Chapter 143

 

Warning: This is an –M– but I’m afraid is not for the reasons you are thinking =^^= It’s because of the violence and blood involve. You have been warned.

 

CHAPTER 143

 

When the door opened they found only darkness. The wooden windows were closed, covered with dirty and ragged curtains; all the lamps and candles inside were off, but they could perceive a fait aroma indicating that they had been burning a few moments before. Had the owner of the room left or could he be still inside? The foul smell was stronger but Hephaistion didn’t know exactly from where it came, it appeared to be everywhere, impregnated in every single item stored in the room, floating in the atmosphere. Soon Hero couldn’t take it any longer and ran out from the room, feeling the urged to throw up.

 

- There is nobody here –whispered Chrysaor, walking to Hephaistion’s side, his eyes trying to see beyond the darkness surrounding them and his imagination conjuring all kind of monsters and creatures that could come out from the shadows.

 

The pezetairos started to mumble a prayer but the General couldn’t make out the words, he saw how the superstitious Chrysaor took his hand to his chest, rubbing almost compulsively something hanging from his neck. This place…It was hard to put it in words, but this was a bad place that appeared to narrate without words unspeakable terrors. A strange sensation filled the 2 men, as if an evil presence were lurking behind the furniture, hidden in the shadows. 

 

The General didn’t answer. His eyes were getting used to the darkness and he could distinguish the silhouette of the furniture. There weren’t many things inside: a bed, a chair, a trunk, a table…But it was precisely the table that caught Hephaistion attention, he could see several tools resting on it. He approached it and ran his fingers with cautions over the surface; they were knifes of different sizes, all of them stained with, what Hephaistion thought, was dried blood.

 

He cursed.

 

- What? –asked Chrysaor, ready to draw his dagger.

 

- I cut my finger –whispered Hephaistion, watching the knives as if trying to find the culprit. They were very sharp.  

 

A light came through the door, a great contrast with the gloom around them, the General took the hilt of his sword, his body tense, the adrenaline keeping all his senses on alert; he turned expecting everything, from a monster with 3 heads to a simple girl with pigtails, but he found only Hero holding the lamp that, until a few minutes ago, was on the hallway. Hephaistion loosen the grip of his sword but didn’t relax, he was sure they weren’t alone, he couldn’t explain how he knew but he did know, and it looked like a bad idea to let the guard down.

 

- What’s that? –asked Chrysaor, walking to the table with the knives, thanks to the light he just noticed the sharp tools and, as the General had guessed, they were covered in dried blood, but the blood wasn’t only on the blades it covered also the table and the floor. Round red-black stains, some small, some a little bigger, as if something, or someone, had been dripping. The pezetairos took one big and heavy knife and frowned watching the blade—What’s this? –he pointed at the rests of something attached at the edge.

 

Hero came to have a look and got pale in an instant.

 

- I think is… —he swallowed—Skin. 

 

Hephaistion wrinkled his nose as he walked near the bed, he didn’t fancy the idea of touching those blankets, not even for all the gold in the Great King’s treasure. One thing was sure, this man Aster, didn’t care one iota about hygiene, the foul smell was a mix of sweat, unwashed humanity, urine, and rests of food: a moldy bread and a cheese that had expired days ago, dried blood, and the unmistakable smell of decay.

 

The General could feel the bile rising in his throat but he forced himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to show a weakness in front of his subordinate and the pezetairos, he was the General of the Agema, a Somatophylakes and most importantly, he was Alexander’s lover, he had to behave appropriately.

 

Hephaistion kicked the trunk, and was going to see what was inside when they all heard a noise, as if something heavy had fell. The General took his sword, Chrysaor his dagger and Hero jumped scared so high, that he could have hit his head with the ceiling if he were a little taller.

 

- W-w-what is…that? –Hero’s voice was drowned in fear, and the light of the oil-lamp danced frantically in his trembling hand.

 

Chrysaor turned to look at Hephaistion, and saw his profile, a loose lock crossing his face and his index finger on his lips asking for silence. The General drew his sword, walking slowly to the back of the room. He found a wooden wall but he was sure the sound had come from here, how was that possible?

 

Unless the sound came from next room –he thought, examining the wall, and when his eyes reached the bottom…—What the…?

 

Hephaistion hadn’t noticed first but there was a hidden door, he could see a line of light and was completely sure, as if he could see through the wall, that Aster was there. Chrysaor drew his sword too and got ready with his dagger in his other hand; Hero was too scared to move but that served the General fine, he just needed a little light.

 

Hephaistion took a deep breath and kicked the door with all his forces, but nothing happened.

 

- Let me help you –said Chrysaor and the 2 of them pushed at the same time. The wood cracked and the door opened, hitting hard the wall, and revealing a very small room lit by several candles.

 

- What the…? –the General stared at the sight in front of him with eyes round and wide open, part of him was in shock and couldn’t understand quite well what was this, another part was scared, but above everything else he felt repulsion.

 

The floor was covered with blood, the kind of stains you would find in a slaughterhouse, as if corpses, or corpses parts, had been dragged along the floor, even the walls were red and over a table, at one corner, were several bloody packages wrapped in cloths. A man was lying on the floor, curled up, extremely pale, bleeding profoundly from a terrible wound in his leg. Hephaistion approached him with caution and saw that someone had amputated the man’s leg and crudely covered it with a cloth.

 

- Chrysaor! –the General called him, trying to keep his voice steady but it trembled slightly—Chrysaor!—but the pezetairos didn’t answer—Chrys…—he never finished that, when he turned he found a sword pointing directly at his neck.

 

- If I were you I would stay very still, General.

 

Hephaistion narrowed his eyes, his heart beat savagely and his mind worked quickly, trying to understand what was happening, how was that his situation had changed so drastically and for a moment he was tempted to ask if all this was a joke, but the shining blade in front of him spoke loud enough of how dangerous and serious was his situation. His dark gray eyes moved to the door when he heard footsteps and there he found another man, quickly tying the hands and feet of the unconscious form of Chrysaor, lying on the floor. 

 

- It was you all this time –said the General holding the gaze of Hero in front of him, holding the sword. From Hero’s eyes had vanished all traces of fear and were replaced by the most disturbing thing Hephaistion had seen in his life: hunger, a vicious and horrible hunger that appeared to consume him from inside, burning his body and clouding his mind, an impulse stronger than anything else, beating with more force than his heart, dictating each one of his actions.

 

Hero smiled, the point of his sword dangerously caressing Hephaistion’s throat, while Doros, the infirmary slave, dragged Chrysaor outside, limping badly on the process.

 

- You aren’t as clever as everybody thinks –said Hero, even his voice was different, he was another person, a dangerous person who wouldn’t stop at anything to get what he wanted—Yes, it was I the one who kidnapped the dying men from the infirmary…with Doros’ help, of course –he moved his head to point at the door, but his unnerving eyes never left the General. 

 

- Why did you come to me seeking my help? Why did you ask me to find the culprit if it was you? –asked Hephaistion while trying to find a way out; he needed to be careful or Hero and Doros would kill Chrysaor.

 

- Can’t you see? Because I want you –said Hero, opening his eyes slightly—I have wanted you since the first time I saw you, so…beautiful and strong, so full of life.

 

That was the creepiest thing someone had ever said to the General.

 

- And you planned to drag me into a trap with all that crap about seeking revenge because someone had killed your cousin –that wasn’t a question. The General wanted to keep him talking until he came up with a plan.

 

- No, no, no sir. The story of my cousin its true, just that, you see, I was the one who ate him –that sent a shiver down Hephaistion’s spine.

 

- And who is he? –the General pointed at the unconscious man lacking a leg, lying over a growing pool of his own blood.

 

- That one, sir, is Aster…or was Aster –Hero explained with a calm that resulted unnerving—I must say that thanks to him the plan worked handsomely. He always was a weird character, and to make things even better, he had been limping after a fight weeks ago.

 

- What are you doing with Chrysaor?

 

Hero sighed.

 

- This conversation is boring me –he said, and Hephaistion heard footsteps. Doros was coming back, he had to act quickly.

 

The General moved fast, not giving Hero a moment to react, so fast that Hero didn’t know what was happening until he was lying on the floor, the world upside down. Hero was strong but he was no match for Hephaistion and soon he was writhing on the floor with a broken arm, next to the lifeless form of his victim Aster. Doros came as quickly as he could when he heard his lover screaming, but he was easier to beat, after all he was just a slave, not a soldier, and his leg was in bad conditions. 

 

Hephaistion took his belt and tied Hero and the slave, not paying the slightest attention to Hero’s complains and screams when he twisted his broken arm, at this point, the General couldn’t possible care less about what happened to him, not after everything he had seen that night.

 

- Chrysaor, Chrysaor –Hephaistion shook the pezetairos, lying on the room’s floor next to the trunk. Doros had hit him hard on the back of his head but it was nothing serious. He started to wake up, slowly, squeezed his eyes in pain, feeling a little dizzy. 

 

- Mm…—the General helped him to sit down and the pezetairos took a hand to his head, it was as if he had a drum inside, beating savagely without mercy.

 

- Chrysaor, open your eyes, how many fingers do you see? –asked the General, showing him 2 fingers.

 

Chrysaor saw him first with eyes wide opened and then he squinted. 

 

- Four? –Hephaistion smiled and the pezetairos rubbed the back of his head—You know?…This whole thing was worth just for your smile.

 

- Shut up –the General stood up, feeling a little embarrassed with the compliment, they had almost ended eaten by a cannibal and the only thing the pezetairos could think was about him. He shook his head and gave Chrysaor his hand to help him.

 

To say Alexander that was furious when he heard about what had happened with Hero and Doros was to say too little. He was beyond fury and contempt and also, even if he didn’t want to admit it, in shock. How could someone eat another person? After his shock, Alexander scolded me for hours, in his opinion I should have never involved myself in this situation in the first place, and, if I wanted to investigate, I should have tell him first.

 

I had nothing to say in my defense so I kept my mouth shut hearing him speak. I understood my King, he was worried about me, thinking that, if something had gone wrong, I would have ended as the principal plate in Hero’s meal. As you can imagine Alexander ordered Hero and Doros’ execution and that was the end of them but not of their tale, months after this and the men kept talking about it, making the tale even more scary and unreal each time it was told.

 

Months passed, winter came and went, spring came and went, and summer arrived. That year saw no celebrations for the Persian New Year; tradition dictated that the Great King had to preside over the procession to renewal his kingship, and Alexander had waited patiently that the Magi would ask him to take the place of honor, to be recognized as Ahura Mazda’s representative on earth, but that didn’t happen. The Persians closed their doors in front of the noses of the King’s envoys and preferred to cancel everything than to have an outsider, even worst, a blasphemer, murderer and thief, in the sacred place of the Great King.  

 

There was a great difference between an Asian King and a King from the west. A King, as we Macedonians understood it, was our sovereign, a King for the Persians or the Egyptians, was also a God. From the Asian people there was no distinction between a ruler and a God, something that later would cause Alexander many many problems with the Macedonians, but we’ll come to that in it’s due time. But, as you can see, it wasn’t a simple matter for the Persians to recognize an outsider as their Great King, not even if the outsider in question had defeated 2 times their, so called, Great King.  

 

It goes without saying that Alexander wasn’t happy, for days he had been very quiet, thoughtful, distracted, spending an alarming amount of time alone. I had an idea of what he was thinking and that was what scared me the most. Persepolis would have a very regrettable end...

 

That day Achilles was sick. He had been sick for a week now, and even if this was not uncommon, because of the boy’s fragile constitution, the uncommon thing was that not one of the King’s doctors had been able to cure him. They all thought he had influenza but after prescribing him to rest and trying with all the remedies they could think of, not even doctor Philip seemed to know what was wrong with the young Prince.

 

- This is a most strange thing, sire –said doctor Philip to the King, both standing on the hallway outside Achilles magnificent bedroom.

 

By right he should be in Cyrus Ochus’ bedroom, after all he was now the Persian Prince and heir to the Empire his adopted father was creating, but Achilles didn’t want to throw his friend out, and he had chosen another room. Hephaistion and his mother were inside with the boy, and Antigone had prepared her grandson a tea with honey to help him with his sneezing and coughing.

 

- The Prince is fine at noon –doctor Philip continued explaining— But the rest of the day he is sneezing and coughing and can’t breath, the worst is during mornings. 

 

- What does he have? –asked a very concerned Alexander.

 

- We all think he has influenza –said doctor Philip—It’s very possible, after all, it has been raining a lot; but…I have never seen influenza like this –he took a moment to choose his words. He had known Alexander since he was a boy, he knew their King was a righteous man but he also knew how horrible was his temper when he was angry or concerned, and he had to be very careful in the way he gave him bad news— It’s also possible that Persian diseases are different, and the Prince spends a lot of time at the city, he could have caught something there.

 

The King nodded. If this were true, then he would have to ask a Persian how to cure his adopted son, he should summon Bahman to have a look at the Prince.

 

- Do what you can –said Alexander at the end.

 

Do you want to know what was wrong with Achilles? Well, he had an allergy to a fungus of the moisture, when it started to rain at Persepolis he got worst and nobody knew how to treat him.

 

When Alexander entered the Prince’s bedroom he found Antigone sitting on the bed, rubbing the boy’s feet to keep him warm, a servant picking up an empty cup, another one arranging the vials with the medicines on the table and Hephaistion sitting on a chair at Achilles’ side. The boy was awake and deep in conversation with his father until they saw the King.

 

Antigone was going to stand up when she saw him, but Alexander shook his head. No matter how many times he had asked his beloved’s mother to treat him as another one of his sons, she refused, not because she didn’t like him, but because she thought it was inappropriate.

 

- How are you feeling? –asked the King.

 

- Tired –answered Achilles, his voice sounded weird thanks to his nasal congestion and he was covered with so many blankets that he looked like an oversized baby.

 

- You’ll be fine –Alexander pinched his cheek playfully making him smile.

 

- I’ll go for another pair of socks –said Antigone, standing up—Do you want something, Aki?

 

- Cookies and milk? –his grandmother smiled.

 

- Of course, honey. And you Phai, sire?

 

- I’m fine mom –said Hephaistion. 

 

- Thank you, Antigone.

 

Hephaistion’s mother smiled and left them.

 

- You look tired too, dad –Achilles pointed out.

 

- I have been busy –said Alexander, taking a seat on the bed.

 

- Are you finally going to tell us what’s going on with you? –asked Hephaistion, leaning his back against the chair—You have been awfully quiet lately. 

 

The King took a moment before answering. A strange silence fell upon them, and, in that stillness they could hear a slight whistle every time the Prince breath; Hephaistion frowned, he was worried and the fact that nobody seem to know what was wrong with his son did help to make him feel better, he would do anything to see Achilles fine again. The boy felt his father’s gaze and turned, he seemed to know what was he thinking because he smiled, as if saying ‘don’t worry, I’m fine’.

 

Alexander took his time to choose his words. Last time he had taken a decision, like the one he was considering in this moment, he had ended fighting with Hephaistion and yelling at Achilles in public. He wasn’t a fool, he learned from his mistakes, and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his beloved again. 

 

- I have been thinking to destroy Persepolis –he said in a calm voice but his words alarmed Hephaistion and Achilles.

 

- Why? –asked the General before his son could open his mouth.

 

- You saw what happened during the New Year Festival –said the King as if that explained everything.

 

- But…There was no festival –said Achilles, and the look in Alexander’s eyes gave him the answer.

 

- That’s exactly my point, there was no festival, these Persians don’t want to recognize me as the Great King, so I’ll have to force them –said the King.

 

- Dad, this is not like that, its not like they don’t want, its more like they can’t –said the Prince, trying to sit—You are not Persian, you are not part of the Achaemenid family, you are not part of the Seven Nobles Families whose ancestors overthrown the impostor Gaumata, you don’t believe in Ahura Mazda, and you sacked their sacred city. You are asking them to recognize you not as only as their King but also as a God. 

 

Alexander looked at him amazed. Yes, Achilles sometimes didn’t behave like a child, and that day was a great example, he argued better than many of his advisors put together and his knowledge in Persian history and customs was as good as his own knowledge about the Greeks.

 

- Fine –said the King, talking to him not like a child but like another member of his staff—For the sake of the argument lets say you are right and they can’t recognize me as the Great King. You spoke from the Persians’ point of view, now I want you to think like a Macedonian King, what will you do with the Persians?

 

Achilles took the challenge seriously and kept silent for a moment; this made Hephaistion smile, his son wasn’t going to be type who spoke before thinking and that couldn’t make him happier. 

 

- I wouldn’t try to force them to adapt to me nor would I try to behave like their Great King –said the boy— Persians are a complicated society, they have a history more ancient than ours, and they have too many customs and a different and strong religion. It’s a bad idea to force them to change.

 

- Then what? –Alexander was intrigued.

 

- I would rule them not as a Great King but as completely different kind of ruler; with the same powers yes, but not the same name and a different kind of government, I would divide the Persian Empire and treat each region separately…—but Achilles had to stop talking when he suffered a cough attack.

 

Hephaistion stood up and looked for water.

 

- Aki, the Persian Empire is already divided in satrapies –said Alexander while the boy drank the water.

 

The Prince had to wait a moment before speaking again, fighting to breath. Hephaistion sat behind him and rubbed his back.

 

- I know, but it’s not enough –the boy continued—Everything should be divided, including Thrace and Greece, and to treat each region like…—he coughed again—I would let each region to have their own customs…

 

- You have thought a lot about this –said Hephaistion, as surprised as the King.

 

- Sometimes…Cyrus and I like to talk about…these things –Achilles had to breath through his mouth. 

 

- I’m glad to know that –Alexander smiled, pleased and proud—But what you are saying Aki, is something it can’t be done now. We are in the middle of hostile territory and I can’t risk to start doing this kind of changes now, I need a fast and drastic solution.

 

- But, there is something I don’t understand –said the Prince.

 

- What is it? –asked Alexander.

 

- Why to destroy Persepolis? –asked Achilles—What can you achieve with that?

 

- That’s obvious Aki –this time Hephaistion was the one who answered—You said it yourself, Persepolis is a sacred city, besides it’s the most tangible sign of the Achaemenid power. It’s the perfect place where a revolt can start.

 

Achilles fell silent again. He liked Persepolis and he didn’t agree with Alexander but he could see Hephaistion’s point.

 

- I understand…but I don’t like it –said the boy.

 

- When you become King, son, you’ll have to do many things you won’t like –said the King, caressing his cheek fondly. He couldn’t love this boy more, not even if he had been his biological son. He was just perfect.

 

XXX

 

- Alex, stop –asked Hephaistion, laughing and pushing the King playfully. They were sharing a couch during that night’s banquet, that was nothing out of the ordinary, but this party truly was. This party was one of the most spectacular, decadent and crazy parties that the King had ever given.

 

What were they celebrating? Nobody seemed to have a clear idea but that didn’t matter that night as long as the wine, delicious food and gorgeous women kept coming.

 

Every single one of the lucky men that had been invited were having the time of their lives, and one look at the faces of the King’s most trusted companions and officers, was enough to see that Alexander had overdid himself this time. Even Chrysaor was there. He was supposedly to be watching the Prince, but when Achilles saw his expression of utterly misery when he heard that the boy was still too weak to leave his bedroom, and, even if he were in perfect conditions, he wouldn’t be invited for obvious and very beautiful and naked reasons, the Prince had given him the night off.

 

Alexander was over his beloved feeling his strong body pressed against him, sliding his lips up and down his neck, nipping the tender skin until he left a mark, his hands running through his thighs all the way up, until they disappeared under his beloved’s chiton. They never gave this kind of displays in public but that night, everybody was so busy with their own business and the both of them had drunk so much, that they decided to give their modesty and decency a break.

 

- You are tickling me –purred Hephaistion, sighing and moaning softly when he felt the King’s fingers reaching his butt. Alexander could feel the beating of his beloved’s heart against his lips while leaving a trail of wet kisses over his throat—Are you sure you want to do this here? –sighed the General. 

 

- I have never done this at a banquet –whispered the King, licking the skin behind his ear and making Hephaistion’s body melt under him.

 

- Mm…I think you are the only one who…Nn… hasn’t done this during a banquet –he smiled with evilness when Alexander stopped kissing him and looked at him through narrowed eyes.

 

- What do you mean by ‘I’m the only one who hasn’t’? –his serious expression was so out of place in that moment that Hephaistion laughed without noise. He spread his legs to let the King rest more comfortably over him.

 

- What? I never told you about that time at Darius’ camp? –his beloved teased him.

 

- Hephaistion! –Alexander scolded him but his General laughed amused. He put his arms around his neck and kissed him, bending his knees up at each side of the King. Soon Alexander forgot what they were talking about, he took Hephaistion’s thigh, rubbing the creamy skin with his thumb, sliding his hand up, up, up, and burying it between his legs.

 

The General gasped and moaned inside his King’s mouth when he felt his playful fingers on his manhood. It was amazing how his whole body burned with so little, he felt like melting and turning into water, he sighed and moaned, the urged of rocking his hips asking for more, running through his system…But they weren’t alone, and the voices, laughter, and shouts, the sound of cups and plates, steps… Everything! was somehow exciting but at the same time it prevented him to do what his body was asking.  

 

Hephaistion hid his face in Alexander’s neck; from a far no one could distinguish what were they doing exactly but more than one dirty mind had let their imaginations fly watching them together like that. Many had dreamed about the beautiful General and many cursed they luck and envied their King knowing that Hephaistion would not give himself to another.

 

XXX

 

- This room was built by Xerxes –said Ptolemy, a little drunk but still able to stand on his feet and talk more or less understandably—This magnificent room where our King now celebrates this great party was built by the same man who sacked Greece –he wobbled a bit but regained his balance.

 

- I’ll drink to that –said Perdikkas raising his cup.

 

- To Xerxes sacking Greece? –asked Leonnatos a little lost and Meleager slapped the back of his head.

 

- No! To us, having fun at Xerxes’ expenses –said Perdikkas and they emptied their cups.

 

- This is a beautiful and cursed place –Ptolemy continued while Thais filled his cup again.

 

- Why cursed? –asked Leonnatos. He had eaten so much that one could see his round belly under his chiton, probably next day he would be cursing the Gods and his destiny suffering the mother of all stomachaches but the food was just exquisite and he couldn’t stop himself.

 

- Because it was built with stolen gold from Greece –said the commander as if he had been there when Xerxes built the place.

 

- Really? –asked Leonnatos, he too was a little tipsy as everybody else.

 

- What would you do to this place then? –asked Meleager, slapping a half naked girl who passed running in front of him.

 

- Thais you are Athenian, you tell us, what would you do with this place? –asked Ptolemy, smiling and kissing her cheek loudly.

 

The hetaira smiled and thinking they were just joking, said:

 

- Burn it down.

 

XXX