Philip and Olympias: A Novel of Ancient Macedon

by Peter Messmore

  Olympias was ecstatic. Her son was regent of Macedon. Better yet, Philip was off fighting an aggressive group of barbarians known for their ferocity. Her priests told her that the Scyths excelled at archery. They even arranged for a demonstration of the Scyths' powerful composite bow that Philip had sent back to Pella for study and imitation. Each night Olympias prayed to Zeus-Ammon that an enemy arrow would kill her husband, elevating her son to the throne. It would be the fulfillment of what she had been promised so many years ago at the sacred shrine of Dodona.

  As days passed into months and her prayers were not answered, she approached desperation. Soon, Philip would return. She and her son's status would again be subject to the whims of her capricious husband. Then an event obviously inspired by Zeus-Ammon presented itself. An obscure and primitive tribe in northern Thrace, the Maedi, began a series of attacks on Macedonian territory and fortifications on the upper reaches of the River Strymon. When Olympias received news of these attacks from her priest-agents, she went immediately to Alexander.

  "Your time has come," she began. "These incursions are the answer to my prayers."

  "How did you hear of the attacks, mother?" an apparently surprised Alexander asked. "I've just learned of them," he lied.

  "Your holy father keeps me informed. You must seize this occasion! Take part of the home army north and show everyone what the son of a god can do. Don’t council with Antipater, or wait until you have written your father. Act!"

  "You're right, mother," Alexander said with a knowing smile. "It will be done. Come with me to the temple. We'll give thanks for this opportunity."

  Mother and son were taken in royal litters to the Pella temple dedicated to Zeus-Ammon. There, Olympias offered hundreds of animal sacrifices to her god. Special supplication was given for Alexander's safety and military success. Alexander privately thanked the god for getting Philip to grant his request for a military expedition against the Maedi. Antipater had, nearly a month before, warned him of possible incursions, and the Prince had sent the fastest horse messenger to Philip's Scythian expedition, asking for authority to stop them. Philip had wished his son well in this first opportunity at defending his country.

  Alexander left Pella with two thousand foot companions and three hundred cavalry. It took only six days for him to encounter a badly outnumbered and outfought, ragtag Maedi force. The enemy was quickly vanquished and Alexander understood for the first time what his father had tried to tell him a year ago. Although he had been brave beyond all need, although he had gotten the rough Macedonian soldiers to follow a sixteen-year-old into battle, he was not prepared for the emotions that swept over him when he directed mass killing. Nothing Aristotle had ever taught him about barbarians, nothing that he had ever thought about had prepared him for the carnage and mayhem that was battle. It had not been possible to elevate himself above the bloodletting atop his horse as part of a cavalry charge, since nearly every battle had been fought in steep mountainous terrain. Men simply had to charge into men and kill before they were killed themselves. There were no rules, no principles, and no debate—just killing.

  The prince, just as his father had done at Philippi, founded a town that he immodestly named Alexandropolis. It wasn't much of a town, but it was Alexander's. Then the prince-regent led his victorious army southward, back to Pella. At night, when he encamped with his adoring officers and now battle-hardened fellow pages, he tried to absorb everything that had happened. He even attempted to write a poem about these experiences. When words failed, he resorted to one of Aristotle's eristic exercises. The introspective debate focused on battle, death, and human butchery. That was as far as his torn mind could go. He would never again think such thoughts—nor would Prince Alexander of Macedon ever allow himself to show the sensitivity required to write something as pointless as poetry.

  Summer came, and Philip brought his main force back to Pella. He had been forced to lift the siege of Perinthus and redouble his siege efforts of beleaguered Byzantium. As his army made its way southwest toward Pella, laden with Scythian booty and 20,000 prisoners, they were attacked incessantly by the Triballians, a hairy collection of rough barbarians living south of the Danube. During the last battle with these merciless fighters, Philip, for the second time in his life, received an enemy spear thrust to his thigh. The spear had gone through his leg, entered his horse and killed his mount. The king's companions had to rescue their monarch and retreat homeward.

  The wound turned out not to be life threatening, continuing Philip's good fortune on battlefields. But it would leave the king even more grossly lame. The injury required three months of convalescence in Pella before he could lead his army toward the waiting crisis in central and southern Greece. Despite this minor defeat, a defeat that had taken a psychological toll on his troops instead of a military one, nearly all Macedon's outlying territories had been made secure. Macedon was ready for Athens.

  As Philip endured the healing process in his palace, he no longer felt threatened from his east. It was time to turn to Athens and mainland Greece. He knew that he would have to continue to use a combination of peace overtures, diplomatic feints, and overt troop movements to win his lifelong goal. One major miscalculation would bring down Macedon. Not inherently a religious man, he called on the priests of Pella to enlist the gods' support for his quest. All he needed was a small opening into which he could inject either his diplomatic corps or his army, or both. It had worked for him in the past. He would show needed patience now, hoping that it would happen again. The naive gullibility of his learned Athenian adversaries never ceased to amaze him. Perhaps they would commit another blunder, as they had done so often in the past.

  Nearing the end of his three-month convalescence, Philip one morning beckoned first Olympias and then Alexander to come to his private bedroom for important discussions. Discussions, he told the Royal Page that fetched them, that were of national importance.

  The queen arrived quickly. It was as if she knew of the summons and was just waiting for the page to arrive. Showing no evidence of aging, and even more beautiful than when she had first married Philip, she entered the king's quarters. She looked at his elevated leg and spoke first. "Each time you return, you've left a piece of yourself on some battlefield."

  "That should please you. There may come a day when my head and my body will return in separate boxes. Your time will have come when that happens."

  "You seek a quarrel even when I show sympathetic concern for you. I don’t wish your death—not now. You have properly elevated Alexander to regent in your absence and he has fulfilled his holy father's expectations. That's all a mother could want."

  Philip, still distrustful, dismissed her comment. Repositioning himself on his giant bed, he directed his wife to sit on a nearby couch. "We'll never treat each other with respect again, Myr ..., Olympias." It was the first time since he had given her a new name that he had slipped and nearly called her by the name that she bore when he fell in love with her on Samothrace. The slip disturbed the king, but he recovered and changed the topic to why she had been summoned. "Another sacred war has flared up while I was in eastern Thrace. Can you believe it? As before, it involves Apollo's temple at holy Delphi. I'm just learning details of the Greeks' foolish squabble. There may be opportunity here for Macedon."

  "I'm aware of these events," his wife said knowingly. "My priests keep me informed of Greek religious events."

  "I know that. Your priest network puts Attalus's operation to shame. For the first time since you've been queen, I'm asking you to use it for a national cause, instead of spying on me and elevating Alexander."

  Olympias let Philip's biting remark pass. As she smoothed the folds of her chiton, she first smiled a secret smile then looked directly at her husband. "You want the Delphic priests to create a schism about Athens's actions against the Locrians in Amphissa." Her remark was a statement, not a question.

  "Were you not a woman, you might have been a king, Olympias. You think like a king
. But you're right, that's exactly what I want you to do."

  "What you ask is already underway. I set the plan in motion months ago, when the controversy first broke out. It was done for religious reasons and to oppose any further Delphic sacrileges. It's now apparent you want to use my plan for military purposes."

  "I've always underestimated you. It will be my downfall. Meet with Attalus today and tell him what you've done. He and I will make these actions part of our plans against Athens. You may leave now. Tell my page to send for Alexander. Is there anything that you need?"

  The queen rose, folded her hands, and told the king that she had all that she wanted or needed. "My course is guided by the gods. There is nothing you have that I need. Treat Alexander as a future monarch, and I will support you. If your action toward him changes, I'll become your mortal enemy. The gods themselves have decreed that I am his earthly protector. Take care; renew your health, let your leg heal. A great battle awaits you in southern Greece. Have confidence that the gods have smiled on our efforts there. You will not fail." She turned and left the bedroom.

  Philip, still in awe of his wife's spiritual connections, was disturbed by the woman's overweening confidence. He considered with quiet alarm her not-so-veiled threat against him. He was determined not to let this worm-loving woman ruin what was an improving relationship with his son. Besides, he needed Alexander in the coming crises. The boy was a natural, intelligent, and aggressive leader, one who would soon lead his crack companion cavalry against Macedon's enemies.

  As he waited for Alexander, he considered how he could reduce Olympias's influence and still elevate the prince. Perhaps he could bribe one of her priests into making Alexander think that his mother was working against his eventual accession. It was unlikely that he could break the inseparable bond between mother and son, but it was worth trying. Alexander certainly knew of Olympias's lust for power. Philip's own mother had not shrunk from attempting that years ago. He decided, at last, to use the last days of his convalescence to set the plot into operation when he heard his son being admitted into his quarters.

  "Has your leg healed, father?" Alexander said as he strode confidently into the king's presence. "You'll need it to chase down Demosthenes when we defeat him."

  Philip laughed and he held out his arms to embrace his son. The king beamed with pride as he greeted the teenager. Alexander was a son that any man would brag about. He knew no limitations, doubted nothing, and only wanted to surpass Philip's achievements in everything that he did. It was Philip's responsibility to harness his electrical-storm personality, focus his energies in a direction that would realize Macedon's destiny. The news he would give him today would begin that process. "Sit, Alexander. I have something to tell you."

  Alexander sensed a message of great importance. He, too, felt a new relationship with Philip. Fatherly love was no longer possible. But for now, the adolescent delighted in the new trust and sense of mutual purpose between his father and himself.

  "I was proud of you when you served as regent. Antipater told me of your leadership in Pella and your brilliant battles against the Maedi and the Illyrians. Macedonians have started to see you as my eventual successor. They have accepted you as my heir. I don't know how to teach you those qualities; I doubt that Aristotle taught them. They were born into you, a gift from your father and mother."

  "I've thought about that, father. There are, indeed, qualities in me that foretell greatness. But now I just want to help you and Macedon during these perilous times. I know that my day will come when you are taken by the gods."

  "That won't be for a long time," Philip said sarcastically. “If you and your mother understand who rules Macedon, we'll get along. Our nation will expand and you will learn the demands of ruling. Lessons that I was forced to learn in less than a month. I've come to a decision about your future. Effective tomorrow, you'll be appointed general of the companion cavalry. A ceremony will be held outside the palace honoring your promotion. While I'm not yet ready to appoint you full cavalry commander—Attalus will continue in that role for some time—if you continue to develop as I know you will, that day is not far off."

  Alexander rose from his couch and stood proudly before his father. A broad smile spread across his beardless face. His eyes sparkled. "You will never regret your decision, father. When do we move south to attack the Athenians?"

  "You rush into battle," Philip said with an upward roll of his eye. "First, my leg isn't completely healed. Until then, we'll begin playing a high-risk game that has worked for me in the past. I learned it from the Athenians during the first year of my reign. It's called say one thing and do another. Already, our ambassadors are in Athens and Thebes. They're working to avoid having the two Greek powers join forces against us. I did it to Athens years ago. Now I'll use all our diplomatic tricks to prevent it from being used against us."

  "Can we exploit Athens' actions against the Locrians as part of this diplomacy?"

  "Aristotle taught you politics well. That part of my plan has just been set into motion. Let me worry about that. You are to use this time to bring the cavalry to its highest state of preparedness. Work with Attalus while we await events. The time for battle will come soon enough. When our army leaves Pella, it will be with lightning speed. There will be no warning of our departure, no leaks to Athenian spies who arrive here daily. Only I will know when. Even you will learn of our deployment at the last possible moment, probably the night before we leave."

  "Your orders will be followed, father. The companion cavalry will become your offensive instrument. Already I have ideas about how our tactics can be improved. I'll discuss them with Attalus."

  "I wish that my broken body had your energy, Alexander. But I still have a cunning mind. Together, we'll show the Greeks what barbarians can achieve. Before they know it, I'll be hegemon and you can begin preparations for the Persian invasion. Leave me now. My accursed physicians will soon be here to flex my leg so it won't stiffen and wither. They tell me that I'll never run again. Even walking will be difficult."

  "I will be your legs, father. You must avoid the battle line from now on. Neither I nor Macedon can afford to lose you at this critical time."

  "Your words warm my heart, son. I'll meet with you and my other generals as events dictate. Pray to the gods that we will prevail and emerge victorious."

  Alexander bid his father goodbye and left.

  Philip awaited his physicians and was disappointed that he found himself doubting the veracity of his son's final words. Had his mother given them to him, or were they heartfelt? The prince would be watched and controlled tightly as the months passed. Father-son love was one thing; Olympias's control of Alexander was another.

  Stupidly, the Greeks gave Philip another religious pretext to intervene in central and southern Greece. It was similar to the one that the king had used so many years ago. For the fourth time in his reign, a religious controversy related to the Apollo's temple and the shrine's surrounding lands prompted fighting and a call to arms of the various Greek poleis. Again, it was a tiny state that triggered the controversy. Amphissa, an obscure town near Delphi, brought charges against Athens in the Amphictionic Council for impiety involving a gift to Apollo of golden shields without having first waited for his temple to be re-consecrated.

  Athens's representative in the council, Aeschines, then escalated the trivial dispute. He brought countercharges against the Amphissaeans for farming holy land south of Delphi and misuse of the harbor at Cirrha, on the Corinthian Gulf. The Amphictionic Council voted to send a delegation to Cirrha to investigate the charges. The group was attacked by the Amphissaeans and sent back with the message that the regulations didn't apply to them and they would be disregarded.

  This temporarily placated Athens, but put Philip's superficial ally, Thebes, in a predicament. She felt compelled to side with Amphissa as part of her age-old strategy to dominate the poleis of central Greece. Just as if Olympias's prayers had been answered, the Amphictionic Counci
l, in its fall session, invited Philip again to take leadership of another, and this time crucial, sacred war. Bearing the title of hegemon of the Amphictionic League, the king graciously accepted the role of protector of Apollo's holy temple and arbiter of conflicts in central and southern Greece. Philip's patience had again paid enormous dividends.

  The day after receiving the delegates from the Amphictionic Council, Philip appointed Antipater regent in his absence and left Pella. With unprecedented speed, the Macedonian army swept southwestward, avoiding the pass at Thermopylae that was heavily defended on its southern side by Theban hoplites. In weeks they took Heraclea-Trachinia and Cytinium. They then charged through the Cephisus Valley and finally stopped at the town of Elatea. Alarm spread through Boeotia and Attica.

  The Macedonian army had brilliantly bypassed Thermopylae and now stood poised to strike deep into southern Greece, only days from Thebes and Athens.

  Demosthenes swung into action. The boule voted for the formation of an emergency assembly, headed by Demosthenes. It was to be sent to Thebes. The only possible chance of stopping Philip was through an alliance with Athens' age-old adversary. Hasty and tense negotiations soon produced what Philip feared most: an Athenian-Theban alliance. Land command of the combined forces was assumed by Thebes. Athens retained command of the united navies.