Philip now controlled events. The convocation was his final instrument to conclude these convoluted moves and countermoves. It was also the way that the Sacred War would be brought to an end. The Amphictionic Council excluded Phocis from the Shrine of Apollo and their votes on the council were awarded to Philip. Phalaecus formally surrendered both his army and his nation. He was secretly allowed safe passage out of Greece. Philip and his allies demanded annual reparation of sixty talents, a harsh penalty that was accepted by Phocis's newest leaders. Twenty Phocian towns were razed and their inhabitants resettled in widely separated villages, never to threaten the Delphic Temple again.
Finally, Philip was appointed president of the upcoming Pythian Festival of Apollo, a singular honor for a man whom everyone in Greece had called a barbarian only a decade and a half ago. The king had outmaneuvered, out-negotiated and out-intimidated his cultured but disunited southern neighbors. Not one Macedonian soldier had lost his life.
The era-altering negotiations elevated Philip to the point that he had striven for. He would now show his magnanimity and leadership abilities. The summer had been filled with intrigue and danger, but he had prevailed. Calm was now the order of the day.
At the concluding convocation ceremonies, the king drank far into the night and knew that no force on earth could stop him now. Not unless Olympias and her god decided to intervene.
As a precaution, the next day he visited the holy temple of Apollo. There he conferred with the chief priest. After a private, friendly discussion, during which the priest was bribed handsomely, the holy man agreed to write a decree that would be seen only by the king's wife and then destroyed. It named Olympias as chief Zeus-Ammon priestess at Delphi, coequal to Apollo's priests. At the bottom of the document was a disclaimer that the decree was only an honorary and temporary action that would become null and void at the next Dionysia. Philip assured the priest that his wife could read neither the formal decree nor the last decree-erasing provision, so that no possible harm could come from what was only a symbolic gesture. It was merely a small gift from a victorious husband to his loving wife. It would all soon be forgotten after the king showed it to Olympias and then burned it in his bedroom brazier.
Philip spent the next year consolidating his diplomatic victories. Peace and a shaky alliance had been achieved with Athens, but he knew that anti-Macedonian elements in the city's boule would work against long-term success of the agreement. Demosthenes would inevitably lead these Philip-haters. Philip's attitude toward Athens was still one of compromise. He would disarm the volatile Demosthenes with surprising diplomatic receptivity. He increased the number of Macedonian-paid agents in Athens, as the king's diplomatic efforts were aimed at calming an embarrassed Athenian leadership.
But there were other demands on Philip now. He led his army northwestward into Illyria where, after a series of short but bloody battles, he was successful in subduing again Macedon's ancient barbaric tormentors. During the last battle of this campaign, the king received an enemy spear that passed through his thigh and killed his horse. The wound, though severe, was not life threatening. Philip was rushed back to Pella for another convalescence. It took months for his leg to heal. As time passed, his court physicians became alarmed that the Illyrian spear that had shattered his right femur would leave their monarch lame for life. Near the end of the convalescence, their worst fears were realized. He would walk again they told him, but it would always be accompanied by a pronounced limp. His lurching gait was a condition he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
Philip used the forced inactivity of his convalescence to begin planning for massive relocations of great numbers of the conquered peoples in the Chalcidice, Thrace, and even among his countrymen in upper Macedonia. Frontier realignment, rewarding his loyal supporters with newly conquered estates, and securing his road and communication lines were the driving forces behind these pervasive and disrupting changes. He knew, too, that by moving conquered and outlying peoples, he would temporarily confuse any plans to oppose him in the years ahead. These efforts were even extended into Thessaly, where Philip had been named archon for life. Thessalian coinage was changed, as was the organization of their ancient and, to Philip, hopelessly inefficient administrative system.
Near the end of this half-year recovery, when his leg wound was nearly healed, the king began to show interest in young boys. When he thought about it, which was rare, this same-sex salaciousness surprised him. He had used boys sexually only occasionally during his kingship. A boy a month had been his requirement. But, in recent weeks, he had been ravishing one or two a week. Perhaps he had grown bored with the sameness of sex with women. Perhaps he was acting out against his wife, for he made sure that she was aware of his activities. Maybe he just needed a new concubine.
On a sunny late afternoon, the king called for the son of Cersobleptes, the Thracian king who was still his reluctant ally. The eleven-year-old boy was admitted into the king's private bedchamber, and Philip’s guard closed the door. Philip approached the terrified child, fondled his head, and took him in his arms. He carried him to his bed and quickly undressed the lad. Philip removed his clothes and lay beside the shaking boy. He began kissing him, eventually descending to his small penis and smooth buttocks. Soon the king mounted the child from the rear and, with some difficulty, managed to insert his enlarged organ into the screaming, crying youth.
The king’s son watched the depraved scene. Alexander had been informed of his father's debauchery by one of Philip's former conquests. The teenager had asked Alexander to help him commit suicide. The prince had, at first, threatened to kill him for lying about King Philip. But the boy's suicidal depression was so genuine that Alexander had decided to find out the truth for himself. Consulting his mother, he had learned that the king's private bedchamber had been built with a narrow observation space between two of the walls.
"Lift up the tapestry of Philip's first address to his army at Aigai,” she had said. “It’s hanging in the hallway outside his bedchamber door. You can easily enter the space. I'll distract the guard long enough for you to sneak in. You'll find three eyeholes there. Inside the king's room, the holes form part of a wall mosaic. Philip's unaware of the holes. I've watched him for years. If he knew of them, they would have been sealed long ago," she concluded with a cruel smile.
Alexander sat motionless, hardly breathing, as he watched his father release his pent-up lust. He remained in the space long after the king had consoled, bathed, and sent his newest conquest back to his quarters. Finally, when his father had fallen asleep, he crawled silently back toward the hallway. He waited until the middle of the night, when the guard fell asleep, before leaving the secret observation space and walked back to his room.
Prince Alexander didn't sleep that night, or the next two nights. He thought of his father, his mother, and what it meant to be a man. But mostly he recalled the words of his secret poem, still childishly scrawled beneath Philip's throne. At last, he reasoned that the revolting scene that he had just witnessed was the consequence of men loving men and men loving boys. He must now reconsider the intent of his poem. Much had to be examined and analyzed. One thing was clear to the royal adolescent. His relationship with his father would never be the same again. During the remaining year that he had in the palace, he would grow closer to his mother. Life at court was nearing an end, and he was eager to explore its meaning with a teacher whom he respected. Philip would never receive his admiration again.
Alexander knew that Aristotle of Stagirus, the man who was to be his last tutor, now resided on the island of Lesbos, after having left the service of Hermias in Assos. Because of the depraved scene he had just witnessed, Alexander was even more eager to join his new pedagogue.
The time was not far off when genius would meet genius.
CHAPTER 22
Philip created the Royal Pages for several reasons. First and never to be forgotten by their estate-rich fathers, was that these adolescents were bei
ng held in what everyone knew was benign captivity. Membership in the elite unit was also a strategy that Philip was using to bring national unity to Macedonia’s contentious ruling classes. He also envisioned membership in the group as a way to train the generals, engineers and civil administrators that Macedon would need when it became the undisputed leader of Hellas.
The pages had already learned much from being in the king's court. Each had learned to read and write. They aided the king during his many hunts and became accomplished and fearless hunters. Importantly, because it broadened their limited highland Macedonian backgrounds, they interacted with many of Greece's most renowned painters, architects, engineers, medical doctors, and artisans. Philip saw the pages as the first of a cadre of new Macedonian men who would project the power of his state to the ends of the world. He was convinced that the training and education of the pages could only be done in a protected and remote setting, far from the chicanery of Pella. It was with these thoughts that Philip assembled the first group of pages that would be sent to Mieza to live and study with Aristotle.
King Philip watched the mostly adolescent pages enter his throne room and stand before him in a semicircle. First was Philotas, son of Parmenio, of royal Pelagonian stock. Then young Cassander, son of Antipater, entered. The boy's father was a lifelong friend of Aristotle and Philip knew that he would receive special treatment. Then came Hephaestion, easily the most handsome, almost beautiful, of the group. The clear-skinned youth walked briskly into the chamber and took his place before the king. Thirteen-year-old Prince Alexander, who stood close to his childhood friend, joined him. King Philip studied his son with pride. Alexander was much shorter that his peers. But the arrogant young prince had an imperious presence about him. One got over the disappointment of his height quickly and was taken by his eyes. They projected a disarming gaze. It was as if the deep brown eye examined a part of you while the blue one probed deeper for any sign of weakness. The boy was beardless, in contrast to the other pages who had started to show the beginnings of the hairy facial growths that Macedonian men prided themselves on. His hair was long and wavy, almost blonde.
Philip noticed that his son held his head elevated and to the left, the result of a neck injury he had experienced during a brutal game of sphaira. It was a mean, rugby-like game that prepared the pages for the life and death contests they would experience in battle. The king made a mental note to have his physician examine Alexander’s neck, then continued his examination of the prince. Even at thirteen, Alexander carried the body of an athlete, muscular and lean. Despite and not because of his titular status, he was clearly the leader of the youths who continued to gather before the king and queen of Macedon.
Ptolemy entered next. Nominally the son of Lagus, he was rumored to be the bastard son of Philip. He was a serious and impressive twenty-two year old, the oldest of the group. One of Pella's own aristocratic children, Marsyas, walked to an empty place in the half circle, squeezing Alexander's shoulders as he went by. Then a group of three boys, Derdas of Elimea, Leonnatus, also of Pella, and Harpalus, an Elimiote of royal ancestry joined the others. Finally, a group of non-Macedonian boys, offspring of Philip's recently ennobled Royal Companion officers, came into the room. Most notable among them was Nearchus and two brothers only a year apart, Erigyius and Laomedon.
At last, all thirty-nine pages were present.
Olympias entered the throne room, studied the group, and said something to a slave. She walked to a side couch and sat gracefully, not taking her eyes off Alexander and Hephaestion.
Philip signaled for the throne room door to be closed. He stood to address the eager juveniles. "I look on the future of Macedon. Most of you are of noble blood. Some of you come from less exulted backgrounds. But there is a common characteristic shared by you all. Your fathers are men of achievement and bravery. I have tested each in the most severe challenges that a man can face. Not one has failed. In your bodies and minds pulsate cunning, desire to achieve, and leadership. You were born for these reasons. In two days you'll leave for Mieza and the best education that your king can give. Each of you will apply yourself and become everything that your fathers, your king, and Macedon expect. When Persia is conquered, we'll need great leaders. These leaders will come from the group before me. Although you don't know it, there are generals among you. Engineers, scientists, physicians, and historians will blossom from your midst. Distant empires will reel from your actions. Some of you may create your own dynasties. Watch your comrades as they develop in the years ahead.”
“My son is in your number. He'll be a part of you, yet separate. For he's the crown prince and my successor. He'll learn what you learn, grow as you grow. Challenge him; require him to be the greatest among you. Not because I want it or because of his exulted birth, but because it will make him earn the right to be called the finest of the fine. Events will soon require that and more of him.”
“But this ceremony shouldn't be so serious. I’ve arranged for the most beautiful hetairai in the kingdom to be brought to you in the next two days. Wine and food will flow, and your every carnal wish will be granted. I expect a new crop of Royal Pages to emerge from your lust nine months from now."
The mostly prepubescent boys—even Olympias—laughed. But Philip's sexual gift to the boys had not originated with him. The queen had observed for months that Alexander and Hephaestion had formed, what seemed to her to be, an unnatural bond. She had gone to Philip and told him of her concern. The king had laughed and passed it off as an early teenage sexual affectation. But Olympias had persisted. She pleaded with him that Alexander and the other departing boys should be sexually initiated by a group of women that she had selected.
Alexander's woman had been chosen carefully. She was a courtesan from Thessaly and said to be the most beautiful, sexually experienced woman in Greece. Both parents expected their son's relationship with Hephaestion to change dramatically in the next two days.
Philip dismissed the pages, watching Alexander and Hephaestion leave the chamber together. He walked to the seated Olympias, who still wore a look of concern. She spoke first.
"Callixeina will report to me tomorrow morning. Our son's lust must be properly awakened before he spends years with those boys in Mieza."
"As usual, you've taken care of everything," the king said sarcastically. "Give me Callixeina's report at the banquet for my companions tomorrow evening. I'm curious about our son's sexuality, but for different reasons than you. Hephaestion and Alexander cannot produce a male heir; let's pray to your god that Callixeina succeeds tonight. Otherwise, I may need to take other actions."
Olympias knew Philip would react like this. It had been anticipated long before Philip knew anything about Alexander and Hephaestion. She hadn't survived this long as titular wife by not anticipating brilliantly most of her husband's actions and inactions. Self-satisfied, she knew the problem was on its way to being solved.
Two days later, the group of thirty-nine Royal Pages prepared for the trip to Mieza. They were given a grand farewell parade as they left the capital. The parents of every page beamed with pride as they shouted their goodbyes to their sexually initiated offspring. The only unhappy parents in the reviewing group were Philip and Olympias. The queen told her husband that Callixeina had delivered a depressing report about Alexander's sexual tendencies. Although the courtesan had spent the night with the prince and had used every seduction technique she knew, he had not responded. There had been intermittent intimate contact, but it had been one-sided. Callixeina reported that their son had shown only amazed curiosity about female anatomy and how it differed from his.
Philip was amused, but only mildly concerned. After all, he had long had sex with both boys and women. Yet, his bisexuality had produced Alexander. He decided to use the event to help keep Olympias in her place. He knew his son would eventually produce a child, perhaps even a male child—if not intentionally, accidently. He might have male preferences now, his high-pitched voice might produce musi
c and poetry like a woman, but some night, when he got drunk, there could be an unexpected outcome.
Olympias was crestfallen and couldn't hide it. That night she went to the Temple of Zeus-Ammon and prayed that her son would learn how to have an erection with women. She sacrificed hundreds of Macedonian rabbits and placed scores of small phalli around the holy place. Each bore Alexander's name. Carefully placed beside the phalli were small clay vaginas. Each clay model had an auburn-colored, curly specimen of the queen's own pubic hair glued to its exterior. By morning light, Olympias felt that her son would develop normally. His holy father had assured her that all was well. She would allow his education in Mieza to begin.
Since the peace treaty signing with Macedon, Athens had been in turmoil. Philip had won nearly everything that he had demanded during the negotiations. Demosthenes and his assembly colleagues were determined to make someone pay for this humiliation. A convenient scapegoat was Philocrates, the originator of the ecclesia peace motion and subsequent leader of the delegation to Pella. It was against Philocrates that Demosthenes now focused his vituperative energies. He was successful in urging an ally, Hyperides, to bring impeachment charges against Philocrates and the date for the trial was set. But before the trial began, Philocrates, sensing the hopelessness of his cause, fled Athens. For this he was found guilty of contempt and condemned to death. Exhilarated by this easy victory, Demosthenes brought charges against Aeschines for Macedonian complicity and bribe-influenced cooperation with Philip.
The charges against Aeschines were argued in full public view and, for weeks, it was the only event of importance going on in Athens. But Aeschines was not Philocrates. The able legislator, aided by Phocion and Eubulus, took the lead in his defense and narrowly managed to escape conviction. As they had for years, the Athenians continued to quarrel and debate among themselves, failing to confront Philip with any unified opposition.
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