An empty throne, p.35
An Empty Throne, page 35
She responded with a faint sigh and a suppressed sob. ‘I will, my love, and I’ll do it with great joy.’ She leaned her forehead against his and managed to raise her eyes to look into his. ‘I’ll go now; now I can see a purpose to my life after you’ve gone I shall be able to carry on.’
‘I could ask for no more.’ He got to his feet and helped her to hers.
Artonis brushed his lips with a finger. ‘Goodbye, and wait for me.’
‘I will. I’ll be there on the other side.’
She walked past him and knocked on the door. Eumenes did not turn to watch her go.
He heard the bars come off; a shaft of light flooded into the room.
‘No,’ Artonis said as she walked out.
Eumenes braced himself for the final journey he had seen so many make before him; he felt his head, he did not want to lose it. He could see it in his mind’s eye rolling across the floor; he wished there could be some other way, poison, perhaps.
Footsteps came up behind him.
‘You are to execute me?’ he asked.
‘We are, sir.’
The respect in the man’s voice surprised him. ‘Then let’s get this over.’ Still without looking round, he knelt. ‘Give me a few moments.’ He drew breath and composed himself. I may not have been able to save the destruction of the royal house but I hope I shall have contributed to the destruction of its destroyer. Go with all my love, Artonis.
With his heart beating fast enough to make him light-headed, he exposed his neck.
‘That won’t be necessary, sir,’ his executioner said from behind him. ‘Stay as you were.’
The noose slipped over his head and he almost felt grateful to Antigonos even though he had meant it to be a crueller death than by the sword: he would keep his body intact.
As the handle of the garrotte turned, twisting the rope ever tighter, Eumenes did not struggle; now his time of struggling was at an end and he accepted it. He was satisfied that during his life he had done all in his power to repay his debt to Alexander and his father, Philip, before him, for raising him to such heights. And as the last breath was squeezed from his lungs and his mind floated away, his final conscious thought was of gratitude to the Argead royal house of Macedon, the house that had been so abominably and unaccountably betrayed by Thessalonike.
THESSALONIKE.
THE HALF-SISTER.
IT WAS DONE; the assembly had been called and the hearing was now in session. Thessalonike stood at a high window in the royal palace of Pydna, to the west of the city, looking over to the two hundred men sitting in the agora, three hundred paces away, who were listening to testimony from the victims of Olympias’ time as regent. The maze of streets surrounding it and leading down to the port, crammed with shipping, were all still bustling with victorious soldiers spending their long-overdue back-pay on the usual vices: women, boys and alcohol in the many taverns and brothels to be expected in a harbour town. It had been Thessalonike’s idea to give the troops their back-pay on the first day of Olympias’ trial. It was imperative to keep the men occupied whilst the mother of Alexander was, hopefully, condemned to death as there was much awe and respect for her still in the ranks. Judging by the chaos throughout the town, the men were far too busy enjoying themselves to worry about what was occurring in the agora.
With a sense of deep satisfaction, she turned away from the view and sat back down at her desk to read the reports sent to her husband-to-be from the armies besieging Pella and Amphipolis. It had been easy to persuade Kassandros to allow her access to the paperwork, as easy as getting him to take her advice about the back-pay and also not to allow Olympias a right of reply at her trial before the assembly. Indeed, getting Kassandros to do anything for her was easy for he was in love with her to a depth she could not fathom. And that being so meant she could do no wrong nor be denied anything, and thus she had pushed herself to the very heart of power.
The hardest part of putting Olympias on trial had been to assemble enough of Macedon’s aristocracy in Pydna, with so many of them still holding out with either Aristonous in Amphipolis or Monimus in Pella. However, it had been managed using families from Kassandros’ family’s heartlands – and the clans affiliated to them – and then others who had previously supported Olympias – or, at least, the Argead royal house – and could see which way the politics of the country was heading. They had made the simple choice of self-preservation over loyalty.
Thessalonike frowned as she read the report from Amphipolis by a spy within Aristonous’ garrison. It was completely different to the despatch received the day before from Crateuas, the general commanding the siege. He had stated he had pressed two attacks on the city’s walls, whereas the spy reported nothing had been done as yet other than make camp before the gates and dig a few ditches as a defence against sorties; the fact the report had reached Pydna was proof indeed of the porousness of the siege. Resolving to speak to Kassandros about the lack of development in the north, she took up Atarrhias’ report from Pella which showed better progress – the city had been surrounded and the inlet leading to its harbour blocked; it was now completely cut off and destined to slow starvation. Excellent. Soon Macedon will be ours, and from here who knows how far we could go. Now the sea lanes are opening up it’s time to start preparing the ground. She picked up a pen and a blank wax tablet but paused before she began the letter to frame it in her mind. Now, Eumenes, how best to convince you we should still be the best of friends, if you emerge victorious from the east?
It was Kassandros who interrupted her train of thought as she reached the climax of her appeal to the little Greek who had always supported her family but might not now approve of her actions; but, as ever, she did not mind the interruption. In truth, she was becoming rather attached to her little pet, as she liked to think of him, although what she had researched of his sexual habits implied he would be anything but that once she let him into her bed. That was something to endure in the future, though, once they were married, and that was a day she knew she could no longer postpone once Olympias had met her fate.
She looked up and smiled at Kassandros as he walked from the door and sat down across the desk opposite her. ‘I thought you were at the assembly.’
‘I was. What are you doing?’ Kassandros asked, his eyes looking more at her breasts than her face or the letter before her.
‘Writing a letter,’ she replied, putting her pen down.
‘To whom?’
There’s no need to let him in on all my secrets. ‘My half-sister, Kleopatra,’ she lied. ‘I want her to formally recognise our union.’ As if she ever would, her hatred of Kassandros being rivalled only by her mother’s.
‘Do you think she will?’
‘One can but ask.’
Kassandros scratched the stubble on his pockmarked cheek and nodded. ‘I suppose so. It would be a propaganda coup for us if she did, but I can’t see it happening.’
Thessalonike shrugged. ‘I’ll write the letter anyway.’
‘You do that.’
Again this was addressed to her breasts rather than her face, but she was used to it now, and had come to find it stimulating. She had always enjoyed her breasts getting a goodly amount of attention in bed and had begun to hope – forlornly, perhaps – Kassandros would prove a caring lover in that area. ‘What is it you want, Kassandros?’
‘Hmm, oh, good news.’ He raised his gaze to the nearest he could get to meeting her eye; on the occasions he managed he would blush a bright red, almost matching his hair. ‘Philip and Pleistarchos have just ridden in, bringing Monimus with them; that’s what called me away from the assembly. He has surrendered Pella. He did so as soon as he heard Olympias was to be tried by the assembly.’
‘Very sensible of him.’
‘Atarrhias occupied the city at dusk, yesterday. The twins rode through the night to give me the news as soon as possible and to take Monimus’ surrender in person.’
‘He could be useful for us. Where is he?’
‘Dead, of course; I had him executed immediately.’
Thessalonike bunched her fists and closed her eyes. I must try not to call him a fool; I need to choose my words carefully. ‘Really? And why is that?’
‘I had no use for him; he was a traitor.’
‘And what sort of message do you think that sends to anyone else holding out against us? Aristonous, for example.’
Kassandros frowned. ‘Why should I care what sort of message it sends?’
‘Because, my dear, surely it’s better for people to surrender to us with the hope of keeping their lives; that way they’re more likely to come over to us. If you execute everybody who stands against us, we would halve the population of the country.’
Kassandros dismissed the idea. ‘Strength is what’s respected, not clemency. I can’t afford to let Aristonous live either; he would become a rallying cry for the north and I’ll just have to execute more people in the future. I believe it’s best to have a short and thorough bloodbath now, rather than a protracted one later.’
I do see his point and perhaps it has merit. ‘Let’s discuss each case as they arise. Perhaps, with hindsight, we might think it was better keeping Monimus alive until Aristonous surrendered and then execute the two together?’
Kassandros’ eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. Monimus could’ve been bait; it might have worked.’
‘But we’ll never know now as Aristonous will fight to the death unless he’s captured.’ She picked up the spy’s report. ‘Not that there seems to be much chance of that according to this; it seems Crateuas has done next to nothing, which is not how he’s presented it in his despatch.’
‘I’ll send the twins to have a look. If they sail to Therma across the bay they’ll be in Amphipolis in two days.’
‘They should leave as soon as possible.’
‘Tomorrow after the verdict. Seeing as they’re here they can join the assembly and help get the bitch convicted.’
‘How are we going to execute her when that happens? Have you thought about that?’
‘I’ll send an execution party to her rooms.’
‘And you think they’ll go through with it when they stand facing the mother of Alexander?’
Kassandros slammed his palm down on the desk. ‘Alexander! Alexander! Why is it always about Alexander?’
‘If you need me to answer that question then you really don’t understand what has been going on in Macedon for the last seventeen years.’
Kassandros hit the desk again, screwing his eyes tight as he fought to rein in his temper.
‘You must learn to control your emotions, my dear,’ Thessalonike ventured. ‘I know you hated him but it mustn’t affect your judgement every time you hear his name.’
‘All right! I know.’ He composed himself. ‘The men I choose will do their duty.’
‘Will they? Perhaps I might be able to come up with a better way.’
And so it was with a plan formulating in her mind that Thessalonike joined Kassandros at the assembly; made up solely of men, it differed from the army assembly in that it was rarely called and there was a property restriction, thus making it a more elite gathering. Traditionally it had always been used to try members of the upper class, mainly for treason. This trial, however, was about more than treason: it was about Olympias’ abuse of power for personal vengeance, and the wholesale slaughter of her enemies, real or imagined.
Throughout the trial, witness after witness came forward to testify to her bloodlust, whether it be relatives of the five hundred prisoners she had had executed or the lamentably few survivors from whole families she had all but wiped out. On and on this had gone from the first day to the second, and yet Thessalonike could sense an unease among the assembly to bring a conviction, let alone a death sentence, for the witnesses were continually being questioned as to their veracity or motivation.
‘These are mainly your people,’ she whispered to Kassandros, ‘and yet they seem reluctant to go for a conviction.’
Kassandros scowled and muttered something under his breath as he looked around the assembly sitting three-deep in a semi-circle at the southern end of the agora so as to benefit from the strengthening spring sun. ‘Perhaps we should’ve let her have a right of reply. Her arrogance and spite would have done more to condemn her than excuse her.’
‘No, Kassandros, we were right with our first decision to keep her hidden away. She still has the power to overawe the populace.’
‘If the assembly doesn’t convict her, what do you recommend we do?’
That’s it, get used to asking my advice, Kassandros. Soon you’ll come to rely on me completely. ‘How would it be if she were killed trying to escape?’
Kassandros’ avianesque face cracked into a tooth-bearing grin. ‘It would be a marvellous thing. It would leave me in the clear and it would take away the chance of her being acquitted.’
‘Then have a fast ship at the far end of the harbour ready to sail at dusk, and have men aboard it who are prepared to kill her and her escort as she embarks.’
Kassandros considered the plan. ‘Yes, that would work. We could display her body, saying she was caught trying to flee from the judgement of the assembly and was killed in the fight between her escort and the guards in the harbour – or something like that.’
‘Yes, something like that.’
‘And how would we get her to go to the harbour of her own free will?’
Thessalonike rose to her feet. ‘I’ll go to see her and offer, for old time’s sake, to spirit her away. I think she’ll go for the idea. After all, nothing is more precious to Olympias than Olympias.’
With her mind focused on the act she was about to put on, Thessalonike walked with purpose along the corridor leading to Olympias’ suite in the palace. ‘Open them,’ she ordered the guards on the doors. They did not for a moment question her right to enter.
Through the opening doors she marched, her shoes clacking on the marble floor, into the main reception room of Olympias’ suite.
‘You!’ Olympias shrieked as she looked up from a letter she was writing at her desk. She stood. ‘You bitch!’
Thessalonike ducked the flying inkpot that followed the expletive. ‘If you want to live, listen to me!’ She leaned to her right, dodging the pen hissing past her left ear. ‘Olympias! You’re a dead woman unless you listen to me.’
This seemed to penetrate the hate emanating from her adoptive mother. Thessalonike pointed to the statuette in Olympias’ hand. ‘Put that down and listen.’
‘I should kill you,’ Olympias hissed, not dropping her weapon but making no attempt to hurl it.
‘Perhaps you should, but if you did you would have no chance of surviving the day, whereas if you do as I say then maybe, just maybe, you might.’
‘Why should I trust you?’
‘Because you have no one else to trust.’
This hit the mark. Olympias sat back down, letting the statuette go. It thudded onto the desk.
‘That’s better.’ Thessalonike sat in a chair a safe distance away from the woman who had brought her up.
‘Well? What have you got to say?’
‘Only this: tomorrow the assembly will find you guilty.’
‘They wouldn’t dare; I’m the mother of Alexander.’
‘As you keep on endlessly reminding everyone; and as I keep on reminding you, that counts for far less now that he’s dead.’
‘I’m still his mother!’
Thessalonike held up a hand, palm out. ‘Yes, Olympias, you are. But the assembly will still find you guilty and pass a sentence of death upon you. You will be on your way to the Ferryman by this time tomorrow. Unless you run.’
‘Run where?’
‘To Sardis, to Kleopatra.’
‘I need a ship.’
‘I’ll have one ready by dusk.’
Olympias looked hard at Thessalonike, suspicion in her half-closed eyes. ‘What? And I just walk on down to the harbour and get on it?’
‘Yes. I have that power.’ That hurt her; what she would give for power.
‘And the ship will take me across the sea to Ephesus?’
‘Where you can get transport to Sardis, yes.’
Olympias slowly shook her head. ‘No, there’s something not right about this. Why would you help me? Why would you get me closer to Eumenes?’
‘That’s assuming Eumenes will beat Antigonos.’
‘He’ll beat him!’
‘If he doesn’t, I’ll be helping you get nearer to Antigonos. That may not be quite so attractive to you but it’ll still be better than being dead tomorrow.’
‘And what if this is a trap to kill me whilst I try to escape?’
‘Then you’ll be no worse off than if you stay. You’ll still be dead.’
‘What about Alexander and Roxanna?’
‘They stay; without Alexander under his care, Kassandros ceases to be regent. They stay. Stop trying to bargain, Olympias. It’s yes or no.’
OLYMPIAS.
THE MOTHER.
TRAPPED. GUARDS ON the doors, guards in the courtyard below, her letters read and then not sent, and all visits prohibited; until now, until this very strange visit from her cursed, adopted daughter. Could this be a way out? Olympias considered her options, staring at the hated face of Thessalonike. Why does she want to save my life? It doesn’t make sense. She knows I won’t rest until she and Kassandros are dead. And yet, this could be my only chance of slipping away from Kassandros’ grip. The bitch is right in that respect: he will have me killed, whether legally by the will of the assembly or with a knife in my ribs by Archias the Exile-Hunter, or some such lowlife. What have I to lose? ‘What assurances do I have?’
