The Eternal Banquet

by Jennifer Macaire

  That wasn’t the only bad news Alexander had received. From Persia came news of Perdiccas’ death. He’d been betrayed and killed by his own officers.

  I didn’t dare tell him the slaughter was far from over. Somehow, I’d always managed to dodge the matter. I couldn’t tell him that the betrayals and treason would only intensify, accelerate, and finally end with the complete annihilation of Alexander’s family and most of his friends.

  Nearchus’s death was a terrible blow to Plexis as well. Although he stayed with me because I was pregnant, I knew that part of him wished he’d gone with Nearchus. With Alexander and Plexis grieving for their friend, I felt helpless.

  Luckily, Yovanix and Phaleria were around for company; otherwise, the three weeks we spent sailing would have been unbearable for me. Yovanix wanted to know everything about Alexandria, so Paul and I described the city. Phaleria was sure she was pregnant and, as it was her first child, asked me endless questions. It was a welcome diversion. I drew some sketches showing the baby in a woman’s womb in the different stages of development. I told her what things to eat and what to avoid, and reassured her countless times a day that everything was normal and perfectly fine.

  Demos, who’d lost his first wife in childbirth, was as nervous as Phaleria, and sacrificed nearly all our chickens to Hera.

  I was nearing my eighth month of pregnancy. When I walked, I walked slowly. My appetite diminished, and I started to have trouble sleeping at night. Heartburn plagued me during this time. Axiom ground up some medicine and gave me the chalky stuff to swallow after my meals. I wasn’t used to feeling poorly. Before, I’d always had lots of energy right up until the last week. I was worried, and went to see Axiom. He told me I was simply nervous. Vix concocted potions guaranteed to give me back my vitality and make the baby strong.

  For three weeks I rested as much as my heartburn and nerves would let me. I tried to eat the various dishes Erati made to tempt me. I tried; I honestly did try. I played dice with Oppi and Paul, and admired the fish they caught. I spoke to Phaleria, doing the drawings, explaining the symptoms she was feeling, and soothing her fears. I also spoke to Demos, pointing out how natural it was to have children, and asked him to let Erati keep some chickens.

  By the time we were nearly in Alexandria, I was feeling depressed. Alexander and Plexis had barely spoken to me for the entire trip. They hadn’t spoken to anyone, really, they were quiet and distant, each alone with his own sorrow, but they had erected an invisible wall between them and me. I felt it keenly, and it broke my heart although I tried not to show it. I was also tired, so very tired of travelling. And looking into my future, I could only see more of the same. Alexander was doomed, like Odysseus, to be an eternal voyager. And how ironic it was, seeing that Odysseus had first to find Persephone before he could make his way back home.

  Ptolemy had made Alexandria the capital of Egypt. And, as Alexander had remarked, it would make it very difficult for us to live there. I hadn’t thought about that too much. I had been looking forward to going home. It was important for me. Perhaps my pregnancy made me more attached to that concept; perhaps I was simply tired of travelling. Twelve years of constant voyaging was taking its toll at last. However, we arrived to an atmosphere totally different from anything I was expecting.

  For one thing, our house was no longer our home. Usse had been wounded when the druids came looking for Paul a year ago. He’d taken the children and fled, intending to take shelter with Ptolemy, who was living in Alexandria, having decided to make her the Capital. The king took the children and Usse into his court. Usse had a certain reputation as a doctor, and Ptolemy insisted he stay with him. Usse would have preferred to remain at home and work at the new hospital, which is what he had been doing. However, Ptolemy was persuasive. And besides, in those days you didn’t say ‘no’ to a king.

  Chirpa and Usse now lived in Ptolemy’s palace with Brazza, who took care of Chiron and Cleopatra. Then Ptolemy had formally betrothed Cleopatra to his son. It was an interesting political move. Ptolemy didn’t proclaim Cleopatra as Alexander’s daughter. By promising his son to a nobody, Ptolemy was saying, ‘I ally myself with no one, my kingdom suffices unto itself’. He was also covering his bases with his gods. Outsiders beware. However, for Ptolemy to be truly considered god-king, Alexander had to be dead. We would not be able to live in Alexandria. It was another keen sorrow for Alexander, who loved his first city. It was also a terrible chagrin for me; I’d loved our home on the hillside.

  Ptolemy received us in secret. We filed into his chambers, hot, tired, and weary from three weeks at sea. He met our boat with a special guard and they escorted us straight to the palace. Alexander, Plexis, and I stood in front of Ptolemy, and I don’t know who was angriest with him.

  Alexander, because he’d taken over his beloved city and sent bad news by mail, Plexis, because he had made Usse his personal physician. Or me, because my children and Brazza were nowhere in sight, and I was dying to pee.

  I was too dispirited and pregnant to think about scaring Ptolemy with a good goddess act. Those types of things take energy and a nice nosebleed. Instead I stood, head high and as haughty as I could manage, hoping that the robe I was wearing was clean, and wondering where I could pee. In that potted palm, or over there, in the corner; was that a potty or a spittoon?

  I crossed my legs, gritted my teeth, and waited for Ptolemy to finish speaking to Alexander. They were talking quietly together. Plexis stood a little to the side and every now and then he’d interrupt. He had no fear of Ptolemy, and I sensed exasperation beneath the surface of his calm. Alexander appeared dejected. He had no energy. His shoulders slumped. I wanted Usse to come so that he could treat Alexander for his melancholy.

  I sighed and peered at the pot in the corner. It was starting to look more and more like a toilet.

  Finally, the meeting seemed over. Ptolemy had said his piece. Alexander had muttered something I didn’t quite catch, and Plexis had started to say something. Then he had clenched his jaw and had taken my arm and led me to the antechamber where Axiom and Paul were waiting.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said. He wasn’t cold or angry with me; he was polite, as if we were strangers. I waited until he closed the door behind him. Then my face crumpled. I sat down on a very intricately carved bench and I said to Axiom, ‘If you don’t find me a chamber pot in three seconds I’m going to pee right on this chair.’

  He gaped at me. Then he grabbed the large bowl of nuts on the table, tossed them to the ground, and put the bowl at my feet. ‘Be my guest,’ he said.

  Axiom was kind enough to call a slave to empty the bowl before anyone came back in the anteroom and saw it. The slave also picked up the nuts, which was a pity, because I was really hoping Ptolemy would stride into the room, step on the nuts, and take a spectacular fall.

  He didn’t come into the room though. Plexis and Alexander came back looking exhausted. Plexis said to me kindly, ‘Don’t worry, the children are with Brazza. We’ll see them tomorrow.’

  I didn’t protest. I was used to the convoluted protocol that surrounded every one of Ptolemy’s moves. He’d always been enigmatic, and now he was king. Tomorrow I would see the children. I knew they were safe. Ptolemy’s word was sacred.

  We went to the villa on the hillside, which had not been lived in for nearly a year. The pool was green and scummy, the fountain dry. Food had spoiled in the pantry, and rats had gnawed on the precious wooden furniture. Dust lay thick on the tabletops, the counterpanes were frayed by the wind, and thieves had forced a window open and made off with anything that could be carried away.

  We stared in dismay, wandering through the echoing, empty rooms. Axiom was the first to react. He took coins from Alexander’s box and left the villa. He was going to get some food, I assumed. I sighed, picked up a broom, and started to sweep the kitchen.

  While I picked up the mess, I asked Paul to find himself a bedroom and fix it up.

  ‘What do you mean, “fix it up”?’ he asked.<
br />
  ‘Find sheets, make your bed, open a window and air out the room. I don’t know; use your imagination. We’ll have to do it quickly, it’s already late afternoon and the nights are cool,’ I said snappishly. Then I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. If you could find a broom somewhere and start to sweep the rooms, that would be helpful.’

  Paul looked undecided, but then left me alone. I opened the grain bin and squeaked as a mouse skittered across it. Well, let that alone for now, I decided. The dishes were gone, the thieves had taken them, and what they didn’t take they had smashed. I carefully picked up shards of pottery and put everything in an old keg. The fireplace was full of ashes; I swept it out and lugged the ashes outside. Then I took some wood and made a little fire in the kitchen to keep me company and to cook dinner. I did everything one-handed, and I didn’t do too badly. I had become good at using my ivory hand for levering and carrying things. I could manoeuvre quite well, actually. I started to get a nice feeling of self-satisfaction.

  I cleaned out the pantry, figuring Axiom would appreciate somewhere to put the food. Then I attacked the stone counters. They needed dusting and cleaning, so I went to the well and hauled a bucket of water to the top.

  Of course, that’s when I lost my own waters. They broke, soaking my robe. I stood there in shock, the bucket in my hands. ‘Oh, please, tell me it’s a dream,’ I begged, to nobody in particular. Plexis and Alexander were somewhere in the house. I hadn’t seen them since we’d arrived, and frankly, I hadn’t wanted to. They had been distant to me, acting as if I were a shadow. I knew it was simply their grief, but it frightened me. I’d grown too accustomed to being beloved.

  With that thought, my mouth twisted. During my depressing childhood, I’d been totally ignored. It had made me wary of emotions such as love and passion. Alexander had tamed me. He’d made me open my heart. Sometimes I felt raw, as if I were being whipped by things I’d never dealt with before – like sorrow or joy. It hurt, but it was proof that I could feel something. Now he was ignoring me, something he’d never done. And it was the worst feeling I’d ever had.

  No, actually I was wrong. A searing contraction left me clinging to the side of the well. It was so sudden I had no time to prepare for it. I screamed. No, thatwas the worst feeling I’d ever had. It made the time Roxanne tried to poison me feel like a slight stomach ache.

  The cramps faded as abruptly as they’d come. I pried my fingers from the stone and wiped my forehead with a shaky hand. I’d better start boiling water. And I’d better tell my husband and Plexis what was happening.

  I carried the bucket to the house and poured it into a large kettle that the thieves had found too heavy to carry away. The kettle was attached to a chain that went over a pulley, which hoisted it over the fire without any effort. I set the water on to boil and went in search of clean sheets. If I knew anything about having babies, it was that the process tended to be long, sometimes painful, and always messy.

  ‘What do you mean the baby’s coming?’ Alexander raised his head, a blank look on his face. He was sitting behind a massive desk – another thing too big to carry away – and he’d been studying a parchment. His face was half in deep shadow, half in light. It made him look mysterious.

  ‘I mean, the baby is coming. I’m in labour, if you prefer it that way.’ I bit my lip as a cramp twisted through me. I didn’t like the feel of that pain, it seemed much too far back. Not like a contraction should feel. A tiny stab of worry made me frown. I had been concentrating on my body, so I didn’t even notice when Alexander stood and came to my side. In a moment, he changed. From indifference to panic, I think, would describe it best.

  ‘Plexis! Axiom!’ His voice was high.

  ‘Axiom left an hour or so ago, I think he went to the city for some food,’ I said helpfully, trying to pull Alexander’s hand off my arm. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Sorry!’ He let go and stepped back. Then he grabbed me again and bellowed for Plexis. ‘It’s too early,’ he cried.

  ‘I hope not,’ I said.

  Plexis came into the room. He was naked, his hair wet from the bath. He saw me.

  I was watching his face closely, holding my breath. He looked at Alexander, then at me, and his face tightened. It was fear; at least I hope it was fear. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  I managed a weak grin. ‘Don’t worry, but please, go get Usse. I want him with me. Please?’ I couldn’t see his face any more; tears were blinding me. I didn’t stop grinning though. I was so afraid that he would speak to me in that polite tone of voice again.

  He didn’t say anything, but that was fine. He came to me and he kissed me tenderly. ‘I’m going to fetch Usse, and Chirpa, and Brazza, and the children. I promise, I’ll bring them all back here.’ His voice broke.

  ‘First get dressed, and then get Usse!’ Alexander tossed him a cloak and pushed him out the door. I stood in a small patch of yellow sunlight and felt its warmth for the first time in three weeks.

  Paul had managed to find some sheets and I picked out a bed. It wasn’t easy. I insisted on walking through the bedrooms and inspecting them. One had a broken window; that would never do. One was too cold and another too hot. One was too dark. I tried to explain to Alexander that it was important I felt good in a room, because I felt awful just then. The contractions were deep, tearing things that made me gasp. I wanted to walk as much as I could, letting gravity help the labour. When the pain was too sharp, I leaned against Alexander. He held me tightly. His hands were shaking almost as much as mine were. I think we both knew the labour was going to be hard. I was worried, but didn’t want to think about it. The baby was coming, and that’s what mattered.

  We finally settled on what had been Plexis’ room – a large, airy chamber adjacent to the kitchen and garden. Alexander left me alone long enough to sprint to the neighbour’s house and beg for some honey, salt, and wine.

  The honey was useful. At that time it was used as a balm, a sweetener, an antibiotic, for marinating, and for embalming, even. The salt was to put in boiling water, and to use as an antiseptic. The wine was to wash the baby, and to drink, of course.

  I sat on the bed and tried to count the minutes between contractions. They seemed to have no pattern, coming at irregular intervals. When they did come, they were horrible. I felt wrung out and weak afterwards, trembling with nerves and pain. Alexander was white-faced and even more upset than I was.

  ‘As soon as Axiom returns, why don’t you go to the harbour and get my belongings from Phaleria’s boat?’ I said gently. ‘Axiom should be back any minute now, and Plexis won’t be too long. Take Paul with you and leave him there, please?’

  He looked at me, his eyes huge. ‘Is it going that badly?’ he asked, his voice husky with fear.

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said, trying to put some certitude into my words. ‘I’ll be fine, as soon as Usse comes. But I don’t want Paul to hear me if I scream.’

  ‘He was with you on the boat,’ he said. ‘You hardly cried aloud then.’

  ‘Every birth is different,’ I said. ‘He was younger too, and less impressionable. The house is too big and empty; he’ll be frightened. I want to be able to relax and only think about myself for a while. Please? I know I’m being selfish, but it can’t be helped.’

  Alexander took my hand in his. ‘I want to apologize for these past weeks. I don’t know what happened to me. Something within me changed, and I was helpless to prevent it.’

  The tone of his voice told me nothing. ‘Do you still care for me?’ I whispered, staring at my hand.

  His surprise was almost comic. ‘Did you ever doubt it?’ he asked.

  I blinked, and tears slid down my cheeks. ‘You know I did,’ I said sadly.

  ‘You’re right. I did know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You wanted to punish me, somehow. But I’m not responsible for what happened. And I’m not your mother.’

  His hand tightened on mine. He started to say something, then thought bett
er of it. Instead, he kissed me. It was more appropriate than anything he could have said to me. It almost took my mind off my cramps. He waited until Axiom returned, then he left, taking Paul and swearing he’d be back as soon as possible.

  When I could, I got up and walked around the room, leaning on the windowsill to gaze at the last of the sunset. Axiom stored the food away, finished cleaning the kitchen, and took over boiling water and finding clean sheets for me. He was relieved when I told him Plexis had gone to fetch Usse.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked me.

  ‘If it’s the tea that Vix made, I’d love some,’ I said, wincing as a cramp hit again. Vix knew how to brew a potion that would take most suffering away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for childbirth pain. The contraction came in a wave this time, cresting right over and submerging me. Axiom held onto my shoulders. He was strong, but I missed Alexander’s strength and I needed Usse’s help.

  The sky was orange and the shadows were deep when Usse came to the house.

  I burst into tears and flung my arms around him. He held me, then backed away to get a good look at me.

  ‘How is it going?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Not good. The baby hadn’t descended when the pains started.’

  He glanced at Plexis. ‘I’ll need my medical supplies,’ he said. ‘Will you get them for me? I left them in the atrium.’

  Plexis acquiesced, but before he left, he kissed me again.

  Usse helped me lie down. Then he examined me, his face a study in concentration. While he probed and prodded, he asked questions about our voyage, and I was glad to answer, to keep my mind off the labour. He looked at my missing hand. I told him how I’d lost it. He admired the work Demos had done. His face was drawn, though, and his eyes sorrowful.

  Finally he sat back and said, ‘The babe is head down, but facing backwards.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  ‘It means that it will take longer. But the baby’s head is engaged in the birth passage, so we must be patient.’ Usse wiped his hands on a clean towel. Then he moved the low stool near my pillow. ‘It means we have more time to talk,’ he said, with a smile.