‘Speaking of rescue,’ said Usse. ‘Ashley and I know that while Ptolemy is trying to pass himself off as a god-king, he can’t allow to Alexander to live.’
Alexander looked startled, then his face settled in grim lines. ‘I had thought of that,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to convince him I never want to rule again.’
‘Ashley has a plan,’ said Usse.
‘Oh, no. Famous last words,’ said Plexis. ‘The last time Ashley planned something, we saved a boy from sacrifice, set fire to the sea, and got chased by Carthage’s navy.’
‘I don’t know why you’re complaining,’ said Alexander. ‘I’m the one that nearly got killed. What could possibly be worse?’
Usse coughed. ‘This time, you have to die,’ he said.
After that discussion, things moved quickly. We put our plan into action right away. Demos and Phaleria left the house with their son. They wanted to ready the boat. Yovanix and the crew had been staying there, but Demos needed to buy supplies and Phaleria wanted to make sure the dragon boat was seaworthy.
We packed what we needed, then sent word to Ptolemy that Alexander had contracted a fever. Usse had left supplies at the palace, so he wrote asking Ptolemy to send them quickly. When Ptolemy sent his messenger to us, Alexander feigned illness. We carried him to the atrium on a litter, and made sure that the messenger saw he was seriously ill. Then, a few days later, we sent Ptolemy news of Alexander’s death. Knowing that the king would not believe the news, Usse and Vix concocted a potion that made it appear as if Alexander were dead. We wrapped ourselves in mourning cloaks and cut off our hair.
Axiom and I stripped Alexander and washed him in an herbal bath that gave his skin a curious grey-green cast. With my makeup, I made deep shadows around his eyes and mouth. He looked so horrible Chiron burst into tears when he saw him. Then Alexander stretched out on a litter while we sewed him into a linen shroud.
‘We’re just going to sew it closed to your waist. Ptolemy has to be able to see that it’s you. After, we’ll close it all the way.’ Axiom tied a knot in his thread and frowned. ‘Don’t move, you’ll rip the stitches.’
‘I hate not being able to move about,’ Alexander complained, trying to get comfortable on the narrow litter. ‘This shroud is scratchy.’
I patted his hand. ‘It won’t be for long. The worst part is going to be drinking Usse’s potion, not getting wrapped in a linen shroud.’
‘Promise me you won’t be too sad. You only have to mourn for a few years – then maybe you can remarry, that is, if you can find someone who could ever replace me.’
‘Ha, ha.’ I stuck my tongue at him. ‘I think it must be time to drink now. Ptolemy will arrive soon, and you have to be unconscious.’
‘You weren’t joking,’ he said, gasping as he drank the bitter liquid. ‘It tastes like camel piss!’
‘As if you ever drank that,’ I said. I waited until his eyelids closed, then went to get Usse. ‘He’s asleep. I have to go get dressed and get everyone into position. Are you sure he’ll be all right? He looked deathly,’ I said, worried in spite of my confidence in Usse.
‘He will appear as if dead, but don’t worry.’ Usse glanced out the window. ‘The sun sets. I will tell Axiom to ready the funeral pyre.’
‘Will Ptolemy wonder at the haste?’ I asked. ‘Will he suspect trickery?’
Usse shook his head. ‘No, it is hot out, and bodies will spoil quickly in the heat. Also, I think he will be too relieved to be rid of Alexander to question anything. When someone wishes something, it is easier for him to believe his wish has come to pass.’
I shuddered, but everything went as planned.
Ptolemy came to the funeral. He examined Alexander before we sewed him in the shroud, touching his face and his chest, but Usse’s potion had done its work and Alexander was cold and still. Ptolemy also insisted that he help place Alexander’s body onto the funeral pyre. Usse had been ready for that as well. In a trick worthy of a great magician, he swapped bodies. Remembering what Olympias and Sis had done, I rubbed ashes all over myself and threw myself on the ground, then I tore at my clothes, bared my breasts, and writhed and wailed, distracting Ptolemy so that Demos and Vix could lift Alexander off the pyre and hoist the cadaver Usse had taken from the hospital morgue onto the oil-soaked wood. It was done in a moment.
When I saw Axiom raise the torch, I stopped and made as if to throw myself on the funeral pyre. ‘Not without me!’ I screamed.
‘No! Please!’ Paul and Chiron grabbed my arms. We had rehearsed for the show, and the boys didn’t forget their lines.
‘Please, Mother, stay with us,’ Paul wailed. ‘Without Father, we need you! Who will take us to the Sacred Valley of Nysa if you die too?’
Chiron, already overwrought and emotional, burst into hysterical sobs. ‘No, Mother, no! I won’t let you. If you die, I will too. We’ll all go with Father!’
I pretended to swoon, and Plexis carried me into the house and lay me on a couch near the open window so we could see the proceedings. Paul and Chiron stood in front of the fire, watching as the corpse burned.
We needed to distract Ptolemy. ‘Oh, Plexis, what would I do without you?’ I said loudly. Ptolemy turned and saw Plexis soothing me with a passionate kiss – from his raised eyebrows I could tell he hadn’t imagined how close we were. And then Rahima managed to drop another vase, this one full of flowers and water, so that it smashed on the floor. Chirpa made a great fuss about that. What really captured Ptolemy’s attention, though, was Nearchus stalking about wailing, his hair cut short and ashes smeared on his face. With all the goings-on, Ptolemy never noticed the strange pile of sheets and laundry Usse transported in the handcart as he quickly removed Alexander from the courtyard.
‘I’m sorry I ever thought Nearchus was a bad actor,’ I murmured into Plexis’s ear.
Plexis caught Ptolemy staring at us and he faked a huge sob. ‘I don’t think I can live without him,’ he cried, burying his face in my bosom. ‘Let me comfort you some more, Ashley. You look distraught.’
‘If you don’t stop fondling me, Ptolemy is going to call for wedding banns.’ I slapped his hand away. ‘And the children are right outside.’
‘Can’t help it. You make the most ravishing widow,’ he chuckled.
‘If you blow this, Ptolemy will make sure I am areal widow,’ I said sternly.
‘The fire will last all night. How are we going to keep this up?’ Plexis sighed and got to his feet. Let us start the funeral feast. Maybe we can get Ptolemy so drunk he’ll fall asleep, then we can all get some rest.’
The feast went smoothly – except for Rahima, who was not meant to be a serving girl. Finally, Chirpa sent her to the kitchen to help clean the dishes. We winced whenever we heard another dish breaking.
After the funeral feast, and after the fire had died down, Ptolemy took the ashes and had them interred in a massive tomb he’d built near his palace.
We left Alexandria right after the funeral. The most bitter part of the bargain was that I had to leave Cleopatra behind. Ptolemy believed Alexander was dead, and he thought I was returning to the Sacred Valley in Nysa. He didn’t trust me to bring Cleopatra back. Brazza stayed with her, and Usse and Chirpa. I knew she’d be surrounded by people who loved her, but I was shattered with grief.
‘We will be back,’ Alexander said, embracing me. ‘We will visit whenever we can.’
‘I know. And she will be happy. But Alex, I’m so sad. I can’t believe we’re leaving her behind.’
‘And Usse and Chirpa and Brazza. She will stay in the house on the hill, and she will have a wonderful childhood,’ said Alex. ‘Just think, she will have a normal life!’
I laughed then, and let him kiss my tears away.
My life had been one long voyage – through time, and now, across the known world. But Alexander was with me. And so was Plexis, and my sons, and my friends. My heartache would ease. As the boat slipped through the green water, I looked at the man who would become a legend, and he smile
d at me.
After Egypt, we travelled throughout the kingdom, going to Athens, Rhodes, Tyre, and Iberia. We never went back to India, although Alexander often dreamed of that, and we never ventured to Macedonia or Babylon – because of the war, and the ghosts. Alexander never spoke of them, but he was haunted all his life. The ghost of his father was the most terrifying, but the shades of his mother, wives, and children would often wake him in the middle of the night, and he would light a lantern and sit until dawn.
Mostly, we travelled with Demos and Phaleria. The dragon boat was swift, and we were glad to sail with good friends.
We did go back to Rome. Chiron, who was fascinated by Rome and all things Roman, lived there for many years with Scipio’s family. He married a Roman woman and they had four children. We went often to visit, and no one ever recognized Alexander. We made the trip to the great north a few times, even staying one whole winter. Alexander was always invigorated by the cold, while Plexis shivered and complained. Paul chose to live there. His children sailed the seas on dragon boats, and luckily, none of them seemed to inherit Alexander’s seasickness.
Yovanix voyaged with us for a while, then married a girl he met in Britain, where he settled and lived out his long life. We spent a few years there with him, and we met Myrddin again.
Atlas, the tallest and gentlest of my children, stayed with us until he married. Then, with his Celtic wife Mara, he left towards India. The stories he’d heard about the Sacred Valley of Nysa and India had always fascinated him. He wrote us hundreds of letters, for he loved mail almost as much as Alexander. He even travelled to China, and part of his family settled in the land of the Moguls. His letters were always a cause for celebration.
After Alexander saved Nearchus from the salt mines, he stayed with us while he recovered his health. Then his wanderlust took hold again, and he made a three-year voyage around the coast of Africa. He was the second man in history to make the journey. He published his notes and the book was a great success, one of the most popular ones in the great library in Alexandria. After, he went back to Crete. We heard from him for a few years, but then the letters stopped.
When the children were settled, we decided to go south. Alexander wanted to visit Africa. Nearchus had whetted his appetite with his fabulous stories. Therefore, we sailed down the Nile to the land of the Nubians, where Plexis was thrilled to see herds of striped horses, and Alexander cried with joy to see wild elephants.
Brazza stayed with his beloved Cleopatra. She grew up in the house on the hill and had a wonderful childhood. She was in love with Ptolemy’s son, and her marriage was, on the whole, a happy one. However, she had to misfortune to lose two of her five children – her son to war, and her beloved daughter to an accident. But her eldest son would become Pharaoh, and so would his son, and so on, and so forth, until their dynasty ended with another Cleopatra, her great, great, ever so great-granddaughter, who fell in love with Mark Anthony.
I never told her the rest of the story. I only told her the first part, the part where she falls in love, and lives happily ever after. Some stories should never end, and I am well placed to know that.
There are several tombs purported to be of Alexander the Great. Only I know the real one. I will tell you this much; it is a simple tomb carved in stone. Inside are the relics of a legend. There is a gold cup in the shape of a winged lion, and a large round shield, supposedly magic, which once belonged to the great hero, Achilles. There is a long braid of pale hair, and many well-read letters in an ebony box, for he loved mail, and there is an ancient scroll that, when carefully unrolled, reveals a copy of The Iliad.
He was never without it. He was afraid of the dark, so I put a lamp in his tomb to chase away the shadows. He was buried alone, since he died before any of us. He was our sun, our god, and the reason we lived. Without him, the world appeared much darker, and smaller, somehow.
Before he died, we chose a place to settle. It is an enchanted land, pristine and tranquil. The Greeks call this land Aethiopia1, and claim that the gods give great banquets here. They must be right. If there were anywhere on earth a god would go to have a banquet, it would be here.
Plexis, Axiom, and I live there now. We live near the coast, so mail comes regularly. We wait impatiently for news from the children. Our house is large, airy, and overlooks a silver lake. In the evenings, the animals go to the shore to drink. We sit on our veranda and watch as lions, zebras, cheetahs, and giraffes stride out of the dusk.
Plexis and I are together, and I am glad to have him near me. His quick wit, wry humour, and enthusiasm have never dimmed. When we lost Alexander, the bright sun set on our lives, but we live in a warm glow. We still hold hands at night beneath the gauzy mosquito netting. Our bodies still speak the silent language of love, and I need him so.
The sun is setting now. Soon, shadows will reach into the room and cool it for the evening. I smell woodsmoke; the cook has started dinner. In a moment, I will light the oil lamp, the blue glass one that swings gently from the ceiling. Beneath my feet, the Persian rug is soft and its colours are still jewel-like.
I hear Plexis laughing. He and Axiom are sharing some joke, or perhaps they are re-reading Paul’s letter where he describes the way his son caught a salmon with his bare hands. Plexis will call for me soon; we always sit outside in the evening and watch the lions come to the edge of the lake to drink.
Now and then, I glance in the mirror. I have grown vain in my old age. Perhaps it is because Plexis hasn’t lost his good looks. His hair is still dark, and his body is still straight and slim. I always had pale hair, though now it is white and short. I cut it off when Alexander died, and found it more practical to care for. Around my neck is the moonstone he gave me so long ago in Persepolis.
Alexander! The name is a whisper in the room, merging with the shadows and the cool, blue light cast by the lamp. There is still an echo of him; an echo that lasted for three thousand years. Sometimes I can almost feel him standing next to me.
I’m not afraid to die. In a way, I almost look forward to it. For one thing, I shall be buried next to Alexander, and there is a place for Plexis, and for Axiom in the tomb as well. We even joke about it. For you see, how can I be afraid of death? In three thousand years, I will be born again. I will win a prestigious award and be chosen to interview a legend. In three thousand years, I will return to Alexander, and the story will go on. The story will never end. I am looking forward to meeting Alexander again.
1 “Where south inclines westwards, the part of the world stretching farthest towards the sunset is Aethiopia (Ethiopia); this produces gold in abundance, and huge elephants, and all sorts of wild trees, and ebony, and the tallest and handsomest and longest-lived people.” Herodotus, The Histories, (525 BC) English translation by A. D. Godley. Harvard University Press. 1920.
About the Author
Jennifer Macaire is an American living in France.
She likes to read, eat chocolate, and plays a mean game of golf. She grew up in upstate New York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. She graduated from St Peter and Paul High School in St Thomas and moved to NYC where she modelled for five years for Elite. She went to France and met her husband at the polo club.
All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories.
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2019
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Copyright © Jennifer Macaire 2019
The right of Jennifer Macaire to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any mea
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ISBN 9781786154583
eISBN 9781786154552
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