‘Why? The gods will be jealous?’ Plexis asked, half jokingly completing a saying of the time.
‘Perhaps that’s what I meant.’ Alexander closed his eyes and kissed him. They embraced tenderly. Nobody was startled by their embrace. People were quite demonstrative at that time, and love between men was considered the norm in Greece and Persia; women being slightly above cattle and just below camels in the great scheme of life.
Of course, I can go into quite a long speech about what people thought at that time about love in general, but it was basically the same as it has been through all time. Gold and love. The most stable values on earth.
I, for one, loved to see Alexander and Plexis together. One reason was purely aesthetic. The other was more personal. Sometimes I used to wonder if I were normal, but then I decided that I couldn’t change the feelings I had for both men any more than they could change the feelings they had for each other. It wasn’t a complex relationship. Everything was clear and simple. Plexis and I were in love with a phenomenon, a divine being, and no matter how hard he protested he was just a man, no one believed Alexander. Anyone who came into his orbit immediately became one of his satellites.
Alexander was not a common mortal. Axiom and I had discussed it often enough. For Axiom it was simple; Alexander was one of the ‘chosen few’ who come to earth every three centuries or so and are made to change the world. The gods send these people – for Axiom only one god sends them – and they are so extraordinary that they irrevocably alter the course of history.
One day, Axiom and I sat down and worked out a graph showing the people who’d had the most influence on the world. The dates coincided closely with Axiom’s theory, it went like this: 300 BC – Alexander, 1 AD – Jesus Christ, 300 AD – Chandragupta; 700 AD – Charlemagne; 1000 AD – William the Conqueror, 1200 AD – Ghengis Khan; 1600 AD – Louis XIV; 1800 AD – Napoléon Bonaparte; 2100 AD – Stansilas Demitrivek; 2400 AD – N’go Kallihagi, and so on, Axiom told me, until the end of time.
I had to agree, Alexander had changed the course of history. He’d almost done more than he was supposed to do. I suppose that if Voltarrix had killed him in the manner he’d planned, and if Paul had been used for the druid’s purposes, things would have been wildly different. Even as it was, with Alexander officially dead at thirty-three years of age, the world would never be the same.
And in three hundred years another man would arrive, preach about love and forgiveness, die at the age of thirty-three, and change the world completely.
I sat up and propped my chin on my hand. My other hand, gone now, ached sometimes. It was odd, I could still ‘feel’ my hand and even wiggle imaginary fingers. I wondered when it would finally sink into my brain that my hand was truly gone.
In my time, I was so used to the grafts that replaced hands, arms, legs, and feet, that I hadn’t fully realized what had happened to me. In my time, if you lost your hand, it was easy to put it back on. Bodies without central nervous systems were grown especially to use as organ and limb donors, so there was never any problem.
I think everyone was a little shocked at how unaffected I was by the loss of my hand, but as I said, I hadn’t really comprehended the full extent of my deprivation. I had never told Alexander about the donor bodies. I’d never even told Usse, our doctor. I’d never mentioned the fact that one of my fingers wasn’t even my own, I’d lost it when I was five years old. I had been wearing one of my mother’s rings, and I’d fallen down. When I put my hand out to catch myself, the ring hooked on a small part of a metal fence and tore my finger off. I’d been in shock. I hadn’t thought of taking the finger – or the ring, which made my mother furious – when I ran screaming back to the house.
My mother hadn’t wasted time looking for my finger. She took me to the graft centre, and by that evening I had a whole new finger.
Well, it was gone now. It had been on my left hand and now there was nothing left of that. I sighed and looked down at the neatly wrapped bandage. Demos did a fine job of nursing. Soon the skin would grow over smoothly, and it wouldn’t look so frightening. However, it could never be put back on. At least while I lived in this time. I shrugged. I simply couldn’t believe it. My mind refused to compute.
That evening we were set upon by the Eaters of the Dead. We lost one man, and when the dawn came we couldn’t find his body anywhere. The fight had been short and fierce. Another man lost a hand. He sat, stunned, under an oak tree and didn’t even scream when Demos seared his flesh closed. My own wound ached abominably when I saw that, so I turned away. Paul was staring at me. I tried for a smile, but it wobbled across my face and I didn’t think he was fooled.
He came and sat next to me, and I hugged him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. He said that each time he saw me.
‘Listen, Paul,’ I began. I wasn’t sure how to tell him what I was feeling, but I tried. When I finished, he stared at me with the strangest expression.
‘You had a finger that wasn’t your own?’ he finally said. ‘How horrible.’
I grinned faintly. ‘Well, I don’t have it any more. Stop acting so tragic. Look at that poor man over there, under the tree. Losing a limb is fairly common here. I remember when we were in the army there were lots of missing fingers and hands. Look at Nearchus and Demos, they have nine fingers each. So don’t worry. I know it’s hard for you because you feel responsible, but it was an accident, and they can happen to anyone, anytime. That’s why they’re called accidents, OK?’
‘O-K,’ said Paul. He put his head on my shoulder. ‘I feel so awful about everything,’ he admitted. ‘About Cerberus, and Plexis, and Demos. I don’t know what to think any more, or who to trust.’
‘You can be sure that if Demos killed Cerberus, it was for a very good reason. I can’t imagine he liked doing it. He probably feels just as bad about the whole thing as you do. And as for Plexis,’ I sighed. ‘You’ll just have to work that one out by yourself. It’s true that your whole childhood was ruined because of him, but it’s over. You’re still alive, and safe, which you never would have been with us. I can’t even begin to count the number of times Chiron was almost poisoned.’ I shuddered. ‘I never would have been able to protect you against Roxanne. She was diabolical.’
‘Where is she now?’ asked Paul.
‘Somewhere in Macedonia, I think. I’m not sure exactly where, but I believe she’s with your grandmother, Olympias.’
‘So you’re saying that Plexis saved my life?’
‘Indirectly, yes. If you think of it that way, you’ll see that we should thank him for having me kidnapped. Remember; he had no idea I was pregnant. When you were taken from me it was all Darius’s doing, and he’s dead now, poor fool. So, forget about the whole thing, forget about revenge and retribution. Look ahead and know that we all love you.’
Paul frowned. ‘I feel so dreadful.’
‘I think it’s called being a growing boy,’ I said helpfully. ‘Do you remember what I told you about hormones?’
‘Those little beasts within me who control my actions?’
‘Sort of. You’re going to be full of them for a while, at least until you’re grown. They’ll make you overly emotional. Think long and hard about any actions you might want to take. Talk to me and whoever else you feel you can trust. Above all, don’t worry. I think everything will be all right.’
‘How can you say that?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Everyone else is on edge and panicky, and you’re as calm and cool as ice.’ He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think it’s true, you are the Queen of Hades.’
‘Ha, ha, very nice. I feel safe because I’m with your father. I’ve always had confidence in him. I can’t help it.’ I smiled. ‘He’s here, and you’re here, and I guess I’m just happy.’
‘I guess you’re still suffering from severe loss of blood,’ said Paul gloomily.
‘Shhh, there are people trying to sleep. Why don’t you put your head in my lap and sleep too? I don’t think you slept much last nig
ht with the fight going on so close by. And tonight it will be worse, they say. Sleep now, my little one, and dream. Dream of Chiron and Cleopatra and our home in Alexandria. I would love to be lying next to the pool with the white stones gleaming around us and the date palms waving overhead. Do you remember how lovely it was there? Your room had blue and green walls with pictures of dolphins and an island on them. The ceiling was high, and the floor was tiled in blue and white squares. Do you remember?’ I looked down at the fair head on my lap. Paul’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. I smiled. He might be almost as tall as I, but he was still young, and he fell asleep like a child.
Chapter Fifteen
During the day we walked quickly, staying closer together since two scouts had disappeared. Meals became frugal affairs, mostly consisting of berries, roots, and whatever was edible along our way. We camped in places that were easily defensible. Alexander and Demos took one half of the group, Plexis and Nearchus the other, and the two groups took turns sleeping and guarding.
Nights were getting longer. The sun dipped below the horizon earlier and earlier, making the twilight last longer. Strange cries echoed deep in the woods, frightening everyone. Then people started to disappear. Two scouts vanished, and then the last man in line, a Roman soldier, disappeared. He’d been walking close behind his comrade when there came a swish of bushes, and then nothing. No cry, no shout or struggle. Simply a missing person and a huge pool of blood not far from the place he was last seen.
Plexis and Alexander stared at each other. Losing the soldier was a serious blow; there were few men trained for fighting in our group, and now we were down to only two Roman soldiers. His weapons had disappeared along with him, which was another loss.
Alexander looked at the blood and frowned. ‘It looks like a ritual killing. Look at this.’ He pointed to a small plant that I hadn’t noticed, floating in the scarlet puddle. ‘That flower comes from the mountains. There are none here.’ He raised his head and sniffed, his eyes closed in concentration.
‘What are you trying to do?’ I asked, nervously. I had visions of the Eaters of the Dead feasting on the missing soldier. It was not a nice vision, and I swayed. I’d already seen cannibalism and was terrified.
Plexis was by my side in an instant, holding me firmly by the elbow and steering me to a fallen log. ‘Sit down. Don’t move. I’m going to get Axiom, he’ll tend to you.’
‘I don’t need Axiom,’ I said, but he was already gone, and the woods abruptly grew darker. The pine trees leaned over my head, their sharp needles and prickly branches swooping down at me. Their shadows twisted and groped at my feet, bright points of sunlight shifted and wove. I blinked, but my vision didn’t clear. I should have put my head between my knees, but it was too late. I fainted, toppling backwards off the log, landing in a boneless heap in a heavy growth of fern.
When Axiom came to get me, I was nowhere to be found. Plexis had stayed at the camp to speak with Phaleria, and Alexander and Demos looked at Axiom in puzzlement when he asked them where I was.
‘She was here a minute ago,’ said Alexander, glancing back at the pool of blood. ‘Strange, there are no footprints. Go back to camp and get Plexis, will you? He can track better than I can. Demos, what do you think we should do? Walk in a double line?’
Axiom frowned. ‘Are you sure your Lady Ashley went back to the camp? How could I have missed her?’
‘She must have taken another path.’ Alexander looked around and frowned again. ‘Try over that way. I’ll take the other trail, but first I want to wash my hands in the stream. Demos, can you go back to the camp and get everyone moving? We have to get away from this place. Head towards the treeless mountainside we caught a glimpse of earlier. I saw huge boulders. I have an idea it will be easier to defend ourselves there. And send Plexis back here.’
Everyone left, and after a short while Plexis came back and started to cast around for a trail to search for the missing soldier. He found a faint one and followed it, leaving the clearing and heading away from the camp. In his hand was his sword, and he carried Alexander’s shield strapped to his wounded arm. Alexander caught up to him, he’d been to the stream, and the two men continued their way together. Plexis never thought of asking Alexander where I was; he thought I was with Axiom, and Alexander thought I was back at the camp.
Meanwhile, I lay in a dead faint in the bushes, completely unaware of what was going on. When I woke up, there was no one around; night had fallen, and I was alone.
At first, I had no idea what was going on. I’d been so warm and comfortable in the ferns that when I woke up I stretched lazily and yawned. The moon hung in the sky like a slice of yellow cheese, and the pine trees seemed to be pointing at it and saying, ‘Look at that!’
I looked at it briefly, then gazed around me. Suddenly I sat up in fright. ‘Hello?’ I said. ‘Anybody here?’ There was no answer, except for the soft sound of the wind in the trees and night insects chirping and buzzing. An owl hooted and I jumped. Slowly I poked my head out of the ferns and looked around. The clearing was empty. The moon’s light was bright enough to cast deep shadows and was reflected in the pool of blood.
From where I was sitting, I could see that the blood was in the exact centre of the clearing. I could also see a glow-worm creeping through the moss on the top of the huge fallen log from which I’d toppled. I watched the worm for a while. My mind was frozen with panic. I was isolated in a dark forest, and there were strange noises all around. I knew that if I stayed where I was, I would be found eventually. It was the eventually that frightened me the most. I wanted to be found sooner than eventually.
Ever so slowly, I started to ease out of the ferns. I put my hand on top of the log and braced myself while I stood. My legs shook. I listened carefully. There was no noise. Still, a strange feeling of dread froze me in my place. I’d learned to pay attention to my instincts. I sank back down into the ferns, disappearing beneath them like a fish into green water. I pressed myself to the earth and found I could see out of a gap formed between the log and the ground. I lay my cheek on the soft moss and breathed in the sweet scent of the violets growing in purple profusion. Dried ferns made the ground beneath me soft and warm, but they crackled faintly when I moved, so I held myself immobile. I glanced at the sky. The moon was half hidden by clouds. The night was at its darkest. I thought that whatever was about to happen would happen soon. A snail crawled past, leaving a silvery, slimy trail. His head nodded a slow greeting to me, his tendril-like antennae prodding the air delicately. Then he lowered his head and grazed like a placid cow on a violet blossom.
I raised my eyes to the clearing and froze. There were shadows converging on the pool of blood. Slowly, stealthily, they eased like smoke out of the forest’s darkness and coalesced in the feeble light of the moon. Shadows slunk out of the woods on all sides, and one slithered by me not a stone’s throw away. I held my breath, but the shadow didn’t discern my presence.
I willed myself invisible, trying to melt into the ground. The shadows moved like wolves, on all fours; they were as silent as wolves and wore grey fur cloaks with wolf heads still attached. They were not the druids, although they were wearing capes made out of wolf pelts. I recognized their brawny arms and bony faces. They were the Eaters of the Dead.
When they were all gathered around the pool of blood, they joined hands and stood up, rising from their four-legged stance in unison, their faces held towards the moon, their sharp teeth bared and gleaming. They didn’t speak. Some of them carried weapons. Most had spears and a few had swords. The swords were probably taken from the dead soldiers. They didn’t look like an Iron Age tribe, they looked like they were still in the Stone Age -their spears had flint points.
They stood perfectly still for what seemed like hours to me. Then, as one, they dropped their hands to their sides and their leader took a human skull out of his pouch.
I thought of him as the leader for two reasons. He was taller than the others and he was wearing the p
elt of a jetblack wolf. His back was to me, so all I could see of him was the wolf skin with its head like a helmet. He held the skull over his head.
The others knelt in front of him, and for the first time, they uttered a sound. They started a low moan, which rose in volume and pitch until I nearly clapped my hands over my ears. The sound caused sudden crashing in the undergrowth on the far side of the clearing. A badger had been hiding, very much like I had, and the sound frightened him out of his refuge. He quickly waddled deeper into the woods, fading into the black shadows of the pine trees. The men didn’t even stir. They stopped their eerie cry as suddenly as they’d started it, and then another group of shadows eased out of the forest.
This time I was hard put to keep quiet. They held a prisoner, bound and gagged. Two men carried him slung between them like a big game trophy. When they reached the centre of the clearing they dumped him to the ground, heedless of the blood. The leader raised his arms again and the men untied the prisoner. He got to his knees, slowly. It was the missing Roman soldier. I could see that his hands were tied behind his back. A wound gaped on his shoulder, and his hair was matted with blood as well. He looked stunned and half dead. The blood on the ground had been his, and now he was kneeling in it. He swung his head back and forth, then suddenly turned and looked straight at me. Dark tears coursed down his cheeks. I shoved a fist into my mouth. Where his eyes should have been were two dark holes. The tears were ribbons of blood. My stomach heaved.
I was about to close my eyes again when, all of a sudden, the leader pulled his hood back. Luckily, my fist was still in my mouth and stifled my cry. It was Voltarrix. He was no man, I decided. He was a demon. A demon straight from Hades.
He raised the skull to the moon and said, ‘Take this man, the blind god, for your feast, and make us one of yours.’ I had no idea what he meant, or to which gods or god he was praying. My skin crawled with horror. Then Voltarrix tucked the skull back into his pouch and raised his arms to the sky.
The Soul of Time Page 14