by H A CULLEY
Alexander hadn’t interfered initially in the persecution of his closest friend. He knew that Hephaestion was quite capable of fighting his own battles and he would be insulted if Alexander had felt it necessary to protect him. However, it irked him and his anger at what Nicanor and Leonnatus were doing grew inside him.
The prince was not someone who could contain his feelings for long. Finally he came up with a way to gain revenge on Nicanor and Leonnatus without embarrassing Hephaestion. He invited the two of them to join them for their early morning run. His other friends did go for a run but they rose later and ran for only a mile or two before eating a decent breakfast of bread, olives, yoghurt and fruit. They knew that Alexander rose before they did and went further, but no-one knew just how much further.
It therefore came as something of a shock when the bleary eyed Nicanor and Leonnatus were told that they would be running for twenty miles. Although Greek athletes were used to competing naked, the two boys were used to running in sandals and a chiton for their morning exercise. It therefore came as an unwelcome surprise to see that Alexander and Hephaestion were naked and barefoot.
Leonidas was similarly unclothed but he did carry a switch with which he encouraged his pupils to more strenuous efforts. After three miles Hephaestion’s’ two tormentors began to suffer from bleeding feet and stinging posteriors as Leonidas used his switch to urge them to keep up.
By the time that they had reached the seven mile point both of them had a neat pattern of crisscross marks on their bottoms and a dribble of blood was trickling down the backs of their legs. However, they were too exhausted to care. Both Alexander and Hephaestion had long since left them behind and Leonidas decided that he needed to rejoin them. After all, the prince was his responsibility, not these two unfit boys.
‘I can’t stay here mollycoddling you two. You are obviously useless as runners and personally I wouldn’t allow you to join the prince as ephebes next year, but that’s not my decision. Make your own way back to the palace.’
With that Leonidas set off at a fast pace to catch the other two up. Nicanor and Leonnatus looked at each other in dismay. They had fondly imagined that Alexander had invited them to join him as a mark of especial favour. Now they realised that the prince had intended to teach them a lesson. They were hurting and bleeding, felt belittled, and were ashamed at their envy of Hephaestion. Anyone who could keep up with Alexander over twenty miles was evidently someone worthy of their respect, not their enmity.
They had only just managed to limp back into Pella before the other two returned from their run. They were obviously exhausted but, following Alexander’s lead, the two insisted on bathing and rubbing healing ointment into Nicanor’s and Leonnatus’ lacerated bottoms before the prince and his friend had breakfast. Alexander embraced them when he had finished, Hephaestion held back but, when Alexander frowned at him, he too gave them a warm embrace. After that everyone accepted Hephaestion for what he was - Alexander’s most intimate friend.
-X-
A year after the Nemean Games Alexander and Hephaestion were entered in the ephebe class for the dolichos at the annual Pan-Hellenic Games. This time it was Olympia’s turn to host them. These games were the most important of the cycle and lasted for five days; the first day being devoted to boys’ events; that is for males from the age of ten to thirteen inclusive. The events for ephebes were held on the second day and the men’s events on the last three days. There were no events for women, though they were enthusiastic spectators.
Unlike the Nemean Games, the ephebes’ dolichos was run over five miles, the same as the men’s event. It was also better organised with the fourteen year olds being placed in the first group with the older ephebes behind them in order of age. Hephaestion was only running in the dolichos on the second day but Alexander had entered himself for the boy’s wrestling, termed the palé, on the first day as well.
Hephaestion could usually defeat Alexander when they wrestled but he was a year older, taller and stronger physically. None of his other companions could usually beat the prince and so he felt he had a good chance of gaining the coveted olive wreath, which was awarded to the victor of each event at the Olympic Games.
He was in the same group as other thirteen year olds and the group heats were held in the morning. In the afternoon the top two in the thirteen year olds category were matched against the top two of the twelve year olds, each of the four fighting the other three. The same happened for the ten and eleven year olds. The winner of the two categories then fought each other. Usually the older boy won but it wasn’t always the case and this year an eleven year old Illyrian was bigger than every other boy there.
Alexander had hoped that his father would have been able to come and watch him in both the palé and the dolichos but Philip was busy putting down a revolt in Thesprotia, a province of the Thessalian League, of which Philip was Archon. Alexander won his first few bouts easily but then he was matched against a Spartan boy who was nearly as big as the Illyrian in the final of his age group. Of even more concern was the fact that he seemed oblivious to pain. Alexander managed to get him into a head lock and he squeezed his thighs together, using his entwined ankles as the hinge, crushing the Spartan’s head between them.
He expected the other boy to submit as the pressure on his skull must be hurting him significantly, but instead he tried to move his head so that he could bite Alexander’s scrotum. This alarmed the prince more than somewhat and he hastily released his opponent. However he had forced the other boy’s shoulder onto the ground for several seconds as they grappled and this was enough to gain him the first point of the three he needed to win the bout.
The Spartan boy then tried to get his arms around Alexander so that he could crush his ribs and gain a submission, but the Macedonian realised what he intended and kicked him in the face with his heel when he made his move. The other boy shot backwards and landed on his back, conceding another point as he lay there winded. However, Alexander had lost his balance after making the kick and conceded a point himself when he fell onto his hip.
The other boy was now angry and he rushed at Alexander in a fury instead of thinking about what he was doing. The prince stepped out of the way of the other’s charge and tripped him up as he stumbled past him, trying to recover. The Spartan fell head first out of the marked circle on the ground and Alexander scored the final point necessary for a win.
He also won the next two bouts and he found himself facing the big Illyrian in the final. The latter had hardly worked up a sweat whilst winning the junior category and he had given one twelve year old a broken arm. He was two inches taller than Alexander, had a longer reach and must have weighed at least a dozen pounds more. His pre-pubescent penis and scrotum looked minuscule on such a beefy boy whereas Alexander was well into puberty and was quite well endowed for his age. He made use of the difference between them to taunt the other boy and he noted the fury in the other’s eyes with satisfaction.
When the bout started the Illyrian made the mistake of leaping at Alexander, but by the time he got there Alexander had moved to one side. The boy landed heavily on the earth and Alexander jumped on him, forcing his shoulders onto the ground with his knees. He was now one point ahead.
The Illyrian was now more cautious but he was still angry. Talking was not permitted during a bout, nor was deliberately trying to aim below the waist. However, Alexander risked a whisper whilst the two boys grappled together.
‘How come such a big boy has got such a little dick?’
Alexander saw the anger flare again in the other’s eyes and he deliberately broke the hold. With a scream of fury the Illyrian tried to grab him again but Alexander gripped one of the boy’s outstretched arms and pulled hard. As the boy shot towards him he twisted his body, still holding the arm, and used his hip to throw the Illyrian so that he landed heavily on his back. That gave Alexander another point and, without waiting for his winded opponent to recover, he pulled him around the ring by his ankles so
he couldn’t get up before he kicked him several times so that the dazed boy rolled over the line and out of the fighting area. It was hardly the most sporting of performances but Alexander didn’t care. He had won the olive wreath and that was all that mattered.
Hephaestion had watched every bout and he congratulated Alexander on winning but the other boy felt immediately that his praise was half-hearted and perfunctory.
‘You don’t seem very pleased for me,’ Alexander accused him once they were alone.
‘I’m not. That was unworthy of you, Alexander. I understand why you goaded him, but even that should have been beneath you. Then you kicked him when he was down. That’s not only unsporting, it was fighting dirty. The crowd were on your side up until then; now they feel sorry for that brute of an Illyrian and deride your victory. The wreath is worth nothing if you can’t wear it with pride and honour.’
Hephaestion was angry with his friend and he left their tent before they had a row and things were said that might damage their relationship. It was a wise move. Left to stew over what Hephaestion had said, Alexander eventually realised that he was right.
At the awards ceremony that evening when the wreath was placed upon his head to stony silence from the crowd, Alexander removed it and turned and placed it on the head of the Illyrian boy, who was standing next to him in the runner-up’s place. Such a public rejection of the victory wreath was unprecedented and there was a stunned silence before wild cheering and applause broke out. Then the onlookers started to chant Alexander’s name. By his action he had gained far more respect than if he had won honourably. It was a lesson in mass manipulation he wouldn’t forget and it made him realise how important Hephaestion’s sound common sense was to him.
The next day the two boys grinned at one another before the signal to start the ephebes’ dolichos. A brief nod told Hephaestion that Alexander had accepted what he had said the previous evening and that their bond was as strong as ever. Then both forgot about everything else and focused on winning the race.
They ran together and ignored the dozen or so who overtook them before they left the stadium. They were quite content to let others set the pace; those who led the way initially would burn out long before the finishing tape was breasted. However, when a few more overtook them they stepped up their pace. It was one thing to let others lead the way; it was quite another to gradually sink back into the middle of the field.
At the half way point a few of the early leaders had slipped back and they had overtaken others. Now Hephaestion lay in eighth place and Alexander in tenth with a sixteen year old Theban separating them. Suddenly the Theban sprinted to catch Hephaestion up and grabbed his shoulder, twisting him around so that he stumbled. The boy would have fallen had Alexander not been there to catch him. By the time that they had started to run again the Theban was twenty yards ahead.
The two Macedonians sprinted after him and, although the older boy tried to outrun them, they drew level, one on each side of him. Alexander nodded and both of them dug their elbows into the side of the boy in the middle as hard as they could. The Theban yelped and dropped back to recover.
They kept up their increased pace as the entrance to the stadium was now less than a mile away and there were still seven boys in front of them. Five of these were exhausted and the two Macedonians had little trouble in passing them. Alexander was beginning to wonder whether he could last at this punishing pace when he realised that the gates were only a few hundred yards away. They passed the ephebe who had been lying second as they entered the arena and now there was only one runner ahead of them. Alexander knew that they only had just over two hundred yards to go and the leader was twenty yards away.
Suddenly he broke away from Hephaestion and put everything he had into catching the seventeen year old in front of him. His friend had expected Alexander to fight him for second place and he was caught unawares as the prince sprinted ahead. He tried to stay with him but he was a yard or two behind him as Alexander reached the leader.
For a moment he wondered whether he had the energy to overtake him but then thought of the previous day when he had handed his wrestling award to the Illyrian thug. He was damned if he was going back to Pella without at least one wreath and he gritted his teeth, put his head down and forced his tortured leg muscles into making one last effort.
For a moment he didn’t know whether he had won. He had blacked out and was lying on the ground. He looked to his left and there was Hephaestion lying beside him in equal distress. Then he became conscious of a panting youth holding out his hand to congratulate him and the crowd shouting out his name. He had won and Hephaestion had come second by the narrowest of margins.
For the first time that night Alexander and all his friends got well and truly drunk.
Chapter Three – The Gardens of Midas
343 – 340 BC
Alexander returned to Pella flushed with success and his mother came to see him immediately she was told he had arrived to make a fuss of him. When his father sent for him he assumed that he also wished to congratulate him on his success at the Olympic Games. As Hephaestion had come second he took him along so that Philip could commend him as well.
It therefore came as something of a shock to find out that their achievement was not the reason for the summons. The king was closeted with Parmenion, which didn’t come as a surprise as the strategos was Philip’s best military commander, but he was standing in the background with another officer called Iphitos. The man standing next to Philip was a stranger, and a rather eccentric looking stranger at that. He looked to be about forty but he might be older. His rather sparse hair was elaborately curled to try and make it look as if there was rather more of it than there actually was. His full-length chiton was of fine wool dyed a rich crimson and embroidered with gold wire, but it didn’t quite cover his spindly ankles. His sandals were made of soft chamois leather. Altogether his appearance was faintly ludicrous, even if his clothes were of a much finer quality that even his father possessed.
‘Ah, good! Aristotle, this is my son Alexander, who seems to have seen fit to bring one of his friends with him, despite the fact that I didn’t summon him.’ Philip frowned and the frown deepened when his son replied.
‘I thought that you might have sent for me to congratulate me on my performance at the Olympic Games, father. It seemed a reasonable assumption in the circumstances,’ Alexander replied, making no attempt to hide his disappointment. ‘I brought Hephaestion with me in case you wanted to commend him on coming in a very close second. I’m sorry that doesn’t appear to be the case.’
‘Of course I’m pleased you won, not that I’d have expected anything less of my son, but we have rather more important things to discuss. You may leave us Hephaestion.’
‘Stay where you are,’ Alexander barked as the other boy made to leave. ‘Hephaestion is my other self. We have no secrets from one another. You can say to him whatever it is that you have to say to me.’
It didn’t take a genius to work out that Alexander was deeply upset and the way the conversation was going could only lead to another fight between father and son. Aristotle looked taken aback by the confrontation. He had responded to Philip’s request that he come and tutor his son and a few of his close friends in philosophy, geography and mathematics. He had expected Alexander to be overcome at the honour being done him by having such a distinguished tutor, instead the boy had totally ignored him. He was speechless with rage and was on the point of leaving, never to return.
Parmenion sighed and decided he need to do something before the situation got out of hand. As usual Philip’s headstrong behavior had brought out the worst in his son.
‘Basileus, may I congratulate both Prince Alexander and Hephaestion on their achievements and say how pleased I am that they have brought home more glory for Macedon.’
Philip turned and glared at his strategos for interrupting. Most men would have quailed before the irate king but Parmenion held his eyes and, after a minute o
r so, Philip relaxed.
‘What? Yes, of course. I’m sorry Alexander. Parmenion is right, as usual. I should have told you how pleased I am with you first, but I couldn’t wait to introduce you to the greatest philosopher of his age, or any age come to that.’
Aristotle paused on the point of heading for the door and preened himself instead. Alexander noted how susceptible the man was to flattery and stored the information away for later.
‘I’m delighted that my father has chosen such a distinguished teacher for me and for my closest companions.’ Alexander smiled and Aristotle reacted to the boy’s charismatic charm.
‘And I too am pleased to be able to enlighten such a promising student and his friends.’
‘Whereabouts are you staying in Pella? Will you live here in the palace?’ Alexander wasn’t really interested; he was just making polite conversation but the answer dumbfounded him.
‘Oh, you won’t be studying here in Pella,’ Philip told him. ‘There are far too many distractions. No, I have arranged for you to go to Mieza in the Gardens of Midas. You will live and study in the Precinct of the Nymphs.’
-X-
Alexander was allowed to take eleven of his friends to Mieza with him. Apart from Hephaestion, they included Nicanor and Leonnatus, who had both become good friends of his after the memorable early morning run; Cassander, the son of Antipater, one of Philip’s most senior officers; Ptolemy; Marsyas and Taulas, the hostage son of Pleuratus, an Illyrian king who Philip had defeated with great difficulty three years previously.
Apart from Aristotle himself there were several military instructors, numerous servants and a tetrachium of cavalry for their protection under the command of Nicanor’s elder brother, Philotas. He had been an ephebe until the previous year and at eighteen he would normally have been too young to be promoted to the rank of tetrachos, but being Parmenion’s eldest son made a difference.
