Scythian Trilogy Book 3: Funeral in Babylon

by Max Overton

  Nikometros shook his head. "Too dangerous. Antipatros is too powerful and controls the home army. If he thinks he or his sons are in danger he might rebel. No, the king will keep Kassandros here where he can keep an eye on him. Later, when General Krateros gets back to Macedon to take over the Regency...well, maybe then."

  Caius stopped in his tracks. "A man with everything to lose," he muttered to himself. "Desperate and filled with hate. I must talk to him."

  "I'm sorry," said Nikometros, turning back. "You said something?"

  "No." Caius shook his head, catching up to his companion. "Nothing at all."

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Summer came and the heat increased daily. At a time when the kings of Persia would be enjoying cool mountain heights in Ekbatana, Alexander held his court in lowland Babylon, by the swamps of the Euphrates, attending to affairs of state and readying his army and fleet for the coming expedition.

  Alexander rose at dawn most days, sacrificed to the gods in one of the myriad temples in the city, then spent the bulk of the day planning with his generals, meeting with his court officials or sitting in the throne room listening to petitions. No business was too great or too trivial for the king not to take an interest. He sat for hours at a time, breaking only for hurried meals or to snatch a cup of cooled wine or iced spring water. At dusk, he bathed in the cool pools fed by conduit from the river, enjoyed a light supper and sat up to midnight with friends.

  Nikometros now commonly attended on the king. Perdikkas pushed him forward, giving him more vital duties, trusting him with greater secrets, using him in his play for power among the friends of Alexander. Consequently, Nikometros often found himself with the other trusted officers of Alexander as he attended to state affairs.

  This particular afternoon, the business concerned last minute preparations for the departure of the fleet. Niarchos fretted, worried that the last of the stores would not be found in time for the sailing in three weeks. Alexander, anxious to placate his old friend and admiral, issued a barrage of orders and sent officers and messengers scurrying to find the requisite items.

  "Rope?" exclaimed Alexander. "Surely you have enough rope? You must have enough already to bind the whole city."

  "And what do I do if I run out off the wastelands of Arabia?" asked Niarchos morosely. "I can't see us finding replacements in that stinking midden."

  "Very well, you shall have as much as you need." Alexander looked around at his Council. "Well, where do we find it? The city is scoured clean."

  "There are other cities," commented Eumenes. "Send to Susa or Ekbatana."

  "We have no time. The fleet sails in three weeks."

  "What about local supplies?" asked Ptolemy. "Fishermen on the river perhaps. If a thousand fishermen could each find a single coil..."

  "Good. It's worth a try, Alexander," said Perdikkas. "I'll see to it." He beckoned Nikometros and gave him his orders. Nikometros in turn, hurried over to where Timon stood with the Household behind the throne.

  "Timon, we must find rope and lots of it. Ask around the local fishermen. See if any will part with..."

  "I heard the general, sir," interrupted Timon. "If you'll excuse me I'll attend to it." He turned to leave.

  Nikometros flushed. "Timon..." He hesitated and lowered his voice. "Timon, why do you persist? I said I'm sorry if I offended you."

  "You haven't offended me, sir," said Timon stiffly. "I'll take Antiphanes to help me...with your permission."

  Nikometros nodded. "Do so then." He accepted the salutes of the two aides and turned back to the conference.

  The meeting dealt with another dozen or so items, individuals being sent off on a variety of errands. The Household remained motionless behind the throne, attentive to the needs of the Great King. The court eunuchs kept their watchful eyes on the proceedings, sending for citron-water, perfumed towels and great ostrich-plumed fans to move the heavy moist air.

  At last, Alexander pushed himself back and stretched, taking off the Mitra and running his fingers through sweat-dampened hair. "I think we need a break, gentlemen," he said, getting to his feet. "If you'll join me, we'll have some wine." He led the way into a cool inner room where servants immediately brought iced citron and wine.

  Nikometros caught the eye of prince Mardesopryaxes, standing with the other Persian dignitaries and beckoned him over. They stood in the doorway of the inner room, sipping on draughts of watered wine and half-listening to the relaxed conversation within.

  The Household relaxed too, the dignitaries drifting off to another room, leaving the eunuchs standing around in groups, chattering.

  "I don't suppose you want to come back to the army," said Nikometros with a smile.

  Mardes grinned. "Tempting, Niko, but my estates need me."

  "How long will you stay in Babylon?"

  "Not much longer. I'll see the fleet leave first."

  "Make sure you come to dinner before you leave."

  Mardes nodded. "I'd be delighted, Niko." He sipped his wine, idly gazing at the sight of the Great King arm-wrestling with one of his friends. He shook his head and smiled. "Not something I thought to see. Your king is a breath of fresh air in these stuffy halls."

  "Your king too, Mardes."

  "Yes, but thoroughly Macedonian for all he has adopted many Persian ways. He makes friends...and enemies." Mardes drank again, and then spoke around his cup, softly. "One hears things, Niko."

  Nikometros looked up sharply. "What things? What have you heard?"

  Mardes shrugged and stroked his lustrous black beard, teasing out the springy curls. "Nothing definite, Niko. If I knew anything I'd tell you."

  Nikometros stared at his Persian friend a moment then nodded. "Let me know at once if you hear anything."

  Mardes now paused and looked at Nikometros. "Why do you cultivate this man, Parates?"

  "Parates? You've been talking to Timon."

  "No, but I hear things aren't well between you."

  Nikometros shrugged. "He's hot-tempered. We had a disagreement over the fellow but it'll blow over." His face clouded. "At least it would if Tomyra wasn't so dead set against him."

  "He isn't a man to be trusted."

  "Timon?" Nikometros lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "I'd trust him with my life."

  "Parates," chided Mardes. "I've...made inquiries. He has a reputation in the north, my friend, and not an altogether savoury one."

  "He's a merchant and in business, as in war, you make enemies. I found him to be honest and generous."

  "I have no doubt he can appear so, Niko. But ask yourself, why should a merchant be so interested in a senior Macedonian officer?"

  "I doubt there's any great secret there. He seeks patronage I'm sure, but he also has dealings with the Massegetae. He knows Tomyra."

  Mardes gazed quizzically at Nikometros. "Or her brother, Areipithes?"

  "He explained that. I believe him."

  A motion in the corridor caught Nikometros' eye and he glimpsed a man in ragged clothes slip into the audience chamber. Nikometros started forward then turned when a hand gripped his arm. One of his aides passed a scroll and he looked down at it, hesitating.

  A wailing started in the audience chamber, an ululating lamentation that raised the hair on Nikometros' neck. It gained in volume, a wordless howl of anguish echoing out into the corridors and catching the attention of the king and his friends.

  "What in Hades?" breathed Nikometros, dropping the scroll. He ran forward and stopped at the entrance to the audience chamber, for a moment uncertain as to what was wrong.

  Seated on the throne of the Great King, a look of crazed intentness on his face was the man dressed in ragged clothes. Around him the court eunuchs stood or knelt, lifting their arms and their voices to the heavens with every sign of grief.

  Nikometros gaped at the man then at the eunuchs. From behind him came an exclamation of horror from Mardes. "Why don't they remove him?" asked
Nikometros, moving forward once more.

  "They...they cannot," stammered Mardes. "It would unman the kingdom if eunuchs freed the throne."

  "Then by the gods, I will," roared Nikometros. He leapt forward, joined a moment later by two or three other officers. They hauled the man to his feet then hurled him sprawling to the marble floor of the hall. Nikometros whipped his sword out and pressed the point to the man's throat. The man looked up at the officers with a dazed expression. He blinked and ventured a hesitant smile.

  Alexander walked into the chamber with his friends crowding around him. "What's going on?"

  One of the officers stepped over to his monarch and saluted. "Sir, we found this man sitting on the throne." He glanced over at the eunuchs. "They weren't doing anything, sir, so we did. What do you want us to do with him? Kill him?"

  The Persian dignitaries heard the commotion and joined the crowd around the throne. "Sire, you must," said one earnestly.

  "Indeed, this is a dreadful omen, O Great One. You must avert heaven's wrath by putting him to death."

  Alexander frowned. "Let him up." He waited until the man regained his footing and was dragged to face him. He stared into the man's vacant eyes. "Who are you? Who sent you?"

  The man smiled, his eyes far off, but he said nothing.

  "Kill him, Alexander," said Ptolemy. "It's necessary."

  "Put him to the question," replied Alexander. "I must know if this was planned or if he acted alone." He watched as the man was hauled away. "Wait until I get there before questioning him."

  Alexander turned back to the throne and the mob of people around it. "Come," he said. "We have work to do." He picked up a scroll and seated himself, calling for the next petitioner. Gradually, the room came back to a semblance of order while the king continued to conduct the business of the day as if nothing had happened.

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Upriver from Babylon, on the eastern bank, spread a huge walled area. The Persian idea of paradise encompassed a vast park and garden--close-cropped meadows, orchards and small groves of trees throwing deep and cool shadows. Gravel paths wound between fountains, lakes and flowering plants and shrubs of all types. Dotted throughout this idyllic setting were small pavilions, open to the fresh river breezes. An army of groundskeepers, gardeners and servants kept the place in a constant state of readiness and near perfection. Yet, despite the array of humanity dedicated to preserving the paradise, one could walk all day among the flowers and trees, feed swans and water fowl on the lakes and listen to the peacocks calling in the groves without sighting a single person.

  Alexander frequented this paradise from time to time but less so as the pressures of the upcoming expedition took hold. Rather than see its delights wasted, he encouraged his friends to use the facilities.

  So it was that Nikometros and Tomyra found themselves in one of the pavilions while dusk fell on a hot, humid summer night. They sat side by side on a broad loving couch and looked out over a meadow toward a grove of trees. Small flashes of yellow-green light drifted over the foliage in the gathering darkness.

  Nikometros slipped his arm around his wife's shoulder and leaned his head on her shoulder, savouring the scent of her hair. "We've come a long way in the last year or so, my love," he murmured.

  Tomyra smiled and lifted her hand to caress her husband's clean-shaven cheek. "Yes, Niko, but we have further to go."

  Nikometros sat up, his hand slipping away as he looked at Tomyra quizzically. "Do you speak generally or does...does the Goddess speak within you?"

  Tomyra took his hand and raised it to her lips before speaking. "Both, dear Niko." She looked up at him. "We won't stay in Babylon, though we came for a purpose. The world turns on Babylon but your future...our future, lies elsewhere."

  "Well of course. The army leaves in a few weeks and I'll go with it. You too. I won't leave you behind."

  Tomyra smiled and turned back to contemplation of the dusk. "Do you remember the nights along the Oxus River, Niko? When my 'Owls' patrolled with your 'Lions'?"

  Nikometros grinned and put his arm around Tomyra's shoulders again. "I remember nights alone with you in a small bivouac. I remember passion and fulfillment." He pushed back her long black hair with his free hand and kissed her ear tenderly.

  "I wish I hadn't been a priestess. I could have gone with you openly and conceived in love."

  "You always have my love."

  "You know what I mean. I'd give anything for my first child to be ours together, made in love."

  "Starissa is mine, Tomyra. Not of my body maybe, but of my heart."

  "I know, Niko. I've seen you together." Tomyra sat silently, leaning up against her husband as darkness deepened outside the pavilion. At last, she put her hand out and stroked her husband's leg. "I would have another child, Niko. One of your body as well as your heart." She turned and kissed her husband, feeling passion swell and Niko's excitement rise.

  He eased her back on to the broad couch and loosened her robes. He kissed her body, caressing smooth skin for long minutes before slipping out of his tunic. Darkness enfolded them as they joined and, for a time, they moved together in love. Clouds gathered on the western horizon and thunder grumbled in the distance.

  Afterward, they lay together in the darkness. The moon rose golden behind the trees and the fireflies fled, unwilling to contest the power of her light. The breeze from the river, running before the thunderclouds, cooled the air, caressing their naked bodies.

  Tomyra snuggled closer and drew her robes over them both. "There will be a child," she murmured softly.

  Nikometros chuckled. "Is that the woman speaking or the Goddess?"

  Tomyra smiled, unseen in the darkness. "The Goddess tells me I'll have another child. The woman wants it to come from this perfect time."

  "Then let us hope. I'd like a son to raise. A strong son to take his place in Alexander's world empire."

  "Yes, a man strong of limb and great of heart," laughed Tomyra. "We can name him for your father."

  "Perhaps not a good idea, dear love. Not politic. But we shall find him a good name nonetheless. One that will become known."

  They held each other close in the darkness until passion mounted once more. Then, throwing back the robe, they came together again, clothed only in golden moonlight.

  "Just to make sure," panted Nikometros as he rolled off. "The boy must have stamina."

  Tomyra drew her robe over them once more, feeling the cool of the night breezes. "I'm thirsty, Niko. Do we have wine?"

  "I'll get you some." Nikometros kissed her and moved, pivoting to his feet. When he passed the opening of the wide doors to the meadow, he noted the first scudding clouds of the coming storm assaulting the moon-washed sky. He padded naked across the moonlit room; a shadow merging with the shapes of dimly discerned furniture. A few moments later he returned bearing two cups. He handed one to Tomyra then drank thirstily from his own.

  Tomyra sat up and slipped her robe on before drinking. She sipped, savouring the wine, enjoying the lassitude and sense of well being flowing through her. "I think I'll dismiss Petis. It's high time I took a hand in Starissa's upbringing."

  Nikometros nodded. "I'd keep her on but I think it's a good idea for you to see more of her. She needs her mother."

  "For a long time, I couldn't bring myself to love her, Niko. I must make up for the time I lost. She needs instruction in the ways of the Earth Mother."

  "She's young yet, my love." Nikometros grinned. "It'll be a while before she can be schooled."

  "It's never too soon to learn about the Goddess." Tomyra paused, considering. "I'll need Bithyia's help, even after the birth of her own child. We must heal the breach there."

  A flicker of light lit up the room, followed by blackness and, several moments later, a ripple of thunder.

  Nikometros frowned. "Timon is set against us, I fear. He considers himself slighted because you believe the words of Parates
over his."

  "I don't disbelieve him. Timon's an old and trusted friend but surely he must see that the Goddess would warn me if there was anything amiss with Parates?"

  "Even I don't comprehend how the Goddess talks to you, love. How much less he." Nikometros sat down beside her again. "Explain it to him. Show him you value his friendship."

  Tomyra nodded. "Yes. It's necessary. I'll do so tomorrow, when we return to the city." She fastened her robe and stood up. "Now, I'm hungry. Let us see what provisions were supplied."

  Nikometros rose with her and, naked still, walked across to the tables along the far wall. "It's darker; the moon deserts us. We need a light. I'll fetch a lamp from the next room." He disappeared and returned a few moments later bearing a small earthenware lamp. The flame flickered in the cool breeze running before the storm, casting a warm buttery glow over their surroundings.

  "Here," said Tomyra, handling platters of food. "Poultry, bread." She sniffed. "Goat's cheese." She arranged some onto a plate and walked back to the couch, Nikometros following with the lamp. "I suppose it's all right to eat it. No chance it was tampered with?"

  "What, here?" replied Nikometros. "In the king's paradise? Not a chance. The place is well guarded and maintained by the most trusted servants." He cut off a hunk of bread with a knife and bit into it.

  Sitting on the broad loving couch with the plate between them, they picked through the food and sipped from cups of wine. The lamp, set on a small side table, burned strongly, throwing Tomyra's robed body and Nikometros' naked one into sharp relief. Moths, attracted to the light, fluttered and spiraled to their deaths. Every now and then a large sphingid moth raced in from the darkness, battered at the flame for a moment before again seeking the coolness of the night. Lightning flickered outside, taunting the thunder.

  "We have a problem with Tirses and his men, too," commented Nikometros around a mouthful of meat. "I think I'll have to send them back to Scythia."

  "You cannot do that," objected Tomyra. "Parasades would kill them."

  "Not if I send him word, explaining why."