Each evening a handful of us were picked to stand guard during Philip’s nightly banquet, which inevitably turned into a wine-soaked drunken circus. It was no surprise to me when Pausanias told me I would be on duty the night after my meeting with Olympias and Alexandros. What did surprise was that when Philip struggled up from his couch and lurched drunkenly toward his bed chamber, he crooked his finger at me to accompany him.
For the flash of an instant I felt a pang of fear, but then I told myself that I was not the kind of young boy that the king sometimes took to bed. And I certainly was not a shapely young wench. He wasn’t that drunk.
As I followed him up the winding stone stairs to his bed chamber, I realized that he was not drunk at all. He limped on his bad leg and he leaned on the stone wall of the staircase for support, but he was able to climb the stairs unassisted otherwise.
Two young male servants were waiting in the bed chamber.
“Have you had any supper?” Philip asked me gruffly.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Before coming on duty.”
“Very well.” He dismissed the servants with a wave of his hand, then sat wearily on the bed.
And he smiled at me, a wry, crooked smile. “That’s the way I learn what my closest companions are thinking, Orion. I listen to what they say when they’re drunk.”
“I see.”
“You’ve been with the queen.” It was a statement, not a question. I realized that the entire palace was honeycombed with spies and counterspies and people who spied for both the king and the queen.
“It was not my choice,” I said.
He grunted and leaned down to pull off his sandals. I went to help him but he waved me away. “I’m not as helpless as some people think,” he muttered. Then he looked up at me. “She can entrance a man, I know. Her and those damned snakes of hers.”
I said nothing.
“She’s a witch, all right. I should have drowned her instead of marrying her.”
“She bore you a fine son.”
“That she did. And now she poisons his mind against me.”
“She intends to assassinate you,” I blurted.
Strangely, he laughed. “Does she now? Indeed!”
“Truly,” I said.
“She’s been intending that since Alexandros was born. Just waiting for the right moment.”
“I think she will try soon.”
He sat in silence for a few moments, the bedside lamp flickering shadows across his face. Then Philip shook his head. “Not yet. The boy’s still too young. Never be elected king in his own right. Not yet.”
“Are you certain?”
He wiped his beard with the back of his hand. Hunching closer to me, he said, “Orion, I have lived with the threat of assassination all my life. I surround myself with loyal men, and work hard to make certain they remain loyal. I change my royal guard often enough to make sure that no man stays so long as to be bewitched by her.”
I leaned back slightly, away from him. “As I have been,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid you can no longer be a member of my guard. Or of Alexandros’. I’m going to have to send you out of the palace altogether.”
“But I want to protect you.”
Philip cocked a skeptical brow at me. “Yes, I believe you do. But she will get you to do her bidding, sooner or later, one way or the other.”
I had no answer to that. He was probably right. “I still value your service, Orion. I have an important task for you to do.”
“What is it?”
“I’m sending this ambassador from the Persians, the one with the unpronounceable name—”
“Svertaketu,” I said.
“Yes, the one you found with Demosthenes. I’m sending him back to the Great King with a message from me. I want you to head the escort I send with him.”
“I would rather stay here to protect you,” I said.
“That cannot be.”
I bowed my head slightly to show I understood.
“In case you’re curious, my message to the Great King is a peaceful one.”
“I thought it would be.”
“I want to assure him that I have no desire to make war on his empire. I will offer one of my family women in marriage to one of his male relatives. I want peace.”
Before I could say anything he went on, “But—a king can’t always get what he wants. I’ve created an army and I don’t intend to see it rust away, or turn into an instrument for my generals to use against one another.”
“Then what do you intend?”
“I want the Great King to understand that the islands in the Aegean are Greek, not Persian. Lesbos, Samos and the others were settled by Greeks centuries ago, they must be free of Persian overlords. And the cities on the Ionian coast, too: Miletos, Ephesos—those are Greek cities and should be as independent as Athens or Corinth or any other Greek city.”
“Will the Great King agree to that?”
Philip smiled grimly. “Not without a fight, I’m certain. But I want him to be the one who starts the war. Then we’ll have all the cities of the Greeks with us, instead of them taking Persian gold to work against us.”
“But you said you wanted peace.”
“And so I do!”
“Yet you make conditions that will lead to war.”
He scratched at his beard briefly. “Does it seem strange to you that war can lead to peace?”
“No stranger than the fact that a rainstorm leads to sunshine.”
His black eyebrows rose. “Aristotle’s turned you into a philosopher, eh?”
“Hardly.”
“Well, listen to a king’s reasoning. We’ve beaten Athens and her allies. For the time being they’re lying low, worrying about what I plan for them, surprised that I didn’t occupy the city with my troops.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Now then, if the Great King refuses to let the Greek cities and islands have their freedom, if he sends his army into Ionia or his fleet to Lesbos, don’t you think the Athenians and all the others will rally to me, as the protector of those Greeks on the other side of the Aegean?”
I began to see what he was driving at.
He chuckled at me. “Ah, you do understand, don’t you? By maneuvering the Great King to make war, I cement the loyalties of Athens and Thebes and all the rest.”
“For a while.”
“For long enough, perhaps.”
“And what of Alexandros?” I asked. “He doesn’t want merely to free a few cities. He wants to conquer the whole Persian Empire. And then go on from there.”
Philip’s grin dissolved. “My hotheaded son must learn that one doesn’t always get what one wants.”
I looked at that fiercely bearded face. “And what do you want?” I asked. “Truly, what is it that you desire? Not the king, but you, Philip, son of Amyntas. What is your heart’s dearest wish?”
Philip did not respond for long moments. He seemed to be almost startled by the question. I guessed that he had been thinking as a king and a military commander for so many years that his own individual desires had long been hidden, even from himself.
At last he replied, “I want them to respect me. Those sophisticated men of good manners and high talk in Athens and Thebes and the other ancient cities. Those self-righteous demagogues who could never bring all the Greeks together in peace. I know what they call me: barbarian, savage, bloodthirsty dog. I want them to respect me; my power, my leadership, my restraint and mercy in dealing with them.”
He took a deep breath, then went on, “I want her to respect me. I know that she only pretended to love me so she could get a son who would one day be king. All right, he will be king! But only because I have paved his way. Yet she calls me horse breeder, cattle thief, she says I stink of the stables and I think like a primitive tribesman from the hills.”
Stretching out a battle-scarred arm, Philip said, “I built this city for her, Orion. I welded this nation together and made it powerful for her. And she sees it only as a chariot for her son to ride in. But that’s why I did it. That’s what I want: respect. I don’t expect love from any of them, not even her, but I want their respect.”
“You certainly deserve it.”
Pushing himself up from the bed, Philip raised his hands over his head and cried out, “Look at me! I’m not even fifty years old and I’m half-crippled, half-blind, waiting for an assassin’s knife or my own wife’s poison. I’ve given my life to make something new and enduring, a nation of many tribes, many cities. No one has done that, Orion! No one in all of Greece. But I have, and I’ll keep working at it because the instant I stop it will all fall apart. There’s no end to my labors, no end except death.”