Alexander's Legacy: To The Strongest

by Robert Fabbri

  Cynnane could read her daughter’s thoughts. ‘You’ll only have to let him do it once or twice, Adea. Barzid has covered you, so you know how it is; it won’t come as a surprise to you.’

  ‘It’s not that, Mother. Barzid was kind enough to show me what men do to women, that doesn’t bother or interest me; like you, I prefer my own kind, as you know. What I fear is that just the sight of him will revolt me: I remember seeing him as a child, seeing his weakness, his slobber, his piss-stained tunic; I fear I’ll vomit as he covers me.’

  ‘I’ll make sure that I’m in the next room, sweet girl, and I’ll have a tasty morsel waiting for your pleasure once he has finished. Don’t worry yourself, Adea, I’ll always be there for you.’

  And Adea knew that to be the truth, for her mother had never left her side in the fifteen years of her life. They had been inseparable, eating, training and sleeping together, even when Cynnane had a lover in her bed and then, recently, when Adea had followed her mother’s lead and taken a slave-girl to dominate. Their life together had focused upon Cynnane passing on everything she knew to her daughter to forge her into a warrior princess in the traditional Illyrian fashion; here in the fastness of their mountainous country, safe from the poison potions of Olympias, Adea had become all that her mother had hoped she would and now, together, they planned for power.

  It had been Adea’s idea at the beginning, a year after Alexander’s death; Cynnane had been railing at Olympias’ scheme to regain power by marrying her daughter, Kleopatra, to Leonnatus and it had occurred to Adea that, for once, Olympias’ scheming was not as ambitious as it could be: why aim for a companion of Alexander’s when his half-brother and heir was unmarried? She had never thought that it would be her who would be the one to marry Philip when she had suggested it to her mother; she had barely even become a woman at the time and had absolutely no interest in men whatsoever. But she had submitted to her mother’s will and agreed to take the place that she had suggested Cynnane occupy. But it was with great reluctance for she feared to enter the world of men; indeed, Barzid was one of the few that she had come into contact with and, after, at her own request, he had shown her what it was like to be covered, she would have rather that it remained that way.

  It was with a heavy heart that Adea finally resigned herself to the actuality of what they were about to embark on. She took her mother’s hands in both of hers. ‘When do we leave, Mother?’

  ‘As soon as Barzid has assembled an escort worthy of a queen; he is summoning one hundred of the bravest warriors of the southern Illyrian tribes all mounted and with a spare horse each. We will need to travel fast and far for there will be many who would try to stop us. For that reason we’ll need to avoid Macedon and take the northerly route and come down to the Hellespont through Thrace and we need to be there before autumn if by the end of the year you are to be Macedon’s next queen.’

  ANTIPATROS, THE REGENT

  ‘FINALLY, SOME PEACE,’ Antipatros said as he rolled off his wife, his heart pounding with the recent exertion and his skin sleek with sweat. ‘With the Greek rebellion in the west dealt with, I can clear my head of the cares of defending the kingdom for an hour or two.’ He lay on his back with one arm behind his head and one around his wife and looked at the ceiling, trying to think no thoughts.

  ‘Has it been that bad?’ Hyperia asked, laying her cheek on his shoulder and running a finger over his chest.

  ‘At my age I should be taking my ease and not fighting wars and imposing punitive peace terms.’

  ‘Then why not relinquish the regency?’

  ‘And who would take over?’

  ‘Krateros?’

  ‘I’ve thought about it but not yet, he’s been away from Europe for so long that he’s forgotten the politics. Perhaps in a couple of years’ time he’ll be ready; I’ll just have to carry on until then.’

  ‘What about Kassandros, then?’

  ‘Kassandros! If you think that then you don’t know your stepson’s character, woman: he’s venal and power-hungry, possibly the worst combination. And added to that is his sense of inadequacy due to Alexander leaving him behind – something that I think he was right to do – which would make him the most unjust ruler and put everything that I have worked to achieve over the past dozen years in jeopardy.’

  ‘Why do you say that against your own son?’

  Antipatros considered the question, closing his eyes and stroking Hyperia’s shoulder. ‘The truth is that I have never liked him; he was a deceitful child and more arrogant than he had cause to be. And I believe him to be a coward; why, he hasn’t even killed a wild boar on a hunt and so therefore still has to sit up at table rather than recline and yet he seems to feel no shame. All in all, I’m pleased that Perdikkas has kept him in Babylon with a prestigious command, enough to satisfy his vanity and to keep him out of my way. No, my dear, I can’t give up the regency just yet, not until I’ve found someone strong enough to keep Kassandros from stealing it.’

  ‘Then you’ll die as the regent because there’s not a stronger man than you in all Macedon.’

  Antipatros smiled, feeling a great affection for his wife now that the urgent need to bed her had been satisfied; indeed, he had made his way directly to her chamber upon his arrival back at Pella, not one hour previously, despite the fact that Archias the Exile-Hunter had returned from his errand in the south and was waiting to see him. He turned and kissed her as he braced himself for asking the question which they both knew would come. ‘Are you ready to say goodbye to Nicaea and Eurydike, Hyperia; the time has come for them to leave for their husbands and it’ll be many years before you will see them again, if ever.’

  ‘It’s not so much me that I’m concerned about, it’s you. You are probably never to see them again; I, at least, have the advantage over you in youth.’

  She’s right; but still I must go through with it if we are to have peace. ‘We’ll have the consolation of keeping Phila here. And Nicaea we may well see again; but Eurydike in Egypt? Well, I doubt that very much.’

  ‘So do I and that is why I’ve made an arrangement without your knowledge.’

  Antipatros looked at his wife, curious.

  ‘I know that Eurydike is going to be completely isolated from her family so I’ve arranged that her cousin, Berenice, goes with her to Egypt as a companion.’

  Antipatros squeezed Hyperia’s shoulder in approval. ‘That is a fine idea; Berenice is happy to go?’

  ‘Yes; now that her late husband, Philip, has left her widowed with three small children, it appeals to her sense of adventure. Her mother, Antigone, and I both agree that it is for the best.’

  ‘And what has Magas got to say about it?’

  ‘Berenice has always respected her father, but now that the man Magas had chosen for her is dead, she feels that her life is her own to lead.’

  ‘She has always been a headstrong girl, just like Antigone.’

  ‘She knows what she wants and she thinks that she won’t find it here; to tell you the truth, it was Berenice who suggested it and who was I to say no when it meant support for Eurydike?’

  ‘And with Iollas accompanying Nicaea, both the girls should feel less cut off from the family.’

  ‘But I will miss you so much, Father,’ Nicaea said, putting her arms around Antipatros’ neck and kissing his cheek.

  ‘As shall I, Father,’ Eurydike said with a tear in her eye, kissing his other cheek as Iollas looked on.

  He hugged them each in return, his gaze falling through his study window onto the fleet that would bear his daughters away, preparing for sea down in the harbour to the south of the city. ‘And I you; but we all must do our duty despite personal feelings. Your marriage to Perdikkas, Nicaea, and yours to Ptolemy, Eurydike, will go a long way to ensuring peace in our lives and even further into the future if you both produce strong sons. These are fragile times, my girls, and family alliances such as I’m making will save much suffering. Now ready yourselves for the morning for then we
really do say goodbye for what may well prove to be a very long time.’ He stroked their cheeks and smiled with saddened eyes and then indicated that they should leave him.

  Turning as Nicaea and Eurydike left his study, Antipatros picked up a scroll from his desk and handed it to Iollas. ‘When you get to Babylon, give this to Kassandros.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘No doubt you will read it anyway, so I may as well tell you. I want him to stay in Babylon and watch out for his half-sister, I wouldn’t want an accident to happen to her. Perdikkas may be marrying her but I would be a fool to trust him completely, especially after she’s borne him an heir.’

  Iollas looked at his father in shock. ‘You don’t think that Perdikkas would…’

  ‘I would just feel better if Kassandros would stay in Babylon and, er, make his presence felt, shall we say.’ And keep well out of my way here in the north. ‘It will keep Perdikkas’ mind focused on his ties with our family. Now go and prepare for the journey and send Archias in as you leave.’

  Archias placed the two small boxes on the desk and grinned. ‘A man’s life blood is dark and mortal; once it wets the earth what song can bring it back?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Agamemnon, by Aeschylus.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Antipatros winced at the cloying smell of decay emanating from the boxes; he did not wish to open them but knew that it was expected of him by the Exile-Hunter; if he paid the man to kill for him then he could at least bear witness to the proof of those kills.

  ‘That is Hyperides’,’ Archias said as Antipatros opened the first box to reveal a severed human tongue, part-shrivelled in the heat. ‘His was the shorter of the two. He tried to seek sanctuary in the shrine of Aeacus on Aegina.’ Archias gave a grim laugh. ‘As if some long-dead demi-god could prevent justice being meted out. I left his body exposed for the birds.’

  Antipatros nodded and opened the second box; he gasped. The tongue was swollen and almost purple in colouring.

  ‘Poison,’ Archias informed him. ‘The old rabble-rouser managed to take matters into his own hands. He had taken sanctuary in Poseidon’s shrine on Calauria; neither I nor my men were keen on breaking that boundary, what with so much sea to cross in the coming months.’

  ‘Yes, quite,’ Antipatros said, concentrating far more on the body part that had been the cause of so much violence. Two wars that tongue started and never once did it apologise for either of them.

  ‘So, realising that we had the place surrounded and he could choose between starvation, a rhomphaia or poison, he took the latter.’

  Antipatros closed the lid. ‘You and your men have done well, Archias.’

  ‘My money?’

  Antipatros scooped up a heavy purse from the desk and threw it to the Exile-Hunter. ‘That’s for the tongues. I’ll pay you half the money for escorting Nicaea and Iollas to Babylon now and then Kassandros will pay you the other half when you get there.’

  ‘Kassandros? I know of no one with any reason to trust him.’

  Antipatros sympathised with the opinion. ‘He will pay. I’ve written to order him to; it’s in the letter that Iollas carries. Come back to me when you’re done; I’ll have plenty of work for you in the coming months.’

  ‘Then we had better get going.’

  ‘The fleet will sail at dawn tomorrow.’

  ‘What do you mean: the Asian fleet will stay in the east?’ Krateros exclaimed, astounded, as he and Antipatros arrived at the harbour the following morning.

  ‘Exactly that, Krateros: the Macedonian fleet will stay here in the north along with those vessels captured from the Athenians, and the fleet that you commandeered in Asia will return there with Kleitos the White. Half will stay in Tarsus and the other half will go onto Alexandria.’

  ‘But it’s my fleet.’

  ‘No it isn’t; it’s Alexander’s seeing as he commissioned you to assemble it; now he is dead, it belongs to the empire. And even if it were yours, you’ve put it and your army under my authority.’

  ‘But that’s…that’s…’

  ‘Politics, Krateros, politics. If I keep the entire fleet here then it will make me look the aggressor.’ Antipatros turned to Krateros and took him by the shoulders. ‘We must avoid descending into war. I must avoid it – at all costs. And the best way to do that is to give Perdikkas and Ptolemy half the Asian fleet each as a dowry for Nicaea and Eurydike; then we’ll all have the same.’

  ‘But Kleitos is my man.’

  Antipatros smiled and patted Krateros on the shoulders. ‘So he is; now he’s going to stay in Tarsus and serve Perdikkas but it wouldn’t surprise me if he always remained your man.’

  Understanding dawned on Krateros. ‘You sly old fox; Kleitos will come over to us should Perdikkas try to use the fleet against us.’

  ‘Or go the other way and attack Ptolemy.’

  ‘Thus ensuring Ptolemy’s gratitude and loyalty.’ Krateros grinned and shook his head in wonder. ‘You’re giving Perdikkas nothing, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not true, my friend; I’m giving him – and Ptolemy – very generous dowries for my daughters.’

  Antipatros could not restrain the tears as he, Hyperia, Phila and Krateros stood on the quay of Pella’s harbour and watched the trireme cast off, taking his daughters to an uncertain future. Nicaea, Eurydike and Berenice would travel together as far as Tarsus where Nicaea was to disembark with Iollas and their escort to travel overland to Babylon in the cooler winter weather. Eurydike with her companions, Berenice and her three children, would then complete the voyage to the new city of Alexandria and the realm to Ptolemy.

  Will this spending of my daughters be enough? Will history thank me for it or will I be seen as a romantic fool who thought that family ties could prevent the breakup of the greatest empire ever seen?

  Phila wept as copiously as her mother, each hanging onto the other in a way that seemed to make it impossible for them both to remain upright.

  Berenice’s farewells with her mother and father, Magas and Antigone, had been equally as tearful, although the three children, Magas, Antigone and Theoxena were too young to understand the full implications of the journey; Theoxena, indeed, was still a babe in arms.

  A few of the citizens had turned out to wish the women farewell but not as many as the significance of the occasion warranted; not many of the ordinary folk of Pella could grasp the high-stakes politics that this move represented and the likely consequences should it prove to be insufficient.

  It was with a silent prayer to Zeus to hold his hands over an uncertain world that Antipatros tore his gaze from the receding ship; but it was half-hearted as he had lived long enough to know that it was chaos that ruled, not the deities. On sighting Polyperchon walking at speed towards him with disaster written on his face, Antipatros halted his petition to father Zeus mid-prayer – the deity had evidently not even begun to listen. ‘Well?’

  ‘I’ve just had reports from two separate sources in the north.’ Polyperchon swallowed as he considered how to frame the news. ‘The witch, Cynnane, and her daughter have left Illyria keeping to the north of us, heading for Thrace and thence into Asia.’

  Antipatros’ eyes widened. ‘Where’re they going? Whom do they plan to marry?’ He glanced back at the ship now disappearing into the channel that connected the harbour with the open sea. ‘Not Perdikkas or Ptolemy, surely?’

  Polyperchon shook his head. ‘In a way, would that it were one of those two or both of them even but this is far worse. Cynnane plans to marry her daughter to the fool, Philip.’

  Antipatros put his hand to his forehead. A child from that union – if it were possible, and it may be – would cause years of uncertainty and Adea, married to Philip, would be able to speak with his voice. That cannot happen. ‘Send a message to Lysimachus and have him apprehend them as they cross his territory. How many in their escort?’

  ‘A hundred or so, all cavalry.’

  ‘Tell him two hundred will be sufficient; but make
sure that they know not to kill them; just turn them back. Killing Alexander’s eldest sibling and her royal daughter would be the height of folly.’

  ADEA, THE WARRIOR

  THEY HAD FOLLOWED the course of the River Strymon for two days now, staying on the flood-plain on its western bank as the six-paces-wide stream bent to the south towards the sea. During the twelve days they had been travelling from Illyria, through the lands of the Agrianes, to the north of Macedon, and then bypassing Philippopolis and skirting to the south of the Haemus Mountains and on into Thrace itself, they had seen very few people; Adea was starting to hope they would escape Europe unnoticed.

  Cynnane and Barzid had driven the mounted column on at the fastest pace possible over the varying terrain, every man swapping between his two horses four or five times a day to get the most out of each beast. They had made broad detours around any habitation larger than a collection of hovels and those people they had come across, hunters in the main, had been more frightened of them than curious, disappearing as fast as they could. They were almost, now, at the end of the first stage of their journey.

  ‘What do we do when we reach the sea, Mother?’ Adea asked, rubbing her saddle-sore rump as she changed horses for the second time that day.

  ‘I’ve brought money; a lot of money. Barzid has it distributed about the men to carry. It, along with the price of the horses, will be enough to get us a ship.’

  ‘Where to?’

  Cynnane did not answer her daughter’s question, but, rather, shielded her eyes against the late morning sun and gazed south. ‘Barzid! Tell me what you see.’

  Adea swung herself up onto her second horse as Barzid strained his eyes and looked south. There were figures, unmistakably, figures on horseback, but how many she could not reckon.

  ‘Cavalry, mistress,’ Barzid announced. ‘More than we have; I would say twice our number. They are on the opposite side of the river and coming this way.’