Alexander, composed now, returned his friend’s embrace. “This will change my life. Egypt has much to teach me. I can afford to spend a month here. Darius can wait. We control the entire Mediterranean Sea. I may even go to Siwah. Great spiritual insights await me there.”
“Leave me alone here. I want to watch the sun set across the Nile. This is a sacred time. I’m afraid that even you cannot share it, my dear friend.” A sudden burst of cool wind shot up from the river, as if to punctuate the king’s remark.
Hephaestion knew that Alexander was right. Nothing would ever be the same after this. He left the temple, arranged for six all-night bodyguards for his king, and then began meeting with Egypt’s chief priests to plan for the Pharaonic installation ceremony. It would occur late in the month of Maimakterion. God, as Alexander, was truly among them.
≈
After a magnificent installation ceremony, Alexander organized a festival for athletic games and literary competitions. Great athletes and literary figures were brought in from all over the Greek world, and his tired but proud army reveled in the rest and celebration. Then he sailed north on the Nile, letting the south-to-north flow of the great river carry him slowly through his newest empire.
It was a gentle trip as he watched great Egypt unfold before him. Farmers tilled the rich farmland as they had for hundreds of years. Simple but effective devices, called shadoofs by the Egyptians, lifted water out of the Nile and dumped it into an elaborate system of canals. The centuries old machine, consisting of a water bucket suspended on a weighted rod, allowed the farmers to irrigate their fields and produce two crops per year. The irrigation technique fascinated Alexander. Egypt would become his breadbasket as his conquests continued. He made a mental note that he might use the shadoof when he reached the arid lands of Persia.
He spent a day at the Giza plateau, touring the Great Sphinx and the great Pyramid of Cheops. Already, it was recognized as one of the wonders of the world. Despite his healing shoulder wound, Alexander and Ptolemy managed to climb to the top of Cheops’ great structure.
“The Egyptians call this pyramid Khufu,” the king said. “Neither Greece nor Persia has anything like this,” he said to his climbing companion. “If I die in battle,” he said as they rested at the pyramid’s apex, “I want an even bigger structure built as my necropolis. Promise me that you will do that”
Ptolemy nodded agreement but refused to talk any more of his king’s death and changed the subject abruptly. “Herodotus wrote that everything is different here,” he offered. “Egyptian women are said to urinate standing up while men pass their water while sitting. I haven’t seen these things yet, so I don’t know if the historian got it right or not.”
Alexander smiled and looked at the man he believed to be his half-brother. Ptolemy had disappointed him more than once, but he had many laudable qualities that any king would find valuable. He was unassuming yet steadfast in his military duties. Alexander had never known him to be anything but cautious and in full control of his emotions. His only vice was his relationship with the wildly sexual Thais. She was an Athenian courtesan who had accompanied Ptolemy on the expedition.
Neither Alexander nor Ptolemy suspected that, one day, this bastard son of King Philip would become pharaoh of the land that stretched below both of their feet.
≈
At last, the king’s entourage arrived at one of the arms of the Nile delta where the great river emptied into the Mediterranean. From there Alexander traveled west and found a site that pleased him. It was opposite the island the Egyptians called Pharos. “I will establish a great city here,” the king said. “Tyre is destroyed and the Mediterranean must have a new commercial seaport.”
“Send for Deinocrates, the Rhodian architect. He is the best, and I am serious about the future quality of this new city. It must have straight and wide streets. The strong sea breezes here will make it a pleasant place, even in summer.”
“It will become a place of commerce. Perhaps more importantly, I want centers of learning established here. Civilization will grow in new directions because of what will happen in this place. I am issuing an order today for a great library to be built here, facing the Mediterranean and our homeland. I want every book ever written anywhere in the world to be kept here. It will also become a center for science and research. I will seek Aristotle’s advice on this. The city will be named Alexandria.”
After staking out the city’s plot lines himself, he turned over the rest of the city-building tasks to civil engineers. Then Alexander called his inner circle of commanders together for an announcement that surprised most of them. Present were Hephaestion, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, and Seleucus. Callisthenes and Eumenes also attended to preserve the historical record. “In two or three days, I will leave for the great desert oasis at Siwah,” the king began. “My spiritual destiny awaits me there. Only fifty men and Ptolemy will accompany me. No one else is going. Ptolemy is going because he has nearly mastered the Egyptian language.”
“Each of the men accompanying me has proven his toughness in the most trying conditions. While the rest of you wait here, your tasks are to build our Egyptian garrisons and organize a system of grain production that will support our army. There must never be an interruption of Egypt’s grain supply.”
“I have heard of Siwah, Alexander,” Hephaestion spoke up. “It’s almost 2,500 stadia from here. One of the worst deserts in the world surrounds it. You risk much by going there.”
“Don’t question my decision, Hephaestion,” the king answered angrily. “I cannot continue with my conquests until I hear Zeus-Ammon’s Siwah oracle. A supplicant can ask as many questions as he wants and answers from god himself will be given. I will not miss this opportunity.”
Alexander dismissed his friends and then started a series of meetings and treaty negotiations with city and tribal representatives from all over Northern Africa. Each had come to acknowledge Alexander’s divinity, assure him that peace with the new Egyptian Pharaoh was their goal, and agree to supply foodstuffs to his army. It was just as Alexander wanted it.
≈
Alexander spent the next two days attending to administrative matters and meeting with local Egyptian officials. At last, a strong need emerged in him to share his spiritual reveries with his mother. Late one night, he wrote a letter to Olympias. It was shorter than others he had written. It read:
‘Mother, I have come far and achieved much. However, tomorrow, I begin the most important quest of my life. I know that it will change me forever. Zeus-Ammon’s oracle, at Siwah, is in the Great Desert, southwest of where I am now. You spoke of his temple there during our last night together.’
‘The Furies still haunt me about Philip’s death. Terrifying nightmares about his elimination are rarely absent from my sleep. I know that guilt about Philip is the reason I have increased my drinking. Until now, none of this has affected my leadership; our great victories attest to this.’
‘Only you know of my torment. You must never reveal this to anyone. Mention it only to Zeus-Ammon in your private devotions.’
‘I know that our actions against Philip do not trouble you. Demons never have invaded your sleep, nor will they. I envy your peace of mind. Yet, I know that without your actions, I would not be alive. I continue to thank you for that.’
‘At Siwah, I will ask the oracle if I must forever be harried by guilt. Egypt has ordained me as a living god and pharaoh. My men adore me. Darius’ entire empire will soon be mine. However, I am never at peace. I know that this is the source of my pothos-driven actions. Other men consider my behavior as just a manic part of my personality. It is much more than that.’
‘This message will not reach you for weeks, even by our fastest trireme. By then, I will be back on the campaign. Pray to Zeus-Ammon that I will find peace through his oracle.’
‘Your son, Alexander’
The king reread his letter just once. Then he used their secret code system to encrypt it. No eyes but his mother�
�s would ever read the letter. He then burned the original draft, rolled up the finished scroll, and double sealed it with his royal signet ring. His correspondence left the next morning, just as he began his perilous journey toward the great oasis that was Siwah.
≈
Alexander’s small party stumbled into the Siwah oasis. They were dirty, covered with sand, and had countless lip-sores and sunburned skin all over them. Their three-week journey had almost ended in death when they ran out of water and became lost. An unusual rainstorm saved them, and they struggled on. Then their guides became lost and death once again was close. Miraculously, a flock of crows appeared and guided them southward toward the oasis and the last miserable part of their trip.
Alexander gave all but a few of his men leave, then through an interpreter announced to a priest of Ammon that he was ready. There would be time to rest and bathe later. God’s son was ready to converse with his true father.
Soon, a different priest came to him. He was a scrawny, older man, fluent in Greek. The priest bowed and greeted him warmly as the son of God. They walked to a wooden bench, sat down, and started the consultation process. They were alone, in a shady grove of palm trees. Indeed, the grove was made up of thousands of palm trees fed by Siwah’s underground springs. Close by were countless other trees growing pomegranates, olives, and lemons. A sweet, dry fragrance hung in the air. In the near distance, Alexander saw the stark, ominous desert lurking. Here, however, it was a paradise: a miracle of Zeus-Ammon himself.
“Take me to the oracle now,” Alexander said impatiently to the priest. “I have waited for this moment all of my life.”
The priest smiled but shook his head to the king. “I must explain first what will happen, Great Pharaoh Alexander,” he said. “Ammon’s image is kept in a symbolic wooden boat. When you approach it, priests will hoist it on their shoulders. You should then direct questions to Great Ammon. If the answer to your question is yes, Ammon’s image will sway up and down; if the answer is no, his image will sway left and right. Do you understand?”
Alexander stood up, waving his arms and shouting. “I have not come all this way to view your stupid theatrics, priest. You have just acknowledged me as Egyptian Pharaoh and the son of Ammon. Now get moving and take me to the temple’s inner sanctum. I demand a private audience with the oracle. I will write my questions and you will give me written answers. Anything less than this and I will return with my army to destroy this place. Do you understand?”
Shaken, the priest said that he did. “Allow me to go to the Rock of Aghurmi before you. Follow me up the path, through the gate, and into the Temple of the Oracle inner chamber. No one must accompany you beyond that point.”
“Get on with it,” Alexander shouted with a dismissive wave of his hand.
The king, Ptolemy, and two other companions waited until the timid priest had disappeared, and then they walked up the path to the temple entrance. Ptolemy led the others to a shaded area beneath a great mudbrick wall and started a vigil.
Alexander walked away, ducked his head to get into the low door, and disappeared into a darkened room. The king’s companions heard the door close. Each settled down for what would be a long, sweltering afternoon.
≈
Alexander found himself in a tiny room. It was dark and dank. He saw a torch mounted on the wall providing minimal light. Its smoke disappeared into the ceiling. A small wooden stool rested in the room’s exact center. A leather cord, five cubits long, hung down from a hole in the ceiling. The ceiling was obviously false. Alexander guessed that one of Ammon’s priests waited there. He had seen the arrangement before. “Proceed!” Egypt’s new pharaoh said to the ceiling.
A deep voice from above him said, “Great Pharaoh Alexander, son of Ammon, write your questions on the small scrolls beside you. Then, tie the scroll to the string you see hanging. I will give your questions to the oracle. I speak and write Greek; communication will not be a problem.”
Alexander’s first question had already been answered. Every priest he had met in Siwah had greeted him as the son of Ammon, but this was where he would begin. He wrote, ‘Am I the son of Zeus-Ammon, the god you Egyptians call Ammon-Ra?’ He quickly rolled up the small scroll, tied the leather cord around it, and said, “I am done.”
The scroll disappeared into the hole and Alexander waited, sitting humbly on the small wooden stool in near darkness. He thought the oracle would take forever, but his answer came down through the hole before long. He opened the scroll and read the oracle’s answer from Zeus-Ammon. It read simply, ‘You are the son of Great Ammon.’
A broad smile spread across Alexander’s face. Olympias had been right. From his childhood, she had assured him that his single father was Zeus-Ammon. At this moment, the most revered oracle in the world confirmed his deity. He was ecstatic.
Alexander spent the rest of the afternoon writing questions to the oracle and reading the answers. Each response made the questing Alexander more joyful. When he asked if his father’s murder had been punished, the oracle wrote back that the question would not be answered, since Alexander’s father was Ammon and he was not mortal. Pleased with the answer but still insistent, Alexander rephrased the question and wrote, ‘Have all of former King Philip’s murders been punished?’ The oracle answered that ‘Philip’s death had been sufficiently avenged.’ Hugely relieved, Alexander wrote more questions and read other answers.
The oracle assured Alexander that other oracular prophesies he had been given from Delphi, Didyma, Xanthus, and Gordium were true. He would become lord of the entire world. His last question about the eventual viability and success of his newly established city, Alexandria, received just the answer he wanted: ‘It will become the foremost city in the known world’ was the reply.
Finally, with eyes aglow and a strange aura of invincibility around his face, Alexander left Zeus-Ammon’s inner sanctum and emerged back into the blinding light of late afternoon Siwah. Calmly and slowly, he walked down the path to where Ptolemy and his other companions were waiting. Clutched in his hands were the small scrolls containing the holy answers from the oracle.
“What did you learn?” one of his men asked.
“Are the prophesies favorable? Are they to your liking?” another inquired.
Ptolemy remained silent and let Alexander decide what he wanted to announce.
Alexander held out the palm of his hand to his friends. “The answers are only for me. I will only tell you that the experience has warmed my heart. I am immensely pleased. Our difficult journey was worth it. We will never fail in anything we attempt. I am truly the son of Zeus-Ammon.”
“I will tell our men how you looked when you came down the path,” Ptolemy said at last. That will be enough.”
≈
Alexander and his men stayed at the oasis just two nights and then left Siwah. Before leaving, Alexander burned the oracular scrolls, after having reread them countless times. The king’s small group returned by a different route, crossing the Great Western Desert due east of Siwah.
Each night of the return journey, Alexander wrote segments of a letter to his mother. He described the dangerous journey to and from Siwah. Withheld, however, were the oracle’s answers to his questions. ‘I will relate the profound and inspiring answers to you personally, when we meet again’ he wrote. Some things must never be written for others to see and judge.
Alexander resolved that no one but his mother must ever be allowed to discover the details of what he had been told in the Egyptian desert. Only she had made him the son of God.
CHAPTER 12
PURSUING DARIUS
Alexander waited for Harpalus in Tyre. The king had been gone from the once-powerful seaport for almost a year. Egypt was now completely his. He was pleased that the breadbasket of the Mediterranean had come to him without major military difficulties. Before leaving, he had divided the ruling power there among distinct groups of local leaders, Upper and Lower Kingdom governors, and Macedonian military comma
nders. The ancient society was firmly established as the western cornerstone of his growing empire. In time, he knew that his newly founded city, Alexandria, would become the commercial, cultural, and intellectual jewel of his empire.
However, as self-affirming and character changing as his Siwah spiritual experience had been, he continued having nightmares about Philip. His heavy drinking resumed and he often woke up hung-over from an all-night session of uncontrolled consumption of uncut, Macedonian wine. Anguishing to the point of daily turmoil, he decided to give his troubled spirit more time. Future conquests and Darius’ defeat would help him live with any demons that would not leave him.
Eumenes finally announced Harpalus’ arrival. “Do you want additional bodyguards during this meeting?” he asked his king. Neither he nor anyone else in the king’s camp knew the real reason for Harpalus’ supposed defection to the Athenians.
“No,” answered Alexander. “My meeting with him is secret. Keep the normal guard. When we are done, I will tell you what to write in the record. You may be surprised.”
Harpalus entered the command tent, limping as always from a childhood illness, and approached his monarch. A broad smile stretched across his face. “Greetings and glory to you, Alexander,” he said enthusiastically. “Word of your great conquest of Egypt has spread throughout Greece. It solved many problems for us.”
“Yes,” Alexander answered. “Nothing satisfies Greek souls like the chance to become rich on someone else’s efforts. Sit with me and tell me how serious the rebellions are. Must I delay pursuit of Darius and take care of the situation myself?”
Harpalus showed a self-satisfied expression, then began to allay his king’s fears. “Allow me to summarize my mission. When you sent me, I had grave doubts about success. I had believed Aristotle and your other retainers in Athens to be wrong. Nor could I believe that Hephaestion had developed a constructive dialogue with Demosthenes. However, it was all true.”
Alexander the King Page 12
