The Three Paradises

by Robert Fabbri

  Archias smiled. ‘Kassandros.’

  ‘And his family.’

  ‘He will have to kill her.’

  ‘Or die himself along with all his kin, and I mean all of them.’

  ‘But if you want her dead why not just pay me to kill her?’

  ‘I know you to be a man of discretion but somehow the fact that I had paid for the murder of Alexander’s mother would come out and I might start finding it hard to hire men or keep allies, all sorts of things.’ Ptolemy stood to show that the audience was at an end. ‘I would much rather have my less-creditable deeds done by someone else; in this case you and Kassandros.’

  KASSANDROS.

  THE JEALOUS.

  ‘AND YOU CAN tell the assembly that I will not release the farmland back to you until you disenfranchise the poor – that is everyone with less than two thousand drachmas to their name – restore the oligarchy, take my choice as the leader of that group and agree to feed the garrison that I will leave in the fortress of Munychia in Piraeus.’ Kassandros looked at the bearded faces of the Athenian delegation, one by one, as they stood before him in his camp outside Athens’ walls – the very place where Alexandros and Polyperchon had stayed – and then shrugged in a take it or leave it manner.

  A delegate stepped forward. ‘But Demetrios of Phalerum is—’

  ‘Is my choice!’

  ‘But he is a philosopher not a politician.’

  ‘He is loyal to me and to my family; that is all I care about. You have no one to blame other than yourselves for killing Phocion and his friends.’

  ‘But Demetrios of Phalerum isn’t even yet forty.’

  ‘Neither am I and yet I control Athens at the moment.’

  ‘But he isn’t even Athenian; how can he vote in the assembly if he’s a foreigner?’

  ‘Do you think I care; if it is so important to you then I suggest that you give him citizenship. But he is not there to vote, he will be there to tell you how to vote.’

  ‘A dictator!’

  ‘A guide; now get out of my sight, none of this is negotiable. Come back when you have voted to accept my terms and then I shall move my army on and you will get your land back; until then, I stay and my men eat your food.’ Kassandros waved his hand in dismissal as he stood and turned away from the delegation and walked back into his tent trying to disguise his limp. Argue, argue, argue, that is all Greeks ever do; they will never do as they are told without they give you a thousand reasons why they should do something else or nothing at all. I should have simply executed one of the delegation just to see whether the rest would carry on arguing. He smiled at the notion. Perhaps I’ll do that next time. He pulled his helmet off and threw it down on the bed before pouring himself a cup of wine; he took a large swig and felt its calming effects almost immediately.

  Slumping down onto a chair with a sigh, he drained the rest of the cup. It had been a rapid few days; days in which he had had to react with haste to take advantage of what seemed to him to be a monumental error on the part of Alexandros: his father, Polyperchon, had only recently moved his army off to Megalopolis when, for some reason that Kassandros did not yet fully understand, Alexandros withdrew. Fearing a trap but unwilling to let the opportunity pass, Kassandros led his army – now reinforced by mercenaries but still not large enough for purpose – out of Piraeus and took up Alexandros’ old position; nothing happened, no attack came and he had become the new master of Athens. He shook his head, unable to believe his luck. Now all he needed was more men. Where is Nicanor?

  Kassandros had been expecting Nicanor of Sindus for the past few days, assuming that he had not been defeated by Kleitos the White’s fleet. However, he thought that possibility unlikely if the plan to trap it between Antigonos’ fleet in the Propontis and Nicanor’s as he came through the Hellespont worked – and there was no reason to think it had not. And yet, despite having left more than half a moon ago, there had been no message from the man. Kassandros thumped his thigh with his fist and immediately regretted it as it was his weak leg. If Antigonos has kept him back I’ll never forgive him. And that had been his main concern for he needed that fleet to support his army as it moved north and perhaps even to bypass the Gates of Thermopylae should Polyperchon hold it against them. He cursed himself for sending Nicanor off in the first place but Adea’s information concerning Kleitos’ movements and the opportunity to destroy Polyperchon’s navy had proved too irresistible to turn down. However, the exercise did have one unfortunate consequence should it have been successful: it also helped Antigonos; it left him in command of the Asian shore with nothing to stop him crossing his army into Europe, provided he came to some sort of arrangement with Lysimachus.

  Kassandros fumed as he realised that what had been an entirely self-serving operation in ridding himself of enemy shipping in Greek and Macedonian waters, might also have had the effect of stripping him of his own fleet – the fleet that he had promised to give back but had no intention of doing so – should Antigonos refuse to let it leave the Propontis.

  It therefore came as a relief to him when his younger twin brothers ran into his tent, their faces alight with relief and pleasure. ‘He’s in sight,’ Philip said.

  ‘Who?’ Kassandros growled – he had worked himself up into a rage thinking of Nicanor’s absence.

  ‘Nicanor of Sindus and the fleet.’

  Kassandros jumped to his feet. ‘Gods below! At last; I’ll go down to Piraeus and greet him personally.’

  But it was not with relief that Kassandros watched the arrival of the returning fleet as it glided through the great harbour mouth, it was with fury. Fury not because of the losses the fleet had sustained – a little over two-thirds of the original one hundred and five ships had made it back – but because of the manner of their return. He makes to be my equal with that display; how dare he claim glory for himself before my eyes. Again Kassandros thumped his leg and again he regretted it, but the provocation was too much to bear for Nicanor of Sindus was returning to Piraeus in the manner of a victorious general – which, to some extent, he was – with his ships bedecked with the trophies of war at sea: the beaks of enemy ships. And the garrison cheered as Nicanor arrived and his marines and sailors cheered back, all waving hats or pieces of cloth in the air and shouting their praises to the goddess Nike, the personification of victory, and promising lavish sacrifices in her honour that evening.

  With an effort of gargantuan proportions, Kassandros prevented himself from shaking with rage, anxious that those around him should not guess his mood and the cause of it. I need to deal with this quickly; there must be no warning. So, therefore, it was with a smile, the best he could manage, that he waited on the quay as Nicanor’s vessel docked to the cheers of all watching.

  ‘My friend,’ Kassandros said, limping towards the victorious general and opening his arms in welcome. ‘Am I to take it that the venture was a success?’

  Nicanor threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘A success, Kassandros? It was more than just a success: it was annihilation, complete and utter. Just one ship escaped; Polyperchon no longer has a navy. We are masters of these waters, Kassandros; we can go wherever we please.’ With that, Nicanor fell into Kassandros’ embrace and their palms slapped one another’s backs as they made declarations of friendship and mutual support.

  ‘Mutual support!’ Kassandros spat, glaring at Pleistarchos and Philip as if they had been the origin of such an outrage. ‘Mutual support, as if we are equals! He supports me with unquestioning loyalty and not the other way around. It is not mutual!’ He paused to draw breath; he had been on the subject for a while and had worked himself up into another pleasing state of fury. ‘And did you hear him? “We are masters of these waters, Kassandros; we can go wherever we please.”’ His voice mocked Nicanor’s. ‘We! We are masters! There is only one master in Greece and Macedon and that is me!’ He kicked a folding stool at the twins; they each leaned in opposite directions so that it passed between them. ‘Get me my secretar
y, Pleistarchos, and you, Philip, get me half a dozen men whom we can really trust and take them to my suite in Piraeus. I’ll show Nicanor the true meaning of mutual support; I’ll bring him up so high that the fall will be even more dramatic.’

  The twins scuttled from the tent, leaving Kassandros fuming with righteous indignation. Mutual support; how dare he? Still, it will serve as a good lesson to others as to what to expect if you try to treat me as an equal.

  The arrival of his secretary did nothing to calm Kassandros’ rage; he kicked the man up the backside to hurry him over to the desk.

  ‘Is it done?’ Kassandros barked as the secretary sprinkled fine sand over the copy of the letter he had just finished writing out in a fair hand.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the secretary whispered, his voice shaky after a tempestuous session of rapid dictation.

  Kassandros snatched the letter and ran through it before thrusting it back at his secretary. ‘Put the names of all the heads of the leading families in Pella and the surrounding cantons as well as my stepmother, Hyperia, and my brother, Nicanor.’ He paused for a thought, remembering Alexander’s senior bodyguard now in retirement on his estates to the west after his defeat on Cyprus by Antigonos. ‘But not Aristonous, that would be stretching credulity too far. Once that is done, do a similar letter as if it were from the leading families of Pydna, understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ was the quivering reply.

  ‘Good. Once it’s done have them delivered to me, as if they have just arrived in Piraeus, when I’m walking with Nicanor of Sindus this evening.’

  And so it was in a state of overt bonhomie that Kassandros strolled along the harbour with his arm around Nicanor’s shoulders as the sun burned the western sky. ‘Seventy-two ships are seventy-two ships more than Polyperchon has, my friend; yes it was a shame to lose so many but it will be enough for us to take the war to Polyperchon and Alexandros in the Peloponnesus. Polyperchon is bogged down besieging Megalopolis; we’ll take the army by sea around to the Bay of Argolis and land it there. I’ll move inland and retake Tegea from Polyperchon and then attack him at Megalopolis if he hasn’t already been repulsed whilst you keep me supplied from Athens.’

  ‘Together we will sweep Greece free of Polyperchon and his son,’ Nicanor said, shaking his fist as they walked.

  ‘Kassandros! Kassandros, sir!’ a voice shouted from behind them.

  They turned to see the secretary running towards them, waving two scrolls.

  ‘Two letters have just arrived for you, sir! From Macedon.’

  Kassandros took the letters from the wheezing secretary, dismissed him with a wave of the hand and unrolled the first. His eyes widened as he mouthed the words and then he read out loud: ‘…and we ask, no, beg, that you should come immediately to Macedon and take the crown.’ He looked at Nicanor, his eyes full of incredulity and showed him the list of names at the end of the letter. ‘The crown? Me?’

  ‘But what about King Philip?’ Nicanor asked.

  ‘He’s dead; poisoned by Roxanna soon after they arrived at Pella. The leading families don’t want the Asian babe as their king along with his murderous mother; they want strength and stability and together we could provide them with that.’ He slapped Nicanor on the shoulder and gave him his widest grin. ‘Go and give the orders for three ships to be prepared for the journey to Macedon; we’ll sail tomorrow at dawn, and have the rest of the fleet readied for the expedition to the Peloponnesus which we’ll embark upon before the end of the month. Once you’ve done that join me in my suite here and we’ll discuss our futures in Macedon.’

  ‘I won’t be long, Kassandros, my good friend,’ Nicanor said, grasping the proffered forearm. ‘Now is our time.’

  Kassandros sat in a darkened room, the shutters pulled, as he listened to Philip escorting Nicanor across the courtyard of his Piraeus suite. He smiled, cold and resolute, as he realised just how much he was enjoying himself.

  Philip opened the door, letting in a bright shaft of light in which many motes of dust wafted as Nicanor breezed in.

  ‘All done?’ Kassandros asked, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘All done,’ Nicanor confirmed as Philip stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and plunging the room into semi-darkness. Nicanor stopped still at the sound of the lock clicking. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘What, my friend?’ Kassandros asked, his voice innocent.

  ‘Why are we in darkness and why have you locked the door?’

  ‘Oh, that. Well, it’s quite simple. We’re in darkness so that you wouldn’t see these fine gentlemen as you walked into the room.’ He waved a hand and six soldiers stepped forward from the shadows. ‘And I’ve had the door locked so as you wouldn’t be able to get out. I think that explains it all perfectly simply. Take him.’

  Rough hands grabbed Nicanor, easily suppressing his struggles.

  ‘What are you doing, Kassandros?’

  ‘I’m arresting you and now I’m putting you on trial. Did you say: “We are masters of these waters, Kassandros; we can go wherever we please”?’

  ‘You can’t do this!’

  ‘I can and I am; answer the question. Did you say that?’

  ‘It was a figure of speech.’

  ‘And parading the beaks of the enemy ships and milking the glory out of my fleet’s victory was also a figure of speech, was it?’

  ‘It was a famous victory.’

  ‘Was it? I spoke to a few of the triarchoi and it seems to me that you were roundly defeated at first and it was Antigonos who should claim any glory for the victory. Were you ever going to tell me the truth of the matter or were you just going to carry on with the fiction that you, you! had won a great victory. And what were you going to do with that glory, that kudos? Do you think that I could leave you in command of the most strategic port in Greece? A place that, with enough men inside, is almost impossible to take? Am I that stupid? Is that what you think?’

  ‘No, Kassandros.’

  ‘No, sir. I am your superior and yet you use familiar terms with me because, for some reason, you seem to have got it into your head that you are my equal. Now, answer the question. Did you say: “We are masters of these waters, Kassandros; we can go wherever we please.”

  ‘Yes, but I—’

  ‘Guilty; execute him.’

  ‘No…’ Nicanor’s head was pulled back, Philip’s hand clamping on his mouth stifling his protests as the officer commanding the soldiers drew his sword.

  Despite his violent resistance, Nicanor was held rigid as the blade approached him, his eyes following it in fear.

  It was clean; one punched thrust, and blood spurted from the gut wound. Twisting his wrist, the officer pulled out his weapon and Nicanor was released; he fell to his knees groaning with agony.

  Kassandros got to his feet. ‘Open the door, Philip.’ He looked down at Nicanor as the shaft of light fell on him. ‘Does that hurt? I hope so. Well, you’ve got plenty of time to enjoy it: this is a slow execution, you see; one belly wound and then I lock the door and leave you to die. If you’re lucky, you may be dead by the time I sail for Macedon tomorrow.’ He looked at the officer. ‘Take his sword and dagger; we wouldn’t want him cheating on me, would we?’ He turned to go and then paused, looking back. ‘And, oh, by the way, those letters were fakes; King Philip is still alive and no one has asked me to take the crown, yet. However, I am going to Macedon tomorrow. Not to become king, but to claim the regency. Goodbye, die badly.’ He walked from the room with his men following behind him, leaving Philip to close the door, dulling Nicanor’s growing cries of pain at every laboured breath and smiled as he heard the click of the lock.

  And he smiled again as he saw the size of the crowd waiting for him on the quay of Pella’s port: it was more than he had dared hope, even though he had sent a swift boat ahead of him to forewarn Adea of his coming. She certainly does have her uses which is more than can be said of her husband. He scanned the crowd for his brother, Nicanor and stepmother, Hyperia, a
nd allowed himself another smile when he saw them as that meant they would have also received his messages and put in train the gathering of his family’s forces.

  However, the smile with which he descended the gangplank was far less sincere, but what it lacked in sincerity it made up for in broadness. ‘Your Majesty,’ he crooned at King Philip, ‘it is an honour to come at your summons.’

  Philip hopped up and down with excitement, drooling prolifically from both sides of his mouth. ‘I did summon you, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did,’ Kassandros lied, ‘and I came immediately. What is Your Majesty’s pleasure?’

  Philip stopped hopping, squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to remember and then looked down at his toes. ‘To play with my elephant,’ he said in a low voice.

  Adea stepped forward to retrieve the situation, the carefully scripted, simple dialogue that Kassandros had sent ahead having proved too much for her husband. ‘The king wishes his loyal subject, Kassandros, to assume, with me, the regency of him and his royal brother, Alexander, the fourth of that name. King Philip hereby decrees that Polyperchon should lay down the office and return the Great Ring of Macedon to him.’ Her voice was clear and carried over the crowd, who cheered with great enthusiasm the wisdom of their king.

  Kassandros held his hands in the air, waving them for silence. ‘It will be an honour for me to serve my king and my country in the manner he has decreed.’

  This brought a rapturous reception from the crowd in whose midst his brother Nicanor was leading the applause and gesturing for more volume, as Hyperia encouraged the ladies, to one side, to lend their voices to the ovation.