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astirastyr · 4 months ago

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Most men float (by @charlenefrl all go subscribe and read their novels!!!)

For context, the scene takes place in the winter of 340/339 BCE, in Odessos. After he abandoned the sieges of Byzantion and Perinthos, king Philippos of Makedonia (Alexander the Great’s father) decided to march against the Scythian king, Athéas. He was aided by his father-in-law, the Thracian king Kothelas. Once Athéas was defeated, Philippos and Kothelas returned to Odessos, where they celebrated with a great feast.

Afterward, Philippos will march south with his army and his share of the loot, only to be ambushed by the Triballoi in the mountains. But that’s not where we are yet: the celebration is just winding down, everyone has drunk far too much, and someone has decided this is the perfect opportunity…

The magic stuffs in this piece are inspired by the play the Bacchae by Euripides and by a tale of Dionysos changing pirates into dolphins.

The wine was still thick on Eudamos’ tongue. That was one of the reasons why, for the first time since the Persian gold had touched his fingers, his courage did not fail him.

He was a good climber, always had been. As a young pauper in Pella, he had often scaled walls like a spider to get inside opulent houses. It was only when his reputation as a thief caught up with him that he decided it was time to pack up and leave.

That, and the glint of the coins...

Well, now was his time. Kothelas’ palace was sturdy enough, but the walls hadn’t been repaired in some time. Luck was on his side: while sitting with some friends that afternoon, in the street below, Eudamos had seen his king on the balcony. There had been one of the oldest pages with him, his latest lover, and they had been alone; it was easy to guess this led to the apartments of Philippos of Makedonia.

Eudamos had nothing against him, he thought as he began his climb. It was nothing personal. He was just sick of poverty, and the sieges of Byzantion and Perinthos had convinced him that war was too dangerous a trade for him. He disliked killing, so better to commit one last murder, and then he’d be done with this life—become a rich man in Persia, marry some pretty girl, and...

Focus, lad. He was lucky the guards were slow tonight. But then, Philippos’ balcony was so high—who could imagine an assassin reaching it? Yet here he was, his fingers gripping the wooden railing.

There were voices inside. The king was quarreling with someone, but the shutters were closed to keep out the winter chill. Eudamos couldn’t make out the words, only a blur of voices. If the gods were kind, Philippos would send the his page away. Then he would be alone, ready for sleep—and he was known to snore after a night of heavy drinking. How convenient…

The shutters were thrown open. Eudamos barely had time to drop back down, his heart pounding wildly. He pressed himself against the wall, hidden in the shadows, hoping it was enough. There was a strange smell in the air, one he couldn’t quite place.

Then a young voice said, “You shouldn’t smoke that. Clearly, hemp doesn’t agree with you.”

Footsteps creaked on the wooden floor, followed by a deeper voice. “Pausanias, you know this is inevitable. You’re not even old news at this point—you’re stale news.”

“Who cares? Aren’t we happy together?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

I don’t give a fuck about your point, just move, Eudamos thought as his fingers began to ache. The air was bitterly cold, and wouldn’t it be stupid to fall to his death just because these two idiots had decided to have a lover’s quarrel on this balcony while he was hanging there?

“The point,” Philippos answered, “is that you are becoming a laughingstock. You’re getting too old for this.”

“I don’t care if they laugh.”

“I’m sure your father will care.”

“Are you sleeping with my father?”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep—not here, with the other pages. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

His tone was final.

Eudamos clenched his teeth. If only the man would just go back to his room, he could finally pull himself up and catch his breath. Then he’d reach for the dagger and…

He heard the shutters close. He started moving again, swinging, pulling himself up, and…

The king was still on the fucking balcony, staring straight at him with what looked like an amused smile.

Eudamos froze.

There were still footsteps inside, the sound of the lad Philippos had been quarreling with… but why wasn’t he shouting for help? He was unarmed.

He said nothing.

Instead, he lifted a finger to his lips. Silence.

It was such a strange gesture that Eudamos, very slowly, finally hoisted himself over the railing and stood on the balcony.

A door slammed inside.

Then all was silent—except for the sound of the lock clicking on the shutters.

The lock was on the inside.

“You wanted to see me?” the king asked.

It was a moonless night. A slim, golden ray of light filtered around the shutters. The city suddenly felt very, very silent. No more soldiers celebrating in the streets, no more female captives wailing for their lost lives, no more ruckus from the palace. Even the gulls were quiet; even the sea and the wind were quiet.

“I, uh… I am not sure,” the assassin stuttered.

“Odd. It is a strange place to reach by accident.”

Philippos was still smiling. It was a benevolent smile, though his eye had a strange purplish glint. Eudamos swallowed—his spite tasted like wine, heavy and sugary. He was suddenly very afraid and grabbed his dagger. He is unarmed. I only have to stab him, and I will be free.

The king’s weight in gold, the Persian envoy had promised.

But now the king walked toward Eudamos, very calm, slowly, and yet somehow, Eudamos did not have time to move. His thoughts were so slow, like a river that turns to mud when its current fails it. I only have to stab him. Once.

He blinked.

His dagger was in the man’s hand now, the man with the purple eyes and the playful smile, and the air smelled like pepper, like honey, like a rich man’s party when so much wine was spilled on the floor that one can’t make out the colors of the stones in the mosaic.

“Did you want to kill me?”

No, I came here to rob you. It was the only lie that could work, that might save him from torture before his execution…

“Yes,” Eudamos heard himself say.

“Why?”

“I was bought.”

“By whom?”

“The Persians.”

He blinked.

He hadn’t meant to say that. He couldn’t remember how his dagger had ended up in Philippos’ hands, who was now studying it as if there was absolutely nothing strange, nothing wrong there…

“Why did you take their money?”

“I wanted to be rich. To have a pretty wife and oxen. Maybe a vineyard.”

“I understand. What I would give for one pretty wife and some horses and a vineyard!”

The king flashed a smile, and then he was laughing. Eudamos found himself laughing too. The man was charming, really, for someone he had meant to murder. For one moment, he felt like he had met his greatest friend.

Philippos put a hand on his shoulder and asked him who had paid him. The names of the men, their looks, where they met. There was no reason not to answer; just a pleasant warmth that washed away all the worries.

“You are so very kind, friend,” Philippos said. He sounded drunk, but then, so did Eudamos. “Now, I think you should go home. A soldier’s life doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes,” Eudamos admitted. “I hate it.”

“My poor friend. Look, you can go home. From here, just walk straight to the seaside.”

“Right, straight to the seaside.”

“Then keep going…”

“… into the sea?”

“Yes,” Philippos agreed. “Into the sea. Swim home.”

“But I don’t know how to swim.”

The man pulled Eudamos close, like a true friend, and told him, half speaking, half laughing, that it wasn’t that much of a problem.

“Most men float, you know.”

And then, with a long smile that showed a lot of teeth: “Sometimes, some kind god even turns them into dolphins.”

Some last spark of self-preservation flared through the haze. Eudamos didn’t know how to swim. He didn’t, and…

The purple glint in the king’s eye flashed blood red. The man never stopped smiling, but his voice turned odd, as if two people were speaking now: a deep, masculine voice and another, softer, almost that of a woman.

“Go. To the sea.”

So he went.

***

In the morning, Philippos woke up with a splitting headache and swore never to smoke hemp ever again. He suspected even his beloved licorice would do nothing for his stomach. With a groan, he remembered his quarrel with Pausanias. The lad was right, of course: he was beautiful, smart, talented in bed, though his most endearing quality was his wicked sense of humor.

But Pausanias was getting too old.

“Boys!” he shouted, loudly enough for the pages of the morning shift to come inside and bring his breakfast. Some water, food, and a good cup of red, and he would be ready to start his day.

When he went down, his secretary, Eumenes, was already there with the news from the night. Philippos just hoped no one had misbehaved in town; somehow, he was in no mood for punishment today.

“Only one incident of note,” Eumenes told his king. “One of our soldiers was found dead this morning. His body was floating by the docks. Should I ask for a discreet investigation?”

Philippos rubbed his pounding temples. Somehow, the picture of a floating body reminded him of something… then he shook himself and remembered.

“No,” he decided. “He was probably drunk and fell. Focus on getting us a good deal for the supplies. I don’t want these merchants robbing us just because it’s winter.”

When the most urgent matters were sorted, he went back to his room alone. It was a quick search to retrieve the dagger from the night before. Now he knew the encounter had happened; for with Dionysos, one never knew. There were things Philippos did when he was in the god’s embrace that he couldn’t recall at all. He would have to send the intel in his next letter to Olympias. She would know what to make of it and wouldn’t wonder how he knew, unlike his men in Odessos.

“Well, friend,” he murmured, looking at his reflection in the blade, “I didn’t lie, did I? You did float, in the end.”

#my art #art commisions #tagamemnon #Philip II of Macedon #Philippos of Makedonia #ancient history #antiquity

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