‘You can keep it.’ Alexander’s voice was neutral. It almost sounded like pity, and I looked at him sharply. So did Darius. For a second his eyes flashed, and I saw a glimpse of the king he’d been.
‘Thank you.’ His voice was careful too. They talked about the battle, verbally dancing around each other like fencers. Neither gave the other any advantage, but there was an undercurrent of sadness in Alexander that I could not fathom. Darius was puzzled as well, because, after an awkward silence, he motioned toward the table where a tray of fruit sat. ‘Would you like some figs? They’re fresh. I imagine you’ve been living off dried ones during the march.’
Alexander said, ‘No thank you.’
Darius nodded. ‘Ah well. How’s Stateira?’ It was almost an afterthought.
‘She’s well. She’s ruling Babylon.’
He looked surprised. ‘Oh? And your mother?’
‘I sent her back to her own people. It was either that, or kill her.’
Darius froze. I held my breath. He turned his head very slowly and looked at me for the first time. He had long-lashed, honey-brown eyes. Vanity prompted him to line them with kohl, making them appear even larger and more brilliant. His face was dark and his eyes were lighter than his skin, like a lion’s eyes. And like a lion he blinked and looked away from my gaze. ‘So you knew,’ he said.
‘Why did you think I came after you?’ Alexander’s voice rose, a note of anger in it.
‘Oh, I suppose I’d guessed.’ Darius shrugged and took a plump fig. He squeezed it appraisingly and then put it back in the bowl. ‘You want the babe.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Is it true she’s a goddess?’ He wouldn’t look me in the face and I found that disturbing.
‘It is.’ I was startled by Alexander’s answer, but even more startled at Darius’s next question.
‘Tell me when and how I shall die, Goddess.’ He was staring out the window, bracing his hands against the sill. His body was all flowing lines and muscle. I couldn’t help admiring his physique.
I looked at Alexander who nodded once.
I drew a deep breath. ‘You’ll be killed by someone you trust before the summer ends.’
A shudder ran through his body. When he spoke his voice was broken. ‘The child is in the hands of a Bactrian satrap. I gave him to a caravan going east. He’ll be in Bactria in the spring. The babe is marked by the goddess. He’ll come to no harm.’
I put my hand on Alexander’s arm to steady myself. ‘Why?’ I whispered.
‘Because of the oracle,’ said Darius. He sighed and then looked at me at last. ‘When Olympias came to the city she had the babe brought to the temple of Marduk. She was going to sacrifice him. An oracle told her that the babe would be her downfall. In a way, I suppose it was true.
‘However, my astrologer said that if the babe died I would lose everything that was dear to me. I love my daughter Stateira more than all the gold in this city. And I love her more than my own life. How long do you think she would have lived if you had found out that your child had been sacrificed on the altar of Babylon’s god? Now she is the Queen of Babylon. The babe is safe, but the prophecy said one more thing, Iskander, about you.’
‘What did it say about me?’ asked Alexander.
‘It said to ask her.’ He pointed at me. ‘The oracle said, “All Iskander’s questions can be answered by the child's mother.” It claimed she knows all.’ Then he turned to the window again. ‘Ask if you dare, Iskander. I did.’ His voice was almost inaudible.
I would have run out of the room, but Alexander caught my wrist. He bowed to Darius, and made me bow too, although Darius had his back to us and was staring out the window. Alexander knocked on the door, and Lysimachus let us out.
‘He can see anyone he chooses,’ said Alexander.
‘Anyone?’ Lysimachus looked surprised.
‘Anyone. He’ll be trusting no one now.’ He looked at me with flinty eyes as he said this, and I quailed.
I wanted to beg Alexander to go after our child right away. I had no idea exactly where Bactria could be. But common sense told me I had to curb my impatience. The army had just fought a bloody battle, and Alexander had to settle things here. I trusted him to find Paul, so I stayed silent and clung to the faint hope that was left to me.
When I got outside the palace, I gulped the air. The atmosphere had been suffocating. Darius was doomed.
I had hated Persepolis from the moment I’d entered it. Perhaps it was the emptiness of the city. No one had ever lived there. There were no women, no children, only Darius and the soldiers. Or maybe it was the pall of smoke that hung low in the sky. Thousands of men were clearing the bodies from the battlefield. The dead soldiers were being cremated, and the smell was ghastly. Darius had lost nearly half his army. Thirty thousand men had died five miles from the city, and the stench of blood was in the air. The rest of Darius’s men had either been absorbed into Alexander’s army, or, if they wouldn’t swear allegiance, sent to the mines as slaves.
Alexander brooded as we walked. Several times he made as if to speak, but each time he fell silent. At first, I wondered if he were thinking about the men he’d lost, and their families’ grief when the news arrived. Then I saw him looking at me out of the corners of his eyes, and I realized he was thinking about what Darius had said.
I reached out and touched his arm lightly, meaning to comfort him, but he flinched.
‘All right, that does it!’ I stopped in the middle of the path and folded my arms across my chest. ‘We have to talk about this. It will do no good for you to go on sulking.’
He spun around and faced me, his eyes blazing. ‘Sulking? Sulking, am I?’
‘Yes.’ I glared back at him, but I couldn’t stay angry long. ‘Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. I never should have said anything to Darius. It was a mistake, I admit. I regret it and I wish you had never made me do it.’
‘Made you do it? I made you do it?’ His anger was terrible to behold. ‘I told you not to!’
‘You nodded!’ I was furious. ‘You nodded your head like this!’
‘That means “no”!’ he sputtered. ‘Everyone knows that!’
‘I forgot,’ I said miserably. ‘I’m sorry. Where I come from that means “yes”.’
‘Where do you come from?’
I shook my head. ‘That means “no”, where I come from. And I can’t tell you.’
We stared at each other. Alexander’s face was paler than usual, his forehead damp. ‘The gods are playing with us,’ he said slowly.
‘Perhaps it’s true.’ I couldn’t face him any more and I turned my head.
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He took my chin and made me look into his eyes. ‘How do you know he will die by the hand of someone he trusts?’
I shivered. I would have to tell him, and by doing so change the course of history. A sharp pain was starting in my toes and I wondered if it was the erasure that was beginning. In a moment I would disappear. Probably writhing in horrible pain. I glanced down, expecting to see my feet disappearing but no, it was just Alexander, standing on my foot. ‘You’re on my foot,’ I said, pointing.
He cursed and stepped backwards. ‘I need to know. Are you really an oracle?’
I shook my head. ‘No, I’m not. I’ve never even seen an oracle, and I don’t know what they do, or how they act. When I was in the palace, all I could think of was my baby, and that Darius had kidnapped him. I was angry. I said something I regret. If it turns out to be true, we’ll talk about it then. Right now I’m just glad to be out of there and away from him.’
‘He was a great man,’ said Alexander.
‘But you’re a greater one.’ I touched his face and then pulled him towards me and kissed him. ‘And you’re the best kisser in the world. Who taught you?’
He opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut. ‘My mother was right. All women are sorceresses.’
My mouth twitched. ‘For once, she was probably right.’ I linked my arm thro
ugh his, and he didn’t pull away. He was not convinced and was still angry, I could tell. He hadn’t forgiven me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d have some serious explaining to do. Bleakly, I wondered what I could invent.
* * *
Back at the camp, I went to help Usse in the three hospital tents. My patients were doing better than I’d hoped. So far, none of then had developed a fever. Usse had prepared fresh bandages, and we changed them each day. We kept water boiling to sterilize the bandages. Usse had accepted what I’d said about germs.
Later that evening, Alexander joined us, visiting with the wounded soldiers. He followed at our heels, talking, soothing, encouraging and praising his men. When he arrived, their cheeks flushed as if they’d just received a transfusion. When Alexander left us to go into the third tent, I scratched my head and turned to Usse.
‘I will never understand how he does it,’ I said, a hint of peevishness in my voice.
Usse was thoughtful for a moment, while we strolled out of the tent and stood in the cool dusk. Then he said, ‘He attracts people. He has a magnetism that is given once every three or four centuries. It is written in our book of prophecies. He will change the world, and one cannot help but feel drawn to him. We are as helpless as moths before a flame.’
I grimaced. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a dose of his magnetism. I was never any good at making friends.’
He didn’t smile back, and for the first time his dark eyes were sad as he looked at me. ‘Iskander has no friends,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘Only followers.’
I shook my head. ‘You’re wrong. You’re his friend and so is Aristotle, and myself, and Lysimachus, Nearchus ...’ I was counting on my fingers but he stopped me.
‘A friend is someone special. I am his slave and his doctor. Aristotle is his teacher. You are his wife. The soldiers, captains and generals are men who fight for him. All the love we feel for Iskander touches him not. That’s what I’m trying to say. To be a friend one has to give and receive. Iskander receives our love and devotion, but it is like candlelight to the sun. His brilliance outshines us. He gives equally to each and every man, but as unconsciously as the sun gives off heat. He is above us, whether we like it or not. The gods placed him there, and it is both an honour and a curse. He is not a common mortal.’ His face was earnest. ‘You, of all people, should know this.’
‘Me? Why me?’
He shook his head. ‘Because you don’t belong here. I don’t know where you come from, but I feel this.’ He reached out and nearly touched my arm. ‘There is a space around you that nobody else has. Perhaps someday you’ll explain. Until then, I will be your friend.’
Usse observed me, his brown eyes full of kindness. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. No one had ever wanted to be my friend. I stammered, ‘Thank you, Usse.’ My throat closed up, and I could say no more.
Usse smiled at me and then entered the third tent. I braced myself before following. In the first two tents, the sick were slowly healing, but in this tent the men were dying. Here, I stood back and watched Usse and Alexander. The tent was dim and silent. Braziers smoked; rich fumes calmed the agonies of the thirty soldiers lying on pallets.
Alexander knelt beside each man and took his hand. If they were conscious he spoke to them, his voice a low murmur. Slowly he went from one to another. They were all so young, ranging from around sixteen to forty, with the majority in their early twenties.
The youngest, a boy of sixteen, was unconscious but his eyelids fluttered when Alexander spoke to him. The youth was suffering from a head wound, and Usse said he would die within the hour. Alexander sat with him, holding his hand until the young man drew his last breath. Then he gently touched the boy’s face.
He held the hands of the men as they lay dying, and I stood behind him and watched as his presence eased their passage from this world to the next. It was almost as if they were waiting for his touch. Some died watching him, and Alexander met their stares, never blinking or lowering his eyes.
I saw one of my patients with an arrow stuck in his chest. I couldn’t remove the arrow without killing him outright. The arrow wavered with each heartbeat. He was still alive, though barely. Usse had insisted on leaving the arrow. Now I found out why. Alexander sat next to the man and they spoke. The patient was conscious, and his voice was clear. After they had talked nearly an hour, the man nodded to Alexander. ‘It’s time,’ he said. Alexander took a firm grip on the arrow and drew it out. Blood gushed over his hands but he didn’t move. Soon the man died with a deep sigh, but his face stayed peaceful.
Alexander turned to a slave carrying a basin of water and rinsed his hands. Then he dried them on a towel and went to the next man. His face looked so hard it could have been marble.
Usse and I stood silently behind him. Once he murmured that I didn’t have to stay. I don’t know where Alexander got the strength to help the dying. Wherever he got it, I admired him. I stayed.
The three of us left the tent together. Usse and Alexander talked in low voices. I walked in a daze. I had thought that after the battle I had become immune to death, but I hadn’t. It frightened me.
In the dusk, the campsite was peaceful. Orange campfires flickered. Tents looked fluorescent in the purple air. Smoke was pale blue, and Alexander’s white skirt seemed to float in front of me. I blinked my eyes but the dark kept closing in, and soon all I could see was a spot of white.
Alexander turned because some sixth sense told him I was falling. He caught me before I hit the ground. He moved faster than anyone should be able to move. I knew it was he, I knew his hands, his scent, his voice. But I didn’t know why I’d fainted until Usse examined me and pronounced me pregnant again.
‘A baby?’ I was stunned.
Usse smiled and sat back on his heels, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘A baby. In seven months.’
‘So that’s why I’m so tired,’ I said. Lately I’d felt as if I were dragging around a heavy weight. Paul would be six months old, and I was two months pregnant. I worried about that. Was it too early? I’d gotten pregnant only four months after my baby’s birth.
Usse told me that it was normal; I’d stopped nursing and my milk had dried up early. ‘When the milk dries up then the woman gets pregnant again.’ He said this with a shrug. ‘That’s nature’s way.’ I supposed that was why so many women kept breastfeeding their children until they were nearly three years old.
Alexander was delighted. He gave me Brazza, his eunuch, to take care of me. I accepted, upon one condition: that Alexander free Brazza and tell him that whenever he wanted he could leave. He was to be paid a real salary, not just given room and board. I insisted on the same treatment for Usse and Axiom, Alexander’s other slaves. Alexander accepted. He told me he’d give me whatever I wanted. It was traditional for a husband to give in to his pregnant wife’s wishes. The slaves we freed were officially adopted into our family, as was required by Athenian law. We celebrated by having a ceremonial dinner. Alexander had a goat slaughtered, and we managed to get some fresh fruit, although that must have cost Alexander an exorbitant amount of money in the dead of winter. I didn’t think he’d mind. He had more than enough, with all the gold he was taking out of Persepolis.
Now Axiom, Usse, and Brazza were our godchildren, which is the closest description I can give to their relationship to us. They were also free to go. None of them left.
After the ceremony I wondered if their attitude would change, but I saw not the slightest difference. They had always been kind, polite, and a bit distant. I knew that the distance was because of my own personality, and nothing could be done about it. The invisible space around me that Usse felt was felt by all. They loved Alexander but were in awe of me. Nothing I could ever do or say would change this.
Usse was the closest to me. We would often talk for hours. But I had to be careful what I said; I still had the threat of being erased if I changed history. For days I fretted about that. When I’d healed the wounded soldiers was I c
hanging history? Then I thought about it differently. Usse had given me the soldiers who were the least likely to die. I was no doctor, and so in all likelihood the men I’d treated would have lived anyway.
Usse sensed my restraint but didn’t press me, and I, strange as it may seem, felt no wish to confide in anyone as to my secret. I had grown up as an only child, never having the luxury of a friend. The idea of having a confidant was alien to me, and that probably saved my life.
Chapter Nine
For weeks after the battle, I saw little of Alexander. I was asleep when he came back to the camp after spending most of the day at Persepolis. He woke up before dawn, so there was no way I could see him unless I got up as early as he did.
I started waking up with Alexander. That way we shared breakfast and did our exercises together. However, the intimacy lasted but a quarter of an hour before he was obliged to leave again. He had to organize everything, and there were not enough hours in a day for all he had to do. He had to oversee the departure of the treasure. He had to liaise with all the dignitaries of the surrounding villages and make arrangements to feed his army for the winter. He had to take care of Darius, and that, I think, drained his energy more than any other chore.
He also had to stay in touch with the cities he’d already conquered. And he had to deal with things like the Harpalus scandal. His lawyers actually came to Persepolis for him to sign papers. Harpalus had fled to Crete, and someone had assassinated him there. Meanwhile, half the treasure he’d stolen had disappeared. Demosthenes, the magistrate who’d been in charge of sequestrating the money when it arrived in Athens, had already been accused.
Alexander made a face as he told me this. He ran his hands through his hair, yawned, and then scratched himself. Brazza brought us our breakfast and I picked up a dried fig.
‘What will Demosthenes do? Wasn’t he a friend of yours?’ I asked Alexander.
‘He’s no friend of mine, he hates everything non-Greek. He’s a lawyer and an orator – one of the best. I imagine he’ll defend himself and the jury will free him.’ He grinned. ‘He could probably talk himself out of Hades’ realm if he tried. I doubt anything will happen to him. He’s as sly as Hermes himself.’ He took a sip of yoghurt then put the dish down. His face had gone sombre.
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