In Search of the Lost Testament of Alexander the Great

by David Grant

  Assuming we are dealing with the cluster of Philip II, and if we are prepared to accept that the previously analysed Tomb I adult bones belong to the original occupants, even if irreverently scattered about the tomb (Plutarch described the despoliation at Aegae ca. 274 BCE with ‘the treasure they plundered, the bones they insolently cast to the winds’),36 and, additionally, noting their estimated ages at death – a male in his mid-thirties to early or mid-forties (analyses conflict), and a woman ca. twenty – what conclusions might we reach?

  Firstly, we can probably rule out Philip II’s elder brothers, King Alexander II (assassinated in his late teens) and King Perdiccas III too, if we conclude that his body was unlikely to have been retrieved from the bloody battle against the Illyrians where 4,000 Macedonians were reportedly slain. We can also rule out Philips II’s father, King Amyntas III, who would likely have been approaching fifty when he died after a reign of twenty-four years. The inhumation rather than cremation of the bodies rules out Philip II too, if Justin’s reference to cremation is accurate. With Alexander buried in Egypt (and as Roxane was far more mature than twenty when she was executed), the remaining candidates from that branch of the Argead line for the adult remains of Tomb I are Philip III and Queen Eurydice, though questions still hang over the infant and foetal remains.

  But how can we explain the (original) double burials in Tombs I and II?37

  THE CONUNDRUM OF THE TOMB II FEMALE

  Scholars dissecting the latest reports from Vergina may not have been surprised when they learned that the revised age of the Tomb II female (thirty to thirty-four) rules out Philip’s last wife, Cleopatra, the niece of Attalus, as sources tell us Olympias either forced her to hang herself, or she dragged Cleopatra across a brazier with her new-born baby in her arms. Attalus, her influential uncle, was soon executed on Alexander’s orders, and Justin (quite credibly) claimed that his whole family was killed.38 Murdered perhaps a year after Philip’s death, Cleopatra’s mistreated body was most likely ‘insolently cast to the winds’ too and her bones would never have seen a tomb.

  Hammond first argued in detail that the remains of the Tomb II female may be those of a more obscure wife of Philip II: either Meda his Getic (Thracian) wife, or a daughter of King Ataias of the Thrace-bordering Scythians who once offered to appoint Philip as his successor through adoption. The obvious link to the latter is the Scythian gold gorytos (quiver) and the remains of seventy-four arrows (though no evidence of a bow) that were found in the antechamber. Moreover, an image of a Scythian gorytos did appear on King Ataias’ coins.

  Prof. Antikas upholds the latter identification and his report further revealed that the tailor-made greaves, one shorter than the other, belonged to the female, for she had experienced a major fracture to her left tibia.39 This is suggestive that the other weapons belonged to the horse-riding ‘warrior woman’ as well. The relationship between Ataias and Philip broke down, but it is argued that his daughter, given freely or captured (some 20,000 prisoners were allegedly brought to Macedonia following Ataias’ defeat), would have then become Philip’s concubine (pallakis) or possibly his seventh wife of what would then be an eventual eight. In the tradition of the Scythian tribes (and some Thracians and Getae too), she could have taken her own life upon her husband’s death.40

  This is a viable explanation, and yet the Scythian identity still relies on a marriage, or liaison, never mentioned by our sources and in Satyrus’ fulsome rundown of Philip’s wives, in particular.41 And though Ataias once planned to ‘adopt’ Philip to secure an alliance, we read that he later retracted the offer.42 Moreover, proffering a daughter in marriage would have been the more obvious and the higher profile route. Apart from failing to mention a union with a Scythian, there is no mention of Philip being interred in his tomb with anyone at his death. As the care with which Alexander attended to his father’s funeral is detailed, as well as the executions above the tomb (with the accused assassins even named, though Justin and Diodorus disagree on the events order), we would expect to see some reference to the woman being cremated beside the king.43

  Justin claimed that no gold or silver was captured in Philip’s victory over Ataias,44 in which case the Scythian artefacts found in the antechamber of Tomb II could have been trophies of war or gifts of alliance from a number of campaigns; Cyrus the Great was entombed with two Scythian bows at Pasargadae and various Scythian envoys had met with Alexander as he campaigned in the depths of Asia when similar gifts were likely received.45 But not all of the items from the antechamber are Scythian; apart from the ceremonial gorytos and presumably the arrows, we have greaves, a linothorax and pectoral, and these are more symbolic of a Hellenic-outfitted warrior.

  Unless we are prepared to accept that a (never-mentioned) surviving wife of Philip II in her thirties was ceremonially killed or committed suicide at his death, the age of the Tomb II female (broadly) matches only one remaining relative who we know was buried at Aegae: Philip’s daughter, Cynnane, given funeral rites by Cassander after he had dealt with Olympias.46 Cynnane’s attested warrior upbringing would explain the presence of iconic warrior weapons and panoply. Her exact birthdate is uncertain, but she was born of an Illyrian mother, Audata, sometime following Philip’s victory over King Bardylis ca. 358 BCE, after which a ‘noteworthy’ truce had been concluded. So Cynnane was potentially born ca. 357/356 BCE.47

  From Polyaenus we additionally know that by ca. 344/343 BCE she was old enough to accompany Philip on another Illyrian campaign in which she reportedly killed their queen, Caeria.48 Remarkably, that dating indicates Cynnane was still in her early or mid-teens when she did that, though the ‘slaying’ referred to may well have been court propaganda, or a show execution as part of an Illyrian tribal vendetta, perhaps on behalf of her mother. But we should also bear in mind that her daughter, Adea, was able to cause ferment at Triparadeisus at the ‘marriageable’ age of just fifteen (or perhaps even fourteen, ‘high’ or ‘low’ chronologies depending).

  Adhering to these dates, Cynnane would have been in her mid-thirties when she was killed by Perdiccas’ brother, Alcetas, in the vicinity of Ephesus in 322/321 BCE.49 And though we may assume she crossed to Asia with few of her possessions about her, as the daughter of Philip II she must have owned precious chattels that were retained in her royal quarters at Pella, and these would have surely been buried with her, some of which potentially came from her mother, Queen Audata, Philip’s Illyrian wife.

  To reason that Cynnane’s remains could credibly be those of the female in Tomb II requires that her body was handled reverently by Alketas’ men and immediately cremated, probably on the insistence of her headstrong daughter who would, as events showed, have been supported by Alcetas’ indignant troops; Cynnane’s bones were most likely returned to Macedonia with Adea (by now Queen Eurydice) and Philip III in the entourage of Antipater. Such posthumous respect certainly appears plausible when we consider that the corpses of Craterus and Eumenes were similarly dealt with and returned to their relatives.50 Alcetas and his men were on the move (they ‘intercepted’ Cynnane on her way to meet the royal army), so an immediate flesh-boned cremation, rather than inhumation followed by the later retrieval of dry bones, is a sound conclusion. The 2014 report by Antikas’ team did note that the female bones from Tomb II had been subjected to different funeral pyre conditions and with less care taken in their collection when compared to those of the male.51

  As Cynnane and Adea had crossed to Asia against Antipater’s wish, and as Adea had caused such trouble for him at Triparadeisus, almost resulting in his death, and, further, as the pro-Olympias Polyperchon had assumed the Macedonian regency in Pella following Antipater’s death in autumn 319 BCE (which brought with it the prospect of Olympias returning to Pella at any time), Adea, now titled Queen Eurydice, may well have been unable to immediately entomb her mother’s remains at Aegae in any meaningful way. So how could Cynnane’s remains have ended up in the same tomb as her father?

  Texts confirm that soon a
fter Cassander gained control of Macedonia, either in late 317 or in 316 BCE, and as part of his highly choreographed show of posthumous reverence to the offspring of Philip II (excluding the immediate line of Alexander III), he exhumed and reburied the bodies of Philip III and Eurydice after funeral games had been held; commentators believe this was between six and seventeen months after Olympias ordered their deaths. Cassander also interred the remains of Cynnane, but nowhere is it specifically stated that mother and daughter were buried together, either physically or temporally, though some scholars have assumed just that.

  Never the wife of an enthroned king herself (unlike her daughter), Cynnane would not have merited a tomb in the cluster of the queens.52 But the gold diadem found in the antechamber of Tomb II suggests basileia. If not passed to Cynnane by Audata (or by Alexander when he pledged her in marriage to the Agrianian king, Langarus), then the finely crafted diadem would have subtly and usefully symbolised that Philip had, in fact, usurped the right to the throne from his nephew, Amytas Perdicca, Cynnane’s first husband, to whom many were inclining (in place of Alexander) at Philip’s death.53

  If we accept (as texts imply) that Philip II was not buried with a wife, Cassander would have had good reason to seek approbation from the veteran supporters of the still-revered Argead king (Cassander’s ultimate aim) by interring Cynnane with her father in the unoccupied large antechamber of Tomb II. Moreover, by doing so he had everything to gain from reminding Macedonia of the brutality of Olympias who murdered Philip II’s son as well as his granddaughter, and his last wife with her child. That, in turn, would have underscored Olympias’ recent wider pogrom against Cassander’s own family, all of which was aimed at justifying his orchestrating her recent execution at Pydna (though ostensibly it was Assembly sanctioned).54 And perhaps in retaliation to the regicidal allegations that we argue were lodged against him by Olympias and Eumenes through the Pamphlet, Cassander simultaneously resuscitated rumours that Olympias and Alexander were complicit in Philip’s assassination.

  The site of Philip II’s tomb was most likely chosen well in advance of his death; his two full-brothers had untimely deaths and it may have become a normal practice to have at least a basic funerary structure in place, and significantly more constructed in the case of Philip’s extensive twenty-three-year reign.55 With this in mind, it is perhaps noteworthy that the main chamber of Tomb II was originally sealed unfinished with internal walls left un-plastered, and with the preparation of the antechamber appearing delayed; the external hunting scene appears partly painted al fresco (on wet plaster) and partly not. Additionally, the brick structure built above the vaulted roof of the main chamber (to house a pyre and stage executions) was similarly placed on wet plaster.

  These clues suggest that whoever was overseeing the original funeral rites, the executions, and the sealing of the tomb, was more concerned with rapidly moving on than paying extended reverence to the occupant within.56 That observation could certainly fit the behaviour of Olympias and Alexander at Philip’s death in 336 BCE (whether they were complicit in Philip’s murder, and/or, beset as they were by immediate threats) and the agenda of Cassander some twenty years on; the façade above the entrance and the remarkable frontage of ‘illusionist’ Doric columns, would have nevertheless fulfilled Cassander’s aim of a very public spectacle, assuming it remained uncovered by a tumulus for a time.57

  It would have taken no great effort by Cassander to unseal the marble door that formed the entrance to the antechamber which was three-quarters as large as the main chamber itself, if the tomb was still tumulus-free.58 And though Justin stated Philip’s assassins were killed on the orders of Alexander ad tumulum patris, what appear to be the remains of the Homeric-styled ceremonial execution of Philip’s assassins were found directly on the roof of the vault, and not in the remains of the tumulus debris covering it.59 Even if there existed an easily-penetrated small mound that ended abruptly to accommodate further tombs (as Plato’s Laws recommended), the opening of the tomb as a public gesture is far from implausible. In fact, any scholar who initially concluded that the female in the antechamber was Philip’s last wife, Cleopatra, must have accepted the same (a delayed tumulus), for she was not killed immediately upon his death, for Alexander was away campaigning when he heard she had been murdered by Olympias.

  Cassander could have taken an equally (financially) pragmatic approach to the burial of Philip III and Queen Eurydice as he did for her mother, in this case their interment together in the one simpler cist tomb. Eurydice had sported ceremonial weaponry when she emblematically paraded herself in full battle armour when facing the army of Olympias in 317 BCE, and it is alluring to picture it stacked in Tomb I before it was plundered.60 In this scenario it remains possible that any weapons buried there (and not impossibly those in the antechamber of Tomb II, if the female remains are those of Cynnane) were trophies of Alexander’s campaigns: the weapons, armour and regalia could have made their way back to Macedonia with Antipater, with the kings in tow.61 It is noteworthy that Nicomachus of Thebes, the artist who is suspected of painting the scene adorning the northern wall inside Tomb I, was known for his rapidity and economy with oil and colour which produced an ‘al fresco’ technique and ‘restrained palette’.62 Could he have painted the Tomb II hunting scene as well?

  In these interpretations, Tomb II (though perhaps not its painted façade) pre-dates the simpler structure of Tomb I, which was nevertheless exquisitely painted inside with the images of the Abduction of Persephone, a theme depicted so prominently in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (with origins in the 7th century);63 the simplicity of the later structure (though counterintuitive to a ‘progression’ of style and architectural sophistication) was, then, decided by Cassander’s financial position and his immediate political needs. That is, if Tomb I had not been sitting empty for many years because its intended occupant died elsewhere. Close by Tomb I is the also looted heroon built from the same porous ashlar blocks (Plato recommended porous stone for tombs); with foundations measuring some 31.5 x 26.25 feet, the shrine does point to the established worship of the cluster.64

  But for all we know, and if Justin is to be believed, this may have been Olympias’ cynical offering to Philip’s assassin, Pausanias: ‘… she burnt the body of the assassin, when it had been taken down, upon the remains of her husband, and made him a tomb in the same place; she also provided that yearly sacrifices should be performed to his manes…’ (author’s italics).65

  Finally, after Cassander had achieved his publicity goals, and to mark the end of an era that would herald in his own dynasty through Philip’s other daughter, Thessalonice (whose tomb may also reside in the cluster of the queens), Cassander could have symbolically raised the first 65.6-foot-in-diameter tumulus that we know originally covered Tombs I and II (and possibly the heroon), with Tomb II broadly at its centre.66 The line of Philip II and Alexander III was proverbially buried for good, so Cassander may have initially thought, until Polyperchon reintroduced Heracles, Alexander’s son by Barsine.

  The extraction of DNA from the bones could establish genetic links between the occupants of the tombs, and cremated bones do provide a sterile and favourable environment for DNA survival. Prof. Antikas’ anthropological research team in collaboration with the National Centre for Scientific Research ‘Demokritos’ applied to the Greek Ministry of Culture for a permit to run DNA, C14 and standard isotope tests on bones from tombs I, II and III of the Great Tumulus and from the cremains in the Agora in 2014. The ministry has now issued a permit to run a pilot study on the bones from Tomb I and the Agora ahead of any similar analyses of the bones from tombs II and III.67 But, in a wholly appropriate impasse for a decades-old debate, this would still not conclusively reveal who was who, as all those under scrutiny – Philip II, Philip III, Eurydice, Cynnane and Alexander IV – were genetically related. The results could, nonetheless, justify the site being referred to as the ‘cluster of Philip II’.

  THE GREAT GUARDIAN OF THE TOMBS
r />   It is widely held that it was either Lysimachus, who briefly became king of Macedonia ca. 285 BCE (though he had influence there from 288 BCE when Pyrrhus was installed), or Antigonus II Gonatas, a decade or more later, who raised the Great Tumulus at Aegae. Either Gonatas or his father, Demetrius Poliorketes, could have built Tomb III for the teenage Alexander IV to highlight Cassander’s collateral damage, and to stake a new claim to post-Argead legitimacy.68 Moreover, Antigonus Monophthalmos had once (self-servingly) called for Cassander to release Alexander IV and his mother, Roxane, from captivity. Poliorketes’ reign was beset by instability and his financial focus was firmly on a reinvasion of Asia, and it was Gonatas who was most concerned with appearing the legitimate Macedonian royal heir.69 It has been proposed that a further tomb (‘Tomb IV’) discovered in 1980 may well house his remains.70

  The case for the raising of the Great Tumulus over the tombs before any looting took place has advantages over claims that the lesser tumuli were covered by it after the Gallic looting ca. 274 BCE, for that raises the question of why were Tombs II and III, similarly rich in regalia, not opened and raped of possessions like other burial sites at Aegae. Individual tumuli do not hide a tomb’s presence; in fact they broadcast it, even if hindering immediate access.

  Knowing of the destruction the Gauls had already wrought in Greece through 279/278 BCE which may have included the pillaging of Delphi, Gonatas could more credibly have raised the Great Tumulus following his victory over the remnants of the once 85,000-strong invading Gallic army in 277 BCE.71 Because the rich tomb cluster that the looters under Pyrrhus were targeting (clearly guided by ‘insider knowledge’) some three years later (274 BCE) lay at the outer rim of the recently thrown-up great mound, a horizontal shaft would have been sufficient to intercept the prize. The heroon, closest to its perimeter, was located and looted first, and then Tomb I, whose own riches may have convinced the Gauls that they had found the prize they sought. In which case the reddish-brown sediment covering the bones inside Tomb I was a result of the infill from that probing horizontal shaft.72