‘What are you doing?’ Alexander was staring at me.
‘I'm thinking.’
‘I see that. If you’re so upset about Barsine I can intercept her cortège and send her back.’
‘No, don’t do that. I’d like to meet her. Really, I would,’ I insisted, seeing the doubt in his eyes.
‘Why do you look so, so ...’
‘Upset?’ I tried to smile, failed, and sat down again. ‘Oh, Alex, it’s nothing. You know how pregnant women get, all emotional and silly. I’m sure Aristotle must have said something about that.’
‘Some women, maybe, but not you. You don’t ever let your emotions show. You keep everything hidden behind that icy gaze. Do you know what they say about you?’
‘You mean besides saying I’m a goddess and an oracle?’
‘They say you spent too much time in the kingdom of the dead, and that your heart is frozen.’
I was startled. ‘But why?’
‘When the wounded soldiers came in you would smile at them, as if you didn’t care.’
I gasped. ‘But I thought that it would comfort them! I didn’t want them to see how worried I was!’
‘But they knew how grievous their wounds were. My soldiers are all professionals. They don’t need you to hide your feelings from them. They want honesty. It’s a sign of respect in this world. To them you were making light of their wounds.’
‘Do you believe that?’ I asked, hurt.
‘No, of course not, nor does Usse. But you have to stop hiding your feelings and saying things with two meanings. Perhaps in the world of the gods it is different, although you claim to be a mortal. For a mortal, you act remarkably like a god. We’re used to their duplicity, but not yours.’
I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was too earnest and each word was painful. ‘I didn’t realize that,’ I whispered.
‘I think that if you cannot tell the truth, perhaps it would be better to say nothing.’ Alexander’s voice was gentle, as if talking to a small child. I felt my cheeks get hot and I knew that my nose would start bleeding. I pinched the bridge of my nose hard to try and stop it, but it was too late. Blood spattered on my lap, staining my robe.
‘Oh no,’ I moaned, grabbing a towel. I pressed it to my face and used it to hide my angry tears. Did he think it was easy for me? I lowered the towel and narrowed my eyes. No one understood me. I was stuck here. There was nowhere I could go. I could never return to my own time. I was pregnant, and the only man I’d ever loved was criticizing me – and his first wife was arriving in a matter of days. A shudder ran through me.
Alexander took the towel from my numb hands and gently wiped my face, pausing now and then to kiss me. I pushed him away, but he persisted. I turned my back to him, and he ran his hands down my spine, rubbing his thumbs into my muscles, kneading my back and ending up with his hands encircling my shoulders. Then he started to massage my neck, tickling my cheeks, and leaning down to nibble on my earlobe and lips. I ended up kissing him back. I put my arms around his neck and pulled him down on the bed. When he was near me, touching me, his mouth on mine, his hands roaming over my body, I simply couldn’t imagine life without him.
His eyes, so large, long, and fierce, saw right through me. His body was an electric charge. His personality was a drug. I was completely addicted to him. I fastened my mouth on his neck like a vampire, and gave him a love bite. He growled and bit my shoulder. Our lovemaking degenerated into a wrestling match. He was a pro at wrestling; I suppose he learned at school in Greece.
I had been on a wrestling team in my all-girls school. It was one way of getting our frustrations to a manageable level. I had some terrific memories of those games, legs sliding against legs, backs arching, bellies and hips touching. In a moment I would dissolve into a boneless shiver of desire. I threw myself sideways and then twisted around, straddling his back. I flung my arm around his neck in a half nelson and tried to throw him. He just gave a deep chuckle and slid out from beneath me with a movement like silk. I gasped and then moaned as he pulled me to him from behind. I don’t think I had ever been as excited.
However, I was strong and lithe, and he hadn’t won quite yet. I scissored my legs and grabbed him around the torso. Using my body as a lever, I managed to throw him down. He was a bit hampered by his erection, but he easily avoided being pinned and slipped away again, his eyes dancing.
My breath was coming in short gasps, and I decided that the best way to finish this game would be to surrender. So I did by grabbing him around the neck and dragging him down on top of me. I arched my back and met him halfway.
In the end, I’m not sure who won. I woke up on the floor. Alexander’s body seemed to be braided with mine and with all the covers on the bed that we’d dragged down on the floor with us. He had fallen soundly asleep, as he usually did after a bout of lovemaking. I had slept too. I wondered what had woken me and then I heard a small cough.
I turned my head, not an easy feat with all the covers and one of Alexander’s arms around me, and looked.
Axiom was standing in the tent’s entrance. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. I tried to help him. ‘Yes, Axiom, what can I do for you?’
‘It’s just that someone has arrived, my lady, someone for Iskander.’
Alexander stirred and raised his head. His hair fell into his eyes, making him look like a dissolute lion. ‘What is it?’ he groaned, getting to his knees and pushing his hair back.
‘It’s your first wife, sir. It’s Barsine. She’s come early.’
Chapter Eleven
Axiom, bless him, managed to get Barsine settled in another tent while Alexander and I rushed around looking for clothes and combing our hair. I braided his hair, although my hands were shaking. I tied a ribbon on it and tried to make it as neat as possible. Then I found a clean linen robe and threw it at him, while I dug through the bedcovers looking for my robe. I found it, but when I held it up, I saw the stains and remembered my nosebleed.
Swearing, I took one of the new bolts of cloth and draped it around me. I was going to meet Alexander’s first wife dressed in woollen flannel. There was rather more cloth than I needed, so I asked Alexander to cut it in half with his sword.
‘My sword is for killing enemies,’ he said, ‘not for cutting cloth.’
‘Please!’ I cried, ‘I’ll look ridiculous!’
He snorted, grabbed the cloth from me, and ripped it straight down the middle. ‘Is this all right?’ he asked.
‘Fine, fine. Thanks.’ I draped it Greek style, which meant I had to keep my arms down or my breasts would be bared.
I shouldn’t have worried.
When we entered the tent, Barsine stood up. And up, and up, and up. She must have been at least seven feet tall. She had a round, open face and a short thatch of fiery red hair. Her eyes were bright blue and crinkled at the edges when she smiled, which she did non-stop. She was ... I searched for the perfect description, and came up with a jolly giant. She was dressed in a pleated, un-dyed linen skirt, and her breasts were bare. She wore a wide leather belt, with one of the biggest swords I’d ever seen stuck into it. Her hair had been cut using a bowl, I think. It stuck out raggedly on either side of her head. She had long, curly red hair on her legs and under her arms. I was fascinated. She was not badly built at all. Junoesque, perhaps, would describe it. Her shoulders were wider than Alexander’s, and her breasts large and round. Her legs were long and shapely, although a bit muscular, and her arms ... well, Hercules, watch out!
I was getting a serious case of the giggles. Part of it was Barsine’s own good humour. Another part was her accent. She sounded like a Swedish comedian speaking Greek.
Alexander bowed. She gave him a big bear hug, and I was worried when he turned blue, but she let go before he suffocated. I was more prudent; I put out my hand. She only bruised three bones.
I liked her right away. I’d been feeling like a giant for so long, towering over most men and all the women, it was refreshing to stand next to someone wh
o made me feel petite. She told me that she was the smallest in her family, and that her family was one of the smallest in her tribe. I stared at Alexander. Now I knew why he insisted on marrying her. Get these people on your side and you’ll never lose a battle.
Plexis was in the tent, looking smug. Alexander said to him, ‘Why didn’t you tell me Barsine was coming so soon?’
‘I did tell you she was coming; did I forget to mention when? How silly of me!’ Alexander was getting a look on his face that I recognized, and I didn’t want him to lose his temper in front of Barsine.
‘No harm done,’ I said hurriedly, taking Plexis by the arm and leading him out of the tent. ‘Why don’t we leave Alexander and Barsine alone, they haven’t seen each other in so long. I’ll show you my new donkey.’
‘Your new what?’ Plexis balked. He seemed to want to stay in the tent, but I knew that Alexander was angry with him, and that staying was not wise. Luckily, Brazza was on my side. He took Plexis by the other arm, and we escorted him out of the tent. Once in the sunlight he turned to face us, furious, but Brazza put his finger to his lips and jerked his head sideways.
We looked. A wall of massive barbarians was standing between the tent and the stables. There must have been three hundred of them. Plexis opened his mouth like a fish, then snapped it shut.
‘Shall we go and see my donkey?’ I asked, sweetly.
He just gaped.
Once in the stables, and out of earshot of the redwood forest of Barsine’s kinsmen, Plexis calmed down a bit. I was afraid he’d be angry, but he wasn’t. Something had gone wrong. I thought I knew what it was: Barsine hadn’t decided to have me put to death on sight. However, something had obviously gone right, and he seemed pleased. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me what it was. He was a difficult person.
To tease him, I had my donkey led out and I trotted her up and down before him, asking him what he thought. He thought I was expendable, but he had resigned himself to waiting for another moment.
‘Isn’t she adorable?’ I asked. ‘I’ve named her Penelope. Don’t you think that’s a good name for a donkey?’
‘Penelope was my mother’s name,’ he said, between clenched teeth.
I was disconcerted. He looked truly chagrined. ‘I’m so sorry! I’ll change it right away.’ I thought quickly. I couldn’t name her after a goddess; it would be a frightful affront. I needed something innocuous. ‘How about White Beauty?’ I asked brightly. ‘She’s white, isn’t she?’
He didn’t deign to answer, absorbed in examining an invisible spot on his tunic. I sighed and put my donkey back in her stall. Out of habit, I glanced over at Bucephalus’s stall, intending to give him a pat on the nose, but he wasn’t there. Strange, I thought. Maybe he was out in the pasture. I looked at Plexis, standing near the stone wall. I was going to have to make friends with this prickly person, and I hadn’t the faintest idea where to start.
When I emerged from the stables, I noticed a long column of soldiers forming lines on either side of the road at the far end of the camp.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, pointing.
Plexis looked up and shrugged. ‘Oh that. They’re sending the dead soldiers to their villages for burial.’
I shuddered. ‘Poor men. What will happen to their families?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, what will happen to their wives if they had them, or their children? Will they be taken care of?’
He looked shocked. ‘Of course. What kind of a question is that?’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ I said crossly. ‘How are they taken care of?’
Plexis frowned. ‘Well, it depends which tribe they belong to; the funeral rites are different all over. But most will be cremated with full honours, and their names will be marked on their graves.’
‘I meant, how are the families taken care of.’
Plexis gave a look that plainly said he thought I was retarded, but he answered me civilly enough. ‘Soldiers’ orphans are taken care of by the state until they are grown. When they reach their sixteenth birthday, the boys are taken to the theatre and presented to the public with these words: ‘We the people raised these children, whose fathers died valiantly in the war. We give them arms and armour, so that they may go out into the world and fight their own battles.’ Then they are invited to sit in the front row of the theatre. It is all very ceremonial and touching,’ Plexis said, warming to his task as teacher. ‘The wives get a pension, of course. As for the soldiers wounded in battle who can no longer fight or work, they are fed and clothed by the state until the end of their days. Does this answer your question?’
‘You didn’t mention the soldier’s daughters,’ I said. ‘If they don’t get arms and armour to fight with, do they at least get to go to the theatre?’
Plexis heaved an enormous sigh. ‘Girls usually find a husband, and of course they get to go to the theatre. Now, are you satisfied? What are you staring at?’
I was staring at the long line of wagons getting ready to leave the camp. Usse was supervising. The dead soldiers were carefully rolled up in their own capes, placed in a narrow coffin made of freshly cut wood, and loaded onto a wagon. As each wagon was filled, it moved off slowly.
The soldiers standing in line saluted. A grim quiet had fallen over the camp that I hadn’t heard since the men were getting ready for battle.
I turned towards Plexis. ‘Shouldn’t Iskander be here?’
He pointed, and I saw the flash of sunlight on gold. Alexander had left the campsite and was mounted on Bucephalus. Dressed in full regalia, he walked his horse slowly to the head of the line of soldiers and then someone started blowing a trumpet. Three notes, over and over again, the first note being taken up only when the last note had completely died away. My skin prickled. It went on for an hour. Plexis and I joined the very end of the line and stood in silence, watching the coffins being loaded and the horses being hitched to the wagons.
As the wagons left, the soldiers all raised their right hands in a silent farewell. Only Alexander sat motionless on the back of his gleaming pony. Without thinking I turned, buried my face in Plexis’s chest, and sobbed. He recoiled, and then his arms came up around me. He didn’t say a word. He just held me.
Two hundred soldiers left the camp that evening in wooden boxes.
I couldn’t eat dinner. I sat next to Barsine and watched as she devoured a whole kid goat practically by herself, but I couldn’t touch a thing. My stomach was clenched tight with grief. I kept seeing the faces of the dying soldiers. Those I’d spoken to, those I’d tried to comfort, and those Alexander had held while they died.
Alexander moved the food around on his plate, but didn’t eat much either.
‘When did you get married?’ Barsine asked me, polite interest on her round face.
‘Two months ago, in Susa,’ I replied. I tried to smile, but my face hurt. The funeral procession had overwhelmed me. ‘Was your trip difficult?’
‘No.’ Barsine speared another piece of meat with her dagger and ate it as if it were a large lollipop. ‘My horses are strong.’
I nodded. They would have to be.
Her tribesmen were outside; only two of them had joined us for dinner. I was surprised that we were eating in our tent. Usually we ate dinner outside with the men. The two men eating with us resembled big, hairy mountains. They ate silently and voraciously. I wondered how long they were planning to stay, because if there were three hundred appetites like that outside, I was worried about our livestock.
I was about to ask, when Alexander stood up to make a toast. He raised his golden cup to his first wife and said, ‘Barsine, my queen, I am honoured by your visit. Let us drink to your health.’
We drank. Brazza and Axiom poured us all more wine.
‘I would like to welcome your kinsmen into my army. They will be an important part of my cavalry. I thank you for this precious gift. We drink to their health.’
One of the ‘precious gifts’ burped loudly, sha
king the tent, and we all drained our glasses again. Brazza and Axiom poured us more wine.
‘I hope your visit will be a long one, and that when you return to your people you will bring back gifts to show my thanks.’ His voice was careful now. Not quite slurred, but not exactly clear.
We drained our cups. The tent was slowly spinning around and around. I hadn’t eaten anything, and the wine was unwatered for once, as sweet and strong as sloe gin.
I have no idea how I got to bed. One minute I was sitting next to Barsine and the next minute I was lying across her lap snoring. I was aware of the murmur of voices, warm laughter, and then someone picked me up and put me in bed. I think it was Brazza. Then I fell asleep and dreamed of giant bears that growled and roared all night long.
* * *
The early light of morning is very dazzling. It spears the eyeballs and makes the head scream. Especially if one has a monster hangover. I groaned in pain, but my groan was lost in the rumbling growl of a bear. I froze. I was awake, my dream was over. Carefully, I raised my head. Slowly, so my eyeballs wouldn’t fall out of their sockets, I peered over the great mound of covers on the bed next to me. Barsine was spread over the bed, naked except for her leather belt, and she was snoring loudly.
Loudly? It was deafening! I had no idea how I could have slept all night with that noise next to my head. Alexander was on the far side of the bed; his head was under one of Barsine’s arms, his nude buttocks sticking out of the covers, one leg hanging off the bed. His snores were muffled.
The Road to Alexander Page 17