“As was my duty to my king, Macedonia, and to each of you, I went to Philotas and warned him of the plot. He assured me that he would inform King Alexander. After days of asking Philotas about what must be done, I realized that he never intended to tell our king about this conspiracy. I had to take direct action and not follow our chain of command. I got word to the king secretly and the full plot that you are hearing about was revealed. That is what happened.”
Alexander had Cebalinus’ brother confirm the plot details, and then the two men were dismissed.
“We arrested Philotas last night and he has been questioned,” Alexander continued. “Soon, he will have a chance to tell his side of the story. Before that, here is the most damning evidence of not only a plot, but of Parmenio’s complicity in it.”
The king held up a scroll letter and turned in a tight circle so that all of the Macedonians could see it. “Listen to what Parmenio himself wrote,” he shouted sarcastically. “These are his words: ‘First, look out for yourselves, then for yours: for thus we shall accomplish what we have planned.’
“These words, written in Parmenio’s own hand, refer to the discovered plot,” Alexander added quickly. “More evidence and testimony will be presented to you, but this letter alone is enough to convict Parmenio, Philotas and the pages.”
It was damning evidence but more would be needed to convince the skeptical Macedonians that a plot to murder Alexander was afoot.
Written testimony from Philotas’ mistress was introduced next as evidence. It showed that Philotas and Parmenio had frequently criticized Alexander and had often said, in mixed company, that they were personally responsible for most of the king’s greatest military achievements. However, her testimony fell far short of confirming treason.
At last, Alexander called for a still robust Philotas to appear before the Macedonians. Philotas came forward, mounted the dais platform, and stood there with an arrogant stance.
Alexander looked at him contemptuously then continued the attack. “Philotas, I know in my heart that you are a damned traitor.” Alexander stood face-to-face with his brilliant cavalry commander. “Nevertheless, our tradition allows you to speak at any trial bringing serious charges against you. I know that you won’t speak in our Macedonian tongue, so I refuse to stay and hear you. After you have insulted our good men’s ears with Attic Greek, I will return. I have already been injured enough by your actions; I will not stand here and listen to your snobby-assed remarks.”
With those pejorative words, Alexander stepped down from the dais and left Philotas under the tent. He stood alone with his hands tied behind his back.
Philotas waited for Alexander to leave and then, with a glower on his face, began to speak. “There is no evidence here.” His voice was confident and his demeanor was superior. “If you ignorant men choose to believe this drivel, then I will gladly die. You know that I am unfairly being singled out for elimination. Alexander has been waiting his chance to purge me.”
His strong remarks and self-assured manner started to find sympathy with pockets of old-line supporters of his father.
Philotas’ forceful words were not what Alexander’s supporters wanted to hear. Suddenly a newly appointed general, a man who had been promoted from the common ranks of Macedonian fighters, came forward and shouted down the crowing Philotas. “You bastard!” he yelled contemptuously. “You won’t even speak to us in our mother tongue. Why don’t you explain why you threw out common soldiers from the house they captured to make room for your personal prizes of war? They slept in snow that night, while your treasure remained warm and dry inside.”
Other common soldiers supported the general’s attack with barbed shouts as the Macedonians shifted their mood again. At last, Parmenio’s brother-in-law joined the fray, walking before the prisoner and charging him with treason. He charged treason not only to Alexander but also to his family. “I should stone you myself,” Coenus said as he reached down and picked up several large rocks.
The incident nearly started a riot. Shouts of “Kill him right here” and “I’ve never liked the snooty turd” came from the men. Only the return of Alexander brought back uneasy calm.
“That is enough for today,” the king shouted. “We will reassemble tomorrow. My Royal Companions will question Philotas again to see if he is as innocent as he claims. You men will decide his fate after we get more information. As it has always been with fighting Macedonians, the final decision will be yours.”
The king turned on his heel and left the trial.
He soon gave orders to Coenus, Hephaestion, and Craterus to torture Philotas and get a written confession. He also wanted written testimony from Philotas that Parmenio was involved in the plot. Like the River Granicus battle, this was a fight that he intended to win at all cost.
≈
The next morning Philotas had to be carried to the second trial session. Wounds covered his body. One of his arms was broken, and his left eye protruded from its socket. With great difficulty, as two of the king’s bodyguards held him up, he uttered a mumbled confession that only the front ranks of the Macedonians could hear.
“I plotted with my father to have Alexander killed,” he said softly. “Alexander has my written confession. I’m ready to meet my fate. May the gods pity us.” He spat out a mouthful of blood, and then collapsed.
Quickly, two of Alexander’s bodyguards carried his limp body away from the gathering.
Alexander walked slowly to the tent dais. It was time to ask his men for a verdict. The king looked down and then surveyed the eyes of the massed Macedonians. “Philotas has convicted himself from his own mouth,” he began. “Parmenio’s guilt is also established beyond doubt.
“You must vote now. I will name two names. Each of you will vote with your swords. If innocence is your verdict, raise your sword high in the air. If you think the man guilty, cast your sword in the mud.”
Alexander heard the sound of 10,000 swords being unsheathed by his fighters. All was ready. “Philotas,” he shouted.
In a near-simultaneous action, practically all of the Macedonian fighters thrust their swords into the mud. A low, growling roar and numerous shouts of profanity accompanied the rippled gesture.
Scattered among the mass of men were Alexander’s inner circle of young officers. Their job was to note the men who did not vote for conviction. In the days ahead, the dissenting men would either disappear or be put on the front line of some hopeless charge against an entrenched enemy. King Alexander would not tolerate democratic descent.
The most crucial vote came next. Alexander spoke in a loud, caustic voice to his men before starting the process. “I know that many of you love General Parmenio,” he began. “He served my father with distinction and brilliance. Early in our campaign, he also served me. Nevertheless, treason is treason. His own son has implicated him in the plot. A letter in Parmenio’s own hand implicates him. Any other king would not even put this matter to trial. Do what is right by our fighting code, men. Raise your swords.”
Alexander shouted “Parmenio!” The downward cast of thousands of swords into the mud took longer this time. Nor was it a unanimous gesture. Some men stood there with their swords high above their heads; others let their swords drop limply at their sides. However, the great majority of the fighters cast their swords aggressively into the soggy ground. Shouts of “The old bastard has lived long enough!” and “Kill both of them!” were heard, and Parmenio’s fate was decided. He would die with his son.
However, Alexander wasn’t done yet. He brought forward an old challenger to the Macedonian throne: Alexander of Lyncestis. The pitiful remnant of a once-proud man was given the chance to speak but his long imprisonment had affected his brain. He managed only a few, incomprehensible mutterings that no one could understand.
Without even being asked, the Macedonian fighters collectively cast their swords into the mud. “Get rid of him too,” someone in the ranks shouted.
The accused started to resis
t, but one of the king’s guards carried out the verdict and killed him on the spot with a spear.
Alexander left the trial in the hands of Craterus, who knew what was expected of him. Old enemies of the king and men with questionable loyalty were presented for verdicts. Some were found guilty; others were found innocent and escaped death. A few were permanently exiled from ever serving with Alexander again or even returning home to Greece and Macedonia. The purge was nearly complete. All that remained was Parmenio’s execution.
≈
Polydamas, one of King Alexander’s Companions, was chosen to deliver Parmenio’s death warrant. He selected two Arab guides, dressed as they did, and then embarked on a breakneck ride using the fastest desert racing camels. Their destination was Ecbatana, where Parmenio waited.
Eleven days later, Polydamas and the Arabs arrived in Ecbatana in record time. He went to Parmenio’s second in command and presented him with the old general’s death warrant. Cleander, understanding what was happening, decided to cooperate. There had been a trial and Parmenio had been found guilty. The old man must die.
The next morning Cleander and several of his officers found Parmenio resting in a serene garden. It was a well-watered spot where flowers covered the walls and decorated the many pathways. Under the guise of presenting letters from his son and Alexander, Cleander waited while the old general happily open the first one from his son. Then he drew his dagger and thrust it into Parmenio’s ribs. Other killers joined the attack with thrusts to Parmenio’s throat and back. King Philip’s old friend and most trusted confidant, a man who had survived innumerable battles and court intrigues, died exactly as his king and life-long friend had. It was the Macedonian way.
≈
A near insurrection occurred when Parmenio’s soldiers discovered what had happened. Quickly, Cleander showed Parmenio’s men signed documents from Alexander. The documents described the trial and summarized the evidence showing that their general had participated in the plot against Alexander. At last, an uneasy calm returned to the Macedonian forces.
After days of tension and contentious meetings with soldiers and officers of the old general, it was decided that nearly all of Parmenio’s body would be buried, with full military honors, in Ecbatana.
Before burial however, his head was removed and sent to Alexander as proof of his death. It was Parmenio’s sad fate that his mortal remains would rest in two separate places, so many thousands of stadia from his provincial homeland in Macedonia.
CHAPTER 16
MORTALITY
“He’s blind and speechless,” Alexander’s physician reported to Hephaestion. “The rock that hit him in the head and throat would have killed a lesser man.”
“Is his life in jeopardy?” asked Hephaestion. “After all he’s been through I can’t believe that the gods would end his life like this.”
“He must have strict bed rest,” the physician answered. “If he doesn’t improve in ten days, the injury may be permanent. Don’t allow him to do anything during that time. His life is in your hands, Hephaestion.”
Hephaestion dismissed the physician and walked back into Alexander’s quarters. He approached his bed and saw his friend sleeping fitfully on the huge field bed that had belonged to Great King Darius. Alexander’s short body seemed lost in a sea of silk, peacock-embroidered sheets, and opulent Persian blankets.
Gently, so as not to disturb his friend’s sleep, Hephaestion pulled away the royal blue silk sheet that covered the king’s leg. Not only had Alexander suffered a possibly life-threatening head and throat injury, he had been shot in his leg. The arrow had shattered his leg bone. Hephaestion examined the leg splint, saw that it was properly positioned and free of infection, and then recovered Alexander’s leg.
He then left and sought out Ptolemy, now a member of the king’s Royal Bodyguards. “No one other than me, his physician, and the slaves that feed and care for him are to be admitted into the king’s quarters,” he told Ptolemy. “The next few days will decide his fate.”
“Craterus and I will share command of the army until he recovers,” Hephaestion continued. “The whole army needs rest and recuperation. Alexander’s illness will serve that purpose for us all. Protect him with your life, Ptolemy. Dispel any rumors that our command structure is weak. Let me know if you hear anything and I’ll deal with it. Traitors will not be tolerated!”
“This is not his end, Hephaestion,” Ptolemy answered. “The king’s seers examined the signs. Each assured me that he will recover. They examined the entrails of a thousand sheep and goats yesterday. There is not a negative sign among their organs.”
Hephaestion frowned and pursed his lips. He was not a religious man and believed in little other than the invincibility of Alexander. However, if others took meaning from butchering animals, it didn’t trouble him. Besides, there was a remote, mystical chance that it just might help in the king’s recovery. These matters were far beyond his limited intellect and he knew it. All he could do now was to protect his friend so that no more harm could come to him.
Ptolemy changed the subject. “Dispatches have arrived from Pella and Epirus, Hephaestion. Do you want to read them?”
“I’ll read Antipater’s,” Hephaestion answered. “They may contain something that requires immediate action. Only Alexander reads Olympias’ messages. I’ve asked him more than once about her letters and he always gets angry. Besides, they are written in a secret code that only the two of them know how to decipher.”
Ptolemy knew that Olympias corresponded regularly with her son but was unaware that their communications were encoded. “She still sees him as her little boy, even after he has nearly conquered the world,” Ptolemy said. “I suppose mothers never change.”
The two men smiled and then went their separate ways.
Hephaestion knew that perilous days lay ahead as he held Alexander’s army together, waiting for his recovery.
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“Give me mother’s scroll,” Alexander said to Hephaestion nine days later. His raspy voice was two octaves lower than normal and he spoke with quavering difficulty.
Hephaestion had Olympias’ letters ready and gave them to Alexander. “I’m pleased that you are better,” he said to his friend. “What else do you require?”
“Leave me alone, old friend. When I finish mother’s letters, I want to read Antipater’s dispatches. Separating them two years ago was a good idea. Mother needed a small, inconsequential kingdom to rule.”
“Call for me if you need me,” Hephaestion said as he left Alexander alone.
Alexander took a copy of Euripides’ Iphigenia in Aulis from a bedside table. It had a large numeral four etched on its leather cover. It was the fourth of five works of Greek literature that the king and his mother had been using to encode and decode their private messages to each other.
Alexander repositioned his healing leg on some stuffed pillows and began decoding his mother’s message. Although her writing ability had improved over the years, she still showed rudimentary, almost childlike skills in writing Attic Greek. As a boy, he had resented Philip for never allowing his mother to become fully literate. Her writing skills would never get any better than they were now. When he finished decoding, Alexander read his mother’s message for meaning.
‘Alexander, Son of Zeus-Ammon, Beloved of the Gods, Conqueror of the World, My Dearest Son:
I was furious with both you and Antipater when you sent me back to Epirus. I could have served you better in Pella, watching that monster you named Macedon’s regent. But when my brother was killed fighting in Italy and I took over ruling my homeland, my life became better. I now rule here until my cousin, Aeacida, comes of age.
Antipater and I never speak nor write. He came here recently, but I shunned him. I know you trust him, but one day you will have to deal with his ambition. Although I dislike him, he is an able administrator and commander. Without him, you would have been forced to return to Macedonia to put down the rebellions. I do give him
that.
His son, Cassander, is more dangerous than his father. Be careful of that snake. He supports you now, but he will turn on you when you are weak or threatened by your enemies.
I learned from the captain of a sailing ship that put in at Corcyra that you are in Afghanistan or Bactria. If my tracking of you is accurate, you have been there for over two years. What is taking you so long in that godless land?
I know you won’t return to Macedonia until you take India. Aristotle put that awful dream in your mind. Why do you linger in the east? Have you found a woman or a new man that you love?
I don’t want to grow old and die without ever seeing you again. Write me as soon as you get this letter. You must answer each of my questions. I am your mother and I gave you life. I deserve more than an occasional message about your military victories.
I continue to hear alarming reports about your drinking. You swore to me that you would never become your father, but your uncontrolled drinking is leading you to repeat his self-destructive patterns. If you cannot stop, at least have the good sense to dilute the wine—the way the Athenians do. Your mind is too great to destroy it with drink.
Do you ever look at the lion’s head birthmark on your thigh?
My love and devotion,
Yours,
Queen Mother Olympias
Alexander smiled but was exasperated with his mother. He decided to ignore most of her demands and insulting questions. Olympias had no idea what he had been facing for the last two years. She continued to charge high rent for the nine months that he had spent inside of her. He reached for a blank scroll and a writing instrument to begin a caustic answer to her questions. Then he had a better idea.
“Hephaestion!” he yelled.
His friend came quickly to his bedside. “What is it, Alexander?” he asked.
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