The Eternal Banquet

by Jennifer Macaire

  Demos’s shout catapulted us out of our seats. Phaleria took her hands away from her face to look, and I gave a cry of amazement. Alexander was holding a short blade. I don’t know where it came from, but it took only a moment to cut himself free of the binding ropes.

  The Phersu was astounded. He hurled the ropes to the ground and uttered an outraged shriek. Alexander paid no attention, he was busy dodging another determined assault from the hellhound, but now he was unhindered, and now he was armed.

  He and the dog circled each other on equal footing. The crowd hushed, everyone stood or leaned forward, intent on the two figures in the dusk.

  They appeared to dance. The shadows grew longer as the fire burned down. The embers cast a scarlet light on Alexander’s slick skin and the dog’s matted fur. They looked like two demons capering on the bone-white sand. The dog’s attacks became less frenzied and more calculated. The knife in Alexander’s hand flashed in the firelight as he held the beast at bay.

  The crowd lost its hysteria. A supernatural quiet fell over the gathering and deepened with the blue shadows. I could hear my heartbeat, the whisper of the sand beneath Alexander’s feet, and the sound of the dog’s teeth as they snapped together. I don’t know how long the fight lasted. Perhaps only minutes, although it seemed like hours. Time slowed, the air stilled, the two figures converged in one of the deeper shadows, and only one came out again. It advanced painfully, crawling, to collapse in front of the red embers.

  My breath caught in my throat. In front of me, Paul’s shoulders twitched sharply, but neither of us uttered a sound. For a heart-stopping second I’d thought it was the dog, but no, it was Alexander on his hands and knees.

  He crouched, gathering his strength, and then rose to his feet. Pale sand and black blood streaked his body. Burnished red by the dying incandescence of the embers, he frightened me more than he ever had. His eyes were enormous, his face haggard, and his chest heaved. Then he tilted his head to the side, a gesture I knew so well, and I let my breath out in a long shuddering sigh. Next to me, Plexis stirred like a branch in the wind, and we clutched each other, two people drowning in a roaring sea of acclamations. The crowd voiced its approbation while Alexander stood in the middle of the applause and marshalled his strength. He held his head high. He ignored the blood streaming from his wounds, but he didn’t try to walk. His legs were braced beneath him; I could tell it was an effort for him to stand.

  I looked for the Phersu, but he had vanished. One moment he was standing next to the smouldering remains of a fire, the next instant he was gone. A wisp of grey smoke wafted across the sand. Then a breeze picked it up and whirled it away. Silent as shadows amidst the wild cheering, the gladiators came back into the arena for the final parade.

  They lifted Alexander, holding him above their heads. Arms reached down from the stands as the people tried to touch him. Over and over, they chanted his name as the parade marched around the ring. The costumed demons joined the parade, but they were defeated now. They slunk in the back of the procession while the crowd booed and jeered at them. The Phersu never reappeared. I searched for him, my heart hammering painfully, but he was gone, vanquished, extinguished.

  Two strong men slung the dog’s huge carcass between them. They held the beast’s legs over their shoulders and its muzzle and tail trailed on the ground. Its jaws gaped open, revealing sharp teeth. The spectators shrank back with shrill cries of fright when it passed. For Alexander, there was nothing but adulation. Flowers and coins rained down upon him. The gladiators waved at the crowd, but Alexander was unmoving. He was in pain. His injuries were grave and I could hear Demos muttering angrily. I hoped that Axiom, who was waiting at the villa, would have the medicine he needed for Alexander’s wounds. I hoped that Augustus would have his chariot ready to take Alexander back to the villa as quickly as possible. The procession drew near. Alexander searched the crowd with his gaze, and when he saw us, he smiled. His eyes were illuminated with a fierce light. Otherwise, he held himself painfully still. I didn’t dare wave, although the three boys were leaning forwards, ecstatically calling out his name. Paul’s voice was broken, hoarse with screaming. Phaleria sobbed and waved her scarf above her head, while Demos’s bellows made the air around us tremble. Plexis and I hunkered in our seats, holding each other tightly, tears in our eyes. I was still shaking, Plexis tried to ease my hand from his arm, but I was clutching too tightly; I wouldn’t let go. I had been too frightened.

  If what Demos said was right, then Alexander would first go into the gladiators’ quarters where a doctor would examine him. I didn’t know if the doctors would be any good, although Demos told me that the gladiators had the best physicians available. I wanted to go to Alexander, however only men or slaves were allowed into the rooms and corridors beneath the Circus Maximus.

  Chapter Eleven

  We went to Augustus’s villa. He’d come with three chariots, enough to carry us all. Alexander, he informed us, would come later that evening when the doctors finished with him. Plexis stayed behind.

  Elaina took my arm and led me away. I was reluctant to go, but my legs quivered and I felt light-headed. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything for over a day. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on what Elaina was saying, but instead my eyes drifted to my son, who was speaking to Demos. Paul gazed at the big man and his face was hard. I’d rarely seen him wear that expression. I thought I knew what they were discussing though. It turned out I was right. Demos wanted to find the glass merchant’s slave.

  The three boys chattered all the way back to the country villa, their faces flushed and their voices high with excitement. I recognized Paul’s hectic mood. Alexander was often like that after a battle. All the emotions mixed with relief were letting themselves out in a rush. Hirkan and Scipio were standing together in the chariot, their arms linked for balance. Their bodies were pressed shoulder to shoulder, heads touching and coming apart as they spoke, laughed, and jested. I wondered, vaguely ill at ease, if the boys would turn to each other sexually. I was used to such scenes after following Alexander’s army for ten years; but I wasn’t sure if ten years old was the right age to be initiated into such rites. Scipio and Hirkan were both older. I gripped the side of the chariot as we rode on, turning an attentive face towards Elaina. I would insist Paul stay with me for the night.

  Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  ‘Of course, when we heard that your husband was the Great Iskander, we wondered if it were a farce. He couldn’t have come back from the dead, no one does. You realize that since his death, several imposters have participated in the Game of Phersu, but your husband was the first to survive. Now, I’m sure, the gladiator guild will want to keep him on. Why, he could make a fortune! The lanista will offer him a considerable sum. If he insists on pretending to be the Great Iskander, however, he will have to fight battles that are even more difficult. I think you should be aware of that.’

  For a moment I was at a loss for words, then I nodded slowly. ‘I was hoping, actually, that your husband could help us,’ I said.

  She smiled. ‘After you saved Scipio, I’m sure there’s nothing we can refuse you.’

  I didn’t tell her that Scipio had been endangered solely by my own thoughtless actions. Instead, I thanked her and told her I wanted to move Paul’s bed into my room for the night.

  At the villa, Axiom was waiting impatiently to greet us. He had heard the news of Alexander’s victory from one of Augustus’s messenger pigeons. Still, I thought he appeared extremely worried as he helped Elaina and me out of the chariot.

  I asked Elaina if she could have food sent up to my room. Then Axiom, Paul, and I went to join Yovanix, who was waiting for us.

  Paul was still frantic with excitement, tripping over his tongue in his haste to describe the fight. Axiom and Yovanix listened to the recital, now and then asking a question, but otherwise silent. Axiom was more shocked than Yovanix about the gladiators. Yovanix had been a slave in Massalia, a port frequented
by the Romans. He’d heard about their games, and had even witnessed such things as cockfights and bear-baiting. Axiom was profoundly disquieted after hearing about Alexander’s wounds. He got up and paced, nearly colliding with the slave bringing us a huge tray of food.

  Yovanix and Paul sat on the floor, and Paul served Yovanix his dinner, telling him what everything was on his plate, while Axiom and I spoke in worried whispers.

  ‘I want to leave Rome as soon as possible, before Alexander truly gets recognized and made a permanent fixture in the games,’ I said to Axiom. ‘I wanted to go to Pompeii, but now I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. The Romans’ idea of entertainment is a ghastly, bloody, parody of sport.’ I was badly shaken.

  ‘I agree. It’s too dangerous now. Even if he’s not recognized, the fact that he won the Game of Phersu means every lanista will want to recruit him.’ Axiom rubbed his face. ‘It’s good thing he had a knife. I wonder where he got it.’

  ‘Maybe a gladiator dropped it in the sand, and he found it.’ I’d wondered the same thing, but thinking about the fight made my heart pound. I felt sick and pushed my plate away.

  ‘Here, take this,’ said Axiom, passing me a glass vial with a clear, amber liquid in it.

  ‘What is it? Will it hurt the baby?’ I asked. ‘I don’t want any drugs.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Vix made it. I promise it won’t hurt you or the babe. But you need it.’ He pressed it into my hand. ‘It will blunt the edge of your shock and help you sleep. I must go and prepare medicine for Alexander.’

  I sipped the bitter brew while Paul ate, talked, and gestured, reliving the whole battle several times. His words became muffled as my head swam. I need to lie down, I thought to myself.

  I don’t remember falling asleep. I woke up next day groggy, my head aching as if from a hangover, and my mouth dry. Then I remembered the sleeping draught. It had been a strong one, prepared by Vix. I blinked, then sat up. I was not alone in the room. Axiom, Yovanix, and Plexis were sitting on the rug. A breakfast platter of fresh fruit and smoked meats was on a table. And lying quite still, in a narrow bed near the window, was Alexander. His face was turned away from me, so I didn’t know if he was awake or not. Plexis and Axiom were whispering.

  Then Plexis noticed me, rose and came silently over to me. He sank down on the bed and put a hand on my shoulder. I felt his fingers tighten on my collarbone then relax, like a tremor. ‘Do you want some fruit?’ he asked quietly, motioning towards the tray set on the low table next to Axiom.

  ‘Yes. Is he all right?’ I asked, looking at Alexander.

  Plexis didn’t look at me. His hand tightened again. ‘He needs rest. The doctors at the Circus are very capable. They treated his wounds with alum and cauterized the worst ones. He’ll limp even more now, but his hamstring wasn’t damaged. He’ll be sore for a few days, but I suppose he’s used to that.’ He spoke in a low voice, more a murmur really, but Alexander had ears like a bat.

  ‘Do you really think I’m used to being hurt?’ he asked, turning to face us. His eyes were sunken and his face lined with fatigue. ‘I wish I were used to it, then perhaps it wouldn’t pain me so much.’

  ‘You’re awake!’ I got out of bed and knelt at his side. ‘You scared me so much,’ I told him, taking his hand and pressing it to my mouth.

  ‘I promise, by Mars and Jupiter, that I will never take part in another Roman game.’

  ‘By Mars and Jupiter? What happened to Ares and Zeus? Are you becoming Roman?’ Plexis frowned at his friend.

  ‘No, but when in Rome …’ his voice trailed off. We sat in silence, our hands entwined. Then he sighed, shifted on his pallet, and winced. ‘I was lucky, you realize. When I was captured, I didn’t understand at first. Then, when I was taken to the Circus Maximus, I thought I knew what would happen. But nothing I have ever seen or heard about prepared me for the Game of Phersu.’

  ‘How did you get the knife?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘Ahh, that was part of the luck I was speaking of. When I was inside the Circus, I met the gladiators and one of them was a man who’d fought in my army. He recognized me, but didn’t say anything to anyone else. He slipped me the knife just before I was taken to my prison cell. I never saw him again, so I suppose he was defeated in the arena.’ He was silent a moment, thinking, then he sighed. ‘He was a good man. I would have liked to have been able to repay him. He gave me the knife that saved me. Otherwise, I would never have been able to sever my bonds and kill the beast.’

  ‘Did anyone else recognize you?’ I pressed.

  ‘No.’ His voice was dry. ‘Fear not, for your Time-Gods will not find any trace of me here. The Circus has had many Alexanders. I was but one in a crowd.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of that.’

  His face relaxed, seeing my distress. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just nerves.’

  ‘We’re all on edge,’ said Axiom. ‘I’ll be glad to leave this city.’

  Alexander shivered. ‘I thought, in the beginning, that Rome was like Greece. But it isn’t. It is a mockery of Greece, a nightmare of Athens. The strangeness of the Etruscans seeps through to the surface and troubles the reflection of Roman civilization. The people sitting in the stands are more barbaric than the tattooed men who fight in their arena. They dress in fine robes, eat delicate meats, and live in houses that boast plumbing and heating, yet they are savages. Do you remember once, Ashley, you wondered what would have happened if the Romans had been beaten by the Greeks? What would have happened if I had conquered the Gauls, and not them? I wonder now myself what would have transpired.’

  ‘Perhaps the world would have been more civilized,’ I said. ‘Where is Paul? Has he eaten breakfast?’

  ‘Yes, don’t worry about him. He’s gone to find his friends. Tell me, why did he sleep here last night, and not with them?’ Alexander asked, then he winced when he tried to shift his position in bed. ‘I hurt everywhere. I knew there was a reason I fearedbig dogs.’ He shuddered. ‘Although I strongly doubt that was a dog. I’m willing to bet it came directly from Hades.’

  ‘Like yourself,’ I said.

  ‘Very funny. Why did Paul sleep here?’

  I honestly didn’t know what to answer, and I was saved from doing so by the boy in question, who poked his head into the room and asked in a loud whisper, ‘Is Father awake yet?’

  ‘He is, and you can see him. But don’t jostle him, he’s still in pain,’ said Axiom, measuring powder into a cup of wine then stirring it.

  ‘Hirkan and Scipio want to see him too.’

  ‘Bring them in,’ said Plexis, lifting me to my feet and settling me comfortably on a low couch. He gave me a plate of food and practically fed it to me while the three boys crowded reverently around Alexander, bending as close to him as Axiom would allow, and peppering him with questions.

  ‘Is it true that you are the Great Iskander?’ Scipio wanted to know. ‘And if it’s true, will you teach me the art of war? I need to learn in order to destroy Carthage and avenge my father.’

  I started at that, but Plexis pressed another piece of melon into my hand and said, ‘Eat!’

  Hirkan wanted to know if the dog really had been Cerberus, because, he added ingenuously, ‘If you are the Great Conqueror come back from Hades, you’d certainly have recognized the hellhound.’

  Paul wanted to know if Alexander would get the beast’s pelt, because he wanted to show it to Chiron. He also wanted a few of its teeth to put on a necklace like the ones the Iberian warriors wore.

  I stood up and slipped out of the room while Alexander answered the boys’ questions. I wanted to bathe, and I wanted to speak to Elaina. All I could think about was getting out of Rome. Too many people knew about Alexander. The threat of being erased would always hang over my head like Damocles’ sword. I hated living with the fear, but I had learned to accept it, as I’d learned to accept my missing hand. Yet, sometimes I reached for things, forgetting it was no longer part of me, and sometimes I could relax and forget about the future. W
hen I remembered, it always startled me. I couldn’t let my guard down.

  Elaina was in the kitchen, overseeing her slaves. She held an enormous eel in her hands and she was explaining to a young man how to prepare it. ‘After you remove the skin you must cut it in even pieces. Then, soak it in a mixture of fresh rabbit’s blood and honey. Add a handful of thyme and a cup of vinegar. You leave it overnight and in the morning pat the eel dry and cook it in hot olive oil. Brown it well on every side, then put it in the stew pot with three cups of wine, one half cup of honey, three cloves of garlic, a pinch of salt, and a pitcher of well water. When it has boiled, add the marinade, cover it, and cook it slowly for five hours.’ She handed the eel to the cook, who took it gingerly. Elaina saw me and smiled.

  ‘Just a moment, I must wash my hands.’ Elaina motioned to a slave holding a brass bowl. She rinsed her hands in the lemon-scented water and wrinkled her nose. ‘Nothing gets the odour of eel out, except lots of lemon. Do you like to cook?’ she asked.

  ‘I never learned how,’ I admitted.

  ‘I was taught by my mother. She made sure I studied the culinary arts. I prefer cooking to weaving,’ she said, shrugging.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and beg a favour of you.’

  ‘Go ahead, ask me anything.’ She rubbed her hands briskly and watched, her eyes narrowed, as a slave began to skin a rabbit.

  ‘I want to leave today. Could you ask your husband to make sure the proper passes are ready?’

  ‘Of course. You are heading towards Pompeii, are you not? I shall be sorry to see you go,’ said Elaina, surprising me. ‘I wanted to ask you so many things; you have travelled so far and seen so much. I have gone to Gaul as far as our farm in the Rhone valley and south as far as Carthage once. But I’ve never seen Athens or been to Iberia. Is Athens as lovely as they say? What did you appreciate the most? Have you been to Babylon? Tell me about it, please? Are the gardens fully as wonderful as they say?’