I decided that he wanted the truth. And so did I.
“He thinks that perhaps you did,” I blurted.
“Wha—” His face went white with sudden anger. He gripped the armrests of his chair as if he were going to leap to his feet.
But the fury drained out of him almost immediately. I watched him battle to control his emotions. I saw that he was shocked by the accusation, and not because his son had hit on the truth. Philip had not tried to kill his son. And now that his immediate wave of anger had passed he looked sorrowful to be falsely accused.
“That’s his mother’s doing,” he grumbled. “She’s always poisoning his mind against me.”
I said nothing. But I realized that the assassination attempt might well have been Olympias’ doing. The assassins had plenty of time to cut Alexandros down, and his Companions with him. Instead, all they did was to drive a wedge of suspicion between the prince and his father.
“She’s a witch, Orion,” he told me. “Entranced me when we first met. At the Dionysian rites on Samothrace. I was just about Alexandros’ age and I fell completely mad for her. The most beautiful woman on earth, that was sure. And she seemed to love me just as wildly as I loved her. Once she had the boy, though, she wanted nothing more to do with me.”
She is more than a witch, I thought. She is the avatar of a goddess, or perhaps the goddess herself in human guise, with powers that could destroy us all at a whim.
“She scorns me, Orion, and plots with her son to get him the throne.”
“Alexandros wants to be a good son to you,” I told him. “He wants to be worthy of your throne.”
Philip smiled crookedly. “He wants to sit on my throne, and the only way he can do that is to kill me.”
“No,” I said. “I see nothing of that in him. He wants to show you that he’s worthy. He wants your approval.”
“Does he?”
“Despite all that his mother has poured into his ears, he admires you.”
“Does he acknowledge that I’m his father?”
So he knows about Alexandros’ personal mythology, I realized.
Aloud, I replied, “Boyish ego. He doesn’t believe it himself.”
Philip cast his good eye on me. “I wonder.” He pulled the cloak tighter around him. “I wonder if maybe it’s all true. Maybe Herakles or some god did beget him. Maybe he’s not my true son, after all.”
“No god begat him, sir,” I said. “There are no gods. Only men and women.”
“Sokrates was given hemlock on the accusation of not believing in the gods.” He smiled again as he said it.
I smiled back. “If you poisoned everyone who did not believe in the gods, you would run out of hemlock long before the job was half finished.”
He chuckled. “You jest, Orion. Yet it seems to me that you are serious, at the same time.”
How could I tell him that the so-called gods and goddesses were as human as he was? The faint memory of them seethed in my mind: the deities were men and women from that city of my dreams, the city that existed in another time from this.
He mistook my silence. “You needn’t fear, Orion. Your beliefs are safe with me.”
“May I make a suggestion, sir?”
“What is it?”
“Keep the boy close to you. Don’t allow him to see his mother—”
“That’s easier said than done, unless I chain him up like a dog.”
“The more he is with you the less his mother can influence him. Take him with you on campaign. Let him show his mettle before your eyes.”
Philip cocked his head, as if giving my suggestion some thought. Then he tapped a forefinger against the cheekbone below his empty eye socket.
“I only have one eye, Orion. But perhaps you’re right. I’ll bring the lad come on campaign with me.”
“Another campaign?”
His expression went grim. “The damned Athenians are negotiating with Thebes and several other cities to form a league against me. I’ve never wanted to fight Athens directly, and I certainly don’t want to tangle with Thebes. But now it looks as if I’ll have to face them both together.”