Philip took a gold coin and examined it. It was perfect. The coin's beauty gave him an idea. When he returned to Pella, he would have it made into a large ring, even though he was unaccustomed to wearing any jewelry. Let the Athenians dress like womanly dandies, he had thought all of his life. But the king wanted others to view him in a different light now that his power was being acknowledged throughout Hellas. Perhaps he should change his attitude about male jewelry. If others see me with the ring, perhaps it will increase the Philip’s acceptability. It was worth trying. Besides, he had to start dressing as elegantly as his wife, who seemed to walk slower each time he saw her because of her golden trinkets.
"You've done well. Your reward is 400 hectares of land outside of Philippi. It's yours for the rest of your life. Inform your counterpart at the mining operations in Crenides and the Thasosan governor, Gorgias, that they also will receive the same amount of land. I require only that you build roads, cut timber from the right of way, and drain the dismal swamps that dot this forlorn landscape. I'll return here when I can and I want to see evidence of these improvements."
"My thanks, King Philip. I'll tell the others of your gift today. The improvements will begin immediately."
"I leave now. Tomorrow I return to Pella and my new son. One day you will strike coins that bear his likeness. Save the reverse sides of those issues for the likeness of a former king who will be ashes by then."
"You'll rest with the gods on Mount Olympus," countered the engineer diplomatically. "Good travel, Philip, as you return to your family."
Philip was escorted to his overnight quarters where he ate, stretched out on a small cot, and started on a large kantharos of uncut wine. While he drank, he fingered a bag of newly minted Philips that the engineer had given him. Soon these coins would spread throughout Thrace, Macedon, Illyria, and Paeonia. Military glory was something he wanted, but that was inevitable. Now his coin image, depicting mighty Zeus himself, would be borne throughout the Northern Aegean by all kinds of humans doing the normal things that get them through the day. For the first time, he started to believe in himself as something more than a conqueror. Although his reveries were hubris-filled, he envisioned himself as the benefactor of merchants, astute politician, a patron of the arts, an orator and, yes, eventually a near god. He was pleased with these grandiose images as he rolled over into a dreamless sleep.
Philip and his bodyguards returned to Pella, where a huge celebration greeted them. It had been organized by the queen to commemorate the birth of Alexander, Parmenio's defeat of the Illyrians, and Philip's taking of Potidaea. Little did she care that his silly horse had won the race at Olympus, for that event was not even noted in the festivities.
Macedonians lined the cobblestone streets and cheered as their monarch rode through his capital. Parmenio, fresh from his great victory over the Illyrians, joined the king's entourage as it moved from the outskirts of Pella to the royal palace. Along the way, they saw colorful banners with Philip's likeness painted on them. Large signs hanging from two story buildings were painted in bright red letters. They proclaimed: King Philip, Conqueror of Cities, Subduer of Peoples, Father of Prince Alexander, Husband of Queen Olympias. It was the first time the Macedonian public was being informed that Queen Myrtle's name had been changed.
Macedonian victory music filled the air, and the entire city was overjoyed with the king's return. Philip beamed atop his mount. He frequently dismounted and plunged into crowds of adoring subjects. When he saw friends and supporters in the throng he reached into a bag that hung from his belt, took a newly minted gold Philip from it and gave it to the grinning friend. Finally, the group arrived at the spacious main steps of the royal palace.
Standing at the top was Queen Olympias. She was dressed in a dignified white linen chiton with a lavender outer himation draped from her bare shoulders. Her auburn hair was arranged high on her stately head as she stood like a statue of Athena. In her arms she held the infant prince, Alexander. Olympias cradled her son so that Philip couldn't see his face from below, causing him to dismount quickly and race up the steps. His face showed that he was enthralled to see his lovely wife.
"Olympias," he said cheerily. Her new name was punctuated with a wry smile. "You kept your word and gave me a son. Let me have him."
The queen carefully handed Alexander to Philip and watched Philip's expression as father beheld son. The king's face formed the biggest smile that Olympias had ever seen him make. Surprised at her emotion, Olympias felt fleeting love for her husband.
"He'll become a mighty prince," Olympias said proudly. "Later, I want to discuss his education and training. It must be fitting of a future king."
"Let him stop shitting in his linen before we do that, woman," Philip shot back. "He's going to take his first horse ride now. I'll make the best cavalryman out of him that Macedon has ever seen. Come, Alexander, smell the flesh of my steed; sense the power of the cavalry charge."
Philip ran down the steps, mounted his horse with the baby still in one arm, and kicked the animal into a wild gallop through the city streets. When Pella's citizens saw their monarch and new son approaching at a full gallop, they roared their approval. Feeding on the crowd's response, King Philip held Alexander high above his head with both hands.
The crowd cheered wildly and shouted "Philip!, Alexander!," as the impetuous ride continued. From the time the king first grabbed the infant from his mother to the end of the reckless ride through Pella's streets, not a sound emerged from the extraordinarily small infant. Philip, hopelessly inexperienced in the ways of babies, was astonished. “Look at how calm he is,” he shouted to his bodyguards. “One day he’ll lead my cavalry!”
Finally, the ride ended and the king reined his horse to a halt where it had started. He dismounted and carried the still quiet infant up the steps. As he ascended, he examined his son's features. His head was large, out of proportion to the rest of his body. As Olympias had announced in her birth message, Alexander had a gray-blue eye and a brown one. A tiny left hand curled gently beside his son’s face. His skin was clear and fair like his mother's. The baby seemed small and light as the king neared the top of the steps, still cradling Alexander in one arm. It occurred to him that the bag of gold Philips around his waist weighed more than this diminutive prince that he returned to his mother.
"Did he enjoy the ride?" asked Olympias. Not a hint of her displeasure with Philip's irresponsible action was shown as she cuddled the prince to her breast.
"He whispered that we'll conquer the Persians with just such a wild charge, if I can find a horse worthy of his abilities. Come now, I want a bath. My son's bathing with me. Join us, Olympias!"
"I have just bathed. It's late, and I must begin my devotions. Perhaps you will join me there and thank the gods for delivering us a healthy son." She meant the invitation.
"I'll come to you later, after you're done with those disgusting snakes. I'll honor my word to you and allow you to keep them, but don't ever ask me to come near them.”
With that petulant exchange, the king and queen of Macedon walked into the palace, he taking young Alexander to the baths, she to begin her nightly devotions.
Philip summoned Chaeron, a palace priest whom he thought he could trust, and asked him to accompany him into the tiled bath. He handed Alexander to an attendant and began disrobing. Nude, and before he entered the water, he directed Chaeron to begin a journey tomorrow to the holy temple of Apollo at Delphi. He was to leave the next day. He was commanded to ask the Pythia there what the meaning was of the sight that he had seen in the queen's bedroom. He told Chaeron about the bedroom snake scene and directed him not to return until Apollo had interpreted it through the mutterings of the Pythia.
Taking Alexander, Philip unwrapped his blanket with loving care, and entered the bath. He dunked Alexander quickly under the water and then held him close to his face. Love showed from the grizzled face of Philip to the tiny, perfect face of his newborn son.
Not once did A
lexander cry during the dunking. Only his arms flailed about in the humid air as he was introduced to water.
“A good sign,” Philip said to himself. He then handed the infant over to his wet nurse, and started to scrub himself.
Refreshed, he left his bath to spend the night with one of his concubines.
Olympias went to her bedchamber, opened the lids of her snake boxes, and took out more serpents than her husband had seen months before. She then began her devotions. Her ceremony continued far into the night. If Philip wouldn’t join her, she would find release with her beloved snakes.
Meanwhile in central Greece, Thebes, Sparta, and tiny Phocis got involved in a squabble over Phocis's land surrounding the holy Temple of Apollo at Delphi. These events had been monitored closely by Philip's intelligence chief, Attalus. The dispute appeared settled, but then Phocis raised a leader who began to threaten Thessaly, Macedon's southern neighbor. The Thessalians, alarmed that they were being cut off from their Theban allies and fearful Phocis might attempt further northern expansion, sent envoys north to Pella. They appealed to Philip to come to their defense.
Philip had just completed the successful taking of the last Athenian stronghold on Macedonia's Thermaic Gulf coast, Methone. During the long siege and frantic battle for the city, the king had taken an enemy arrow in his right eye. When the arrow was extracted from his profusely bleeding eye, the battlefield physicians informed him that it would never see again.
The king commanded that Methone's citizens were to leave their city with only the garments that they were wearing. Then the city's buildings, houses and walls were leveled and all surrounding fertile farmland was given to Macedonian settlers. As was his custom, Philip assigned these cleanup operations in and around Methone to his commanders and left for Pella for a long convalescence.
Palace physicians examined the king's hideously swollen eye daily to guard against infection. Their knowledge of his eye wound was based on the treatment of scores of soldiers who had received the same injury in battle. After each examination, they assured their monarch that the healing was progressing as well as could be expected and that he must continue to rest and keep the eye covered.
Resting was something that Philip never did. He walked the halls and courtyards of his palace, and everyone tried to avoid him. His usual jocular manner, a trait he displayed even with slaves, was missing. His biting commands were heard throughout the palace during the early days of his healing. Now into the second month of his convalescence, Philip lay naked in a steaming tub of scented water while his court boys bathed him. For days he had avoided seeing Olympias or allowing any communication. All he could think about was the oracular response that the priest that he had sent to Delphi had conveyed to him. Chaeron had traveled to the siege site at Methone to inform the king of the sibyl's message. It was twofold and, for once, unambiguous. The first part explained that King Philip had observed his wife in a most sacred ceremony with her snakes. The Pythia explained that the largest of these snakes was an incarnation of Zeus-Ammon, an Egyptian version of the Greek Zeus. All Greeks held the god in special reverence, and Philip was terrified with the oracle's interpretation. He was instructed to give special homage to this Hellenized Egyptian deity for the rest of his life as partial atonement.
Secondly, and most fitfully for the king, Chaeron told Philip that because he had seen what was not to be seen by any man, he would lose an eye. The time or manner of this loss was not specified, but the prophecy was certain. When the battle for Methone began, Philip had nearly forgotten the prophecy. With typical Macedonian fatalism, he knew that no one could reverse a prediction from Apollo, so it was useless to worry. Methone fell, but Philip lost an eye.
These life-altering ruminations filled his brain-steamed thoughts when a palace slave announced the arrival of Parmenio. His general waited outside the bath. The king remained in his tub and shouted to his friend. "Get in here, you war horse!"
Parmenio strode into the bath and stood before the naked, reclining king. "Greetings, Philip," the general said. "Is your eye healing?"
"It is, old friend. I have to turn my head to see things that I used to see by just looking straight ahead. But I'll adjust. The only problem now is this hellish swelling. My physicians bring boxes of ice daily from Mount Bermion and force me to put it over the ruined socket. The swelling's going down, but further treatment is necessary. My physician, Kritoboulos, looks at it tomorrow. He thinks he can repair it so it looks better than it does now. He says that he had done wonders with some of my soldiers who experienced the same wound. I don’t believe him."
Parmenio looked at his friend. Philip’s right eye, unbandaged for the bath, stared back at him angrily. It had the vacant look that only an eye that does not see can cast. Clotted blood surrounded it amid hideous swelling. Parmenio's first impression was that the injury had ruined the handsome looks of a young man known for his virile features. He knew that Philip would suffer many more battlefield injuries as his conquests continued. Parmenio's own middle-agedbody was etched with scars. His left arm was only partially functional and he walked with a limp. All Macedonian soldiers considered these injuries in middle age to be a sign of valor. But a king, especially a king in his middle twenties, wasn't supposed to show the results of a lifetime of fighting.
But Philip was Philip. Parmenio could only protect him more effectively in the future. He wasn't aware that his king's eye loss was retribution from Zeus-Ammon or why it had been suffered.
"What brings you to my bath, Parmenio? Do you want sexual pleasures from a man who can only see half of your fabled organ?"
Both men laughed. The king jumped up from his tub, was dried by his boys and robed. Then the two friends walked to nearby couches and reclined.
The king's commanding general spoke first. "Before your injury, you were receiving dispatches from our agents in Thebes and Thessaly. You'll remember that insignificant Phocis was censured by the Amphictionic League.”
"I remember. An eye injury doesn't cause memory loss."
Parmenio smiled and continued. "More has happened during your convalescence. The Greeks' nasty little war over the Delphi temple has created both problems and opportunities for us. Phocis' new general has been victorious in several important battles and has just aligned himself with the tyrants of Pherai. This upstart has effectively divided Thessaly. Our friends in Larissa sent an urgent message asking us to intervene. It arrived today."
"This is good news. So is its timing. I'm forced to consolidate our position in Thrace and calm the members of the Chalcidian League. The war with Athens is stalemated, but she can't make any moves because of her rebellious allies. Here's a chance to get into central Greece. Perhaps the gods aren’t against me. I want to make the most of what they have served us."
"It's the obvious move.” Parmenio wondered about Philip’s sudden sensitivity to the god’s whims. "When you've recovered, the army's ready to march. Have the physicians told you when you can travel?"
"I'll tell them when I'm healed. Tell the commanders that we'll leave in two days. I'll lead them myself. I'll have to wear a patch until my eye socket is healed. We'll have ice brought from the mountains as we move south. I can't stand my palace any longer. I've got to escape the witch who brought this disfigurement on me. After she raises my son, I probably look for a new queen."
Parmenio finished discussing the army's moves and left the bath and palace. He was surprised at Philip's invective against the queen. Perhaps it was just Philip feeling sorry for himself over the loss of his eye. He knew of occasional disagreements between the two, but for the first time, he sensed a serious split. He decided to discuss the matter with Attalus. Attalus, more than he, disliked the queen. He resented her Epirote ancestry and made no secret that he wanted a true Macedonian as royal consort. Parmenio, a Pelagonian, knew that Macedonia was a nation of diverse racial and ethnic groups. He was wary of Attalus and his tribal intolerance. It was an intolerance that could be used against him one day. St
ill, the issue needed examination and he would discuss it with others.
Philip dressed and returned to his quarters. After his physician put a new patch over his eye, the king sent for his royal treasurer. The two men discussed the flow of gold from Philippi. The king was satisfied that his coffers were sufficient to support his move into central Greece. He then summoned his diplomatic corps. He told them that their actions in the months ahead should focus on stalling any Athenian efforts to rally their allies in Thrace. Athens must not be allowed to thwart Macedon's eastward expansion. They were empowered to offer bribes to any leader who needed coaxing to remain either neutral or support King Philip.
The rest of the day he spent reading reports from his agents in Thebes and Thessaly. He felt his energy level rising as he anticipated another victory over inconsequential Phocis. That victory would make Thebes and Thessaly beholden to him. It would also give him a way to strike back at Athens and Sparta, Phocis's marginal allies. The king was ready to spread Macedon's power again to opponents who little understood his grand design.
The next day he went to his army's encampment and checked departure preparations. It was good to be back among his soldiers. He was buoyed by his men's wishes of good health and future success. That afternoon, he went to Queen Olympias's suite to see his son and tell his wife that he would be campaigning in the south. He refused to enter her bedchambers and directed her attendants to have her meet him in her outer reception room.
Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon Page 20