Chapter 120

 

CHAPTER 120

 

 

“What we wish, we readily believe, and what we ourselves think, we imagine others think also.” Julius Caesar

 

New York, 2011

 

It was a strange night, one of those nights where everything seem possible, when you could almost hear the shadows whispering and see the darkness moving as if it were alive. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the occasional car passing on the street several floors below them, it was so quiet in this room. Hephaistion had fallen silent suddenly and for so long that Zophiel started to believe he wasn’t going to continue his story, they had been hear many nights, tonight it would be more than a year since she started coming to hear the most incredible story.

 

Zophiel moved nervously on her sofa, she folded her hands on her lap and settled her purple eyes on her feet. She couldn’t even start to imagine how was to have lived for more than 2 thousand years, and now after so many nights alone, having a false life, wandering in the night, to remember everything that had happened during his mortal days.

 

She was still young, but she could understand one thing: this was very difficult for Tzimisce sat in front of her.

 

It’s like a dream –thought Hephaistion with nostalgia—As if all my mortal life had been a sweet dream… sometimes, in my darkest hours, I wonder if all of that really happened or if I imagined it...maybe I’m losing my mind…but then, when I start to think like this, I feel Alexander’s locket against my heart and then I know that it was real.  

 

- Hephaistion –said Zophiel carefully, after what seem like hours of silence, it was as if time had frozen—If you don’t want to continue with…

 

- I’m fine –the Tzimisce interrupted her, lifting his head and opening his eyes—I’m fine, its just…it had been a while since the last time I remembered all this –she nodded slowly.

 

- You have a very intense life –said the Toreador shyly.

 

Hephaistion smiled.

 

- Intense… –he fell silent for a moment, savoring that word—Yes, I guess it was intense; want to know what happened after the battle?

 

- Of course! –she exclaimed happily.

 

As I said Darius ran away from the battlefield, he was very good at that…escaping, I mean; and he didn’t stop until he was miles away from Arbela, he was so eager to put as much distance between himself and our army that didn’t bother to destroy the bridges behind him, he just shouted to his driver as if he were pursuit by demons. At some point he left his chariot and continued riding a common horse. Again, he left behind his bow and mantle, and he vanished in the night like a common thief. 

 

When the Great King finally stopped, it was already the morning of the day after the battle, his horse was exhausted the same as he and the men who surrounded him; all covered in dust and sweat, and several also bleeding from wounds they had received while covering Darius escape. Oxyathres bent to the front, resting his forehead against the horse’s neck, and closed his eyes for a moment, his entire body ached after the savage battle and all the hours riding in the dark, his legs, unsupported in that four-horned saddle, hurt terrible. 

 

Soon, they were rejoined by Bessus leading his Bactrian cavalry, 2,000 Greek mercenaries, the survivors of the Household cavalry and the few Immortals who had managed to follow the Great King. They were a sorry lot, no longer looking as a proud part of the biggest Persian army assembled in years, they were now a band of fugitives in their own land.

 

- Great King, are you wounded? –asked Oxyathres worried, recovering a little, and advancing a few steps to approach him.

 

- I’m fine –Darius was in a terrible mood, he looked as bad as he felt. Everything had been an utterly disaster, he didn’t understand why he Gods were infatuated with the Macedonian, because that was the only explanation he found to the fact that Alexander had been able to crush his army, and army that double the size of the Macedonian, and army composed almost entirely of cavalry, and army that should have been able to fight against anything.

 

Against anything…? –thought Darius—Maybe, but there was just one foe that my army wasn’t able to defeat: Fate.

 

What now? Now he was a defeated King running away in his own land. Humiliating.

 

- We have to keep moving –said Darius while Bessus and Paron, the only of the mercenaries commanders who had survived, approached him—Alexander is likely to go all the way to Babylon now –he said to his small audience—He is going to press straight on to the rich cities of the southern, since all this part is inhabited and the road itself easy for the baggage trains, and besides, Babylon and Susa naturally are the prize of the war (1) –he made a pause, trying to think what to do. Then he started to nod slowly—I’ll take the road over the mountains into Media and the eastern provinces.

 

- And then? What can we do now? –asked Bessus, who was making a tremendous effort to maintain his calm. He was furious, everything had gone wrong and he blamed Darius entirely for their defeat. This had ruined all the satrap’s plans; his dreams of glory now seem very distant. How was that so much could change in just one day?

 

- I’ll recruit another army. Let the Macedonians gut themselves with gold idle their time away amid concubines and luxury: nothing is better calculated to weaken them as a fighting force (2) –said the Great King, trying to sound sure of himself, but everybody knew it was a bad idea.

 

Everything was lost and after that crashing defeat they had suffered at Gaugamela it was perfectly clear, not only to them, but to the rest of the empire, that Alexander was undefeatable. Darius had lost all his prestige and now he was hovering at the edge of the abyss and would inevitably fall, no matter if he fought against fate. Everything was written and he was doom.

 

Just want one thing

Just to play the king

But the castle's crumbling

And you're left with just name

Where's your crown, King Nothing?

(Metallica, King Nothing)

 

What about me? You are too impatience, I’m getting there. I passed out after my sister’s news about my grandfather’s death, I lost a lot of blood and the wound on my arm looked terrible by the time Nikandros and Berenike took me to the doctor.

 

- I won’t lie to you, the General’s wound is serious –said an exhausted doctor Philip to Nikandros and Berenike. He had been working tirelessly after the battle, taking care of the wounded, but he had to admit that, for a battle as big and savage like this, the Macedonians didn’t suffered heavy casualties: 1,000 foot soldiers and 200 horsemen. The wounded were more numerous, but not as much as one would expect from an army outnumbered as the Macedonians had been.  

 

- How bad? –asked Berenike sobbing, she had been crying all night after grandfather Demetrios died, her beautiful gray eyes looked as if someone had punched her, red and puffy, she hadn’t slept and, to make things worst, when morning came, her brother appeared seriously wounded.

 

Doctor Philip shook his head, his hair now showing several gray locks and his face furrowed by deep wrinkles that didn’t have much to do with his age but with the concerns that had overwhelmed him since the military campaign began.

 

- He should have come straight to me after the battle –said the doctor gravely—The General lost too much blood and the wound is infected, he has fever.

 

- But he is not going to die, right? –asked Nikandros, his voice trembled even if he tried to keep it still.

 

The doctor sighed.

 

- It would be better if I amputate his arm –Nikandros and Berenike got paled.

 

- You can’t do that –said Nikandros extremely serious, his sister took both hands to her mouth and cried again—Phai is a warrior, you can’t amputate him one arm. 

 

Doctor Philip puffed his cheeks out and brushed his hair back, he too hadn’t slept and it was a supreme effort to keep his eyes opened.

 

- Then, I can’t guarantee he is going to survive –he said, running a hand through his face.

 

Achilles chose that moment to arrive. He had heard from Lysanias, who had survived the battle just with bruises, that his father was injured, but, when he arrived to the infirmary and found his aunt crying hysterically and his uncle Nikandros so paled that he looked as if he were going to faint at any moment, his heart skipped a beat; what had happened?

 

- I’m very sorry –said doctor Philip in a grave tone—But there is nothing more I…

 

- But why my brother? –asked Berenike, crying, for a moment she couldn’t speak, feeling her throat suddenly close and she had to take deep breaths—This not fair…—she sobbed— Why Phai?… First grandpa and now…

  

Nikandros embraced her and, even if he didn’t want, he cried too. So many things had happened in a very short time, they were just trying to assimilate the fact that grandfather Demetrios, the invincible Demetrios, was dead and they would never hear his voice again telling them about his numerous war stories, when this happened. 

 

The young Prince thought the worst, his father was dead, he didn’t want to stay any longer and ran outside, ignoring the people walking at his side and a few others who called him by his name. The boy didn’t know where to go, he just ran, feeling how the tears slid down his cheeks, his father was dead and the hollow inside his heart was something that threatened to drown him.

 

XXX

 

Alexander for his part, completely oblivious to what had happened to Hephaistion, had only slept for a couple of hours before starting to work. This victory was completely different for the one he had obtained at Issus, not only it was much more important, he had several things to deal with and he couldn’t lose time here in celebrations or dividing the spoils, he had to act quickly; he was close to the major cities of the Persian Empire and had to take them now when the news of his victory were fresh and their fear for the might of the Macedonian army still in their hearts.

 

- Eumenes –he said to his secretary while he inspected the camp—See that our dead are prepare for the funeral ceremony.

 

- And what about the Persian casualties? –asked Eumenes taking notes, with a couple of slaves behind him, holding several papers.

 

- Leave the corpses where they are –said the King in a cold tone—That will serve as a warning in case someone else is thinking to attack us.

 

- Alexander! –Ptolemy called him, with Krateros and Kleitos behind him—We have the report about the casualties and the wounded. 

 

- Good! Give it to Eumenes, and get ready because we are going to Babylon as soon as we can. I already sent Philoxenus to Susa with orders of taking the city’s surrender and safeguard the treasure –said the King—I don’t want to lose time here and, according to our guides, we can reach Babylon in 3 weeks. Any news about Darius?

 

- None –answered Krateros—He knows these lands better than us, so he could be anywhere. 

 

Kleitos was going to open his mouth to give his opinion when Achilles arrived, he ran directly to Alexander and embraced him, hiding his face against his abdomen and crying with such force and sentiment that he even moved Krateros and Kleitos, but they would die a slow and painful death before admitting that. The King was utterly confused and for a moment he didn’t know what to do, one moment his mind was focus on what to do next: Darius, Babylon, Susa, the treasure, the casualties…and one moment later his son came running and crying.

 

He caressed Achilles’ back tenderly, thinking that maybe the boy was still affected by all that had happened the previous day, it was a reasonable explanation, many survivors of the camp massacre were still in shock and the Prince had behaved gallantry, the King had heard several of his men talking about how their courageous Prince had fought against the Scythians. Alexander had even heard someone saying that Achilles had killed one and he was sure that, by the end of the week, they would swear that the boy had killed 10 men alone. But the King did nothing to correct the men, it was much better for him, and Achilles, if they truly believe that their Prince was invincible like their King.  

 

And Alexander couldn’t be more proud of him, he was sure that Hephaistion would be delighted too…speaking of which, where was his beloved? He hadn’t see him since they go back after chasing Darius.

 

- It’s all right, son, everything is going to be fine now –said the King as sweetly as he could but Achilles shook his head, still embracing him with all his forces, closing his hands in fists holding Alexander’ cloths.

 

- D-d-daddy…–he sobbed, making an effort to speak– Da…ddy is…de..ad…hic…

 

The air blew, a soft breeze, making the King’s blond hair danced in front of his eyes.

 

- What did you say? –the tone of Alexander’s voice scared everyone, he was a completely different person and the change was so drastic and sudden that Eumenes and his slaves took a step back. He took Achilles by the arms to force him to look at him—WHAT DID YOU SAY?! –he raised his voice, he didn’t want to yell at his Prince, but he wasn’t thinking correctly in that moment—Where did you hear that?

 

- A-at…the…in…hic…firmary… –Achilles answered with difficulty.

 

The King didn’t think it twice and ran with all his forces to the infirmary, forgetting about everything, about the victory, Babylon, the treasure, Darius, the casualties…none of that was half as important as his beloved. In that moment his life had stopped, Hephaistion was dead? The sole thought of never seeing his beloved again was enough to drive him insane. He couldn’t be dead, they had come back together after pursuing Darius all night and then…

 

I’m a fool –now that he took a moment to think about it he realized that the General was looking very paled, how was that he didn’t noticed before?—Because I’m a fool and I was more concentrated on capturing Darius than in everything else –he cursed—Please father Zeus, don’t let this be true, I can’t live without him…   

 

You, my son, will be immortal, but your immortality will cost you, you'll have to pay with the life of your dearest.

 

The words of the Egyptian High Priest sounded loud and clear in his mind, and he felt a knot in his stomach, a feeling of fatality came upon him; he who never was afraid felt a horrible fear running through his veins, he who was always sure of himself felt lost. He had achieved the greatest victory of his life, was this in exchange of Hephaistion’s life? Were the Gods so cruel that they would charge him with the life of his beloved? 

 

He arrived at the infirmary without noticing when had this happened, and soon found Berenike crying uncontrollably, and Nikandros, Lysanias and her slave trying to calm her down. In that moment he thought the worst and felt his world was falling apart.

 

- Ma’am, please, you have to calm down, is bad for the baby –said Netikerty extremely worried.

 

- Eni, go to your tent and rest –said Nikandros but his sister shook her head.

 

- I don’t want to go! –she said almost yelling.

 

- Alexander? –said Lysanias, and Nikandros turned in the King’s direction. Alexander looked so paled that he scared Hephaistion’s older brother.

 

- Where is Phai? –he asked with a tone of voice that they hardly recognized as his own.

 

- Doctor Philip assigned him a room, he is sleeping but…

 

- Sleeping? –the King interrupted him, had he heard correctly or was just his hope playing tricks on him?—He is alive?

 

Nikandros blinked confused.

 

- Of course! Where did you hear otherwise?

 

- Daddy….is alive? –asked Achilles. He had run behind Alexander, followed closely by Kleitos, but the King was faster than the 2 of them. 

 

Berenike cleaned her tears with a handkerchief.

 

- He is NOT going to die –she said sobbing, shaking uncontrollably.

 

The King sighed with relief, thanking all the Gods for this wonderful gift and promising the greatest of all sacrifices if Hephaistion was fine.

 

- What happened? –he asked, now thinking more clearly.

 

Nikandros stood up and told him the entire story, about his brother’s wound, how he had passed out in front of Berenike, and doctor Philip’s opinion.

 

- Please, Alexander –he said, his voice trembling when he finished the story—Don’t let the doctors to amputate his arm that would kill Phai.

 

Again, the King didn’t know what to do. Nikandros was right, Hephaistion was a proud warrior, to amputate his arm would be one of the worst things that could happen to him, but, on the other hand, he didn’t want to lose him…

 

What now? –he asked himself. How was that the best day of his life had turned out to be the worst? Achilles walked to him and embraced him, he didn’t want to be alone in that moment and the King rested his hand on his shoulder.

 

- Where is doctor Philip? –asked Alexander.

 

- I’ll go for him –Lysanias stood up and went to look for the doctor.

 

- Ma’am, please you have to rest –said Netikerty, not knowing what to do with her mistress.

 

- I DON’T WANT TO REST! –she shouted hysterically—I have to…I…I have to be with grandpa before his funeral –she cried again. 

 

- What?! –exclaimed the King—What happened to Demetrios?

 

- He died –Nikandros’ voice trembled—He…he fought to protect Eni, her children, Aki, Thais, Yarsa and the girls…Grandpa was too old for this, the doctor –he had to take a deep breath or he would start crying again—The doctor said his heart didn’t resist, and he died shortly after we took him to the infirmary.

 

The King felt like the worst person on the planet. It had been his decision of abandoning the camp the one that had killed grandfather Demetrios, the one that had made that Achilles were kidnapped, the one that had caused that Hephaistion were injured now. And all for what? Darius had escaped anyway. He had already won the battle; he should have ordered to come back…

 

It was in moments like this when Alexander felt the entire weight of his responsibilities as a King. But now there was nothing he could do to remedy this situation, it was pointless to blame himself, he would have to learn from his mistakes and move on, because oh yes, he had done several mistakes, and he admitted that even if he would never say it aloud.

 

For a moment they could only hear Berenike crying and nobody spoke until Vashti arrived at the tent with Xsayarsa. She too looked very paled, and for her red and puffy eyes it was clear she had been crying. 

 

- I’m sorry… —said Xsayarsa catching their attention, he too was very sad, not only for Hephaistion’s wound, but because of grandfather Demetrios’ death, he had died to protect him, and that was something that the eunuch wasn’t going to forget any time soon—Vashti wants to know if she can help you.

 

For a moment all the present were utterly confused. Help? Since when Vashti wanted to help her master’s family? She hated Nikandros for the Gods sake! And what was she doing there in the first place?

 

- Tell her to accompany my sister –said Nikandros, recovering from the initial surprise—She is coming back to her tent.

 

Xsayarsa translated and Vashti nodded.

 

- I’m not going anywhere –said Berenike stubbornly.

 

- You’ll do as I say Berenike, and you’ll go back to your tent even if I have to drag you –said Nikandros raising his voice, all his emotions exploding in that moment, tired of stubbornness. She was making him very nervous crying like that, it would be better if she rested.

 

- I can take her to Leonnatos’ tent –said Kleitos, and all of them were so sad, confused and worried that nobody thought this was a weird proposal coming from him. Only Netikerty knew about his relationship with her mistress but she wasn’t going to say a word.

 

Alexander for his part said nothing, and just caressed Achilles’ back, as a silent apology for yelling at him, for having left him alone the day before. He truly loved this boy as if he were his own, but sometimes he let his emotions to control him, and that made him acted without thinking. When he lifted his face he found the very tired face of doctor Philip followed by Lysanias.

 

- How is Hephaistion? –asked the King, while Kleitos helped Berenike to stand up.

 

- Sleeping, sire –doctor Philip cleaned the sweat from his forehead with a piece of cloth, he was covered in blood that wasn’t his own, looking like a butcher—He has fever, and if he doesn’t get better by tomorrow morning I will have to amputate his arm.

 

- He will get better –said Alexander sure of his words as if he had saw the future with his own eyes—See that he is taken to my own quarters, and you will take care of him day and night, understood? –said the King and, even if doctor Philip had several patients, he knew better than to start arguing with Alexander when he was this upset.

 

- Understood, sire.

 

XXX

 

Alexander presided the funeral ceremony for his dead that same day, he wanted to be at Hephaistion’s side, taking care of him personally but he couldn’t…at least not yet, there were several things to do and only he could see to them. Hephaistion was right, every time he won a major battle, he became more a Great King and less his lover, but…The King shook his head, no, he would always be his beloved’s “Alex” and he would deal with his pending things as quickly as he could.

 

The whole army was in battle formation and wearing full armor, this time Alexander insisted that Achilles should be at his side during the ceremony and the boy helped him to perform his religious duties impeccably. That was also a lesson for the little Prince, he too wanted to be at his father’s side, he too wanted to cry with aunt Berenike, but he was a Macedonian Prince and one day he would be King, he wasn’t like the rest and his duty had to come first.

 

Alexander ordered that grandfather Demetrios were cremated with the rest of the officers who had fallen at Gaugamela, as if he had also taken part of the battle at the plain of Gaugamela, wearing his old armor, the one that had save his life so many times before. He looked so peaceful before the flames consumed him, proud and brave, he had lived his life as he wanted and died the way he wished. 

 

Berenike cried so much that her brothers and Leonnatos feared she was going to have a stroke or something; so many things had happened to her, she was lost, no longer recognizing the world around her. Her grandfather was dead, why then the sun was still shining on the sky? Why was the sky still blue? Why people could laugh around her? 

 

- Eni, listen to me –said uncle Althaimenes, taking her by the arms—We are all sad, but you have to calm down, my father wouldn’t want to see you like this. Don’t cry, do you remember how my father looked before he died? –Berenike moved her head up and down.

 

- He…he…smiled…

 

- That’s right, Eni, because he died as he lived…like a warrior –uncle Althaimenes’ voice trembled—He was happy, so…don’t feel sad.

 

Leonnatos embraced her to take her back to their tent, she truly needed to rest and he had sent Netikerty to prepare a tea to make her sleep.

 

- If we have a boy –he said softly to his wife—We’ll name him Demetrios.

 

And after one day and night crying Berenike finally smiled, taking a hand to her round belly. Her uncle was right, grandfather Demetrios died a happy man, he lived more than many people, 76 years, and had everything he could have wished for, people had cried for him, his family would always remember him, and he would watch over them for now on.

 

XXX

 

(1) and (2) Peter Green. Alexander of Macedon, p 295