‘I don’t mind about losing my hand. Stop looking as if I’ve lost my life.’ I said. Perhaps I didn’t know what I was saying, I hadn’t really thought of all the repercussions, but I meant it. At least I wanted to mean it. ‘I have to see Paul. I love you all so much, you, Plexis, Axiom, Phaleria, and Nearchus. And Demos, who saved me. I’m still alive; we’re together. Don’t you see that’s what matters to me?’ I felt lightheaded, shaken with relief, knowing that the druids were beaten, that we were safe now.
Alexander gave a short laugh. ‘You always surprise me,’ he said, colour coming back to his cheeks. ‘And if Demos hadn’t been there, you would have lost your life. He always wanted to be a doctor. Thank the gods, he studied medicine on Kos.’
‘Thank the gods,’ I echoed faintly.
‘He operated on Plexis’s arm,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘He’s gaining the use of it again. It will never be as strong, but at least he will be able to use it …’ His voice trailed away and he looked at me, his face sombre. ‘Why, Ashley, why? Was it a trade? Your hand for my soul? We lost so many other precious things. Millis, Yovanix, Cerberus …’
‘Yovanix? He’s dead? When he fought against the druids?’ I felt a stab of sorrow. Our Gaul, our friend, another one gone.
‘Nearchus said that they searched for him and never found him among the dead. Yovanix was gone and so was Voltarrix. Someone said they’d seen them fighting near the river. Nearchus thinks they fell in and were swept away.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. Has your soul been returned? How do you feel?’
‘It has been restored. I can feel now,’ he said. ‘I feel sorrow, sharp pain, joy to have found you again – and a sweetness thinking about the child to come. All those feelings were gone before. I was just an empty shell. Then there was a clap of thunder and everything came rushing back. I remember being in a deep pit, lined with stones, where an old woman touched our hands to see which of us would die first.’ He shuddered. ‘She was a weird woman; blind, and so old her hair was like cobwebs around her ruined face. Her mouth was a toothless gash, and she took my hand and said, ‘This one has no soul. Let him die first, and may his death last forever. Nearchus killed her. He hated her as much as I did.’
I saw his quick shiver and reached out my hand, before remembering it ended in a tight linen bandage. ‘It’s over.’ I said.
‘No, it’s not. We’re still not out of the woods,’ he said, trying to joke, holding my forearm gently in his hand, his thumb stroking the inside of my elbow. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘No, I can’t feel a thing.’
‘Sleep now. Sleep some more, and when we stop, I will be here. I will always be here. I promise.’ Tears glittered on his lashes, but he didn’t try to hide them. He never hid anything from me.
I slept then, because it was what I needed, and I slept deeply, because Alexander was beside me, and he would always be there for me when I needed him.
When I surfaced again, I felt better. My dreams faded, I didn’t even know what they’d been about.
I was lying in a grove of giant ferns. They were tall and curled and waved above my head in a riot of pale, feathery green. The sun was shining through them, making a play of gold and emerald. Spiders’ webs were frail silver threads floating in the breeze. Everything was surrounded by a bright nimbus of light, soft and clear at the same time. The air was balmy; it touched my cheeks in a warm caress. I stretched, wincing because the wound in my side was still sore. I must have made a faint noise, because the ferns suddenly parted and Alexander was there beside me. He held his finger to his lips. ‘Shh,’ he murmured. His eyes were dark with worry.
‘What …?’
‘We’re hiding.’ His voice was little more than a sigh. I nodded to show I understood. There was no sound around us. The birds had hushed. The breeze barely moved the branches above us. The ferns nodded silently, gossamer webs floating in bright silver tatters from their tips. The sun gilded everything, the ferns, the webs, and Alexander’s hair. He lay down beside me and took me in his arms. He held me tenderly, gently, and I felt his ardour; it was like the glow of the sun. My hurts faded, a peaceful serendipity filled me, even more unexpected because of the fear I could feel all around us. I clung to the feeling of deep peace, I clung to Alexander and closed my eyes once more and slept for three days.
They say shock does that to you.
Chapter Fourteen
The Eaters of the Dead wore animal skins and walked as silently as wolves. They followed us, moving quietly and in deadly earnest. Nearchus killed one and we stared at the body. I’d never seen a human quite like him. To me, he looked like a Neanderthal. The cheekbones were low, the jaw heavy, and the skull sloped backwards from prominent brows. His skin was swarthy and his brown hair was roughly braided and tied back with a leather thong. Swirling tattoos covered his arms and chest, and another strange tattoo, a thin black line, divided his face in two.
We glanced uneasily at one another. The women held their children tightly and stayed far away. Only three Roman soldiers were left of thirty-five who had fought for us. They stood next to the women, weapons at hand. Axiom was with us. He’d managed to escape the massacre and found us after three days of wandering through the forest and marsh with the Roman soldiers. Yovanix was still unaccounted for. We dared not wait for him. We pressed on as quickly as possible, the strange tribe pursuing us. Nearchus had been behind us, protecting our rear. He’d surprised a scout and killed him. Now we wondered what they’d do. So far they hadn’t attacked us. This might be the signal they were waiting for.
Demos examined the corpse with interest. ‘I want you to see this,’ he said, as he bared the man’s teeth.
We leaned forward to see. At once, most of us stepped back involuntarily. It was an eerie sight. The canines were huge, overdeveloped, and as sharp as fangs. ‘Do you think he sharpened them, or are they naturally like that?’ Alexander crouched down by the man’s face and looked. ‘Very odd,’ he said.
I was feeling tired again, so I went to sit in the shade of a large hemlock. I was up and around now, though still very weak. A tumble of large boulders was at my back. They led down to the stream where I could see Paul fishing with Axiom and Phaleria. He concentrated, standing on the bank, a long spear in his hand. In an instant his muscles bunched and he threw the spear into the water and pulled out a wriggling fish. The fish flashed silver and bronze, water droplets scattering like diamonds, and Phaleria grabbed it and put it in a deep wicker basket. It was almost full. Soon we would eat and move on.
Phaleria started to clean the fish while Paul went back to his pose on the bank. My son was ten now, very tall for his age and trim. The resemblance to his father was striking, from the proud nose to the shape of his body. He was well proportioned, finely balanced and strong. His hair was blonder than Alexander’s, but both had fair skin that tanned easily. Paul’s eyes were a deep, navy blue. They were stormy now, stirred by a tempest of emotions.
All Paul’s movements were hard and stiff. Axiom went to him and put his hand on his arm. For a minute I thought Paul would shake it off, but then he seemed to slump forward. His head fell to his chest and the spear slipped out of his hands. Axiom spoke to him earnestly. I couldn’t hear what he said. I was too far away, but I knew what he was trying to tell him. That it wasn’t his fault. That he mustn’t torture himself. That nothing was changed between us. He was trying to tell Paul the same thing I had, but Paul wouldn’t listen. He was determined to punish himself. I found myself wondering if we should punish him; perhaps it would make it easier for him to bear. I had no desire to do so. I had no idea what to do. Paul needed to find his own equilibrium.
We had spoken together, Paul, Alexander, Plexis, and I. It was a difficult conversation for many reasons. Part of the difficulty lay in the mentality of the time. The notion of revenge and honour was woven into all the stories children learned from their infancy. In them, children learned that heroes would rather die than lose thei
r honour. They took revenge whenever they felt slighted, and often had the benediction of the gods.
Paul had grown up listening to The Iliad and The Odyssey; two stories that were beautiful, but bloody. It was difficult for him to understand my point of view. I could step back and look. However, I was looking from further back than anyone was at that time. I had three thousand years of distance separating me from their gods and stories. Paul was different. He was also young. A child usually has enough problems coping with growing up. Paul had to cope with growing up alone as a small child, with kidnapping and murder, with the death of his beloved dog, and now he felt betrayed by everyone he’d always trusted.
Paul had come to see me when I felt better. He approached me cautiously, following just behind Alexander and Plexis, using them as a shield. We sat close together in a small clearing. Nearchus and Demos were not far away, standing guard.
Paul had trouble meeting my eyes. I think that hurt me more than the blow had. I told him this and he looked up at me, surprised.
‘I’m sorry I tried to kill Demos, I wasn’ t thinking. It was a foolish thing to do, and there isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t regret it. Can you ever forgive me?’ he asked. He didn’t know what else I had wanted to tell him. It threw him completely off balance when I spoke.
‘Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry I tried to grab you. I thought you were going to kill Plexis, and he was wounded. Demos would have been able to take care of himself,’ I added wryly.
‘But, why would I have tried to kill Plexis?’ Paul was sitting next to him and he patted Plexis on the shoulder. ‘I love Plexis, he’s my second father. You know that.’
‘Because I was responsible for your mother’s kidnapping in Arbeles,’ said Plexis. He looked intently at Paul. ‘It’s something I regret doing. There’s hardly a moment I don’t regret it. Can you understand that?’
‘Why?’ whispered Paul, recoiling away from him.
‘Because of the oracle.’ Plexis spoke seriously. Paul stiffened. He understood oracles even more than I did. ‘The oracle said that your mother could destroy the world. Well, it didn’t say so as clearly as that, but that’s what I understood. I wanted to save Iskander. I’m sorry, Paul.’
Paul looked at his feet. Two tears fell from the tips of his long lashes and trickled down his smooth cheeks. I reached forward to brush them away but he jerked backwards. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me, Mother?’ he whispered, his voice breaking.
‘Your mother didn’t know,’ said Plexis. ‘She thought it was Olympias behind the whole thing.’
‘She was,’ I said angrily. ‘Stop taking all the blame for yourself.’
Plexis half smiled and shook his head. ‘No. I must take the blame. For one thing, I’m here, not Olympias. You lost your hand because you thought you were defending me.’
‘It doesn’t matter any more. None of it does.’ I sat up straighter and tried to chase the fatigue from my voice. ‘Look at me, Paul. What happened was an accident, but it does go to show that you have to learn three things in life. You must learn to wait, to let years go by sometimes if need be. Then you must learn to step back and look at the whole picture. Lastly, you must learn to forgive. Start by forgiving yourself, then, hopefully, you will be able to forgive me and Plexis for what happened.’
Paul was shaking his head slowly from side to side. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘so sorry.’
‘I am alive,’ I said. ‘It was an accident.’
‘I might have killed you.’ Paul turned a tragic face to his father. ‘You told me never to touch your sword and I disobeyed you.’
Alexander didn’t smile. ‘I disobeyed my own father often enough to know that it’s an easy thing to do. When I did so, I was beaten for it. My father had a heavy hand. I had no love for my father and I believed he had none for me. I don’t want to lift my hand against you. I will not punish you. I agree with your mother. You must learn to forgive and then to forget. Only then can you be at peace with yourself. I, too, had to learn that lesson, and it was the hardest one I ever learned. Perhaps someday I will tell you about it. But for now kiss your mother and Plexis. We are together and that’s what really matters.’
Paul leaned over to me and brushed a soft kiss on my cheek. ‘I’m sorry for your hand, Mother,’ he said.
‘It is a small thing compared to the love I have for you,’ I told him quietly. ‘It changes nothing. You never meant it to happen.’
Paul nodded, kissed Plexis, and left the clearing at a shambling run, too blinded with tears to see where he was going. He blundered into Demos, who caught him by the shoulders. Paul tensed and tried to escape; he was still angry at Demos, but the big man held him tightly, and after a moment, Paul collapsed against him. We could hear him sobbing in Demos’s arms. Plexis turned to me, his face sombre.
‘It will take a while for him to look at us the way he used to,’ and his voice was sorrowful. ‘I feel as if I’ve taken him away from you a second time.’
I nodded slowly. ‘It will take time, but they have a saying from the future, time heals all wounds. I think I’ll just leave it at that.’
Alexander cocked his head. ‘In Macedonia they have a maxim like that, though perhaps not as apt. They say, time can make you forget when you’ve been cheated out of a goat, so save your proof of payment.’ He broke off and shrugged. ‘Well, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t make it up.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sometimes I wondered.
‘I’m always amazed at the sayings of the Macedonians,’ said Plexis, looking very serious. ‘I can’t understand why they didn’t make it to posterity. The part about the goats rings so true.’
We ate fish for lunch, and then we moved on. There was no time to spare. The days were growing shorter. Soon there would be a proper night, and that was what the Eaters of the Dead were waiting for.
I was still being carried on a stretcher. I was in no condition to walk. I’d lost so much blood that I felt lightheaded most of the time, and I was shaky with fatigue. Mostly I slept, my bed swinging back and forth gently as I was carried along. The two men carrying me were tall and strong; they made me understand that I was no weight for them at all. They were slaves stolen from Orce or the surrounding villages. Both were brawny Viking types with long braids, wide shoulders, and many missing teeth.
I woke up long enough to eat and drink. Demos and Axiom gave me bitter tea each time I opened my eyes. It was made from wild sorrel. I drank it, wincing at its lemony tartness, but it was full of vitamins.
They also made sure I got the liver of whatever animal was on the menu. I had a better diet than anybody in our group, and no matter how I protested, they made me eat.
‘No, My Lady,’ said Axiom sternly. ‘You must build up your strength. You’re expecting a child and you lost too much blood. Do you want to lose the babe?’
I scowled. ‘Of course not. Stop “My Lady-ing” me. I’m Ashley and you know it. I simply want to be fair. There are women and children with us who could use the vitamins too.’
Axiom had no idea what I meant by vitamins, but he knew how to argue. ‘No one wants you to die,’ he said, ‘least of all the women and children you helped save. They would not eat your portion, even if you left it on your cabbage leaf. They would probably pray over it then offer it to whatever barbarian gods they believe in, and a wolf would end up with it. So eat!’ Axiom was a Jew and a frightfully logical one at that. I appreciated the fact that he only believed in one god. He and I were alike in that respect, although he believed much harder than I did.
I ate well, slept well, and by the end of the week felt well enough to walk. Even then, I only walked a few minutes at a time. It was a shock to find myself so weak. I leaned against Alexander and he held my arm. He looked good. He glowed again, his eyes bright with excitement, his face alight. He didn’t mind the Eaters of the Dead following us; he was spoiling for a fight. I shook my head. I would never understand men.
Plexis worked his sword arm, bri
ght bronze flashing as he parried an imaginary thrust. Alexander saw him, and of course he couldn’t resist a fencing match. The woods rang with the bright sound of metal hitting metal, clanging like sharp bells.
Demos stood back and admired their style. Plexis was quick and deadly with his blade. He used his classical training to the utmost, combining a rare elegance with a sure eye and a quick foot. Alexander had studied with the best teachers of the time, but he had his own style. It was brilliant, full of nerve and with an icy detachment that fooled the adversary into forgetting his fiery nature.
The two men circled each other warily. They knew each other too well. Plexis searched for a chink in Alexander’s defence but found none. Alexander played a defensive game, contenting himself with parrying attacks with insulting ease. His fluid movements were sometimes too quick to see. Plexis tried everything. Then finally, out of breath and patience, he cried, ‘All right, you win!’ and tossed his sword onto the ground -carefully, onto a soft patch of moss. He flopped down next to his weapon and wiped the sweat off his brow. ‘You haven’t lost your swordplay,’ he said, shaking his head.
Alexander grinned and sat next to his friend. ‘You haven’t either,’ he said. ‘I was just about to give up.’
Plexis eyed him incredulously. ‘I suppose you want me to believe that?’ he asked. ‘No, don’t bother to answer. At any rate, I’m glad I’m on your side. I wouldn’t want to fight against you in earnest.’
Alexander nodded. The two men lay side by side in the shade, their bodies gleaming with sweat. I saw more than one covetous look from women and men alike. They were simply fleeting glances because everyone was in awe of Alexander, and they were, frankly, terrified of me. The looks lingered on Plexis, but he was blind to them. He had always been blind to them. He had eyes only for Alexander. Alexander smiled and took his face in his hands. ‘Ah, Plexis, don’t look at me like that.’
The Soul of Time Page 13