The Three Paradises

by Robert Fabbri

  Polyperchon did not need to vocalise the answer.

  ‘So if we change the regime,’ Alexandros continued, ‘that loyalty will come to us. The Athenian oligarchy isn’t going to do anything about Nicanor of Sindus in Piraeus; Phocion himself refused to lead their embassy to Antipatros and the rest of the oligarchy, who might have been against it, heard what happened to Demades and his son. So we must get rid of them and install a regime that will be so against the garrison they might even do something about it themselves.’

  Polyperchon gestured with open hands for his son to supply the answer, for he could not.

  ‘You proclaim the freedom of the Greeks; all exiles are free to return home. The democrats will come back and the oligarchies will be torn down in a welter of blood; suddenly we shall have all the allies we need down south – especially if we also have an army in close attendance to discourage too much thought of independence.’

  ‘Declare the freedom of the Greeks?’

  ‘Yes; just imagine how popular that would be. With democrats in power in Athens and the Royal Army behind me, I would then be able to threaten Nicanor from a far superior position than we are in now and negotiate his withdrawal from Munychia before Kassandros arrives with his army. He’ll have to land it somewhere else but wherever that is he’ll be seen as the hostile force and we will be the saviours. That’s how we beat him.’ Again Alexandros thumped his fist down on the desk making the piles of correspondence jump.

  Polyperchon hastily tidied them back to neatness. ‘Declare the freedom of the Greeks?’

  ‘Yes, Father. But just saying it again and again is no good; you have to write the document and then distribute it throughout Greece.’

  And that was something that Polyperchon could relate to: it was almost an order and it would involve much work to see it to fruition. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Good. And we’ll worry about the consequences of creating so many democracies once Kassandros is beaten. I’ll speak to our officers and make sure that the army is ready to march south in two days, with the fleet supporting it. I want to be in Attica when the news spreads so as to receive the thankful delegations and make lots of new friends. When things have settled, you can come south and be lauded as the saviour of Greece where, once again, every citizen in every city has a vote, no matter what their financial status – and may the gods help them.’

  Polyperchon gazed, with a good deal of satisfaction, on the fleet, a hundred strong, lying at anchor along the coast at the mouth of the inlet leading up to Pella, three leagues away inland. Too large to be accommodated in Pella’s port, it had assembled at sea whilst the army had been mustered on the plain around the city. And now all was set for another Macedonian probe into Greece; already the army had moved off, visible, to the south along the coastal road, leading first to the port of Pydna and then on into Thessaly. With multiple blasts of horns that echoed off cliffs across the bay, the fleet weighed anchor and, taking advantage of a stiff breeze in the north-east, set sail after only a few pulls of the oars from the rowers.

  Polyperchon found himself waving at the majestic sight as the wind drove it southward; remembering himself, he brought down his hand, clamped it firmly to his reins and looked around his escort to see if anyone was sniggering at such a childish gesture; no one met his eye.

  It was as the fleet dwindled into the distance and Polyperchon turned his mount to head back to Pella that the warning shout came and he looked to the east. Sails, scores of them, could just be seen on the horizon; at least sixty vessels, their hulls just becoming visible.

  ‘What do you think?’ Polyperchon asked the officer commanding his escort, shading his eyes with his hand.

  ‘I think they’re headed this way; if they were going south they would cut across the bay.’

  ‘Can you make out what manner of ships they are?’

  The officer squinted for a few moments. ‘I can’t be sure, sir, but I don’t think they are merchantmen.’

  ‘Warships?’

  ‘I think we should prepare for that, yes, sir.’

  Antigonos. Polyperchon turned his eyes to the south where his fleet was now further away from the newcomers. Even if I could get a message to them they would have to row back against the wind; how did he know the exact moment to attack? With most of my ships away there is no chance of preventing him reaching Pella. He turned back to the officer. ‘We ride to Pella; send a messenger galloping ahead to have the harbour master prepare the harbour defences. We cannot allow that fleet to land.’

  ‘With respect, sir, if that were an invasion fleet it wouldn’t try to disembark its army in a hostile port, it would choose a convenient cove nearby or something similar. And if it were a hostile fleet come to destroy our fleet then surely it would be sailing after it and not heading to Pella’s port?’

  Polyperchon scratched his head. The man’s logic made perfect sense and not to follow it would be seen as the action of a panicking old woman, and yet could he afford not to take action on the off-chance that this was a threat coming towards them? ‘You’re right, of course. I feel it’s best to be prepared for any eventuality. With the army and fleet gone and just a small garrison in the port and city, Pella’s open. We must hurry.’ He kicked his horse forward, closing his eyes and groaning inwardly as he realised that the officer had questioned his judgement and, rather than rebuking him, he had justified himself to him. That was not leadership.

  The chain was across the harbour entrance when Polyperchon and his escort clattered through its gates; the walls were manned by archers with red-hot braziers interspersed between them to ignite their fire arrows. Artillery pieces were crewed, loaded and trained on the harbour mouth and units of marines stood by at the gates to repel any attempt to land troops outside the walls, should the fleet prove to be hostile. And, should it break through the chain, the last three triremes – kept back as messenger ships – stood, fully manned, ready to be a last line of defence.

  ‘They’re definitely coming here, they’re just passing that hill a league away,’ the harbour master said, pointing into the distance. ‘I stationed a man up there; you can see him signalling.’

  Polyperchon shaded his eyes; flashes came from a hilltop to the south. ‘There’s nothing to do but wait then.’

  As the lead ship came into sight, Polyperchon toyed with the idea of giving a rousing speech to the defenders and was running over the words he should say in his mind when a voice in the lookout tower shouted, ‘Poseidon! Poseidon!’

  Again, Polyperchon strained his eyes to see into the distance. Sure enough there, in the prow of the leading ship, stood Poseidon, naked but for some seaweed, and brandishing his trident. Kleitos the White had come to Pella.

  ‘Antigonos moved against Lydia with such speed,’ Kleitos reported as he stepped onto the quay, ‘that he caught what few troops I had as my satrapy garrison completely unawares; most of them surrendered and then joined his ranks. He was at the walls of Sardis before I even knew he had invaded; he sent me a message giving me the choice of serving under him or serving underground. Fancying neither option very much, I could see that the only thing to do was to save the fleet at Ephesus.’ He paused to remove a piece of seaweed that clung, moist, to his cheek, and then pointed to his command with his trident. ‘Which, as you can see, I did. The last I heard, he was heading north to Hellespontine Phrygia to give Arrhidaeus the same ultimatum.’

  ‘He’s replacing all of Antipatros’ nominees with his own,’ Polyperchon said, ‘one by one.’

  ‘Yes, so I despatched a fast ship to give Arrhidaeus warning, but I doubt he will be able to resist Antigonos: his army is now topping seventy thousand.’

  Polyperchon clapped Kleitos on a seaweed-festooned shoulder. ‘You did well. What news of Asander in Caria?’

  ‘I expect he’ll go over to Antigonos. Meanwhile, Kassandros has crossed into Asia, with two of his brothers and about five hundred of his clansmen, and is on his way to join Antigonos.’

  Polypercho
n groaned. ‘I was hoping his leg would keep him in Thrace for longer. What about Nicanor in Kappadokia? No doubt he’s going to pledge himself to Antigonos as well, being Kassandros’ brother?’

  ‘Haven’t you seen him?’

  ‘Seen him where?’

  ‘Seen him here. He faced a rebellion in his satrapy; he wasn’t at all popular, and has been forced out. The locals prefer Eumenes, even though he’s still under siege in Nora, and Nicanor didn’t have enough forces loyal to him to resist. Anyway, Nicanor passed through Sardis two days before I left; I let him have a ship bound for Macedon. He should have arrived by now.’

  ‘I think I’d better talk to his stepmother.’

  ‘No, I will not,’ Hyperia said, her jaw firm in defiance, as she stood before the council table in the palace throne room. King Philip, cradling his elephant, presided with a confused look and a running nose.

  Polyperchon brandished his ring. ‘I command you in the name of Macedon to tell me where he is.’

  Hyperia waved the ring away. ‘You can command in the name of your own arse as far as I’m concerned; if I were to give you my stepson you would try and use him as a hostage against Kassandros.’

  Polyperchon neither affirmed nor denied the allegation.

  ‘He has nothing to do with Kassandros’ rebellion,’ Hyperia continued, ‘and if I can have a written undertaking from you that he will not be apprehended or harmed in any way then I will get him to swear that he will not move against you.’

  ‘You are in no position to bargain, bitch,’ Adea snapped. ‘Your stepson is a traitor.’

  Hyperia turned stony eyes onto the teenage queen. ‘My stepson is not a traitor; to be such a thing you have to take up arms against the rightful leadership of the state. That he has not done.’

  ‘Nicanor is the brother of Kassandros—’

  ‘But has not yet joined him,’ Polyperchon pointed out.

  ‘Don’t interrupt me, old man.’ She glared at Polyperchon and then turned her fire back to Hyperia. ‘I am the Queen of Macedon and I speak for the rightful king. You will hand over your stepson or I will see you executed.’

  Hyperia stared at her in disbelief. ‘You have no right even to issue that threat, and especially not to me.’

  ‘I can do what I like in the name of King Philip. You will hand over your stepson or face the consequences.’

  Hyperia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Polyperchon, please tell the young lady that she hasn’t the power.’

  Polyperchon hesitated. If I back Hyperia against Adea then I am, in effect, supporting Kassandros’ rebellion against myself; a ludicrous situation. And yet to support Adea is to endorse her with far more power than she really has. In fact, it would make her more powerful than me; again, a ludicrous situation. ‘I will give you that a written undertaking that he will not be apprehended or harmed in any way.’

  ‘What!’ Adea screeched, making her husband jump in his throne.

  Hyperia ignored her. ‘And I will get him to swear that he will not move against you.’

  Polyperchon nodded. ‘Thank you, Hyperia. You may go.’

  Adea jumped to her feet. ‘No, she may not! She is harbouring a traitor.’

  ‘No, Adea, she is protecting her stepson and I am happy that he will behave himself if this high-born lady of Macedon vouches for him.’

  Adea looked down at him as if he were the most repellent of insects. ‘You are a weak old man who has no business ruling Macedon. You, Polyperchon, are a problem.’ She turned and marched to the door. Philip looked at her, then at Polyperchon and then scurried after his wife.

  ‘You need to control that little bitch,’ Hyperia said in a matter-of-fact tone before following her out. ‘She is a problem.’

  Polyperchon sat back in his chair and sighed. It was true, ever since Adea had won her seat on the council, backed by the army, she had been growing more power-mad by the day. But how to curb her ambition? And then Antipatros’ last words came back to him: ‘Do not ever let Macedon be ruled by a woman.’ And that was exactly what he was letting happen. How to neutralise her? And then he saw what he must do. If I can’t control her then I must get the help of a woman who can.

  OLYMPIAS.

  THE MOTHER.

  ‘AND SO WITH this ox, boar and ram, given in thanks for the boy-child’s life, Father Zeus, I acknowledge him as my own.’ Aeacides, the King of Epirus, threw the three hearts of the sacrifices, lying opened on the temple floor, onto the altar fire. ‘And I name him Pyrrhus and before the gods and my people declare him to be my heir and heir to the kingdom of Epirus.’

  I can only hope that he has a little more backbone and spirit of adventure than you, my chubby cousin. Olympias looked with distaste at her kinsman as he presented his ten-day-old son to the assembled clan leaders of his mountainous kingdom. She stood, with their wives, apart in the women’s area. ‘The brat is healthy, I take it?’ she asked Thessalonike, next to her.

  ‘It would have been given to a slave to be left on a hilltop if it weren’t.’

  Olympias contemplated the screaming bundle raised in Aeacides’ hands, high over his head. ‘Well, I’ll give the little brute a few years to see if anything can be made of him and then decide.’

  ‘Decide what?’

  ‘Decide whether he has any right to live, of course; Epirus can’t afford to have another king like his father or Macedon will swallow it up – or, rather, it would do if it had a ruler in possession of a decent set of balls with some weight to them rather than Polyperchon’s old man’s eggs.’ She spat at the thought of the new regent of Macedon; she was still bemused by the recent news of Polyperchon’s elevation and Kassandros’ flight from Pella. It had, however, been no surprise when reports of Kassandros joining Antigonos in Asia, along with two of his brothers, had come that morning as she had prepared herself for the dekate, the naming ceremony now drawing to a conclusion. But what had surprised her was a letter from Antigonos himself offering an alliance against Polyperchon; an alliance that went right against her nature. As much as she despised Antipatros and his entire family as well as anyone who had ever expressed a positive opinion of any of them, she thoroughly approved of his passing over of Kassandros. The vile little rat will have been publically humiliated. The rage within him will be all-consuming; it will eat away at him on the inside. She smiled at the sweet thought of Kassandros’ consumption by wrath and hoped that it would be slow and bitter. And yet, if she accepted Antigonos’ offer she would effectively be Kassandros’ ally.

  As Aeacides processed down the temple, showing his son to the high-born families who would one day be his subjects, Olympias considered the options that had occurred to her thus far. Her route to power was through her grandson, King Alexander, currently residing in Pella and now under the guardianship of a man who gave mediocracy a bad name, so it was a question of how she could unite herself and the child and then dispose of the drooling idiot who had, through some weird caprice of the gods, been made joint king.

  The men followed their king out of the temple with the women behind them; the citizens of Pella, crammed into the agora, cheered the new addition to the royal family with an eagerness spurred by the thought of the largesse that would be distributed by the proud father. As she reached the top of the steps, Olympias grabbed Thessalonike’s arm and pulled her aside. ‘Come, we’ve better things to do than stand in the presence of that filthy mob. We’ve got decisions to make.’

  *

  ‘I don’t believe we know enough of the facts to be able to make a decision,’ Thessalonike said, putting Antigonos’ letter back down on the table, as she and Olympias sat in the shade of an ancient olive tree in the palace gardens. The celebrations continued in the city below, ignored by both women. ‘You need to know whether anyone will back Kassandros in Greece before you persuade Aeacides to invade Macedon.’

  ‘What difference would it make? The very threat of his arrival in Greece will force Polyperchon’s hand; he’ll have to go south or risk losing con
trol of the whole of Greece and probably Thessaly as well; now that Antigonos has laid claim to the treasury in Cyinda he can’t afford to lose the revenue from the Greek states. He has to protect the south; indeed, one of my spies has reported that the order to muster the army has gone out; the army might even have already headed south. Macedon will be left wide open. Now’s my chance to take back what is mine and to make up for being ignored by The Three Paradises settlement; never even a mention! I will have their attention if I take Macedon!’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’ Thessalonike reached over and rested a soothing hand on Olympias’ thigh. ‘But try not to think of The Three Paradises; you know it clouds your thoughts.’

  Olympias took a deep breath and calmed herself; being totally ignored by the most influential conference of the age had been a bitter blow to her vanity. ‘But, nonetheless, this is my opportunity.’

  ‘Perhaps, but if you seize an undefended Macedon with the Epirot army and Polyperchon repels Kassandros, you will have to fight him and the Royal army of Macedon. That will make you the foreign invader; you can avoid that eventuality by just waiting upon results.’

  Olympias made no comment to the observation.

  ‘And then consider if Kassandros defeats Polyperchon and comes north to claim the regency, what then? Would you fight him too? That would mean whatever happens after you seize Macedon without a fight you would have one against the winner in the south. Should you really go to war with Kassandros?’

  Olympias had no doubts. ‘He would still be my enemy after what his family have done to me.’

  ‘But would he, Mother? Would he really? At the moment, Polyperchon, as Antipatros’ successor, is your immediate enemy and you always taught me that your enemy’s enemy is your friend, no matter how vile they may be. And, granted, none could be much viler than Kassandros. But should he defeat and kill Polyperchon, would it not be better to come to some sort of accommodation with him so that you are not seen to be in power supported by an invading army? The Epirot troops can go home to be replaced by Kassandros’ army.’