It is no surprise that historians from ancient times to the present have looked at the assassination of Philip and imagined various conspiracies that reach far beyond the simple vengeance of a wronged lover. Suspicion has centered primarily on Olympias, the mother of Alexander, rather than on Alexander himself, though many would grant that the king’s son had ample motive and opportunity. Philip was soon leaving for his campaign against Persia and had no plans to include his son in the glory the expedition would surely win. Alexander would serve at home as regent, perhaps for years, while Philip increased in power and won the riches of Asia by his sword.
The reported actions of Olympias before and after the murder lend credence to the idea that she was involved in Philip’s death. She had been urging her brother to declare war on Philip ever since her divorce, only to see her disgrace overlooked when Philip offered the king of Epirus a royal princess as his bride. Some say she then lent young Pausanias a sympathetic ear as he complained of his gross mistreatment at the hands of Attalus. It was absolutely unthinkable, she assured him, that such injustice could go unpunished. When Pausanias revealed his plans to her, the story goes, she encouraged him and even provided the horse for his escape. After his death, stories circulated that she placed a golden crown on his head while he still hung on the cross. When his body was taken down a few days later, she allegedly cremated it over the remains of her husband and later erected a tomb for Pausanias next to that of Philip.
Which, if any, of these reports are true is unknown, but we can be certain that in the months after Philip’s death Olympias struck against her enemies like a viper. When Alexander was away, she forced Philip’s young bride, Cleopatra, to commit suicide after forcing her to watch as her infant daughter was roasted alive. Alexander was reportedly shocked by his mother’s behavior, but he did not punish her.
As for Alexander, we will never know if he was involved in Philip’s assassination or if he had knowledge of the plot and did nothing to stop it. Plutarch records a story that Pausanias came to him after his vile abuse at the hands of Attalus seeking sympathy and advice. Alexander listened to his complaints, but instead of offering assistance he merely quoted a passage from Euripides: “The giver of the bride, the groom, and the bride.”
This cryptic line from the Medea in which a wronged wife plots revenge against her husband, his new bride, and the bride’s father would have been taken by Pausanias as a suggestion to do away with Attalus, Philip, and Cleopatra. However, this episode, as so many in the aftermath of Philip’s death, may well have been invented after the fact. What we can be certain of is that, guilty or not, Alexander had everything to gain from his father’s murder.
Alexander performed the duties of a faithful son and buried Philip with all royal honors in a grand tomb at Vergina. Philip’s body was first placed on a pyre then cremated according to custom in front of the whole Macedonian army. When the fire had died down, attendants gathered Philip’s bones, washed them in wine, then wrapped them in a royal purple robe. The remains were placed in a stunning golden chest decorated on top with a sixteen-point star, along the sides with intricate blue glass rosettes, and on the bottom with the carved feet of a lion. This chest in turn was placed inside a stone sarcophagus in a magnificent tomb along with silver drinking vessels, armor, weapons, a golden wreath fit for Zeus himself, and many other priceless objects worthy of a Macedonian king. Above the entrance to the tomb was a colorful painting of a hunting scene, one of Philip’s favorite activities. Finally, in front of the tomb Alexander ordered the construction of a small shrine for the worship of his father as a divine hero. In death Philip had at last achieved what he had sought in life—a place among the gods.
No sooner was Philip buried than Alexander began the fight to secure his throne. One of his first supporters was another Alexander, from Lyncestis in the western mountains of Macedonia. He enthusiastically hailed Alexander as king even before Philip’s body was cold and accompanied the prince into the palace, though this deed may have been motivated by self-preservation more than genuine affection. The two brothers of Alexander of Lyncestis were soon executed for suspicion of involvement in Philip’s murder and it is quite possible that their sibling wanted to distance himself from their actions in a very public way.
But the new king’s most important early ally was wily old Antipater, one of Philip’s top generals. He had faithfully served Philip’s brother Perdiccas, then Philip, and now he saw his future dependent on securing the kingship for Alexander. He knew the key to Macedonian power was the army, so he accompanied the young man to an assembly of the troops. If Alexander could win their backing the throne would be his, but it would not be easy. Many of the soldiers were weary from serving in Philip’s endless wars far from their homes and families. Quite a few saw the murder of Philip as a convenient excuse to cancel the Persian campaign and return to their farms. All the men knew that Alexander would soon be challenged by the Greeks to the south and barbarians to the north, meaning months if not years of fighting if they gave him their loyalty. But in this crucial moment Alexander rose to the occasion. His years of rhetorical study under the best Greek masters and his almost supernatural ability to inspire men shone forth as he wept with them over the death of their matchless general, his beloved father. He called on them to put fear aside and remember who they were—the greatest army the world had ever seen. Nothing was impossible for them. If they would but follow him he would lead them to riches and glory beyond their dreams. It must have been an incredible speech. These hardened veterans who longed for nothing more than home and hearth cheered their young king with all their hearts and promised to follow him wherever he might lead. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Alexander also promised to repeal all taxes for Macedonians.
Now that he had the backing of the army, his next step was to win over or eliminate any potential rivals among the Macedonian nobility. Chief among these was Attalus, who along with Parmenion was still in Asia Minor preparing the way for the invasion of Persia. The two generals had crossed to Asia in the spring, just a few months before Philip’s murder, and had advanced with ten thousand troops along the coast as far as Ephesus before being driven back by Memnon, the Persian general who had once been a refugee in the Macedonian court. When they heard the news of Philip’s death, the two old warriors realized that young Alexander could not hope to hold the throne without their support. Attalus, who had recently married Parmenion’s daughter, held the loyalty of many Macedonian noble families, second only to Parmenion. Though Parmenion was cautious, Attalus immediately began making plans to overthrow Alexander. He even contacted Demosthenes and his party at Athens to gauge their loyalty to the new king and was not surprised to find they were eager to throw off the Macedonian yoke.
But Alexander was no novice at politics. Having been raised in the rough and tumble world of the Macedonian palace, he knew how to forge unexpected alliances and quietly do away with his enemies. Alexander realized that he needed the support and experience of most of Philip’s old generals if he was to rule his father’s empire and move against Persia. It was simply a matter of discerning who was willing to betray whom and at what price. Since Attalus had publicly insulted Alexander just a few months before at Philip’s wedding banquet and as he was the uncle of the bride who had replaced his mother and forced him into exile, there was never any question about which general’s head would be on the chopping block. Alexander sent his loyal friend Hecataeus to the Macedonian camp across the Aegean with orders to reach an understanding with Parmenion and see that Attalus never returned home.
Parmenion, never anyone’s fool, realized that advancement for himself and his extensive family lay with supporting Alexander. If that meant Attalus would have to be sacrificed, a son-in-law could always be replaced. Soon Attalus was dead, but the price Parmenion had extracted was high. In return for his backing, he would be second only to Alexander himself in the upcoming campaign against Persia. Moreover, his kinsmen would fill almost every key post in Al
exander’s army. It was a bitter pill to swallow for a young man who yearned to purge the Macedonian forces of his father’s old cronies. He desperately wanted to come out from under the shadow of Philip and be his own man. But Alexander was a realist and recognized that, at least for now, he needed Parmenion.
Alexander did not forget his boyhood friends who had been exiled by Philip after the Pixodarus affair. He sent for Ptolemy, Nearchus, Harpalus, and Erigyius to join him as he faced the struggles ahead. He knew he would need them in the days and years to come. And with one glaring exception, they would serve him loyally in his war against Persia.
Alexander’s next task was to subdue the rising rebellion among the Greek cities. Although they had sworn to support Philip and his heirs, the Greeks jumped at the chance to regain their independence. Macedonian garrisons were driven away, alliances forged, and secret messages sent to the Persians seeking gold to fund the uprising. No one was willing to recognize Alexander as the leader of the Hellenic league his father had founded. The Thessalians and Thebans turned on Alexander, the Spartans saw their chance to regain hegemony in southern Greece, and the Athenians, led by Demosthenes, declared a day of public thanksgiving and awarded a posthumous crown to Philip’s assassin. Demosthenes even stopped mourning for his beloved daughter who had died just a few days earlier. He wasted no time in portraying Alexander to the assembly as a young fool playing the king on his father’s throne.
With affairs still unsettled in Macedonia, most new leaders would have stayed home and consolidated their hold on their native land instead of striking out against powerful enemies beyond their borders. But Alexander was not a typical king. He immediately left Pella with his army and headed south toward Thessaly. The Thessalian rebels had blocked the only road through the Vale of Tempe just south of Mount Olympus and forced the Macedonians to a halt. Instead of a suicidal charge against this well-protected position, Alexander set his engineer corps to work building a winding path on the far side of Mount Ossa overlooking the sea. Before the Thessalians knew what was happening, Alexander and his troops had outflanked them. With Macedonian swords at their throats, the towns of Thessaly swiftly recognized Alexander as their leader in his father’s place. They also agreed to pay taxes to the king and, most important, to join their superb cavalry to his army as auxiliaries.
Before the ink was dry on the treaty with Thessaly, Alexander was moving south to Thermopylae, where he convened the Amphictyonic Council and accepted the loyalty of the cities of central Greece. Thebes was next, surrounded by walls that had repelled invaders for centuries. The Thebans had chafed under Philip’s rule and more than any other Greek city had both the will and the manpower to stop his impudent son from taking on his father’s mantle. The men of the town had been preparing for the battle they knew lay months ahead after Alexander had secured his position to the north—but they were shocked a few days later when they awoke to find thousands of Macedonian troops in full battle gear surrounding their town. The Thebans now realized this boy king was no pampered prince but an ambitious warlord and clever strategist who marched his troops faster and harder than anyone had believed possible. Alexander stared at them from across his lines and the Thebans blinked. They knew they were not ready—at least not yet—to stand up to the Macedonians and so they surrendered and accepted Alexander as their sovereign. The Macedonian garrison was restored to the fortress on the edge of town, while Alexander continued his march south.
When a horseman rode into Attica the next day proclaiming the submission of Thebes, the Athenians fell into a panic. Citizens in the countryside rushed into town seeking protection away from their isolated farms. No one had expected a Macedonian assault so soon and therefore the Athenians had neglected to repair the city walls. As the men tried to shore up the ramparts, they dispatched an embassy to Alexander to buy time. Among the envoys was a sheepish Demosthenes, who had every reason to believe the young king would not think well of his recent harsh words or his secret dealings with the Persian king. He was in such a panic that he turned back at the outskirts of Athens and went home to hide. But, like his father, Alexander wanted the Athenian navy intact for his invasion of Persia more than he wanted to see the Acropolis in flames. He therefore received the envoys kindly and assured them the Athenians had nothing to fear.
Athens breathed a sigh of relief when Alexander and his army bypassed their city and instead headed south across the isthmus to the Peloponnesian peninsula. There Alexander summoned the League of Corinth to meet with him under the watchful eye of the Macedonian army. The nervous delegates quickly affirmed him as leader for life of all the Greeks. Next, in a colorful ploy worthy of the Athenian stage, Alexander brought before the delegates a messenger claiming to be from the Greek city of Ephesus on the western coast of Asia Minor. This impassioned actor pleaded with the representatives of free Greece to liberate his beleaguered city from the rule of the tyrannical Persian king. On cue, the league members rose in applause and vowed to help their oppressed countrymen across the sea. They then appointed Alexander as general plenipotentiary in command of the renewed Panhellenic expedition against Persia.
Alexander immediately presented the delegates a complete list of men, money, and supplies they were to contribute to the upcoming campaign. The Athenians were obligated to make their fleet available to Alexander along with sailors and provisions. Other cities were required to provide soldiers and goods as the king saw fit. Conspicuous in their absence were the Spartans, who as usual had stayed home and refused to participate in the war. But Alexander, with a sufferance he would later regret, contented himself with appointing pro-Macedonian regimes in the cities around Sparta’s mountainous borders. Like his father, he found the stubborn Spartans useful as proof of the voluntary nature of his alliance. If they caused trouble, he believed he could easily deal with them.
With the formalities of the meeting complete, statesmen and scholars crowded around Alexander competing with one another to offer their congratulations to the young king. He accepted their enthusiastic if insincere praise with the good grace of a born politician, but he searched the crowd in vain for the one man he had most hoped to meet. This was Diogenes the Cynic, a philosopher in exile from the Greek colony of Sinope on the shores of the Black Sea. He had been banished from his home for defacing currency and had spent most of his life abroad in Athens and Corinth. Diogenes believed in living out his philosophical beliefs, usually to the amusement and disgust of others. He and his scruffy band of followers held that life should be conducted in accordance with nature to the point of performing bodily functions in public like dogs (hence the term cynic, from the Greek word for dog). His asceticism was sincere, however, and he actively worked to entice others to reject the conventions of society. At the time, he was living in a large jar on the outskirts of Corinth. Alexander went looking for him and found him there enjoying the beautiful day wearing only a loincloth. The king stood by waiting for recognition, but the philosopher only gazed at him with mild contempt. Alexander, in some discomfort, at last asked if there was anything he could do for him. Diogenes replied that yes, indeed, he could move out of the way since he was blocking the sun. Alexander’s friends mocked the old philosopher as a fool and madman, but the young king wistfully responded: “If I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.”
On the way home, Alexander made a detour through the mountains of central Greece to the sacred site of Delphi beneath Mount Parnassus. Like so many kings before him, he wished to consult the oracle regarding his upcoming military campaign. Unfortunately, he was informed that the priestess who spoke for Apollo was in seclusion and as a matter of religious principle was not available that day, even for the ruler of all Greece. Alexander promptly marched into her lodgings and began dragging her forcibly into the shrine. This grossly sacrilegious act had its intended effect, however, when the priestess cried out: “You are invincible!” This was all Alexander wanted to hear. He donated a modest amount for the upkeep of the temple, then gathered his troop
s and marched north to Macedonia.
There was no time for Alexander to rest when he reached Pella. It was already late spring and the barbarians on his borders were raiding deep into Macedonian territory. The Greeks to the south were subdued for the moment, but the tribes to the north of his homeland threatened to destroy his kingdom as well as his dreams of a Persian invasion. If he did not establish control over the Balkans he could never hope to cross into Asia. He would have to teach the rebellious tribes a singular lesson. His father Philip had fought many skirmishes to the north, but Alexander planned a full-scale invasion of the lands along the Danube River.
The young king undertook such a bold campaign for two reasons. First and foremost, his borders had to be secured before he could move against Persia. He had no idea how long the fighting in the east might last—years, perhaps—and he would not be able to return to Macedonia before he was finished. Alexander had to make such an impression on the Balkan tribes that they would not trouble his kingdom even if he was far away. The second reason for the northern campaign was that it would be excellent training for the Persian war. He and his army would climb mountains, cross rivers, face unknown perils, and overcome all manner of fearsome enemies together. His men would learn that they could trust him with their lives.
Alexander and his troops left Amphipolis and marched east into Thrace along the Aegean coast. He crossed the river Nestos just west of the Greek city of Abdera, once home to the philosopher Democritus, who had first proposed that all matter was composed of indestructible particles called atoms. Alexander knew his theories well, but there was no time to visit the city as he turned his army north into the high mountains and made his way through alpine valleys to the garrison town of Philippopolis at the head of the Hebros River valley. His father had established the outpost several years earlier as a frontier post to defend the northern approaches to his kingdom. It was inhabited by two thousand Greek, Macedonian, and Thracian settlers who were as rough and wild as the land around them. Visitors had given it the nickname Poneropolis (“Crook Town”) and counted themselves lucky to escape with their lives.
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