kaos

Around this time, by now in his early 20s, Alexander fell in with a reputedly
abominable Byzantine choral lyricist named Cocconas, which means “nut”. Like a late
Roman Hope and Crosby in The Road to Ephesus, this pair travelled the region for a
considerable period purveying quackery and sorcery and, as Lucian remarks, “trimming
the fatheads”. (“Trim the fatheads” has, of course, become one of the principal
commandments and guiding aphorisms of the present-day Moon & Serpent movement.
As a result of following this simple and lucid instruction, we’re raking it in. You can’t
say that about The Book of the Law.) After a couple of decades of such activities, the duo
washed up in the province of Bithynia where they were taken under the wing, if not the
duvet, of “a rich Macedonian woman, past her prime but still eager to be charming”. It
may be that she was herself charmed by the charismatic Alexander, who at this point
seemingly possessed an almost Rasputin-like sexual gravitas and allure. Tall, fair-skinned
and godlike, he had glowing eyes and what sound very much like hair-extensions; a
crusty from The Village of the Damned.
Lining their pockets at the woman’s expense, Alexander and Cocconas accompanied
their patroness upon her return trip home to Pella, ancient capital of Macedonia. Perhaps
she’d tired of them, or perhaps, having maxed out her credit-cards, they’d tired of her.
Whatever the event, a new scam was required.
As it happened, Pella, in this period, was pretty much Snake City. Around 500 years
before, our Alexander’s psychopathic and more-famous namesake had been born there,
reputedly the offspring of his mom, Olympias, and either Zeus in the form of a snake,
or a snake with a smooth line in date-rape patter. Subsequently, these ophidians became
the pet of choice in Pella. Tame and sweet, they played with children, slept with women
and, allegedly, “took milk from the breast just like babies”. No pap without a python, no
boob without a boa. Inspired by the compliance and manageability of these impressive
reptiles, Alexander and Cocconas purchased an unusually striking specimen for a few
coppers (probably not their own) and took it on with them to Chalcedon.
In Chalcedon they forged bronze tablets which proclaimed that soon Asclepius,
snake-friendly god of healing, would take up his residence in Abonoteichus. Furtively
buried then miraculously discovered in the temple of Apollo, this early, innovative adcampaign
worked well enough to prompt the founding of a temple in Abonoteichus
ready for the god’s arrival and laid the groundwork for the serpent-sting to follow.
Leaving Cocconas in Chalcedon to work his jingle-writer’s magic on some hot new
oracles, our hero-turned-snake-smuggler took off for Abonoteichus, his squirming cargo
covertly in tow. Cocconas, sadly (or conveniently), did not survive to reap the benefits
of his and Alexander’s scheme, expiring not long after from a viper bite. Or something.
Snappily-dressed in white and purple tunic with a white cloak at the shoulder, hair
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