I was born in the year of the 106th Olympiad in the northern highlands of the kingdom of Macedon. I was the third of my parentsâ five children. My older brother died in infancy, but my three sisters have flourished and made good lives for themselves. My parents are both still living and have often expressed their pride in me, but it has been more than a decade since Iâve seen them, and it is doubtful that I will ever see them again. I love my family, but Iâve been away for so long I cannot now recall their faces.
My parents are of the nobility and their holdings include sheep, olive groves and orchards. As my fatherâs heir, I began my training at the age of seven in the management of our estates. However, my tutelage under my father did not last long. When I was ten, my father took me to a horse fair in Pella, the kingdomâs capital. The King was shopping for a new warhorse and traders were arriving from all over Europe, hoping to interest him in their stallions. Most of the Macedonian nobility would be attending, as much to cultivate political alliances as to purchase horseflesh. My father, who was not political, was going primarily to restock our stables, although he was also looking forward to renewing old acquaintances.
I was flush with excitement as we set out in the early morning light, feeling very important as I rode by my fatherâs side; our retainers riding a respectful distance behind us while our guards rode both before and after. Macedonia was experiencing a period of peace and prosperity, owing to King Philipâs vigorous leadership, but no nobleman with a modicum of sense would travel any distance without guards.
My father had been a warrior in his youth and fought briefly alongside King Philip while he was still acting as Regent for his young nephew, Amyntas - the rightful king? That was a matter of some debate, although less so since Amyntas had acquiesced quietly to being usurped and Philip had proven to be an excellent King. He was building a professional standing army, something we had never had, and heâd hired engineers who were designing improved war machines that were said to be superior to anything that anyone had yet invented. King Philip was courageous, smart and ruthless.
Years earlier the King had taken control of the gold mines of Mount Pangaeus as well as several silver mines in the eastern provinces, so he had a large and steady income to spend on the modernization of his army. To his credit, he also kept a flow of funds moving into every aspect of the kingdomâs economy, resulting in a better fed, better clothed and generally loyal citizenry.
âOnly a generation ago,â my father said, âOnly the nobility wore woven cloaks. Most of the commoners of Macedon still wore animal skins for warmth. They tilled the soil and herded goats and sheep, much as they do today. But the class of merchants, traders and artisans was limited. That class has grown swiftly under Philipâs rule and the capital is now thriving with all manner of commerce and goods imported from all over Europe and even from the empires of the East.â
He was giving me a condensed education about our King as we rode. He spoke briefly of the Kingâs numerous wives, taken to consolidate alliances with neighboring kingdoms, and of his Queen, Olympias. She was not Macedonian, but a princess of Epirus: a beautiful, but untamed woman who kept large snakes in her rooms and was a Priestess of the Dionysian rites. What that entailed, my father declined to explain, and I was too shy to question.
The King and Queen had been at odds with each other for years, but early in their marriage the Queen had given birth to a son named Alexander and two years later a daughter, Kleopatra. âAlexander is said to be quite the favorite with the soldiers,â my father said. âHe is exactly your age, also having been born in Lion Month. No doubt youâll see him there.â
We rode for a while in silence until I plucked up the courage to ask my father why, if we were a noble family, we had never been to court. Father simply shrugged, âI am a loyal subject of King Philip and although I have fought beside him, I am not a personal friend. Your grandfather died young, so I was needed to manage the estates and, frankly, I was not unhappy to do so. The life of a warrior is an honorable one and it suits most men well. But I prefer my life as it is.â He stopped his horse suddenly and turned to look directly at me. âHephaestion, you are my heir and only son. The life of a nobleman, not a warrior, is what lies ahead for you, too.â
We stayed the night in a hostel a short distance from the capital, intending to resume our journey at daybreak. We were weary from our long ride and my father fell asleep quickly. As tired as I was, the excitement of the coming day kept me awake as did the words heâd spoken with such gravity . . .âThe life of a nobleman, not a warrior, is what lies ahead for you, too.â
I canât say that it troubled me at the time. Of course, I was already being trained to defend my family and property, and I would go into battle to aid my King if he commanded it. Though with Philip building his own army, rather than relying on his nobles to supply their own soldiers, that seemed unlikely. It appeared that my future was set. I would inherit our estates, marry a girl of my own class, father a half-dozen children, work hard to maintain our wealth and position, sacrifice to the Gods on feast days and train my eldest son to continue after me. A privileged life. A good life. One with which I could be satisfied.
The next day everything changed for me.
The horse fair was being held on a high plateau, at some distance from the palace and the city of Pella. It was an enormous plain and the area was packed with more people than I had ever seen in one place. There was a clamor of voices laughing and shouting and calling to each other. The horses were responding to the noise by stamping their feet and neighing loudly. There were booths selling food, drink stalls selling wine, water and teas and baskets of colorful fruits. There were pretty young girls and not so young or pretty women bargaining for their favors, and handsome young men apparently doing the same. My knowledge of adult behavior was sketchy at best, but the stable boys at home had regaled me with stories which gave me some insight into what was being offered.
Father bought me a slice of melon and steered me firmly away from the cheerful display of female flesh. I smirked to myself and thought about all the exaggerated lies I would tell the stable boys when I got home.
While inspecting the work horses my father was interested in buying, we made our way closer to the perimeter of the riding ring where the warhorses were being put through their paces. A pavilion had been built within the enclosure. The banners placed on either side bore the gold starburst design, the emblem of the royal house of Macedon. âThere,â said my father. âThatâs the King.â He boosted me up so I could see, but the shade under the pavilion was too dark to make out any details. There were a dozen people seated inside and, in the center of them, I saw a large, bearded man in a white chiton with a royal purple chlamys pinned at his shoulder. I knew I was looking at our King and was disappointed that I could not see him clearly.
âNever mind,â said my father as he lowered me to the ground. âYouâll see him tonight at the feast. It is likely youâll even be presented to him. I doubt Philipâs forgotten me completely and he has a well-developed sense of courtesy to his nobles.â
Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud, furious neighing and the stomping of giant legs. The crowd around us churned with anticipation. I couldnât see anything beyond the back of the man in front of me. I heard Father offer to lift me up again, but I was already squirming my way between the packed bodies to move closer to the ringâs railing. There I saw a horse of such magnificence he surely must have ridden down from Olympus, a scion of Pegasus at the least. Enormous and heavily muscled, he reared up on his hind legs and sounded his outrage to the blue and empty sky. I swear there was smoke coming out of his nostrils and flames in his eyes. No, not Olympus, this creature came straight out of Hades.
The horse trader whoâd brought him was hanging onto the reins for dear life, his heels dragging in the dirt. Suddenly, King Philip stepped down from the pavilion and walked into the center of the ring Grooms quickly ran inside after him, ready to drag the horse away if it should look as though the King was in danger. Philip prudently didnât come too close, circling the horse, inspecting him from a discrete distance. The Kingâs chief groom tried to mount but the horse never stopped rearing and snorting, his ear-shattering screams echoing across the plain. First the chief then another groom tried to get up on the animalâs back. Each time, he reared and flailed his hooves at them, so they had to back away.
After a few moments, King Philip angrily shook his head and shouted at the trader, âYou call this a warhorse? Take it away!â
In the brief lull that followed his words, a young voice suddenly rang out. âWhat a waste of a splendid horse, just because no one here is man enough to ride him!â Out into the center of the ring strode a small upright figure and my heart stopped beating. That was the first time I saw him. Alexander. I had only a childâs idea of love then, but I knew how I felt. Breathless. In the years to come, my love would mature, grow and change, as we matured and changed. But it would remain constant and will never end.
I was so mesmerized it took a moment to notice that the crowd had grown silent, watching intently as they faced one another; the large, imposing personage of the King and the slender defiant figure of his son. The crowd was so still that we clearly heard King Philip say, âYou think you can ride him?â Without hesitation, the Prince answered with a resounding, âI know I can.â Philip nodded once, âIf you can stay on his back, Iâll buy him for you.â
Alexander approached the horse, taking the bridle from the trader, ordering him curtly to leave. People were pushing harder against the railings now, not wanting to miss the show. They were quiet, knowing better than to spook the horse further. We could hear the Prince murmuring softly to the animal, pulling gently on the reins, turning him slowly, easing up to him, softly touching his flanks, then his neck. He took his time, as if no one existed but himself and the magnificent creature before him. The horse quivered with suppressed tension, but he allowed the touch, never taking his eyes off Alexander, but already trusting him.
Then, quick as a cat, Alexander was astride the stallion, galloping across the ring, flying over the railings and disappearing as fast as the wind into the far reaches of the plain and the forest that lay beyond.
We all released the breath weâd been holding and everyone began talking at once. I glanced across to see that King Philipâs face was ashen, his hands clenched at his side as he strained to see into the distance where his son had disappeared. The Kingâs generals were speaking to him, urging him to send someone after the Prince. But Philip shook his head.
The wait seemed endless. Father had finally pushed his way forward to find me. He spoke angrily to me. I could see heâd been worried about losing me, but I didnât even answer him. My thoughts were wholly on the Prince. Was he lying on the ground with his neck broken, his body trampled? Perhaps the King should have sent someone. Perhaps . . .
Then a small black dot appeared on the horizon, coming swiftly towards us across the plain. The dot turned into an enormous black beast with a shaft of sunlight astride its back. A loud cheering started and grew to a deafening sound. My own voice joined in the celebration. The cheering grew into a chant â a chant I was to hear innumerable times over the following years, a single word, repeated over and over, âAlexander, Alexanderâ.
They sailed over the railing, then the Prince brought the horse to a gentle trot and rode up to the King. I was close enough to see the light in his eyes, and the satisfied look on his face. The chanting had died away as everyone waited to see what the King would do. Philip looked up at Alexander and in his loud, battle-hardened voice cried out, âLook you, my son, for a larger kingdom, for Macedonia is too small for you!â Alexander broke into a smile and in one motion slid off his horse and into his fatherâs arms. The cheering rose to a roar.
Alexander would tell me later that this was his first moment o...