To The Strongest

by Robert Fabbri

  Adherents to the cult, both male and female in various stages of intoxication, were grouped around her in the darkness, holding torches and swaying as a drummer, unseen amongst the shadowed trees beyond the gathering, delivered a gradually increasing beat. The women held up prodigious phalluses, made of fig-tree wood, glistening from recent usage; the men held a thyrsus, a wand of giant fennel covered in ivy and topped with a pine cone, pumping them in the air to the beat of the drum.

  A double-headed axe flashed in the hands of a giant of a man, wreathed in ivy, with spilt wine sticky on his belly and sporting a huge erection. Down the blade sliced to thump through the bull’s neck, severing the spinal column and exploding blood, dark in the torchlight. All four legs buckled as one as a shudder wracked through the beast; it fell, eyes wild and rolling, wound pumping, as a basin was placed to catch the precious fruit of sacrifice.

  ‘Euoi! Euoi!’ the congregation chanted over and over as initiates into the cult were brought forward for the final stage of the three-day initiation. The men, having enacted Dionysus’ life, death and rebirth, symbolically being dragged down to Hades to undergo an ordeal in the caves further down the hill – an ordeal that none would ever speak of again – were given cups of wine mixed with the blood of the bull; this drunk, they were presented with their thyrsus and allowed to join the main body of the worshippers.

  The female initiates were then brought forward, all prepared as Ariadne, the bride of Dionysus. Ritually, they were flagellated, Olympias herself brandishing the whip and causing more hurt than was strictly necessary. This done they received the cup of mixed wine and blood, many with tears of pain rolling down their cheeks and with welts reddening on their backs and buttocks; swallowing hard and fast, they drained their drinks and received from Olympias their fig-tree wood phalluses.

  And now the orgiastic climax of the ceremonies could begin as the man who had sacrificed the bull was ritually stoned to death in an enactment of the ancient practice. Pipes shrilled and the drumming became frenetic as wine was devoured in vast quantities.

  Olympias swilled her fill, her mind on the mystery of the ritual as she worked herself into a frenzy of religious passion, hair wild and feet stamping to the differing beats; all her cares and worries suspended as she focused solely on the magnificent erections of all the males present.

  A goat was forced into the throng; it kicked and bucked in terror and lowered its head to butt its way out of danger. Screaming with bloodlust, the worshippers barrelled after the beast, quickly cornering it and wrestling it to the ground. Teeth ripped at its flesh, tearing it apart; limbs were wrenched from its body as its bestial shrieking rose to an unheeding sky.

  Ripping a portion of raw flesh from the ravaged animal, Olympias stuffed it into her mouth; chewing maniacally, she danced, with one hand waving free, holding her phallus. Wine appeared and she washed the chewed meat down as more pipes sounded and the drumming became a blur. Over she was bent and, without preamble, entered; back she pushed herself, writhing on the rod within her, her cries escalating as the religious rapture grew until it burst with orgasmic delight, thrilling her senses and sending flashes across her vision as seed exploded inside her, potent and life-giving. She felt the withdrawal but within an instant was mounted again as if there were a queue waiting. She squeezed herself to more enjoy the bliss of a forced entrance as she watched other couples in similar trysts; others danced around the copulation, swigging from wineskins and tearing at handfuls of raw meat, fur still attached, blood still dripping.

  On she thrust, back and back, harder and harder as each new penis or wooden phallus brandished by a woman, pleasured her, until she could bear it no more and screamed her ecstasy to the god who had bestowed such great gifts of sensuality, again and again until, with a final scream, she knew no more.

  ‘You look terrible,’ Kleopatra said as she came into Olympias’ bedroom.

  Olympias raised her head and looked around but the pain became too much and she slumped back down onto the pillow; she ran her hands over her body. ‘Who dressed me?’

  ‘I did, someone had to. You were brought in naked with blood running down your legs and semen matting your hair.’

  Olympias put her fingers to her head. ‘It’s still there.’

  ‘Of course it’s still there; I wasn’t going to do any more than the bare essentials as you were fighting and screaming like a Harpy even when I was wiping the blood off you. And then you tore three shifts before I could get you dressed for bed so, no, I thought I’d leave the sperm to you, seeing as it suits you so well. And you wonder why I refuse to join your cult, Mother?’ Kleopatra held up a bronze mirror to her mother’s face. ‘Look at you and look at me and ask yourself who has the most dignity: the one with clean skin, combed hair, no bruises and a fresh dress on, or the one awash with spunk?’

  ‘It’s done for the glory and praise of our lord Dionysus, Kleopatra; in thanks for the joy of wine and the other gifts he brought us.’

  Kleopatra threw the mirror down to go clattering across the floor. ‘Well, if getting fucked by half of Pella helps glorify Dionysus, then you’ve done him proud.’

  Olympias winced and held her hands over her eyes. ‘Yes, whatever, but please don’t shout and stop throwing things around. How did I get back here?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care! It’s the same every year on the first full moon after the spring equinox. You shame yourself for three days and then turn up in such a state that the slaves can barely hide their sniggering—’

  ‘I’ll have the tongue out of any one of them I catch sniggering!’

  ‘They’re all sniggering at you but are too careful to show it; just remember that next time you feel the need to praise Dionysus.’

  Olympias waved a lazy hand at her daughter. ‘Stop it now, I’m your mother. Must get ready; how long until the regent’s council meets?’

  ‘It met yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday! How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘You’ve been unconscious for a day and two nights.’

  ‘But the council?’

  ‘The council met without you and decided to approve my marriage to Leonnatus.’

  ‘What about his claim to becoming king?’

  ‘They didn’t discuss it.’

  ‘Didn’t discuss it! Why not? If I had been there they would have discussed it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have been allowed in.’

  ‘Of course I would have, I’m the queen.’

  ‘You still wouldn’t have been allowed in. I wasn’t and when I said that they had no right to bar me they told me that they had every right as it was the regents’ council and not mine or yours; and if I insisted in taking a seat then they would all leave and go back to their estates.’

  ‘Then reassemble them and I’ll show them who’s in charge.’

  ‘They’ve all gone back to their estates and won’t return until Antipatros arrives back.’

  ‘Well, they’ll have a long wait then.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call two days a long wait.’

  Olympias looked at her daughter, trying to work out if she was joking.

  ‘That’s right, Mother, two days.’

  This can’t be true.

  ‘He escaped from Lamia.’

  ‘But he wasn’t meant to. Leonnatus was supposed—’

  ‘Leonnatus is dead.’

  ‘Dead!’

  ‘Dead.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The spies you had with Leonnatus’ army came in last night and, seeing as you weren’t able to, I debriefed them.’

  ‘It might not be true.’

  ‘Of course it’s true. That’s why Antipatros didn’t send a message back to Pella; he wanted to surprise you, it’s obvious. Had Leonnatus survived then he would have sent news of his glorious victory before him as that was the sort of man he was. No, Leonnatus is dead all right.’

  ‘But how can that be?’

  ‘The Thessalian cavalry caught h
im and his companions in the flank. How stupid can you get?’

  ‘But Menon was meant to—’

  ‘Yes, Mother? What was Menon meant to do? What have you been up to with your plots and scheming?’

  ‘Menon was meant to pretend to change sides and then take the phalanx in the flank so that it would be forced to withdraw and be unable to come to Antipatros’ aid. Leonnatus would then have had to withdraw back to Pella leaving Antipatros exactly where I want him.’

  ‘Well, Mother, that didn’t go at all well, did it? Antipatros broke out from the siege and Menon attacked the cavalry instead, killing my husband-to-be and completely ruining our plans. And when Antipatros gets back—’

  ‘Does he know what I did?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mother. I do know that he did talk to Leonnatus before he died.’

  ‘Then he does know.’

  ‘Why? Did you tell Leonnatus of your plot? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t persuade him not to relieve Antipatros so I thought I’d sabotage the attempt. Leonnatus needed cavalry so I got him cavalry by intriguing with Menon. I told Leonnatus that Menon would bring his five thousand Thessalians over to him. Once he knew that then he was ready to march south. Obviously I had to make him think that Menon was really changing sides; I told Leonnatus to send him three talents of gold as he approached the town as that was Menon’s price.’

  ‘Leonnatus would have mentioned that detail to Antipatros before he died, I’m sure.’

  ‘So that’s why Antipatros is trying to catch me by surprise. Well he won’t. Get packing, Kleopatra.’

  ‘Where are we going? Back to Epirus?’

  ‘No, there’s no power to be had there so we’ll search for it elsewhere; we’re going to take a ship to Asia, immediately.’

  ‘What about my children?’

  ‘I’ll send Thessonalike back to Epirus, she can look after them until we return.’

  ‘And we’re going to do what?’

  ‘If you can’t marry Leonnatus then let’s make the most of a bad situation and marry you to either the man who has the respect of all the army or the man who controls both the kings.’

  Kleopatra considered this for a few moments. ‘Yes, you’re right, Mother: Antipatros won’t relinquish his hold over Macedon, so the only people left who could force him into it is either Perdikkas or Krateros.’

  KRATEROS,

  THE GENERAL

  ‘AND YOU SAW these things with your own eyes, Akakios?’ Krateros asked as they walked with Kleitos along the quayside of Tarsus’ river port. A stiff breeze thrummed the rigging of the fleet crowding every berth as gangs of slaves toiled to victual the ships. Sailors scrubbed, caulked and made other running repairs to their vessels, readying them for sea. Triarchoi barked orders, urging their crews into more haste as they all knew that departure was imminent; Polyperchon had marched north with the main body of the army, with the exception of Antigenes’ Silver Shields, nine days previously. It had been the joint news that Leonnatus was heading to Lamia and that Perdikkas was coming up from Babylon that had spurred Krateros into action; but now there was fresh news.

  ‘I didn’t see Leonnatus dead with my own eyes but I spoke to a man who had,’ the triarchos replied, stepping over a coil of rope, ‘but I did see the Athenian fleet sailing north as we came through the straits of Euboea. We were lucky they didn’t spot us.’

  ‘At least a hundred and fifty vessels, all told.’

  ‘Yes, general; mostly biremes and triremes, nothing bigger.’

  ‘And that was three days after Antipatros began his withdrawal north?’

  ‘Yes, general, and it took us three days to reach you.’

  ‘And Antiphilus, the new Greek general, has not followed Antipatros?’

  ‘No, general, he remains in Thessaly.’

  ‘So the Athenian fleet has overtaken him which means that they are not working in tandem.’

  ‘They’re heading for the Hellespont,’ Kleitos said, slapping a slave carrying a heavy sack on his shoulders out of the way with his trident.

  Krateros nodded. ‘That was my thought too. They want to stop any reinforcements crossing back to Europe. It’s what I would do. The sight of a Macedonian army retreating for the first time in years and the news of Leonnatus’ death will give heart to all the Greek cities as well as to Epirus and the Illyrians. I would wager that even now ambassadors are travelling to every leader who has cause to hate Macedon with a view to gathering an alliance that will invade our country.’ He brooded on the matter in silence as they continued along the bustling quayside. ‘How long before you’re ready to leave, Kleitos?’

  ‘If we embark the Silver Shields overnight then we could sail tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. It’s three days to the Hellespont, if we have favourable weather. Polyperchon should arrive with the army in Abydus in seven days’ time which will leave us four days to defeat the Athenian fleet and clear the channel so we can cross to Europe.’

  ‘Plenty of time, general,’ Kleitos said, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of action again after the defeat of the pirates. ‘The thing about the Hellespont is that it’s very narrow so although that makes it easy to blockade it also makes it very easy to catch a blockading fleet as they have very little space in which to manoeuvre.’

  Krateros clapped Kleitos on the shoulder. ‘Very good, my personal Poseidon; I’ll give Antigenes orders to begin embarkation at sunset.’

  ‘The lads are refusing to go, general,’ Antigenes said in response to Krateros’ order.

  Krateros peered at Antigenes, mouth open in disbelief. ‘Refusing? They can’t; Macedon is at stake.’

  Antigenes was apologetic. ‘Well, I’m afraid that they have, general.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Most of them are in their sixties, some even in their seventies, and they feel that they’re too old to go back to Macedon and start families there. They want to stay.’

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘They want to join Perdikkas; they think that you were wrong to refuse his call for assistance in Kappadokia.’

  ‘It wasn’t a call, it was an order and he has no right to give me an order. And besides, Macedon itself is now under threat so, in hindsight, I was absolutely right to refuse him.’

  ‘Well, the lads want to join him.’

  And there is nothing that I can do to stop them as I’ve sent the rest of my troops north with Polyperchon. I’ll just have to make the best of it. ‘Very well, Antigenes, take them to Perdikkas and go with my blessing. If you want to do something that will make the political situation easier and help avert the unthinkable, then tell Perdikkas that it was me that sent you in response to his order.’

  Antigenes smiled, understanding the significance of the lie. ‘I will do, general. I wish you success against the Athenian fleet.’

  ‘Masts ahead!’ the lookout shouted down to the deck as the Macedonian fleet rounded the first point in the Hellespont, revealing the port of Abydus less than a league away.

  ‘How many?’ Kleitos called back from his position between the steering oars in the stern of the ship.

  There was a pause as the lookout, clinging to the masthead above a full-bellied sail, shielded his eyes and gazed along the narrow straits; dun and deep ochre hills fringed the blue ribbon of strait, just over a league wide at this point; the fields of Ilium lay on their starboard side. ‘Between seventy and a hundred.’

  ‘That’s just half of the fleet,’ Kleitos said to Krateros.

  ‘If they’re blockading Abydus, where are the rest?’

  ‘They could be blockading Cyzicus ahead in the Propontis?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Krateros felt worry begin to gnaw at his belly; he turned to look back west. ‘Or they could be behind and preparing to trap us in this channel.’

  Kleitos shared a concerned look with Krateros. ‘Then we had better finish this part of their force off quickly. We’ll get straight at them, lads!’ he roar
ed, shaking his trident in the air. ‘We’ve got the wind in our favour. Poseidon will do battle!’

  The crew cheered their Poseidon as the deckhands ran to action stations and the marines and archers took up position in the bow of the trireme. Below, the rowers rushed to their benches and readied their oars for the moment when the sail would be furled and the ship returned to human power.

  ‘Signal to the squadron commanders to follow my lead,’ Kleitos ordered his second-in-command. Ripping off his tunic he made his way to the prow of the ship, naked but for his sandals, and stood there, seaweed in his hair, with his trident pointing at the Athenian fleet as it became aware of the size of the fleet rounding to point.

  Krateros remained by the steersmen, mindful that there was little or nothing that he could do in the coming battle, he was a land general not one of the sea. He took off his kausia and wrung the water from the sodden wool; rolling the woollen sides back up, he looked to larboard and starboard: the narrow channel was alive with ships; triremes, biremes, lembi and transports, a fleet of two hundred and forty in total, all with sails set, faded by the salt air but made pregnant by the wind. As Kleitos’ signal relayed around the fleet the frontline squadrons, ten ships in each, took their triangular formations and held position with Kleitos’ lead squadron at point; behind it, a second line of eight squadrons, held in reserve, kept a thousand pace distance.

  On they drove with a full wind in their sails, churning the sea with rams protruding from their bows, leaving white water frothing in their wake. Gulls circled and swooped, screeching their mournful cries, excited by the sight of so many craft and the prospect of food; a grey-white globule of slime landed close to Krateros’ foot and he wondered if it was good luck or bad to be shat upon by a bird.

  Spray flew past Krateros’ face as the ship rode up on the swell and then crashed back down, slapping the surface on the other side of the wave, the rhythm slow but exhilarating as the fighting ships of the fleet began to pull away from the slower, more wallowing transports.