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Attalus Hecataeus, Hecataeus/Phillip Arrhidaeus, Gorgatus, Euxenippus, Euxenippus/Nicanor, Gorgias, Timaeus, Thessalonike, Olympias, Eurydice, Sophia, Pothos, Demarete, Sophia, Pothos
O glorious Alexander! Mighty king, though dead and gone to Hades realm, claims another victory! We have returned bathed in the sweat of glory.
Mighty is his reach from the underworld into the living's land! Just three days ago, through the mighty stare of Queen Olympias, has the enemy been faced down!
With a stare!
A glare!
A scowl!
A glower! A frown!
Alexander's, by proxy! You see the two armies opposed on two hills, pulled up overlooking the field of blood-to-be below. Man-formed Eurydice and boy-King Philip, flashing the proper crowns, sat astride over there. We parted to let a horse and rider through, heavy-caped darkly flowing as the horse flew like the eagle down the hill by half. The rider stopped while the horse pranced in place, nostrils flaring snorting wind. Then the hood dropped and there was our queen, white hair blazing in the morning mist as one streak of sun pierced through to the top of her head--
--at that very moment! Believe it! Apollo smiled one ominous sunbeam upon her alone.
Struck dumb at once with horror and awe-- horror at what they were there to do against her-- Eurydice's army of Macedonians saw her and knew her, at once! Their war-cries ceased. They sat in silent veneration of her. Then we heard a loud cry from one lone bellows-lunged voice in that other army, "It is Olympias, the Regent Queen of Macedonia! Mother of Alexander! who brought us all the blessings of the great king!"
They cheered!
We cheered not the battle shout!
We rode toward one another and clashed not in deadly engagement.
What happened to our queen?
Surrounded by the tumult of a battle won when the enemy disappeared without one blow into a great embrace of countrymen.
And Philip the King and Eurydice?
Philip Arrhidaeus was bound immediately. Eurydice flew like a frightened dove. She was captured retreating to Amphipolis. Philip and she stand in bonds, awaiting the judgment of Olympias, and she is on her way here now.
The girl was in league with Cassander who allowed her to take over the regency of Polyperchon and the guardianship of the kings. She surely would have killed Alexander's son to remove that threat to her assuming the throne.
Our great queen has returned! Triumphant and mighty in victory without blood.
The icy economy of mastery!
The cool parsimony of ability!
The surprising creativity of daimon!
The audacious boldness of confidence.
The preempting energy of Alexander!
New life! We touch the spirit of Philip and Alexander through our royal lady--
--and her princely son, who gives us hope that those spirits will reign again.
Bring the pretender before us.
We are pleased that the Macedonian government now has one head and one people, preserved from civil schism. It is a time to heal.
You are Eurydice? Daughter of Amyntas and Cynna? Illegitimate granddaughter of Philip?
Dressed in the guise of a fugitive! Ignoble! The wife of this wretch they call "king"? Whom you married to find legitimacy for your royal designs?
Whom you deserted and fled from, after being a pretend-queen and upstart-general?
Thessalonike wants deliberation. What is your counsel?
Timaeus, deliberate!
Well? What is to be done?
O great and mighty queen, dear, sweet Olympias! The heart of Timaeus--
--Called Timmaeus the younger!
"The Younger" to honor my father who died--
--Yes!-Shielding Alexander's body in India. Brave Timaeus.
My heart swells and will soon burst and gush for love and pride for you. We are all flushed with your triumph. You are the precious crown jewel of my life. If respect be a concoction of both love and fear, where love advances and fear withdraws, and the conflict holds me still between the two, starving like an ass between two haycocks, then I respect you NOT! For the love of you so overpowers the fear that I would approach you like this--
--and I would embrace you-- Ah! But then, the smaller part of my respect prevents. I would only touch you, only for an instant to brush up against the--mother--
How does this affect our cause?
When the Great King Alexander, your formidable son, passed without an heir to the underworld, his army became divided. The infantry, ever the conservative which turned Alexander back from pursuing his longing to continue east to the Great Encircling Ocean, favored the witless Philip Arrhidaeus. The cavalry, ever the progressive, favored the unborn child, if a male, and soon it turned out to be so. The vote of the army gave us two kings. Ambitious Eurydice took Philip Arrhidaeus as a means to taking the throne of Macedonia. The boy Alexander was her enemy, and she was compelled to attempt his overthrow. King Philip and ever-the-triumphant Alexander both rid themselves of threats to their accession, as you must now do. She and Philip Arrhidaeus must be disposed of.
And the means?
Ostrakismos-- To Hades!
And Attalus, what does our Alexander advise?
Timaeus is young and passionate, my passionate queen. It is right to delay your passion with deliberation. When I was with Alexander, I observed his magnanimity in victory. Always, though only with good reason judged from the demeanor of the vanquished. We must hear this pretender state her case.
My queen. Timaeus has argued for a political expedient. I say otherwise, my lady, if we are to meet our duty to consider all things.
(Olympias nods.)I, too, was an observer of the Great King. This, my queen, is a blood feud, where honor demands that revenge be taken. Did this woman act from anger, or from an appetite for power? To assuage her anger? Or to satisfy her need for the pleasure of dominance? I say the latter! She plotted! She connived! She is not an ignorant brute. She does not act out of disease, accident or chance, but from the cold calculation of ambition. Anger is warm and hasty. NO! She is cunning. And I say she acted out of evil designs. She acted in the same manner as before at Triparadeisus, where she worked against the efforts of the guardians of the two kings, stirring great disorder in the Macedonian army. Alexander's tutor, Aristotle, has said that "who commits outrage acts with pleasure." Her ambition is an appetite, and ravenous. Insatiable! Unstoppable! So you must condemn her, my beautiful queen.
Condemn her to what, dear Euxenippus?
Put her where her addiction to pleasurable mischief cannot harm us any longer. Ostrakismos, my queen.
If the argument be for vengeful punishment, then we must look at Alexander's example, which elevated our national war against the Persians to a religious war of vengeance to be taken for crimes against the temples of the Greek Gods by Xerxes. It is the anger of Euxenippus that bothers me, for he himself has sprung to revenge before he has heard the full deliberation, just as dogs bark if there is but a knock at the door. Alexander had many regrets for some lethal displays of brutish anger and revenge. He ever after guarded against it. Those men who go beyond all ordinary standards by reason of virtue become godlike. The gods have no vices or virtues. The gods are above morality. Who better to seek revenge than one who is above morality, where no law covers except that of honor? Who here will make that claim?
Is not Queen Olympias the law? Is not the honor of Macedonia at stake? She can pardon and forgive. She can condemn.
My queen. My heart glows with love, for you, for your return to the throne, for your stature in the land.
What is your counsel, my dear, regarding what should be done with them?
If I may, I would like humbly to request that we not speak of "them", only of "her". He is not competent to speak or act in any reasonable way; any acts have been solely on her account. If I may, I would like to ask you to restore control of your honor and standing among the people by acts of compassion and drown the fires of anger in a flood of good feeling, by a flood of goodness washing clean the festering sores of perceived injury. Like the compassion taught by Dionysus, and Aphrodite. I would ask us all to forswear our anger to let the Macedonian people share your benevolence as a way to live in peace. I plead with you, if I may be so bold, to view these offenders--after she has acknowledged what she has done--with compassion, tolerance, and forgiveness. I believe, and I would hope that you could believe, that, to be freed from their offense, you need not be reconciled to them to forgive them.
What ruling must be made?
In my opinion, ostrakismos is a proper restraint against their further acts. But I, too, ask that Eurydice be heard before any judgment is brought.
I am Eurydice, daughter of Cynna, who was a daughter of Philip, your husband. I am married to the king, Philip Arrhidaeus, who stands here at my side. I make these points so all will know and reason from the same grounds. I confess, I became impatient with the rule of two kings, one a very young child, and the other a very old child. In their stead, the generals made wasteful war for the power of the dead king. I know a woman can command, and I believed that I was the one to rule. You did not fight, Olympias; you stared at me across the field, and, at the mere sight of Alexander's mother, the army abandoned me. My army deserted me because you carry the power of your son, who was never defeated by man, but only by the will of the gods. I did not then desert the king. I presumed you would treat him with compassion. I was serving his interests, going to meet his protector in Asia. Blood and marriage bind me to the royal line. You are bound by the same obligation to treat kin honorably. I make a special plea for my husband. You, Olympias, as all here should know, are the cause of this boy's mental deficiency, when you once gave a potion to him. He is the son of Philip, your husband, the king. I am his true guardian. If there is justice in your heart, you will free us from these bonds and restore us to our rightful place alongside Alexander IV.
Well, you see Alexander and Roxanê how we deliberate in Macedon, with democratic fairness. Now Alexander, Roxanê, please go to your rooms and rest before we dine.
You are a thorn, but not one that shields anything precious. Gentlemen! Turn these two over to the army to be taken to that hut in the garden. Wall them up, but leave only so much opening to shove to them a crust and cup each day. Now go! Out of my sight!
The sight of poor Philip moves me. He knows not where he is-- what he has done-- whom to turn to-- to wipe his grime away-- to give him water-- a crust of bread-- a loving arm.
Hearts are soft, or hearts are hard.
When soft, they float on pools of moistened eyes.
When hard, they find the stones to cast in vengeful hate.
You would act to emulate the stony heart of kings and turn upside down the true work of a woman's head.
My heart weeps for her.
Her heart was spirited away by her head.
I could weep for poor Philip, a lamb that will not comprehend its torment at the sacrificial knife.
I do not blame Eurydice and Philip. I understand her desire to resolve the division.
She made a fair case. She acknowledged what she had done. She has fire. He is pitiable. Like the meandering ant, she would hasten to save herself when I am about. But like that ant long ago, she bit me. And like that ant, do you believe she will be equally oblivious to the forces that must come crushing down on her?
Preservation.
And like the bee, I must sting.
Altruism, for the bee must die.
There is the source of any compassion I could feel. But I must reject the child's view. For-- Alexander must be revenged. I want Philip dead. I will forgive him after he is dead. I will feel compassion for him after I have done what I need to do and he is dead. I am in need of no person's approval for what I do. I want her dead. I will forgive her after she is dead. I will not be too quick to forgive. It is the politically expedient thing to do. Theirs is a case only of the rightful heir. But hold! Yes! Maybe there will be some small measure of revenge for my husband Philip's infidelities, at the same time. The real case for blame and revenge now comes to me. My right. In a world of men voracious for power and wealth, Olympias must be strong and copy the men. Here comes my true anger, a fortress against my enemies' predations. Not without great trouble will I let the thieves take what I have. Those are the rules of rule among the warring generals. Their world, not mine. And blame. And revenge. I name Antipater, his sons, his relatives, and all his oligarchic friends, my enemies and the source of great injuries to me, Macedonia and all Hellas. I blame Antipater and his sons, Iollas, Cassander, and Nicanor, and I claim they poisoned Alexander in Babylon. I will not forswear my anger and be gobbled up by the greedy successors--where is their benevolence? I will make things right. I am wholly devoted to my just revenge. Place Nicanor before me.
You are Nicanor?
Son of Antipater, dead destroyer of Alexander's gracious reign. Brother of Cassander, enemy of the gods. Brother of Iollas, dealer of death to the Great King, my son Alexander. Nicanor, traitor to the Macedonian king. Ally of the usurper Eurydice.
Do you have your list of witnesses who will speak for you?
Who are these people?
Relatives and friends.
Friends and relatives of whom?
My relatives and friends.
A hill of ants. A buzzing hive! Relatives and friends of Cassander! And Antipater!
You want a fig, Nicanor?
Is your hand clean?
My pet.
Ate!
Treacherous Ate! I have seen her. Here. Among us.
Strife and ruin!
She enters! She is here. In Pothos!
The luscious pleasure of retribution!
Reckless Olympias!
Olympias! Olympias! Where Ate goes, there is sin. And there are the three Litae to help the witless prey of Ate. Where are they now for our queen.
Olympias. Wretched Olympias. Here we, her companions, find ourselves offering in the ways of the prayerful goddesses to take her prayers to heaven on her behalf.
Her delight in the torment of others will turn the winds of her revenge to blow bitter cold into her own face--
--unless, in the midst of her feast of torture she stops herself by an act of sovereign will.
Olympias, great queen, you are in grave danger. Turn again to deliberation. This is what we pray.
We weep as we pray, for rarely does a mortal look to the consequences of evil.
So you mutter among yourselves of my evil, without regard for the evil done me and my son by the brood of Antipater, Cassander, Eurydice, and Nicanor. Do not concern yourselves with my sin. What bothers our friend, Pothos?
She feels the presence of Ate and has fallen into a twitch of fear.
You do not have the correct approach, boy. You move too fast. You do not smell right. The serpent is harmless. But if it is not, it is no matter. My pet needed the exercise.
I observe your recoil. Your prayers should not be for me. You are innocent of power and rule. You would act as any commoner would. This act also feels strong to me. I feel the harshness myself, and the strangeness of it, but I have seen the kings do the same things with cool severity. It is political efficiency. I could feel sympathy, but--
--No, my queen. I must respectfully challenge these acts. There is more hate than policy in what you do. And the bee that stings, dies.
Only those words will die now. With required patience, I have heard your deliberations. I am decided. I am ready to act.
They will count a hundred trees, two men in command of each tree. They will strip bare one branch on each at the height of the wall, and hang there one person of these one hundred names. The house of Antipater will dance to my music.
The way Ate dances about on the head of each mortal when she afflicts just for sheer, ungodly joy of it.
Hang Nicanor! And hang them all! At once! You see, Nicanor, you will have a party of your friends and family to accompany you to Hades' realm. We will send Cassander to you soon. Carry him off!
Off, I say. Off, now, go!
Just retribution on treasonous rebels! On usurpers! On false husbands! On unfaithful fathers of bastard idiots! On the whole tribe of murderers, the poisoners of a noble and god-like son! How might a man become a god? By doing that which is impossible for men to do. Such was he who must be avenged.
Olympias! I have you now.
We cower for fear in the presence of these atrocities, which must become infamous.
To ignore the Litae is to ignore the will of Zeus.
Now she will be our grave concern.
Queen Olympias!
She is not blind from too much light from Apollo. She sees too well in the dark and she shuns even the faintest light. My hope is dying here; I must go fix it on events elsewhere.
To leave our queen is unthinkable!
To survive we must make the unthinkable--thinkable.
We must not be so squeamish about the unthinkable--
So squeamish that we cannot imagine--
--I cannot conceive of doing that.
Hate is always hasty, or if not, then all the more malignant.
My queen!
My distracted queen. I needed to say farewell. I go with Attalus to take part in your rightful wars.
I portrayed a faint likeness to Alexander, and I could mimic several of the qualities of his character. But I could not touch the manhood of his many, grave wounds, taken as he led the charge, or emulate the divinity in his practice.
I took the part of the debauched Philip with brainsick lechery, with no understanding of its meaning to her. O how I see now that madness has come to this woeful end!
I will save her yet. And young Alexander and Roxanê.
Go to the tomb of Iollas, brother of Cassander! Destroy it! Dump his rotted flesh and bones into the river.
I enacted the love of her serpent god, but it is as if she were the snake, who strikes again, again, and yet again. I shudder even to be on her friendly side. I go with the others.
Her appetite for revenge contains no deliberative element. I am between the men and Thessalonike. Something here is no longer safe.
Old Antipater is safely away. But alas for his family and friends.
Sophia quotes old Aristotle correctly. This is a dismal show of appetite. She starves, and what she feeds on is good health for a snake, swallowing people whole. Since she knows us no longer, I may as well depart.
You!
(She points to Attalus.)To the witless one! put a knife to his throat and cut it.
I am reminded that I once saw an artisan's cart overloaded coming down a hill. It pushed the horse and then got in front of the horse and dragged him at a very high speed. The horse was very badly hurt, the man's treasures were all broken, and the man sat at the bottom of the hill crying at the litter of his great losses.
The weight of my respect for our queen has shifted. Now my fear out-balances my undoubted love. But as my father protected her son, I must stand by and protect his mother. She may be right. I can understand her passion to preserve what she sees as the right order. I counseled for "Thanatos". That is the man's game that she plays. Although she plays it in a woman's arena, at a safe distance from the man's violent deeds, she may sense something of the consequence in your recoil. She is no coward.
We can seek out Polyperchon for wars we understand.
Farewell, my friends. May good fortune be with you.
Bring the girl here.
I long to see the end of all these killings. I dread this next.
Some music and a poem would tame her. But I cannot bear to bring sweetness into this scene.
What evil is here transpiring?
Evil is there, where you cannot feel with these poor mortals.
That is the nature of evil everywhere. She has wrung from me all compassion I may have felt for her.
We say, "They are helpless in your hands, Queen Olympias.
"Show mercy and greatness of temperament," we say.
"Be kind and compassionate," we beg.
But she is gone and does not hear.
She is so full of herself she does not see others.
We are shades to her.
She has had great numbers of people around her, always.
They are but creatures.
We are wall paintings.
Shadows.
Statues.
Hidden in plain sight.
Like that snake in the basket.
Is it done?
It is now being done and will soon be accomplished.
Then bring the girl in. And give her this note.
And show her this basket.
"My sweet, dear Eurydice, someone awaits you, and needs you to guide him into mother earth. He is lost without you, his dear wife. There is only one way to get to him, but you have three choices. Go to the basket on the table. Put your hand inside and take out all that is there."
I am cut.
At last, for my defense.
A phial?
A noose!
"It has reached my ears that you are unrestrained in declaring the kingdom yours. Its rightful rulers will keep the kingdom for you while you sojourn in Hades. Your only choices are three: this noose, this knife, or this phial of hemlock. Go, now. Your witless husband, whom you called king, in whose name you made war against Macedonia, your queen, and the only true heir to Alexander's rule, awaits you. And if you hesitate, there will come those who will strangle you on the spot."
I am Eurydice.
(She shows the cut on her hand.)
Of noble blood. Of royalty descended. Philip is dead. He awaits in the world below, mute and innocent. What is his guilt? Who disposed to him his fate? Lachesis. As the course you set unfolds, revealed too late the branching path he might have trod. Who wound the thread of his life? Clotho. His thread was bare of strength. Who snipped the thread of his life so cruelly short? Atropos. Too quick you cut him off. More powerful, the Fates, than the thunderbolts of Zeus. In dreams our fate clearly unwinds. With clouded mind this boy saw darkness. I greeted my fate when the goddess Great Ananke seized me with what I had to do. I challenged the queen, and lost
.You, Olympias, have the power of Alexander, whose daimon roams the earth as if he were still Great King. You have stolen his spirit. But this boy-man of mine, this poor lost shade I sheltered in life-- I must go to him, hurry to him. By my own hand, not yours, queen of despair. These gifts of yours to me, I pray they may fall to your lot.
I will slip out of this life as quickly as I slipped into it.
Olympias, I am soon released, but I am awake, dreaming a clear vision. I know your fate cannot rest with the Moirae, fixed at birth, but Úpermoira! That fate well deserved by sin. Your acts of hubris pushed by Ate annul your privileged share and draw upon yourself the Erinyes. Themis, the voice and justice of Gaia, the mother of all, will provide for me. I go into Mother Earth where the tree roots shall pierce my mold to feed the leaves of spring. I am eager for a rebirth.
(She skips off. Timaeus picks up the basket to take it off, but he stops and listens as the faint sound of a flute leading the sound of feet tramping in step, growing louder. Olympias steps out of her hiding place DL and goes to Timaeus.)
Cassander's army moves toward us. We must hasten to safer ground in the castle at Pydna. We must move quickly. Alert the people and our guard. Polyperchon is moving to head off the enemy.
Where are my gentlemen?
Attalus? Euxenippus? Gorgatus? Gorgias? Hecataeus?
They have gone abroad to join Polyperchon.
Preservation. What a loss! I didn't know. Bereft of son-- my generals-- my friends-- my strength declines. The charm of his name still rules from the grave. I must rule.