Alexander the King

by Peter Messmore

  However, the boule and the ecclesia refused to meet Alexander’s demands and a dangerous stalemate followed. Finally, Alexander received an Athenian delegation and a compromise was proposed. Both sides agreed that Athens would exile a large group of mercenary officers and their men. In return, Alexander would relent in his demands for Athens’ political leaders to be turned over to him. Nor would he attack Athens, if she remained at peace and supported the impending Persian invasion. It was a compromise that met both sides’ needs.

  Alexander then led his army north, assured that, for now, Greece and Macedon’s outlying barbarian territories were pacified. He would spend the remainder of the fall and winter preparing his troops for the reason why he had been born. Persia awaited the son of Zeus-Ammon.

  CHAPTER 6

  DEPARTURE

  “Stop talking, Parmenio!” Alexander shouted. “I wouldn’t have brought you back from Abydos if I thought all you were going to do was interfere in my personal life. I value your strategic and tactical advice; I honor your long service to Philip. But speak no more of me fathering a child before the invasion. I’ve made up my mind. Sex with a woman right now is repugnant to me. We leave for Amphipolis in two days. Go enjoy the last day of the Pan Hellenic games. Then join our army outside the city. You will ride behind me when we parade out of Pella. That is how it is going to be.”

  “Zeus-Ammon protects me,” Alexander continued, calming himself. “I have never doubted that and neither should you. Perform your military duties and we will prevail. Serve me, as you did Philip, and we will get along. But stop your campaign to influence those around me. I know who you have been talking to; understand that each one has been told the same thing I am telling you now.”

  “Greece is watching me and I will not languish in my palace waiting for the birth of a successor while Persia is ripe. Tell the guard to send for Hephaestion when you leave.” The king of Macedon turned his back on Parmenio and walked away.

  Philip’s oldest and most trusted general left the throne room. He was furious with the young king’s emotional outburst and his red face showed it. For days, he had been unrelenting in his appeals to Alexander, pleading with him to delay the Persian invasion. He had argued that it must be rescheduled, at least a month, while the king impregnated as many aristocratic young Macedonian women as his weak, opposite-sex libido could manage. Parmenio had even met privately with others close to the king. Each of them had been urged to reason with Alexander about the vital need to produce a male successor before departing Macedonia.

  Parmenio had even resorted to pleading with Alexander’s inner-circle of young friends. He knew they could exert more influence on him than he ever could. Chief among these able youths was Craterus. Parmenio chose him, not only because he knew that he agreed with him, but also because he knew that Craterus and Hephaestion hated each other. It was common knowledge that Alexander’s close, personal relationship with Hephaestion was the primary reason the king could not be convinced to sire one or more children before he left Macedonia. However, even Craterus’ plea with Alexander had been rejected. The king had told him never to mention the matter again.

  Walking north out of the palace, toward the Peristyle Courtyard, Parmenio told Alexander’s personal bodyguard that the king wished to see Hephaestion. Then he headed toward the city’s stadium and the wrestling competition. His fists were clenched and a scowl etched his forehead as he walked through Pella.

  A mere lad, a boy a third his age, had just upbraided him. The obnoxious youth was fortunate that he had decided to throw in his lot with him. He was even more fortunate that he had not brought charges of regicide against him. He would bide his time and wait his moment. Now in his mid-sixties, Parmenio had learned long ago that impetuosity rarely succeeds in kings. Philip’s greatest strength had been his ability to seek council from those around him and, most often, follow their advice. Alexander will defeat himself, Parmenio thought. Time is my friend in this contest. Longevity is a strong characteristic of my family.

  Arriving at the stadium, he finally realized that his character, like King Philip’s, was like a wrestler’s fighting stance. Keep low, retain your balance; fortify yourself for the long, difficult contest ahead. He recognized that his guile and experience supporting Alexander’s father had prepared him for what lay ahead. Let the blazing meteor of Alexander’s character burn itself out before it reaches the earth, he resolved. He would be there to pick up the pieces.

  ≈

  “Has Parmenio stopped his ranting yet?” Hephaestion asked as he was admitted to the king’s throne room.

  “I think he will now, my friend,” Alexander responded as he rose to greet his closest confidant. “He knows that I’ve made up my mind. But Olympias will never relent, not even when we leave. Join me over here.” Alexander considered Hephaestion as the two walked to a nearby set of couches. His friend was not nearly as bright as he was and often said things that bordered on dullness. He frequently got angry, was often spiteful, and refused to talk to him for days. However, as with opposite-sex lovers, they always seemed to make up and reaffirm their personal devotion to each other.

  In a flash of insight, Alexander realized something about his companion. He loved Hephaestion for two reasons. First, he was a beautiful, almost exquisite man. Tall among Macedonians, much taller than Alexander, his clear, fair skin surpassed that of most women. Secondly, Hephaestion was unquestioningly devoted to him. Alexander knew that he would gladly die to further his kingship and his quest for glory. For these reasons alone, the two were bonded for life.

  Putting his private thoughts aside, Alexander addressed the reason that he had sent for Hephaestion. “The army leaves for Amphipolis in two days. Only you, Parmenio, and I, know the exact day. By tonight, everyone in Pella will know. Darius’ agents will send word back to General Memnon. Then, the contest will begin.”

  As was his custom when Alexander was telling him something, Hephaestion said nothing. Nevertheless, he always listened attentively. Alexander valued the characteristic. The king continued. “My last days here will be spent trying to raise money. Philip left the kingdom deep in debt. I’ve been forced to sell practically all of the royal land holdings just to support our departure. At most, we have only thirty to forty days of food and supplies. Then, we must either have a significant victory or stop the invasion.”

  “That victory will come, but you must play your role. I want you to create an unassailable, inner circle of protection around me while I manage the first difficult months of the campaign. The list of men in this inner circle should start with those who attended Aristotle’s school at Mieza with us. Their names are on this scroll.” Alexander handed Hephaestion a small scroll. It bore the king’s lion’s-head seal on it.

  Hephaestion took the scroll and put it in a pocket of his cloak without opening it. “I’ll begin today,” is all he said.

  Alexander smiled, and then continued. “This group will be called the Royal Bodyguards. They will allow me to concentrate all of my energies on the Hellespont crossing and defeating Memnon’s forces there. You and my young comrades must guard my back.”

  “Our adventure begins. Put away any concerns about your safety. I seek no command now; your security is the greatest need. Later, I hope you will honor me with a unit of my own. High command would help me protect you even more.”

  “High command is before you, Hephaestion. Don’t doubt that. But give me time to solve other problems. You know of my devotion to you.”

  “I do. Don’t trouble yourself with my personal wishes. I can wait.”

  Alexander rose, signaling the meeting was over. The two men walked to a balcony overlooking Lake Loudias and breathed in the cool, spring air sweeping across the muddy lake surface. The lake had a familiar smell, one that reminded both men of their childhood and teenage years. They spoke briefly how they used to sail the fast-silting body of water and how much deeper it had been in years past. Now, the boys had become men and the world awaited their
manhood.

  The king dismissed Hephaestion after his reminisces started to become maudlin. At the door to his throne room, Alexander commanded his bodyguard to inform Olympias that her son wished to dine alone with her that night. Walking back to his work table, he knew that his last challenge before leaving was telling Olympias her role in his kingdom. Then, he would be ready to meet his destiny.

  ≈

  A simple wooden table covered with a brightly colored Macedonian tablecloth greeted Olympias as she walked into Alexander’s throne room. Her son awaited her, sitting at the head of the table, directly beneath the ancient throne of Macedon. He was already finishing his third large cup of strong, uncut Macedonian wine.

  “You’re lovely tonight, mother,” Alexander said with sincerity. “Come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

  Olympias smiled and joined Alexander at the table. The throne room door slammed much too loudly and they were alone, except for two slaves waiting to serve dinner. “I know your departure is imminent, Alexander,” she began. “When does the army leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”He poured himself another kantharos of wine and motioned for the slaves to begin serving the meal.Then he continued. “I know that you have anticipated the reason that I sent for you. You knew that I would not leave without this private time together.”

  “I was not worried. You will never forget your mother. You and Hephaestion are not the only two who are bonded.”

  Alexander smiled as the slaves began to serve the meal. More food than ten men could have eaten soon covered the table. The meal was mostly seafood. Eels, shark meat, shellfish, and an assortment of fresh fish were spread before mother and son. Alexander took one of each of the seafood selections. His mother contented herself with a small portion of shellfish. Alexander helped himself to several types of vegetables, freshly cut that morning from the Gardens of Midas. The room was filled with the gentle smells of the finest foods in Macedonia.

  Alexander watched his mother. Olympias didn’t take any of the green foods. She had often told her son that seafood gave her mental energy, while preserving her alabaster skin. When the serving was complete, Alexander dismissed the slaves. Only King Alexander and former Queen Olympias now sat in Macedon’s throne room.

  “I want you to correspond with me regularly while I am in Persia, mother.” He spoke as he began to eat the sumptuous meal. “It need not be every day, for Antipater will do that. I want your insight, the benefit of your guile, and your political and religious views of what is happening in both Macedonia and Greece. I trust no other person to do what you do so well.”

  “Thank you, son. I will do it gladly. Will we use the same secret writing system that you devised?”

  Alexander finished eating half of a delicious eel, then answered. “Yes. However, instead of just using the Iliad, there will be four other books that will be the source of our coded communications. Each scroll will have a number. The Iliad will be the first. Scrolls 2 through 5 will be placed in your room tonight. Our letters will rotate through the set and then begin the cycle again with the next page of each scroll. Unless I stay in Persia for the rest of my life, there will be more than enough text for us to create unbreakable codes. You’ll find simple written instructions under my seal in your room when you return. They will help you remember how to do it. Memorize the instructions, and then burn them. No one must ever discover our code.”

  “I remember how to use it, Alexander. There is no need for additional instructions. I’ll burn your directions as soon as I return. I still may not read well, but I’m as bright as you are. My letters to you will be without error.”

  Alexander smiled at his mother’s remark about her brightness. He knew that she was right. With that matter settled, he continued. “Persia’s conquest will not be easy, mother. I may be gone for years. You are to submit to Antipater’s political will and not challenge him. He is regent and has my trust. He will even lead the home army against insurrections that will inevitably break out. Watch him and let him know that you are protecting my interests. But I want no direct confrontations between the two of you. Is that understood?”

  “I understand.” She wore a wry smile that caused Alexander to doubt her sincerity.

  Alexander had finished his meal, but Olympias had eaten practically nothing. He looked at her quizzically, as if to invite the words that he knew were inside her. The king was sure that his mother was about to make one last appeal for him to father a son before departing. He also knew that they would not speak privately again. If Olympias had anything to tell him, now was the time.

  Olympias rose from her chair and walked to the seated Alexander at the other end of the table. She smiled her enigmatic smile as she pulled her son to a standing position. Then she began unfastening her girdle that held her beautiful, rose-colored chiton snugly around her adolescent-like waist. Slowly and deliberately, she removed the garment and let it drop to the floor. Olympias stood naked before her son.

  “Remove your garment, Alexander,” she said softly. “Trust me; it’s necessary.”

  Alexander had learned never to be surprised at anything his mother did, but her actions now both amused and alarmed him. Fighting the thought, he couldn’t help thinking that she was inviting sex. Was this the last desperate act of a mother who was determined that the king must leave an heir before going to war with King Darius? Their sexual union would produce a defective heir, one that would be both his son and his brother.

  However, the wine had charged Alexander’s libido and he was in a pixilated mood. He looked up and down at his mother. He had never seen her naked before. It was an unsettling experience. Her body’s skin was even paler than her face and hands. The revealed skin appeared even more blanched when contrasted with her two penetrating blue eyes. Alexander was surprised to see that his mother wore a small, golden ring on her left breast nipple.

  He suddenly lifted his eyes and regained his senses. I’ll play the game up to a point. I can stop it anytime. He loosened his belt and disrobed. The king of Macedon and his mother now stood nude before each other, beside a table of barely eaten Macedonian food.

  “Put your left leg on the seat of your chair,” Olympias commanded. “You have an imprint there, beside your organ. I know you have noticed it; I used to watch you finger it when you were a child.”

  Alexander’s left eyebrow rose, but he complied with the request without comment. He knew of the birthmark. Hephaestion had commented on it more than once.

  Olympias then knelt before her son and moved his scrotal sack away from his high, left inner thigh. Her index finger found the birthmark and she looked up. “This is the mark of Zeus-Ammon. I know that you have never seen it clearly because of where it is. Let me describe it. It’s clearly the image of a lion’s head. Even its mane is visible. Close your eyes and imagine the shape as I trace it.”

  Alexander kept his eyes open, sighed, but allowed his mother to trace the birthmark. He then took her by the shoulders and brought her to a standing position. “Did you have to disrobe to describe my birthmark, mother?”

  Olympias smiled and then moved her son gently aside. She put her slender foot on the chair seat and slowly spread her legs apart. Then she took Alexander’s hand and forced it to a spot high on her own left inner thigh. It was in exactly the same place where she had just traced Alexander’s mark. “Kneel and look at my mark, son,” she said. “I’ve seen it many times with brass mirrors. It’s identical to yours.”

  Again, Alexander did as his mother asked. She was right. A clear image of a lion’s head was there. Its abundant mane appeared even fuller beside Olympias’ auburn pubic hairs. The king rose, picked up both of their robes, and smiled. While the two dressed, the king was shaking his head.

  “Mother, what kind of a stunt is this? It’s common for children to bear the same birthmark as one of their parents. What’s your point?”

  “My ‘point’ will dominate your life forever. It has been prophesied for centuries t
hat Zeus-Ammon would father a son. That son is you.”

  “I know all of this, mother. You drummed it into my head from my earliest years.” The king was growing impatient with his mother’s mystical theatrics.

  “What you don’t know, Alexander, is that I deliberately mislead you while Philip lived. I let you believe that you had two fathers, one spiritual and one earthly. That was not true. Philip never entered my body to create you. A lightning bolt struck my womb the night you were conceived. I was bathing in a mountain pool, immediately after the Festival of Dionysus. No one, other than my slave, was present. Philip sired your sister, but none of him is in you. Zeus-Ammon is your solitary father—the marks prove it.”

  Alexander grimaced and started a frustrated walk around the throne room. His head was shaking left and right as he walked. At last, he returned to his mother and stood defiantly before her. “This is absurd. You have gone too far again. I know my heritage. You don’t need to elevate me more than Zeus-Ammon has already. I’ll more than meet His and your expectations.”

  “Don’t dismiss what I’ve just shown and told you,” Olympias shot back. “Investigate it for yourself. Consider this as well: my priests tell me that during the last two years all of the statues that I had erected to Zeus-Ammon have had identical marks appear on their inner thighs. The marks were not there when the works were created. I have signed statements of the sculptors who carved them. Issue commands for agents to travel Macedonia and Greece to verify what I say. You will find that your mother speaks his truth. You are Zeus-Ammon’s only son. You cannot forget that as you seek your glory in Persia. He will not let his son fail; you cannot be defeated.”