by Mary Renault
He woke uncalled, while it was still too dark to see much. Some of the officers were waiting for him. The top of the Rock was a dark loom in the faint sky. As its edges sharpened, Alexander stared up devouringly. His eyes were good; but Leonnatos could see far things like a hawk, though when he wanted to read, he had to hold the writing out the length of his arm. He pointed up, and cried, “They’re there! They’re signaling!”
The rising light showed them clustered on the blunt summit, as thick as cormorants. They had unrolled the long strips of linen they had carried bound around them; the signals streamed in the breeze.
Alexander stepped out, lifted his shield and flashed it at them. The trumpet squealed under the crags; the big voice of the herald bawled to the defenders to look above them; Alexander had found winged men.
The chief’s son, who was in command, at once asked terms of surrender. He could not see how many were up there, or what arms they had, which were none; their pegs and mallets had been enough to carry. Thirty had died, one man in ten. Their graves were the maws of kites; but Alexander gave them a rite of honor, with an empty bier, after the custom of the Greeks.
It took two days, for all the people to come down from the Rock with their goods and gear. I wondered how the women could manage the giddy path, in the wide skirts of Sogdiana; but I suppose they had done it often, in the endless tribal wars.
The chief’s son, who never learned that the King’s eagles had had no claws, came and pledged himself, promising to send a message to his father. To seal their compact, he begged the honor of entertaining the King to a royal feast.
It was agreed, for two days later. I was only afraid they meant to knife him as he sat at meat. It would be nothing much, for Sogdians.
I dressed him for it, in the Mitra and his grandest robe. He was in good spirits. Though he grieved for his mountaineers, this stronghold might have cost many hundred lives. The enemy had shed no blood at all, and were grateful enough to promise anything.
“Take care, Al’skander,” I said as I combed his hair. “He may offer you his daughter, like that Scythian king.”
He laughed. His friends had been very pleasant about the matter, picturing the bride being cut out of the clothes she’d been sewn up in some winters back, having the rancid mares’-milk fat scraped from her hair, her vermin picked off, and so on, to make her lovely for the marriage bed.
“If that young man has a daughter, she’s under five. You must come to the feast, it should be worth seeing. Put on that new suit of yours.”
The chief’s son, Histanes, had certainly spared no pains. A lane of torches led from the camp to his hall. Music came out, quite good for Sogdiana. (I had once heard Alexander compare Persian singing to the yowl of mating cats; but he hadn’t known I was listening.) The King was embraced by his host upon the threshold. It was a big hall. Oxyartes must be rich as well as powerful. Hangings of scarlet, stitched with ramping lions and leopards, smoldered in the light of torches enough to warm the air. The high table was set with gold and silver; gums I had not smelled since I left Susa burned in the fretted censers. If some of the Macedonians thought the place would have been worth sacking, they had to keep it to themselves.
The food was good and spicy; the caravans from India pass that way. Alexander and the host had an interpreter standing by them; the other Macedonian guests got along as best they could, letting their dishes be heaped up twice for good manners. Alexander, light eater as he was, performed this duty. He is wishing, I thought, they’d bring on the wine instead.
The sweets came in, and the wine. Histanes and Alexander pledged each other, exchanging compliments; then the interpreter stood forth and addressed us all in Greek. To honor the King, the ladies of the household would appear and dance. This was something indeed, in Sogdiana, where to look at their women is a matter for long knives.
I was at the foot of the table, near the royal squires. Ismenios had moved over to sit by me. His friendliness had increased; if he wished, as I thought, for more, he kept it to himself from loyalty to Alexander. I was his debtor for much kindness, and for smoothing my way with the others when he could.
The Sogdian youth on my other side now addressed me in their uncouth Persian, which I could barely understand. With both hands he drew female curves in the air, smiling and rolling his eyes. I said to Ismenios, “It seems there’s beauty in store.”
“They’ll perform up at the top,” he said, “for the King and generals. Only their backs for us. We must make do with one another.”
The musicians struck up a stately measure; the women entered, stepping to the beat, not dancing yet. Their heavy clothes were crusted with embroidery; gold chains, hung with gold pendants, circled their brows; massive rings on their arms and ankles clashed as they moved, or tinkled with little bells. We had hardly glimpsed them before they turned away from us to bow, with arms crossed on their breasts, before the King.
Histanes pointed, no doubt at the chief’s close kin, for some of them bowed again. Alexander inclined his head with a glance for each. I thought he paused, once, before his eye moved on. Ismenios said, “Yes, one of them must be beautiful, to make the King look twice.”
The music quickened; they began to dance.
In Persia, only such women dance as are trained in it to rouse men. This dance was decent and seemly; they hardly showed more than their hennaed feet, as they twirled their heavy skirts and clashed their anklets. Their bending had grace, without invitation; their swaying arms were like rippling barley. But you would be foolish, to call this modest dancing. These ladies were above modesty. Its place was taken by pride.
Ismenios said, “All very proper. One’s own sister could do all that. Maybe we’ll have real dancing later. Now you could have showed them something.”
I hardly heard him. The women wheeled in slow circles, or joined in a winding chain. Alexander’s eyes, as they turned with the wheel or followed the chain along, were always fixed on one link.
He liked all things good of their kind. I had heard him praise a fine woman, often enough. Yet my belly shrank on itself, and my hands grew cold.
He spoke to the interpreter, who pointed questioning. Alexander nodded; he was asking who that one was. Histanes replied, with some increase of dignity. She must be someone of rank; no doubt his sister.
The music grew louder; the line of women turned, and came down the hall. All of us guests must have our share of honor.
I knew at once which she was. Yes, a sister; I saw the likeness; he was a handsome man. She was about sixteen, full womanhood in Sogdiana. Pure ivory, faintly tinted, and not by art; soft hair, blue-black, small fronds brushing her cheeks; a clear forehead under the gold pendants; brows with a perfect arch, over large brilliant eyes. She had the kind of beauty that is famed for leagues around, and made no pretense of not knowing it. Her one defect was that her fingers were not quite long enough, and the ends too pointed. I had learned to look for such things in Darius’ harem.
Alexander’s eyes were following her still, waiting for her to turn his way again. She passed by me, sitting there in the new suit he had liked so much; and he never saw me.
The Sogdian youth pulled at my sleeve, and said, “Roxane.”
They danced back to the high table and made sweeping bows. Once more the interpreter hovered. As they turned to go, Histanes beckoned his sister. She came up; Alexander rose to his feet, and took her hands. He spoke and she replied. Her profile, now turned my way, was carved without flaw. When she went out, he stood till she had gone.
Ismenios said, “Well, one knows one’s in Sogdiana. No Persian girl would have done that, would she?”
I answered, “No.”
“Still, Alexander asked to speak to her. I thought so, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I thought so.”
“And sober as a judge. I expect he was just honoring the host. It’s true, she’s beautiful. Of course she’s darker; but she has somehow a look of you.”
“You flatter me.
” He had always been kind. He sat there smiling over his wine with his clear blue eyes, his flaxen hair a little damp from the heat, turning the knife in my heart.
Up at the high table, Histanes and the King were busy with the interpreter. Alexander had barely touched his wine. The room grew hot; I loosed the neck of my coat, with its ruby-clustered buttons. The last hand to open it had been his.
I had found him Hephaistion’s boy, and with me he had wished for manhood. It had been my pride. So now I had given him to a woman. I sat in the hot torchlight, tasting death, and being pleasant to those around me, as I had been taught when I was twelve years old.
18
IN HIS TENT I awaited his return, listening to my demons.
I answered them: So he has chosen a concubine. Darius had more than three hundred. How am I wronged? Any other king would have been married before he met me; from the first I would have shared him, with who knows how many, awaiting the night of favor.
Oh yes, they answered. But those were the days when you had a master. You have had a lover since then. Get ready, Bagoas, you have felt nothing yet. Wait till he comes to bed. Perhaps he will have her with him.
Perhaps so, I told the demons. But he is my lord whom I was born to follow. He never turns away love; nor can I take it back though it scalds my soul like the Fiery River. Thus it is. So go, and laugh somewhere else.
The feast had been over a long time. Was he still bargaining with her kin? At last I heard him; but he had with him most of his chief generals, the last thing I’d expected. Late as it was, they all came in, and talked in the outer chamber. It was well I listened; I had time to get over the shock of what I heard. At first I could not believe it.
Hephaistion stayed on last. They talked too quietly for me to overhear. Then he went too, and Alexander came in.
“You shouldn’t have waited up. I ought to have sent you word.”
I said it was nothing, and that his bath-water was on the way. He paced about; and no wonder. I knew he would speak before long; he could not keep it in.
“Bagoas.”
“Yes, Alexander.”
“Did you see Oxyartes’ daughter, Roxane? She was presented, after the dance.”
“Yes, Alexander. We were all speaking of her beauty.”
“I shall marry her.”
Yes, it was well I was prepared. One more astounded silence would have been too much for his temper, I daresay.
“May you be happy, my lord. She is truly a pearl of light.” A Sogdian! A mere chief’s daughter! Useless to hope he had not yet asked for her, and would wake in his right mind tomorrow. I could see it was too late.
He was pleased with my words. I’d had time to get them ready. “They’re all against me,” he said. “Hephaistion will stand by me; but he’s against it too.”
“My lord, they only think no one at all is worthy of you.”
He laughed. “Oh, no! Some Macedonian girl I never set eyes on, carted out to me hit or miss; she’d have been worthy … Roxane. What does it mean in Persian?”
I answered, “Little Star.” He was pleased with that.
The bath-water came, and I had a chance to undress him. When the slaves had gone, he said, “I’ve known a long time I ought to marry in Asia. It is necessary. The peoples must be reconciled. It can only begin with me. This is the one way left. This, they’ll have to accept.”
I said, “Yes, Alexander,” thinking, Suppose they won’t?
“But since I knew this, I’ve not seen a woman I could put up with, until tonight. Have you ever seen her equal?”
“Never, my lord, even among Darius’ ladies.” I think this was really true, but for her hands. “Of course, I never saw the Queen. That would not have been permitted.” I said this to make sure he never brought me into her presence.
“I only saw her once; and again when she was dead. Yes, she was beautiful; like a lily on a tomb. Her daughters were children then. They are older now, but … Well, they are his too. I will not breed a son from the stock of cowards. This girl has spirit.”
“Without doubt, Alexander. One can see it in her eyes.” That was true enough. What sort, was another thing.
He was too restless to sleep, but paced about in his bath-robe, running on about the wedding, how he was sending word to Oxyartes her father, and so on. Strange to say, I found comfort in it. He would never have made me listen to all this if he meant to turn me away; it was not in him. I could see such a thought had never entered his head.
Of course, he knew it was the girl he desired at present; but it was not from carelessness he did not know my pain. Affection ran deeper in him than passion, always. He had given it to Philotas, whose treachery had cut him like a lover’s. He had given it me, and still felt true to it. Suddenly I wondered if Hephaistion had felt as I did.
At last I got him to bed. It was not far short of morning. “Bless you, in the name of both our gods. You are the only one who has understood.” He drew down my head and kissed me. The held-back tears flooded my eyes; but I got out before he knew it.
Oxyartes came in a few days later, to make peace. Of course Alexander did not give him back the Rock, which he meant to garrison; but the chief had made a pretty good bargain, if his grandson was to be Great King. When he got the news that Alexander meant to marry the girl, whom any other victor on earth would have taken as prize of war, I expect he could not believe his ears.
The wedding feast, now preparing, looked like making the last one seem a mere family supper. The kindred had been summoned, they were decking the bridal room. All I wished to know was what Alexander meant to do with her when he moved on. Sogdian women are not like ours. What if she expected to live with him in his tent, doing everything for him, only going inside when men appeared; seeing no reason for my presence but as her servant? If he lets that happen, I thought, it will be a good time to die.
Then appeared a fine new tent, and a splendid wagon, roofed and curtained with embroidered leather. My heart revived.
He called me to him and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Will you do me a kindness?” “How can you ask?” “Come to Roxane’s tent, and tell me what is wanting. I don’t know much of these things. I have taken advice; but these people never lived at court.”
I smiled back at him and he led me in. I could have told him this Sogdian girl had never guessed such splendors existed, and would not know the use of half the toilet things. But I went gravely round, spoke well of orange-flower water if it could be obtained, and said nothing else was lacking. The bed was very grand, in the heavy style of the province. There came back to me the scent of cedarwood, and the salt breeze of Zadrakarta.
As the day approached, it was clear the Sogdians were happy, but no one else was. Macedonians of rank took it very ill. If he had traded the girl for her brother’s life, and had her dragged to his tent, it would have been a trifle; a scream or two would have been worth some bawdy jokes. But marriage, that affronted their victors’ status. If he’d first taken a Macedonian Queen, and added this girl as a minor wife (his father, so they said, had had many such), they would not have grumbled. As it was, many had a daughter at home, whom they thought should have been preferred. They were only kept quiet by his not conferring the rank of Queen on her. I was pleased to see he was not so far gone as that.
As for the men, all soldiers like oddities in a leader they admire; they like him to be a legend. They were used to the Persian dancing-boy; if he’d had no one for his bed, they’d have wondered what was wrong with him. But this was another thing. They had fought to subdue Sogdiana, because he said it was necessary; now it was rumored he thought of India. They started wondering if he meant to go home at all. He had spread his wings; the whole earth was his home. But they thought of their villages, the hills where they’d herded goats in boyhood, and Macedonian children by Macedonian wives.
Whatever we all thought, the day arrived, true to its time as death. While I dressed him for the feast, he smiled to himself, as if now it was come
he hardly believed it could be happening. A crowd of his friends came in, to wish him joy in the usual way. It pleased them when he did not put on the Mitra—he was taking a wife, not a Queen—and the jokes grew lively. Nobody noticed me; except that once Hephaistion glanced my way when he thought I did not see; in curiosity, or triumph, or pity, there was not time to guess.
The feast began; a blaze of light and heat and gold and color, reeking with roast meats; the great barbaric heaps of the bride-goods on their stands; bridegroom and bride enthroned. It was a fine still night; all the flames burned upright. There was deafening music, everyone shouting over it. The bride looked about with her glowing eyes, as if no one had ever taught her to cast them down; till Alexander spoke to her through the interpreter, when she turned them upon him.
They brought in the ritual loaf, for him to divide with his sword. He broke off a piece from her half, gave it her to eat, and tasted his own. They were now man and wife. We all rose to our feet to cheer them. My throat closed; I could not utter a sound. The torches stifled me and burned my eyes. Yet I kept my place, ashamed to be seen going. If I stayed much longer, they would be bedding the bride.
In the shoving crowd, a hand slid under my arm. Without turning, I knew it was Ismenios.
“She is beautiful,” I said. “Are you envying the bridegroom?”
“No,” he said in my ear. “But I did before.”
I leaned a little nearer. It seemed to happen of itself, like blinking against dust. He eased me out from the press. We found coat and cloak in the heap outside, and went out under the cold Sogdian stars.