"What do you expect of us?" Leonnatus asked.
"You'll be told that just before the wedding day. Philip often changes his plans at the last moment. I don't want any more people involved in the details of the plot than are necessary. Not until the last moment will the three of you be told your roles."
Each youth accepted what Antipater said and left the clandestine meeting. Perthian and Antipater remained in huddled conversation the rest of the night. Just before daybreak, each left separately to carry out individual responsibilities.
One month before the wedding, Pausanius demanded to meet with Prince Alexander. Although Alexander didn't want the meeting and Antipater tried to dissuade him, the king's bodyguard was insistent. Finally, Alexander agreed to go hunting with Pausanius outside the city.
Alexander came right to the point when their slave beaters left to drive game toward them. "We'll not be here long, Pausanius. What do you want?" he asked contemptuously.
"I want your assurance that you'll take no action against me if I do what Antipater wants. Without that pledge, I'll leave Pella tomorrow and never return."
"I'm ignorant of what Antipater plans. It will remain that way. I can say that I'll never take any aggressive action against you. Is that sufficient to calm you?"
"It doesn't calm me, but it's what I wanted to hear. I'll go on with our plans. Perhaps someday you'll allow me to return to your kingdom and my family, after this is over."
"I don't know what you are talking about! This conversation is over. Stay here and sharpen your killing skills with the slaves. I return for maneuvers with the cavalry. Speak to no one of our meeting! That would incur my wrath. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Alexander. Don't be so harsh with me. I'm giving you a kingdom."
Alexander glared at the assassin and jerked Bucephalas's reins sharply. He mounted his horse and galloped off, urging his mount to its maximum speed.
Pausanius watched the crown prince ride off, wondering what he had said to make him so angry. It didn't matter; he was committed to removing the arrogant prince's father. His recognition would come when he reached a far-off land across the blue Aegean.
Prince Alexander didn't sleep well for the next month. But he knew that the fates were working their inexorable ways. What peace he found was the result of incessant prayers offered up to his spiritual father.
Olympias, in Passaron, received two favorable messages within days of each other. The first was official and came from her younger brother, Alexander of Epirus. It informed her that her daughter Kleopatra was going to be given to him in marriage in a month. The ceremony would be held in Aigai and, amazingly, she was invited. The second was unofficial and came from a new agent of Antipater. The agent told her that Antipater's plans were in place and that nothing could prevent the attainment of the prize they sought. The agent handed Olympias a small papyrus scroll, sealed with beeswax along its leading edge. The ex-queen opened the scroll and read its simple message: Kill this man.
She smiled at the messenger, and then led him to her bedchamber. "Get me writing material from that small, red basket, so I can send a message back with you," she said.
The agent reached into the basket and, too late, saw a small snake coiled along its edges. It struck his withdrawing hand and injected a fatal dose of its venom into his bloodstream. The man's eyes bulged out and he struggled to breathe. Taking two steps toward Olympias, he stretched out his arms threateningly toward her neck. Before he could reach her, he stumbled, quivered for a few seconds and fell dead.
Olympias waited until everyone in the palace was asleep that night then sent for the chief priest of Passaron. The priest saw what she wanted done. Before morning, the corpse of Antipater's agent was removed from Olympias's bedroom. He was buried under a pile of rocks in the craggy mountains east of the city. The ex-queen understood even more now why it was so important to learn how to read. She intended to thank Alexander for his instruction after this unpleasant affair was over.
CHAPTER 26
Philip allowed a hundred trumpets to continue their harmonic blasts as nearly a thousand guests and subjects roared with anticipation. These events had been heralded by a spectacular sunrise, leaping across the vast lower plain of Macedonia. He then directed his personal bodyguards to wait outside the theater entrance. Waiting with the guards was Perdiccas, Leonnatus, and young Attalus. All was ready.
"Begin the processional," King Philip ordered.
Slaves lifted the Olympian gods on their shoulders and began to move forward, followed by the king's son and son-in-law. Slowly, the gods of Greece began their entry, led by mighty Zeus. Philip, now also elevated in his litter atop slaves' shoulders, watched as the remaining Olympians followed the king of gods. He saw the two gods he most identified with—Dionysus, god of wine, and Ares, god of war. Apollo, Poseidon, and Demeter came next. He admired the craftsmanship that had produced stately Hera and Artemis with eighteen breasts. Then Athena entered, prompting a cheer from the Athenian delegation. Swift Hermes entered, followed by dark and morose Hades, the penultimate statue. Finally, beautiful and alluring Aphrodite was borne into the theater's eastern entrance.
Listen to the roar. I've waited for this all my life. Motioning his slaves forward, the king's litter began to move. Walking behind it was the captain of Philip's bodyguard, Pausanius. Seeing the resplendent monarch and new hegemon of Greece, the crowd began chanting his name. Cries of "Phil-ip, Phil-ip, Phil-ip" reverberated in the cool early morning air. The king smiled and laughed at his admirers, waving and pointing to faces he recognized. "Makarios," he shouted, as he saw an older man who fought with him during his first generalship in Elimea. "Protias," he yelled, as he saw a middle-age phalangite sitting with his wife and children, high in the wooden bleachers section of the theater. He was the officer who had saved the king's life inside the wall of Amphipolis.
The king smiled at Kleopatra-Eurydice. He had ordered that she and her two children were to be seated in the royal section of the theater, centered before the stage. Royal purple pillows and cushions surrounded the beautiful, young queen. Philip grinned. He saw his queen flash a tiny wave and he returned it. Seated higher in the theater, several rows above his new wife, he spotted his rejected one.
Olympias sat in the theater section with wooden, bleacher-type seats, without the comfort of cushions. She had a serene smile on her face that irritated Philip briefly. Then he put the wretched woman out of his mind.
"Slow the litter," he commanded, prolonging the acclamation. He continued to shout at his friends as the litter stopped several times on its way to the stage. At last, the King of Macedon, Hegemon, and Commander in Chief of Hellas—and soon to be deified thirteenth god—arrived at a large wooden platform. The twelve Olympians formed an oval around the rectangular stage. It had been built low enough so that the king's litter could be placed beside it, allowing the lame king to exit without embarrassment. Philip slid out and lurched to the center of a brightly painted, sixteen-pointed, Macedonian starburst at center stage. It was color coordinated with the beautiful starburst symbol sewn on the back of his cloak.
The clamor increased as he raised his arms and started a slow turn to face the audience. The two Alexanders stood on a paved area of fieldstone, at opposite corners of the platform. Pausanius waited on the stage behind the king, rotating with Philip's back as he turned.
Alexander watched his father. He had never seen him so happy. Clearly, Philip didn't want the ovation to stop. Soon his father's life would end. If he were going to take action, the time was now. He could be on Pausanius in five strides. Taking the assassin's life would endear him forever to Philip. But he would still be Prince Alexander. The king's new son would eventually replace him at court. His mother would still be in lifetime exile in Epirus. He felt his leg muscles tense, ready for the charge to the stage. But his feet, his essence, were anchored deep into the Macedonian stones beneath his boots. His petrified soul could not and did not move.
Then
, exactly as planned, the four porters tipped Zeus's platform. They were plot members posing as slaves. This caused it to crash into Hades with a grinding crunch of marble on marble. Both statues careened wildly to the ground, breaking off Hades' top half. Zeus suffered little direct damage but now lay face down beside the wooden stage. All eyes followed the intentional accident.
No one but the king's son saw Pausanius run toward Philip. As he neared the man he was sworn to protect with his life, he withdrew a Celtic sword from beneath his cloak. Philip, distracted by Zeus's bisection of Hades, never saw Pausanius coming. His guard captain grabbed the king by a shoulder, turned him around, and thrust his man's-arm sized sword into his chest. The sword's point went through Philip's chest; its tip stuck out of his back between his shoulder blades. When the sword's hilt pressed against his victim's chest, Pausanius grasped its handle with both hands and gave it a quarter turn. The first vicious thrust would have killed the king easily. The second one split his heart.
Philip's face experienced a series of rapid changes while he was being murdered. First, came shocked surprise. He looked at Pausanius and understood the deadly logic of why the disgruntled man had been chosen. Then came the sword's heart-splitting rotation. Philip of Macedon had only two more breaths left. He used the first to curse Pausanius. "You queer little bas... ." The second breath, filled with a third of his blood supply, produced a garbled utterance. It gurgled deep inside his throat, mixed with the unintelligible sounds of a name that only he could hear: "Alexander!"
As the king fell toward the center of the starburst, his glazed eye searched in vain for the woman that he knew had killed him. That eye died with the rest of his body before he found her, still sitting serenely on her hard, wooden bench seat. Her face was emotionless, as if she were enjoying a flock of birds over muddy Lake Loudias.
Pausanius stood over Philip like a youth proud of his first hunting kill. The king's blood already had started to besmirch the starburst. The assassin's boots were stained red. He jumped off the stage and raced out the western entrance. He looked back as he ran—no one pursued him.
Everyone, including the two Alexanders, stood transfixed. The assassin heard vague screaming sounds from hundreds around him as he began his escape. He knew once he got outside the theater, a fast horse awaited him beneath a grove of trees. His mind, working at inhuman speed, had him on the horse racing to Pella and a waiting trireme on Lake Loudias. From there, he would be taken to Athens and safe passage to a life of luxury in Persia. He had done it! The world would forever remember his name.
Waiting at the western entrance was Perdiccas and Leonnatus. Young Attalus remained with the king's bodyguards. His role was to lead them back into the theater to protect their new monarch. Both groups passed each other, three men leaving, the others entering. Attalus led the guards to the stage platform, where the two Alexanders were bending over Philip's body. Screams and mayhem continued in the crowd as panic prevailed.
Outside, Perdiccas and Leonnatus ran after Pausanius as the king's killer neared his waiting horse. Just before reaching the trees, Pausanius's boot toe became entangled in a tree root and he fell headlong to the ground. Instantly, the pursuing Perdiccas and Leonnatus were on him. With Celtic swords similar to the one just used to kill the King of Macedon, they hacked and stabbed him to death. His assassin's blood quickly flowed into the dirt beneath the tree. The horse that was to be his means of escape pulled away from its loosely tied reins and bolted from the morning's second murder.
It was now evident to everyone inside and outside the theater that Philip had been killed. Soldiers were everywhere. No one was allowed to leave the theater, and all entrances were blocked. The crowd's screaming gradually ceased and gave way to crying and sorrowful lamentations. Everyone knew that more than two god statues and Philip had fallen today.
The king's son finally emerged from the theater, surrounded by scores of his royal companion cavalrymen. He walked to the grove where Pausanius's body lay. It seemed peaceful. If it were it not covered in blood and dirt, it could have been misjudged as merely being asleep.
Alexander turned to Perdiccas. With a pained grimace, he said, "I don't suppose he could have been left alive. It makes sense. He words were nearly inaudible
Perdiccas, eyes lowered, said nothing.
Leonnatus finally broke the silence. "Let us handle what happened here, Alexander. The army in Pella has already been called. Tomorrow you'll be acclaimed king; none of this will stain you."
"It stained all that I am, Leonnatus. It was necessary, but a terrible thing happened here. A piece of me died today along with Philip."
"Go to the palace with your mother, Alexander," Perdiccas said at last. "You'll be safe there while this mess is cleaned up. Every contingency has been considered. Antipater will meet with the diplomats and envoys before midday. He'll assure them that the monarchy will continue, with you as head. Tomorrow you'll be acclaimed king by the army on parade, and you will address the people. Little will change. That's Antipater's mission."
“Yes, I see it. Pausanius will bear responsibility for the plot. I wonder if Aristotle will ever speak to us again.” Alexander’s face wore a cruel countenance.
"It's all been worked out, Perdiccas answered. "Stay out of this from now on. Inconsistencies and irregularities in the cover-story will be resolved. Uncontestable documents and evidence are already prepared, implicating Pausanius. History will judge him as the sole assassin. You and Olympias will be held blameless."
"Where's mother?"
"Our men surrounded her," Leonnatus said. "She awaits you in the throne room. Go, King Alexander. The rest of this mess is not fit for a monarch."
It was the first time Alexander was addressed as king. The appellation filled him simultaneously with guilt-ridden emotion and arrogant pride. Put any guilt out of your mind. You have already thought this through. Philip would have murdered Olympias and me before long. Everyone knows that. My earthly father is gone, but Zeus- Ammon remains. That father will help me cope with any demons that might haunt me.
"Bring Philip's body to the throne room," Alexander commanded. "I want time with him before the cremation."
"Are you sure?" Perdiccas asked.
"Do it, don't question me!"
Perdiccas expected more gratitude from his friend but dismissed Alexander's reaction as normal, given the morning's events. "It will be done.”
Alexander and fifty of his cavalrymen left the theater. In silence, they walked up the hill to the palace. Ominous, dark clouds had covered the brilliant eastern sun and a chilling wind blew into Alexander’s face. Inside, he was even colder. His men spread quickly through the palace, checking each room for any enraged Philip supporters. Five of them escorted their new king to the royal suite on the palace's east side. Alexander went first to the spacious bath and vomited. Then he bathed and dressed in the commander-in-chief uniform that only Philip had worn.
He quickly left the royal suite—too much of Philip's spirit was still there. Walking toward the throne room, where he knew his mother waited, guilt consumed him. He hadn't done the shameful act, but he had known it was going to happen. Which crime was worse? He shared much, but not all of the responsibility for Philip's death. That indelible fact would never leave him. Now another wretched task: the instigator of the plot awaited him on the other side of the door he approached.
The tholos throne room was square on its exterior but circular on the inside. It had a single, heavy bronze door, richly decorated with scenes of past Macedonian kings' triumphs. Compared with the rest of the palace, the tholos was a small space. Only ten people could ever enter it at one time. Alexander knew that the single person who awaited him there would be pleased with the morning's events.
"You finally won, mother," Alexander said as the door closed and he walked toward Olympias.
"We won," Olympias replied coldly. She was standing regally beside the ancient throne of Macedon. Her arm rested on the arm of the sturdy wooden structur
e, a throne hundreds of years old. "Sit here while we talk. It's yours now."
"It too early for that," her son snapped. "Philip's body isn't cold yet and you have me sitting on his throne. I'll become king tomorrow when the army and the people acclaim me monarch, not through a private coronation of my mother!"
Olympias' mood changed to match her son's. "You're filled with guilt, Alexander, and you want to put it on me. I was the first cause of Philip's death, but you were the second. I acted boldly and take responsibility for what I did. You knew everything and did nothing. Climb off your inappropriate moral pedestal and walk out of this dung with your mother."
Her cutting words quieted Alexander temporarily. She was right. The killing could not have been done without my silent acquiescence. He turned his back to her as he followed the circular stone wall with his left hand, walking around its circumference. He stopped and glared pitifully at his mother. She had not moved.
Olympias gave her son the time he needed and then approached him from behind. "There's no time for this," she said as she put her slender white arm around his thick neck. "I have already taken actions that needed immediate attention, but you must do the rest."
Alexander turned and glared at her. Again he had underestimated her cruel capabilities? "What have you done?"
"When Philip was murdered, my priests took Kleopatra-Eurydice and her two children from the theater. The main threat to your kingship will be removed before nightfall."
"I hope I never meet an enemy such as you, mother. Where have you taken them?"
"They're on the road to Paiko by now.” There was a wild, vicious look in her eyes.
Alexander bolted to the throne room door. "Open," he shouted as he approached it. A guard swung open the door and stood before his new king.
"Get Leonnatus," he commanded. "Tell him he's to take ten cavalrymen and ride to Paiko immediately. He's to bring back Kleopatra-Eurydice and her children. If they've already been murdered, tell him to kill the priest who did it and bring back the bodies. I want to see everyone connected with this act, dead or alive."
Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon Page 38