On board, some sailors hung over the rail lamenting, persuaded I was drowned. I swam back to the surface to cheers of joy. Then it was Alexander’s turn.
He was reticent. He didn’t trust the sea, but I told him it was because he didn’t know it. The bell was raised and then lowered again, changing the air.
‘Come on!’ I cried, and dived into the water. Alexander followed me. He dived under the bell, and when his head broke into the air he opened his eyes in amazement.
‘Everything is so clear!’ he cried.
‘Shhh, don’t talk, you’ll fog up the glass. Just look,’ I whispered.
Of course he had to talk. He talked so much that we had to haul the bell up several times to change the air inside it. But he had so many questions.
I stayed with him as we drifted around. An unspoiled coral reef paradise surrounded us. We saw sponges and corals, fish, eels, sharks, octopus, shellfish, and shrimp. The reef was beautiful, and Alexander insisted on using the diving bell at least ten times a day.
Everyone got a turn. Even Kalanos, who couldn’t swim, was helped underwater and into the bell by Alexander. He got some water up his nose, but the incredible sight more than made up for it.
Chiron was a water baby, and I swam with him every day as soon as the sun passed its zenith. I even took him into the diving bell. He held his breath naturally underwater, as some babies do. Once in the diving bell, he pressed his hands to the glass and gawped at everything. He loved the bright colours. Some fish came right up to see us.
Nearchus especially appreciated it. He and Alexander took the most turns, I think. They even went down at night and we held a torch above the bow, attracting the fish. The light cast a green glow in the water. It was so clear we could see the bell and the men inside it. There were some big fish at night. Nearchus loved it, but Alexander was slightly green when they swam back to the surface. A huge hammerhead shark had circled them for a while before swimming off into the deep.
That night we celebrated Alexander’s birthday.
It was late July, 325 BC, on a hot, sultry night somewhere in the Indian Ocean. Alexander was thirty-one years old.
After dinner, Alexander and I swam to shore. The water and the air seemed to be the same temperature. We floated over the reef and climbed onto the soft sand. Everyone else was staying aboard for the evening. We had the whole island to ourselves.
‘Happy birthday to you,’ I sang, ‘you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey, and you act like one too.’
‘Nice song,’ said Alexander doubtfully. ‘Is that what people of your time sing to each other on their birthday celebration?’
‘The ones who are six years old,’ I said. I lay back in the hammock and swung gently back and forth.
‘I want to talk to you,’ said Alexander, stopping the hammock. Even that motion made him slightly seasick. ‘About next year. When I’m going to die.’
‘I wish I’d never told you,’ I said.
‘I want to make plans. You know how I am, everything has to have contingency plans, even my contingency plans.’ He laughed but his eyes were sad. ‘What will happen to you if I do die? Will you be all right? Will you go somewhere safe with Plexis?’
I shook my head. ‘No, I won’t. If you die, I will too. I’ve already decided. I’m going to give Chiron to Plexis and I’m going to commit suttee.’
‘What?’ he sputtered, ‘I forbid it! What are you talking about? I won’t hear of it!’
‘You won’t be around to stop me,’ I said gently. ‘Besides, I won’t last three minutes without your protection.’
‘But what about Roxanne? What about Stateira? And Roxanne’s child, if she even has another?’
‘It will most likely be Ptolemy Lagos’s. The child, I mean. Oh, Alex, I don’t want to tell you everything, it’s hard enough that you know about your own death.’ I was shivering despite the heat.
‘Hush, don’t get upset. You must tell me, please. What happens to my empire, my wives and children? Tell me, please,’ he asked again.
‘Your empire is carved up into three major parts. Seleucos and Apames get Persia, Bactria, and Sogdia, and they found a great dynasty.
‘Ptolemy Lagos gets Egypt. He too starts a powerful dynasty that ends with Cleopatra, the most beautiful queen in the world.
‘Greece and Macedonia are claimed by your mother and your brother-in-law.
‘Some people believe you are poisoned. Most historians think you died of malaria, some have said alcohol poisoning although that seems a bit far-fetched, seeing how you Greeks water your wine.’
‘Not always,’ said Alexander. His voice was brittle.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.
‘So am I. I would have liked to rule with you by my side. I would have loved to grow old with my children in the great palaces of Babylon and Alexandria.’
‘No, you would not have,’ I said, drying my tears. ‘It’s a terrible life, that of king. Especially now, in this time. When you’re a king, you’re not human any more. And Alex, you’re far too human to be the king everyone wants you to be. Would you rule like Darius? Hidden behind a curtain so that the eyes of the common man never see your face? Would you become as deluded as he became? Thinking that only you could make the sun rise and the fields fertile?’
He snorted. ‘No, I’ve had my fill of fertilizing the fields, thank you.’
‘Don’t interrupt,’ I said softly. ‘Listen to me. You could never be happy sitting on a throne. You’re a man of action. You need to go places, to explore. I know you too well. You were never made to sit and watch as people fight each other for the right to be near you. The people you love will become targets for the ambitious, jealous subjects around you. How long do you think Plexis, Nearchus, or Perdiccas will last?’
‘I never thought of that,’ he admitted.
‘Well, think now. You’re too straightforward to rule.
There’s not a subtle bone in your body. You’ll just bulldoze over everyone, stirring things up, making most people resentful. You already do, but you’re at war so it doesn’t matter.’ I kissed his mouth. The sea had left a faint taste of salt. Or maybe it was tears. My tears.
‘My heart knows you’re right,’ he said, ‘But I was raised by a king, I grew up a prince, and I am the ruler. I will always feel as if I had shirked a sacred duty if I run away.’
‘You won’t be running away,’ I said sadly, ‘you’ll be dead.’
There was little he could say after that. Instead he held me tightly in his arms and kissed me. The hammock started rocking again, but this time the movement was more up and down than back and forth, and besides, it was Alexander making it move.
The night was sultry and we went swimming afterwards. I wanted to show him one more thing. In the warm water, phosphorescence, at the very edges of the waves, gave off a pale green light. I swirled my arms through the water and glowing trails followed my movements.
Alexander smiled. He’d seen glow-worms and the light was nearly the same. We swam together, our bodies outlined in light.
In the shallows, we came together again. We floated, making love slowly, silently, like the creatures of the sea. Just before I lost myself, I took Alexander’s face in my hands and looked into his eyes. My breath caught in my throat as my body shuddered against my husband’s. He pressed his mouth against mine, the salt of the ocean on his lips. His hands wrapped around my buttocks, pulling me harder and harder onto himself. He gave a gentle moan and then sighed. His hands slid from my hips, rose slowly through the water and found my breasts. Thrusting with his hips he moved into shallower water.
The water was waist deep. I wrapped my legs around Alexander and he lifted me easily, carrying me just to the water’s edge. Then he lay me down and drove himself into me again and again, harder and harder, until I cried out as each thrust found its way to my womb. There was urgency about him that he rarely showed. His hands roamed over my body, his lips, his mouth, his cock claiming me for his own. I arched m
y back, digging my heels into the wet sand. I met him and met him again as he claimed me, our bodies moving on the beach in a rhythm older than time.
Finally he gave a hoarse cry and shuddered, his body jerking in its release. He rolled off me, beads of light glowing in his curly hair and streaking his skin. His face was still, his mouth soft. The phosphorescence still surrounded us. We were in three inches of brightly glowing water. It was like lying in a cloud of stars.
I leaned over him on my elbows and licked the salt off his upper lip then laughed shakily. ‘Well, happy birthday,’ I said.
‘Ashley?’ his voice was blurred.
‘What?’
‘Why have you never told me when your birthday was?’
‘No one ever celebrated it,’ I admitted.
He got to his knees and then stood up slowly. He looked down at his body, covered with sand and phosphorescence and laughed softly. Then he pulled me to my feet, and we went once again into the water to rinse off. When we crawled back into the hammock, I thought I would fall asleep at once. But Alexander cupped my chin in his hand and asked me again.
‘When is your birthday? And how old are you?’
‘I’m not born yet,’ I reminded him. Then I sighed. ‘I’m thirty years old. I was born on the first of April – a cruel joke for my mother who never managed to forgive me. The fact I existed was bad enough, but to be born on that date seemed like an affront.’
Alexander traced the outline of my face with his finger. ‘Is the first of April considered a bad omen?’
‘It’s the day of practical jokes. Not the best day to be born if your parents have no sense of humour.’
‘I’m sorry I never celebrated your birthday. I promise that next year I will try. But first you have to tell me, exactly when is April?’
‘It’s the month of Mounichion.’
‘Mounichion? The month of the festival of Artemis, the huntress. Fitting, I think. She is portrayed as being very fair and utterly merciless.’
‘Oh, and I am merciless?’
‘You are; you make love to me mercilessly.’
‘Are you complaining?’
‘No.’ His voice had a smile in it. ‘I’m certainly not complaining. But I think that if you were born on the day of the practical joke, it’s because the gods have a sense of humour.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eos, the dawn, poked rosy fingers at us and woke us up. Even under the shade of the palm trees, the sun, dawn’s brother Helios, was bright. Sunlight sparkled on the waves, the white sand, and the glass diving bell hanging from the boat.
Everyone insisted on going for another ride in it. All day long, we took turns gazing at the colourful reef from under the bell. When we weren’t diving and swimming, we made sand castles or lazed in hammocks.
Alexander wanted to make love to me underwater in the bell. The glass got all steamed up and we couldn’t see the reef any more.
Nearchus took a spear underwater and killed a large grouper, so we had a feast that night. We held a barbecue on the beach. We sang and told jokes during dinner. In the dark, our teeth flashed whitely, and the fire made red shadows on our skin.
We finished eating the fish and lay back, content. Chiron played with a shell Nearchus had given him. The air was warm, the breeze felt like a soft caress. Sparks from the fire soared high in the air as Alexander told stories.
He was a consummate storyteller. I could listen to him reciting a grocery list and not get bored, so when he told stories about the great heroes, he gave me goose bumps.
That evening he told the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece, one of Nearchus’s favourite tales, of course. There was a long sea voyage in it.
Then Kalanos told us a story of the Indian goddess Kali, scaring us all. It was the perfect spooky, around-the-campfire tale. Afterwards, we were all afraid to go to sleep, and Alexander, always very imaginative, woke up in the middle of the night, yelling that he was being strangled. It was just my arm, but some nervous giggles sounded from around the campfire before we fell asleep again.
The next day we lifted anchor and sailed back towards the Indus River. Before we left, Alexander tossed two gold cups into the ocean. They were for Poseidon – one from him, one from Nearchus.
Alexander had lost his seasickness and stood on deck with the wind in his hair, his face split in a wide grin. He looked so handsome that I wished his court painter were here to paint him. I was a terrible artist. I had my own journal and I used to sketch little scenes in it, but when I tried to draw people they came out looking flat and awkward. I leaned my elbows on my knees and sighed. My kingdom for a camera.
His chest had healed. He sported a scar shaped like a perfect triangle between two ribs. His whole body was scarred. His arms and legs were well muscled. His hands were those of a warrior, strong and sure. His tendons showed sharply on the backs of his hands and in his neck. I loved his mouth especially; he had full lips with deep curls at the corners when he smiled.
He knew I was staring at him. He was terribly vain, and loved it when I admired him.
I blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it. The width of the boat separated us, but only for an instant. His movements were still as quick as when I’d first met him. His gait had changed to accommodate his leg, but it bothered him less now. He gathered me in his arms and held me. I could feel his heart beating. His eyes were brilliant in his tanned face.
‘Ashley of the Sacred Sandals, we’re going home,’ he said.
‘And where, exactly, is home?’ I asked, teasing him. But he only smiled proudly.
‘The world is our home,’ he said, and now his voice was ringing. He threw his head back and his words seemed to reach the sky. ‘The world is my home now!’ he shouted.
‘Alexander, King of Heaven and Earth,’ I said.
‘That’s me,’ he said modestly, and he kissed me. And anyone who could kiss so well, I thought, might as well be king of heaven and earth.
Son of the Moon Page 21