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She remembered how they used to laugh behind her back.
That was one of her earliest memory.
First, they laughed at her for who her mother was - the strange Illyrian. Later, they laughed when her mother was pushed aside for a younger bride and then they laughed when she began carrying a dagger at her side.
She had been five or six when her mother pulled her away from the other children in the royal nursery and took her to her own private chambers. She remembered being dragged into a separate room that led to a closed off courtyard. The walls and chests in this room were not filled with the things usually found in the chambers of proper ladies and wives.
Mesmerized she had watched her mother pull back the lids and drapes to reveal weapon after weapon to her.
“You are my only child.” She put a hand on her tiny shoulders. “This is your inheritance.” She placed a dagger in her hand – it clattered to the floor.
“Cynane, you are an Illyrian Princess and a warrior. Or are you a coward?”
With her mother’s gaze upon hers, Cynane reached down and picked up the dagger. It felt heavy.
“I am not afraid.”
“Good, for the path you will tread will be one full of fear and uncertainty. But I know you will prevail. I shall show you how and you will never be confined like the other women, you will be strong.”
Her mother had never been tender to her but on this day she had held her tight in her arms the dagger trapped between them.
Her education in the art of war began in earnest.
She was just the right age to understand that weapons were dangerous but young enough to be molded. Her mother would beat the weakness out of her.
After Alexander’s birth, she couldn’t help but hate her younger half-sibling.
In truth, she was jealous he would be her father’s heir. Why were women seen as less than? Couldn’t she fight as well as him?
By the time she was old enough to attend social functions her skin had been tanned by the sun, her hands chapped and coarse as though she was a farmer’s daughter. Her hair was kept in a simple braid and she wore short tunics for fighting. Her only adornment was an armband her mother had given her, she wore it with pride.
In a court of swans, she was an oddity – a perfect copy of her mother.
She didn’t know she should have been ashamed until another of her father’s wives Phillipina pushed her off a couch saying that a filthy barbarian such as herself would ruin the fine silk of the cushions.
She hadn’t cried or blushed she had merely attacked with closed fists before her mother pulled her off the screeching woman.
She received her first real flogging that day but in her heart, she did not regret her actions.
Her father had been amused by her antics though the other wives and women of the court had been displeased. She was a wild animal.
When she turned twelve her mother had her sit with teachers learning to play instruments, embroidery, and other womanly skills to give her more of a balance. That was when Cynane learned there was a difference between men and women.
She learned that while her father patted her head whenever she asked to go to war with him and gave her horses to ride he did not take her seriously. Her future would lay in marriage, children and looking after her husband’s household. She scoffed at this expectation and even complained to her mother who pointed out that even she had married. She ran to her father begging him to let her be his personal guard; she was ready to lay down her life for him. He had laughed.
The laughing stopped when she managed to pin Antipater’s son down in the sand. She had been sixteen.
She was no longer mocked when she picked up a spear or was seen training in the courtyard. Her mother’s proud face was all she could see as she trained and the fact that the laughter had stopped. Slowly, she was changing her own destiny.
Then a few years later her mother casually mentioned her father had found a match for her. She wanted to wail and stamp her feet as though she was a little girl. She marched into her father’s rooms wearing her leather breastplate and tunic demanding to know why she was being punished.
He said he would have her flogged if she didn’t watch her tongue but she squared her shoulders back and said if that meant she would not have to marry then so be it.
Somehow this managed to bring a smile to his face. Olympias was by his side and whispered in his ear.
They reached a compromise. She would meet this future husband of hers and if she could find a reason not to marry him then they would look for another match but the next match she would have to accept without complaint.
Cynane agreed.
That was one of her earliest memory.
First, they laughed at her for who her mother was - the strange Illyrian. Later, they laughed when her mother was pushed aside for a younger bride and then they laughed when she began carrying a dagger at her side.
She had been five or six when her mother pulled her away from the other children in the royal nursery and took her to her own private chambers. She remembered being dragged into a separate room that led to a closed off courtyard. The walls and chests in this room were not filled with the things usually found in the chambers of proper ladies and wives.
Mesmerized she had watched her mother pull back the lids and drapes to reveal weapon after weapon to her.
“You are my only child.” She put a hand on her tiny shoulders. “This is your inheritance.” She placed a dagger in her hand – it clattered to the floor.
“Cynane, you are an Illyrian Princess and a warrior. Or are you a coward?”
With her mother’s gaze upon hers, Cynane reached down and picked up the dagger. It felt heavy.
“I am not afraid.”
“Good, for the path you will tread will be one full of fear and uncertainty. But I know you will prevail. I shall show you how and you will never be confined like the other women, you will be strong.”
Her mother had never been tender to her but on this day she had held her tight in her arms the dagger trapped between them.
Her education in the art of war began in earnest.
She was just the right age to understand that weapons were dangerous but young enough to be molded. Her mother would beat the weakness out of her.
After Alexander’s birth, she couldn’t help but hate her younger half-sibling.
In truth, she was jealous he would be her father’s heir. Why were women seen as less than? Couldn’t she fight as well as him?
By the time she was old enough to attend social functions her skin had been tanned by the sun, her hands chapped and coarse as though she was a farmer’s daughter. Her hair was kept in a simple braid and she wore short tunics for fighting. Her only adornment was an armband her mother had given her, she wore it with pride.
In a court of swans, she was an oddity – a perfect copy of her mother.
She didn’t know she should have been ashamed until another of her father’s wives Phillipina pushed her off a couch saying that a filthy barbarian such as herself would ruin the fine silk of the cushions.
She hadn’t cried or blushed she had merely attacked with closed fists before her mother pulled her off the screeching woman.
She received her first real flogging that day but in her heart, she did not regret her actions.
Her father had been amused by her antics though the other wives and women of the court had been displeased. She was a wild animal.
When she turned twelve her mother had her sit with teachers learning to play instruments, embroidery, and other womanly skills to give her more of a balance. That was when Cynane learned there was a difference between men and women.
She learned that while her father patted her head whenever she asked to go to war with him and gave her horses to ride he did not take her seriously. Her future would lay in marriage, children and looking after her husband’s household. She scoffed at this expectation and even complained to her mother who pointed out that even she had married. She ran to her father begging him to let her be his personal guard; she was ready to lay down her life for him. He had laughed.
The laughing stopped when she managed to pin Antipater’s son down in the sand. She had been sixteen.
She was no longer mocked when she picked up a spear or was seen training in the courtyard. Her mother’s proud face was all she could see as she trained and the fact that the laughter had stopped. Slowly, she was changing her own destiny.
Then a few years later her mother casually mentioned her father had found a match for her. She wanted to wail and stamp her feet as though she was a little girl. She marched into her father’s rooms wearing her leather breastplate and tunic demanding to know why she was being punished.
He said he would have her flogged if she didn’t watch her tongue but she squared her shoulders back and said if that meant she would not have to marry then so be it.
Somehow this managed to bring a smile to his face. Olympias was by his side and whispered in his ear.
They reached a compromise. She would meet this future husband of hers and if she could find a reason not to marry him then they would look for another match but the next match she would have to accept without complaint.
Cynane agreed.
Amyntas arrived in Pella with all the pomp of an aristocrat but he seemed uneasy being in the public eye even as he sat tall in the saddle of his horse. Cynane had been behind her father among some of the other ladies when he greeted the new arrival. The official reason for his visit was to attend the festival of the Hetairideia but he was also here to meet her.
She stared openly at this man dressed in a dark green tunic.
“He’s handsome.” Cleopatra giggled at her side.
Cynane nudged her half-sister to be silent. When she turned back she saw that Amyntas studying her as well. Perhaps, she should have been more modest and looked away but she met his gaze head on.
Then her father was leading him inside promising a feast in his honor tonight. That was just an excuse to eat and drink all night. Cynane could see the steward of the household already tallying in his head how much wine would be needed and how much this would all cost.
She retreated to her rooms and changed into her armor to go train. She would not be needed until later and there was no reason not to continue on her day as usual.
Antipater's son Iollas was one of the men who did not balk at training with her. Ever since she had beat him at hand-to-hand combat he had come to admire her.
Men respected strength and that is what she wished to embody. When she wasn’t fighting or confined to the house by chores she was out hunting with the men. They liked to call her the Artemis of Macedonia for her love of hunting and apparent fighting ability. However, she had just as many enemies as admirers. There were plenty out there who disapproved but as long as her father did not protest there was nothing much they could do.
She still harbored dreams of leading an army herself but knew it was not likely to happen anytime soon.
As she was returning from the training yard she came across Amyntas walking past with a retinue of men. She hid behind a pillar and watched him as he went. He was quick to smile she noted though she did not think she would be so happy if she had been in his position.
Her own father had taken the throne of Macedonia from him when he was still a young child. Anyone would have thought he would be full of resentment but by all accounts he lived in Amphipolis content with his lot in life.
That night she followed her mother’s instructions and put away her manly tunics for a gown. Cynane felt awkward in the flowing orange material. She feared she would trip and then the women would have another reason to laugh.
Cleopatra came into her room with a jewelry box.
“I brought you some pearls.” She smiled up at her big sister and could barely hide her shock at seeing her in such a luxurious dress.
They had never been too close but Cleopatra thought Cynane was a curiosity without, judging her. Her younger sister by four years she was already more knowledgeable than her when it came to fashion and proper behavior at public events. It was her nudging and whispering that helped Cynane avoid embarrassing moments.
There was nothing Cynane could teach her in return but she took her to see the horses in the stables and gave her little trinkets or jewels that she had no use for.
“Perhaps, I should have brought my jet beads.” Cleopatra frowned. “The white pearls won’t match as well with the orange in your gown.”
“It’s fine.” Cynane shrugged. How would being able to coordinate an outfit help her on the battlefield?
“You aren’t going to battle,” Cleopatra spoke up as though reading her mind. “You need to outshine all the ladies tonight to catch his attention.”
Cynane patted her head and thanked her for taking the time to bring her the pearls.
“They are perfect. Besides, I could never outshine you or your mother.”
Cleopatra brightened at the compliment. She was as vain as any other girl her age. “I should go finish getting ready. I ran away from my maid.” With that, she left the rooms.
Her mother pulled the rope of pearls from the box, Cynane could see she was hiding a smile.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking you’d make a good envoy as well as a warrior with your ability to pacify everyone.” She draped the pearls around her daughter’s neck. “Be on your best behavior tonight.”
“I will. Look I haven’t even strapped any weapons to my belt.”
The night progressed slowly. She struggled to hold back yawns as she sat back among her female relatives. The men were boisterous as ever and once they got too rowdy it was likely they’d retire for the night.
Cynane had been scrutinizing Amyntas from afar. Her initial impression seemed to be correct.
In a world of warriors, he was a pacifist.
So when she looked at him all she could see was weakness. It should have disgusted her but his smile made her want to smile as well. His laugh made her want to laugh too.
Finally, her mother pulled her over to introduce them formally.
He had smiled warmly at her and she was tempted to blurt out that he should not look at her that way.
Urged by her mother she sat with him on a more private couch near the back of the great hall. She was supposed to get to know him better and make a decision by the time he left.
She wasn’t sure how to begin. She rarely talked about anything other than war and he seemed to abhor it.
“You live in Amphipolis?” She asked.
“Yes, for a few years now. I oversaw the renovations of the fortress there.” He went on talking about the city for several minutes before he caught sight of her struggling to hold back a yawn and he laughed. “But you don’t care too much about that do you?”
She did not apologize. “Can I ask you why would you want to marry me? I am not like other women. I will never marry a man who wouldn’t let me continue my training and would prevent me from riding into battle.”
He stopped her, holding up his hands and she saw how smooth and soft they looked – the complete opposite of her callused ones.
“I would never prevent you from doing what you wished.” After a pause, he added. “If we were married that is.”
She frowned. This would have been her major reason for denying to accept marrying him. “Why?”
“Why not?” He countered. “I heard you are quite the horsewoman.”
“And I’m good with a sword,” Cynane added boastfully. “What about you?”
“I have been trained in all manner of combat.” He was being elusive.
“You don’t like to fight.” She regretted the way that sounded. She did not want to make such a bold accusation.
“No, I do not. I prefer to stay on my estate and oversee my own affairs. I guess I am more of an administrator than a fighter. You do not approve.” He accused catching her frown.
Cynane looked at him boldly for a moment before turning away. “I suppose I am not one to judge. I am not your typical woman just like you aren’t the typical man.”
“We are both oddities.” He agreed and she laughed for she had always been told she was peculiar but he made it sound like a compliment, not an insult.
They met a few times in the following days. Sometimes it was on formal occasions and others it was with only a chaperon watching them. She kept looking for reasons to reject him but could not find any except for her own reluctance to marry.
By the time, he was due to leave her father called her into his study.
“So?” He waited for her reply.
“I have a stipulation before I agree to anything.” She said boldly.
He arched his eyebrow but by now he wasn’t surprised by anything that came out of her mouth.
“I wish to prolong the engagement so I can go with you to battle the next time you go. Just three years – Amyntas agreed…” Her voice was faltering as she spoke.
“You know I don’t want you on the battlefield.” He frowned. “Amyntas would agree to anything.” He was about to send her away but she pressed forward finding her courage again.
“Father, this is my birthright. I have proven I am a skilled warrior. Allow me to go and I shall do my duty.”
She spoke with such a fervor that he finally relented and with a nod of his head it was done.
She stared openly at this man dressed in a dark green tunic.
“He’s handsome.” Cleopatra giggled at her side.
Cynane nudged her half-sister to be silent. When she turned back she saw that Amyntas studying her as well. Perhaps, she should have been more modest and looked away but she met his gaze head on.
Then her father was leading him inside promising a feast in his honor tonight. That was just an excuse to eat and drink all night. Cynane could see the steward of the household already tallying in his head how much wine would be needed and how much this would all cost.
She retreated to her rooms and changed into her armor to go train. She would not be needed until later and there was no reason not to continue on her day as usual.
Antipater's son Iollas was one of the men who did not balk at training with her. Ever since she had beat him at hand-to-hand combat he had come to admire her.
Men respected strength and that is what she wished to embody. When she wasn’t fighting or confined to the house by chores she was out hunting with the men. They liked to call her the Artemis of Macedonia for her love of hunting and apparent fighting ability. However, she had just as many enemies as admirers. There were plenty out there who disapproved but as long as her father did not protest there was nothing much they could do.
She still harbored dreams of leading an army herself but knew it was not likely to happen anytime soon.
As she was returning from the training yard she came across Amyntas walking past with a retinue of men. She hid behind a pillar and watched him as he went. He was quick to smile she noted though she did not think she would be so happy if she had been in his position.
Her own father had taken the throne of Macedonia from him when he was still a young child. Anyone would have thought he would be full of resentment but by all accounts he lived in Amphipolis content with his lot in life.
That night she followed her mother’s instructions and put away her manly tunics for a gown. Cynane felt awkward in the flowing orange material. She feared she would trip and then the women would have another reason to laugh.
Cleopatra came into her room with a jewelry box.
“I brought you some pearls.” She smiled up at her big sister and could barely hide her shock at seeing her in such a luxurious dress.
They had never been too close but Cleopatra thought Cynane was a curiosity without, judging her. Her younger sister by four years she was already more knowledgeable than her when it came to fashion and proper behavior at public events. It was her nudging and whispering that helped Cynane avoid embarrassing moments.
There was nothing Cynane could teach her in return but she took her to see the horses in the stables and gave her little trinkets or jewels that she had no use for.
“Perhaps, I should have brought my jet beads.” Cleopatra frowned. “The white pearls won’t match as well with the orange in your gown.”
“It’s fine.” Cynane shrugged. How would being able to coordinate an outfit help her on the battlefield?
“You aren’t going to battle,” Cleopatra spoke up as though reading her mind. “You need to outshine all the ladies tonight to catch his attention.”
Cynane patted her head and thanked her for taking the time to bring her the pearls.
“They are perfect. Besides, I could never outshine you or your mother.”
Cleopatra brightened at the compliment. She was as vain as any other girl her age. “I should go finish getting ready. I ran away from my maid.” With that, she left the rooms.
Her mother pulled the rope of pearls from the box, Cynane could see she was hiding a smile.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking you’d make a good envoy as well as a warrior with your ability to pacify everyone.” She draped the pearls around her daughter’s neck. “Be on your best behavior tonight.”
“I will. Look I haven’t even strapped any weapons to my belt.”
The night progressed slowly. She struggled to hold back yawns as she sat back among her female relatives. The men were boisterous as ever and once they got too rowdy it was likely they’d retire for the night.
Cynane had been scrutinizing Amyntas from afar. Her initial impression seemed to be correct.
In a world of warriors, he was a pacifist.
So when she looked at him all she could see was weakness. It should have disgusted her but his smile made her want to smile as well. His laugh made her want to laugh too.
Finally, her mother pulled her over to introduce them formally.
He had smiled warmly at her and she was tempted to blurt out that he should not look at her that way.
Urged by her mother she sat with him on a more private couch near the back of the great hall. She was supposed to get to know him better and make a decision by the time he left.
She wasn’t sure how to begin. She rarely talked about anything other than war and he seemed to abhor it.
“You live in Amphipolis?” She asked.
“Yes, for a few years now. I oversaw the renovations of the fortress there.” He went on talking about the city for several minutes before he caught sight of her struggling to hold back a yawn and he laughed. “But you don’t care too much about that do you?”
She did not apologize. “Can I ask you why would you want to marry me? I am not like other women. I will never marry a man who wouldn’t let me continue my training and would prevent me from riding into battle.”
He stopped her, holding up his hands and she saw how smooth and soft they looked – the complete opposite of her callused ones.
“I would never prevent you from doing what you wished.” After a pause, he added. “If we were married that is.”
She frowned. This would have been her major reason for denying to accept marrying him. “Why?”
“Why not?” He countered. “I heard you are quite the horsewoman.”
“And I’m good with a sword,” Cynane added boastfully. “What about you?”
“I have been trained in all manner of combat.” He was being elusive.
“You don’t like to fight.” She regretted the way that sounded. She did not want to make such a bold accusation.
“No, I do not. I prefer to stay on my estate and oversee my own affairs. I guess I am more of an administrator than a fighter. You do not approve.” He accused catching her frown.
Cynane looked at him boldly for a moment before turning away. “I suppose I am not one to judge. I am not your typical woman just like you aren’t the typical man.”
“We are both oddities.” He agreed and she laughed for she had always been told she was peculiar but he made it sound like a compliment, not an insult.
They met a few times in the following days. Sometimes it was on formal occasions and others it was with only a chaperon watching them. She kept looking for reasons to reject him but could not find any except for her own reluctance to marry.
By the time, he was due to leave her father called her into his study.
“So?” He waited for her reply.
“I have a stipulation before I agree to anything.” She said boldly.
He arched his eyebrow but by now he wasn’t surprised by anything that came out of her mouth.
“I wish to prolong the engagement so I can go with you to battle the next time you go. Just three years – Amyntas agreed…” Her voice was faltering as she spoke.
“You know I don’t want you on the battlefield.” He frowned. “Amyntas would agree to anything.” He was about to send her away but she pressed forward finding her courage again.
“Father, this is my birthright. I have proven I am a skilled warrior. Allow me to go and I shall do my duty.”
She spoke with such a fervor that he finally relented and with a nod of his head it was done.
Her tent was set up beside her father’s and brother’s.
The Macedonian Army had ridden hard throughout the day to reach Illyria and the uprising led by Queen Caeria.
Cynane sat on her cot a whetstone in hand as she sharpened her spearhead in steady motions before moving on to her sword and dagger.
She took care of her own weapons not trusting anyone else with them.
Her father had been true to his word and let her ride out with him. He warned her that she would not be shown any special favors nor, could he afford to watch out for her. She retorted that she could take care of herself.
He had not made the same concerns when Alexander accompanied the army for the first time. She thought of this as she tested the sharpness of her blade. She would have to prove herself definitively on the battlefield tomorrow.
That night she dreamed of screaming horses charging into battle.
In the morning, she woke up early and got ready as fast as she could. A servant helped her with her armor and she strapped her weapons to her sides. She trailed her hand over the hilt of her new dagger. The hilt was carved into the shape of a horse’s head, a betrothal gift from Amyntas.
“Be safe, warrior.” He had written to her upon hearing she was to leave with her father’s army. She smiled thinking of him. Perhaps, one day she would pass on this dagger to her daughter and tell her how Amyntas had been brave enough to take on a warrior bride.
As she stepped out of her tent that morning she did so with confidence and an excitement she had never felt before.
The Greek battle-cry had pierced her heart: Alale!
The Macedonian Army had ridden hard throughout the day to reach Illyria and the uprising led by Queen Caeria.
Cynane sat on her cot a whetstone in hand as she sharpened her spearhead in steady motions before moving on to her sword and dagger.
She took care of her own weapons not trusting anyone else with them.
Her father had been true to his word and let her ride out with him. He warned her that she would not be shown any special favors nor, could he afford to watch out for her. She retorted that she could take care of herself.
He had not made the same concerns when Alexander accompanied the army for the first time. She thought of this as she tested the sharpness of her blade. She would have to prove herself definitively on the battlefield tomorrow.
That night she dreamed of screaming horses charging into battle.
In the morning, she woke up early and got ready as fast as she could. A servant helped her with her armor and she strapped her weapons to her sides. She trailed her hand over the hilt of her new dagger. The hilt was carved into the shape of a horse’s head, a betrothal gift from Amyntas.
“Be safe, warrior.” He had written to her upon hearing she was to leave with her father’s army. She smiled thinking of him. Perhaps, one day she would pass on this dagger to her daughter and tell her how Amyntas had been brave enough to take on a warrior bride.
As she stepped out of her tent that morning she did so with confidence and an excitement she had never felt before.
The Greek battle-cry had pierced her heart: Alale!
Afterword
In the end Cynane, killed the Illyrian Queen in hand to hand combat, earning her acclaim and respect. She would ride out into battle at the head of her own army several times. She perished on a battlefield allowing her daughter to reach her betrothed Phillip III after Alexander’s death in 323 BC.
To read more about the women in Alexander the Great’s life you can read: Fortuna’s Queen.
Copyright © 2016 by Anne R. Bailey
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.
In the end Cynane, killed the Illyrian Queen in hand to hand combat, earning her acclaim and respect. She would ride out into battle at the head of her own army several times. She perished on a battlefield allowing her daughter to reach her betrothed Phillip III after Alexander’s death in 323 BC.
To read more about the women in Alexander the Great’s life you can read: Fortuna’s Queen.
Copyright © 2016 by Anne R. Bailey
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.