‘If I could make one wish tonight,’ I said softly. ‘I would wish that Barsine’s son would be the light of Iskander’s life, and that they would grow old together. I would wish that all of us would grow old together.’
Plexis shivered. ‘I hate it when you talk like that,’ he said. Then we were quiet as the first songbirds announced the dawn.
Chapter Fourteen
Nearchus arrived with the sound of clashing cymbals and blaring trumpets. A long line of dusty horses and tired soldiers filed into the camp.
As before, we had to do the whole welcoming ceremony, complete with priest, sacrificed goat and the reading of the entrails. Yuck.
The entrails were pronounced auspicious. Nearchus strutted about with his regalia. Barsine played the part of the first lady. Alexander gave a speech. Plexis and I waited in the wings.
We had become uneasy allies. Uneasy, because Plexis considered I knew too much about him, and he knew far too little about me.
Barsine was glowing. After two weeks with Alexander she was sure she was pregnant, and she slathered ritual red mud on her belly and thighs and walked around scaring Nearchus’s soldiers who hadn’t quite gotten used to her yet.
She didn’t let a little thing like a baby get in the way of sports and she continued to hurl javelins, ride, and shoot arrows all day long. I worried until Usse told me he didn’t think it would hurt her, so I relaxed. I wanted everything to go well for the cheerful princess.
I went to find Lysimachus on his day off and told him that the name ‘Ashley of the Sacred Sandals’ was just a joke between Iskander and me. I begged him not to go around repeating it to everyone. He agreed, and in the same breath asked me to tell his fortune. The soldiers were very superstitious; they would spend ridiculous amounts of money on oracles and priestesses to try and divine the future. Perhaps the fact that their job was so dangerous had something to do with it. In a time where a simple cut could get septic and kill within days, being a soldier was risky indeed. I sighed.
‘Lysimachus, I don’t tell fortunes. You can’t look into the future. There’s no such thing as fate!’ I tried to talk common sense to him, but it was hopeless.
‘Please, we’ll pay you! Look, my friends and I have sixteen obols, and we’ll throw in a white chicken. You can sacrifice the chicken and tell us our fortunes with the entrails. Please?’
‘Aren’t you afraid of what I might say?’
‘Of course, who wouldn’t be? We know you’re a real oracle. Please? The one in the village is so old, we can’t understand a thing she says.’
I pursed my lips. This oracle business was starting to get on my nerves, yet it intrigued me at the same time. ‘On one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘First, you take me to see the oracle in the village.’ I wanted to see the old lady and find out what all the fuss was about.
Barsine insisted on coming with us. Even she believed in oracles. Alexander was in Persepolis with Nearchus. Otherwise, I don’t know what he would have thought about this outing. Plexis joined our troop. He said he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Usse watched us leave with a faint line of worry between his brows.
I rode my white donkey, but everyone else walked. We sang and joked as we went toward the town. For me, the whole thing was a lark; a sightseeing trip for a tourist from the future. I didn’t believe in gods, oracles or fortune-tellers, but for the people walking along beside me, the gods were real. For the Greeks, the only difference between the gods and men, was that the gods were immortal and could change form. The gods had the same emotions and frailties as men, and loved to meddle in human affairs – they would often come to earth from their home on Mount Olympus and walk among the unsuspecting humans.
My little donkey picked her way delicately over the stepping-stones in the stream, crossing to the other side without a stumble. Plexis wasn’t so lucky. His foot slipped, and he fell with a mighty splash in the middle of the creek. He stood. The icy water was only waist deep but he was shivering. The soldiers and Barsine all screamed with laughter; decidedly the trip was getting better and better. But I frowned.
‘You should go back and get some warm clothes,’ I said. ‘You’ll catch cold if you don’t.’
Plexis shook his head stubbornly. ‘No, I’ve been sitting around the camp doing nothing. I want to do something interesting. Why, if I were in Athens right now we’d be celebrating the fête of Demeter, and the biggest festival in Athens, the festival of Zeus, is in seven days. I don’t suppose we’ll do anything wonderful here.’ He voice was mournful. Obviously he missed his busy party life in Athens. He took off his sopping wet cloak, wrung it out, and hung it on a branch to collect on the way back. Then he walked along behind us, naked. I knew that as an authentic Athenian he wouldn’t like to go about with no clothes. The soldiers didn’t mind, but they were soldiers.
I had a skirt and a long tunic, so I took off my skirt and gave it to him. ‘Here, wear this.’
He seemed pleased. My skirt was very fine linen with small, even pleats. He wrapped it around his slender waist and tied a jaunty bow at the side. ‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said with a low bow.
We all laughed at him, and the soldiers teased him until we got into sight of the village. Then my companions fell silent. Now I can say it was the silence Catholics get when they go to communion, but at the time it just seemed as if the sun had gone behind a cloud, and I shivered.
The oracle, or pythia as she was sometimes called, was an old woman living on the outskirts of the village. Her cottage was surrounded by a hedge of fragrant thyme and lavender. Several white goats and chickens were in a small paddock in the back.
Her house was actually a temple. It had an open courtyard with a large stone altar under an olive tree. When we arrived, the old woman was outside sitting in the sun, her face hidden in the shadow of a large-brimmed straw hat. She wore a white robe, Greek style. When she stood to greet us, I saw she was almost as tall as I.
She might have looked old but her voice was authoritative. ‘Bring the donkey to the altar,’ she ordered.
‘Why?’ I asked, getting off White Beauty’s back and patting her affectionately.
‘For the sacrifice. You’ve brought her for the oracle, have you not? Do you want to consult Apollo? Have you the pelanos?’ This was the fee paid to the oracle.
‘The donkey is mine,’ I cried. ‘She’s not to be killed!’ I got back on, intending to ride away.
One of the soldiers caught her bridle. ‘The oracle has spoken,’ he said. ‘The donkey will be sacrificed.’
‘No!’ I kicked at him with my foot, trying to wrench the donkey’s head away. But she was too docile and just stood calmly while the soldiers pulled me off the poor creature and led her to the altar. I screamed, ‘Barsine! Plexis! Lysimachus! Do something!’
But Barsine wore an expression of pity and disgust, as if I were committing a heinous crime. Plexis grabbed my arm and squeezed it so hard he bruised it. ‘Don’t say another word!’ he hissed. ‘What do you think you’re doing? It’s an honour for your donkey.’
‘You’re just mad because I named her Penelope,’ I sobbed. ‘Lysimachus, don’t let her do that!’
Lysimachus’s face was twisted with pity, and he tried to calm me with gentle words. ‘Why do you protest? You wanted to see the oracle. Don’t worry, we’ll let you go first, and Apollo will speak directly to you.’
While he spoke, the old woman took off her hat and washed her hands in a small spring next to the altar. Then she reached up into the branches of the olive tree and took down a sharp knife. White Beauty didn’t even blink when the woman seized her under the chin and lifted her head up. With a deft movement, she cut the donkey’s throat. I saw a red line bloom in her snowy coat, and then I fainted.
Barsine shook me awake. She was holding me up, and my head lolled against her arm. ‘Wake up! Wake up! It’s done.’
I opened my eyes and saw the old woman take a pitcher and fill it in the spring.
Then she dashed cold water onto the body of my poor donkey, whose nerves were still twitching, making her look as if she were trying to get up. I gave a sharp cry, and then my nose bled all over Barsine and my tunic.
Blood splattered everywhere. The soldiers were most impressed. They leapt backwards and stared at me and at the dead donkey. The old woman had disembowelled the carcass and was busy spreading the intestines and liver onto the altar. She looked up and saw me, and her eyes widened.
‘A good omen!’ she cried, pointing at me with the bloody knife. ‘A good omen indeed!’
The soldiers cheered and Barsine beamed, and then Plexis took off his skirt and held it to my nose, begging me in a low voice to control myself, or I’d ruin everything.
I was not used to having a naked stranger standing so close to me, especially one as good looking as Plexis. His thighs brushed against mine and I could feel the heat of his body. My nose bled even more. I closed my eyes and said in a strangled voice, ‘Plexis, will you please get away from me? And put some clothes on, you’re making it worse!’ He stopped touching me and jumped back as if he’d been scalded. ‘I don’t believe this,’ I said, my eyes still closed. I sat down and used my tunic to staunch the blood.
The old woman’s yard looked like a battlefield. Most of us were covered with blood, either White Beauty’s or mine. The intestines and liver were examined and pronounced ‘most auspicious’. Apparently, all our dreams would come true. I kept my eyes closed as much as possible. For me this day was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
It wasn’t over. The woman washed in the spring and bade us wash too. Then she led us into the temple where a fire smouldered in a bronze brazier. She threw handfuls of leaves and herbs on the fire, and stinging smoke filled the room. I choked and my eyes started watering. Strangely enough, no one else seemed affected. The woman sat with her head right in the smoke for a while, and then she disappeared down a staircase that led to a cellar. We followed her, and found ourselves in a small square room hewn out of the bedrock. The room was lit by a single torch, and there were benches all around the walls. Everyone sat as if they were in a doctor’s waiting room. Barsine pulled me down beside her and held my hand. I was still crying. Plexis wouldn’t look at me, Lysimachus looked apprehensive, and the soldiers all seemed in high spirits.
The woman went into another room and drew a heavy curtain behind her. After a few moments she called out in a strange voice muffled by the curtain, ‘Who asks Apollo first?’
Barsine dug her elbow into my ribs, but I shook my head. ‘You go first,’ I sobbed.
She stood up and with a shy smile asked, ‘Will I have Iskander’s son, O Mighty One?’
The old woman answered, still in her weird voice, ‘Yes. You will have a son in nine moons’ time.’
Barsine gave me a radiant smile and sat down.
After looking at me for a minute, Lysimachus stood up. ‘Is my fortune to be made?’ he asked.
‘Your fortune will be made at the end of the king’s reign. But beware; in the end, a new acquaintance will be stronger than you.’ The voice was sly.
Plexis was next. He cleared his throat. ‘Will I find the answers I seek?’
The woman cackled. ‘Most handsome one, listen well. You shall go east and east again. You will see the twelve pillars and the sacred river. However, the answers you look for will only be revealed on your deathbed. Don’t seek them too soon.’
Plexis turned white and sat down rather suddenly.
The three soldiers looked at me uncertainly; then they stood up and asked their questions, one after another. The voice told them they would go further than they’d ever dreamed, and that they would all found large, prosperous families. This seemed to satisfy them. They sat down, and then everyone looked at me. I didn’t move, tears running down my face. For this nonsense, my beloved donkey had been killed?
‘I see a stranger in our midst,’ the voice came from behind the curtain. ‘Stand! So that I may see you.’
Barsine pushed me roughly to my feet.
‘Will you not ask a question of me?’ asked the mocking voice.
‘No. I don’t believe in you.’
There was a collective gasp from my companions, and Plexis drew in his breath with a hiss.
‘To believe or not to believe, that is not the question.’ The voice was sly again, and teasing. ‘You have come from farther than anyone here can imagine, and you will have the chance to return. However, to return you must sacrifice a human life: one living man. A donkey is just an animal with no soul, but you must kill a man with a soul. I see past the ice in your heart. Didn’t you know?’ There was a dry chuckle. ‘Here is a riddle for the Ice Queen. The king is dead, long live the king.’ A silence greeted these words. We all looked at each other, perplexed.
‘I don’t like riddles,’ I snapped, more angry and miserable than confused.
‘I’d love to stay and chat,’ said the voice, with something very like regret in it. ‘I too have questions to ask that only you may answer. Grant me one, just one, and I will tell you about your son.’
The blood drained from my face and my heart thumped painfully. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Will my name be remembered? Is my name still on people’s lips?’
‘What do you mean?’ I was confused. What was the old woman’s name anyway? ‘What name?’
‘Apollo. I am here, and I want to know. Answer me, child of the future. Answer me now, for soon I will vanish and the centuries will bury me in their dust.’
At first I thought the woman was talking about herself, but a shiver run down my spine. My head tingled. ‘It can’t be ...’
‘There are things you will never be able to explain. Just answer me, if you will. Do you know the name Apollo? Have you heard of me once before, perhaps as a whisper? Perhaps in some long, lost song? Do they still sing about me? Answer me ... please.’
The voice was plaintive, and for some reason I saw Darius’s tragic face in my mind. The deposed king, a fallen angel. I thought of the Apollo space programme. Tears pricked my eyes. ‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘Your name is spoken all the way to the moon, but it has nothing to do with you any more.’
There was a deep silence while my words were considered, and then the voice came again, calm and oddly quiet. ‘Well. I suppose I had to ask. Do you see how similar we are? The gods and men.’
‘My baby,’ I breathed. ‘You promised.’
‘You shall find him in the sacred valley. Guard him well. He will find the lost soul.’
After that, there was no more sound, except for harsh breathing coming from behind the curtain. I was shaking uncontrollably, but no one would look at me or touch me.
‘Apollo asked you a question!’ Lysimachus shook his head in awe.
‘Don’t ever speak to me about it again,’ I said fiercely.
We left in silence. The carefree group that had crossed the stream was now dirty, bloodstained, and weary. I walked behind everyone else. I was angry at the old woman, angry with Lysimachus, and most of all, angry at myself.
We passed the bush where Plexis had hung his cloak to dry. He took it and draped it over my shoulders, leaving his arm over them.
I buried my head on his shoulder and sobbed bitterly. All the tears in the world wouldn’t bring back my donkey or stop the slow, inexorable march of time. The king is dead. Long live the king.
‘You seem to like crying on me,’ said Plexis, and he almost sounded pleased.
I raised my face. ‘I was so foolish. I thought that I could be happy here, but I can’t. I have to leave. Will you help me?’
‘What do you mean?’ He took a corner of my tunic and wiped my face.
‘You were right the other night. I can’t stay here. I’m a stranger and will never understand your customs. I’ll just be in the way.’
‘You’re married to Iskander,’ he said. ‘You’re my queen. You have to go where Iskander tells you to go, and stay if he asks you to stay.’
‘And what about you?’
He looked amused. ‘Didn’t you hear the oracle? I will go east with Iskander to the sacred river, wherever that is.’
‘But you love him. Won’t it tear you apart, being near him?’
‘No. No, I don’t think so. I think that just loving him and being near him is enough for me. If you can do it, so can I.’
‘But we’re not at all alike,’ I said. ‘Iskander won’t mind if I leave. He hardly notices me any more.’
He smiled. ‘I think you’re wrong about that, and I think you’re wrong about Iskander. He’s more than you think.’
‘He’s more than anyone thinks,’ I said.
We joined the others, waiting beneath the shade of a tree. The afternoon was getting very hot, and my stomach growled. ‘What's for lunch?’ I asked Barsine. I noticed the soldiers gathering wood to light a fire.
‘We're going to cook your donkey,’ she said, matter-of-factly.
She wasn’t being callous. She honestly thought it had been a great honour for my poor little donkey to be sacrificed to Apollo.
I sat some distance away, watching as the soldiers grilled steaks and served them on fresh leaves in the guise of plates. I shook my head and refused to eat, but my ire had gone. I felt empty, depressed, and even a bit frightened. How had the old woman known my nickname, the Ice Queen? How had she known about the baby? And why call me a child from the future?
My head ached, and I rested it against my arms. I wished I’d never gone to that place. I tried to forget, but the words ‘human sacrifice’ played themselves over and over. I could return, she had said. Return to my own time? How was it possible? Whom would I have to sacrifice? Why? What did she mean when she said my son could find a lost soul? Where was the sacred valley? And why hadn’t she spoken of the child I carried? I was sitting in the sun but I couldn’t get warm. Was it really Apollo who’d spoken to me? How was it possible? The questions jumbled and clashed in my aching head. I put my hands on my temples and pressed hard, willing the pain away. Where was Usse when I needed him?
The Road to Alexander Page 20