Alexander: Child of a Dream (21 page)

 
well, but they had to accept a Macedonian garrison on their acropolis and the dissolving of the Boeotian League as they entered into Philip’s pan Hellenic alliance
Alexander was welcomed to Athens as an important guest and received full honours As a sign of gratitude for the merciful mission he had earned out and for the way in which the Macedonians had treated their prisoners, the council of Athens decreed that a public statue of him should be installed and the Prince had to pose for the great Athenian sculptor Protogenes, although he had once declared that only Lysippus would ever create his likeness
Demosthenes, still much loved by his fellow citizens despite the defeat, had been sent to Calauna, an island off the city of Troezen, so as to avoid any meeting that would have been embarrassing for both parties
Alexander understood and wisely avoided asking for news of Macedon’s rival His official duties over, he wanted to visit the Acropolis, the monuments of which Aristotle had praised so highly, showing him sketches
He climbed up there one morning after a storm the previous night and was dazzled by the splendour of the colours and the incredible beauty of the statues and the painting In the middle of the wide open space rose the Parthenon, crowned by its immense tympanum with the group of sculptures by Phidias representing the birth of Athena from Zeus’s forehead The statues were enormous and their postures followed the inch nation of the slopes of the roofs the ones standing up in the centre were the main characters and gradually moving out towards the exterior they appeared kneeling or lying down
They were all painted in bright colours and decorated with metallic elements in bronze and gold
Alongside the sanctuary, to the left of the entrance steps, stood a bronze statue by Phidias representing the armed goddess Athena with a golden-tipped spear in her hand the
first thing the Athenian sailors saw when they returned to the port after a voyage
But what Alexander most wanted to see was the gigantic statue of Athena inside the temple, also created by Phidias
Alexander entered quietly, respectful of the sacred place, the goddess’s dwelling, and there he found himself facing the colossus of gold and ivory, the wonders of which had been described to him ever since he was a child
The air inside the cella was saturated with the incense that the priests burned continuously in honour of the goddess and the room was immersed in half-shadow Thus the gold and the ivory of which the statue was made stood out even more their
magical reflections glimmering from the end of the double row of columns that supported the roof
The goddess’s weapons and her peplum stretching
down to her feet as
well as her helmet, spear and shield, were all of pure gold while her face, arms and feet were of ivory, in imitation of the colour of skin Her eyes were of mother of pearl and turquoise, which reproduced the blue-green gaze of the goddess
Her helmet bore three horse-mane plumes each dyed red -the central one supported by a Sphinx, the two lateral ones by Pegasuses In her right hand the goddess held an image of winged Victory, as big, he had been told, as a person, which meant that Athena’s statue must have been at least thirty-five feet in total height
Alexander stood there in raptures as he contemplated that splendour and he thought of the glory and the power of the city that had created it He considered the greatness of the men who had built theatres and sanctuaries, forged bronze and sculpted marble, painted frescoes of wondrous beauty He thought of the daring of the manners who for many years had enjoyed uncontested domination of the seas, of the philosophers who had expounded their truths along those luminous porticoes, of the poets and playwrights who had produced their tragedies for thousands of involved spectators

 
He felt himself swelling with admiration and feeling and then blushed with shame at the memory of the limping figure of Philip, his father, and his unspeakable victory dance among the dead of Chaeronaea.

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alexander visited the theatre of Dionysus at the foot of the Acropolis together with the buildings and monuments of the great square in which all of the city’s history was represented. But above all else it was the Decorated Colonnades the

 

huge series of frescoes inspired by the Persian Wars and painted by Polygnotus which

 

captured his imagination.

 

The Battle of Marathon was depicted with its famous heroic exploits, including a scene showing Phidippedes, the athlete who ran to Athens to announce the victory only to drop dead from exhaustion.

 

A little further on were the battles of the Second Persian War the

 

Athenians abandoning their city, fleeing to the island of Salamis from which they watched in tears as the Acropolis burned and the temples collapsed. And then the huge naval battle of Salamis in which the Athenian fleet had given the Persian navy a good hiding there

 

was the Great King himself fleeing in terror, followed by black clouds and gale-force winds.

 

Alexander would have liked to stay in that wonderful place, this treasure chest in which human genius had deposited its most precious cultural valuables, but duty and messages from his father called him back to Pella.

 

His mother Olympias had also written several times, congratulating him on the battle at Chaeronaea and telling him how much she missed him. Although she never fully explained her insistence in writing, Alexander understood intuitively that there must be something behind these letters, some new event, some

 

 
painful torment. He knew his mother well and could read between her lines.
So he left one day at the beginning of summer accompanied by his escort, heading in a northerly direction. They entered Boeotia at Tanagra, passed dose by Thebes one sultry afternoon, crossing the plain under the burning rays of the sun, and then rode along the shore of Lake Kopais, shrouded in a thick fog.
Now and then ghost-like herons, their wings flapping slowly, would cut through the mists that covered the swampy shores. The calls of invisible birds penetrated the damp heat like muffled shouts. Black drapes had been hung at the entrances to the villages and at the doors of the houses because war and death had struck many families, carrying off their loved ones.
He reached Chaeronaea at sunset the following day and the city seemed haunted, deserted under the dark sky of the new moon. Alexander found it impossible to conjure up any satisfactory image of Macedon’s recent victory there. The cries of the jackals and the hooting of the owls simply brought anguish in the long, nightmare-filled night he spent in the tent pitched in the shade of an enormous, solitary oak.
At Pella his father did not come to meet him because he was in Lyncestis to meet with the heads of the Illyrian tribes, and the young Prince slipped into the palace almost unnoticed, after sunset. Only Peritas came to greet him mad
with joy, he ran around, rolling on the ground, whining and wagging his tail and jumping up on his master and licking his face and hands.
A pat or two was all that was needed to make him happy and Alexander immediately went to his own apartments where Pancaspe was waiting for him.
The girl ran to Alexander and held him tightly, then she took off his dust-covered clothes and bathed him, her soft hands lingering in massaging his tired limbs. When Alexander left the bath she began to undress, but just then Leptine entered the room; her face was red and she lowered her eyes.
‘Olympias would like you to go to her as soon as possible,’ she said. ‘She hopes you might have supper with her.’
‘I will,’ replied Alexander. And while Leptine left the room he whispered to Pancaspe, ‘Wait for me.’
As soon as she saw him, the Queen pulled him to her in a frantic embrace.
‘What’s wrong, Mother?’ the young man asked as he moved away to take a look at her.
Olympias’ eyes were as unblinking and dark as the lakes in her mountain homeland. At that moment her gaze was an unbearably clear mirror of the violently contrasting passions that were boiling deep down in her soul.
She lowered her head and bit her lip.
‘What’s wrong, Mother?’ Alexander asked once more.
Olympias turned towards the window to hide her sorrow and her shame.
‘Your father has a lover.’
‘My father has seven wives. He is a passionate man and one woman alone has never been enough for him. What’s more… he is our King.’
‘But it’s different this time. He has fallen in love with a girl the same age as your sister.’
‘She’s not the first one. He’ll get over it.’
‘I’m telling you it’s different this time. He’s in love, he’s lost his mind. It’s just like …’ and she sighed deeply, ‘… it’s just like when we first met.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘A lot,’ replied Olympias. ‘The girl is pregnant by him and he wants to marry her.’
‘Who is she?’ asked Alexander, his expression darkening.
‘Eurydice, daughter of General Attalus. Do you see now why I’m so worried? Eurydice is Macedonian, from a noble family … she’s not a foreigner like me.’
‘That doesn’t mean a thing. You come from a family of kings, a descendant of Pyrrhus, son of Achilles and of Andromache, Hector’s bride.’
‘Wishful thinking, my son. Let’s suppose the girl gives birth to a boy …’

 
Alexander was speechless, assailed by a sudden feeling of dread.
‘Explain what you mean exactly. Tell me what you think -no one can hear us.’
‘Let’s suppose Philip repudiates me and declares Eurydice Queen, something which is within his power: Eurydice’s son becomes the legitimate heir and you are the bastard, the son of the repudiated foreigner.’
‘But why should he? My father has always loved me, he has always wanted the best for me. He has had me groomed for the throne.’
‘You don’t understand. A beautiful, determined young girl can completely upset the mind of a mature man, and a newborn baby will attract all of his attention because it will make him feel young again. A new son will reverse the inexorable passage of time.’
Alexander was dumbstruck, and it was clear his mother’s words had upset him deeply.
He sat on a chair and rested his forehead on his left hand, as though trying to collect his thoughts. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘I really don’t know,’ the Queen admitted. ‘I am indignant, humiliated, furious over this affront he has inflicted upon me. If only I were a man …’
‘I am a man,’ Alexander said.
‘But you are his son.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing. The humiliation I must endure is driving me out of my mind.’
‘Well … in your opinion what should I do?’
‘Nothing. There is nothing to be done now. But I wanted to tell you, to put you on your guard, because from now onwards anything might happen.’
‘Is she really such a beauty?’
Olympias lowered her head and it was clear how painful it was for her to reply to this question. ‘More than you can possibly imagine. And her father Attalus made sure Philip found her in his bed. It’s clear he has a definite plan and has many members of the Macedonian nobility on his side. They hate me, I know.’
Alexander stood to take his leave.
‘Don’t you want to stay for supper? I’ve had them cook things for you, all your favourite things.’
‘I’m not hungry, Mother. And I am tired. Excuse me. We’ll see each other soon. Try not to worry about this too much. I really don’t think there’s much that can be done for the moment.’
This conversation with his mother left him shattered. The idea that his father could suddenly eliminate him from his thoughts and from his plans had never occurred to him, and he would never have expected it at a moment when he was receiving just praise for his crucial role in the great victory at Chaeronaea and in leading the delicate diplomatic mission to Athens.
To chase these unsettling thoughts away he went down to the stables to see Bucephalas and the horse immediately recognized his voice, stamping and neighing. The stall was in perfect order and smelled of fresh hay. The animal’s coat was shining, its mane and its tail brushed as carefully as a girl’s hair. Alexander moved closer and embraced the animal, stroking his neck and muzzle.
‘So you’re back finally!’ came a voice behind him. ‘I knew you’d be here. Well? How does Bucephalas look? See how I’ve taken care of him? Just as if he were a beautiful woman. I promised I’d do it.’
‘Hephaestion, it’s you!’
The young man moved towards his Prince and gave him a clap on the back. ‘You rogue, I’ve missed you.’
Alexander returned the gesture. ‘I’ve missed you too, Horsethief!’

 
They threw themselves into each other’s arms and embraced long and hard, harder than friendship, than time, than death. That night Pancaspe waited for him in vain.
Philip came back a few days later and straight away called Alexander to his rooms where he embraced him warmly as soon as he entered.
‘By the gods you look fine! How did things go for you in Athens?’ But he immediately sensed his son’s unease in returning the affection.
‘What’s wrong, my boy? Those Athenians haven’t made you lily-livered with all their culture, have they? Or have you fallen in love? Oh, by Hercules, you don’t mean to say you’ve fallen in love? Ha! I arrange the most expert of “companions” and he falls in love with … with who? A beautiful Athenian? Don’t say a word … I know, there’s nothing to match Athenian charm. Ah, yes, this is a good one, I’ll have to tell Parmenion all about this.’
‘I haven’t fallen in love, Father. But I hear you have.’
Philip suddenly froze for a moment and then began pacing the room with long strides. ‘Your mother! Your mother!’ he exclaimed. ‘She’s resentful, consumed by jealousy and by bad faith. And now she’s trying to turn you against me. That’s what’s happening, isn’t it?’
‘You have another woman,’ Alexander stated coldly.
‘And so? She’s not the first and she won’t be the last. She’s a rose … as beautiful as the sun … like Aphrodite. Even more beautiful! I found her naked in my arms two
tits like ripe pears, her body soft, hairless and perfumed, and she opened her legs for me. What was I supposed to do? Your mother hates me, she detests me, she’d spit on me every time she sees me if she thought she could get away with it! And then this girl is as sweet as honey.’
He let himself collapse into a chair and with a rapid flick of his wrist pulled his cloak over his knees, a sure sign he was furious.
‘I can’t hold you to account for who you take to bed, Sire.’
‘Stop calling me “Sire” … we’re alone here!’
‘But this time my mother feels humiliated, rejected, and she is worried.’
‘I get it!’ shouted Philip. ‘I understand! She really is trying to turn you against me. And with no good reason. Come, come with me! Come and see the surprise I’d prepared for you before you ruined my day with this nonsense. Come on!’
He dragged Alexander down a stairway and then to the end of a corridor, near the various workshops of the palace. He threw open a door and almost pushed his son inside.
‘Look!’
Alexander found himself in the middle of a room illuminated by a large window to one side. Sitting on a table was a round clay sculpture, a circular relief depicting him in profile and with a crown of laurel around his head, like the god Apollo.
‘Do you like it?’ asked a voice from a dark corner.
‘Lysippus!’ exclaimed Alexander, turning suddenly to embrace the artist.
‘Do you like it?’ repeated Philip behind him.
‘But what is it?’
‘It’s the model for a stater, for a gold coin of the realm of Macedon which will be minted from tomorrow onwards as a memorial to your victory at Chaeronaea and your role as heir to the throne. Ten thousand of them will be struck and it will circulate throughout the world,’ replied the King.
Alexander lowered his head in bewilderment.