‘Pretending to be God?’ Alexander sat heavily on the bed and stared up at me. ‘You, of all people, telling me that? I see you’re blushing. Good, so you do see the irony of your statement.’
‘I only meant that you could maybe do a bit of explaining. Call your men together and give one of your speeches, you do that so well. They want to see you; they love you and want to follow you. But if you close yourself off from them, they will be hurt, then angry, and then they will refuse to follow.’ I looked at him pleadingly.
He studied my face for a few minutes, then looked down at his feet. He wiggled his toes. ‘They really love me?’ he asked, looking up again.
‘What do you think?’
‘I wasn’t sure, you know, after last night. It came as such a shock.’
‘I know.’ I sat next to him and touched his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve already written a speech, and I was going to give it before we broke camp.’ His mobile mouth twitched.
‘You did?’
‘Yes, I wasn’t just going to drag my men around after me like an old sack. Or a gag of geese.’
‘A gaggle.’
‘Yes, nice word. I think you worry too much, Ashley of the Sacred Sandals. You worry and fret like an old mother hen.’ He took my hand and pulled me down on the bed next to him. He started to take off my tunic, not heeding Brazza who was packing the rug, or Axiom who was taking down the lamp.
He bared my breasts and then took one in his mouth, sucking on it hard, teasing it with his tongue. I tried to push him away but he was much stronger than I. He took off his own clothes while holding me on the bed. I squeaked, ‘But Alex! We’re not alone!’
‘We will be,’ he said, slipping his hand between my legs. ‘I need you and I want you, Ashley of the Sacred Sandals and Ashley of the Arrow Miracle. You told me that this morning, and you made me want to go on. So now it’s my turn. I can tell you, and I can show you.’ He reared up above me and I saw that what he said was true. His body was ready to take mine for its own. ‘Will you let me?’ he asked softly, and I nodded.
Brazza and Axiom had left, closing the tent flap behind them. Not that it would have mattered. My body reacted to Alexander’s caresses, and my hips lifted up to meet him.
He smiled as we came together.
* * *
His speech was beautiful. Nassar wrote it down, and I have a copy of it somewhere. I don’t need to read it though; I can remember the gist of it.
He gave a great banquet the next night, and the whole camp received meat. Fires burned, and the smell of roasting lamb and oxen filled the air. The men came to the banquet rather silently. They were confused and apprehensive. Rumours were circulating. Alexander waited until everyone had started eating, and then he stood. The cliff behind him amplified his words so that everyone could hear. The speech was long and it went something like this:
‘Hail Iskander’s army! Hail Macedonians, Greeks, Thracians, Persians, Madrians, Ariaspians, Uxions, Cosseens, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Thessalians, Corinthians –etc., etc., etc. I greet you. May your lives be long and all your endeavours crowned with success.’
(Polite applause made by snapping fingers, slapping thighs, clapping or hooting, depending upon the tribe.)
‘I am speaking to you as your king, your commander, and also as your friend. We have gone through much together. You are more my family now than my mother or my father. You are my family, and as such I love and venerate you all.’
(Sounds of approval from the crowd.)
‘We have travelled far, and yet I still have places to go. Faraway places. I hope you will all come with me. But I have not brought you here to talk about that just yet. Rather, I would like to say a few words about what happened yesterday.’
The crowd grew very still.
‘Parmenion was a friend of my father’s. He served him, and he served me. He was like a father to me, and I admired him. He loved me well; I was like a son to him. However, his true son, Philotas, was plotting to kill me. Three times did Liddexis come to tell Parmenion of the plot, and three times did Parmenion ignore him. Finally, out of desperation, Liddexis came into my tent at night, wakened me, and warned me of the plot.
‘Philotas, his mistress Antigone, and his co-conspirator Lycenus, were confronted. Lycenus cut his own throat. Antigone drank poison.
‘Parmenion was a loyal general, and he venerated me. He also loved his son. He had already lost two sons in battles against the Persians. Perhaps you all remember them? Philotas was his last son, and Parmenion could not bear to outlive them all. He made me swear to grant him a wish, and then he asked me to kill him. He said he would be honoured to die by my hand.
‘I did not want to kill him. I swear by Athena, I did not. However, I had sworn to grant his wish. All I could do was make sure he did not suffer. I promise you, he did not suffer.
‘But I did. I had to kill a man I loved because of treason. Therefore I ask all of you now. Before thinking of treason, come and speak with me. Philotas thought, wrongly, that if I were killed, his father would reign and he could return home.
‘Perhaps you want to go back home. I am saying right now, if any soldier wants to leave and return to his home, he may do so immediately. There will be no shame for him. I will understand, and he will be fully paid. I want you all to reflect upon this.
‘Now, while the night is still young, let us dedicate this feast to Parmenion, to Zeus our father, and to Dionysus who gave us wine.’ He raised his golden cup and drank deeply. His soldiers did the same with their cups, and the feast began in earnest.
He’d spoken simply, yet his voice had trembled with intense emotion. I was sitting close to him and I saw the effort he had to make to stand still. His whole body was vibrating with nerves. He was not a man who liked to explain himself. He expected those around him to share his viewpoints and agree with him, but he was an excellent orator when he had to be. He could rouse his men to absolute fever pitch when he needed. Tonight, when he wanted to calm and reassure, he was perfect. He ended on a happy note, with the mention of home and pay. The soldiers nodded sagely, and raised their glasses to him. If they hadn’t understood the part about Parmenion and treason, they understood the notion of rewards and family. Smiles replaced frowns, and the atmosphere cleared even as the clouds moved aside. The stars shone upon us.
Now the crowd was lively and talk was loose and relaxed. Nervous tension had completely disappeared. Laughter ran around the edges of the camp, and the fires gaily threw their sparks into the air.
Alexander sat down beside me and took my hand in his.
‘I meant what I said,’ he told me. ‘If you ever want to leave I will understand.’
‘I will never leave you,’ I said, kissing him softly. ‘I may be on thin ice, but I need you, I love you, and I want you.’ I slipped my hand under his tunic and tweaked his penis.
He jumped. ‘Hey!’
‘And I’m awfully proud of you,’ I whispered in his ear. Alexander actually blushed.
Chapter Twenty-three
Alexander needed reassurance as much as anyone I’d ever known. Perhaps more than others. After the incident with Philotas something in him broke, and he was never the same. But the thing that broke was one of the fragile barriers that separated him from the rest of mankind, and suddenly he opened up. For the first time since I’d met him, he really talked to me.
We’d been travelling steadily for three weeks. The pace he set was gruelling, but the men were used to it and never complained. When we marched, the days all blended into each other so it was hard for me to keep track of time. Days flowed into weeks, and most of the time I had no idea what day it was.
I had always tried to keep track of time by my own calendar with names of the months and days I knew, but it was impossible, and so I drifted gradually into keeping time the Greek way.
Alexander kept all the major celebrations and made numerous sacrifices to the gods. His rel
ationship with them was coloured with ambiguity. The Greeks believed in many gods, and, as I was learning, hundreds of spirits, sprites and nymphs. But for the past hundred years or so, philosophers had been challenging the old beliefs and trying to change them.
The gods were omnipresent and could be swayed by words or sacrifices. Every morning the sun was greeted with a salute. After all, it was Helios, in his golden chariot, and his sister Eos was the dawn. Rain was not rain, but a gift, and the Greeks didn’t say, ‘It’s raining,’ they said, ‘Zeus rains,’ or ‘Zeus thunders.’ Bread was not baked without a prayer of thanks to Demeter, goddess of the harvest. The fire in the fireplace was not lit, water was not fetched, grass was not cut without asking permission of one of the gods. If misfortune followed, it was because the gods were not pleased.
By the time Alexander was educated, there was an important shift in the way people thought about gods. Some people were even professing themselves atheists. Alexander was caught in a time where the changes were not fully developed. The ideas were there, but they were superimposed on the old customs. It was a time of fluid uncertainties, and Alexander hesitated between wanting to appease the gods and wanting to defy them.
He wanted to defy them, because he was sure that his cause was divine in itself. Wasn’t he bringing Greek civilization to the far corners of the world? How could they not appreciate him? Who were they anyway, to meddle in his business? Didn’t Aristotle teach him that the gods were not concerned with human affairs? However, his mother had been a priestess in the temple with the sacred fire, and she believed otherwise. Olympias didn’t take a step in the morning without consulting the oracles.
So who was right?
Deep down, Alexander was an atheist; his only god was himself. But he had been raised by a hysterical woman who thought she had conceived Alexander while visited by the god Zeus. It was flattering, somehow, for him to think he descended directly from a god, especially when there were great heroes in his family. He was torn between pride in himself, for what he had achieved, and pride in the idea he was partly divine. The two thoughts were diametrically opposed, and yet he held tightly to both ideas, somehow forcing them together and combining them in his ‘self’. He loved the sacrifices more for their celebration than for their reasons. He was born in the month of Hekatombaion, late July. He claimed to be the sign of the Lion, ‘The first day of the Lion,’ as he’d say proudly. He was born in the middle of a raging storm, full of the thunder of Zeus and the rain of Zeus, which made it doubly auspicious.
‘And do you know what else?’ he asked me. We were both riding, which we didn’t do very often, but I had a stomach ache so had been lagging behind, and he’d felt the urge to ride Bucephalus. He’d gone galloping around all morning, and now he was cooling his stallion off. He joined me at the end of the line, where I was plodding along on my little grey mare.
‘No, what?’ I tried to put polite interest into my voice, but I was in a terrible mood. My period had come, and with it cramps and irritability. Because of my miscarriage, and the fact I was so thin, I hadn’t had my period in over six months, so I hadn’t been expecting it and didn’t know how to cope with it. I was in a land with no tampons or feminine hygiene napkins, and since I lived in a tent with only men, I was embarrassed about asking them what to do. It made me grumpy.
‘While my mother was writhing in labour, trying to expel me from her womb, you’ll never guess what flew into the temple to take shelter.’
‘What did?’
‘Come on, take a guess!’
There’s nothing worse than someone cheerful when you’re in a bad mood. You just want to push them off their clouds. I pretended to think. ‘Bats?’
‘Bats! No, something incredible. Something that made my mother and the priests say, “This baby is going to be something special!”.’
‘Let’s see. Something that flies at night, but wasn’t a bat.’
‘There were two of them,’ he reminded me.
‘Moths? Two big moths?’
He snorted. ‘No! You’re not being serious. What’s so special about moths?’
‘What’s so special about you?’ I asked, making a face as another cramp twisted my stomach. ‘Being born in a rainstorm? Having things come inside to get out of the rain? Having a crazy mother?’
He was speechless, staring at me. His face fell. His bubble had burst, and I felt awful. I reined in my pony.
‘I’m sorry, I’m being terrible. Will you sit here with me for a while? My back aches, my legs are sore, and I want a drink. There’s a stream over there, and a shady tree. Let’s rest, and you can tell me about the eagles.’
‘You knew about the eagles?’ He sounded unsure of himself.
‘Of course, everyone does.’ I smiled, trying to appease him. ‘It was an amazing sign. Naturally, everyone was impressed.’
We took our horses’ bridles off and hobbled them, then sat side by side on a fallen log. I was thirsty, so I filled my water flask with fresh water from the stream and sipped it. ‘Do you want some?’
‘Why do you never thank the nymph of the stream, or ask to take her water?’ he asked me.
‘Does one have to speak aloud?’ I countered. ‘Don’t you think that, if there is a divinity here, and she’s watching me, she’ll see how much I appreciate the water? She should be able to read my thoughts and hear my silent thanks.’
‘Sarcasm displeases the gods,’ he said.
‘Sarcasm displeases people who take themselves too seriously,’ I quipped.
His fingers were laced over his knees, his parti-coloured eyes staring into mine. I was suddenly shocked to see tears. He didn’t move, didn’t try to hide. He sat there, and looked at me and cried. My own bubble burst with a whoosh.
‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ I said miserably. ‘It makes me feel like I’ve kicked a puppy.’
‘What gives you the right to act so high and mighty?’ he asked suddenly. ‘What gives you the right to pass judgment? Who are you? How can you say my mother is crazy?’
‘Ah, the crux of the matter,’ I murmured.
He looked startled then bit his lip, frowning. ‘Yes, the crux of the matter.’
‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I take it back about your mother.’
‘Don’t you think I knew about all that?’ he asked. He looked bleakly at the swift stream. ‘Don’t you think I heard the rumours growing up? I was there. I was there and saw everything. My mother never hid anything from me, even though sometimes I would have given my right arm to be blind and deaf.’
He looked up at me, his face desolate. ‘When I was a little boy I believed she was the Goddess of Love. She used to laugh when I called her that, but she didn’t contradict me. Later, when the priest taught me about Aphrodite, I was whipped because I dared say I saw her every day. I was five years old, and I didn’t quite understand.
‘At first my father and my mother loved each other well. Everything was as it should be. Then he married another woman, and my mother told me she feared for her life. She fled to Epirus with me. I spent three years with my mother’s family in Epirus, then, when I was ten, my father sent for me. I went back and was educated in Macedonia, and then Greece. My mother came every now and then to make sure I was being raised properly, and I know that each time she caused trouble in the court.
‘She was so lovely. How could my father resist her? But he did. He was terrified of her. He would leave to go to war, then she would visit, and my new brother or sister would mysteriously die. I was twelve years old when I realized she was actually killing the babes. Do you think I liked that? Knowing she was mad? Yet with me she was sweetness and light, all the good things possible, and she let me touch her, and she showed me how to pleasure her and myself.’ He shuddered to a halt, breathing hard.
I just opened my flask and closed it, turning it in my hands, watching the tiny minnows in the stream. The silence dragged on. I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
‘I love
d her and hated her. I think that the reason I’m who I am is only because of her. I’m doing everything I can to get as far away from her as possible. I’m trying to amass more power than she, a goddess, can ever have. To avenge each babe I must kill a hundred thousand enemies. To honour each brother and sister I never had, I must build great cities. For my father, I can never do enough.’ His voice was a hard whisper. He was having trouble breathing again; his face was congested, and I wondered if he were asthmatic.
‘Alex?’ I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. ‘None of that is your fault. You were caught between your parents, but that doesn’t mean you are like them. It was just circumstances, and you must try not to let them ruin your life. You’re a good person, a great person. Why, you’re Alexander the Great, don't you know?’
The look on his face was so terrible. It was like that of a dying man. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly, taking time to draw each breath. ‘And I don’t know who you are. Will you tell me, Ashley? Please?’
I closed my eyes. It was taking all my willpower not to break down and tell him, but how could I? If I loved him at all, I couldn’t tell him. I shook my head dumbly.
He stood up and untied his horse. Without a word or a glance, he left. He was nearly purple with the effort of breathing. I knew Usse would give him something to ease him, but nothing Usse had could ease my pain. I curled up under the tree next to the brook. I decided to stay there, under the tree, for ever. I would just let myself die. It would be easier than seeing Alexander tearing himself apart.
What I’d seen in Alexander’s face was the knowledge that he was mortal, the knowledge that he was going to have to pay for the sins of his fathers, and the realization that he was nothing. Nothing but dust upon the face of the earth.
Chapter Twenty-four
Plexis came back for me. He would always come back for me. He had been watching Alexander, as he always watched him. He watched him leave in high spirits and come back suicidal. He divined some sort of problem with me, since I was nowhere to be seen, and once he’d made sure Alexander was all right, he rode back to find me.
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