Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon

by Peter Messmore

  "Time for that will come soon enough. I promise you that the love-making lessons I have taken will not disappoint. Epirote women surpass anything your Macedonian women know about sexual intercourse. If your reputation is even close to what I have heard, I will be son-pregnant before next month. You're not just gaining a queen; soon you will become the father of the future king of Macedon. Your life and mine will change. It's foretold in the prophecies at the Dodona Shrine that the world will never be the same because of our union. I bid you farewell now, Philip. You'll not see me again until we ride the wagon at our wedding procession."

  With these seductive words, she left Philip's quarters. The king returned to his couch and held his head in his hands. He considered what he had just been told. Clearly, she captivated him. Yet something troubled him about the self-assured woman. Perhaps it was just that he wanted her so. Philip had been successful since his Theban captivity by not allowing anyone to know what he was thinking. But she could practically read his heart. She already knew her influence over him, as did everyone in his court.

  Arriving at no immediate resolution for his anxiety, he dismissed it and began looking at military dispatches from the siege of Amphipolis. He would handle his comely bride-to-be after the wedding. Her defenses would fall, just like the supposedly impregnable walls of Amphipolis. He displayed a self-satisfied smile, knowing that he was Philip of Macedon, conqueror of cities and women.

  The wedding day arrived and Pella was in a clamorous, celebratory mood. The wedding ceremony was to be the first event in the three-day celebration. As was his custom, the king arose long before sunrise and went riding with several of his Royal Companion guards in the hills around Pella. He then returned to the palace, where he was given a bath and dressed by his servants. Philip wore a purple chiton, in the Athenian style. On his head was placed the just-completed golden crown of Macedon. It was a spectacular diadem, wrought to look like oak leaves and acorns. The crown featured over two hundred leaves and eighty acorns. It seemed to radiate light and Zeus's power as the king wore it proudly around his bedchamber. Pleased with his appearance, Philip went outside the palace to await his queen.

  He beamed as he walked slowly down the stairs. At the bottom was a simple wooden wagon. Three white oxen were hitched to it, held nervously in place by a slave. In front of the slave was a young girl who carried a small, empty amphora. Beside her, a young boy nervously fingered a small flute. King Philip of Macedon awaited his future queen.

  Myrtle appeared at the top of the palace stairs and Philip studied her with pride. She was resplendent in a totally white gown. Small semiprecious and precious stones were sewn into patterns on the bodice of her peplos. The sparkling garment reached to the floor. A semitransparent veil covered her face, yet revealed the beautiful woman behind it. She waited briefly, then descended the steps and joined her husband-to-be. Philip helped his queen onto the crude wooden seat and joined her there. The slave tugged at the oxen and the wagon containing the royal couple started through Pella's narrow streets toward the Temple of Demeter. The young boy's euphonious flute music announced to the waiting throng that the royal couple was approaching. Along the procession route, Pella's inhabitants clamored to see the Epirote princess who would soon to become their queen.

  “Here they come!” they yelled. “Look at the queen,” women shouted.

  “Isn’t she beautiful,” men remarked jealously.

  A pregnant wife of one of Philip’s soldiers was so taken with Myrtle that she changed the name of her unborn baby at that very moment. “I was going to name it after my mother, if it was a girl,” she told her husband. “But now, after I have seen Myrtle, I must name it after her.” Her husband agreed, as the royal couple passed them.

  The procession arrived at the Temple of Demeter, where a series of priests and a solitary priestess said ancient words over the kneeling couple. Finally, they told the king that when he received the bride from her uncle, they would be officially married. Arybbas picked up his niece, handed her to Philip, and Myrtle became Philip's wife and queen of Macedon.

  “I love you, Philip,” Myrtle said with wide eyes. “You will always be proud of me.”

  “I am now and always will be,“ the king answered as he put her down. He pulled Myrtle to him and kissed her recklessly. His hands found her round buttocks and stroked them as the kiss started to become something more.

  A gaggle of priests, the priestess, and Arybbas watched the scene, aghast.

  Myrtle withdrew from her husband, smiling. “Wait, Philip. Until we are alone. Your countrymen await us outside.” She glanced down at his swollen member, protruding under his purple chiton. “They’ll think that you have hidden Macedon’s royal scepter under your robe.” Her eyes sparkled; a coy look painted her lovely, alabaster face.

  Philip’s face reddened. Then he laughed, pushed down his organ, and smoothed his chiton. “I’m a sexually impulsive man. I never act that way as king. But, you’re right: there will be time for that soon enough. You won’t be disappointed,” he concluded with male pride.

  The couple walked down the high temple steps, stood briefly on the lowest level so everyone could see them, and then moved toward two litters awaiting them at street level. There was a great roar, as Pella’s citizens all cried out in acclaim for their new queen.

  Myrtle was taken alone by royal litter to join her uncle, who had already left for the royal banquet hall.

  Philip was also transported by litter to the hall, but he arrived much later. The ebullient monarch stopped frequently to receive the crowd's cheers and wishes of long life.

  The great banquet hall of Macedonian kings had been recently enlarged so that three hundred seated guests could dine in comfort. Normally, a new groom was not allowed to talk to anyone and was required to await his bride at the front of the hall. Tradition required that he speak only to his wife and no one else during the remainder of the wedding day. But King Philip ignored the custom and thrust himself into the crowd of dignitaries and guests who reclined on small couches. Gregarious as ever, he reveled in the socializing and used the occasion to enrich guests who pleased him. Suddenly, combined sounds of flutes, harps, guslas and lyres playing the Macedonian wedding song filled the chamber. Philip responded to the musical cue and went to the front of the hall, awaiting his bride's entrance.

  Myrtle and Arybbas stood outside the rear door of the banquet hall. Arybbas kissed his niece's hand, held her at arm’s length, and told her she was beautiful. He started to pick her up for their grand entrance but was rebuffed.

  “Not yet. Let them wait. I deserve their patience. Anticipation is a powerful force, Uncle. Observe its power when we enter."

  Arybbas, annoyed with Myrtle's unrelenting, arrogant demeanor at such a moment, allowed the manipulation. He knew her character, but now was not a time for redressing his illmannered niece. She would soon be out of his life. Of greater importance was what he stood to gain politically in Epirus because of this marriage. That's all that matters, he thought. Soon she would become Philip's problem. Arybbas examined his eighteen-year-old niece as they waited and realized what a prize Philip was getting. He was fortunate that the king didn't really know her. If he did, this marriage would not be taking place.

  Inside the hall, the king and his guests were becoming impatient, even rowdy. Still, the door remained shut. Finally, Philip could stand it no longer. He shouted from the depths of his barrel chest, "Bring on the queen, before I change my mind."

  There was immediate and uncontrolled laughter, yet the door remained closed. Philip, now even more annoyed, started toward the rear door. Then, slowly the bronze doors opened. The king stopped in mid-stride and beheld his bride being carried into the chamber by her uncle. He returned to the raised dais at the front of the hall and awaited the presentation.

  Arybbas approached Philip, handed the stunning princess to the king, and exchanged positions. "I give you my niece, Myrtle of Epirus, in marriage. Since her father, Neoptolemus, died when she w
as still a child, the responsibility is mine. May this marriage symbolize unity between our two nations. The chests of precious gold and gems from our newest mine in the Pindus Mountains are your dowries. The clear gems are called diamonds, and I know they are unknown in Macedonia. Ten of the fifteen chests before you contain them. They have the radiance of stars when cut and polished. May your marriage to Myrtle equal their brilliance."

  "I accept your niece as my queen, Arybbas," Philip answered. He carried his bride to the chests of diamonds and put her down. Excitedly, they examined the fiery stones. The gems were new even to Myrtle. She and Philip ran their hands through the hundreds of shining gems. Philip whispered something to his bride and then they dipped into the chests with both hands and began to distribute the glittering stones to their guests. The king made sure that the largest ones went to his strongest supporters, but even the least among the guests received a glittering jewel the size of a man's smallest fingernail.

  A royal feast was then served. All manner of food—freshly killed meat, fish, shellfish, eels, shark meat, vegetables cut that morning from the Gardens of Midas, rare sweet honey, cheesecake deserts, and uncut Macedonian wine were placed before the guests. The dignity of the marriage ceremony was quickly replaced with the sensuous sounds of people consuming vast quantities of food and drink. As the food was consumed, bones, hunks of fat, and even half-chewed pieces of food were discarded on the floor, to be picked up by waiting slaves.

  Philip and Myrtle ate small portions, and then left the hall before their guests had finished eating. Ten royal companions escorted them to the king's private bedchamber. The royal couple entered, the doors were closed and locked, and the companions took up their watch positions. Tradition and duty mandated that they remain on guard until the marriage had been consummated.

  Philip's bedchamber had been especially prepared for his marriage. An enormous bed, one and one half times as long as the king, had been completed recently by court carpenters. Its four posts were intricately carved from cornel wood. Small ivory images of the Olympian gods were inlaid into the bed's posts. Precious gems were mounted on each post top. Transparent veils of a thin material that Philip had ordered from distant Lydia graced a frame atop the bed. They formed a diaphanous web that hung seductively along the sides of the frame and slowly bellowed before a late autumn breeze wafting gently through the open window. The bed's sheets were made of multicolored cotton, embroidered with symbols of Macedonian myths and fables.

  Somewhere outside, muted, lovely music was heard. Myrtle recognized the strains of her favorite Epirote tune as she and her husband walked to the room's center. "I've loved that melody since my father's death. How did you know that?"

  "That doesn't matter. It only matters that it pleases you. I want you happy. Get out of that wedding gown and come to me, so I can show you my true feelings."

  Myrtle smiled and chastened her husband. "A queen must have time to prepare for her king. I won't make you wait as long as I did for the banquet, but wait you must." She left the room and entered the king's bath.

  Philip's patience was growing short with this woman. Never had her sex made him wait so much. He undressed quickly and stretched out nude on his spacious bed. Waiting, he fondled his engorged organ. It needed little stimulation to grow to its maximum size.

  From the bath he heard sounds of water being poured and his wife gently singing the song's lyrics. Then Myrtle emerged. She was accompanied by the most pungent, sweet-smelling fragrance that Philip had ever smelled. He sat up on the bed with flaring nostrils.

  Myrtle was nude. Her auburn hair had been released, forming a cloak around her shoulders and lower back.

  Philip had never seen such pristine skin. Her medium-sized breasts were uplifted and proud. Each wore a broad, circular areola, punctuated by two erect, dark brown nipples. The left nipple wore a tiny golden ring. His eyes descended quickly to her small waist and reddish-brown pubic hair.

  "Come to me," Philip said.

  "Does my body please you?"

  "Stop the game, woman! Come to me now!"

  Myrtle smiled, walked slowly around the bed and prolonged the inevitable. Turning her back to Philip, she tensed impressive buttocks atop muscular legs. Then she went to him and pressed him into a horizontal position. Philip attempted to get up but she pushed him down again gently. "Let me show you what I've learned since Samothrace. We must not rush this, for my body is ready for a son. You must give me the best of your seed, not feeble, premature gushes of hurried passion. I can make your explosion into an heir worthy of your greatness. Be patient for once in your hurried life; I won't fail Zeus or you."

  Myrtle mounted Philip and began rubbing her prominent nipples across his juddering body. She started at his toes, worked her way across his hairy legs and knees, bypassed his enormous organ, met his nipples with hers and finally allowed him to suck hers like a baby. Gently withdrawing from his mouth, she rubbed her nipples across his prickly beard.

  The stimulation was not done completely for Philip. She moaned deeply, as his beard hairs temporarily became entangled in her nipple ring.

  Myrtle was becoming wet.

  Philip sensed a different smell from the one that had accompanied her bedroom entrance. He was nearly out of control, but the taunting was producing so much pleasure that he decided to allow the seduction.

  Myrtle kissed Philip, alternating between his pulsating penis and moist lips. Philip placed his knee between her legs, while she continued the maddening sex-kissing. Finally, he could stand it no more. He sat up violently, rolled Myrtle over and mounted her. In an instant he was inside her, pumping with all the energy that his brawny legs could produce.

  Myrtle cried out in pain while still smiling.

  Philip was pleased that his queen was a virgin; he slowed his movement. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," Myrtle replied, panting. "I was told that there would be pain, but that it would pass. Continue, bull of Macedon. Our son awaits generation."

  Philip smiled and slowly withdrew from the heaving woman. Looking beneath her buttocks, he saw a small bloodstain on the sheet, proof of her maidenhood. Perhaps the gods had anointed this woman to be the carrier of his successor. He slowed the pace, not only to show her that he too could taunt, but also to ensure that his final release would be the most that he could give.

  He took his wife's diminutive foot, then put it to his mouth. Slowly, he bit and nibbled each of her white toes. It had just the effect that he wanted. Myrtle jumped and writhed below him as her moaning became constant. Philip duplicated the near cannibal teething on her other foot then moved upward toward the smell that dominated the room. He used his teeth and tongue to massage her throbbing clitoris and saturated vaginal lips.

  “Uh, good, uh, good, uh, uh, good,” were the only words the new queen of Macedon uttered.

  Coming vertical, Philip wiped off his wet beard with the back of his hand and gently reinserted his organ into his wife. Slowly, he stroked and thrust himself into the farthest reaches of the queen.

  Myrtle's arms flailed about and she jerked her red-faced head from side to side as the penetration continued. Suddenly, she bolted upright and pushed Philip off her. "Not yet!" she gasped. "Soon, but not yet!"

  She rolled Philip over and began to fondle and caress his reddened organ. Her lips found its tip and outer rim as she playfully enveloped it with her mouth. She sensed a change in the taste of his secretions. Just as she had been told, the taste was becoming salty. She knew that her son lay just beyond the saline sensation that surrounded her tongue.

  Stopping abruptly, she lay flat on her back beside the distraught king and allowed him to enter her for the climactic culmination of their union.

  Philip, out of control, entered her again. He pumped wildly, with as much primitive energy as his muscular body could produce. Man and woman were now beyond rational thought. Primal forces, thousands of years in the making, reigned. Screaming, yelling, whimpers, and uncontrolled shouts filled the bed
chamber. The sexual cacophony was audible even in the palace hallways, where the king's royal companions stood waiting.

  Myrtle’s body entered her first orgasm with a physical strength that astounded her husband. Her arms and legs grasped him in such a powerful female vise that he was forced to catch his breath. She stiffened, signaling that she was fully opened. The king ejaculated multiple doses of his seed into his receptive bride.

  Myrtle lost conscious thought.

  For the first and last time in their lives, Philip and Myrtle experienced absolute sexual fusion. It was more than enough to produce a male heir for Macedon.

  When the festivities associated with the marriage ended, the king arranged to leave Pella and join his army. It was in its third frustrating month besieging Amphipolis. After he surveyed the siege progress there, he intended to travel to Crenides. Macedonian silver and gold mining operations would begin there soon. The day before his departure, he met with Myrtle, embraced her warmly, and told her of his plans.

  "This is the first of many separations. I want a clear understanding of your role while I'm gone."

  "It's good that we talk about these matters. I want to know what duties you want me to assume. I also want to tell you what role that I think a queen of Macedon should play."

  Philip considered her last remark. His first reaction was that his queen should play the role that he and he alone mandated. Yet, he knew Myrtle's keen intellect and was in awe of her boundless energy. Perhaps she should be given a limited role governing Macedon with him. A bright, driven, energetic person, be it man or woman, with nothing to do was a potential danger to everyone, especially a king. He decided to keep his options open, starting her off slowly.

  "You'll have run of the palace, its staff, servants, and slaves. They total more than two hundred. They need organization and discipline. Most of them just sit around and eat."