Philip:
You remember Prometheus, who stole the secret of fire and gave it to man. It made Zeus so angry he chained Prometheus to a rock in the great Caucasus and each day, his eagle pecked out the poor man’s liver. Each night, it grew back again so that it could be eaten the next day. Miserable fate.
Oedipus, tore out his eyes when he found out he’d murdered his father and married his mother. Knowledge that came too late.
Jason, he went east and brought back the Golden Fleece, and married a barbarian wife, Medea. Later, when he left her for a younger wife, Medea slaughtered their two children in vengeance.
Young Alexander:
My mother would never hurt me.
Philip:
It’s never easy to escape our mothers, Alexander. All your life, beware of women. They’re far more dangerous than men.
I’m sure you remember Achilles from Tales of Troy.
Young Alexander:
He’s my favorite.
Philip:
Why?
Young Alexander:
Because he loved Patroclus and avenged his death. Because he lived without fear, and slew Hector.
Philip:
Some say he was a hotheaded fool who fought for himself and not the Greeks.
Young Alexander:
But he was a hero, the greatest at Troy.
Philip:
And his fate?
Young Alexander:
That he must die young but with great glory.
Philip:
Did he have a choice?
Young Alexander:
Oh, yes. He could have a long life, but there would be no glory.
Philip:
You dream of glory, Alexander. Your mother encourages you.
There’s no glory without suffering… And this, she will not allow. She makes you weak.
The gods have never made it easy for man. Look, Herakles. Even after he accomplished his 12 labors, he was punished with madness, slaughtered his three children. Poor Herakles. Great Herakles. All greatness comes from loss.
Even you, the gods will one day judge harshly.
Young Alexander:
When I’m king like you, father?
Philip:
Don’t rush the day, boy. You risk all.
My father threw me into battle before I even knew how to fight.
When I kill my first man, he said: Now you know. I hate him then, but I understand why now.
A king isn’t born, Alexander. He’s made, by steel and by suffering. A king must know how to hurt those he loves. It’s lonely. Ask Herakles. Ask any of them. Fate is cruel. No man or woman can be too powerful or too beautiful without disaster befalling.
They laugh when you rise too high and crush everything you’ve built with a whim.
What glory they give, in the end, they take away. They make us slaves.
Truth is in our hearts, and none will tell you this but your father. Men hate the gods.
The only reason we worship any them is because we fear worse.
Young Alexander:
What’s worse?
Philip:
The Titans. If they were ever to be set free, it would be a darkness such as we have never seen before.
Young Alexander:
Could they ever come back? Can Zeus imprison the Titans forever under Mount Olympus?
Philip:
It’s said that when Zeus burned them to dust with his lightning bolt, they took the Titan’s ashes and, in cold revenge mixed it with those of mortal men.
Young Alexander:
Why?
Philip:
Who knows these things? One day, things will change. Men will change. But first, the gods must change. But all this you’ll forget, Alexander. That’s why we call them myths. We can’t bear to remember them.
Young Alexander:
I’ll remember. And some day, I’ll be on walls like this.
0 comments:
Post a Comment