The city was still being built, I saw as we rode closer. Houses and temples were being constructed from stone and masonry; before us as we approached was a large theater carved into the hillside. Up on the highest ground stood a cluster of columned buildings of polished granite: Philip’s palace, Pausanias informed me.
“It’s big,” I said, meaning the palace.
“The biggest city I’ve ever seen,” said Pausanias.
“You haven’t seen Athens,” came a voice from behind us.
Turning on my mount I saw it was Alexandros, golden hair shining in the morning sun, eyes aflame with inner passion.
“Athens is built in marble, not this gray, dull granite,” he said. His voice was sharp, high-pitched. “Thebes, Corinth—even Sparta is more beautiful than this pile of rocks.”
“When were you in Athens?” Pausanias asked icily. “Or Thebes. Or Corinth. Or—”
Alexandros shot him a glance of pure fury and darted past us, his black Ox-Head kicking dust in our faces as he galloped away.
Pausanias spat. “To hear him talk, you’d think he’s been around the whole world in a chariot.”
Half a moment later Alexandros’ Companions dashed past and we got more dust in our mouths.
When we stopped for the noon meal Pausanias made us clean up our gear. Grooms brushed our horses, slaves polished our armor. We trooped into the city bright and shining, and the citizens of Pella came out into the streets to welcome us with flowers and warm shouts of victory. I did not feel particularly victorious, and my dream still troubled me. I wondered if there were anyone in the city whom I could trust to interpret the dream without denouncing me as a traitor for even dreaming of slaying the king.
Philip rode in our midst, and the people showered him with flowers and cheers. From what I had heard among the soldiers, when Philip had become king, less than twenty years ago, Macedonia was being carved up by its neighbors. Now Macedonia had either conquered those neighbors or forced them into alliances. Philip was so successful that his capital needed no wall around it. Now he was struggling to make himself master of all the region, from the Illyrians along the Adriatic Sea to the Byzantines on the Bosporus, from wild northern tribes along the Ister River to the mighty cities of Thebes and Corinth and even Athens herself.
There was even talk of invading Asia, once the issue with Athens was settled, to free the Greek cities of Ionia and pluck the beard of the Persian High King.
Up the wide main thoroughfare of Pella we rode, enjoying the crowd’s welcome, until we passed through the gates of the palace wall. At home now, Philip prodded his horse to the front and thus was the first to arrive at the steps of the palace.
Standing at the top of the gray stone stairs, proud and regal, her flame-red hair tied up in spirals that made her seem even taller than she was naturally, her royal gown purest white with shimmering crimson borders, her incredibly beautiful face haughty and imperious, stood the woman from my dream who had called herself Hera.
I gaped at her.
“Close your mouth, Orion,” whispered Pausanias harshly. “That’s the queen you’re staring at: Olympias.”
It was Hera.
And she recognized me. She looked past Philip, who was stumping painfully up the stairs. I realized for the first time that in addition to all the other wounds he had suffered, Philip was nearly crippled. But that is not what stunned me. It was Olympias. Hera. She looked straight at me and gave me an icy shadow of a smile. Her blood-red lips moved ever so slightly, mouthing a single word:
“Orion.”
She knew me. My dream had not been a dream, after all.
CHAPTER 6
Somehow I was not surprised when I was told that the queen commanded me to appear in her presence.
Most of the royal guard were young Macedonian nobles; once we were relieved of duty they quickly dispersed to their homes and families. Only those few of us foreigners or men who had no house in Pella remained in the barracks.
We were quartered in one of the buildings adjacent to the palace, where slaves of all ages and both sexes bustled about to make us comfortable. Our quarters were almost luxurious, for a barracks. There were good beds in a wide room with strong rafters holding up a wooden ceiling. Plenty of room for us to stretch out. The room was well-aired, too, with windows that looked out on the parade ground.