Chapter 147

 

CHAPTER 147

 

Alexander had to reach the Persians, this had always been his priority but now it was imperative. All his plans were about to crumble in a heartbeat and he couldn’t allow it, not now that he had came this far, not now that he was so close to put an end to this struggle. He had overcome everything: cold, heat, hunger, thirst, tiredness; he had faced death every day, he had been sick, wounded, kidnapped… and he would not let a motherless treacherous dog to steal his Empire.

 

The path from Macedonia to these forgotten lands of the Caspian Gates was covered with blood, tears and suffering, all his men had sacrificed something to be here and they couldn’t give up.

 

Just a little more, just one more sacrifice to own everything –thought Alexander.

 

The young King hated Darius as he had never hated a man before, he had many reasons to rejoice with the news that his own men had betrayed him, after all the so called Great King had tortured his beloved, sold him as a slave in a far away land at the other side of the Mediterranean, endanger his son’s life, threaten his own life, and had cut the hands of his injured men before the battle of Issus. But still, he couldn’t rejoice, not knowing that he would never be the legitimate ruler of the Empire unless he captured his hateful enemy alive.

 

Darius had no honor, he had used low means to take revenge on Hephaistion for tricking him going as a spy to his camp, he had ran away for the battlefield not once but twice, he had abandoned his family, abandoned his people, and Alexander wouldn’t bother in saving him if it weren’t so useful. Darius alive was his ticket to the throne, Darius as a prisoner of an usurper, or dead, meant only more fighting, more suffering.

 

But one problem at a time and, in those moments, what he needed was to reach the Persians’ camp as soon as possible and the only way to achieve that, according to his guides, was to avoid the mountains. And so the King chose to follow the longest but, ironically, fastest route during the night, to avoid the oppressing heat. 

 

- I want to go with you –asked Achilles, when he talked like that he looked older, a young man sure of what he wanted and ready to risk his life if that was necessary.

 

- I’m sorry son, but I can’t take you with us –answered Alexander, mounting his horse.

 

- Why not? I can ride as fast as any of your men –the Prince insisted, standing at his side, he wasn’t going to give up so easily. He couldn’t do a thing during the march to reach Ecbatana and he was eager to show Alexander that he was worth of being called his heir. The King turned and held his gaze.

 

Hephaistion was right. Achilles was a lot like him: determined and high-spirited, the same as he, the Prince was a precocious boy and he was sure that, if the late King Philip had taken him to invade Asia when he was almost 8 years old, he would have behaved exactly like Achilles, after all, hadn’t he entertained a Persian embassy when he was a little younger than his Prince? Alexander took him by the shoulder.

 

- Son, I’m sure you are as good rider as your father but I can’t take you with us, not now –the Prince looked disappointed but he said nothing; at least the King had the good sense of not mentioning his delicate condition and the fact that he was still recovering—You’ll follow me with the rest of the army as soon as Koinos is back, but right now, you help me more if you stay.   

 

- Yes, father –Alexander patted his shoulder.

 

- Aki, I’m proud you –said the King meaning every word—Not any boy, or man for that matter, would have endured a journey like this –Achilles smiled—Health to you, son!

 

- Health to you, father!

 

The King ordered his men to ride without pause, like mad men, just stopping the bare minimum not to kill the horses. Time was against them. Hephaistion had endured journeys like this before, when they pursuit Darius after the battle of Issus and after the battle of Gaugamela, but neither had been this long and on such rough ground under that merciless heat. They rode by night, a small relief, but they were still tired after the previous days; they all had accumulated tiredness, but the same as their King, they knew it was just a little more and they would end everything.   

 

They reached the camp where Darius had been held prisoner at dawn. Hephaistion was sure that, as soon as they dismounted, the horses would drop dead, but apparently they had very good horses, or a very good friend in Olympus, because the animals resisted. The General patted his horse’s neck, as apologizing for the hard march, and turned to survey the place, feeling his mouth dry and his eyes sore. The remains of the camp were deserted now, but smoke could still be seen in the braziers. 

 

- Someone left in a hurry –said Leonnatos yawning at Hephaistion’s side, covered in dust from head to toe, which made the General think that he should not be much better than his friend. They all were tired but that didn’t prevent them from keeping their senses on alert, expecting everything from an ambush to a mimes’ parade.

 

The General drew his swords, the swords grandfather Demetrios had given him, following his King closely while the rest of the men hurried to look around. It was unlikely that Darius would still be here, the only living things they could see where a few servants, too old or too young to follow the Persian army, paled and terrified, watching the newcomers as if they were demons, not men; and a pair of goats. 

 

Still, Hephaistion didn’t let his guard down; this was the perfect place for a surprise attack and there was also the possibility that Darius wasn’t a prisoner and that he had let them believe that luring the Macedonians into a trap.

 

No. Now I’m just paranoid –said the General to himself; remembering his dream.

 

- Alexander! –Nikandros called him. Hephaistion and the King turned at the same time, finding the lochagos accompanied by an old man of sunken eyes and long face—This man says he was Darius’ interpreter; he is Greek –explained Hephaistion’s brother, trying to clean the dust from his forehead and only making everything worst. 

 

The King sheathed his sword, and approached the old man, the dusty and rocky ground creaking at each step.

 

- What’s your name?

 

- Demoleon, sire –the man looked tired and worried but not scared. In his eyes the King could see a man who had seen too much in too little time, a man whose life changed in the blink of an eye and that intrigued him.   

 

- Where is Darius, Demoleon? –asked Alexander, keeping his voice calm even if inside he was impatient for news.

 

The old man shook his head and for a moment the King expected the worst, that Darius was already dead.

 

- He is gone, sire. The satrap Bessus put him under arrest and declared himself Great King, now his men call him Artaxerxes IV –Demoleon explained, materializing Alexander’s fears.

 

Artaxerxes IV? You have to be kidding me –thought the King but his face remained impassive.

 

- Is he dead?

 

- No, sire –he old man coughed, and wrapped himself in his cloak covering his mouth from the dust—Darius is alive. Nights ago there was an argument among the Persians. They received reinforcements coming from the eastern provinces and that increased the power of the satrap of Bactria.  Some men, among them Nabarzanes, wanted that Darius handed his crown to Bessus because he has a better chance to fight against you. Darius refused and 2 nights after that Bessus lured Darius into his camp and captured him. Artabazus, the last Persian noble still loyal to Darius, refused to follow Bessus or to acknowledge him as Great King, but several of his men stayed.

 

Alexander nodded, he knew Artabazus. The Persian had been his father’s guest years ago. Artabazus had been a rebel, when he was satrap of western Asia, he had refused to pay obedience to the Great King Artaxerxes Ochus and had started a revolt with other satraps. At first, Artabazus had won several battles thanks to his Greek mercenaries, Greek allies, including the Thebans at the front of the famous Pammenes, and also with the help of 2 Rhodians, 2 brothers, Mentor and Memnon, yes the same Memnon who fought against Alexander at the Granicus, and who was Artabazus’ brother-in-law since the satrap was married to Memnon’s sister. But at the end he was defeated by the Great King’s general, Autophradates, and taking Memnon’s advice, had sought refuge with King Philip. 

 

At the end Mentor, who worked as a mercenary General for the new Great King Darius, obtained a pardon for Artabazus and Memnon and they could go back to Persia. Artabazus, who was also Barsine’s father, had always been a loyal subject to Darius, and even if he had fought against the Macedonians at Gaugamela, Alexander didn’t have a grudge against him.  

 

- Why did the men stay? Did they fight to free Darius? –asked the King with interesting. He wanted to know every detail of the new situation.

 

- It’s complicated for a common man, sire –answered the old man—Artabazus’ men stay with Bessus because they don’t have another man to follow. Besides, the satrap of Bactria has Achaemenid blood in him; he is a suitable candidate for the throne.

 

Unlike me –thought the King.

 

- What about the Greek mercs? –asked Hephaistion, the same as his King he was eager to understand everything about the situation with the Persians. 

 

- They stood loyal to the end –answered Demoleon—But they were heavily outnumbered, they couldn’t fight to free Darius –he made a pause, remembering everything, the shouts, the insults, the clash of weapons— At the end they chose to leave, refusing to serve Bessus. 

 

Alexander nodded, it was clear that he couldn’t waste time. If he hurried, he could find Bessus and rescued Darius. They couldn’t be far.

 

- Do you know where Bessus and his men went? –asked the King but Demoleon shook his head.

 

- No, sire –he answered—But I have an idea.

 

That was good enough for Alexander. He let his men rest and, as soon as everyone was ready, they continued their journey. 

 

- If I had known that Alexander was going to make us chase Darius like this, I would have asked to be left with the heavy infantry –Leonnatos complained, riding under the terrible sun—Perdikkas, Meleager and Krateros must be having a great time on the Royal Road. 

 

Hephaistion smiled.

 

- I don’t think you would have been able to stay behind, Leon –said his friend, riding at his side—After all, you are a somatophylax.

 

Leonnatos growled, making the General laughed again.

 

They reached a village next day. Here they were informed that Bessus and his men had rested in this place just a day before. Those were good news, it meant they were close, but one look at his men told Alexander that they were so exhausted that couldn’t continue like this. What he really needed in those moments was a shortcut, a way to reach the Persians quickly because he wasn’t sure his men could endure this crazy pursuit for much longer.

 

- Alexander –Hephaistion approached him, while his guides asked the locals for a route that could take them faster to where the Persians were—I need to talk to you.

 

- Now? –that really wasn’t a good moment, the King had too many things in mind, but he also knew that Hephaistion wouldn’t bother him with trivial things.

 

- It’s important –the gravity in his beloved’s voice caught his attention and he nodded.

 

- I’m listening.

 

- Alex, Darius is dead –said the General as if he had seen his corpse. It had been a little abrupt but he really didn’t know how to explain something like this.

 

It took a moment for the King to fully understand what he had heard. 

 

- How can you be so sure…? Wait. You dreamed about this, don’t you? –when his beloved nodded Alexander felt a shiver—Since when do you know this?

 

- Since we were at Ecbatana –answered Hephaistion.

 

- Since we…? Why you didn’t tell me? –the King wasn’t angry just surprised.

 

- It doesn’t matter now, there was nothing we could do to prevent this –the General shook his head— But you have to be ready, Darius must be dead by now.  

 

Alexander nodded. At each moment his situation was more and more complicated.

 

I don’t want to bore you with the details of our journey but I can tell you that we took a short cut, shown to us by the locals, and again we rode as if we were chased by demons. At some point I was sure I wasn’t going to make it, too tired, too hungry and too thirsty, many of us had to leave the pursuit, but somehow the rest managed to reach the Persians when dawn was breaking.

 

Hephaistion was so tired when they spotted the Persians that at first he thought he was dreaming, but the triumphant shouts of his Companions took him out of his stupor and after blinking several times saw that, against all odds, they had reached their prey. By now, only 60 riders remained with Alexander, and one look at the Persians in front of them, told the General they were outnumbered, not to mention tired and almost incapable to defend themselves. If the enemy decided to attack, the General had no idea of what they were going to do to prevent that their King became a prisoner along with Darius.  

 

XXX

 

Bessus’ eyes doubled their size when he saw the Macedonians behind them. He blinked hoping that they would disappear, as if they were just a bad dread. The satrap was sure they were at least 2 days march ahead of the Macedonians, how was this possible? What kind of magic had Alexander summoned? The satrap, now self-called Great King, cursed; he turned and saw that the heavy wagons of their baggage were slowing them, if they continued like this Alexander would kill them all in a matter of minutes.

 

- We can attack –proposed Nabarzanes, watching Bessus’ indecision—The barbarian doesn’t have too many men with him.

 

- Not that we can see –said Bessus, surveying the surroundings, fearing an ambush—You know the barbarian, this might well be a trap. No, I won’t risk it, take Darius on a horse, leave the baggage behind and lets get the hell out of here.

 

Nabarzanes nodded.

 

- Bring me a horse! –shouted the Chiliarch, approaching the wagon where his former sovereign was kept, watching the Macedonians even closer. He too didn’t have an idea of how was that Alexander found them so quickly, but this wasn’t the time to be admiring the enemy.

 

Nabarzanes’ men opened the wagon’s door and tried to drag Darius out, but the ex Great King refused. He could be in chains, but he was still a tall and strong man. 

 

- What are you doing? Mount, quickly! –ordered one man, pushing Darius, but he didn’t move and raised his head proudly.

 

- I’ll not ride with traitors. 

 

- Do you realize that if you stay, you’ll be at the barbarian’s mercy –said Nabarzanes, holding Darius’ gaze—He hates you, everybody knows that, and he would torture you for days, making you pay for everything you did to him.

 

Darius felt a shiver running down his spine.

 

You will pay for this, you have my word on that and I always keep my promises…

 

He heard Hephaistion’s voice as clear as if he were standing in front of him, the words the beautiful General had said to him the night he ordered Melkar to whip him. Why hadn’t he listened to Melkar? The Carthaginian was right; he should have killed the three of them: Alexander, Hephaistion and Achilles that night at the abandoned fortress. But his anger had blinded him and now…

 

Now Melkar was dead, his dead wife was dead, half of his Empire was lost, the sacred city of Persepolis had been sacked and his palaces burned, his son, daughters and mother were at the mercy of the same he had offended and almost killed, his brother Oxyathres had to run away for his life when Bessus betrayed him…He was nothing. 

 

Darius knew Nabarzanes was telling the truth. Alexander hated him and he would probably be safer with Bessus but his pride didn’t allow him to run away with a traitor, even less knowing that they both shared the same Achaemenid blood, that they were related. He had nothing now, he was just a prisoner but at least he would preserve his dignity. He had run away many times, he would never do it again.

 

- I’ll stay –Darius insisted.

 

- What is taking so long? –shouted Bessus, anxiously watching the Macedonians approaching.

 

Nabarzanes stretched his arm, giving his hand to Darius.

 

- I’ll ask just one more time, come.

 

- I prefer to die –answered Darius through clenched teeth.

 

- Nabarzanes! –Bessus shouted, his voice with a slight trace of fear, now he could distinguish Alexander’s face, they had to go.

 

- Darius refuses to come –shouted the Chiliarch back.

 

The satrap cursed.

 

- Kill him! –there was no other way, they couldn’t stay longer and couldn’t let the Macedonian King to capture Darius alive. It was a pity, Bessus thought, after all the former Great King was very valuable alive, but there was no other way.

 

XXX

 

The Macedonians chased Bessus’ retinue through the rocky path, sometimes losing sight of them because of the ground shape. Alexander could feel the adrenaline running through his body, his heart beating against his throat, harder than the horses’ hooves; it was an exhilarating sensation, almost arousing, to now that his prey was just a few paces from him. He was so close to his goal, after so many days riding without rest, the feeling that all would be over soon was intoxicating. 

 

They saw the Persians’ baggage train abandoned at the side of a creek, a thin line of water running through the rocks, and saw how the enemy divided their forces taking different routes.

 

- Shit! –the King cursed, not believing his eyes, could the Gods be so cruel? And, where was Darius? Who should he follow? Bessus? or Nabarzanes?—HALT!

 

The exhausted Macedonians, and their equally exhausted horses, greeted the order with sighs. Alexander dismounted, as if tiredness were nothing for him, and watched the Persians running away, tiny figures at the distance.

 

- Where are they going? –he asked, turning to face his guide, and the man squinted, watching the Persians.  

 

- Er…One group is heading in the direction of Hyrcania, I think, the other… —he made a pause— They are heading to Bactria, sire.

 

- What are we going to do now? –asked Kleitos, approaching him as tired as the rest but looking much better. He would be damn if someone saw him as weary as he felt.

 

- Good question –muttered the King, his eyes still on the distance. Who was more likely to have taken Darius? Bessus was his instant choice, if he really wanted to be acknowledged as Great King he needed Darius close to him. But, Bactria? He was in no conditions to chase him in those moments to Bactria, and as much as he regretted it, he would have to go back, wait, and continue the chase later—Search the baggage train –he ordered.

 

XXX

 

Not far from there, a young soldier called Polystratus, following the guide’s instructions, arrived at the creek. He was as thirsty as he was tired and, since his King didn’t have intentions to let them rest anytime soon, he would satisfy his other need. He squatted to drink water, hearing his companions searching among the Persians’ baggage, and left his helmet at his side.

 

What he would give for a cold-water bath. He sighed and took water in his cupped hands, the sensation of the liquid going down his throat was one of the most fabulous things that had happened to him since they left Ecbatana, he bent over to drink some more when he saw a driverless wagon pulled by an ox. The animal was walking without direction but what made the sight even more stranger was the fact that the ox had been stabbed and was bleeding through several wounds. Why would someone stab an ox? Oxen were expensive; why not just take him as booty?

 

Polystratus stood up and approached the wagon, the sword ready in his hand; he walked slowly and when he was just a couple of steps from the wagon jumped scared, hearing groans and moans. He opened the curtain and found a man in chains, lying over a pool of his own blood on the floor; a couple of javelins pierced his chest making almost impossible for him to breath. One faithful dog was all the company he had while his life escape through his wounds. Polystratus sheathed his sword.

 

- Who are you? –it was a stupid question but it was the first thing it came to his mind.

 

- W…wa…ter…—the sound wasn’t human, more like a groan but the Macedonian understood the Greek word.

 

Even if Polystratus didn’t know the man he wasn’t going to deny him his last wish, because it was clear that he was wounded beyond salvation; he ran back to the small creek and brought water inside his helmet. The man drank a little and took Polystratus’ hand with surprising force.

 

- Grati…tud…Ahura…Maz…da…I’m will…not die…alone and…abandoned –his voice was a labored whisper but his words were clear enough for the young soldier. The Macedonian tried to give him more water but, then, he heard how the man stopped panting and the wagon remained unnaturally silent.

 

The dog howled sadly, the only one who mourned the dead man, and Polystratus was left without knowing what to do. He scratched his head, looking around for one of his companions, but when he saw none, he decided to inform the King. He still didn’t know who had been this man but knowing Alexander he would want to hear everything.

 

XXX

 

- It’s him –said Alexander, standing at the side of the wagon, holding the curtain with one hand and staring at the broken corpse of the man who once had ruled over a million souls.

 

It was hard to explain what the King felt in that moment. It had been a fitting end for someone who had caused him, and the people he loved the most, so much suffering. A part of him was glad that he hadn’t been the one who ended with the Great King’s life that he had suffered the betrayal of his own men and found such a sad end after a glorious life. But another part was concerned and distressed. Now everything would be more difficult for him, he had hoped to end this with Darius and now he had to deal with Bessus and Nabarzanes.

 

After long moments of silence he took off his cloak and covered Darius with it. Even if he hated him he needed to keep his feelings at bay, there were still several noble families that he could win to his cause if he treated the last Great King with respect. One thing was to hate Darius the man, another to honor Darius the King.

 

- What are you going to do now? –asked Hephaistion. Unlike Alexander he didn’t bother in hiding his feelings, after all he had been the one who suffered the most at Darius’ hands, and, in those moments he was more concerned for the dog’s fate.

 

I wasn’t happy that the man was dead but I wasn’t sad or concerned for that matter, I think I felt nothing, I couldn’t care about Darius and at the end I think it’s the worst thing you can do to a man: to be indifferent.

 

- I’m sending him back to Persepolis –answered Alexander—He will have a proper burial, it can be useful –he started to walk with his beloved, leaving the corpse behind— We’ll let the whole empire know that Bessus killed him and that we are going to haunt him down as the rebel and murderer he is.  

 

Hephaistion nodded. It would make them look good, after all, they had nothing to do with Darius’ death and they could look like the late Great King’s avengers.

 

Darius’ body was sent back to Persepolis, to be mourned by his family while Alexander regrouped his troops, now with Achilles, Koinos and the rest of light infantry, to rest in a city called Hecatompylos. Many years later this place would become one of the capitals of the Kingdom of the Parthians, the heirs of the Persians Empire, if you want to see things like this, and the only powerful enemy the Romans faced through all their history.

 

Hecatompylos was a big city, its name means “of the hundred gates”, surrounded by dusty and dry mountains, with a strategic position because it was close enough to the region of Hyrcarnia, the place where Nabarzanes had ran away. Alexander’s plan was to give everybody a well-deserved rest before continuing the march. Darius might be dead but his murderers were still on the run and there was still much to do. 

 

I would like to tell you that we had nice and peaceful days, but even if there were several banquets where our drinking habits caused scandal among the locals, in Hecatompylos was the first time the troops expressed their desire to go back home.

 

- Why are the men loading the wagons? –asked Alexander in a terrible mood that morning to his officers, reunited in the house where he was staying.

 

- They want to go back home –Nikanor explained, coughing. He didn’t look good but he insisted it was just a common cold and nothing to worry about—The men heard about Darius’ death and now that the Greeks had been discharged they think is the end of the campaign.

 

The King stood up and paced around. 

 

- How can they be so foolish? Bessus is still out there –he pointed at the door—We can’t just leave.

 

- Alexander –said Leonnatos with caution—We know that but they don’t, they miss their homes and now that the Great King is no longer a threat they can’t see why do they have to stay.

 

- Besides, you gave each cavalry and infantry unit a bonus –said Kleitos, his arms crossed over his chest—They thought it was their discharge.

 

- I can’t believe that I’m being recalled from the mid course of my glory (1) –the King complained, his eyes shining with tears that were never shed—Bringing a halt to a brilliant career, they want me to return home like a defeated man instead of a conqueror –he stopped to look at each one of his officers— My men are not cowards, and what they are doing is even worst because they are not afraid, it’s the ill-will of the Gods that this men suddenly want to go home when they were about to gain everlasting glory (2)

 

- Alexander, you know you can count with our units, or at least you can count with the loyalty of mine –said Hephaistion, and more than one looked at him with hate and envy thinking that he was nothing more than a sycophant—But you should talk to the men first, they won’t hear any of us –his beloved advised—If you explain the situation to them it would be different; just keep calm and don’t lose your temper or you can risk having a mutiny here.

 

- Hephaistion is right –said Kleitos, leaning to the front—The lads aren’t in the mood to be scolded or forced to stay. 

 

The King fell silent for a moment. They were right and the men had always responded well after he addressed them. 

 

- I’ll talk to them.

 

And he did. It took the King just one morning to make his men see that they couldn’t go home unless they risked leaving Bessus to become Great King and had to fight him later not in Asia but in Greece. Bessus was their enemy and a threat, and they had to crush him.

 

- “Men, if I believed that our grip on the lands we have so swiftly conquered were sufficiently, I would certainly break loose from here, even if you tried to detain me, back to my home to my mother, and my sisters, and the rest of our countrymen, so that there I could enjoy the reputation and glory I have won with you […]But our empire is new and, if we are prepared to admit the truth, insecure” –said the King that morning, standing over a platform to be seen by all. 

 

Hephaistion had to suppress a smile when he heard that, he knew his King well enough to know that, even if he had the Persian Empire secure, he would never stop.

 

- “Do you really think that the battle that conquered them subdued them as well?” –Alexander continued— “No! It is your military strength that checks them, not their own disposition; fearing us while we are here, they will be our enemies when we are gone. What we are dealing with is a pack of wild animals; they are naturally intractable, and even captured and confined they will only be tamed by the passage of time”.

 

Hephaistion turned for a moment and found Achilles watching the King with all his attention, drinking in every word.

 

- “We really have made a mistake, men, if we conquered Darius only to transfer his power to his vassal, to a man who committed the most heinous crime by keeping his own King in irons like a captive at a time when he stood in need of external assistance, a King whom we, his conquerors, would certainly have spared, and finally killing him so that he could not be rescue by us” –Alexander made a pause, surveying the faces of his men. He had their complete attention, that was good—“Are you going to permit a man like that to take the throne? Personally, I cannot wait to see him nailed to a cross” –several men expressed they agreement—[…] “A four days’ march remains for us, for men who have trodden so many snows, forded so many rivers, crossed so many mountain ranges […] We stand on the threshold of victory! There remains for us a mere handful of runaways and murderers of their own master […and] I can tell you, that you will transmit to posterity to augment your fame, one that will be counted among your most glorious achievements that you avenged even your enemy Darius”. (3)  

 

And among cheers and shouts the whole problem was solved. Hephaistion just smiled and shook his head, Alexander had lied to them more than once in one speech: First the General had his doubts that the King would have spared Darius’ life after he had become the legitimate Great King. Second, Bactria was not a 4 days march, it was a longer and more difficult march; and third, Alexander wasn’t planning to stop his conquests anytime soon. But he had to admit that his King had dealt with the problem in a master way.

 

- What do you think? –asked Hephaistion to his son, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

 

- I think dad is a genius manipulating people –that was all the young Prince said with an amusing smile curving his lips, and the General couldn’t decide if he should be worried or proud after hearing his son’s conclusions.

 

XXX

 

- I can’t believe this –said Hephaistion that night, shaking his head—You are aware that you lied to the men, don’t you? You told them that Bessus’ capital was 4 days march from here, we both know is much farther.

 

- Phai, if I had told them the true they would have mutinied –explained Alexander, lying among the cushions on his bed. 

 

- I know, but I don’t like it –the General approached the bed— They will find out sooner or later that you lie, what are you going to do then?

 

- I’ll think of something when that happen –the King smiled, the same amused smile his son had given him, and his beloved couldn’t avoid smiling back. Yes, after all, Achilles did have so many things in common with his uncle.

 

Hephaistion climbed the bed and sat astride over Alexander’s lap.

 

- What’s your plan now? –he brushed his hair back and the King took him by the thighs, feeling his knees pressed at his sides.

 

- Well –Alexander sighed—We are going to Zadracarta.

 

- I hope it won’t be a horrible march again –the General smiled, a lazy and arrogant smile that made his King’s blood burn.

 

- No, not this time –Hephaistion bent over and kissed his chest over the fabric of his cloths—By the way, did you do what I ask? 

 

- Yes, I verified the linage of every Persian prisoner –his beloved answered among kisses and Alexander nodded.

 

Three days ago in the middle of a banquet the King had found out that they had the granddaughter of the late Great King Ochus among the captives as if she were a common whore. Alexander had felt sorry for her and asked Hephaistion to verify the identity of all the Persian captives, he didn’t want to insult someone.

 

The King closed his eyes and moaned softly when his beloved brushed his nipple over the fabric.

 

- Mm, by the way I found a very curious captive but I didn’t have an opportunity to tell you before –whispered Hephaistion, almost purring.

 

- Who? –he had to ask before the heat took away all his coherent thoughts.

 

- Oxyathres, Darius’ brother, he was found by one of our scouts after he ran away from Bessus’ camp –the General explained, lifting his head to face him.

 

- He can be useful –said Alexander, now fully awaken.

 

- I thought you’d want to talk to him, so I ordered that he should be brought here tomorrow morning –said Hephaistion.

 

- Why not now?

 

- Why do you think? –and one look at his beloved’s eyes burning in passion gave him his answer.

 

- Oh…

 

XXX

 

(1) Peter Green. Alexander of Macedon, p 330

(2) and (3) Quintus Curtius book 6 #3.1 to18