CHAPTER 37

 

Hephaistion knew something was happening. He had been traveling with the army long enough to know when troops were getting ready for action; and judging by the hundreds of feet running outside his tent, the metallic sounds of weapons and the voices of the Greek mercenaries they were going to fight.

 

The Macedonian King is here!

 

On arms!

 

The General called the troops to assemble!

 

Quickly you lazy bastards! I have seen old women moving faster than you!

 

Hephaistion caught some phases shouted in Greek and some others in a language he didn’t know; but the urge was the same in all cases.

 

Memnon said Alexander was heading to the Granicus River, and the logical conclusion for Hephaistion was that the King had arrived. He had 2 days in the Persians’ camp and, as Memnon had said, he was treated like a distinguish guest; he even had a servant at his disposition, a Persian that knew some Greek thanks to his long service under the mercenary General.

 

He was feeling stronger now but hadn’t made any attempt to stand up, he had a plan and he needed his captors to think he was still weak and unable to defend himself. And as part of his plan, Hephaistion used the servant to help him with everything, the Macedonian complained constantly of pain he doesn’t felt and pretended to sleep almost all day. His wound was getting much better, now it started to itch, which was good because it meant it was healing, and he was eating well to recover his energy as quick as possible. 

 

Memnon went often to the tent, but he never stayed long believing the Macedonian was too weak to have visits. He had even sent his own doctor to Hephaistion, but the doctor didn’t know what was wrong with him.

 

- Maybe he just need some rest –said the doctor, also a Greek who had been traveling for a long time with the mercenary General—His wounds are healing well, probably the blood loss is the cause of his weakness.

 

- What do you recommend? –asked the mercenary.

 

- See that he eats well and don’t let him stand up without help, he shouldn’t make efforts.

 

And Memnon did exactly as the doctor said, giving orders to treat his Macedonian prisoner as if he were the Great King himself.

 

Now, hearing all the fuss outside, Hephaistion knew it was his opportunity to escape.

 

He took his hand under the pillow, where he had hidden a knife after his last meal, and he closed his hand around it. He only hope his plan would work; if Alexander was close it was his opportunity to run away and seek refuge with the Macedonian army. 

 

- Guard! –called Hephaistion; he knew a soldier was at the tent’s entrance day and night by Memnon’s direct orders—Guard!

 

- What is it? –asked a Greek named Epikrates. He was 28 years old, a reliable lad that had served well Memnon in the past.

 

- I can’t sit by myself…could you help me? –said Hephaistion in a soft and inviting voice, looking adorable; he tilted his head and bit his lower lip.

 

Epikrates felt a stab of pleasure when he looked at him.

 

- I…I…

 

- Please –that was most hot “please” the Greek had ever heard and, when he blushed savagely, Hephaistion knew he had won.

 

- All right.

 

A nervous Epikrates walked to the bed and put his arm around his back. Hephaistion laughed softly and the poor Greek blushed even more.

 

- You are tickling me –said the Macedonian, playfully.

 

- You are ticklish?

 

- Want to find out? –and before Epikrates could answer, Hephaistion stuck the knife in his neck, covering his mouth quickly before he could scream.

 

Hephaistion held Epikrates, he didn’t want the body to fall and made noise; and dragged him to the bed.

 

- I’m sorry –whispered the Macedonian. He really didn’t like to kill but he had no other choice.

 

He cleaned the blood on his hands using the blankets and started to undress the Greek. Hephaistion used Epikrates’ clothes to disguise himself, his chances would be greater is he went unnoticed in the camp; but when he put the armor on, his wound hurt. He clenched his jaw and tied the breastplate; he felt dizzy and had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to not faint. All the sudden action made him feel weak again as if all his energy had abandoned him; but he must continue, he must escape. Hephaistion forced his body to resist and after a pause, he braided his hair and put the cloak.

 

As he had imagined the place was full with soldiers running in all directions, all of them with their armor on and the spear in hand; the Persians wore colorful clothes and armors Hephaistion had never seen, but unfortunately this wasn’t the time to be admiring the enemy, he had to get out quickly.

 

At every step a terrible pain ran through his body, he felt the stitches on his wound pulling his skin merciless; if he continued like this he would burst his stitches but he had no choice, he bit his lip and continued walking. He hope with all his heart that the distribution of this camp were at least similar to the Macedonian, otherwise he didn’t think himself capable of finding the exit if he got lost, he was feeling worst at every moment…

 

Just a little further –he told himself, he was feeling a very strange weakness, his energy was leaving him, the colors started to see distorted and the sounds there like distant ghosts. He was going to faint—I must keep walking…

 

A powerful hand took him by the arm and when he turned he found Memnon, dressed in his magnificent armor that made him looked like a Homeric hero.

 

- Trying to escape? –Hephaistion threw him a punch with his last energies, but the mercenary stopped him without difficult.

 

Memnon took him by the wrist and pulled the Macedonian. Hephaistion fell on him like a rag doll, he was too weak to try to defend himself.

 

- You are very pale –said Memnon, his lips inches from the soft and white skin of Hephaistion’s cheek, his breath moved some of his bronze-gold locks while he held the Macedonian, his arm around his waist.

 

He smells so good –thought the mercenary, without understanding why was he thinking that in a moment like this.

 

- Let me go –demanded Hephaistion in a whisper.

 

- To go where in your condition? –said Memnon, softly as if he was dealing with a stubborn horse—If I leave you now you will faint.

 

How strange –thought the Macedonian—I feel so weak but my heart beats with such a force…I have to get out…but…I can’t move, my eyes are closing…

 

Memnon carried him in his arms and walked back to his tent. Hephaistion’s body feel so good against his own, his silky hair sliding through his arm. The mercenary saw his sleeping face, the arc of his eyelashes, his head against his chest; it had been a long time since the last time Memnon had a male lover but watching those lips slightly parted made him wanted to kiss him...those lips that could make a man sell his soul to have him. And suddenly he felt a strange envy burning in his veins. How lucky was the Macedonian King to have a lover like him: strong, intelligent and painfully beautiful.

 

XXX

 

The enemy had been sighted and Alexander gave instructions to march in battle formation and advanced at full speed, he was ready for an immediate engagement.

 

At last! What he had been wanting so badly since the beginning of the campaign, a direct battle against the forces of the Great King. He had spent months doing nothing, wasting his resources and men, but this, This! Was what he had always wanted, what he had always dreamed.

 

He felt his blood burning in anticipation of the battle, he needed to win, we would win, not only because his entire campaign needed badly a victory, also because he had no time to lose. He had to finish this army and ran to look for Hephaistion. His mind was full with images of torture, what if Memnon had him in a prison? What if Memnon was mistreating him? His dearest friend was injured after fighting for him, to help him to achieve his goal, to make his dreams come true, and now he was in the hands of the enemy.

 

He would crushed the Persians and squeezed their necks until they told him where was this Memnon. Alexander’s mind was racing, making a battle plan, his eyes surveying the terrain and quickly measuring it… when he arrived to the edge of the River Granicus, and there the stream of his dreams and ideas stopped abruptly.

 

He hadn’t expected this.

 

The Persians were on the other side of the river, but not only that, the river was too wide and too deep…

 

- Alexander, we can’t attack now, not in our current position –said Parmelio when the King called an improvised meeting near the river—The Persians can’t be tempted out of their position, they have all the advantages and are well aware of that; the river is too deep and the stream too strong, if you insist in charging crossing the river the phalanx would have to advance in column, not in extended line, and not only that, we will have to struggle up to climb the slippery bank on the far side, that would create general disorder and would left us vulnerable to their attacks.    

 

- Parmelio is right –said Kleitos—Besides, it’s late in the afternoon. We should camp here to spend the night and tomorrow look for another cross point.

 

- Alexander –said Parmelio again—The Persians are so heavily outnumber in infantry that might as well retreat during the night.

 

That last statement made up Alexander’s mind. He couldn’t let the Persians escape, he wanted a victory, he needed to get out of there soon, he had to look for Hephaistion; to let the Persians escape was unthinkable, unacceptable. He turned his head to the other side of the river, and saw the Persian army standing like the gates of the underworld, imperturbable and ready to bring dead to anyone who dare step into their territory.  

 

The men in the Macedonian army wondered what was happening, some stretching the neck to see something, others standing on tiptoe. The King and his trustful advisers and friends were gathered far enough from the rest of the army to avoid been overheard. But the men at the front lines and the officers had seen the river and many of them, as veterans and men of war, knew that to fight with the enemy on the other side of the river was suicidal. 

 

- What do you think, Kryriakos? –asked one of his companions.

 

The veteran pezetairoi scratched his chin, watching the river.

 

- I think we are going to spent the night here –said Kryriakos—It’s impossible to attack now, only a mad man would cross this river with an army like that waiting on the other side.

 

Kryriakos wasn’t mistaken. Nobody in his right mind would attack in Alexander’s position. But Alexander was famous for always doing the last thing you could possibly think about. 

 

- I will not let the enemy escape –said Alexander with that voice that told them he was determined. When he talked like that he looked older, wiser; his handsome features hardening to look as the brilliant commander he was.

 

Parmelio nodded.

 

- Then we could wait until nightfall and march downstream to find an easier crossing point, as Kleitos suggested –said the veteran General—“A failure at the outset would be a serious thing now, and highly detrimental to our success in the long run”(1)

 

- No –said the King stubbornly, his uneven eyes looking darker. Two long locks of blond hair crossing his face; it was fascinating to look at him, so young, so attractive but at the same time surrounded by an aura of power—I will not look like a coward to these Persians; we will attack now.

 

Perdikkas, Leonnatos, Koinos, Philotas, Krateros and Ptolemy just heard the exchange in silent, they were on Parmelio’s side but the veteran General and the hipparch knew more about warfare than them, and they decided to let them do the taking. 

 

- Alexander, Parmelio is right –said Kleitos, trying as hard as he could to not lose his patience—We must wait until nightfall and…

 

- And what makes you think the Persians will be still here while we look for an easier cross point? –the King’s eyes were shining, it was impossible to disobey him—I’ll waste no more time here.

 

- And why the hurry? –asked Kleitos. 

 

- You know why, we don’t have money and we are running out supplies. We need a victory now –the King’s arguments were very valid and everybody there knew how desperately they needed a victory, but…

 

- Just that? –Kleitos took the risk of saying what everybody else was thinking—Are you sure Hephaistion had nothing to do with your decision?  

 

- What if he has anything to do with my decision? –Alexander challenged him.

 

Parmelio shook his head. Amyntor’s son was going to kill them all, he was sure of it.

 

That boy only causes problems –he thought.

 

- Alexander we can’t attack, it’s Daisios –said Parmelio, using the only argument he had now: religion—You know this month is bad luck for military campaigns

 

- And? By royal decree I name this month a second Artemisios, happy now? –said the King to his shocked Companions. 

 

- You are insane! –exclaimed Kleitos, he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

- I have heard enough –said the King angry—We attack now.

 

Things weren’t as Alexander planned, the pezetairoi were in shock when they heard what their King was planning, and the situation was even worst because almost all the high officials of the army were related to Parmelio. Philip’s most veteran General had the control of all the key posts of the army and word spread quickly that Parmelio was against the attack, and not only that, the veteran soldiers knew this was a trap and they didn’t want to advance through the river, especially with the Persians heavily armed on the other side.

 

The Persian cavalry was formed as an impenetrable wall and, in front of them at the crossing point were Memnon’s mercenaries, the only infantry body in that formation but also the best, about 6,000 men armed with javelins instead of spears.   

 

- What’s wrong with the phalanx? Why isn’t ready yet? –asked the King, tying his helmet, and impressive piece of armor with 2 great white wings adorning it. He looked like a warrior god, with the same dangerous beauty of a lion. The Macedonian Lion. 

 

- They aren’t sure about this –said Ptolemy, watching his King mounting a brown horse, not Boukephalos, he didn’t use his trustful horse for an attack like this. 

 

- It’s not their job to be, they are here to fight –said Alexander in a terrible mood—I’ll charge first with the cavalry, when a gap opens the infantry will cross the river, is that clear?

 

- Yes, Alexander –sighed Ptolemy. Where was Hephaistion when they needed him? Only Hephaistion could talk some sense into the King.

 

Persian side,

 

- General, do you think the Macedonian King is going to attack? –asked Lykaon, shielding his eyes with his hand, watching the enemy getting ready.

 

- He will attack, is in his nature –said Memnon—He is still young and is worried for his lover, but just in case he is not completely sure let’s give him something to make up his mind. Euthydemos! –he called the same man that had brought Hephaistion to him.

 

- Yes, General.

 

- Chose a man with good aim and throw this to the Macedonians, specially to where the King is –Memnon gave him a small package, like a stone wrapped in clothes.

 

Euthydemos nodded.

 

- Yes, General.

 

Macedonian side,

 

Kleitos was still trying to convince Alexander to desist on the attack when they heard a scream of warning. An arrow flew directly to where the King was. Perdikkas came running on his horse with his shield ready to protect his King, but Alexander was too far and the arrow fell some paces in front of him.  

 

- Holy harpies on a tree! –exclaimed Perdikkas, pulling the reins of his horse—What was that?

 

The men step back, moving away from the river, just in case the Persians started to shoot at them. Glycon, one of the King’s pages, ran to where the arrow fell and saw that had something tied.

 

- Sire! –said the 14 years old boy—Sire, the arrow had this.

 

Glycon handed the King the small package and Ptolemy stretched his neck to see.

 

- What’s that? –asked his friend and Alexander opened the package.

 

His uneven eyes opened as round as the full moon when he saw Hephaistion’s locket, the same one he had gave him years ago when his best friend was going to Byzantium with King Philip. A murderous fury took possession of his body and all rational thoughts were replaced by a burning urge to kill. The creature of infinite power that slept inside the King woke up crying out for the blood of his enemies.  

 

One look at Alexander’s face made Ptolemy shudder, it was like looking at the face of Ares, a sight that no mortal could bear. The King looked capable enough of killing a million of men just with his sword and Ptolemy found himself feeling sorry for the Persians. 

 

You sealed your demise when you took what was mine,

Don't try to stop me from avenging this world,

No voice to be heard

There's no escape from this rage that I feel,

Nothing is real,

(Bullet for my Valentine, Waking the Demon)

 

Alexander charged immediately not turning to see if his men were ready, he didn’t care if he had to kill all the Persians alone, he would find Hephaistion even if he had to descend to the Hades and challenge Cerberus.

 

- Holy Mother #%&/ With &%#/ On top! –exclaimed Perdikkas, he kicked the flanks of his horse and ran behind Alexander. 

 

- To the King! –shouted Kleitos, he could be against this madness that Alexander called an attack, but he would protect his King even with his life.

 

Only 3 cavalry squadrons were ready and they followed him immediately.

 

Leonnatos cursed when his horse step into the water, the river was deeper than they had thought and the furious stream proved to be another formidable enemy.

 

Oh, this is a very bad idea –thought Leonnatos, making his best to keep his horse going, the water reached his thighs at the middle of the river and he cursed again.

 

Around him the other hetairoi were in no better conditions, only Alexander seemed to have no problems crossing through these indomitable waters, he was an excellent rider, but if things kept going like this he was going to be the only one to come across the river.

 

Persians side,

 

A grin curved Memnon’s lips when he saw the charge, and silently thanked his wife for her magnificent advice. Yes, the Macedonian Lion had a great weakness called Love.

 

- Javelins! –shouted Memnon with his best parade voice. The sound of 6 thousand men taking his arms filled the air—Wait! –his pale blue ayes on the impressive figure of the King.

 

He really is the descendant of Achilles –thought the mercenary General—He shines like the sun.

 

Memnon had never before met Alexander, and the truth was that he was genuinely impressed, no man had such a fire inside, the Macedonian King was like no other mortal and that wounded his warrior pride. Many people praised Memnon, he was an excellent commander with vast knowledge of military strategy, many Persians said he had no rival, that he could beat Ares and challenge Athena.

 

Memnon knew he was good but now, seeing Alexander he wasn’t so sure.

 

Why am I thinking like this? Why am I so afraid? –thought the mercenary General—I’m the one in the strongest position, I’m the one with the advantage here…then, why do I feel like this, so insecure?       

 

He waited until the distance had shortened and then…

 

- Released!

 

Macedonian side,

 

The javelins fell on the Macedonians like rain, without a pause and without mercy. The mercenaries weren’t Persians, they were Greek trained under the most strict military discipline, they were professionals in the art of war, deadly machines born to kill and they didn’t gave ground. The mercenaries had all the advantages and the river appeared to work for them too, because the stream hit the horses with force, threatening to drag them.

 

- Damn mercenaries! –said Ptolemy through clenched teeth, covering himself the best he could with his shield at the same time he was pulling his horse’s reins.

 

Soon one Macedonian after another started to fall into the cold waters, and Kleitos shouted at the King when he saw how far he was.

 

- Alexander! Wait! –he was very close to the other side, and the veteran hipparch didn’t know how the King had managed to get so far without being hit by a javelin, but it was dangerous if he alone got to where the enemy was. 

 

Alexander turned after blocking a javelin aimed directly to him, and saw how the rest of the hetairoi were having serious problems, and not only that, he was alone. 

 

Even Alexander, is his frenzy rage saw the impossible task, even if he crossed there was the Persian cavalry, immobile like statues but ready to attack in any moment. His mind worked quickly, and before another man fell, he retreat again to his side of the river.

 

The shouts and cheering from the Persians’ side were like blows for a man that considered his proud more important than almost anything in the world. His proud was who he was and this afternoon Memnon had spat on his face and laughed of his incapability of protecting who was the most important person in his life: Hephaistion. Because he was now sure that Hephaistion was on the other side of the river, so close and so far away from him.

 

- We are going to wait here until nightfall and look for an easier cross point –barked Alexander to his officers, still wet and in an even worst mood.

 

He looked again to the other side of the river and for a moment his eyes crossed with Memnon’s.

 

I will never forget this –said Alexander to himself.

 

- Where is Kallisthenes? –asked the King, clenching his fist around Hephaistion’s locket. Aristotle’s nephew was the one recording all this battles and adventures in Asia, and he was always near when a major event occurred. 

 

- I’m here, Alexander –said the historian, appearing with a slave carrying a bag full with scrolls.

 

- You will not write anything of what happen at the Granicus today, is that clear? –said the King, one of his pages trying to dry him with a towel.

 

Kallisthenes saw him as if the King had hit him.

 

- I don’t understand…

 

- You understand perfectly well –Kallistenes would have argued with him, said that he was there to write about everything, that he was a free man, that no one, not even a King, could manipulate the events to his liking, that he was a Greek not a Persian under the orders of a Tyrant…but one look to Alexander’s eyes made him tremble, and all he could said in a thin voice was.

 

- Yes, Alexander.

 

- How many men fell? –asked the King when he saw Kleitos coming.

 

- 25 –said the hipparch, tired, wet and covered in blood. He wasn’t injured; the blood was of one of his men that had died in his arms. A javelin had pierced his throat.

 

- I will remember them.

 

XXX

 

Memnon returned to his camp at nightfall, all his men and the Persians cheered him for his victory against the Macedonian invader. He was tired but in an excellent mood and was invited by Arsites, the satrap of Hellespontine Phygia, to celebrate with him, Mithridates, Darius’ son-in-law, and the other Persian nobles in a magnificent dinner.  

 

- It was a good day, General –said Lykaon smiling.

 

- Yes, it was. But we must be alert, Lykaon –said Memnon, walking with him to his tent—The King is not going to surrender so easily. 

 

- No, but he is not behaving as usual –said Thais’ father—Your plan to kidnap his lover was excellent –the General nodded—I heard our guest tried to escape, remarkably in his condition.

 

- He killed Dardanos is a single combat –said Memnon, rubbing his eyes—I’m not surprised.  

 

- I’ll double his guards –the General patted his arm. 

 

- Do it, please. Now go, take a bath and meet me in Arsites’ tent, we deserve a good dinner –said Memnon—See also that the men receive wine and a good ration of food; they earned it. 

 

- Where are you going?

 

- First to take a bath and a massage; then to see my guest.

 

When Hephaistion woke up he was again in the same tent; he felt weak, he wanted to close his eyes again and sleep, sleep, sleep… and soon his heavy eyelids close, he didn’t want to think, not now. When he woke up again, several hours later, he surveyed his surroundings; there were no traces of the body of his Greek guard or blood. He tried to get up, but he discovered he had one arm tied to the bed.

 

Damn! –he thought.

 

Hephaistion pulled the rope several times and looked for something to cut it, but there wasn’t anything he could use. He was looking under the bed when he heard the flaps of the tent opening and he sat again, pretending that he was doing nothing besides looking at the ceiling.

 

It was Memnon.

 

- You tied me –said Hephaistion with all the indignity he could summon—I thought you said I was your guest.

 

- Guests don’t kill the guards –said Memnon, he wasn’t angry. He looked good, wearing a clean chiton and his hair perfectly combed— Epikrates was a good lad. 

 

- I’m very sorry but you leave me no choice, I don’t like killing –that was a sincere answer that caught the mercenary’s attention.

 

- Interesting, I head you are a very skilful warrior.

 

- A warrior not a murderer.

 

- True –said Memnon holding his gaze. Should he tell him about that day’s battle? About the defeat of his King? Gods! What a beautiful creature.

 

After a battle the mercenary always felt the urge to lie with a woman…or a boy, the adrenaline and the emotion of a fight left him aroused and this time was no different, even more watching Hephaistion there, lying on the bed wearing only a thin tunic of blue cotton. 

 

Memnon sat at on the bed, at his side, and touched his cheek, sliding his finger through his creamy skin. 

 

- Don’t you dare to even think about it –Hephaistion took his wrist with force.

 

- And what am I thinking? –Memnon challenged him.

 

- Do you think I’m stupid? I know how to recognize lust when I see it –said the Macedonian holding his gaze, his eyes shining in that scarce light.

 

- I think nothing of the sort –said the mercenary in a silky tone—I image that a man like you must have had all kind of proposals…

 

- Oh, please –said Hephaistion annoyed—If you are trying to seduce me you are wasting your time, and if you think for a moment that I would sleep with you to obtain my freedom, then you are moron.

 

In a fast movement, Memnon took him by the arms and threw him on the bed. Hephaistion tried to conceal his panic when he felt the mercenary’s weight over him, he couldn’t move, not with one arm tied, and feeling so weak; Memnon was strong and heavier, not to mention that he was a good soldier, he wouldn’t be able to defeat him, not in his present condition.   

 

Hephaistion hated that feeling of vulnerability, it reminded him when King Philip had rape him, he had been weak, only a boy and since them he loathed that feeling.

 

Memnon shuddered, feeling the Macedonian’s warm body beneath him, his lips inches from his. He remembered Alexander, riding through the river with his eyes fixed on him; the Macedonian King was a man born to fight, he had came to this world to conquer it, who would have thought that a boy of 22 years old with a savage beauty as his could be such a good warrior? After all he was the only Macedonian who almost reach the other side of the river.

 

And he would have succeeded if his men were as brave as he –thought the mercenary—Probably I should have done the same as him if someone like Hephaistion was waiting for me…but Hephaistion could only belong to the strongest, a man like him couldn’t be with a nobody, only with the best.   

 

- What would you do if I take you by force? –asked the mercenary, his eyes running over Hephaistion’s features.

 

- I will kill you in the fist opportunity I had –the tone in his voice told Memnon he wasn’t joking, but that only increased his interest in him.

 

- Why are you with the Macedonian King? –asked the mercenary in a soft voice.

 

- Because I love him –said Hephaistion.

 

- Why?

 

- Because of what he is. 

 

- Of what he is…you mean because of his strength? –asked Memnon with interest. 

 

- I mean because everything –what was the mercenary playing at?

 

- What would you do if I tell you that he was defeated this afternoon? –asked Memnon as if they were talking about this year’s harvest, brushing his cheek with every word.

 

- You are lying –not for one second Hephaistion thought that could be true. No, Alexander couldn’t be defeated.

 

- I’m not –the mercenary kissed his cheek—I defeated him at the Granicus River –Hephaistion laughed softly—What’s so funny?

 

- You didn’t win, he let you go –said the Macedonian—And if I were you, I would be very worried right now, asking myself, what is Alexander planning?

 

- You should be more worried about you than about me –said Memnon; he lifted his head and kissed him, invading his mouth without giving him the opportunity to resist. Hephaistion tried to bite him but he fail, the mercenary was more skillful than he—One day I will have you, but not against your will –he stood up and smoothed his clothes—I’ll send a servant with your dinner, and this time there will be no knives. 

 

XXX

(1) Peter Green. Alexander of Macedon, p 174