Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon

by Peter Messmore

  Eurylochos, still brooding from the king's rebuke, listened carefully to Philip's account.

  Parmenio had returned to his usual calm.

  Antipater broke the silence and responded to Philip's strategic musings. "Subduing Halus will not take long or cost us much in resources. Our agents in central and southern Greece should try to undermine the Athenian convocation invitation. If no one responds to their call, they'll have no other choice but to begin peace negotiations."

  Philip looked at Antipater with the penetrating gaze of his single eye. Either he knew specifically of Attalus' Euboean mission or he had other information sources available to him. Was it possible that Antipater was running an intelligence operation on his own, apart from Attalus' network?

  The king showed no reaction to this alarming possibility, deciding to bide his time. Only after he talked to Attalus would he confront Antipater. "Parmenio, take a small force south and begin the siege of Halus. Eurylochos, you're to accompany him. Use your energy to subdue the city, not attack my senior commander. When the games end, I'll return to Pella. I'm to be kept in daily communication with events in Halus. The future is precarious. There will be no impetuous miscalculations or foolhardy actions not approved by me. Maybe we can out-negotiate the Athenians, making peace with us their only alternative. Despite all they've done to Macedon over the centuries, they're still the leader of Hellas. Someday, we'll surpass them. But for now, I want Athens as a peaceful ally. We'll fight them only as a last resort. Leave me now. I must receive the game's victors. Each of them will get a gold medallion with my image on it. When next these games are held, I'll have added the title Greek Hegemon to the medallions."

  Months passed, and the Athenian request for a central and southern Greek states convocation was ignored. Either the other states doubted Athenian willingness to confront Philip or, as Demosthenes charged nearly daily in the assembly, Philip had managed to bribe important leaders in each invited poleis. Finally, the passage of time, the Macedonian encirclement of Halus, and pressure to do something about the Phocian seizure of the holy Delphic Temple brought the situation to a climax in the Athenian assembly.

  Philocrates, a leading assembly member of the peace party, made a motion to form a delegation of ten assembly members who would travel to Pella and begin negotiations with the king of Macedon. After much acrimonious argument, the assembly passed Philocrates' motion. Word was sent to Philip that the delegation would leave for Pella by the land and sea route through Euboea in two days.

  It took a week for the Athenians to reach the Macedonian capital. Parmenio, who temporarily left the siege of Halus to deliver the distinguished delegation, gave them a safe escort. Philip, long ago informed by his Athenian agents of the assembly's vote, received the delegation with cordial hospitality. After a brief ceremonial session, held in the king's royal throne room, each guest was given private accommodations in the royal palace.

  A sumptuous banquet was prepared the night after the Athenians’ arrival. Seated with the king in the royal banquet hall at one of two head tables were Olympias, Prince Alexander, and Parmenio. Leaders of the Athenian delegation sat at the other head table, observing uneasily their one-eyed adversary. At the Athenian table were Nausicles, Aeschines, Eubulus and the youngest Athenian delegate, Demosthenes.

  After ample quantities of food and drink were served to the diners, it was Prince Alexander who rose to show the Athenians what Macedonian culture could produce. Now nearly ten years old, the boy walked to the space between the two tables, waited for the dining banter to subside and then began to play the lyre. He played three Macedonian folk tunes, causing the several hundred guests to marvel at his virtuosity.

  Even Demosthenes, who considered the banquet nothing more than a crude gathering of barbarians, was captivated by the loveliness of the boy's musical adroitness.

  Alexander wasn't done. He stopped playing and then recited lines from Homer's Iliad. He concluded his performance by reciting a poem of his own composition, Macedonia’s Flowers.

  "Macedonia’s Flowers

  Our flowers, they glow,

  Our flowers, they shine.

  Painting our land

  since oldest of times.

  Delicate they are, yet strength is inside,

  growing in rocks, waiting their time.

  For flowers reduce mountains, in their own tiny way.

  As I will too, when I have my day."

  Much too theatrically, the prince bowed and raised his arms in a self-congratulatory salute. The banquet hall was silent as Philip's son reassumed his position on his dining couch.

  Philip, although proud of his son's obvious musical and poetic talents, could only furrow his brow and shake his wine-befuddled head. Leaning close to Olympias, he whispered: "When we need to show Macedon's power and strength, my son mimics an actor. What have you done with the fearless child that used to frolic recklessly with me during our romps through Pella?"

  Olympias glared at her husband but remained silent. She had not rehearsed the boy. But it pleased her to allow Philip to believe that she had. Impassively, she gazed straight ahead then beckoned a slave to bring her more wine.

  Philip heard her talking to herself, but the only words he could understand were: "… the wrath of Zeus-Ammon."

  The effect that Alexander’s music and poetry had on the Athenians was far more favorable than Philip could have imagined. Demosthenes was most concerned of the group. The first two days of his visit had only reinforced his condescending view of Macedonians as rank barbarians. Despite the emerging architectural beauty of Pella, despite the grandeur of Philip's palace and court, the Macedonians that he had met had only strengthened his superior Athenian mien. However here was the seed of Philip, his eventual successor. The prince would inherit the king's powerful and efficient army. Even at ten, Alexander could engage in adult-like verbal exchange with the Athenian delegates. The boy boded ill for Athens. Alexander's performance only intensified Demosthenes' resolve to destroy Philip in any way he could. If the son were ever allowed to come of age, Athens would never regain its past glory.

  At last, Philocrates rose from his couch and spoke what he thought was the common reaction of the Athenian delegates. "Philip and Olympias, what a inestimable prodigy you have produced. We marvel at his youthful beauty and artistic aptitudes. In your son you have given our two states the basis for future peace and mutual understanding. For through music, drama and poetry, Greeks can achieve a common purpose. After our recent differences, after the suspicion and charges that have been hurled by both sides, your son shows that we are of a single Greek heritage. When we begin formal negotiations tomorrow, let us remember your remarkable son and what he has taught us."

  Philip staggered vertical because of his drunkenness. He walked before the Athenians' table and with slurred speech, responded to Philocrates' remarks. "Every Macedonian is proud of Alexander, esteemed guests. He has a first-class mind, that will only become sharper with age. Yet he has much to learn from his father about the dangerous world we live in. Soon a sword will replace his lyre. Cavalry commands will replace Homer's ancient words. Peace negotiations after military conquests will supplant a child's simple poetry. As we hear your propsls ... your proposals tomorrow, let everyone remember these things. For a king is more than an actor. A king must enforce words with deeds. A wise king does both. That's what I want from our talks." Philip paused, both to regain a semblance of sobriety and to let his words sink in. “Enough of this banter, let the drinking resume. I don't trust any man in negotiations unless he has drunk at least half what I have the previous night."

  Most everyone in the banquet hall erupted in laughter. But not Demosthenes. Athenians had the good sense to cut wine at a ratio of two parts wine to three parts water. Philip's reckless consumption of the mind-altering Macedonian drink would only give Demosthenes an advantage in the coming negotiations.

  Palace slaves brought in more wine and served the potent drink to guests who had already ha
d too much.

  As the evening passed, the members of the Athenian delegation slowly excused themselves and retired to their rooms. Philip remained in the hall long after most of his guests had either left or passed out on their tables.

  All the Athenians fell asleep except Demosthenes. He remained awake as long as the King. Instead of drinking, the orator spent the night rehearsing his lines for his presentation before Philip the next day. As the youngest delegate, he knew that he would speak last. This will not be a hindrance, he thought. He would overpower the barbarian conqueror with the force of his logic and the vigor of his presentation. At last, with growing anxiety, he fell asleep, knowing that his greatest speaking opportunity awaited him with the rising of the sun over muddy Lake Loudias.

  The Athenians previously agreed that only four of their ten members would make the initial peace presentation to the Macedonian monarch. Those four members arrived at King Philip's throne room long before the appointed time. At the previous night's banquet they had agreed that it was probably the only place in Philip's palace where they could be assured of private communication. They were incorrect in that assumption. Philip had two spies hidden inside the walls of each of their rooms. One Macedonian spy watched from a secreted eye-hole, cleverly buried in a wall mosaic of each guest room. The other held his ear against a funnel- shaped, sound-amplifying device. He could hear every word spoken in the Athenians' quarters.

  When the Athenians arrived, they were astonished to see Philip sitting resplendently on his throne awaiting them. His face appeared bright and alert, showing no evidence of his previous night's inebriation.

  Philocrates approached King Philip with surprised friendliness. "Your rumored capacity to consume drink and still function is obviously true, Philip.

  "All Macedonians can do that, Philocrates. It's a test of our mettle. We pass it nearly every night."

  Philocrates smiled and pointed a joking finger at the king before walking to the first of a series of four small benches that had been placed in a semicircle before the throne. As he sat, Demosthenes arrived at the throne room's massive doorway and was admitted into the chamber by the king's personal guards.

  Philip studied the youngest of the delegates as he walked into the room and beheld the Macedonian king awaiting him.

  The King of Macedon observed that, although he tried not to show it, Demosthenes nearly lost his composure when he saw his adversary, sitting cheerfully on his throne.

  Philip could not help himself as he roared an uncontrollable laugh; clearly aimed to demean and ridicule the surprised orator.

  "Your stamina is godlike, Philip," Demosthenes said as he tried to recover. "We understand how you are so successful on the battlefield just by seeing you here this morning."

  "I rose before sunrise, Demosthenes, and rode through Pella’s streets. It clears my mind for important negotiations. You should try it sometime."

  "I ride only for transportation, King Philip. Our backgrounds are different. I arrived at the position that I occupy through thought and rhetorical forcefulness. You should try those approaches. They will help temper your aggressive zeal."

  "Were it not for my aggressive zeal, Demosthenes, you and your fellow delegates would not be here beseeching us for peace. You must learn to bring reality to your lofty ideals. Even my poetry-loving son has learned that."

  Demosthenes ended what was becoming an escalating exchange. He left Philip's last remark unrebutted and took a seat on the bench that was farthest from Philocrates, the oldest member of the Athenian delegation.

  Philip saw a look of hatred in the young orator's eyes.

  The small group awaited the arrival of the remaining delegates.

  Demosthenes watched Parmenio and Attalus in huddled conversation. He knew much about the last man to enter the small group. Attalus, the brilliant intelligence chief so feared by Athenian leadership, was clearly a silent, menacing force behind Philip. Attalus would never speak to the Athenian delegation directly, for that was not the Macedonian way. Only the Macedonian king spoke during negotiations. Demosthenes knew that when Philip did present his peace terms, the small, dark-skinned man that stood before him, would have heavily influenced many of the king’s points.

  The Macedonian trio remained in whispered conversation around the throne as the king's guards escorted into the chamber the last arriving Athenians, Eubulus and Aeschines. Eubulus sat beside Philocrates. Aeschines took the remaining bench seat next to Demosthenes.

  Finally, the king's coterie parted and he rose to speak. "I've sent for my son, Athenian guests. He will not take part in these discussions, for he's still a boy. But I want him here, for these are historic times. I trust that no one objects."

  Eubulus rose and answered the king. "There is no objection, Philip. While we wait, I wish to inform you that we want to make four separate presentations regarding our peace proposals. We will speak in order of Athenian seniority, with Philocrates beginning. Do you wish for our side to begin, or would you rather start?"

  "I'm here to listen. You may begin. Proceed in any order you wish. I'll react after I've heard each of you. Let everyone understand that the issues we are about to discuss are imperative. Peace or war will result from our actions or inactions. We may not resolve matters with this first exchange; there may be a need for further discussions. I'm well aware that all agreements must be approved first by your boule and then by the Athenian assembly. That will take time, and we must all be patient with the events that we soon will set in motion."

  "It is gratifying to hear you speak of patience and forbearance, King Philip," Eubulus replied, "for we are a democracy and these qualities matter greatly to Athenians."

  The entrance of Prince Alexander interrupted the exchange. When the guards opened the throne room doors, the boy burst into the chamber at a dead run, stopping at the half circle of benches on which the Athenian delegates rested. Alexander, hands on his slim hips, looked at each man, then at his father.

  Philip scowled at the boy, then pointed threateningly at him. He ended the glare by index-finger-directing him toward a small bench, at the far side of the room. No words were necessary.

  The prince flipped his head up and to the right, then took his silently assigned seat.

  The session was underway.

  "Begin, Athenians" Philip said.

  Philocrates rose and began to speak. "King Philip, you are aware that I led efforts to establish this delegation. Only with considerable debate was my motion finally supported. Peace between our two nations can be our only reasonable course. Death and destruction for both Athens and Macedon await our failure."

  Philip watched and listened to the performance of his longest paid agent in the Athenian assembly. He must allow Philocrates' posturing and dull democratic charade, but it irked him. Hide your reaction. Let the political pretense proceed. Unresponsive silence is my best ally at this delicate beginning of what could become my greatest bloodless victory.

  Philocrates continued. He called for Athens and Macedon to maintain territorial status quo. He also asked King Philip to withdraw his besieging forces around the Thessalian seaport, Halus. He said nothing about concessions that Athens would make.

  Exactly what I thought they would propose. The arrogant bastards. Philip’s face remained impassive, as if it was carved from Thracian marble.

  Philocrates concluded his introductory remarks, then yielded to Eubulus, Athens’ minister of finance. While Eubulus walked before Philip, the king whispered something to Attalus. Then he nodded to Eubulus.

  Eubulus made two points. The first covered Athens’ insistence that she be allowed free and open access to the Propontus sea routes that ensured her regular grain shipments from the Pontus. “This sea route is our economic lifeblood. If Macedon opposes us on this demand, there can be no peace between us,” he stated gravely.

  Eubulus’ second point involved Phocis. He proposed that Athens and Macedon jointly resolve the squabble over the holy temple at Delphi. “We
will remove the leadership that has plundered the holy temple, then restore Delphi to its former independent status. Both Athens and Macedon will be the protectors of the holy temple forever more. Those are my points.”

  Philip’s three scribes had been busy recording the Athenian’s remarks. The king cleared his throat, becoming angrier at the growing Athenian demands. Then he leaned over from his high throne and asked the chief scribe if he was getting everything. Assured that he was, Philip displayed an open palm toward Aeschines, calling for him to speak next.

  Aeschines stood. He was a former teacher and actor in his younger years, but now he was clerk of the Athenian assembly. He walked silently before his seated colleagues and began to speak. He requested that Macedon return all captured Athenian prisoners without ransom. “In return for this, Athens promises not to challenge your gold and silver operations around Mount Pangaeus.” A long diatribe about Athens’s magnanimity on this issue followed. Then he brought up his second point. “We will not threaten your new city, Philippi. Athenians understand what it means for a monarch to name a city after himself.”

  Philip nearly interrupted Aeschines, but resisted the urge. Athens could never understand the ways of monarchs. It was a limitation of their so-called democracy. The king merely moved his head in a semicircle and said, “Finish Aeschines.”

  “Lastly, Athens expects that you will return Amphipolis to us. That was promised in secret negotiations before we declared war against each other. The word of the king of Macedon is at issue here.” Aeschines turned his back on Philip and sat down.

  Philip sneered. It was not a hidden reaction. The first and only concession the Athenians had proposed was Mount Pangaeus. When they finally concede something, it involves something they can do nothing about. We have Amphipolis and are not going to return it. It had cost too many Macedonian lives, including his own nearly mortal wound. Their arrogance knows no limits. He forced down rising bile in his throat and managed a long silence to punctuate his agitation. “Is that all, Aeschines?”