Then the swineherd told Demeter what he’d seen, and she immediately guessed what had happened. Furious, she stormed to Olympus and told Zeus that if he didn’t fetch Persephone she would let the earth starve – as goddess of the harvest she could. When Zeus asked, Hades refused to free his new queen. Demeter mourned her daughter. Winter came, the earth turned barren, the plants didn’t grow, and Demeter crossed her arms and waited.
Hades finally relented and set Persephone free, but as she ran joyfully up towards the surface of the earth, a dry laugh stopped her. It was Hades’ gardener. In his hand was a half-eaten pomegranate. Persephone had nibbled the seeds one day as she wandered sadly through the darkness. According to the rules of the gods, she had to stay with Hades, since she had tasted the food of the dead.
Zeus decided otherwise. She had only eaten six seeds, so she would spend six months a year with Hades. Ever since, winter comes, and the earth lies fallow for six months. After, she rejoins her mother, and Demeter’s joy brings spring to the world.
My part in the funeral ceremony was brief. I begged my husband, Hades, to listen to me. The men we were sending him had been mighty warriors who deserved to live forever in the sunny meadow reserved for heroes.
Then I drank some wine and waved my arms gracefully, spoke a few words in English, and everyone was happy. Hades, they reasoned, was still in love with me and would listen to my pleas. The fact that Alexander had kidnapped me meant he would be punished once he was dead, but everyone knew Hades couldn’t do anything to the living.
I drank the wine and bowed deeply. It was a hot day and the ceremonial wine was cool and fresh. I was about to drink more, when the wooden platform I stood on slewed sideways, spilling me, the wine, and the ten priests who were standing with me, onto the ground.
It wasn’t a big fall, I landed on soft dirt, which saved me from any bruises. The platform had fallen because of soldiers leaning against it. Alexander rushed over shouting and moving everyone, making sure no one had been hurt. Everyone was laughing and shouting at the Egyptian engineer who had built the platform. The poor fellow knelt and banged his head on the ground until Alexander told him to stop.
He got to me last. I was already on my feet, and I was laughing at the silly monkey who’d latched onto the wineskin and was drinking from it, exactly like a little man.
Alexander sighed in annoyance and snatched the wineskin from the monkey. He held it upside down and two drops fell out. It was empty. The monkey looked up at us and hiccupped. Then he got to his feet and staggered around, his tail jerking up and down as he tried to find his balance. He sat down suddenly, a comic expression on his little face, then he keeled over. Dead drunk. We all burst out laughing.
Alexander nudged the monkey with his foot. The animal didn’t budge. He didn’t even blink his eyes. Odd. His eyes were wide open.
I stopped giggling as cold realization washed over me. Not dead drunk. Just dead. My knees gave away and I sat heavily on the ground.
Alexander looked at the monkey and then back at me. All the colour drained from his face. His pupils grew huge. He whirled around and grabbed a soldier. ‘Get Usse. Tell him to come to my tent. Hurry, man!’ The soldier left running. Alexander picked me up and ran to the tent.
When he put me down, I was amazed to see that my legs wouldn’t hold me. An icy trickle ran through me veins. I shivered despite the heat. I had been poisoned. That was the only thought that was coherent to me. Poison. I was going to die.
Poisons in those days were powerful, deadly weapons. When you were poisoned you died unless you were treated immediately by someone who knew what to do. Even then you usually perished, writhing in great agony.
Usse knew what to do, and it wasn’t pleasant. He made me drink a horrible mixture, and I vomited for what seemed like hours.
Time went weird, seeming to stretch into infinity. Sounds were long, drawn-out moans. I couldn’t understand what people were saying. My stomach heaved and heaved. Usse held my head and Alexander paced back and forth, imploring the gods, or whatever, to spare me. Plexis came running. He grabbed Alexander and shook him. Alexander was as white as chalk. I was green. When nothing was left in my stomach, Usse ground up some charcoal, mixed it with honey, and poured it down my throat. That came right back up, but he kept making more and giving it to me. I couldn’t move my arms, my hands were frozen. I started to shake. There was a lull while Usse searched through his medicine chest for something. I lay on the ground. Nothing seemed to matter any more. There was a hideous pain in my stomach, and I thought I’d feel much better after I was dead. Anything was better than this. My head was splitting, and I saw white spots each time I opened my eyes.
Usse came back and prised my mouth open. I thought I had tasted the worst, but no, this was the worst. I struggled and choked, but he had a funnel. Then he sat and held me, with his arms wrapped tightly around my head and chest, keeping me sitting upright. His hands were wiry and strong. One was cupped around my jaw, keeping it shut. The other stroked my throat, as if I were a cat, and I felt the pain start to ebb.
When I could move my hands and legs, he let go. I managed to stay in a sitting position for a few seconds before slumping to the ground. Usse picked me up and carried me to my bed.
I felt as if I’d gone fifteen rounds with a bulldozer. My muscles screamed, and my stomach told me, in no uncertain terms what it thought about the whole proceeding.
I couldn’t talk for three days. My throat was raw. Not that I wanted to talk. I wanted to sleep. I woke up briefly to crawl to the chamber pot or to drink water. Otherwise I slept. Axiom and Brazza took care of Chiron, and Usse watched over me like a dark angel, his narrow face tight with worry.
Alexander tried to find out who had put poison in the wineskin, but of course, it was impossible. The wineskin was the one I always used for the ceremonies. It was kept in our tent, but it had been taken to the supply tent to be filled. There it had lain unguarded for half a day. Anyone could have taken it.
However, a few days later, one of Roxanne’s ladies-in-waiting disappeared. A fisherman found her body downriver and brought it back to camp. I didn’t think anything about it, until one evening, when Alexander was gone, Roxanne arrived in my tent unannounced. ‘I have come to tell you what my oracle said,’ she proclaimed. I was in the tent with Chiron. Axiom had gone to get dinner and Brazza was at the baths. Lysimachus was nowhere to be seen, so I was alone with the mad princess. I’d long ago decided she was crazy.
‘My oracle said that my lady-in-waiting, Orianne, put poison in your wine and Demeter, your mother, struck her down as she went to bathe in the river.’ Her voice was toneless, as if she were telling me it looked like rain.
‘Was this the girl the fisherman found? How do you know it was my mother’s doing?’ I asked.
‘She called a great crocodile to seize Orianne and drag her into the water to drown.’ Roxanne shrugged. ‘I have heard that the crocodile god is one of your protectors,’ she added seriously.
I knew where she had heard that. Our mutual mother-in-law, the divine Olympias – may she rot in Hades. ‘I’m sorry that your lady-in-waiting died,’ I told her. I wasn’t sure what else she wanted me to say. Her pale eyes darted over my face, then around the tent. ‘Can I get you anything?’ I asked her.
‘I’d like a drink,’ she said. She sat on the rug and stared at me. Her face was without any expression. I would have thought she was pretty, but she frightened me.
‘Certainly.’ I poured a cup of watered wine and gave it to her. She sipped it politely then set it down on the table. She looked around.
‘It’s very peaceful in your tent. Does Iskander hate noise so much?’
‘No, he doesn’t hate noise but he likes quiet. So do I.’ I didn’t know whether I should stand or sit. Finally I sat, but not too close to her.
‘Where did you grow up? In which country? Was your father a great king? Or is it true what they say, that you are the goddess Persephone?’ She leaned towards me as sh
e spoke. Some people, I noticed, have no sense of personal space. Roxanne was one of them. She always wanted to get too close to me, which made me jumpy.
‘I grew up in a country far from Persia, nearer to Macedonia. My father was a powerful man and very old when I was born. My name is Ashley, not Persephone, and I am mortal and not very exciting, I’m afraid.’
She smiled. ‘My father said you were quite exciting.’
My teeth drew blood from my lip. Her father had raped me in the temple of Anahita. I lowered my eyes, afraid she would see the murderous thoughts running through my head. ‘Don’t you miss your family?’ I managed to ask in a voice that sounded almost normal.
‘My family? No. I miss my palace and the temple. I’d been a priestess there since I turned thirteen. I am looking forward to going to Babylon. Iskander said it will be the seat of his new government. Are you happy to go there too?’ She took a lock of her long hair in her mouth and sucked on it.
‘I’ve been there before,’ I said shortly.
‘Oh, how lucky you are! I forgot how much you’ve travelled. So tell me, how was the sacred valley of Nysa? I heard many things about it from the soldiers who accompanied you. They told me of a child. The Child of the Moon. Is it true he is Iskander’s child?’
I looked at Roxanne. Her expression was bland, but I didn’t trust her. She received letters from Olympias. Instead I said, ‘I never told you how sorry I was that your son died. I hope you will forgive me.’
Her expression didn’t change. ‘How sweet. Thank you. I am sorry too. He was my firstborn. But I will have more.’
‘I’m sure of that,’ I said.
‘The oracle told me I would have another son very soon. I will call him Alexander. Now, why don’t you answer my question? Is it true you have a son in Nysa?’
I frowned. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because Olympias writes to me that she longs to see her grandchildren, and she wonders if you will bring the Son of the Moon to Babylon.’ She took the lock of hair out of her mouth and gnawed on a cuticle.
‘No. He must stay in the sacred valley.’
‘How curious. My oracle made no mention of that. Well, it was lovely speaking to you.’ She got to her feet with a strange, jerky motion and bowed to me. Then she backed out of the tent, bowing constantly. When she was gone, I heaved a sigh. I was shaking. I had no idea what she was up to, but for the first time I was grateful that Paul wasn’t with me.
Chapter Twenty-One
We sailed down the river, the army following along on the banks. Alexander was nervous. The tribes around us were hostile, hardly a day went by that one or two scouts didn’t get shot at or killed by an arrow.
Arrows were my nightmare. I hated them. Because of some silly misunderstanding, all the arrow wounds were sent to me. The soldiers thought I worked miracles. I had simply taken off a soldier’s armour one day. He had thought he was wounded, but the arrow was stuck in the leather. It fell onto the floor; the man didn’t have a scratch.
Two days after Alexander’s fight in a place called Tulambi, someone galloped over to the riverside and yelled my name. I poked my head out of the galley, and saw a man on his horse holding another man across his lap. I could see the arrow sticking out of his chest. I clambered into a dinghy to be rowed ashore. Meanwhile, I sent word to Usse to come and help me. I had no special powers concerning arrows.
The man riding the horse was Plexis, the arrow was stuck in one of his soldiers. The man, a scout, had somehow managed to make it back to the main army before collapsing.
Usse and I put him on a table and looked at each other. Usse hated arrows as much as I did. This one looked dreadful. It was stuck in the man’s breast, to the right of his sternum, just underneath his clavicle. Usse prepared a poultice, and then, muttering a prayer, he used a copper separator to open the wound and yanked the arrow out. The man screamed and fainted.
I had been trying to grow penicillin. All my moulds were kept in glass jars. In the heat of India, I had managed to get some spectacular examples. Now Usse raised his eyebrows at me and pointed to a lovely blue-green mould. We decided to try it. The man’s wound was deep. The arrow had somehow missed major arteries and Usse hoped the lung had been spared. We packed some mould into the poultice and bandaged everything tightly. A wound like that, in the heat and humidity, would certainly fester. If it did, the man would die within three or four days.
We moved him onto the boat with us. We fixed up a hammock and slung it in the shade. He was still alive the next morning but terribly weak and could hardly drink the broth Axiom made for him.
That evening, Alexander made the decision to attack a large, fortified town to the south where the scout had been ambushed. For Alexander, an arrow was as good as a declaration of war. Early the next morning, he and his troops set off at a gallop across the plains.
Nearchus would sail down river and meet the army that evening. Alexander was blithely confident. The city was fortified, but not large. There didn’t seem to be much of an army defending it, so he thought he’d go, put the fear of ‘Sikander’ into them, and continue his route unhindered. What he feared the most was an attack from behind, so he preferred to make sure the enemy was vanquished before moving on.
I watched the army moving off. Then we sailed down river and camped at a bend. I decided to go ashore and left Chiron with Brazza and Kalanos. Axiom was getting supplies, and Nearchus had gone to do whatever admirals have to do when nearly two thousand boats all arrive somewhere at once.
I was nervous. The weather that day seemed odd. There was no wind, and the sun burned in the sky. The air felt heavy with electricity. Some people can feel storms coming – I was one of them. My head hurt and my eyes stung. Prickles ran up and down my arms, and there was an ache between my shoulder blades. The storm would hit that night. I went to find Nearchus to tell him. Luckily, he listened to me.
Everyone believed me. They figured goddesses knew things. Nearchus told me to go tell Craterus, and I did, bouncing across the boat-bridge, cheerful despite the strange heat and despite Alexander’s absence. He’d be back soon, full of the energy that the battles gave him, hectic and nervous. Then he’d talk all night until the shock wore off. We’d make love, and he’d fall asleep. I walked along the river bank looking for Craterus, thinking about Alexander, and worrying about the coming storm.
Craterus listened to my prophecy about the ‘tempest’ – that’s what he called it. I just told him he might want to get ready for a big rain. During the monsoon season we thought we’d seen everything, although I hadn’t gotten a feeling this strong before. The hair stood up on my arms.
That afternoon, as we were setting up camp, a lone horseman came galloping towards us. He was going flat out and his horse was covered with white lather. He had obviously come from the battle. He shouted for me. Great. Another arrow wound.
It was Seleucos. I frowned when I saw him. He didn’t bother to dismount. ‘Come quickly,’ he said urgently. ‘It’s Iskander.’
Those four words chilled me. In a sudden panic, I ran to the stables and called to the groom to bridle Lenaia, then I went to get Usse. He took one look at my face, at my nose that had begun to bleed, and grabbed his medical bag. Before we left, I also took the jar with the blue mould. The wounded soldier on our boat hadn’t developed a fever yet. He was looking better.
We rode back upriver as fast as we could. Nearchus would come with a boat to fetch Alexander. When Seleucos had told Nearchus to bring a boat I’d nearly fainted. Only a very severe wound could keep him from riding. Twice I nearly fell off my horse. My head was spinning. I felt like throwing up, but I didn’t stop.
Seleucos had been with Alexander. As we rode he shouted the story to us. They had arrived at the town in the morning. The town’s defenders had refused to parley and had shot arrows at the ambassadors. Alexander had then cordoned off the town and prepared the siege towers. They catapulted the walls and he propped ladders up against them. The defenders couldn’
t stop the assault, and Alexander, seeing how smoothly everything was going, was one of the first up the ladder. Luckily, Seleucos and Perdiccas had been with him.
As they reached the top of the ladder, the siege tower suddenly lurched forward, unbalanced by the catapult which had not been properly tied down. The huge engine crashed into the ladder, leaving Alexander, Seleucos, and Perdiccas balanced on the top of the wall. They were stuck. They couldn’t leap back down, it was a fifty-foot drop into an empty moat lined with flagstones. Standing on the top of the wall was out of the question, they were vulnerable from all sides. But behind the wall, and not too far away, was a huge tree. If they could make it to that shelter, they could wait until the main army broke down the wall or the gate. They didn’t hesitate. They leapt off the wall taking the defenders by surprise. They rushed to the tree, putting it at their backs.
The next twenty minutes were like being in Hades’s realm, Seleucos told us, his voice strained as he relived the horror of it. They stayed behind their shields, Alexander and Perdiccas standing, and Seleucos crouching. Alexander took his sword in his left hand and fought on the left side, Perdiccas took the right, and they slashed at the men all around them. For twenty minutes they kept five hundred men at bay. It was hopeless. Their arms burned with fatigue, the sweat blinded them, but Alexander wouldn’t give up. Shouting at them that help was on its way, he lunged from behind the shield to hack at an Indian, and at that instant an arrow hit his chest. He fell to his knees and tried to yank the arrow out. The pain made him scream. He grasped a low hanging branch and tried to pull himself upright. Blood spurted out of the wound, cutting off his respiration. Grey with shock, he pitched forward. Seleucos managed to keep him covered with his shield. Seleucos and Perdiccas could see the pool of blood forming at their feet but could do nothing but continue to defend their fallen leader.
Just when all seemed lost, the wall came crashing down, and Alexander’s army swarmed into the city, routing the Indians.
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