by Mary Renault
I came up with lowered gaze, and made the prostration. He said in Persian, “You may rise.” At this time he scarcely knew any of our language, but had learned this off along with the words of greeting. He was unused to being bowed to down to the ground; you could tell it made him uneasy. One gets up in any case, without command; but no one had liked to tell him so.
I stood before him, my eyes cast down as is proper before a king. He said suddenly, “Bagoas!” and I was startled into looking up, as he had intended.
As one might smile at the child of a stranger seeing it scared, so he did at me, and said to the interpreter, “Ask the boy if he is here of his own free will.”
I said, “My lord, I speak Greek a little.”
“You speak it quite well.” He looked surprised. “Did Darius speak it, then?”
“Yes, my lord King.”
“Then you know what I just asked.”
I replied that I had come freely, hoping for the honor of serving him.
“But you come with the man who killed your master. How is this?” His eyes had changed. He was not trying to frighten me; but they had grown cold, and that was enough.
Nabarzanes had withdrawn to a decent distance. Alexander just glanced towards him. I felt myself being reminded that he knew no Greek.
“Lord King,” I said, “Darius loaded me with kindness. I shall always grieve for him. But Lord Nabarzanes is a soldier. He thought that it was necessary.” I saw his eyes change as if at something he understood. I said, “He repents it truly; that I know.”
He paused; then said abruptly, “Has he been your lover?”
“No, my lord. Only my host.”
“Then that is not why you plead for him?”
“No, my lord.” I think it was his eyes, rather than Nabarzanes’ counsel, which told me not to cheapen myself. I said, “If he were my lover, I would not leave him.”
He raised his brows; then he turned with a smile to the young man behind him. “You hear that, Hephaistion? An advocate worth having.”
The young man, without as much as a bow or a My Lord, said, “All the same, they might at least have finished him off.”
To my surprise, Alexander did not notice the disrespect. “We were treading on their tails,” he said. “They were in a hurry. I’d no notion he spoke Greek. If only I’d been in time!”
He had a look at the horses, commended them through the interpreter, and invited Nabarzanes inside his tent.
I waited by the fidgeting horses, while the Macedonians looked at me. Among Persians, the eunuch knows himself marked out at sight by his lack of beard; it was most strange to be in a crowd where no young man had one. Alexander had shaved from his youth, and liked his fashion followed. Persian soldiers would have had any man’s blood, who told them to make themselves like eunuchs; but I don’t think this had even occurred to the Macedonians. They had no eunuchs. I was the only one.
No one molested me. There was discipline, but not the reverence one expects to surround a king. They stood about and stared, and discussed my looks as if I had been a horse, not knowing I could understand them. The lower ranks I could not; but though they spoke Macedonian, which is barely Greek, I knew what they meant. I fought back the tears of wretchedness. What would become of me, among such people?
The tent-flaps opened. Alexander came out, with the interpreter and Nabarzanes. The King said something, and offered his right hand. I saw from Nabarzanes’ face it was the sign of pardon.
He made a graceful speech of loyalty, and was given leave to depart. Turning to me, he said very solemnly (the interpreter was in hearing), “Bagoas, serve your new master as well as you did your former one.” As he turned towards his horse, he winked at me.
He returned to his ancestral lands and his harem, and must have lived there, as he had said, in quiet. I never saw him again.
Alexander ordered the horses led away, then turned to me, as if he had only just remembered me. I have seen it better done. For an instant, I could have sworn I saw a look that one can’t mistake. When it is hard and smug it is a bad lookout; but sometimes it is a softening. It vanished utterly, before I could be sure of it; there was only a soldier’s briskness.
“Well, Bagoas, you are welcome to my service. See Chares, my chief steward, and he will find you quarters. I will see you again later.”
Well, I thought, that is plain enough.
The sun was sinking; my spirits also. I wondered what time he went to bed.
I ate with the clerks who kept his records. They looked surprised. There was no other place for people like me, except with soldiers or servants. The food was coarse and rough, but they seemed used to nothing better. After a while, one of them asked me how the archives were kept at Susa; as I knew this, they became more friendly; but they offered me no advice about my duties. I did not like to ask what sign the King gave, for one to stay when the rest retired. Eunuchs anywhere would have been more helpful.
The King was already at dinner with his chief officers. I returned to Chares, the chamberlain, a Macedonian of good rank. I did not think much of his service; even for a camp it was rough-and-ready to a Persian eye. When I appeared, he seemed not to know where to put me; but looking at my good clothes (I was deep in my host’s debt, there) he gave me a damp towel and a dry, for the King to wipe his hands on. I stood by his chair, and he used the towels; yet I felt even he had not expected me.
I had heard already of their barbarous way with wine, bringing it in with the meat. But nobody had prepared me for the freedom of speech the King permitted. They called him Alexander, without title, like one of themselves; they laughed aloud in his presence, and far from rebuking them he joined in. The best you could say was that when he spoke, nobody interrupted him. They fought over their campaign like soldiers with their officer; once, one said, “No, Alexander, that was the day before,” and even for this received no punishment, they just argued it out. However, I thought, does he get them to obey in battle?
When they had eaten (food like a peasants’ feast-day, with no sweets at all) the servers left, but for the wine-pourers. So I went into the King’s sleeping-place, to prepare his bed. It amazed me to find it not much better than a common captain’s, with scarcely room for two. There were a few fine gold vessels, I daresay from Persepolis; but the furniture was just the bed and clothes-stool, the washstand, a writing-table and chair, a rack of scrolls, and a fine bath of inlaid silver, which must have been Darius’s, taken with the tent.
I looked about for the perfume-sprinkler, but could not find it. Just then a Macedonian boy of about my age came in and said, “What are you doing here?”
One would have supposed he had surprised a thief. I did not return his rudeness, but said I had been taken into service that day. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he said. “Who are you, to sneak in here without leave? I’m on guard here. For all I know, you’ve come to poison him.”
He bawled out to another youth, who came in from outside, and they were about to lay hands on me, when a young man entered. The boys looked crestfallen before he had even spoken. “In the name of Zeus!” he said. “Can’t you take guard, Antikles, without shouting and brawling like a market porter? I could hear you outside; you’ll be lucky if the King didn’t. What’s this about?”
The youth jerked his thumb at me. “I found him in here, handling the King’s things.”
The young man lifted his brows. “You could have asked one of us, before you made this uproar. We’re all sick of dry-nursing you. How the King manages with such raw oafs about him, I can’t think.”
The boy, suddenly very angry, said, “And how much longer did you want to do squire service, that you can’t let go of it? I’m on duty. Am I meant to let in any spayed catamite some barbarian leaves behind?”
The young man stared at him till he flushed. “For a start, don’t be foul-mouthed, Alexander doesn’t like it. For the rest, just take my word that the boy has leave to be here. I heard Alexander speak to him. I won
’t tax your understanding with more than that. By the dog of Egypt! If I were half such a fool as you, I’d hang myself.”
The boy muttered and went out. The young man gave me a long look over, smiled pleasantly, and departed also. I could make out none of it.
In fact, along with fresh troops from Macedon, the King had had fresh body-squires. By Macedonian custom, lords’ sons did this duty, part of which was to guard his person at night. Two or three years was the usual time of service; but in four years of war, the squires he set out with had become grown men. He had chosen them himself in Macedon; they knew all his ways, and he was used to things running smoothly. Now, promoted to the cavalry, they were supposed to be training the new boys, whom they held in the greatest scorn. All this I found out later.
I was now alone in the tent. No one seemed to be waiting to help the King disrobe; but no doubt they would be there presently. I kindled the night-lamp from the hanging one, and set it by the bed; then went to an empty corner, and sat cross-legged in the shadow, thinking about my fate.
There were voices outside; the King came in with two officers. It was clear they had just walked over engaged in talk; they would not be putting him to bed. This was awkward; he might not wish them to know he’d sent for me; so I stayed quiet in my dark corner.
When they went, I was about to rise and disrobe him; but he began to pace about as if he were alone. It seemed he wished his thoughts to be undisturbed. One learns when to be quiet.
He walked to and fro, his head tilted sideways, his eyes looking, as it seemed, out through the tent. After a while he sat down at the table, opened a wax diptych, and began to write. It seemed a strange task for a king. He had clerks to write whatever he wanted. In all my time with Darius, I had never once seen him touch a writing-tool.
Suddenly, without a word with the guards outside, without a pause at the entry, without asking leave, a young man came in. I knew him; he had been with the King when Nabarzanes brought me. The King, his back to the entry, went on writing. The man came straight up behind him, and took him by the hair.
I was too terrified even to scream. In an instant I thought a thousand horrors. I must get to the forest before the body was found. The killer planned to accuse me, knowing the King had sent for me. I would be three days dying.
Then, just as I rose to run for it, I perceived no blow had been struck; the newcomer had no weapon; and the King, a quick-moving man, had made no resistance. His head had not been pulled back, nor his throat cut. Simply, the other was ruffling his hair with his fingers, as a man does with a boy.
Astonishment held me rooted. I had understood. The man—I remembered his name, Hephaistion—now leaned his head beside the King’s, to read his writing. Coming a little to myself, I moved softly back to the concealing shadows. They both turned, and saw me.
My heart almost ceased to beat. I prostrated myself and kissed the floor. As I rose, Hephaistion was looking at the King with lifted brows, half laughing. The King, however, looked straight at me, and did not laugh at all.
He said, “Why are you here?” but all Greek had failed me. He beckoned me up, felt me over with hard firm hands, and said, “No weapon. How long have you been here?”
“My lord King, since after dinner.” I dared not remind him he had sent for me; no doubt he wished it forgotten. “I am sorry, indeed, my lord. I—I thought I was to wait on you.”
“You heard me say I would tell you your duties later.”
At these words, I felt a blush of shame flood my whole body and scald my face. Gladly I would have been swallowed by the earth. I could say nothing.
He saw my confusion. His harshness gone, he said quite gently, “Don’t distress yourself. I see you misunderstood me. I am not angry with you, Bagoas. You have leave to go.”
I made reverence and went out. The night guard stood facing outwards. I paused on the dark side of the tent. I had no friend here, no one to advise me. I must learn whatever I could.
The King said, “Since after dinner! And not a sound. He creeps about like a cat.”
“He was stiff with fright,” Hephaistion answered. “What have you been doing with him, Alexander? Eh?” He was laughing.
“At a guess,” said the King, “I should say he thought you meant to murder me. Remember he’s used to Persian manners, and court manners at that. Poor little wretch! He was Darius’ boy. I told him I’d see him later; of course he thought I wanted him for the night. I have put him to shame; all my fault; his Greek seemed good. I should have used the interpreter. One should have some Persian oneself, for things like this.”
“That would be worse. It took you long enough to learn Greek. Well, there’s your teacher. You might as well find some use for him; as it is, you’ve bought yourself talk enough.”
One of the guards moved; I had to slip away without hearing more.
My bed was in the clerks’ tent. A torch outside lit it dimly through the entry. Two were sleeping; the third, who had seemed to be, peeped out as I took off my clothes. It was a fit end to a dreadful day. I pulled up my blanket, bit on the pillow, and soaked it with silent tears.
I remembered Nabarzanes’ promises. What perfidy! How could he not have known this, knowing so much? The whole Macedonian army must know. How long must those two have been lovers, to behave like that, to talk like that? “It took you long enough to learn Greek”! Ten years?
The Queen’s Eunuch had told us how they had visited the royal tent together, and the Queen Mother had not known which to bow to. “Never mind, mother, you weren’t far out; he too is Alexander.” Not even from her had he troubled to hide it.
Why, I thought, did he ever accept my service? What does he want with a boy? He is somebody’s boy himself. And he must be twenty-five at least.
One of the clerks was snoring. For all my anger, I thought with longing of Nabarzanes’ house. Tomorrow it would be forsaken; by next year, rotting back into the forest. So all that was Persian in me would rot away, as I trailed through strange lands, a servitor in this barbarian army.
I recalled Nabarzanes saying, in a haze of lamplight and wine, “What can one give to a man like that? Something he has been wanting a long time, without being aware of it …” Well, he had fooled me as he did Darius; I should have expected it. And yet, he brought me here to win favor for himself; he never pretended otherwise. I am unjust, I thought. He must have acted in ignorance.
Soon after, worn out with trouble, I fell asleep.
11
WHEN ONE IS YOUNG, morning light does wonders. In the picket-lines, my horse (I had called him Lion) had been well cared for. Though the faces of the Thracian grooms seemed at first hardly human—these were the men who really painted themselves blue—one of them told me with grins and gestures what a fine horse he was. As I cantered up river in first light, my heart revived; till I saw a sight so shocking, I hardly believed my eyes.
A dozen young men were in the river itself, their whole bodies in the sacred waters, washing themselves; and, as if delighting in this impious pollution, splashing about or swimming. Among them was a mane of golden hair, which, wet as it was, could be nobody’s but the King’s. I thought that he looked my way, and galloped off in horror.
Barbarians! I thought. What vengeance will Anahita of the Waters take on them? It was a beautiful morning, fresh but turning warm. Truly, I had left all civilized things behind me. All the same … if one knew no better, what pleasure to slide through the sparkling river, bare as a fish.
But where it flowed past the camp, I saw there was no insult these people would not offer the deity of the stream. They were not only washing themselves; they were scouring pots, watering horses. All my disgust returned. No wonder I had had trouble finding a vessel to draw water for my toilet!
Still worse a misery was the indecency of the privies. Just a trench, even for the Household, and people walking in, which was bad enough. But the squires, and other mannerless people, would try to take a look at me. Any Persian boy has satisfied h
is curiosity about eunuchs before he is six years old; but here, grown men supposed one had been cut down to the shape of a woman. The squires had had a bet on it. For some days, exposed to these immodesties, I had to get to the woods before nature would obey me.
I had heard no more about my duties, and dreaded presenting myself at the King’s supper table. However, instead of dismissing me, he gave me some promotion. During the day, a number of noble Persians had come in, to surrender and swear allegiance. Nabarzanes had been let go with a bare pardon, because he had killed his King; but these others had been received as guests of honor. More than once, when something choice had been put before Alexander, he would direct a server to take a portion, and say to me, “Go to So-and-so, and tell him I hope he will enjoy this dish with me.” Though used to better food, the guests were pleased with this Persian compliment. I wondered he had learned so quickly; little knowing how.
Quite often, as he sent these delicacies away, I would warn him there would be nothing left for him; but he only smiled, and ate what everyone had. His sunburn had healed. One had to own that he was comely, even in Persia.
He never made me carry anything myself. He remembered last night, and was trying to heal my pride. It seemed that for someone reared in the wilds, he had much natural courtesy. One could not say as much for his Macedonians. His friends followed his lead; Hephaistion kept his eye on him all the time; but some (mostly those who had kept their beards) made it clear enough what they thought of eating with Persians. At any difference of manners, they would laugh or even point. There were lords here, whose forebears had been kings before Kyros’ time; but I was sure these uncouth westerners would have wished to see them carrying in the dishes. More than once, Alexander turned a cold eye on these boors; a few took notice, others pretended not to see.