“And it came to pass that more than four hundred years before the birth of Christ the orphan princess, Myrtale who would become Olympias, Queen Of The Macedones and mother of The Great Alexander, spent a season by the sea. Look into this mirror which I have polished and see the girl who would become the woman, Olympias, mother of a God.” ...................Kallistos A Season By The Sea In the heat of Summer. King Arybbas moved his court to the seashore; it was the best time of year for Myrtale. There was a great stone fort there built high up on the cliffs overlooking the Adriatic where she shared rooms at the very top, in the women’s quarters, with her sister, Troas. There were many tall windows and through Myrtale’s came the lovely breath of Lord Poseidon. cool, salted, and moist, like a kiss which kissed her all over at once. She loved it; she was happier there than anywhere else in the world. Looking down from the windows, she could see the docks and the market which was a constant spectacle of ever changing colors and sounds. Great ships arrived all summer long bearing a never ending stream of strange goods and stranger men from all over the world. If she pressed her eye against the wooden lattice which protected the women from view, she could see the whole scene spread out before her. She spent hours just watching. She was, of course, never permitted to go into the marketplace. She could always tell at once when a ship was sighted on the horizon. The sound of the market place changed; its pace quickened and intensified. She would hear the changes and run to the window as the big ship, sails furled, rowed into the Epiriote port. The Athenian ships with their big blue eyes always rowed in so fast that they seemed to be attacking. When she told the king that the Athenians came in the fastest, he laughed. ‘ Well they would those Athenians, The always have to be the first no matter what, don’t they.?’ He threw back his head and laughed; Myrtale was happy to have made her uncle laugh. It made her feel more important. When the men from the ships came to see the king, the women would gather in the screened rooms facing the courtyard where they could see them close up. There were elegant Corinthians in bright colored chitons wearing the gold and jewels for which they were so famous. There were grim Spartans all in drab colors dressed for war, and once, the strangest of them all, the wild men from the north of the land of The Illyrians, called Keltoi. They looked more like terrible spirits than men. They were taller than anyone else and as pale as women. They had bright gold hair which stood up all over and made them look like terrifying furies. Myrtale gasped and shrank back from the screen. her sister, Troas, said that the men only slept with each other, but Myrtale didn’t believe her. Where would the children come from; Troas was such a fool. Though she was not allowed to go to the market herself, some of the merchants sent goods for the royal ladies to inspect. They would haggle with the gatekeeper for some time about his commission and the slave women would carry the goods to the women’s rooms on the upper floors and spread them out on the smooth polished oak floor. There were wonders from all over the world, things she would never see in Dodona. There were fabrics so wonderfully woven that she ached to wear them, but they were far to costly to even think of buying. The women carefully examined them and discussed the weave trying to discover how to reproduce them. Sometimes they would buy a small piece and try to copy it. Usually the merchant would sell the whole piece a hands breadth at a time all over his trading route. He well knew what the ladies were up to and charged a higher rate for the smaller pieces. On occasions, fabulous jewelry would be sent for their inspection. The women would pass the jewels around and everyone would try on each piece and admire herself in a polished mirror. Myrtale loved it all. She had earrings of real gold; the king had given them to her and a matching pair to her sister. He had given a necklace of little golden doves to Troas, but he did not give one to her; she pretended to hate it. ‘ Someday I shall have it; someday I shall have all of it.’ She promised herself over and over again. One afternoon four slaves came struggling through the door with a heavy bundle. The women had been spinning and they put their wool away in neat piles to watch with interest as the strangely shaped bundle was unrolled. When they saw it they all hurried to gather round. It was some sort of a great tooth or fang. It was bigger than Myrtale. It was ivory through and through and they said it came from a beast as large as the palace at Dodona. It was terrifying to think of what beast could have a tooth so hugh. ‘ Does It live very far away?’. Myrtale cried. ‘ very very far princess, so far that it can never come here.’ Her guardian, Medea said soothingly. Still Myrtale eyed the object suspiciously. She clearly did not like it one bit. For the rest of her life,even when she was the greatest of queens, she never liked ivory. It had been in that summer when she was nearly twelve years old that the women’s household had gone down to the sea. Very early in the morning as the sun was rising over the hills, the girls were awakened and dressed in long chitons so that the sun might not blacken them. They had to wear the sandals which they never wore indoors, and each was given a big straw hat with a brim which stuck out so far that you couldn’t see their faces at all when you looked down upon them. The hats were tied on with leather thongs under their chins. Myrtale thought that is was great fun, all but the sandals; she never in all her years to come, liked shoes of any kind. Piled in the courtyard were big baskets of food and amphoras of water and wine. Carts were already filled with tents and poles and wooden chests filled with straw for breakable things. Myrtale and Troas chattered and giggled at every single thing as they watched the slaves loading the carts. The guardian, Medea eyed them suspiciously; there would be no controlling those girls today. The two princesses along with their nurses and the midget guardian, Medea were handed into a wagon drawn by four mules. It had a framework of fresh cut tree branches over the top and their still green leaves made a cool little bower to shade them from the sun and the prying eyes of the people. It was to be a real journey. They would travel ten kilometers to the south to find a little protected sandy cove where they would spend the whole day. Old Stratolas, the captain of the household guard, rode in front with ten armed cavalry men, ten more would follow in the rear. The king would allow no chances to be taken with this precious cargo, Having spent most oft their lives confined to closed rooms in the upper stories of guarded buildings, the princesses were beside themselves with excitement. They fought over who was to sit where and ogled the young soldiers from under the rims of their big hats dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter every few minutes. The nurses scolded and little Medea sat staring straight ahead in grim resignation. This was clearly none of her doing. The strange entourage made quite a spectacle in the backwaters of Epiros. The mounted soldiers had polished and preened themselves for the journey and the gaily painted cart with its great spoked wheels and leafy bower of royal princesses caused all work to stop along the way. The people stood along the dirt road as the little parade passed smiling and waving. The girls smiled and waved back. It was a great treat for all. The people would long remember and talk about when they had first seen the greatest of queens. When they reached the cove, the carts had to be left in the hills as the descent was far too steep for them. as the slaves climbed up and down the cliffs with the food and baggage, the soldiers formed a wide semi circle with their backs to the girls. No man would dare turn; it was death, certain and without honor, to do so. The girls made a break for it the moment they spotted the beach. Trailing a train of screaming nurses, they headed straight for the water, sat down, and began unlacing their own sandals. Neither was adept at the operation and it took some effort. With startling agility, the midget, Medea bounded down the rocky hill like a mountain goat leaping from stone to stone as if it were a proper stairway. In a flash, her shadow fell upon the princesses. She knelt without a word and began to remove Myrtale’s sandals. As the girls splashed in the surf, the slaves put up the big tent. It was the king’s campaign tent and quite regal. It arose from the sand with astonishing speed for something so large, These slaves had put it up and taken it down many times in their lives. Its bright red dyed hides made a vivid stroke of color against the gray cliffs. On the top of the center post was the white bleached skull of a horse crested with bright red horsehair waving in the breeze. It could be picked out at a great distance as it was meant to be. It announced to all a royal presence. By now the girls were shrieking with delight as they dove and bobbed in the water. Their white summer linen tunics clung to them heavy with sea water and the tiny stones washed into them by the constant waves. The sounds of the waves crashing, the girls screaming, and the slaves pounding stakes into the sand made a wild cacophony unnatural to the sunny morning on the bright coast of Epiros. Myrtale saw it coming. A wave bigger than all the others was speeding toward the girls. She turned toward it and dove under as it passed over her. Suddenly all was silence. In the eerie green light she could see the sunlight far far above her and she swam up as fast as she could. She feared she might not be able to hold her breath long enough to reach the air. There was a humming in her head and she felt as if she were going to sleep as she broke through the water and into the clear air with a gasp. Laughing, she rode the wave to the shore and knelt in the surf smiling as the nurses ran toward her. For a moment she had rested in the arms of Lord Posiedon. He had held her in his great arms and saved her. She felt quite special. It was most certainly, an omen. The nurses washed the girls with sponges dipped in fresh water. They were dried with soft hides and oiled all over to prevent their skin from becoming dried and hard from the salt water and the sun. The beauty of a princess is a matter of state importance. Dressed in fresh dry linen tunics, they were let into the dark warm tent for food and rest. Myrtale felt that she must surely be close to starvation. Food was spread out on little carved tables placed upon the soft carpets. they all sat on cushions and without ceremony, dove into the food. There were round flat loaves of dark bread with scallions and pine nuts baked in them which they tore apart and dipped into fine olive oil. There were the little black olives from Sparta dried in the sun all chewy and delicious. There was creamy white goat cheese wrapped in wine soaked cloth, very sharp and pungent. They had fresh water mixed with a little sweet wine as was thought proper for the girls. They all had a fine time eating and drinking too much in the king’s tent by the sea and without the slightest attempt at court decorum. The girls and their nurses were happy and laughing on that day in Epiros in the early days of Myrtale’s life. Even Medea wore a cat-like smile as she stuffed her tiny body with food. After they had eaten as much as they could they all went to sleep right there on the carpets amidst all the debris of their meal. No one gave a thought to calling the slaves to remove the mess. Medea was lying flat on her back with her mouth wide open snoring so loudly that the soldiers at their posts outside the tent could hear her and laugh. Myrtale, more asleep than awake, studied the dwarfs broken teeth all yellow and jagged. Troas was sleeping all curled up in a ball pressed tightly against her nurses stomach entirely oblivious to the loud snoring. “ Isn’t that just like her, how could any normal person sleep with all that noise?” She too was very sleepy, but there was no hope of a nap in all that din. She helped herself to a cup of the sweet wine. She had never tasted wine without water. It was altogether different that way, sweet and dark tasting with a bite. She had a second little cup and that was enough; it was far too sweet. She picked her way carefully and silently through the sleeping bodies on the carpet. with one finger she slowly moved an edge of the tent flap to see the backs of two guards standing firmly before the way out. Quiet as a breeze she slipped through the flap and around the side of the tent out of sight. It would be nice up on the top of the cliffs under the trees, but she dared not attempt the climb. The soldiers would surely spot her and make a big fuss. All she wanted was a little nap. She was feeling quite tired now. She found, not faraway, a tiny grotto formed by rocks by the sea. There was an overhang to shade her from the sun and there were two big boulders so close together that she could only just squeeze between them. It seemed just the spot for a private nap. She curled in a ball in the cool moist sand. To the hypnotic rhythm of the sound of the surf she went at once to sleep. The guard was mainly ceremonial. The soldiers from the palace took turns looking over the group of women. Some ate and rested as others watched intently in every direction. two young guards on rest time wandered down to the water’s edge to wade in the surf. The great boulders blocked the view from the tent and they felt safely unobserved. They were special friends and laughed easily together in the clear sunlight of the Adriatic shore. They stuck their swords into the sand with the hilts upright and at the ready and propped their shields against them. ‘ Come Andromachus, let’s swim.’, one soldier said to the other. ‘ Dare we, Argaeus ?’, Andromachus answered. ‘ Oh, come on Andromachus, don’t be such a little girl. They’re all asleep in there. Just listen to the old witch snoring; she’s out for the duration. No one will ever know.’ Andromachus flashed a sly smile. There was no way he could reject a dare from Argaeus, even if it cost him his life. The two men unlaced each other’s sandals, dropped their tunics and ran naked into the sea. Laughing and spitting salty water, they dunked each other under the waves and fought mock battles in the surf. Suddenly Argaeus ran through the shallow water onto the damp sand. He bent and drew a wide circle in the sand with his finger and crouched in the classic position of a Greek wrestler facing Andromachus with a fierce, intent warrior’s glare. Andromachus ran through the water with his head back laughing, his bronze hair now dark with salty water. He jumped into the circle and crouched with his arms outstretched trying to look as fierce as Argaeus, but unable to keep from laughing. Argaeus made the first lunge, grabbing for the waist while using his shoulder as a shield and, at the same time trying with his foot to kick Andromachus’s leg out from under him. It was all done very professionally in a split second, but he lost his footing in the loose sand and fell to the ground dragging Andromachus down on top of him. For an instant the world stopped as they simply looked into each others souls through their eyes. Argaeus abrubtly threw Andromachus away and into the sands. The sound of the laughter awakened Myrtale slowly. It was men and they were laughing. as if they were having fun and playing. Myrtale wanted to see. She arose slowly and peered cautiously around the edge of the boulder. There were two young men. One was helping the other up from the sand, but they were fighting and they were laughing at the same time. They were naked. She had seen lots of statues and paintings of naked men and many little boys like her brother, Alexander, but never a real live naked man. They were beautiful, just like the Gods. Perhaps they were Gods. If only they would stand quite still they could be taken for sculptures of heroes. They had fine young bodies all hard and shiny in the sun and long hair and short beards glistening with water and sweat. They were laughing and fighting at the same time. Myrtale thought they were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She determined right then and there that she would marry a beautiful laughing man just like one of those. Myrtale! it was an animal shriek of horror from the dwarf Medea. The two men grabbed their swords and shields and, scooping up their tunics and sandals made a dash for the cliffs. ‘ Curse that little witch, she frightens even the Gods.’ thought Myrtale. “And Myrtale’s season by the sea would come to an end as all seasons do. The mirror grows dark now as Myrtale’s life changes yet again. If you gaze into my polished mirror once more you shall see her fateful visit to Samothrake. Where she shall meet her man, not young and not handsome, but a king over such men.” ................Kallistos