The lion still stands guard and, nearby, modern archaeologists found and excavated the Thebans’ grave. Lying in seven orderly rows were 254 skeletons, sad relics of the brigade of lovers.
—
As usual, Philip was kind to Athens. This was not only a matter of sentiment, but also because the city could still cause him a good deal of trouble. It disposed of a large and powerful fleet and even his new torsion catapults would hardly leave a dent on its high stone walls. It was essential that Greece’s leading polis was settled and peaceful before the king launched his invasion of Persia, plans for which were in active preparation.
Alexander escorted the Athenian dead back to the city and passed on an offer to return prisoners of war without charge. The maritime league was finally dissolved, although a number of islands, including Samos and Delos, were allowed to remain under Athenian control. In theory, Athens was still free and unregulated, if only at home and not abroad (by contrast Thebes was obliged to accept a Macedonian garrison and to replace its democracy with an oligarchy).
The city showed its gratitude, but grudgingly. The ecclesia erected a statue of Philip on a horse and granted him and Alexander the citizenship of Athens, but it also conferred the franchise on Theban refugees. It chose Demosthenes, of all people, to deliver the funeral oration over the war dead. Philip overlooked the snubs.
Great changes are not always felt or observed at the time. Chaeronea was decisive in that it brought to an end the independence of the poleis. Macedon had shown itself to be the region’s superpower and they were too weak, even when united, to oppose it. Small self-governing cities continued to exist, of course, but they were now tamed members of a larger union.
The dream of Isocrates had finally come to pass, but not according to his plan. He had imagined a free coming together of the Greeks and a genuinely collective decision to send another army to sack another Troy. He was accustomed to democratic politics and in his eyes a combination imposed by force was not at all the same thing.
In the autumn of 338, at the time of the annual burying of the war dead, the old man, now in his late nineties, starved himself to death.
—
In winter or spring 337 delegates from all Greek states were summoned to a conference in Corinth, at which Philip announced a Common Peace. He would guarantee it with military force if necessary and a grand committee of the signatories would supervise it. Everywhere pro-Macedonian politicians were swept to power. For those tired of endless bickering and small pointless wars this was a welcome new world. Only the Spartans, impotent and embittered, refused to join in. It was a self-defeating gesture, for Philip accepted an invitation to march down into the Peloponnese where he readjusted borders to their disadvantage.
The move was very well received. The Greek historian Polybius wrote that the leaders who induced
Philip to enter the Peloponnese and humble the Spartans, allowed all its inhabitants to draw breath and think of freedom, and to recover the territory and cities of which the Spartans in their prosperity had deprived the Messenians, Megalopolitans, Tegeans, and Argives. In this way they unquestionably increased the power of their own states.
Later in the year at the committee’s second meeting, Philip announced his intention to punish the Medes and Persians for their desecration of Greek sanctuaries one and a half centuries previously and to free the Greeks of Asia Minor. For all his triumphant campaigns and the gold mines in Thrace, Philip was overdrawn by 500 talents. It was not just for glory that he intended to invade Persia, but also to refill his treasury.
The expedition would be an appropriate project with which to activate Philip’s new league of nations. How much real appetite there was for such a distant and dangerous enterprise is uncertain, but many young hoplites throughout Hellas were unemployed. They had all heard of Xenophon’s adventures in barbarian lands and were thrilled by the prospect of following in his footsteps.
The king sent to the oracle at Delphi, asking for Apollo’s approval of his plan to “liberate the Greek cities” in Ionia. The Pythia gave him a characteristically ambiguous or at least gnomic response. “The bull has been garlanded. Everything has been done. The priest is here to conduct the sacrifice.”
Philip was a little puzzled, but he accepted the oracle as a promise of victory.
—
At this point the spinners intervened and cut the thread of a human life.
A family quarrel broke out at the court in Pella, the causes of which are poorly understood. Apparently Philip repudiated Olympias on grounds of adultery and fostered rumors that his glamorous young heir was illegitimate. Late in 338, he announced his marriage to an attractive young woman from an aristocratic clan in Lower Macedonia.
Hard words were exchanged at the wedding feast. Everyone drank too much. The new bride’s uncle, an important general called Attalus who was high in favor, gave a speech in which he called on Macedonians to beg the gods that the union between Philip and his latest wife would produce a legitimate heir to the throne.
This was too much for the twenty-year-old prince, who was among the guests. He shouted at Attalus: “You scum, are you saying I’m a bastard, then?” and hurled a cup at him. The infuriated king staggered to his feet and drew his sword, intent on cutting down his son. Drink and his lame leg made him trip and he fell headlong to the ground.
Alexander said contemptuously: “Here’s the man who is planning to cross from Europe to Asia. He can’t even make it across from one couch to another!” He stormed out. He took his mother away to her native Epirus and withdrew to the comparative safety of untamed Illyria.
What was going on? We do not know, but we can safely reject the ancients’ notion that Philip’s behavior was down to sexual infatuation. The king was too much of a realist to upset all his political calculations for a pretty face. The most likely explanation is that, rightly or wrongly, he suspected his son and Olympias to be plotting his overthrow. There could be no other justification for the complete disruption of his dynastic plans on the eve of his expedition to Persia.
If the king was hoping for a new heir he was disappointed, for his bride gave birth to a daughter. He would be foolish if he left his kingdom without a successor, even if only a symbolic one, an infant. An advance guard had already crossed into Asia and there was no time to dally. He was obliged to recall and reinstate Alexander, albeit not to his old position of trust, and to reassert his legitimacy. Relations between the two men were icy.
However, in June 336 Philip had every reason to be pleased with life. The preparations for Persia were going well. The Great King and all his sons were poisoned by his grand vizier, a eunuch called Bagoas, who chose a cousin to succeed him as Darius III. The new ruler was his own man and immediately forced the kingmaker to down a dose of his own medicine. But although he was determined and capable, he was inexperienced.
Philip’s new queen at last produced a son. The balance of power at court changed again now that there was an alternative to Alexander, albeit a baby. The happy event coincided with lavish celebrations to mark the dynastic marriage of his daughter by Olympias to Alexander, king of Epirus—Olympias’s brother (and so her uncle) and Philip’s onetime flame.
Everyone who was anyone in all Hellas was present. Athens showed that it had already mastered the arts of deference and flattery. It was one of many cities that gave the king a gold crown, and it announced that it would hand over any plotter against the king who sought asylum in the city. Religious ceremonies in honor of the gods were conducted, music competitions held, and sumptuous meals provided for the guests. Large crowds flocked to the festivities.