away.
Alexander realized that something terrible was happening by the shocked expression on the faces of the audience. He turned round just an instant after his father had been stabbed and saw his face, suddenly pale like the gods’ ivory masks. He saw Philip teeter and hold his side as the blood flowed freely and stained the white cloak.
Behind Philip a man ran off in the direction of the meadows along the road. Alexander hurried towards his father who was falling to his knees now, and Alexander of Epirus ran past them shouting, ‘Stop that man!’
Alexander reached Philip before he collapsed into the dust
and he held him while the blood flowed strong and red, wetting his clothes, his arms and his hands.
‘Father!’ he shouted as the sobs came, and he held him tight. ‘Father, no!’ and Philip felt his son’s burning tears on his bloodless cheeks.
The sky above him burst into a myriad of bright points of light and then, suddenly, it all went dark. At that moment he saw himself once more at the very centre of a room immersed in darkness while he held a newborn baby to his chest. He felt the smooth skin of the little one against his bristly cheek, felt the baby’s lips on his scar-furrowed shoulder and in the air there was an intense perfume of Pierian roses. Then he sank into darkness and silence.
38
the assassin, breathless, ran towards a thicket where other men were waiting for him with a horse, obviously accomplices, who galloped off in their turn as soon as they saw that he was being followed.
The man, alone now, turned round and realized they were closing in on him. Alexander of Epirus had thrown off his cloak and was running with his sword drawn and held high in the air, shouting, ‘Take him alive! Take him alive!’
He started running again, as fast as he could this time, and then, just a few strides away from his horse, he attempted a flying mount but tripped on the root of a vine and went crashing to the ground. He got up immediately, but the guards were already on him and they ran him through many times, killing him instantly.
As soon as the King of Epirus saw what they had done he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘You idiots! I told you to take him alive!’
‘But, Sire, he was armed and he tried to attack us.’
‘Follow the others!’ ordered the King. ‘Follow the others at least and get hold of them!’
By this time Alexander had arrived as well, his clothes still stained with Philip’s blood. He looked at the assassin and then at the King of Epirus and said, ‘I knew him. His name was Pausanias and he was one of my father’s bodyguards. Undress him, hang him from a pole at the entrance to the theatre and leave him there to rot until there’s nothing left but bones.’
In the meantime a crowd had formed around the body
onlookers, men of the royal guard, army officers and foreign guests.
Alexander immediately returned to the theatre, which was rapidly emptying now, and there he found Cleopatra, still wearing her wedding dress, sobbing in despair over their father’s body. Eumenes, standing not far off, his own eyes full of tears and one hand over his mouth, shook his head continually as though simply unable to take in what had happened. There was still no sign of Queen Olympias who had been expected since that morning.
Alexander had the fall-in signal sounded for all the combat units in the surrounding area, then he gave orders to remove his father’s body and to prepare for the funeral rites. He had Cleopatra accompanied to her apartments and requested that armour be found for himself and for his brother-in-law.
‘Eumenes!’ he shouted, rousing his friend from his state of shock. ‘Find the royal seal and bring it to me. And send messengers immediately for Hephaestion, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Seleucus and the others I
want them all here by tomorrow evening.’
The armourers arrived shortly afterwards and the two young men put on their breastplates and greaves, strapped their swords and scabbards on and set off through the crowd, followed by a group of select troops, to occupy the palace. All the members of the royal family were put under strict guard in their quarters, with the exception of Amyntas who appeared dressed in his armour and ready to follow Alexander’s orders: ‘You can count on me and my loyalty. I want no more blood to be spilled.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Alexander. ‘I will not forget this gesture.’
The gates of the city were occupied by groups of shieldsmen and cavalry units. Philotas voluntarily reported to the palace and immediately asked for his orders.
Halfway through the afternoon, Alexander, flanked by the King of Epirus and his cousin Amyntas, appeared before the assembled army. He was armed and dressed in a royal cloak and crown. The message was loud and clear.
The officers had the trumpets sound and the men shouted their salute:
‘Hail, Alexander, King of Macedon!’
Then, at another signal, they started banging their spears against their shields, so that the porticoes of the palace resounded with a deafening clangour.
Having received the salute from the assembled divisions, Alexander gave orders for Bucephalas to be prepared and made ready for departure. Then he summoned Eumenes and Callisthenes, who had also been present at the ceremony.
‘Eumenes, you will take care of my father. Make sure he is washed and embalmed so that his body is well preserved until the funeral, which you yourself will organize. And you will receive my mother, should she arrive. Call an architect and have work begin as soon as possible on the royal tomb.
‘Callisthenes, you will stay here and find out everything you can about the assassin. Look for his friends, his accomplices, try to find out where he went and what he did in the hours before the killing. Interrogate the guards who killed the assassin against my brother-in-law’s orders. If necessary, use torture.’
Eumenes came forward and handed a small casket to Alexander: ‘The royal seal, Sire.’
Alexander took it, opened it and slipped the ring onto his finger. ‘Do you love me, Eumenes? Are you loyal to me?’
‘Of course, Sire.’
‘In that case you must continue to call me Alexander.’
He went out into the parade ground, leaped astride Bucephalas and, leaving a garrison at Aegae under Philotas’ orders, left with his brother-in-law for Pella to take possession of the throne and to demonstrate to the court nobles that he was the new King.
At that stage of the fateful day the theatre was completely empty. Only the statues of the gods remained, abandoned on their pedestals, and, in the diminishing light of the sunset, the statue of Philip whose expression had the same fixed stare as a forgotten divinity.
Suddenly, as darkness began to fall, a shadow seemed to appear from nowhere a
man, his head covered by the hood of his cloak, entered the deserted arena and spent a long time examining the bloodstain that was still there on the ground. Then he turned back and passed through the archway adjacent to the stage. His eyes were drawn to a metal object, bloody and half-hidden in the sand. He bent over to study it with his small, grey, darting eyes, then he picked it up and hid it away among the folds of his cloak.
He proceeded out into the open and stopped in front of the pole to which the assassin’s body had been nailed. Everything was wrapped in darkness now and out of it came a voice behind him:
‘Uncle Aristotle, I never imagined I’d find you here.’ ‘Callisthenes. A day that was supposed to have been so full of joy has ended up in such sadness.’
‘Alexander had hoped to see you once again, but so much has happened so quickly …”
‘I know. I am sorry too. Where is he now?’ ‘He is on horseback, leading his troops towards Pella. He wants to make sure there is no possibility of a coup on the part of some groups in the nobility. But what are you doing here? This is not an edifying sight.’
‘Regicide is always a critical point in human events. And, as far as I have heard, there was a premonition from the oracle at Delphi: “Wreathed is the bull. All is done. Ready is the one who will smite him.”’ And then, turning to Pausanias’ mutilated body, ‘Here he is, the one who smote the bull. Who would have thought that this was the meaning of the prophecy!’
‘Alexander has asked me to investigate the crime,’ said Callisthenes, ‘to try to discover who was behind the assassination of his father.’ Far off in the distance, from the sanctums of the palace, came the lugubrious wailing of the mourners crying for the death of the King. ‘Would you like to help me?’ Callisthenes asked. ‘Everything seems so absurd.’
‘That is the key to the crime,’ affirmed Aristotle. ‘Its very absurdity. Why on earth choose such a public form an
assassination in a theatre, like a scene in a tragedy interpreted in real life, with real blood and …” he pulled something from the folds of his cloak, “… a real knife. A Celtic dagger, to be precise.’ ‘An unusual weapon … but I see that you have already begun your investigation.’
‘Curiosity is the key to knowledge. What do you know about him?’ he asked, indicating the body again.
‘Very little. His name was Pausanias and he was from Lyncestis, originally. He had been recruited to the King’s bodyguard because of his physical prowess.’
‘Unfortunately he won’t be able to tell us anything, and this is surely part of the plan. Have you interrogated the soldiers who killed him?’
‘One or two, but I didn’t get much from them. They all maintain they didn’t hear King Alexander’s order not to kill him. The shock of Philip’s death had made them furious, they were in a blind rage and as soon as he showed the slightest sign of trying to defend himself, they massacred him.’
‘It’s a credible story, but it’s probably not true. Where is the King of Epirus?’
‘He left with Alexander, they’re on their way to Pella together.’
‘So he has relinquished his first night with his bride.’ ‘For two reasons, both of them understandable: to support his brother-in-law at this critical juncture in the succession, and as a mark of respect for Cleopatra’s bereavement.’
Aristotle brought a finger up to his mouth as a signal to his nephew to keep quiet. The sound of a horse galloping reached them ever more distinctly as it came nearer.
‘Let’s move,’ said the philosopher. ‘Let’s get away from here. Whoever believes himself to be unobserved behaves more naturally.’
The sound of the gallop changed into the gentle rhythmic steps of a horse at a walk and then it stopped altogether. A figure draped in black leaped to the ground, walked forward
until it stood in front of the corpse nailed to the pole, and then pulled back the hood of its cloak to reveal a fine head of wavy hair.
‘Gods above! It’s Olympias!’ whispered Callisthenes in his uncle’s ear.
The Queen moved closer still, pulled something from the folds of her cloak and then stood up on tiptoes in front of the body. When she turned round to join her escort again, there was a garland of flowers around Pausanias’ neck.
‘Oh, by Zeus!’ Callisthenes said. ‘But then this means …’
‘You think you know what it all means?’ Aristotle shook his head. ‘It’s not so clear at all. If she had commissioned the assassination do you think she would have made such a gesture in front of her escort, well knowing that someone was probably keeping Pausanias’ corpse under surveillance?’
‘But if she’s aware of all this, then she might behave in such an absurd way precisely to lead whoever is investigating to dismiss her on these very grounds.’
‘This is true, but it is always wiser to attempt to discover the motives that may have pushed a suspect to commit a crime rather than quiz oneself on what that person thinks other people are thinking,’ observed Aristotle. ‘Find me a lamp or a torch and let’s go to the place where Pausanias was killed.’
‘But wouldn’t it be best to wait for the light of day?’
‘Too many things might happen before dawn. I’ll wait for you down there.’
The philosopher set off towards the wood of oak and elm that was near the place where the assassin had been massacred.
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hephaestion, ptolemy, Seleucus and Perdiccas, all four dressed in their armour, arrived tired and dripping with sweat as darkness fell. They gave their horses to the attendants and quickly went up the stairs of the palace to the council chamber where Alexander was waiting for them.
Leonnatus and Lysimachus were to arrive the following day because they were travelling all the way from Larissa, in Thessaly.
A guard let them all into the chamber where the lamps had already been lit and Alexander was already waiting together with Philotas, General Antipater, Alexander of Epirus, Amyntas and some commanders of the phalanx battalions and the Companions cavalry. All of them, including the King, were wearing their armour and they kept their helmets and their swords at hand on the table in front of them a
sure sign that the situation was still critical.
Alexander, visibly moved, came towards them. ‘My friends … finally we are back together again.’
Hephaestion spoke for all of them: ‘We are deeply sorry for the death of King Philip and our grief is most strong. We no longer resent the exile he inflicted upon us. We remember him as a great King, the most valiant of soldiers and the wisest of rulers. He was like a father to us strict
and unyielding, but also generous and capable of most noble gestures. We grieve for him most sincerely. It has been a terrible event, but now you must take his inheritance in hand, and we recognize you as his successor and as our King.’
This short speech over, Hephaestion walked to Alexander and kissed him on both cheeks, as did all the others. Then he saluted King Alexander of Epirus and those officers present and they all took seats around the table.
