that alone."
Philip didn't know what emulate meant, nor did he feel that he needed to escape barbarity. Greeks had an arrogant habit of calling other peoples barbarians if they didn't live exactly as the
y did. It was clear that this haughty Theban attitude was going to be one of the hardest parts of his captivity. The prince considered asking about the love relationship between Pelopidas and Epaminondas, and then decided against it. The remark only confirmed what had been rumored in his homeland about the two Thebans. Men loving men was common in Macedonia. Philip himself had experienced sexual activity with boys his age. But as Macedonian men matured, most grew out of it, took a wife, and were content to have a series of mistresses for the rest of their lives. Here were the two Theban leaders, men in their early forties, who openly professed sexual love for each other. It was best to remain silent about this situation until he understood it more.
In the darkness, Philip saw the thick Cadmea walls and could just make out a narrow, torch-lit ramp leading to its top. Leaving the cobblestone streets, they started to climb. As the group made their way up the citadel incline, the boy hostage was filled with foreboding, wondering whether he would ever be allowed to come down from this lofty prison. Pelopidas led the group to an impressive building on the summit. It was here that Epaminondas lived.
The Macedonian prince knew more about Epaminondas than he had let on to Pelopidas. His father had told him that the year that he was born, Sparta had occupied this very acropolis. Philip had been eleven when Epaminondas had defeated the Spartans at the battle of Leuctra. The victory made Thebes the dominant Greek city-state. The man who had defeated mighty Sparta awaited them in the palace they were now approaching.
Pelopidas and the group dismounted. Slaves led their horses away as the hostages stood waiting in the cool night air. Philip could smell the scent of farms animals outside the city gates, blown by a gentle wind up the side of the Cadmea.
Pelopidas approached them and shouted into the still night. "All hostages, except Philip, wait here. You'll be given temporary quarters tonight. Tomorrow you will be moved to the lower city. Philip, come with me."
Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon Page 2