Seven Deathly Sin: Wrath Second Edition

To recap:

Wrath (Latin, ira), also known as "rage", may be described as excessive and uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger. Wrath, in its purest form, presents with self-destructiveness, violence, and hate that may provoke feuds that can go on for centuries. Wrath may persist long after the person who did another a grievous wrong is dead. Feelings of anger can manifest in different ways, including impatience, vigilantism, and revenge.

Accounts of the murder often speculate on the possible complicity of Philip of Macedon's wife, the fierce Olympias, and his half-estranged son, Alexander. The full story is less well known, but it is given in circumstantial detail by Diodorus Siculus and confirmed by Aristotle. The polygamous Philip, who 'waged war by marrying’, had several wives and numerous mistresses, but he also had male favorites. One of these, Pausanias ('beloved by him for his beauty') though the relationship is often stormy.
Though Philip was often a rough and brutal man, one is nevertheless struck by the fact that he could have won such devotion. Drunken shouts and raucous laughter come from the king's latest wedding feast, obviously not the first because Philip has married many times before. mostly for diplomatic reasons, to strengthen strategic alliances with neighboring countries.
This latest wife, Cleopatra, is of course not at the feast (male only). The king has invited Macedonian nobles, some of his own lovers, including Pausanius, even Alexander, his son from the now ex-queen, Olympias. Alexander is now a young man, proud and very ambitious.

The host and his guests recline on couches arranged around the andiron. In fact there are so many guests that many couches are shared, their proximity leading to horseplay and more laughter. Food has been eaten. roast goat, eaten with the fingers which were afterwards wiped on bread. Attractive young boys have brought in the wine and poured it into cups. A young girl plays on the flute and another on the lyre. Philip pours a libation to Dionysus onto the black and white mosaic floor. Whether this reminds him of his previous wife, Olympias, the temple prostitute from that same god's temple, he gives no sign. Alexander, who is on the couch on his own to the left of Philip looks solemn and his lips move, whether in a prayer or a curse isn't clear.
Philip graciously proclaims Pausanius, sharing his couch, the lord of the feast whose job it is to decide on the ratio of wine to water in the drink. He holds up his hand, thumb and forefinger touching. indicating that the wine should be undiluted. The guests shout their approval and Philip grins wolfishly, showing his teeth, the lid of his lost right eye flickering over the cavity.

They drink to the health of the king, scattering the deposit to the god. One noble drinks to the fecundity of the new wife. The guests cheer and suggestions are offered as to how Philip will take her, if he hasn't already, how tight her virginity will make her and how Philip's great member will stretch her to an enormous extent. Pausanius, who knows more about the size of the king's member, than the majority of the nobles around him, stays silent.
A young boy acrobat comes in and does things with his body that make them all applaud. There are suggestions as to what the slaves could do together. More drinking, the cups filled and emptied at speed. The girl on the lyre sings a lascivious song.
Pausanius, face flushed, curls awry drinks to a new heir. "At least," he says, "it will be a legitimate one." He glances at Alexander, wondering if he has gone too far but is reassured by the sound of Philip's laugh from beside him. The king's hand fumbles at Pausanius' tunic, finds his manhood and squeezes it. Alexander though, is understandably not amused. Seeing the way the wind is blowing another noble, Attalus, uncle of the bride, shouts aloud, "Now legitimate sons, not bastards will be born to kings."

Months later; Attalus, who was one of Philip's chief generals, invited Pausanius to a feast, made him drunk with wine, and had him raped by his guests. Pausanius demanded vengeance from Philip. The king was sympathetic but since Attalus was one of his most valued commanders and the uncle of Philip's newest wife, he did not punish him. Pausanius bided his time.
Philip of Macedon stands in the amphitheatre at Pella, the seats around three sides full, tier piling on tier with the top forming a horizon of its own, the stone mellow in the sunlight. The King, centre stage, is dressed in a snow-white cloak which billows around him in the breeze. He stands alone, his bodyguard by his express orders held away from him. They follow only at a distance, since he wants to show publicly that he is protected by the goodwill of all the Greeks, and has no need of a guard or spearmen. While the guards keep their distance on one side, Pausanius sees from the other that the king is left alone. He rushes towards him, slightly from behind and for a moment the king does not notice him. When he does, Philip turns, an angry frown on his face. He assumes that Pausanius has come to honor him in person. "Now is not the time," he says.

But Pausanius is not diverted. He clutches the king. From the audience, it looks like an embrace but in Pausanius' left hand is a knife. It pierces the king's ribs and into his heart and the king falls. The bodyguard rush on stage, three towards the king, the rest after the assassin. Pausanius turns and makes for the side where he has left horses prepared for flight. He is nearly there when he trips on a vine growing through a crack in the stonework. He falls. Instantly the bodyguard are on him. They stab him again and again with their swords.