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Alexander’s Reported Lovers

Just an FYI … Kampaspe (Campaspe in Latin, also Pancaste) is a character in the second volume of Dancing with the Lion (Rise), as I wanted a second female voice and also a slave’s perspective. Even better that she was born to privilege, then lost it. She was reportedly a Thessalian hetaira from Larissa, which was handy as the Argeads had a long history of ties to the city of Larissa. I wrote about her before in a post from the blog tour the publisher had me do when the books first came out. You can read it HERE.

That said, she’s probably a Roman-era invention, mentioned only by late sources (Lucian, Aelian, and Pliny) all with one (repeated) story: Alexander as Super-patron. Reputedly, he gave her to his favored painter Apelles when, commissioned to do a nude,  Apelles fell in love with her. Alexander kept the painting, Apelles got the girl. You bet I’ll have some fun with that. Kampaspe will remain a major character throughout the series…but not as Alexander’s mistress.

When trying to figure out how many sexual partners Alexander had, we must ask which were invented—or denied. Remember: ancient history wasn’t like modern (academic) history. It was essentially creative non-fiction. It inserted speeches, dialogue, even people and events to liven things up and/or to make a moral point. Or it obscured people and events, if that worked better.

Modern readers of ancient sources must always ask WHO wrote this, WHEN was it written, and what POINT did the author intend? Also, especially with anecdotes, look at the wider context. People are especially prone to take anecdotes at face value and treat them as isolated little tales. Yet CONTEXT IS KING.

A lot of our information about Alexander’s love life comes from Plutarch, either in his Life of Alexander or his collection of essays now called the Moralia. Another source is Curtius’s History of Alexander. And finally, Athenaeus’s Diepnosophistai or The Supper Party (really, The Learned Banqueters). All wrote during the Roman empire and had tropes and messages to get across.

Of the WOMEN associated with Alexander, I’m going to divide them into the historical and the probably fictional, or at least their relationship with Alexander was fictional.

Of the certain, we can count one mistress, three wives, and one probable secret/erased liaison.

Barsine is his first attested mistress for whom we have ample references across multiple sources. Supposedly, she bore Alexander a son (Herakles). Herakles certainly existed, but whether he was Alexander’s is less clear to me. As the half-Persian, half-Greek daughter of a significant satrap, she had no little influence. Monica D’Agostini has a great article on Alexander’s women, btw, in a forthcoming collection I edited for Colloquia Antiqua, called Macedon and Its Influences, and spends some time on Barsine. So look for that, probably in 2025, as we JUST (Friday) submitted the last of the proof corrections and index. Whoo! Anyway, Monica examines all Alexander’s (historical) women in—you guessed it!—their proper context.

Alexander also married three times: Roxane, daughter of the warlord Oxyartes of Sogdiana, in early 327. He married again in mid-324 in Susa, both Statiera (the younger), daughter of Darius, and Parysatis, youngest daughter of the king before Darius, Artaxerxes III Ochus. Yes, both at once, making ties to the older and the newer Achaemenid royal lines.

Out of all these, he had only one living son, Alexander IV (by Roxane)—although he got his women pregnant four times. If we can trust a late source (Metz Epitome), and I think we can for this, Roxane had a miscarriage while in India. Also, Statiera the younger was reputedly pregnant when Roxane, with Perdikkas’s help, killed her just a few days (or hours!) after Alexander died.

That’s 3 …who had baby #4?

Statiera the Elder, Darius’s wife. Netflix’s proposal of a liaison between them was not spun out of thin air. Plutarch—the same guy who tells us ATG never even looked at her—also tells us she died in childbirth just a week or three before the battle of Gaugamela, Oct. 1, 331. Keep in mind, Alexander had captured her right after Issos, Nov. 5, 333. Um … that kid wasn’t Darius’s. And if you think ANYbody would have been allowed to have an affair with such a high-ranking captive as the Great-King’s chief wife, I have some swampland in Florida to sell you. More on it HERE.

Now, for the probably fictional….

Kampaspe, I explained above.

Kallixena was supposedly hired by Philip and Olympias (jointly!) to initiate Alexander into sex, because he didn’t seem interested in women. (Yes, this little titbit is also in Rise.) Athenaeus reports the story as a digression on Alexander’s drinking, and how too much wine led to his lack of sexual interest. But within the anecdote, the reported reason for his parents’ hiring Kallixena was because mommy and daddy feared Alexander was “womanish” (gunnis).

Thaïs was linked to him by Athenaeus, almost certainly based on her supposed participation in the burning of Persepolis…which didn’t happen (or not as related; archaeology tosses cold water on it). Thaïs was Ptolemy’s mistress, and the mother of some of his children.

Athenaeus also mentions a couple unnamed interests, but all illustrate the same point: Alexander is too noble to steal somebody else’s love. Two are back-to-back: the flute-girl of a certain Theodoros, Proteas’ brother, and the lyre player of Antipatrides. The last is a boy, the eromenos of a certain Kalchis, a story related apart from the women, but with the same point.

Even more clearly fictional are his supposed encounters with the Amazon Queen Thalestris and Queen Kleophis of the Massaga (in Pakistan). Reportedly, as Onisikritos was reading from his history of Alexander at the court of King Lysimachos (who’d been a close friend, remember), Lysimachos burst out laughing when Onisikritos got to the Amazon story, and asked, “Where was I when this happened?”

Now, when it comes to his MEN/BOYS, the ice is thinner as no names are definitively given except Bagoas (in a couple sources, chiefly Curtius and Athenaeus). We also have a few generic references to pretty boys, as with Kalchis’s boyfriend mentioned above, and some slave boys offered by a certain Philoxenos, who he turns down, a story told by both Plutarch and Athenaeus.

Curtius alone suggests two more, but at least one is meant to show Alexander’s descent into Oriental Corruption(tm), so it’s possible Curtius made them up. At the very least, he used them for his own narrative purposes. Sabine Müller has a great article on this, albeit in German. Still, if you can read German: “Alexander, Dareios und Hephaistion. Fallhöhen bei Curtius Rufus.” In H. Wulfram, ed., Der Römische Alexanderhistoriker Curtius Rufus: Erzähltechnik, Rhetorik, Figurenpsychologie und Rezeption. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2016, 13-48.

Romans had a certain dis-ease with “Greek Love,” especially when it involved two freeborn men. Fucking slaves was fine; they’re just slaves. Citizen men with citizen boys…that’s trickier.

Curtius labels two youths “favorites,” a phrasing that implies a sexual affair. One is mentioned early in the campaign (Egypt) when Alexander is still “good”; the other after Alexander begins his slide into Persian Debauchery. These are Hektor, Parmenion’s son (good), and Euxinippos, described as being as pretty as Hephaistion, but not as “manly” (bad). Curtius employs Bagoas similarly, even claims he influenced imperial policy for his own dastardly goals. Gasp!

Yes, of course I’m being sarcastic, but readers need to understand the motifs that Curtius is employing, and what they really mean. Not what 21st century people assume they mean, or romantically want them to mean. (See my "Did Bagoas Exist?" post.)

What about Hephaistion? I’ve discussed him elsewhere in an article, but I’ll just remind folks that it’s nowhere made explicit until late sources, in large part because, by the time we meet Alexander and Hephaistion in the histories, they were adults, and any affair between them would be assumed to have occurred in the past, when they were youths. (See my “It’s Complicated” and a reply to them maybe being “DudeBros.”)

This is why we hear about Alexander’s interest in youths, not adult men. It would be WEIRD to the ancient mind (= Very Very Bad) if he liked adult men. In fact, by comparing Hephaistion to Euxinippos, Curtius slyly insinuates that maybe he and Alexander were still…you know (wink, wink). That’s meant to be a slam against Alexander (and Hephaistion)! Therefore, we cannot take it, in itself, as proof of anything. Alexander’s emotional attachment to Hephaistion, however, is not doubted by any ancient source.

So, all those people are attached to Alexander in our sources, but over half may not be real, or at least, may not have had a sexual relationship with him. There may be (probably are) some that simply didn’t make it into the surviving sources.

Yet I’ve mentioned before that we just don’t find sexual misconduct as one of Alexander’s named faults. Even Curtius and Justin must dig for it/make up shit, such as claiming Alexander actually used Darius’s whole harem of concubines or held a drunken revel through Karia after escaping the Gedrosian Desert. (Blue Dionysos and drag queens on the Seine at the Paris Olympics got nothing on his Dionysian komos!)

Drink, anger, hubris…he sure as hell ticked all those boxes. But not sex. In fact, a number of sources imply he just wasn’t that randy, despite his “choleric” temperament. Some of the authors credit too much drink (bad), others, his supreme self-control (good). He’s more often an example of sexual continence—as in the stories from Athenaeus related above. He also didn’t rape his captives, etc., etc.

No. The books are historicals, so I follow history. Alexander had a number of romantic Iiaisons, who I discuss HERE.

Expect to see all of them.

The only reason he's not that into Kampaspe is that he's not in love with her, although he's certainly attracted to her, at least in the short-term. Alexander in general doesn't seem to have been too motivated by sex. In all the many criticisms leveled at him, sexual impropriety is NOT among them. Some of that may owe to Plutarch's doing, but I don't think it's just that or there would be contradictory evidence elsewhere. And there's just...not.

In any case, Macedonian kings were expected to marry and produce heirs. Alexander appears to me to have been bisexual, and that's how I'll portray him in the series: he likes men and women both, but he's in love with Hephaistion. Remember that for the Greeks, sexual attraction and love weren't necessarily connected. That makes Alexandros's sexual attractions a little different in the novel.

Had a super-crazy-busy September. Finally getting back to asks....

Patronage & Euergetism in Ancient Greece

Short answer: he absolutely supported the arts, and athletics too. But let’s (briefly) consider the whole tradition, as it has come down to our own world from the Greeks (and Romans), who themselves were just copying royal traditions of the ancient near east.

The word euergetism from the Greek euergeteo (εὐεργετέω), to do good deeds, generally means a gift to the public (art, event, building, park, etc.) from a wealthy individual or family. Both then and now the person’s name might be attached to it: the Pantheon in Rome, although (re-)built by Hadrian, left the name of original temple’s donor right atop the entrance in huge letters: M AGRIPPA L. F. COS TERTIUM FECIT. (Marcus Agrippa, Lucius’s son, made this [temple] when he was third-time consul.) Sometimes a dedication was used to throw shade too. The famous hetaira Phryne supposedly funded (or at least offered to fund) the rebuilding of Thebes’s walls after Alexander sacked the city, but only if they inscribed the new wall: Alexander destroyed these but Phryne of Thespiai, the hetaira, rebuilt them. The scorpion’s sting here requires knowing that Thebes had earlier sacked Thespiai, her hometown, in 371. (ouch)

Patronage is also how artists of all modes worked, from the antiquity till today. Artists who couldn’t scare up a wealthy sponsor either gave up or produced art only at a very slow rate. Today, at least some modern states offer national funding for arts via foundations such as (in the US) The National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). Of course Trump gutted it, which is all too typical of authoritarian governments who want to squash free expression. Yet the notion of “free expression” for artists would have shocked most ancient and medieval artists. Only the best of the best in unique situations could hope for that. Otherwise, you didn’t dare piss off your patron.

So, both patronage and euergetisms were expected of the wealthy in the ancient world: a “social contract,” if you will. Of course, these patrons then got to determine what the artist created—and didn’t create—but the basic idea has rolled right on down to us. Blue bloods “give back,” then get to slap their name on shit. Carnegie Hall, for example. Andrew Carneige, one of the Robber Barons of the mid/late 1800s, was not exactly a good human being, but… art, buildings, even public libraries (2500+ from 1881 on!) … he donated huge amounts. In fact, he actually gave away much of his wealth to the public, famously saying, “The man who dies rich dies disgraced.” Some modern billionaires (such as Warren Buffet, but also MacKenzie Scott) hold that as a moral obligation. In fact, a major complaint about/critique of the modern tech-bro nouveau riche or “Broligarchy” concerns their FAILURE to buy into this traditional social contract. They don’t seem to believe in it, except insofar as it can benefit one of their businesses.

That level of ostentatious and wholly self-absorbed wealth historically tends to be precede (if not always cause) massive social collapses: the Great Kings of the Late Bronze Age, Sargonid Assyrian kings, some Roman emperors, French nobility before the French Revolution, Russian nobility before the Russian Revolution, etc. We could pick apart why that’s the case, but I mostly want to note it here. Btw, this isn’t to excuse the Robber Barons, and the US hit the Great Depression in part due to their antics. Yet throughout history, royalty and nobility more typically engaged in patronage and euergetism—and not just in the ANE and the West.

So, in Alexander’s world, the wealthy were expected to offer patronage to artists, and to invest in public buildings and public entertainments. Even if plays for the public might charge an entrance fee, that covered only a portion of the cost. Patrons covered the rest. Still true today, either with patrons, or via advertisements. The ancient world didn’t have “advertisement” as we understand it. The only advertisement was to get to stick your name on it—and maybe a saucy reason, as we saw with Phryne and the walls of Thebes.

Prior to Alexander III (the Great), we know especially the Macedonian kings Alexandros I, Archelaos, and Philip II all patronized artists and sponsored public festivals, even quite big ones. Philip was thrilled to get to help fund the Delphic (Pythian) Games. Sure, it was hella expensive, but doing so was viewed as a major feather in his cap. And that’s the perk the wealthy get for their euergetism: social credit. The higher the price-tag, the greater the social clout.

Alexander sponsored many artists and athletic contests, as well as contributed to the construction of temples and other public buildings. As he became super rich, he also became quite lavish with that patronage. He wanted to fund a whole temple in Asia Minor but settled for just part of it when the priests there politely warned him to dial it back a notch. Also when he first arrived in Babylon in 331, he funded the repair of the Esagila and Etemenanki—the major Temple of Bel Marduk and its associated ziggurat. That money was reputedly squandered (or so Arrian claims), causing the guilty priests to give "bad omens” to keep Alexander out of the city when he returned in 333. I doubt this was true, as he was just there half a year before, or at least was at Opis right nearby, so I can’t imagine he didn’t ask then about progress on the repairs. But we know he did punish quite a few for similar misuse of funds: he had the man executed who was in charge of the Tomb of Cyrus but allowed it to be plundered.

Obviously, those things weren’t Greek. He wanted to be seen as a proper Asian king, and after he left the Greek colonies on the Asia Minor coast, his patronage and euergetism tended to be local, to wherever that was. He didn’t reserve the bulk of his money for Greece or Greeks. But he did bring several Greek artists to Asia to do this or that for him. In fact, one of the more famous stories about his patronage was giving Kampaspe his mistress (yes, the same as in my novels) to his favorite artist Apelles, when Apelles supposedly fell in love with her while painting her portrait for Alexander. Alexander kept the painting and Apelles kept the woman. Btw, this tale is almost certainly fake and dates to the Roman era, meant to be an example for Roman emperors of proper support for artists; we’re not even sure Kampaspe was a real person! But I fully intend to make hay from it in future novels.😉

Well, Hephaistion is obvious. But my interests as an historian and as a writer are slightly different.

As an historian, I could wish for a more unbiased account of Perdikkas. Of Alexander's age cohort, he had the highest appointments at the youngest age. I suspect it owes to equally high birth. We aren't sure, but his father Orontes was probably the prince/once-king of the canton of Orestis. In the sources, he's poorly treated in part due to bad press from the Successor Wars.

Reputedly, he was arrogant and high-handed, and his own officers (led by Seleukos) killed him in Egypt. But was he that bad, or are these reports part of that bad press (and Seleukos's and Ptolemy's ambitions)? If he were a prince, perhaps his arrogance had cause. Alexander seemed to think he was the most competent of those who remained in Babylon and gave him the ring. Would he still have got it if Krateros hadn't been sent away earlier on his own mission? I suspect not, but we just don't know.

And then there's Krateros, who may also have hailed from Orestis and was probably a cousin of Perdikkas. But, again, we can't be sure. I'd like a better sense of Krateros, as well, to evaluate his place at court. Like Perdikkas, our sources attach a bias to him, but in his case, a positive one. I'm as suspicious of that as I am of the negative one assigned to Perdikkas.

After that, it's largely the women. Olympias, yes. But even more Kleopatra, Thessalonike, and Kynanna. Also Philip's mother Eurydike. I expect THAT woman was someone to be reckoned with. As was Audata, Kynanna's mother. And Hadea, the daughter/granddaughter. Roxana, and Darius's daughters.

Oh, I'd like to know a little more about Parmenion's family--where they came from originally (Pelagonia or not?), and the two younger sons. Philotas sucks up all the air in the room.

Last, I wish we knew more about Darius himself: who he was before being raised to the throne. My friend, Scott Oden, has decided to work on a novel about Darius, which I expect to be spectacular. He has a real talent for detailing the losing side with compassion and insight. If you've not read his novel, Memnon, I recommend it, or Men of Bronze. I think he'll do a great job giving Darius a fair shake.

Now, as an AUTHOR, my interests are similar, but I get to include fictional characters, such as Kampaspe. She may be mentioned in our sources, but was almost certainly a Roman-era invention. Also, you'll get to meet a priest of Ammon who'll travel with Alexander. While also fictional, Alexander must have had such officiants, as he regularly included Ammon in his sacrifices. And, of course, Kleopatra will continue as a voice and window on what's happening in Europe while Alexander is out gallivanting around Asia.

Last, there's a fellow in Athens you'll get to hear more about: Phokion. Plutarch wrote a life of him, in which he's portrayed as the last respectable Athenian general, and was nicknamed "the Good," in antiquity. In the novel, Hephaistion meets him in Athens, when he's there the second time, and he becomes one of (several) people Hephaistion corresponds with, besides Aristotle and Kleopatra.

Thaïs and Hetairai

To explain the exceptions, we need to understand the larger context of ancient Greek prostitution.

Hetairai in particular occupied a “gray” category. They were, and were not, pornoi. Greeks tended to divide women into two main groups, but with an overlapping “neither fish nor fowl” in the middle.

“Citizen women” are the freeborn mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, and nieces of citizen men. “Metic women” are the freeborn mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, and nieces of metics (metoikos), or resident foreigners. The term metic is specifically Athenian, but the category existed in other city-states. There just weren’t many [if any], with the exception of Corinth, another large cosmopolitan polis. (Also some in Asia Minor.) Some city states, such as Sparta, actually outlawed resident foreigners. One could stay only a limited time.

Anyway, these “proper” women got married, produced heirs, etc.

Women outside this category had no (or very limited) rights and protections, and the vast bulk were slaves—whether owned by a family (a house slave or a nurse), owned by the city-state itself (polis slaves), or pornoi (prostitutes) owned by businesses like brothels.

Prostitution was legal in ancient Greece—and taxed. Levels of prostitutes existed, depending on what skills, if any, she possessed. So a flute-player or gymnast was a skilled slave as opposed to a brothel worker—although even brothel workers might be tasked with weaving during the daylight hours.

The more skills (and natural beauty) a porna possessed, the better (and longer) her life was likely to be. But we shouldn’t assume any of it was particularly good.

Now we come to the gray area: the mistress (pallakē) and the hetaira: partially overlapping categories. These categories exist, in part, to avoid the prostitution tax.

A pallakē was a kept woman, or mistress, usually the daughter of a high-born resident foreigner in city-states like Athens with citizenship restrictions. These girls could not legally marry a citizen male to produce heirs, but the citizen man and the girl’s father might have an important business relationship. Marriage was often a political or business tool for upper-class citizens. So this is a marriage-like arrangement. The girl would be provided for by the citizen man, often in a separate residence form his own (where he likely also had a wife). This is almost exclusively an upper-class phenomenon in large poleis like Athens, Corinth, or Miletos. Because she is freeborn (even if not a citizen) she is not a slave, nor is she a prostitute…ergo, there’s no tax. Her house, clothes, and support are considered “gifts,” not “payment.”

The term hetaira means “Companion.” The male form, hetairos, was used in Homer of the elite warriors who accompanied a king, and was still used in Macedonia into the historical period for their aristocrats.

But hetairai were the top category of prostitute, selected for their beauty, intelligence, and education. Unlike many citizen women, they could read and do sums, and kept up with politics, even philosophy. Their job was as escort: sex assumed to be part of it, but not the whole.

Because it took money to train hetairai to become hetairai (education, etc.), many began life as select slaves, not uncommonly purchased by older hetairai who were past their "use-by" date, so to speak. Some of these women adopted them as “daughters,” trained them, then put them to work. It tended to be more small-scale than the (usually male-owned) brothels with dozens of sex workers. And while some situations were no doubt cruel to the younger girls, there’s some evidence that strong bonds were formed between the madam and her girls.

The tricky part here was how these girls were paid, or how their owners were paid. Instead of a literal exchange of cash, their men would buy them things as a gift. So the madam would have olive oil provided, or the rent on the place she lived, or wool, or what-have-you “given” to her, then her clients had use of her girls (or herself). This allowed the madam to skate past that prostitution tax. Yet these women often lived in fear of being taken to court and accused of being prostitutes. The famous court case “Against Naiara” tells us a lot about the social fabrications of these top-level prostitutes. Also in that case (prosecuted by Demosthenes), we have his line that defines how (Athenian) men saw women:

“We have hetairai for pleasure, pallakai to care for our daily body’s needs, and gunaikes (wives) to bear us legitimate children and to be faithful guardians of our households.”

If a hetaira became famous enough, she might earn enough to purchase her freedom or—as in Dancing with the Lion: Rise, with Kampaspē—have one of her clients buy her/buy her free. She then became that man’s pallakē; he doesn’t have to share her with anyone else. In DwtL: Rise, technically, Kampaspē is still Alexandros’s slave (which has legal repercussions), but she is no longer a hetaira. (And—spoiler—she will eventually become a freed woman who takes in her own girls.)

Girls who were given as a pallakē would sometimes have to make the lateral move to hetaira if their sponsor died, or even if he dumped her as she aged. Because a pallakē did not have the legal protections of a wife, she was easier to discard. (Although some form of contract was likely made between her father and her sponsor to protect her.) But if her sponsor died, she isn't a widow and can't remarry, like a “proper” wife might. She could be transferred to another man, or she might become a hetaira, especially if she had the needed skills. This appears to be what happened to Aspasia. (See Madeleine Henry’s brilliant A Prisoner of History.) These girls may never have been slaves at all, then.

Kampaspe!

Easy answer there. Kampaspe will continue to be a main secondary character through the story going forward, and will join Hephaistion’s household, even run it. She becomes like a sister to him.

As I’ve noted, aside from the historical events, I have a pretty good idea of several sub-plots (not historical) that fold into major historical events. There are also some important secondary characters you’ve not met yet, include a Nok priest of Ammon, the brother of Darius, and Hephaistion’s cat. (ha)

After Kampaspe, Kleopatra is a favorite. I know, she’s related to Alexander, but she’ll continue to have an important role going forward. I tell Beth (Carney) she needs to write a novel about Olympias. I’ve tried not to vilify her, but personally, I find her less interesting than Alexander’s sisters. So Kynanne, Thessalonike, and especially Kleopatra will remain in play, even if at a distance. Because they’re not “on site” however, they won’t have the same impact as Kampaspe.

When writing a novel about a prince and eventual world conqueror, the modern author must wrestle with how to depict those in society upon whose backs such privilege was built.

Enter Kampaspē, Alexandros’s mistress in Rise.

Although an hetaira (the highest class of prostitute in ancient Greece), she’s still a slave. Not only her well-being, but her very LIFE, depends on the good will of her owner. Alexandros is not a cruel master and expresses genuine fondness for her, even initially offering to buy her free, but that doesn’t change the uncertainty of her status. Writing scenes from her point-of-view allows me to show her reality. Ancient Greece got some things right: the invention of critical reasoning, the birth of democracy, and the, at least partial, acceptance of same-sex relationships. But it got a lot of things wrong. Misogyny was rampant and slavery assumed. As an author, I can’t ignore that.

Ancient slavery differed from American colonial in several important ways, not least that skin color had nothing to do with it. Greeks routinely owned other Greeks from different city-states, although as time progressed, a larger and larger number of slaves in Greece were non-Greeks taken in war. Families of moderate means usually owned 1-3 slaves, but even the largest factory operations owned slaves only in the hundreds, not thousands. Most of Greece was not a slave-society, unlike later Rome or the American South. A “slave society” is one whose economy depends on slave labor and would collapse without it. In ancient Greece, such a definition fit only Sparta’s helot system with state slavery, although by the Hellenistic Age, the economic importance of slavery had risen considerably, and by the late Roman Republic into the Imperial era, it ballooned into true “slave state” dimensions.

But even if Greece wasn’t a “slave society,” we can’t let that blind us to the horrors of a slave’s life. They were described as “living tools” and “two-legged livestock.” THINGS, objects, not people. Beatings were common disciplinary measures, and for a slave’s testimony to count in court, interrogation had to be conducted under torture. In artwork, they're routinely shown as "smaller" than their owners, almost like children.

Nobody much questioned this. It was just the “way of the world”—deeply embedded and taken for granted.

In fact, by the Imperial era, wealthy slaves might own slaves To modern minds shaped by Colonial slavery, that seems to be a very strange concept (both wealthy slaves and slaves owning slaves). Ancient Greece had no abolitionist movement, and philosophy mostly ignored it as a subject of moral discourse. While emancipation was possible in ancient Greece, it was uncommon. When it came, it was typically in old age, in thanks for a lifetime of service, and/or in a master’s will.

In fact, the modern notion of scientific racism owes to Aristotle (Aristoteles), Alexandros’s own teacher, who, building on the medical Hippocratic corpus, articulated the basics: some people are born inferior as a result of climate, ethnicity, or some innate flaw. “For that some should rule and others be ruled is a thing not only necessary, but expedient; from the hour of their birth, some are marked out for subjection, others for rule...” (Aristotle, Politics).

So Aristotle (and others) thought people—especially non-Greeks—wound up slaves by “physis”: nature. But the more common, and older, notion was that slaves became slaves by bad luck.

Again, the bulk of slaves became so as prisoners of war: why such categories as “skilled slaves” existed. If, at the end of battle, one had rounded up a goldsmith, teacher, blacksmith, or physician among the enemy captives, one didn’t toss them into the fields or mines to do hard labor. They continued to ply their trade, but gave the bulk of their earnings to their new master. One form of “investment” in ancient Greece, in fact, involved purchasing such skilled slaves. They were costly, but their owner could count on a good return on the investment across years, which is why skilled slaves found it difficult to earn freedom. They were their owner’s “Golden Goose.”

Hetairai, such as Kampaspē, were a form of “skilled slave.” These “companions” (what hetaira means, literally) were trained to read, write, recite poetry, play music, keep up with politics, all in addition to any bedroom skills. In Kampaspē’s case, she was trained from a young age, and if she wasn’t an actual prisoner of war, she was sold into slavery as a result of political rivalry.

Her story is a tragedy. All too often in novels about ancient Greece, famous hetairai (such as Thaïs or Phryne) are portrayed as mistresses of their own destinies, choosing the rich men with whom they wish to cavort. The few historical mentions of Kampaspe paint her similarly, as from a prominent family in Larissa—a point I kept, if with a twist. Yet that popular notion is mostly a male fantasy, and such freedoms came only after establishing themselves. The bulk of hetairai, even at this high level, began as slaves, sometimes of older hetairai who acted as madams. As they aged, hetairai might save enough to buy freedom, but their choices after were restricted.

Kampaspē is my answer to the romantization of Greek hetairai in fiction. When Alexander is suddenly unable to protect her (for reasons I can’t reveal without a spoiler), what recourse does Kampaspē have? She must seek a new master/mistress/patron. She ends up okay, but the life of even a skilled slave is lived on the side of a volcano.

There’s no way around the ugly of Greek slavery. Kampaspē is there to remind readers of it, even if she doesn’t suffer as badly as many did. Because it doesn’t matter how well she’s treated. She’s still a slave. And slavery is never justifiable.

So today, TWO of the three blogs are responses from Tumblr anonymous questions.

Blog #1 at Book Reviews and More by Kathy, is “Kampaspē, Slavery, and the Uglier Side of Ancient Greece.” As some of you have already now discovered, Alexander’s first named mistress*, from Thessaly, makes her appearance in Rise, and becomes the second female POV character. No, don’t worry, this isn’t a “love triangle,” not in any usual sense anyway. Kampaspe and Hephaistion actually wind up friends, and she’ll continue as a major secondary character as the series progresses, eventually becoming chief of Hephaistion’s household. No, not as his mistress, but how she moves from Alexandros’s train to Hephaistion’s is not something I can reveal without a LOT of spoilers. The issue of slavery will remain an important subplot.

Blog #2, at Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, answers this question:

“I know you've said you'd like to continue Alexander and Hephaistion's story beyond 'Rise', so can I ask how you see their relationship changing over the years as Alexander becomes 'the Great'?”

Blog #3, at My Book Nook, answers this question:

“So you emphasize Amyntor is ‘ugly’ in the first Dancing with the Lion novel, and sort of imply Hephaistion might not be his real son. Is there a reason for that? IS Hephaistion his son?”

(*Regarding Kampase’s historicity, she may be a Roman fiction, but I found her story very interesting, and so I’ve made her an important character. The blog entry explains a bit of why.)