Attalus lifted the cushion clear of the old man and Archelaos let go of the body, which sank to the floor. Ptolemaos leaned over it, staring hard into the dead face. 'I don't like the expression,' he said. 'He doesn't look like someone who died in his sleep.'
Attalus chuckled and knelt by the body, pushing shut the mouth and closing the dead eyes. 'Yes, that is better,' whispered the King. 'Good. Let it be done.'
As the evening approached Attalus sat in his rooms, sipping watered wine. He did not want to be drunk for this evening's work, yet his impulses urged him to drink the flagon dry. He prided himself on having an ordered mind and pushed away the wine cup. What is the matter with you? he asked himself. The answer came swiftly. He did not feel comfortable with the thought of Philip's death, though he could not think why. It was not as if he liked the boy — Attalus did not like anyone. And yet I do not wish to see him dead, he realized. The whole business was becoming disturbing. Ptolemaos was a fool; he was ruthless enough, but there his talents ended. Archelaos was no better. If anything, he had less talent than his father. Unrest was growing. Many of the nobles now stayed away from the palace, and the morale of the army was low. If Ptolemaos should fall, then his favourites would be dragged down with him, and Attalus had no wish to win a place among the fallen.
But what do I do? he wondered.
Attalus found his mood darkening along with the sky. He had no choice. Not yet. First kill Perdiccas, then find the leading Macedonian dissident and be ready to switch horses when the days of blood drew near. He cursed — and reached once more for the wine.
He waited until midnight and then walked silently along the deserted corridors, coming at last to the oak doors of Perdiccas' rooms. He could see light beneath the door and pushed his ear against the wood. There were voices within, though he could make out no words. He cursed softly, and was about to leave when the door was pulled open and he found himself facing Philip. The boy looked shocked, his hand flicking towards his dagger.
'There is nothing to fear,' said Attalus, easing past him and into the room. The older prince was sitting on a couch, eating bread and cheese; he looked stronger than Attalus had ever seen him.
The warrior turned to Philip. 'I was looking for you,' he lied easily, 'but you were not in your rooms. I thought you might be here.'
'Why should you seek me out in the night?' asked Philip, suspicious.
'There is a plot to kill you,' said Attalus, 'but then you know that. Hence the midnight feast. No wonder the poisons failed to take effect. But that is by the by. Ptolemaos has ordered me to kill your brother tonight. You are to die next week.'
Attalus heard the rasping whisper of an iron blade hissing from a scabbard and swung to see Perdiccas advancing with a sword. He had not realized how tall the prince was, nor sensed the power in him.
'That is not necessary,' he said, his voice low. 'I am not here to obey the order, I am here to warn you.'
'Why should I believe you?' countered Perdiccas, holding the point of the blade to Attalus'
throat.
'Wait!' urged Philip, as he saw his brother tense for the thrust. 'Let us not be rash! I believe him."
'Thank you,' whispered Attalus, slowly reaching up and pushing the blade from his skin. 'The question is, what do we do? I would suggest riding from the palace and heading for Amphipolis.
Once there you can gather support from discontented nobles and — perhaps — seize the throne.'
'No,' said Philip.
'What else is there?' put in Perdiccas.
'You take the throne tonight,' Philip said. 'Ptolemaos murdered our father and the throne is yours by right. We kill the King.'
'Gods, man! You are insane,' responded Perdiccas. 'We have no allies we know of. The guards are loyal to Ptolemaos — we'd be cut down.'
'Not so,' said Philip. 'Ptolemaos is not a popular man, so no one will feel any lingering loyalty when he is dead. I saw Archelaos ride from the palace this afternoon and I am told he is heading for Thebes. So he will be no threat. With the King dead, the nobles will gather to choose a successor — but by then the guards will already have declared their loyalty to you.'
'How can you be sure?'
'The nature of men,' said Philip. 'The desire to be led. And Attalus will speak to them. He is a Captain of the Guard and they will listen to him. Is that not so, Attalus?'
'Perhaps,' agreed the warrior cautiously. 'But the risks are still very great.'
Philip laughed. 'Risks? I have lived with the prospect of assassination for years. What risks? We may die? All men die, rich and poor alike. But if I am to die, then let it be while I fight, not like some bullock in a pen waiting for the axe to fall.'
Attalus listened as Philip outlined his plan, and his admiration for the young man grew. He found himself wishing that the boy was older; he would make a fine King, a man of power and insight. He glanced at Perdiccas. There was strength here also, but he was a lesser man than his brother.
Still, if this lunatic venture succeeded it was Perdiccas who would take the crown. Attalus waited until Philip had finished speaking, then he turned to Perdiccas and knelt.
'I hope, sire, that when we have succeeded you will not hold it against me that I served your father's murderer? I had no hand in it.'
Perdiccas looked down at the man, then laid his hand on his shoulder. 'I will forgive you that, Attalus. And I will see you rewarded for this night's work.'
The three men left the room, Attalus leading the way through the palace to the corridor before the King's apartments. There the brothers waited while he strode forward to where the two black-cloaked guards were sitting outside the bedroom door.
Attalus gestured to the guards to follow him and walked on. The men rose, glanced at one another, then moved to the end of the corridor where Attalus waited.
'Have you seen anything suspicious?' Attalus whispered.
'In what way, sir?' asked one of the men. Behind the guards the princes had moved out into the open. Attalus found his mouth dry. This is madness, he thought.
'Have you seen anyone in the corridor this evening?' he enquired, as the brothers crept towards the bedroom door.
'Only you, sir. And the King himself. Is there some trouble?'
'Probably not. But be vigilant.' Philip had opened the door, both princes were slipping inside.
'Of course, sir. We don't sleep on duty.'
Attalus watched the door of the bedchamber close. 'The world offers many surprises,' he said.
'Sometimes a man just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'
'I don't understand,' the man replied.
'No, I am afraid you don't,' answered Attalus, his dagger flashing into the man's throat. The second guard stood rooted to the spot for a moment, then grabbed for his sword, but Attalus tore his dagger free and plunged the point through the man's eye.
From the King's bedchamber came a terrible scream. Attalus ran forward, throwing open the door.
Ptolemaos lay half out of the bed with two swords jutting from his chest and belly. The King fell to the floor and tried to drag himself towards Attalus, but Philip ran forward wrenching loose his sword. Ptolemaos screamed again — then the blade hacked through his neck.
Philip rose, turned and knelt before Perdiccas.
'You will never have to kneel to me,' promised the new King of Macedonia, lifting Philip to his feet. 'And I will never forget what you have done for me.'
The Temple, Summer, 359 BC
In the eleven years since Parmenion's victory at Leuctra, Derae had suffered many strange dreams -
visions of darkness and evil, demon-haunted and terrifying. At first Tamis would appear in her dreams, rescuing her, telling her of the servants of the Dark God who sought to destroy them both.