The Eternal Banquet

by Jennifer Macaire

  ‘No. Think about it.’ Alexander kissed me on the tip of my nose. ‘It is good news. It tells us two things: first, Cleopatra is still alive and, second, she is under Ptolemy’s protection. We can take our time. No one will dare harm our daughter.’

  ‘You’re delirious,’ said the newscaster, nodding at Alexander. ‘I said Cleopatra, the daughter of the great Alexander. He died in Babylon.’

  ‘He was supposed to,’ I said with a wince, getting to my feet and then leaning over, bracing my forearms on my knees while my head spun. ‘Oh, I feel sick. It’s a lucky thing that dinner we ate was good,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think I’m about to see it again,’ I said weakly.

  ‘Oh, no, you’re not,’ said Alexander, hoisting me upright and pressing a small vial to my lips. The strong mint drops calmed my stomach immediately. The druid had something there, I thought.

  ‘Thank you. I’m feeling much better,’ I said, my eyes tearing from the potion. ‘Whew, that’s strong!’

  Alexander beamed. ‘It works wonders,’ he said, ‘I don’t get half as seasick on those infernal boats as I used to. Amazing, isn’t it? If I’d had this before, I would have conquered Africa, or gone to India by boat and conquered it from there.’

  ‘You mean, the only reason we walked was because you get seasick?’ Nearchus sounded upset.

  ‘No, no! Of course not,’ Alexander hastened to reassure him. ‘We had to follow Paul.’

  ‘That’s true, we followed Paul,’ said Axiom, his eyes twinkling ‘Halfway around the world.’

  ‘Well, at least you could follow something, because you’ve certainly lost me,’ said the newscaster. He climbed back up onto his pedestal then leaned over to get a good look at us. ‘You are the most confusing group of people to listen to. You,’ he said, pointing to Alexander, ‘Are certainly from Macedonia, and you,’ this time he pointed to Paul. ‘You speak a strange mixture of Persian and Greek. The redheaded woman is Celt, from Britain. Iceni, if I’m not mistaken. The large man is Persian. You are Greek,’ he continued, pointing to Nearchus. ‘Born in Crete. I’m never wrong about accents. And you sir, are certainly from Greece.’ Axiom nodded, impressed. ‘I am an expert on tongues, as are most of us newscasters and translators. But you,’ he pointed to me, ‘have the most bizarre accent. Almost as if —’

  ‘Not another word,’ I interrupted, holding my hand up. ‘I know what I sound like, and believe me, I can’t help it.’

  ‘You should hear her speak Latin,’ said Demos, a grin on his face.

  ‘Oh?’ The newscaster looked intrigued. ‘At any rate, it’s the first time I’ve been unable to identify an accent, so be fair and tell me where you’re from.’

  ‘All right,’ I shrugged, it wouldn’t make any difference. ‘I’m from America.’

  There was a silence as everyone around me digested this titbit of information. I’d never told anyone where I was from. Finally, the newscaster said, meditatively, ‘America must be somewhere north of the Po valley.’ But he didn’t sound convinced.

  We thanked him for the news and went back to our inn. For the villagers, the night was just getting started, but our feet dragged and our shoulders slumped. The thought of sleeping in a real bed in a real bedroom was enticing.

  The bed was dirty and had fleas. The room was tiny, and the noise from the street kept me awake. Every time I’d start to slide towards sleep, a loud laugh, a shriek, or a barking dog would startle me awake. With a muffled groan, I buried my head under Alexander’s arm and tried to ignore the fleas biting my leg. When, I couldn’t stand it any more, I slapped at them, forgetting I didn’t have a left hand. It’s very frustrating not being able to scratch.

  My head was aching when I woke the next day. Paul and Plexis had gone, and the bed was empty as well. Alexander always woke up at first light, no matter what. He was probably downstairs or at the baths. After a sweaty, flea-filled night, the thought of a warm bath made my spirits rise considerably. I took my soap, shampoo, and a clean tunic, and headed downstairs to find the innkeeper. I wasn’t going to spend one more night in the bedroom he’d given us unless it was completely washed, aired out, and new sheets were put on the beds.

  Finding the man wasn’t difficult; I just followed the sound of his bellowing. After I’d straightened things out with him, I tucked my bath things under my arm and headed towards the baths. I was sure I’d find Alexander there, and I was right. The Greeks, as I’ve said before, loved cleanliness.

  Plexis and Alexander were in deep discussion. I smiled as I approached and they both looked up at me.

  ‘Well, finally awake?’ Plexis said. ‘Not too tired?’

  ‘Very tired,’ I admitted, sitting next to them. ‘I hardly slept, the bed was dreadful. Didn’t the fleas bother you? And the sheets weren’t clean. I gave orders to the …’ My voice trailed off. The two men weren’t listening. Plexis had a frown on his face and was staring over my shoulder while Alexander examined something on the inside of his wrist.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, looking from one to the other.

  Alexander said, ‘Nearchus wants to leave us and go to Africa.’

  ‘We’re heading towards Carthage,’ I said.

  ‘No, he wants to leave the inner sea and travel down the coast from the exterior ocean, the one you call the Atlantic.’

  ‘What, by himself?’

  ‘No, he’s gone to the harbour to find a boat. Last night he heard someone talking about exploring the coast and it got him thinking.’ Alexander spoke sadly. I could understand why.

  The thought of losing Nearchus was painful. He’d always been around, tall, silent, and serious. I glanced over at Plexis. His face was tight. They were very close friends. Then I turned to Alexander. I knew what Nearchus felt for him, but Alexander’s feelings had always been more ambiguous.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked me.

  ‘I was thinking about how much I was going to miss him,’ I said, and I was surprised by the catch in my voice.

  ‘We’ll all miss him.’ Alexander pulled me down onto his lap. ‘He’ll meet us in Alexandria in one year,’ he said.

  ‘Is that enough time to explore the coast, do you think?’ asked Plexis, frowning at me.

  ‘It should be,’ I said cautiously. ‘But it’s a very dangerous place, full of warring tribes and wild animals.’

  ‘He wants to talk to you about it,’ said Alexander. ‘He wants you to help him plan his voyage.’

  My shoulders sagged. ‘I never went to Africa. It’s one of the forbidden places.’

  ‘But you know the contours of the land, the distances, the dangers, and you can warn him what things to look out for. Please, Ashley, he needs you.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, I promise.’ I sat up and took Alexander’s face in my hand. I tilted it a bit, so that the sun shone on it. I smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I think if anyone can sail around Africa at this time it’s Nearchus. Does he have a boat?’

  ‘He will find one, I’m sure, by the time the week’s up. After he leaves, we must make haste to Carthage. I want to get there before the ceremonies.’ Alexander’s gaze never wavered from mine.

  I leaned over and kissed him, then straightened up and looked towards the bathhouse. ‘It’s time for the women to bathe – shall I see you back at the inn for lunch?’

  ‘If we’re not at the inn, go to the port; we’ll be with the dragon boat,’ said Plexis, standing up and stretching. His eyes were shadowed, his face pensive. I thought he was still thinking about Nearchus, and I was right.

  In the bath, it hit me. Plexis was caught in a dilemma. On one hand he longed to go with Nearchus and sail around the coast of Africa, seeing for himself the incredible sights I’d told them about. On the other hand he wanted to stay with Alexander and me, especially since I was carrying his child and would give birth in less than five months. When I finished bathing and returned to the inn, Plexis was alone in our room, standing near the window. I had opened the door
quietly but he heard me. A smile tugged at his lips.

  ‘I wanted to speak to you,’ he said softly. He took my toilet case from my hand, set it on the commode, and then motioned me to sit on the bed. He sat on the floor at my feet, his arms on my knees, his hands folded over my thighs. ‘I want to go with Nearchus, but I cannot.’

  ‘You can if you really want to, you know that. I would never begrudge you the voyage,’ I said, stroking his glossy curls.

  ‘I know that, but I cannot go. I could never leave you, especially in your condition.’

  ‘Are you sorry I’m pregnant?’ I asked him. A stab of worry made me turn my face away. I didn’t want him to see my distress.

  ‘No, you can’t believe that. I’m happy, and Iskander is happy. No, it’s not for that reason that I won’t go. But I do admit to wanting to. It’s a strange feeling I have, as if Nearchus …’ He broke off. ‘You know how I get these funny feelings sometimes. And often they turn out to be absolutely nothing.’

  ‘But sometimes they come true. Is that why you’re worried? Do you think Nearchus will be in danger?’

  ‘I’d be a fool not to think that. Why, just going to Carthage will be dangerous. That must be the explanation. The danger is real and I feel it keenly, that’s all.’

  ‘Why did you want to talk to me?’

  ‘You know I never ask you about the future. But I wanted to know if you remembered anything from your history books about Nearchus. Does he die in Africa? Can you tell me that?’ His voice was halting.

  I looked at him. His tone was strange, but I put it down to his worry about Nearchus. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that. I can’t recall anything else besides the fact that he was Iskander’s admiral, and that he wrote a book about the trip he took from the mouth of the Indus to Babylon.’

  ‘He’s already published that, I know, because he left the manuscript in Alexandria and Ptolemy was going to take care of it. It will be one of the books in the modern section of the new library there.’

  ‘The modern section?’ My mouth twitched.

  Plexis nodded, an answering smile on his lips. I looked down at him, and the feeling that had been growing in my belly made me close my eyes again, but this time it wasn’t pain, unless sharp desire can be called pain.

  Plexis knew what I was feeling. His hands slid over my thighs and grasped my hips, and he pulled himself up and onto me. His mouth sought mine, his hands roamed over my body, caressing me. His breath grew harsher and deepened. ‘Two months on a crowded boat is too long,’ he murmured. ‘I missed making love to you, I missed the taste of you, the feel of you, and the … oh, by Eros, I, I can’t talk any more.’

  ‘Then don’t.’ I arched my back and welcomed him in, my own breath catching in my throat and leaving it with a cry. ‘Harder,’ I gasped, then said nothing as the feelings crested over me and I was swept away by the movement of his hips.

  There was a moment of silence, when we both stopped breathing and moving, savouring the sensations that joined us as one. Then the wave broke and we shuddered together. It made him cry out, as if he were in pain, but I knew better, he always fought against losing himself, and when it happened it shook him to his very bones. Afterwards we held each other. The tremors in my body answered his. His hair was damp with sweat and his breathing came in deep shudders.

  ‘Shh, there now. Hold me. Hold me tightly, Plexis. Oh, how I love you. Look at your arm, it’s shaking.’

  ‘How could I leave you?’ he asked, and his voice was rough with emotion.

  ‘And yet, I would never hold you back. If you want to go, you must.’

  ‘No, I want to stay. We will travel to Africa together. Life is long; we have years and years before us. We shall wait for Nearchus to come home, and then he’ll take us to the places he loved best.’ He was silent for a moment, resting next to me, his hand on my belly, his head pressed to mine. ‘What was that?’ he whispered, raising his head and looking down at his hand.

  ‘Did you feel it?’

  ‘The baby moved, was that what I just felt? It was like, I don’t know, as if you had a butterfly in your stomach, just there. Oh! It moved again,’ he laughed weakly and bent his head down to kiss the soft swelling of my belly. ‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear me? It’s your father. I’m right here.’ He lay his cheek against my stomach and smiled when he felt the tiny movement stir against his skin. Tears fell from his closed eyes. I stroked his head and said nothing.

  We stayed in Iberia for three days, then Nearchus found a swift boat and sailed away from us, leaving one morning with the wind coming from the east. The sun had just cleared the horizon, and its light was shell pink and tender on the boat’s white sails. Nearchus stood on the deck, one hand on the mast, the other raised in a salute. He didn’t say anything, but his face glittered, as did ours, with tears.

  We waved. We called farewell and wept bitterly as his ship left the harbour and dwindled in the distance. For an hour we stood watching, then when his sail was nothing but a small bright triangle on the horizon, we turned and made our way back to our boat. We were leaving too, but in the opposite direction, and it was the west wind that would take us across the Mediterranean towards Carthage.

  The boat was soon loaded and our baggage stowed away. The inn had been expensive but we’d traded well, and Alexander was able to pay and still have money left over. We were silent as we stepped on board, and silent as we raised the sails and cast off. In the purple evening, the air was cool. The villages along the coast started to light their lamps and soon they were all we could see.

  Before the lights of the town were lost to us in the evening mist, Vix sacrificed a young goat, first scattering barley over its head, then cutting its throat. Half the goat was burned in honour of the gods on Olympus and half was thrown into the sea to appease Poseidon. Vix then filled a silver chalice with wine and poured it into the water while singing a chant invoking the clemency of the gods for our journey. Another goat was sacrificed, this time to slake our appetites, and Erati grilled morsels of meat and basted them with flame-coloured wine. In the purple dusk, we ate our dinner. Then we sat in a circle of lamplight and talked softly, our voices hardly rising above the whisper of wind in the sails.

  ‘He had been wanting to go for so long,’ said Alexander. ‘Even before we left for Gaul he started planning. But he came with us.’

  ‘And now he’s gone.’ Plexis spoke with a sigh. The lamplight made shadows on our faces. ‘I hope your map will help him,’ he said to me.

  I didn’t answer. My throat was too tight. I remembered the last night we’d spent in the inn, sitting around a low table, examining the map I’d drawn from memory, speaking about all the possible dangers. I was afraid that I’d forgotten something vital, something that he would need to know, and it worried me.

  ‘Your help was immense,’ said Alexander, taking my face in his hands and looking into my eyes. ‘Just the map would have been enough. But you also told him about the natives and the animals. He will return, have no fear. He will sail down the coast to the Equator then come back home. He promised, and besides, the crew with him will want to go no further.’

  ‘He’ll want to go on,’ I whispered, pressing closer to him. ‘He’ll ask to go on alone, he’ll go on foot if he has to. I know him; he won’t even care if he dies there. His heart is broken, it broke the day Plexis came to Orce.’

  Alexander shook his head. ‘No, you don’t know Nearchus.’ He pulled me to his chest and held me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe it’s all my fault.’

  ‘It matters not,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re wrong, Plexis never broke his heart, and neither did you.’

  ‘Then you did,’ I said sadly. ‘I saw it in his face, before he left. He was so sorrowful.’

  ‘That’s why he will come back,’ said Alexander. ‘He’ll come back because he will miss me.’

  We slept on deck, in the shelter of the cabin, as we often d
id when the weather was fair. Beneath us was a pallet of hay covered with smooth linen, above us were the twinkling stars, and all around was the vast sea, slapping gently against the hull, as the boat rose and fell with the waves.

  Chapter Three

  One week later, we sailed into the harbour in Carthage. I got my first glimpse of the fabled city at noon. The sun flashed on the wonderful mosaics and glittered off the billions of scintillating tiles covering the pillars and houses. The mosaics and tiles were amazing, with deep hues of turquoise, blues and greens, pepper-hot reds, oranges, and all the golds and yellows of the sun. The effect was glorious.

  The harbour was deep and very grand, as Carthage was a seaport. At her back was the endless desert, in front, her arms curled around the water like a mother holding a child. Some caravans did come from the arid wasteland, bringing gold and strange spices and skins to trade, but most everyone came to Carthage by the sea.

  Boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed in the harbour. In front of the Imperial Palace, protected by a jetty that cut the harbour in two, was the Imperial Fleet of triremes, low, sleek warships, all with sharp prows, triple levels of rowers, beautifully weighted keels, able to change direction forwards or backwards, instantly. They were guarded by armed soldiers and ready to leave at a moment’s notice, day or night. The Imperial Palace took up a good part of the peninsula reaching out on the left side of the bay as you looked at Carthage, your back to the sea. On the right were the customs buildings, the trading docks, the unloading and loading piers, and the fish markets.

  In the harbour, was a small island girdled by a sandy beach. A temple was built upon it. A humped stone bridge led to the island from the centre of the waterfront. There were no docks on the island. Just a wide, golden beach surrounded by jumbled boulders. An arched stone gate with an iron door stood on the island side of the bridge. The door was closed. The temple was deserted. We couldn’t even sail close to the island. Sharp rocks sticking out of the water guarded it.