Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon

by Peter Messmore

  “It is for now. I yield to our youngest delegate, the eloquent Demosthenes.”

  Much of the morning had passed while Demosthenes waited his turn to speak. It had been previously agreed by the Athenians that Demosthenes was to present the Athenian position relating to the island of Euboea and a crucial mainland seaport deemed vital to Athens, the city of Oropus. Athens wanted complete control of both the island and Oropus. Demosthenes had prepared a rough draft of his presentation while still in Athens. He had rehearsed it repeatedly before the delegation had arrived in Pella. He had been the first to leave last night's banquet to hone it even more. All eyes were on him.

  Just before rising to speak, Demosthenes felt a suffocating pressure in his chest. It was a pressure that he had never felt before. Standing despite the pressure, he felt it increase to where he thought he would collapse.

  Philocrates leaned forward and looked expectantly at his young colleague, as did the other Athenians.

  King Philip lifted his hairy eyebrows quizzically, leaned forward, and began to stroke his black beard.

  Finally, Alexander broke the silence. From across the room, he declared robustly and sarcastically: "It's your turn, Demosthenes."

  Attalus and Parmenio could not help themselves and began to laugh.

  Philip at first glared at his son but then began to chuckle himself.

  Still, no words came from Demosthenes. Finally the flushed and perspiring orator began to speak. "The island of Eub ... , the island ... Oropus is also …" Try as he may, Demosthenes' words simply would not form sentences.

  Alexander giggled as he thrust both arms in the air. Attalus and Parmenio continued their laughter.

  Again, the stage-fright-stricken lawyer attempted to begin, only to have unintelligible syllables emerge from his parched throat.

  Philip decided to end the pompous Athenian's agony. "I'm aware of Athens' need for control of the island of Euboea, Demosthenes. Attalus has only recently returned from there. Oropus's importance to you is noted. If you wish, these two matters can be included in our negotiations."

  "Yes," is all that the humiliated Demosthenes could manage as he half sat, half collapsed onto the bench.

  Philip rose from his throne. He stopped Attalus and Parmenio from their continued laughing with a glance and then spoke to the Athenian delegates. He was struggling to bring solemnity back to the discussions. "I've heard your points. My scribes have recorded them. I want to consider each of them for the rest of today and tomorrow. We will meet again in this chamber the day after tomorrow. This will allow us all opportunity to confer and give Demosthenes a chance to recover his speech. You had your turn today. When we meet again, you'll hear from me. Retire to your quarters. Your needs will be met by my palace slaves. Ask for anything and it will be provided."

  Philip turned and left the throne room, shaking his head. Following were his two generals and haughty Alexander. The Prince looked back at the Athenians before exiting. His penetrating gape showed Macedonian condescension and self-importance.

  Thus ended the first session of what would eventually become a weeklong series of interactions between Athens and Macedon.

  All ten Athenian delegates attended the second session. Philocrates wanted everyone to hear Philip's reaction to their preliminary peace proposals. King Philip didn't need a day and a half to react to their terms; he could have done that the afternoon of the first day. He did need time to meet with three of the four Athenians who had spoken the first day. First had come Philocrates, his paid retainer for years. Philip secretly promised gold and land to the Athenian leader. In return, Philocrates promised to lend a sympathetic ear to Philip's counter proposals, when they were presented the next day.

  Philip held similar sessions with Eubulus and Aeschines. Each reacted the same way that Philocrates had. Eubulus deluded himself into thinking that his greed was for the greater cause of peace. Aeschines knew that Athens's only sane course of action was immediate peace with Macedon. He didn't see why he shouldn't enrich himself in the process.

  Both men were assured that no one else would ever know of their clandestine cooperation with Philip. On that point, they had been given the word of the King of Macedon.

  Philip didn't waste time approaching Demosthenes. The king’s agents had long ago informed him of Demosthenes' assembly speeches. The man's hatred of Philip, coupled with the testy exchange between the two at the beginning of the first session, showed the futility of attempting to bribe him. Besides, who wanted to bribe a man who couldn't even speak when it mattered?

  Philip's strategy, on the brink of succeeding, was to pit the three leaders whom he had managed to influence against the stammering one who had succumbed to anxiety. He hoped and believed that the six remaining delegation members would follow the lead of the three he had bribed.

  The negotiations were becoming a game that Philip was enjoying, as he rose to address the Athenians two days later in his throne room. "I've listened to each of your proposals. Many, but not all, were anticipated. Yesterday, I conferred with my diplomats and discussed the implications of your positions with my generals. I now give you my response to your demands. Before I do, I want it understood that Macedon seeks no direct military domination of Athens or her allies. We will soon become the preeminent power in Greece, if we're not already. I make no apologies about wanting the leadership of Hellas. The gods have willed that I'm to be that leader. My goal is not dominion over Athens, but alliance. For only through formal alliance, not just the signing of a treaty of peace, can we unite Greece and eventually meet Persia's threat. Ochus will pick us off one at a time if we continue our petty rivalries and wars. He just put down Egypt's rebellion; his greedy appetite will soon be directed westward."

  Every member of the Athenian delegation was surprised to hear that Ochus had managed to suppress the Egyptian rebellion so quickly. The Athenian assembly had assumed that at least a year more would be needed by the Great King to subdue Egypt—a year that they had counted on to reach accommodation with Philip. Privately, most agreed with Philip. These negotiations were imperative if Greece was ever going to stop a third Persian invasion.

  Philip continued. "Now for my response to your peace proposals. It's a good beginning for our forces and the forces of our allies to remain in control of the territory that they now occupy. There are two exceptions to this principle that I am adamant about, however. The first involves the traitorous actions of my former Thracian ally, Cersobleptes. When he came over to you and demanded that Athens again control Amphipolis, he became my enemy. His actions threaten my need to use Thrace as Macedon’s eastern buffer. My allies in Byzantium and Perinthus are even more threatened by his aggression. Aggression that’s supported by Athens. The forts you established in his territory are unacceptable; they'll not be allowed to stand."

  The king was almost shouting. His near-tirade caused each Athenian to squirm on his bench. Only Demosthenes smiled as he listened to Philip.

  Abruptly, Philip calmed himself. "This is not to say that we don't understand your need to keep open your vital grain and corn routes to the Pontus. We're willing to concede complete control of those routes. I give you my word that while these negotiations are continuing, Macedon will take no actions against your forts protecting those routes. If we can conclude a peace treaty and an alliance, I'll even have my engineers dig a channel across the neck of the Chersonese peninsula. Once your territory there is severed from the Thracian mainland, our land force can never threaten your grain supply."

  This was a major concession and its impact was not lost on the Athenians. Philip had been inclined to grant it even before he talked to the three delegates that he had bribed yesterday. Each of them had made Athenian sovereignty over the Chersonese an uncompromising condition of cooperating with him. It was an easy one for Philip to give. He wasn't now, nor would he be in the future, able to defend the peninsula against Athens's still formidable navy.

  There was whispered reaction to the king's last poi
nt. The Athenians then resumed listening to Philip's remaining points.

  Philip summarized his remaining reactions to the Athenians’ proposals hurriedly. He agreed to cooperate with Athens on the resolution of the Delphic Temple controversy, but not by formal treaty. He agreed that, upon formal treaty signing, he would return all Athenian prisoners without ransom. Then Philip took a parting shot at Demosthenes. "Finally, although he was unable to elocute," the king said with a cruel smile, "Demosthenes' garbled points are understood by Macedon. If you meet our demands on the other points of disagreement, then we agree that complete control of Euboea and Oropus will be granted to Athens.”

  "These are Macedon's reactions to your proposals of two days ago. I suggest that we divide into smaller working groups, where each of you will meet with my diplomats and generals. Neither a king nor his son is needed while this haggling goes on. I'll allow three days for it. Then I'm leaving Pella. If you wish, I'll meet with you before you return to Athens. Three of my representatives will travel to Athens with you, in the event that the assembly supports our tentative agreements. They'll be empowered to swear to the treaty terms. If you return to Pella after that, I'll also swear to the terms. We will then have ourselves a treaty and an alliance—even a kind of peace."

  The king motioned to Alexander, and father and son left the throne room.

  A stunned group of Athenians rose from their benches and gathered in groups to protest with each other Philip's abrupt departure. They allowed themselves to be taken to rooms outside the chamber, complying with Philip's entreaty for small group negotiations. It took three days of rancorous discussion, during which two of the negotiators nearly came to physical blows, but a tentative draft of peace terms and eventual alliance between Athens and Macedon emerged.

  On the fourth day, the negotiators gathered in the king's throne room to present him the initial draft of peace terms. Agreement was reached on only two-thirds of the points, but all agreed that it had been a good beginning. Philocrates, speaking for the Athenians, finally addressed the king of Macedon.

  "King Philip, a start has been achieved here. But it is only a start. Because of our democratic traditions, we must now leave and seek counsel and approval from our assembly. When we return, there will be more discussions, but I'm pleased that a positive process has been set in motion."

  Philip, dressed in his full military uniform, stood up from his throne and responded to the Athenian leader. "It has been a good start, Philocrates. Return to your city and convince your assembly that these terms are in the best interest of both of our governments. I'll meet with you when we both return to Pella."

  Philip left the chamber accompanied by Parmenio and Antipater.

  As the Athenians walked slowly out of the throne room to prepare for their trip home, some of them wondered why Philip had left so abruptly, dressed as he was. Philocrates, Eubulus and Demosthenes knew the reason. Before the sun set that day, the king would ride into darkness and join his massive army. An army that would soon meet Cersobleptes, Athens's endangered ally in eastern Thrace.

  CHAPTER 20

  Spring found Olympias alone again in Pella while Philip campaigned in Thrace. She used her husband’s periodic and predictable absences to strengthen her priest spy network and set court affairs in the direction she wished. She often visited Philip's concubines, renewing her intimidation of them. Each of them knew when the king left that Olympias would make an appearance. They knew also what she would say. Her message never varied: know your place, produce only female offspring, and don’t threaten Alexander's accession.

  Olympias found out one day after the event that Nikesipolis, Philip’s most beautiful concubine, had just delivered a baby girl. The sex of the infant had saved its life. Nikesipolis had named the little girl Thessalonica and had the good sense to keep it away from Philip, especially Olympias.

  The queen was pleased that her regular visits to the concubine had achieved just the effect she wanted. A little boy born to Nikesipolis would have spurred the queen of Macedon to deadly action.

  Olympias had worked hard to keep Philip unaware of these matters. She intended to keep it that way. She avoided making friends with any of Philip’s other women because she knew that it would make them less fearful of her. The only exception to this was the beautiful Thessalian, Nikesipolis. She had other designs for her and was just waiting for her to finish nursing her newborn baby girl.

  Olympias did invite the concubines to join her in religious ceremonies, for this was another way to observe and control them. The spring celebration of the great Dionysia was one of the most important of the Macedonian religious festivals. It was always preceded by three days of art exhibitions, poetry competitions, musical concerts, and athletic games. Olympias encouraged her son to compete in many of these events. Alexander often took first prize in poetry reading and was almost always the winner in the sporting contests he entered.

  Euripides’ morose and profound play, The Bacchae, was the last artistic event before the beginning of the Dionysia. The old poet had written it in Pella over sixty years ago, during the last two years of his life. He had been in the Macedonian capital at the invitation of King Archelaus, Philip's grandfather, after being charged with impiety for his literary works while living in Greece. Olympias was always moved by the play's theme. A king of Thebes, King Pentheus, was dismembered by a frenzy-ridden group of women worshipers of Dionysus, the maenads. The king’s mother led the women. Pentheus’ sin was that he had ridiculed and denounced the orgiast's ceremony and threatened to banish them from his land.

  Although Euripides intended the play as an allegory of his life, Olympias and nearly all Macedonians took it literally. After the play, the queen spoke to Nikesipolis, the only concubine she had allowed to sit with her during the play. "Euripides speaks to me every year through this play. "Were you as moved as I was, Nikesipolis?"

  "I was," the concubine responded. "It taught me what power women can have through Dionysus. Without the god, we're little more than slaves."

  "I've known that since childhood." The queen then changed the subject. "You know that I like you. I have from our first meeting. Although I've made it a strict rule not to befriend any of the concubines, you're an exception. Tomorrow I lead the great procession in the hills and I want you to join me."

  Nikesipolis knew that the queen's invitation was more than that. She was being commanded to walk in the procession with her. "I'm pleased that you asked me, Olympias. Although Dionysus is not as popular in my homeland as he is here, I'd like to learn more about him."

  The two women began to make their way out of the large open-air theater. "Come to the palace with me,” the queen said. “I've more to discuss with you. One of my priests tells me that you have a contact in Athens. She's the mistress of a boule member."

  Nikesipolis was startled, but not surprised, that Olympias knew of her Athenian friend. But she had stopped underestimating the queen long ago. "She is. We were childhood friends in Thessaly before her parents died. She was sent to Athens to be raised by her uncle."

  Queen and concubine continued their discussion as they were transported by litter back to the palace. When they arrived, Olympias knew everything that she needed to know about Nikesipolis's Athenian friend. She left the king's mistress in her bedchamber briefly, while she conferred with her chief palace priest about what she was told. She then returned to her bedroom and the waiting Nikesipolis.

  That night, Olympias taught her more about Dionysus and introduced her to snake worship. She also took the woman to bed with her where, for the first time, she experienced sexual pleasure with another woman. For years, she and Philip's lovemaking had been diminishing, even when he was home in Pella. During the best of times, the king and queen of Macedon just tolerated each other. During the worst of times, Olympias certainly didn’t want to have sex with him. Now she had found a delightful substitute for the carnal pleasures that had slowly been taken from her.

  Queen Olympias of Mace
don was not yet ready for a life of celibacy.

  The next morning at daybreak, Olympias stood on the steps of Zeus-Ammon's Temple and spoke to the women marching in Dionysus's holy procession. Male worshipers stood along the edges of the group. None of them were allowed in the procession, nor were they ever permitted to join the women in the hills. Years ago, a single man disguised as a woman managed to hide in the group and march out of the city with them. When the women arrived at their secret glade, he was discovered and became a terrifying part of the ceremony. That year instead of ripping apart a goat sacrifice, the man was torn limb from limb. The women ate his flesh and drank his blood. When word reached Pella of what had happened, no man was ever seen in the procession again.

  Olympias held her right hand above her head and quieted the celebrants. She closed her eyes and in a near trance, began to speak. "Bacchoi, we are called into the hills. Listen and you will hear him. His call is not with words. It is felt. Our symbols are ready, our hearts are open. The spring vine bursts into blossom and he awaits us in his realm. There, for two days, you will hear his woeful tale. You will learn of his pain and agony. You will experience his death. As the wine frees us, we will glory in his resurrection. We will drink the blood and eat his flesh. Then he and we will become one. You will then understand that you will never die."

  A mournful, high-pitched wail emerged from the group as Olympias walked down the steps. She took her position at the head of the procession and signaled for the music to begin. Nikesipolis walked beside the queen. Immediately behind the two women, a huge phallus painted in three bright colors was lifted atop the shoulders of slave women. When it was secure, the procession began. Singing accompanied the music and several hundred maenads, wearing ivy wreaths and carrying small wands, followed Queen Olympias. Men worshipers remained at the temple and conducted their own limited ceremony.