The Three Paradises

by Robert Fabbri

  The crowd grew more restless in its mutterings.

  ‘I am your queen!’

  ‘It’s been getting progressively worse since she started this a couple of hours ago,’ Aristonous said as they looked on.

  The cell was surrounded by hundreds of the local populace, including many soldiers. Such was the press of people that the guards had to fight to push them back from the building.

  ‘I am your queen and yet I am treated worse than a beast in a cage!’

  The crowd’s discontent was growing.

  Olympias was flummoxed. ‘How can this be? They’re meant to be enjoying her humiliation, not sympathising with the little bitch.’

  Aristonous looked at her with exaggerated patience. ‘Not everyone feels the same way as you, Olympias; for some, she really is their queen.’

  ‘I’m their queen!’

  ‘No, your king is dead; you cannot be the queen in your own right. You are the regent.’

  ‘Look how she treats us,’ Adea wailed again.

  ‘Silence!’ Olympias screamed. ‘Silence, bitch!’

  The crowd turned and stared at Olympias amidst her bodyguards. ‘Shame,’ many of them muttered.

  ‘Olympias? Is that you? Release us!’

  ‘Yes, release them,’ a voice in the crowd shouted.

  ‘Release them,’ another echoed; and then another and another until the shout became a chant.

  Be careful what you wish for. Olympias turned on her heel and walked, with dignity, away.

  ‘The debt is paid?’ Archias asked as he took the three items up from the table in front of the throne.

  ‘The debt will have been paid once you have done as I’ve ordered,’ Olympias corrected. ‘And then come back to me and we will discuss your fee for killing Kassandros. Now go, and do it cleanly; I don’t want to be accused of unnecessary cruelty seeing as some of my people seem to harbour a misguided affection for Adea and her fool.’

  ADEA.

  THE WARRIOR.

  ADEA SAT ON the dirt floor, hugging her knees, watching Philip play with his elephant in the meagre light seeping in through the narrow slit left in the bricked-up door. Oblivious to his predicament, his legs and tunic soiled with his own filth, he made charge after charge across the cell, vanquishing all enemies before him. She almost smiled, envying him his isolation from the ghastly reality they shared.

  Yet for her, there was a way out; an easy way. She fingered the belt around her waist: it would do. She looked up at the beams supporting the roof: the central one would do very well too. It was a simple matter, but for one thing: she could not leave Philip. She wondered at herself, at how sentimental she had become in that she cared for this man-child and felt the need to protect him; and yet she did. It was a plain fact. He had never asked for any of this; indeed, he would be happy playing with his elephant for the rest of his life if only people would let him and he was fed and warm.

  Nor could she take him with her. He would not understand the concept of suicide with honour and would fight for survival should she try to kill him; he would probably kill her as he defended himself, such was his enormous strength, thus solving the problem. But that she could not allow either, for he would be wracked with guilt and his simple life would become a burden to him; a burden he could not escape.

  No, she was trapped.

  How she had failed and allowed herself to come to this, she could not tell. All had been well with her in Babylon after Cynnane, her mother, had been killed by Alketas. She had ridden high in the army’s estimation, fighting for their rights, their back-pay, anything that would curry favour with them. And then she had been outwitted by Antipatros at The Three Paradises; outwitted and then pushed aside. But that did not dishearten her, no, she fought back, once more using the men’s grievances as her way into their hearts only to be outwitted again by the same man when Antipatros left her with the army stranded in Asia as he slipped back across to Europe without acceding to her demands. The humiliation of having no solutions to the problems she had created had been deep; the army had deserted her and crawled back to the dying regent, begging forgiveness. But then Antipatros had died and she had been able to dominate the weak Polyperchon until she had found out that he had invited Olympias to help him counter her and share his burden; and Adea knew enough about that harpy to know that she shared nothing. Had it been her going over to Kassandros thus putting her irrevocably on the opposite side to Alexander’s demon mother that had been her gravest error? Should she have stayed with the legitimate regent and fought her corner against Olympias? Did it matter anymore? No, she supposed not, for all was lost whatever the cause was.

  Once again she raised her mouth and cried with a voice hoarse from much usage: ‘I am your queen and see how I am treated.’ And once again there was no response, not like there had been earlier. She smiled, grim and mirthless: Olympias had been shamed into clearing the area around her cell so that she would not be able to feed on the sympathy of the people. She would be moved soon, she had no doubt, so that Olympias could carry on tormenting her in private, having realised the depth of her miscalculation when she had seen for herself just how much the people resented such brutal treatment of members of the royal house.

  And it was with that thought in mind, as the light faded outside, that she heard the first of the bricks being levered away with ease, the mortar not yet fully dry. They will take us away in the dark. I suppose we will disappear into a dungeon in the palace to be kept alive for years. She could have wept had Philip not have been there, but she knew she had to stay strong for him.

  The bricks continued to tumble and be scraped aside; the lock clicked; the door opened.

  ‘Good evening,’ Archias said, standing in the darkened doorway. He turned back to his men behind him. ‘Come; let there be light upon the stage.’ And a flaming torch was brought in. Archias looked down at Adea and then Philip, smiling, as if it was a real pleasure to see them both. ‘Our business will not take long, my friends.’

  Philip whimpered and hid his elephant behind his back.

  ‘Oh, it’s not your elephant I want, dear child,’ Archias said, flashing his sword from its scabbard in his right hand, ‘it’s your life.’ He stamped his left foot forward and, in a blur, threw his sword into his left hand to carry on the motion, plunging the tip deep into the unsuspecting Philip’s throat.

  Adea screamed as the weapon was twisted and Philip’s eyes bulged and then dimmed.

  ‘There now,’ Archias said, withdrawing the blade, ‘that didn’t hurt, did it?’

  Adea stared at Philip as he slumped forward, dead. She scampered over to him and knelt down; picking up his elephant, she stroked his hair. ‘You are free to play all you like now, my big man-child.’ She felt a surge of relief: she was able now to choose her own end.

  ‘Yes, you are in luck,’ Archias said, reading her mind. ‘Olympias has taken pity on you.’

  Adea scoffed. ‘That word isn’t a part of her vocabulary.’

  Archias considered the statement. ‘Very true; I got my lines wrong. My apologies.’ He bowed and then acknowledged an unseen audience. ‘Nevertheless, she does offer you death which is far preferable to life in these conditions. To that end she sends you three items.’ He clicked his fingers and one of his men passed the three items in question. ‘A sword, a noose and a phial of hemlock; you choose.’ He paused, dramatically holding his chin as if he had forgotten something. ‘A chair; what use is a noose without a chair? Bring the lady a chair.’

  A chair was duly brought in and set before Adea.

  Archias examined the scene and nodded in satisfaction. ‘I believe you have all the props you need for the final act; I will bid you farewell.’

  ‘Before you go,’ Adea said, unbuckling her belt and feeding the end through the buckle, ‘I have a message for Olympias. Thank her for the items that she sent me. But tell her that I have no need of her tender mercies as I will make my own arrangements. Be sure she knows that I died at my own hand and n
ot through any means provided by her.’

  ‘Alas, dear girl; I will not be seeing Olympias. I have seen quite enough of her to realise that she is mad even by the standards of the age. No, it is south for me. “A cautious man is safest”.’ He turned and, leaving the door open, left with his men.

  Adea made no attempt to follow for the guards were still posted outside; she was not going to humiliate herself even more. No, there was only one thing left to do now and that was to salvage whatever dignity she could. She laid out Philip’s body; wiped what filth she could from him and closed his startled eyes. Satisfied with her efforts, she picked up Philip’s elephant and then set the chair beneath the central beam. Climbing onto the seat she reached up and slung her belt around the wood, fastening it with a secure knot. She took a deep breath and glanced towards the door. The guards were watching her; their commander nodded in approval, his face grave.

  It was time; she slipped the loop of the belt around her neck and pulled it tight. Holding her husband’s elephant in both hands, she briefly pictured her mother. Be there when I come, Mother.

  ‘May you receive the same items one day soon, Olympias!’ She kicked the chair away and felt the leather tight around her throat, her eyes bulging, their light fading as her mind composed her death curse. Olympias. Kicking, she dropped the elephant. I curse you with my final breath, Olympias.

  OLYMPIAS.

  THE MOTHER.

  ‘SHE DIED WELL! Well!’ Olympias screamed into Aristonous’ face; even Thessalonike, standing by the window of Olympias’ day chamber, flinched at the vehemence. ‘How can that little bitch be said by the people to have died well when she died at my hand?’

  Aristonous wiped a droplet of spittle from his eye and took a deep breath. ‘Archias left the door open so the guards saw her hang herself with her own belt; not one of your gifts.’

  The harpy defied me at the last. Olympias ran to the open window, pushing Thessalonike aside and howled out of it over Pella: ‘Bitch!’

  ‘They said she did it with a calmness and bravery that they would have expected from her and said so to the people who came to see the bodies.’

  Olympias turned, she was now puce. ‘See the bodies! Who let the people see the bodies?’

  ‘The door was open.’

  ‘I know it was open! Why didn’t the guards close it?’

  ‘What for? Adea and Philip were both dead.’

  He’s smirking. Olympias struggled to control herself and then looked, with wicked intent, at Aristonous. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  Aristonous shrugged. ‘I can see nothing to enjoy in what’s happened: one of the two kings of Macedon has just been murdered by the regent and his queen has hung herself, dying with dignity; what is there to enjoy?’

  Olympias’ eyes narrowed even further. ‘Just whose side are you on, Aristonous? And think carefully before answering.’

  ‘I don’t need to think about that; I’m on Macedon’s side.’

  ‘I am Macedon.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘Then you are on my side.’

  Aristonous remained silent.

  How can I trust this man? He has sympathy for the little bitch. Perhaps I should get Archias to deal with him before… Archias? ‘Where is Archias? He was meant to come straight back to me.’

  ‘Archias took a ship as soon as he had completed his mission.’

  ‘A ship!’

  ‘Yes, a ship. The one he arrived on waited for him; it was in Ptolemy’s pay.’

  ‘But he was going to…’ Olympias checked herself. ‘Send a vessel after him to bring him back.’

  ‘I don’t think he would come even if we could catch up with him.’

  Olympias slumped down in a chair. ‘Right; we need to remedy the situation. Where are the bodies?’

  ‘I’ve had them brought here to the palace awaiting their funeral rites.’

  ‘Funeral rites? Ha! I want them thrown into an unmarked pit. There’ll be no easy passage across the Styx for that little harpy and her pet idiot. See it done.’

  Aristonous drew himself up to his full height. ‘I do not desecrate bodies, especially those of the King of Macedon and his queen.’ He turned and walked away, looking over his shoulder. ‘That would be the act of a savage.’

  Olympias clenched her teeth, suppressing the urge to scream after him, ordering him to stop. He’ll just keep going and I will lose face.

  ‘That went well,’ Thessalonike observed.

  Olympias looked up at her and snarled, ‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.’

  Thessalonike smiled, sweet and unconcerned. ‘And sometimes I’ll give it for free. And it is this: if you want to maintain power here you are going to need men like Aristonous—’

  ‘I don’t need anyone; I’m the mother of Alexander.’

  ‘As I was saying: you’re going to need men like Aristonous and to keep them you are going to have to modify your behaviour.’

  ‘Modify?’

  ‘Yes, modify. Start acting through reason and not through hatred. There will always be a time for revenge but men like Aristonous hold their honour in highest esteem and won’t have it tainted by malicious acts of vengeance.’

  ‘Pah!’

  Thessalonike opened her mouth to admonish her adoptive mother’s attitude but thought better of it and sat down instead.

  The two women sat in silence for a while, each immersed in their own thoughts.

  ‘I can’t afford to give Adea and Philip a grave,’ Olympias said eventually. ‘It would become a focal point for dissent.’

  Thessalonike inclined her head in appreciation. ‘That is a reasoned course of action which also has the advantage of tasting sweetly of revenge.’

  Olympias nodded, pleased with herself. She clapped her hands; her elderly body-slave appeared in the doorway. ‘Bring my cloak.’

  Olympias looked down at the bodies of Adea and Philip lying next to a narrow hole dug in the corner of a lesser-used courtyard on the north side of the palace; a warm glow ran through her as all thoughts of modifying her behaviour evaporated. She turned to the slaves who had brought them out. ‘Strip them! And then throw them in.’

  ‘Mother!’ Thessalonike warned.

  Olympias waved her warning away. ‘I’m enjoying myself. Allow me that at least.’

  Naked, the bodies were heaved into the hole, Philip first and then Adea on top of him, facing up, her body completely exposed. Olympias straddled the hole and, lifting her skirts, urinated; the warm glow intensifying the more she was enjoying herself.

  Thessalonike turned away, unwilling to be a party to her stepmother’s excess, to see Aristonous emerge into the courtyard leading a prisoner, hands tied behind his back, guarded by two soldiers. ‘Mother, have some dignity; we have company.’

  Olympias looked up and smiled. ‘Nicanor! The day is just getting better and better.’ She stood back up, adjusting her dress and waited for the prisoner to cross the courtyard. ‘Have him kneel before me.’

  ‘I promised to bring Nicanor to you but, remember, he is a Macedonian noble,’ Aristonous cautioned. ‘I have given him my word that he will be treated as such.’

  ‘Then you have wasted your breath. Where are his cavalry?’

  ‘They are being put into the compound with the rest of the prisoners, as you ordered.’

  ‘Good. You can go.’ She glared at the two guards. ‘Force him to his knees.’

  The guards looked at Aristonous who shrugged and then walked away; they glanced at each other before pushing Nicanor down with well-muscled arms.

  ‘Does that make you feel good?’ Nicanor asked, contempt in his voice.

  Olympias looked down at him, triumphant. ‘It helps.’ She considered her enemy, taking pleasure in his humiliation. ‘Your stepmother cheated me yesterday by jumping off a cliff before I could kill your two young half-brothers in front of her. Did you know that?’

  Nicanor’s eyes remained hard. ‘You’ll get n
othing from me, bitch.’

  ‘Wrong; I’ll get a lot of pleasure from sending your head to Kassandros.’

  Nicanor snorted in disbelief. ‘You can’t see what you’re doing, can you? My brother has many failings, one of which is that he is very hard to like, even by his own family. But when he comes in triumph to Pella and puts your head on a spike people are going to worship him, love him, call him their saviour for ridding them of the foulest monster to have ever been given life. You’re turning Kassandros into a nice man.’

  ‘Kassandros will never rule here.’ She thrust the ring into his face. ‘I hold the ring and when I hold something nothing will make me let it go.’ With a fleet movement she reached up, grabbed a long hairpin from her headdress and, bringing it down, pierced Nicanor’s left eye, thrusting it through, into the brain. Nicanor convulsed.

  Leaving the pin in place, she spat in his face as he fell back and then spoke, low, to the guards. ‘Take his head and send it to his brother; throw the remains in with the other rubbish and then kill the slaves once they have filled in the hole.’ With one final look down at the quivering body on the ground she walked away, bliss flooding through her. ‘I’m going to have a look at the prisoners now, Thessalonike; do you want to come along and see me really enjoying myself?’

  Thessalonike ran after her. ‘Mother; you’re losing control. This has to stop or Nicanor will be proven right.’

  ‘Never! I am the mother of Alexander; I am Macedon.’

  If Olympias had felt the elation of vengeance as she watched Nicanor quiver on the ground then it was to a new height that her spirit soared as she looked down upon over five hundred captives all sitting, heads hanging, hands tied on the dusty ground of the prisoner compound; guards wandered amongst them beating those who showed any sign of resistance. ‘What’s left of Antipatros’ kinsmen and bondsmen are languishing down there in defeat,’ she said, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘How sweet is that sight?’