Child of a Dream

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

*

  Philip reached the palace the following day, late in the afternoon. Eumenes used the excuse of some documents to be signed to make sure he was there to meet him.

  ‘May I ask you about the outcome of your mission, Sire?’ he asked as he was passing the sheets to him one by one.

  Philip lifted his head and turned towards him. ‘I’d bet ten silver talents against a pile of dogshit that you know already.’

  ‘Me, Sire? Oh, no, I’m not as clever as all that. No, these are delicate matters, there’s nothing to joke about here.’

  Philip stretched out his left hand for another document and pressed the seal onto it.

  ‘Wreathed is the bull. All is done. Ready is the one who will smite him.’

  ‘Was that the response, Sire? But that’s extraordinary, it’s magnificent! Just now when you’re planning to move into Asia! The new emperor of the Persians has just been crowned and what is the symbol of Persepolis, the capital? The bull, the winged bull. There is no doubt, he’s the bull. So his end is nigh because the one who will smite it, the one who will sacrifice the bull, is ready. And you are the one who will smite it. The oracle has seen your imminent victory over the Persian empire.

  ‘In fact, Sire, shall I tell you what I think? It’s too good to be true. I’m afraid the priests, tricksters as they are, must have concocted a tailor-made reply for you. But it is still a good omen, don’t you think?’

  ‘They didn’t concoct anything. I arrived there suddenly, I took a ministrant of the cult by the collar, I made him open the adyton and I saw the Pythia, out of her mind, her eyes white, her mouth foaming as she inhaled the vapours from the chasma.’

  Eumenes nodded repeatedly. ‘Certainly . . . a lightning manoeuvre, worthy of your own self. Anyway, better still if the reply was a genuine one.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Alexander will arrive in a couple of days’ time.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Will you go to meet him at the old border?’

  ‘No. I will wait for him here.’

  ‘May I go with Callisthenes?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Perhaps I could also take Philotas with a dozen guardsmen. Just a small escort of honour . . .’

  Philip agreed.

  ‘Good, Sire. Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be off,’ said Eumenes as he gathered his documents and started to leave.

  ‘Do you know what my soldiers used to call me when I was young, when I used to go through two women in one night?’

  Eumenes turned to look at the King’s wounded gaze.

  ‘They used to call me “the Bull”.’

  Eumenes was lost for words. He reached the door and went out, bowing hurriedly.

  *

  The small welcoming party reached the Beroea road where they crossed the old frontier of the realm of Amyntas I. Near the Haliakmon ford Eumenes signalled to the others to stop because Alexander and his troop had no choice but to cross the river there.

  They all dismounted and left their horses free to graze on the grass. Some members of the escort pulled out their water flasks to quench their thirst, others, given the time of day, took bread, cheese, olives and dried figs from their satchels and sat on the ground to eat. One of the men was sent up a nearby hill to look out for Alexander.

  They spent several hours there and the sun began to descend towards the horizon, over towards the Pindus mountains, and still there was no sign of anything happening.

  ‘It’s a terrible road, believe me,’ Callisthenes was saying. ‘It’s teeming with brigands. I wouldn’t be surprised if . . .’

  ‘Oh, the brigands!’ exclaimed Philotas. ‘But that lot eat brigands for breakfast. They’ve survived a winter up in the mountains of Illyria, do you know what that means?’

  But Eumenes was looking up at the hill and at the lookout who had started waving a red cloth.

  ‘They’re on their way,’ he announced, almost in a whisper.

  Shortly after, the lookout fired an arrow that landed in the ground not far from them.

  ‘That means they’re all present,’ said the secretary. ‘Not one of them is missing.’ And he said this as though he didn’t really believe what he was saying. The lookout in the meantime had come back down.

  ‘Men! On your mounts!’ Philotas ordered, and all twelve of the horsemen leaped onto their chargers and arranged themselves along the road, spears in hand.

  Eumenes and Callisthenes, without their horses, set off walking along the road just as Alexander and his troop appeared from a declivity of the hill.

  All eight advanced side by side and the rays of the sun as it set behind them wrapped them in a halo of purple light, a gilded cloud. The distance and the drumming of their gallop in the light-filled dust created a strange optical effect, as though they were riding suspended in the air, as if they came from another time, from a magic, far-off place, from the ends of the earth.

  They reached the riverbank at full tilt and threw themselves at top speed into the ford, as though unable to bear being separated from their homeland for one instant more. The horses’ hooves, in the wild churning of the water, lifted up an iridescent spray coloured by the dying rays of the great setting globe.

  Eumenes wiped the arm of his tunic across his eyes and blew his nose noisily. His voice trembled. ‘Oh gods above . . . it is them . . . it is them.’

  Then a figure with long golden hair, shining in its glowing copper armour, leaped from the water in a boiling of spray and spume, leaving the group behind and plunging into a breakneck gallop astride a stallion whose hooves made the earth tremble.

  Philotas shouted, ‘Guard . . . attention!’ And the twelve warriors lined up one next to the other, their heads held high, their backs straight, the points of their spears directed skyward.

  Eumenes could not contain his emotion.

  ‘Alexander . . .’ he stammered through his tears. ‘Alexander is back.’

  36

  EUMENES AND CALLISTHENES accompanied Alexander all the way to the threshold of the King’s study. Eumenes knocked, and when he heard Philip’s voice inviting his son to enter, he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, somewhat embarrassedly, ‘If your father should make mention of the letter you wrote to me, don’t show any surprise. I took the liberty of making the first move in your name, otherwise you would still be up a mountain in a snowdrift.’

  Alexander looked at him in amazement, finally realizing what had happened, but at that point all he could do was enter Philip’s study and enter he did.

  He found his father there before him and he saw that he had aged a great deal. Although his exile had lasted a little less than a year, it seemed to him that the furrows across Philip’s forehead were deeper and his hair was turning white prematurely.

  He spoke first: ‘I am glad to find you in good health, Father.’

  ‘And you,’ replied Philip. ‘You look more substantial and I am happy you have returned. Are your friends well?’

  ‘Yes, they are all well.’

  ‘Sit down.’

  Alexander obeyed. The King picked up a jug and two cups: ‘Some wine?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Philip moved nearer and Alexander found himself face to face with his father; now he saw his dead eye and now there was no doubt about the fatigue sculpted over his forehead.

  ‘To your health, Father, and to the enterprise you are embarking on in Asia. I have heard about the great prophecy of the god at Delphi.’

  Philip nodded and took some wine.

  ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘She was well, last time I saw her.’

  ‘Will she come to Cleopatra’s wedding?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They stood in silence staring at one another and both of them felt a strong desire to abandon themselves to their feelings, but they were also two men hardened by much pain and resentment, by a moment of rage that had passed now but which was still te
rribly alive. Father and son were aware that at that precise moment they could easily have fallen to blows to the point of spilling each other’s blood.

  ‘Go and say hello to Cleopatra,’ Philip said suddenly, breaking the silence. ‘She has missed you very much.’

  Alexander nodded and left the room.

  Eumenes and Callisthenes were positioned at the end of the corridor, waiting for an explosion of either violence or joy: the unreal silence left them puzzled.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Callisthenes.

  ‘The King said to me, “No feasts, no banquets. There is nothing to celebrate. We are both crippled by grief.” That’s what he said to me.’

  Alexander walked through the palace as though he were in a dream. As he went by everybody smiled and nodded, but no one dared approach him or speak to him.

  Suddenly a loud barking came from the great courtyard and Peritas came rushing into the internal portico like a fury unleashed. He leaped up on Alexander, almost dashing him to the ground, and continued barking and making a general fuss.

  The young Prince was moved by the animal’s demonstration of its affection for him – so open and enthusiastic – in front of everyone. He petted him for a long time, scratching his ears and trying to calm him. Argus, Ulysses’ dog, came to mind, the only one who recognized the hero on his return after many years away, and Alexander felt his eyes moisten.

  His sister threw her arms around him crying in full flood as soon as she saw him in the doorway of her room.

  ‘My child . . .’ Alexander murmured as he held her to him.

  ‘I’ve cried so much . . . I’ve cried so much . . .’ the girl sobbed.

  ‘That’s enough. I’m back now and I’m even hungry. I was rather hoping you might invite me to stay for supper.’

  ‘Of course!’ exclaimed Cleopatra, drying her tears and sniffing. ‘Come in.’

  She had him sit down and gave orders for the tables to be laid immediately and for a basin to be brought so that her brother might wash his hands, his arms and his feet.

  ‘Will Mother come to my wedding?’ she asked when they were reclining to eat.

  ‘I hope so. Her daughter and her brother are getting married to each other – she should be there. And then perhaps Father would be pleased if she came.’

  Cleopatra seemed encouraged by this and they talked about all they had been through in the year during which they had been separated from each other. The Princess shivered every time her brother told her about a particularly exciting adventure or about dangerous chases through the rocky gorges of the Illyrian mountains.

  Now and then Alexander would interrupt his stories to ask her about herself and how she was planning to dress for the wedding and what her life would be like in the palace at Buthrotum. Or he would sit quietly and look at her, with his light smile and that curious way he had of leaning his head towards his right shoulder.

  ‘Poor Perdiccas,’ he said at a certain point, as though suddenly plunged into serious thought. ‘He’s hopelessly in love with you and when he heard about your wedding he fell into despair.’

  ‘I am sorry. He’s a fine young man.’

  ‘More than fine. One day he will be one of the best Macedonian generals, if I know anything about my men. But there’s nothing to be done about it all – everyone has his or her own destiny written.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Cleopatra as she nodded.

  A sudden silence came over the two young people who had been laughing together after their long separation. Each one sat listening to the voice of his or her own feelings.

  ‘I am sure you will be happy with your husband,’ Alexander began again. ‘He’s intelligent and young and brave and can dream. For him you will be like a dew-kissed flower, like the smile of spring, like a pearl mounted in gold.’

  Cleopatra looked at him, her eyes moist with tears. ‘Is that how you see me, brother of mine?’

  ‘That’s it. And I’m sure that’s how he must see you too, I’m certain.’ He brushed her cheek with a kiss and left.

  It was late now as he returned to his room for the first time in a year: he smelled the fragrance of the flowers that adorned it and the perfume of his bath.

  The lamps spread a warm, collected light. His strigil, his comb and his razor were all lined up in order alongside the bathtub and Leptine was sitting on a stool dressed only in a short chiton.

  She ran to him as soon as he entered and threw herself at his feet, hugging his knees, covering them with kisses and tears.

  ‘Don’t you want to help me have my bath?’ Alexander asked her.

  ‘Yes . . . yes of course, Sire. Straight away.’

  She undressed him and waited while he got into the big tub, then she began rubbing him gently with the sponge. She washed his straight, soft hair, dried it and over his head poured a precious oil that had been brought all the way from distant Arabia.

  When he came out of the water she covered him with a towel and had him lie down on his bed. Then she too undressed and massaged him for a long time to loosen his limbs, but she didn’t use perfume because there was nothing more beautiful and pleasant than the natural scent of his skin. When she saw that he had let himself go and his eyes were beginning to close, she lay down alongside him, naked and warm, and began kissing him all over.

  37

  EURYDICE GAVE BIRTH to a boy towards the end of spring, not long before the date fixed for the wedding of Cleopatra and Alexander of Epirus. The new arrival made the already difficult relations between the Prince and his father even more strained.

  The misunderstandings and the disagreements increased, aggravated by Philip’s decision to keep his son’s closest friends at a safe distance from the court, in particular Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Ptolemy and Seleucus.

  Philotas, who at that moment was in Asia, had been rather cold with Alexander following his return. He even started spending time with his cousin Amyntas, who had been heir to the throne before Alexander’s birth.

  All of these facts, together with his lost sense of familiarity with court life and an acute feeling of isolation, created in Alexander a dangerous sense of insecurity which in its turn pushed him towards clumsy initiatives and unjustifiable behaviour.

  When he learned that Philip had put forward his mentally deficient half-brother Arrhidaeaus as husband of the daughter of the Satrap of Caria, he simply didn’t know what to think. In the end, after much thought and having decided that the King’s manoeuvre was in some way linked to the expedition to Asia, he sent a messenger to Pixodarus offering to marry the girl himself. The King heard of Alexander’s initiative from his informers, however, and flew into a tremendous rage. The proposed matrimonial alliance – a project which was already tottering – had to be abandoned.

  Eumenes gave Alexander the bad news.

  ‘But why on earth did you do such a thing?’ he asked him. ‘Why didn’t you speak to me . . . why didn’t you tell me about your ideas? I would have told you that . . .’

  ‘What, exactly, would you have told me?’ Alexander snapped, worried and resentful. ‘All you ever do is follow my father’s orders! You never speak to me, you keep me in the dark about everything!’

  ‘You’re out of your mind,’ Eumenes replied. ‘But how can you ever imagine that Philip would waste his heir to the throne by marrying him off to the daughter of a servant of his sworn enemy, the King of the Persians?’

  ‘I no longer know if I am Philip’s heir. He has never told me, he tells me nothing. All his time is taken up with his new wife and his newborn son. And you . . . you have all abandoned me too. You’re all afraid of spending time with me because you think that when it comes to it I will no longer be the King’s heir! Look around you: how many children does my father have? Someone might decide to support Amyntas – after all, he was heir before my birth, and recently Philotas has been spending much more time with him than with me. And didn’t Attalus suggest that his daughter would give birth to the legitimate heir to the throne? Well,
now they have a boy.’

  Eumenes said nothing. He watched Alexander pacing the room with his long strides, and waited for him to calm down. When he saw the Prince stop in front of the window and stand there looking out, he spoke: ‘You have to face your father, even if he would like to strangle you right now.’

  ‘Don’t you see? You’re on his side!’

  ‘Stop it! Stop treating me like this! I have always been loyal to your family. I have always sought to keep the peace among you because I believe your father is a great man, the greatest Europe has known in the last hundred years, and also because I love you, you stubborn specimen! Come on then, tell me just one thing I’ve ever done to harm you, just one letdown I have inflicted upon you in all the years we have known each other! Speak now . . . come on, I’m waiting.’

  Alexander could not reply. He wrung his hands and did not turn to face Eumenes so as not to show the tears welling up in his eyes. And with the tears he felt the anger rising, and he was aware that his father’s anger still frightened him, just as it had done when he was a boy.

  ‘You must face him. Now. Now that he is furious for this thing you have done. Show him that you are not afraid, that you are a man, that you are worthy of sitting on his throne one day. Admit to your error and apologize. This is what true courage is.’

  ‘All right,’ Alexander accepted. ‘But remember that Philip has already tried to attack me with his sword drawn once before.’

  ‘He was drunk.’

  ‘And what sort of state is he in now?’

  ‘You are unfair. He has achieved the impossible for you. Do you have any idea how much he has invested in you? Do you know? I know because I keep the books and I look after his archives.’

  ‘I don’t want to know.’

  ‘At least a hundred talents, an incredible sum: one quarter of the treasure of the city of Athens when it was at the height of its splendour.’

  ‘I don’t want to know!’

  ‘He lost an eye in battle and will limp for the rest of his days. He has built the greatest empire the world has ever seen west of the Straits – he did that for you and now he’s offering you Asia. But you have chosen to obstruct his plans, you resent the few pleasures that a man of his age can still hope to enjoy in life. Go to him, Alexander, and speak to him, before he comes to you.’