History has a funny habit of preferring the sensational explanation over the simple one. Ancient writers loved poisonings, secret plots, and masterminds lurking behind every event. It makes for a better story, but the mundane explanation is usually the more likely one.
Take Olympias. Later sources repeatedly cast her as a scheming poisoner, blamed for Arridaeus’s condition and even hinted at behind Philip’s assassination. That narrative fits a very familiar ancient stereotype about politically powerful women. It also conveniently turns complicated court politics into a villain story. But once you strip away the drama, the simpler explanations often make far more sense: illness, personal grievance, factional tension, or rumor hardening into “fact” over time.
You can also see how messy things become when historians remove or sideline people because they’re narratively inconvenient. The Pixodarus affair is a good example. If Arridaeus is stripped of identity, Alexander’s reaction suddenly reads like reckless ambition. Put him back into the situation Philip had created, though, and the episode looks very different: a vulnerable prince being used as a diplomatic pawn and a furious Alexander trying to stop it.
Ancient historians weren’t neutral observers. They were storytellers working with rumor, propaganda, and their own cultural assumptions. When the sources give us the most dramatic explanation possible, it’s often worth pausing and asking whether the simpler one might actually be closer to the truth.
