Chants to Persephone: The Future of the World Hangs on a Knife's Edge - and Only a Human Sacrifice Can Save It

by Jennifer Macaire

  Alexander didn’t mind. Actually, after spending ten years living in a tent with five other people, I didn’t mind too much either.

  Hardly anyone slept that first night in our new house. Cleopatra, unused to her new surroundings, kept waking up and crying. When I got up to nurse and change her, I fell and sprained my wrist. Alexander leapt up to help me, forgot where Millis had put his pallet, and tripped over him.

  Axiom was afraid he’d forgotten to dampen the fire correctly and got up in the middle of the night. Usse thought Axiom was a robber and tackled him in the dining room. Chirpa screamed because she thought Usse had been wounded. Nearchus ran out of his room, terrified that the house was being ransacked, and tripped over a toy nearly breaking his knee. He howled, waking the neighbours, who started yelling.

  Paul and Chiron, frightened by the din, woke Brazza, who was deaf and hadn’t heard anything. He went out to investigate and managed to calm everyone down, including the neighbours, by bringing them a jug of wine with a note from Usse, apologising for the ruckus.

  Plexis slept through everything.

  Next day we staggered into the garden where Axiom and Chirpa were serving breakfast. Nearchus limped. Axiom had a black eye. Usse had a lump on his head. Chirpa had dark circles under her eyes, and the boys yawned widely. Alexander and Millis had bruises where they’d collided during the night, and I cradled my swollen wrist and yawned with exhaustion. Cleopatra had finally dropped off to sleep just as dawn was breaking.

  ‘Good morning everyone,’ I said wryly.

  ‘Good morning.’ Usse winced as he sat down. Chirpa made a clicking sound with her tongue and handed us cups of fresh orange juice.

  ‘What a terrible night. I can’t believe that we slept crowded on a tiny ship or squeezed into a tent, yet we can’t seem to sleep in a spacious house,’ I said.

  Alexander shrugged. ‘It’s like getting used to civilian life after the army. It will take a while.’

  Plexis stared at us, an expression of puzzlement on his handsome face. ‘What happened? You spend one night in a decent house, and you all look like you’ve been in a battle.’

  When the sun was not so high and the city was cooler, Chirpa, Plexis, and I went shopping. I wanted to get clothes for everyone, Plexis had to stop at the bank, and Chirpa needed to go to the marketplace.

  We went to the bank first, so we could get money. Plexis counted out his silver, giving some to me and Chirpa, and putting the rest in his belt. Chirpa put her money in her mouth.

  At the market, the biggest news was about Alexander’s death. It was all anyone could talk about.

  ‘Great Iskander is dead!’ a newscaster called out loudly. We dropped a few coins in his pouch and stood back. The newscaster took a sip of beer and wiped his lips. ‘What do you want to hear first?’ he asked. ‘The prices or the latest news?’

  ‘The prices,’ said Plexis, always money-minded.

  ‘Very well. Silver and gold have gone up since the Great King Iskander’s death. Grain and cotton are stable. Bread is selling at a quarter of an obol, olive oil is five obols a jar, a goat will fetch two drachmas, and a suckling pig is three drachmas. Let’s see, there’s a sale on parrots by the temple, the hair ribbon stand is by the fountain, and a caravan from Tyre just arrived with fish.’

  ‘Fish?’ Plexis wrinkled his nose. ‘Why would they bring fish? We’re right on the water, and Tyre is two weeks’ march from here!’

  The man peered closely his parchment and gave a laugh. ‘You’re the first to catch that one. I’m sorry, it says cedar planks.’

  ‘How can you confuse fish and cedar planks?’ Plexis asked with a frown.

  ‘Well, it’s an honest mistake. Look at this writing! It’s all over the place. How can you expect me to read that?’

  ‘It is illegible,’ conceded Plexis. ‘Who wrote it?’

  ‘I did. But it was after the party last night at the new consul’s house. I was invited so I could write about it in the Society column.’

  ‘The Society column? Will you read that too?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m afraid that all I wrote is “Party, consul’s house, and don’t forget your … something.”’

  The man frowned at the parchment and turned it over. ‘Can you read that word?’ he asked Plexis.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Me neither. I must have had too much to drink. I don’t remember anything about the party. It must have been fantastic. Now for the news: the Great Conqueror Iskander is dead. The news from Babylon has been confirmed. His body was being taken to Greece, but rumour has it that Ptolemy Lagos hijacked the funeral cortège and is bringing his body to Egypt.’

  I gasped and Plexis muttered. Chirpa looked at us with round eyes.

  ‘Go on,’ said Plexis.

  The man nodded. ‘In Greece, the lawyer Demosthenes has offered a vote of thanks to whoever poisoned Iskander, and Demades, a Greek orator, said, “Iskander, dead? Impossible, the whole world would stink of his corpse.”.’

  ‘The bastards,’ I swore.

  ‘Do they believe he was poisoned?’ Plexis asked.

  The man shrugged. ‘Some do. Sisygambis is dead. She starved herself. Olympias, the queen mother, has fled to Macedonia. Before leaving she had Iollas, Iskander’s cupbearer, killed.’

  I gripped Plexis’s arm tightly. ‘He was just a child! He was Antipatros’s son!’

  Plexis turned a pale face toward me. ‘Hush,’ he said, ‘let’s hear the rest.’

  ‘Stateira is dead, she was poisoned by Roxanne. It wasn’t proven, of course, but everyone knows it,’ the newscaster added in a confidential tone.

  ‘Oh, no,’ I whispered.

  ‘The goddess, Alexander’s wife Persephone, went back to Hades, taking her children with her. The poor harvest and cold spell are proof of this. The priests are sacrificing heavily, but to no avail. A famine is predicted for Babylon this winter. And for the latest news, Roxanne gave birth to a son she named Alexander.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ I said hoarsely. I turned away. ‘I can’t hear any more. It’s dreadful.’

  Plexis put his arm around my shoulders. His voice was soft. ‘You knew what would happen,’ he said.

  Chirpa put her hand on my arm. ‘Don’t think about it now,’ she said kindly. ‘I saw some pretty cloth over by the fountain. Let’s go see what we can get for the boys.’ Her eyes were dark with pity.

  I nodded, and we turned away. What broke my heart the most was the general air of indifference everyone had for Alexander’s death. Perhaps, because his death was so recent, the full extent of his accomplishments couldn’t be appreciated. But the Greeks’ snide jokes chilled me.

  Shopping took my mind off the news. I bought cloth for everyone. Then we went to the sandal-maker and gave him the villa’s address; he would come to fit shoes for us later that evening. Chirpa ordered a goat and jar of olive oil from a merchant. Plexis bought some wine and fresh fruit. When we finished shopping, we walked back to the villa on the hillside.

  My thoughts drifted back to the newscaster’s stories. I had known beforehand everything that would happen. Well, almost everything. I didn’t know, for example, what we would do now. Alexander wanted to meet Ptolemy, and there were discussions about trading with Carthage or Rome. Right now though, I was glad to settle down in a real house and take care of my children. I wanted them to have a tutor, so Alexander said he’d find one. He’d had Aristotle as his teacher. I wondered if the old man would take Paul for a few years. He had an academy in Athens, but I didn’t know if Alexander would go back to Greece. After hearing the news, I was even more sceptical. The Greeks had always resented Alexander. They thought he and his father were barbarians and were mortified when they found themselves conquered by the Macedonians.

  Back at the villa, I found Alexander in the pool with Paul and Chiron. Brazza was sitting on the lounge chair with Cleopatra.

  Alexander grinned when he saw me. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  I sighed. He’d better hear i
t from me. I told him the news. He was shocked about Iollas and Sis, saddened by the news of Stateira, and furious that his mother and Roxanne had fled.

  ‘So who’s ruling Babylon now?’ he fumed. ‘Honestly, I die for two months and everything goes, what’s that expression you say? Down the train?’

  ‘Down the drain,’ I said, kicking my feet disconsolately in the pool.

  ‘The drain. Thanks. I knew about Ptolemy, by the way. I told him to hijack my funeral cortège.’

  ‘You told him to?’ I stared.

  ‘Well, yes. How do you think we’re going to live? I have no money; the only things I owned belonged to the state except my golden cup, my tent, and a rather nice glass lamp. I asked Ptolemy to bring the cortège to Egypt. That way I can get the gold it contains.’

  I looked askance at my husband. ‘That’s sordid,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘I inherited seven silver cups from my father along with eight thousand soldiers and no way to pay them. Plexis and I were not speaking back then, but he invested his family’s entire fortune in my army, enabling me to buy thirty thousand more men. With that, I defeated Darius and his one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers. That was just the beginning. Now that I’m dead, I have nothing again, except what Plexis wants to give me. But I can’t accept it. Ptolemy is just bringing me what’s mine. Think of it as pay.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ I smiled weakly. ‘There’s more.’

  ‘Oh, you mean, what Demosthenes and Demades are saying about me?’ He chuckled.

  ‘I think that’s terrible!’ I cried.

  ‘So do I, but, Ashley, you can’t expect them to mourn. They weren’t with us on our great adventure. No one else can really understand.’

  Great adventure? I sighed and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. Evening shadows crept over the garden. ‘We’ll talk about this later. Now I think I’d like to see about dinner.’

  I rose and made to leave but Alexander got to his feet, picked me up, and tossed me into the pool.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ I cried, sputtering.

  ‘Just to see if I could.’

  ‘The same reason you conquered Persia or went to India?’ I asked, wading to the steps and taking my tunic off. It was soaking wet. I threw it at Alexander, who dodged.

  His smile was blinding. ‘Why else do anything?’

  Chapter Three

  After a month had gone by, Alexander, Plexis, and I sailed to Memphis. I was uneasy. We were going to meet Ptolemy Lagos, the most mystic and ambitious of all Alexander’s generals. He’d been born in Macedonia, in Pella, but his grandfather had been Egyptian. He’d been sent to study in Egypt and worshipped the Egyptian gods. Like most Egyptians, he believed that Alexander was the son of Amon.

  At the royal palace in Memphis, he met us wearing the crown of the Egyptian rulers and bearing the serpent sceptre, symbol of his powers. He was not yet officially king. Only the priests could anoint him by declaring him the son of Amon, their god. He’d taken over the government though, and was effectively ruling in Alexander’s stead.

  I was nervous. I’d never trusted Ptolemy, but Alexander did, and I’d supposed he knew his generals. Ptolemy stood when we entered the throne room. He waited until we were nearly in front of him, then he removed the crown and laid the sceptre on the empty throne. He bowed very low, touching his forehead to the floor.

  ‘No, my friend, do not prostrate yourself. I am your king no longer.’ Alexander stepped forward and pulled him to his feet.

  ‘You will always be my king.’ He swallowed hard and touched Alexander on the arm. ‘It really is you. My heart is singing with joy and my eyes overflow with happiness.’ It was true. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Alexander was crying too. He embraced his general and then held him at arm’s length. ‘I am so glad to see you. I was worried that you'd have trouble leaving Babylon.’

  ‘No, my men remained faithful to me. You were right to divide the army in the last days.’

  ‘And Seleucos, is he having any trouble?’

  ‘No. I didn’t have to fight him to get your funeral cortège. He escorted me as far as Tyre.’

  ‘Very good. I’m happy to hear that. So what will you do with it now?’

  Ptolemy looked confused. ‘I’m giving it to you,’ he said.

  Alexander nodded. ‘Very well. I will take what’s mine. I only want to be buried in Alexandria. Nothing fancy, just a little tomb.’

  Ptolemy flipped his wrist and smiled. ‘I hear you, Iskander.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t get used to seeing you again. When you died, it was as if the heart of the kingdom stopped beating. The man who took your place, who was he? I’d never seen him before nor had anyone else. He bore only a fleeting resemblance to you.’

  ‘He was a man from another world,’ said Alexander, shrugging. ‘My wife killed him.

  Ptolemy blenched, but he smiled bravely. ‘He looked enough like you to fool most people.’

  I was shaking now. I had tried to forget about the man who had travelled three thousand years through time to interview Alexander on his deathbed. I hadn’t touched him, but because of me, he was dead. I had ordered Usse and Millis to put Alexander into the cold beam of the time traveller, and the beam, regulated for only a certain mass, had rejected the other man, throwing his frozen body against a wall and killing him. I swallowed hard. The memory was making me feel ill.

  ‘Is everything going as planned?’ Alexander’s question to Ptolemy startled me. I raised my head and stared.

  Ptolemy shrugged. ‘There is one thing that we didn’t count on,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Lysimachus. He’s allied himself with Roxanne and has declared war on Cassander.’

  Alexander’s brows drew together in a fierce scowl. ‘If true, it is a surprise. And the child?’

  ‘Roxanne says he’s yours. She’s claimed half of Macedonia and Greece for him.’

  ‘What about my mother?’

  ‘A prisoner of Cassander. He will keep her alive as long as she behaves.’

  Alexander was silent for a while, digesting this. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be concerned, but it still hurts.’ His voice was bleak.

  Ptolemy and I looked at each other. His bald head gleamed like polished wood. His dark eyes were hooded. I noticed a small twitch in his jaw. If I was wary of him, he was twice as wary of me.

  ‘I will not stay long in Memphis,’ said Alexander. ‘There is one more place I would go, and then I will head south. If you have any messages for me, you know where to find me.’

  ‘I want you to stay in the palace,’ said Ptolemy.

  ‘I thank you, my friend, but I will not risk being seen by those of your soldiers who knew me well. It would only confuse things for them, and you are now king of all Egypt. I wish you well in all your undertakings.’ Alexander stood very straight, his hands on Ptolemy’s shoulders.

  ‘I would never have taken Egypt except for your advice.’

  Alexander smiled wryly. ‘Ah, well, I think perhaps you would have thought about it sooner or later, but I’m glad you acted promptly. You took the seal and you have the sceptre.’

  ‘I do, and I have your funeral cortège. I put aside what you wanted. I hope it pleases you. I added more.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Alexander sighed. ‘Now I will go to Siwa to consult the oracle of Amon.’

  ‘I will give orders to accompany you.’

  ‘No, I will go alone this time. I need no guards. I am simply Alexander, not Iskander, king of Greece, Egypt and Persia. That person has truly died.’

  Ptolemy was sombre as he escorted us to the door. ‘Are you sure you won’t stay?’ He sounded almost plaintive.

  ‘I will not put your authority in jeopardy, and that’s what would happen if someone saw me here. So I will bid you farewell once more, my friend, and repeat what I said. May your reign be prosperous and your descendants many.’

  ‘I wanted to ask you one last thing,’ said Ptolemy, wit
h a sideways look in my direction.

  ‘If it is mine to give you, I will give it to you,’ Alexander said with a smile.

  ‘I heard you had a new daughter. I would marry her to my son.’ He spoke in a rush, and I felt my cheeks grow hot.

  Alexander stepped back a pace. ‘She is but three months old,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Say yes,’ begged Ptolemy.

  Alexander cleared his throat. I was busy staunching a sudden rush of blood from my nose. I suffered from nosebleeds when something upset me, and this was very upsetting. Alexander had promised to give Ptolemy what he’d asked for – and he’d asked for our daughter. In those days, words were law. Especially from one king to another.

  ‘I gave my word,’ said Alexander. ‘But you must agree to wait until her eighteenth birthday.’

  ‘I agree.’ Ptolemy smiled broadly. He bowed once more to us and showed us to the door. The sight of my nosebleed, for him, was auspicious. He was emboldened to bid me farewell.

  We walked out. The hallway seemed to stretch on for ever, and I thought we’d never get to the street and fresh air.

  Once outside, I stood on the palace steps and glared at Alexander.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know he would ask for that. I’m sorry, I’m …’

  ‘Shut up!’ I cried. ‘Just shut up! I know you’re sorry. That doesn’t help. So now what? Do we leave Cleopatra here?’

  Surprise showed on his face. ‘No! No, of course not.’ He frowned and looked at his feet. He flushed. ‘We just have to make sure she’s back here for her eighteenth birthday.’

  ‘And what if she falls in love with someone else?’ I hissed. ‘Are you going to be the one to tell her she has to marry a man she’s never seen?’

  ‘I didn’t think of that,’ he admitted.

  ‘Well, I did. What if Ptolemy’s son is a brute? Or if he’s cruel, or, or … oh Alex, how could you?’

  He looked around frantically, but Plexis was nowhere to be seen. He’d dropped us off at the palace and said he was going shopping. Now we had to wait for him on the steps. Two of the guards watched us curiously. ‘Woman problems,’ Alexander said to them with a shrug.