CHAPTER 187

 

Aornus

 

Night had fallen upon the mountain, a beautiful, clear and warm night where the stars shone with force like jewels on a King’s dark cloak. From that high, the sky deceived them all appearing to be close enough to touch the moon, round and bright, giving enough light for the Macedonian troops to move quietly through the forest keeping the best way they could their battle formation to meet the fleeing enemy. Their metallic steps resounded unnatural over dry leaves and broken branches, and the clic, clic of hundreds of arms hitting their armors was like a strange melody where no other sound could be heard.

 

Alexander had ordered his 700 men to march in utterly silence and so they did, moving like ghosts looking for the blood of the living. Achilles had waited until the last Macedonian soldier left the camp and then he had run to Pegasus, ready to follow them in his new armor and Bastet at his side. His initial plan was to go alone but it was impossible to fool Chrysaor who stood before him in the stables, his arms crossed over his chest and a look on his eyes that left the Prince with only 2 choices: let the guard come with or stay in the camp.

 

He chose the first.

 

— Achilles, this is the craziest shit that had ever occurred to you –whispered Chrysaor, following the Prince on his horse through the thick forest.

 

The guard hated to mount; he had been a pezetairos all his life and regarded horses with suspicion, all horses, no mattered how fine the mount was. Still, he was not entirely uncomfortable with this situation, it had been a while since the guard used his full armor and the truth was that he was excited with the prospect of killing some Indians, the part he did not like was where Achilles would be risking his life.

 

— Do you have an idea of what is you father going to do to me if something happens to you? The King would let his dogs tear me apart and Heph would cut me into little pieces with his 2 swords –Chrysaor complained.  

 

— That is ridiculous –answered the Prince, his eyes on the darkness in front of them, under the ghostly light of the moon the trees looked like silent soldiers holding pikes and ready to kill any intruder who dared to break the peace of the forest. Pegasus advanced in a steady pace since they did not know the ground and did not want to break their necks or their horses’ legs. Bastet was at his side, advancing with the so celebrated stealth of big cats and her eyes glowing menacing in the night— You can’t be torn in pieces and then cut by my father’s swords. That’s impossible.

 

— Gee, thanks, I was starting to worry –answered Chrysaor with sarcasm. He shook his head— Do you realize the King would be furious when he finds out what we are doing?

 

— He would only be furious if I fail and, if I fail, I would be death and then I would have nothing to worry about, don’t you think? –the Prince tried to sound sure of himself, as if life and death were the same to him but he did not fool his guard.

 

Chrysaor snorted.

 

— This is wrong, I can tell you, I have the same feeling I had in my guts when Zopyrion was defeated –he whispered, alert to any change in their surroundings. He was having seconds thoughts now, cursing himself for not stopping the Prince when he had the chance. Why had he agreed to accompany him instead of stopping the boy?

 

I should have tied Achilles to his bed, sit over him and wait for the King to come back, that was what I should have bloody done –he thought, clenching his jaw when something caught his attention.

 

The guard stopped and remained still as a hunting hound. Something here was not right, something he could not put a name on had changed in the surroundings. 

 

— Stop! –he exclaimed, barely raising his voice and the Prince obeyed, turning to look at him. 

 

— What is it? –asked Achilles, feeling his pulse quickening. Was the enemy? The Macedonian forces? Wild animals?

 

— Listen –the Prince did as he was told, listening with all his might and to him floated the sounds of steps, thousands of steps, not far from them.

 

— It’s my father –whispered the boy, his heart beating faster against his throat, but something told the guard this was not the case. He had a hunch and a cold feeling in his guts telling him they were in danger.

 

— No. It doesn’t sound like the King… it’s the Indians –said Chrysaor, tense like a bowstring— We took the wrong way. 

 

Achilles paled. How could that happen? If the guard was right that meant they had walked directly to the enemy and if the Indians saw them before Alexander arrived, it would be the end of both. The Prince felt a cold sweat running down his spine and held the reins of Pegasus with force. What now? But before he could say or do something the quiet of the night was broken by 700 throats screaming at the same time the Macedonian war cry. It was a sound the Prince had never heard before at such close distance, and realized with horror that he and Chrysaor when standing exactly between Alexander and the enemy.

 

The guard reacted quickly, he was not a great warrior as Hephaistion, but he was a good soldier and a survivor. He had survived the disaster of Zopyrion’ campaign and he would survived this. Chrysaor took the reins of Achilles’ horse and pulled him, taking them out of the way just when a human tide flowed out of the trees to pounce on the enemy. Several torches appeared to illuminate the place but this did little to improve the Prince’s notion of what was going on around him.

 

Achilles had never been in a battlefield, the closest thing was after the battle of Gaugamela when the enemy attacked the Macedonian camp, but that was not even slightly similar to this, starting with the fact that it was night and the clash between the Macedonians and the Indians was like an orgy of blood and destruction when you could not say who was friend and who was foe. This was not like fighting against a Scythian warrior; here he had to be aware of everything and everyone. The Prince was standing in the middle of confusion, and for moments he did not even know where the sky was, lost in the whirlwind of shouts, screams and blood.

 

Chrysaor did his best to protect him, his horse standing between the Prince and the enemy but he was clumsy as a cavalryman and, at some point, they got separated.

 

Kleitos had trained the Prince for years to kill, he had fought against Scythians, he was not afraid of sharing the blood of his enemies, he did not fear pain, but this…This was something completely different. Achilles took his swords, trying with all his forces to be like his father, to be the great warrior Hephaistion was, but he could not do it. He was frozen on his spot and, before he could defend himself, someone knocked him from his horse.

 

Achilles fell on his back, dizzy, confused, tasting dirt and blood in his mouth, not sure of how he had arrived to the ground. He tried to stand up but a shout that froze his blood made him stop and raised his head; a bloodthirsty enemy appeared over him ready to cut him in half with his sword, a vision of nightmare, looking more like a monster coming out from a legend than a real man, and he could do nothing more than watch the man through big round eyes, completely immobile.

 

I am going to die –that was the only thing on his mind.

 

The Prince closed his eyes ready to receive a deathblow but the pain never came. He felt something warm covering him, blood, and, when he opened his eyes, he found Bastet over the man that had tried to claim his life, the Cheetah roaring in a terrifying way with the hair of her back standing. Achilles got back on his feet, feeling ashamed of himself, sick of being afraid, and took his 2 swords with force and determination.

 

I can do this –he thought, taking deep breaths— I can do this and dad and daddy will be proud of me.

 

The Prince shared blows with an Indian, using everything Kleitos had taught him, and before he noticed he had cut his enemy’s throat. At first Achilles did not know why the man had stopped moving until he saw that second mouth opening like a yawn and pouring blood all over his chest. He stood there, watching the man fall in slow motion, barely believing he had done this. Achilles was exhilarating, his heart beating like a war drum, the adrenaline at its limits and then someone took him by the arm. The Prince turned with his swords ready and the man blocked his blows with the skilful movements that only experience can give you.

 

— What the hell are you doing here? –it was Seleucus, already covered in blood and looking impressive in his full armor and the savage glint in his eyes that only the battlefield could take off from a man.

 

For a moment the Prince did not know what to think and it took him 2 deep breaths to understand the commander was standing in front of him.

 

— I am here…to fight –panted Achilles, blood covering one half of his face, trying to release himself from the commander’s firm grip but it was useless.

 

— Does the King know you are here? –somehow Seleucus knew the answer but he needed to hear it. The boy blushed.

 

— This is no time to chat –the Prince changed the subject, looking defiant and making the commander smile.

 

My brave young Prince –thought Seleucus.

 

— Damn right –he had to agree with the boy. He would learn later how was that Achilles ended here.

 

XXX

 

Alexander walked around the battlefield on his horse. His pages carried torches to help him see the devastation left behind while the men took prisoners, helped their wounded and killed the wounded Indians. Amyntas was close to him, he was by far the tallest of the boys and the flame of his torch burned near the young conqueror, the fickle flame gaving him a mysterious look in the darkness, as if he were a god descending with the mortals and their blood madness just for this night. It had been a quick, easy battle and now the King could boast that, the fortress that had defeated his ancestor Herakles, was now under his control. He smiled.

 

— How many casualties? –asked the King when Ptolemy arrived at his side. They could hear a cacophony of moans and whimpers from the wounded, a dreadful sound that had become familiar to them all. 

 

— On our side none so far –answered the commander, while the rest of his officers arrived— They weren’t so lucky –Ptolemy pointed at a dead Indian with his chin— Almost all of them are dead –Alexander nodded

 

—We’ll move tomorrow to the fortress –the King smiled and dismounted, patting his horse’s neck— It is a great victory for all of us and we’ll celebrate properly on the morrow.

 

They heard footsteps and Alexander noticed his officers’ attention was settled on someone behind him. He turned and found the last person he expected to see there: Achilles, standing in full armor, covered in blood, his cloak lost somewhere among the corpses covering the grass, panting and shaking with something in his hand. It was hard to explain if the King was more concern than angry or more anger than concern in those moments but, one thing was clear: he was not happy.

 

— Why are you here? –he asked in a tone of voice that froze the blood of his most veteran men. Many thanked all the gods that their King’s anger was not directed at them.

 

Achilles looked about to faint but, somehow, he found the strength to rise what he was holding in his left hand: a head.

 

— I…—his voice was failing him but the Prince did an effort to keep it still.

 

I cannot pass out here, not in front of them –he thought, standing proudly despite his trembling knees.

 

— I killed my first man…father –Achilles felt the vile raising in his throat, the feeling of his enemy’s hair between his fingers sickened him, but he kept his expression blank, giving nothing away. 

 

For a moment no one talked and no one moved. The Prince was sure his adopted father was going to scold him like a child in front of everyone and when Alexander closed the distance between them, Achilles embraced himself for the rebuke of his life, but, instead he was embraced with overwhelming force. He had defied the King, but he had also made Alexander very proud by killing his first man in the place that had beaten their ancestor and the King liked these kind of omens.

 

— You disobeyed me –whispered Alexander against his ear, not angry, on the contrary, beaming with pride. This fragile boy had proven him wrong and the young conqueror could not be happier.

 

— Yes but…someone told me it was only bad if you lose –the Prince answer made him laugh.

 

The King patted his back with force and moved away to see him. Achilles was so pale that he looked ill and judging by the smell he had vomited recently.

 

— Don’t faint –Alexander ordered him, barely raising his voice so no one could hear them— We are going back to camp, but I need you to resist until then. 

 

The Prince nodded, amazed at how well his adopted father had seen right through him.

 

— Yes, father.

 

— Go get your horse.

 

Achilles did as he was told and, on his way to retrieve Pegasus, he found Seleucus. Their eyes met for a moment. The Prince knew that if it had not been for the commander’s help he would have never achieved his goal, someone would have killed him from behind but it had been thanks to Seleucus and Chrysaor that he had survived. Yes, he had killed more than one foe that night, but the commander had kept him safe. He smiled at Seleucus with his last forces and went for Pegasus.

 

XXX

 

Roxanne heard the uproar when the King arrived victorious at the camp and she ran to welcome him with his most adorable smile. The Queen had not slept, waiting dressed in red silk, perfect make up and perfect combed hair. She was so sure to see Achilles’ dead or injured that, when the Queen saw the boy proudly riding at Alexander’s side with a head hanging from his saddle, she looked as if she had seen a ghost. The men cheered their King and their Prince and that made Roxanne felt a burning hate. The more popular the Prince the more difficult to replace him.

 

Leonnatos patted his nephew’s back with force and a big smile on his face.

 

— I can’t believe you did it! –he exclaimed happily— And at the same age of your father.

 

Achilles tried to smile but failed miserably. He was starting to see 2 Leonnatos in front of him, the ground moved beneath his feet and voices were distant sounds he could not understand. Many men approach to pat his back, to congratulate him, smiling faces full of joy and pride. One man took the head from the saddle making fun of the forever frozen grimace on the face of the dead man and people around him celebrate the joke. Macedonians were a warlike people and, as Kleitos had said once, they would only follow a strong King, not only a good leader, but a deathly warrior and that night Roxanne understood that, standing near the entrance of the royal tent like a lifeless statue, watching everybody celebrating.

 

Alexander promised a great banquet next day in honor of his son and in honor of all of them for conquering the fortress that had defeated Herakles himself and retired to his tent, with Achilles at his side, amidst the cheers of his men. The Queen smiled at him but the King barely acknowledged her, a brief nod before coming inside, his mind working busily in all the things that had happened in the last hours.

 

— Son, you will have to tell me how was that… —but Alexander stopped talking when he saw that exhaustion and the overwhelming myriad of emotions of the battle, finally took its toll on Achilles’ body and the Prince passed out. 

 

The King ran to catch him carrying his slender Prince easily on his arms, despite of the armor he was wearing.

 

— Amyntas! –he called his page— Bring doctor Philip but be careful of not drawing too much attention.

 

— Yes, sire –and Hephaistion’s nephew ran out the tent.

 

Alexander kissed his adopted son’s forehead not caring for the blood, dirt and sweat covering him, and closed his eyes for a moment.

 

— This is why I did not want you on the battlefield –he whispered tenderly against his gold-bronze hair.

 

— Is he fine? –the King turned and found Roxanne standing at his side, looking worried and ready to help in whatever she could. Her Greek was improving but it was still very basic and she used to drag the words giving them an exotic intonation.

 

— He is, just a bit tired –answered Alexander. 

 

— Help, you need help? –the Queen asked.

 

— Yes –the King took Achilles to his room and Roxanne helped to clean the boy.

 

This was not suppose to end like this –the Queen thought angry, looking for wounds on the Prince’s body, maybe she could find one that, with a little help, could be fatal but, that night the gods appeared to be against her, because Achilles did not have serious wounds, just scratches and bruises, and the worst she could find was a dislocated wrist.

 

Doctor Philip took care of the rest, immobilizing the Prince’s wrist and tending to his bruises while Alexander waited, standing at one side of the bed. Achilles winced but did not complain while the doctor worked, biting his cheek every time Philip moved his wrist and almost screaming when the doctor put the bone back in its place. 

 

I won’t cry and I won’t scream –thought the boy.

 

— How did you get that? –asked Alexander, watching his bandaged wrist once the doctor and the Queen were gone.

 

— In the stupidest way you can imagine –answered Achilles, not daring to look at him. He was sure this kind of things would have never happened to the King, or to his father.

 

— How was that? –Alexander sat down at his side. 

 

— While cutting the man’s head –said Achilles, his uneven eyes on his hands; he shuddered remembering that moment— It was…harder than I thought and I…I had to do it quickly because there were enemies everywhere. Seleucus protected me but I did not want him to, I wanted to do it alone and… I could not and…I tried to cut the head but the body moved in spasms and…the feeling of the flesh under the sword, it was… when I finally cut the head…I…I vomited and… —he began to cry and the King embraced him, feeling how his son rested his head on his shoulder, clinging to his cloths with force, as he used to do when he was little. 

 

— It is fine.

 

— It is not…hic…I am sure this did not happen to you…hic… or to daddy –cried the Prince.

 

— No Aki, I won’t lie to you –answered the King softly, caressing his back— It never happened to me. My hands have never trembled on the battlefield, not even when I was your age. I was all alone when I took the life of my first man and I did not have a man like Seleucus, or Chrysaor, to protect me. But, thank all the gods, you and I are different. 

 

Those words caught Achilles’ attention.

 

— Why do you…hic…say that?

 

— Because this world does not need 2 Alexanders –answered the King— You will live a different time than mine and, when the day comes for you to be King, you will be the right King to meet the needs of your own era.

 

The Prince cried again but this time he was smiling. After all, things had not gone that bad and he felt in peace at last. He did not have to be like Alexander, he had to be his own person, but he had not realized this until now, until he heard it from that mouth.

 

— Thank you… —whispered Achilles, feeling as if a heavy rock had been lifted from his back. 

 

XXX

 

The Indus River

 

Hephaistion saw with great satisfaction the bridge standing proudly over the Indus. It was not a piece of art but it had not been built to last through the ages as a never changing symbol of the power that now was Macedonian; no, the idea was less spectacular but much more useful. They were going to re use the wood making wagons once the army had crossed. It was something that had occurred to the commander while gathering wood in the forest and the engineers had agreed it was possible and also a great idea.

 

Hephaistion walked back to the camp; now that the bridge was ready the only thing left to do was wait for Alexander and the rest of the army to arrive. According to the last letter he had received from the King this may happen in a week. He smiled and shook his head remembering his lover’s words while describing how their son had finally taken the life of his first man, it was clear that Alexander was not only happy, he was floating like a balloon full with pride and that made him glad.

 

The commander was also very proud knowing his boy had accomplished this as such a tender age but what really made him happy was to read that Achilles was feeling more relax after the King had talked to him. This was what really matted to him, to know his son was well. He lifted his head and then his dark gray eyes found 2 tiny figures running along the edge of the river, laughing and playing. The sun made their red hair shone like fire and he recognized immediately his nieces: Antigone and Ayesha.

 

Hephaistion frowned thinking of how a terrible idea was to leave the girls play there, it was dangerous being so close to the river and the threat of drowning very real; he turned looking for Vashti but could not find her sister-in-law anywhere near, so he strode to catch his nieces. 

 

— Girls, what are you doing here? –he asked and both twins looked at him at the same time and giggled. It never ceased to amaze him how alike they were, he could not tell who was who.

 

— We are playing –answered Antigone, smiling shyly, her hands behind her back while rocking her body.

 

— Alone? Where is your mother?

 

It is not like Vashti to leave her daughters like this –thought the commander.

 

— She is with father, over there –said Ayesha, pointing at north and Hephaistion could see his brother arguing angrily with his wife.

 

What the hell? –he thought intrigued.

 

— Oh, I see –he looked again at his nieces, 2 pairs of equal green eyes looking at him— Well, I don’t think is a good idea to be playing here so…—what should he do? Nikandros looked angry enough to keep arguing all day— Are you hungry? I could use some company.  

 

Both girls smiled, jumped excited and took his hands, happy to be able to spend time with their uncle. Hephaistion smiled looking at them, their ponytails swinging at each step; it was very different to raise a girl and he was so used to Achilles that found fascinating the behavior of his brother’s daughters. They looked a lot like Vashti but their smiles were exactly the same of his mother and that made him nostalgic.  

 

— What were you playing? –asked the commander, crossing the camp, heading to his tent.

 

— We were deciding who will marry you –said Antigone and Hephaistion stopped, looking at his niece as if he did not know her.

 

— What?! –exclaimed the commander and both girls giggled, hiding behind him.

 

Why me? –asked Hephaistion, shaking his head.

 

— Uncle? –asked Ayesha.

 

— Yes?

 

— Is it true that you can have more than one wife? –Ayesha and Antigone watched him with big shining green eyes.

 

— Yes, it is true –both girls jumped. 

 

— See? I told you both could marry him –said Antigone, embarrassing his uncle even more.

 

XXX

 

— Kyros! –called Hephaistion once they arrived to his tent— Go to my brother and tell him his daughters are here, he is at the river with his wife.

 

The Theban nodded and ran to obey.

 

— Peris! I’m so glad to find you here –exclaimed Xsayarsa, running to him, waving his arms— I need cloths.

 

One of the commander’s servants took the twins with her, to give them something to eat, while Hephaistion left his swords over a table, taking his time before answering.

 

— I thought you just got new ones before crossing the Hindu Kush –answered the commander. The smell of freshly baked bread floated to him and his stomach roared reminding Hephaistion how hungry he really was.

 

He loved that smell; it always reminded him of his mother and how, when he was a child, that wonderful smell used to fill the house. During winters it was also accompanied by the aroma of hot milk with honey and during summer with the sweet one of fruit juice. And again Hephaistion felt nostalgic.

 

Maybe Nick is not so mad thinking in going back home –he thought, still feeling that sadness that had his heart gripped viciously between its claws.

 

— Yes, I did. But then, I realized that, since your importance in this Empire has increased, I need better cloths to match the high position of my patron –the eunuch explained— You see, I do this for your good.

 

— For my good? How is that? Enlighten me –asked Hephaistion amused.

 

— I insist, you barbarians have no brains except for finding ways to kill each other –Xsayarsa pursed his lips and rolled his eyes— It is obvious! The more beautiful and richly dress are your servants the more important you are.

 

— What makes you think I am such an “important man” now? –this time the eunuch laughed.

 

— Peris, you are as beautiful as you are stupid –said Xsayarsa without shame— Even the dumbest of the slaves at the stable know you are the second most important man here, only after the Great King. As I see this, you are more powerful than Ambhi, and he dresses better than us!!! That is outrageous! –the eunuch exclaimed as if this were a great catastrophe— And now that I think of it, I will get new cloths for you too.

 

Hephaistion sighed. He really did not consider himself so important and did not want to start dressing like a rajah but, by now, he knew better than to argue with Xsayarsa. Once the eunuch had decided something it was impossible to make him change his mind.

 

— Fine, get new cloths. I will give you the money.

 

Sometimes I feel as if I were already married –thought the commander and his eunuch smiled happily.

 

It did not pass long before Nikandros arrived at his brother’s tent. He did not look happy which caught Hephaistion’s attention immediately.

 

— What happened to you?

 

— Long story, where are my girls? –asked the lochagos.

 

— Eating something –Hephaistion approached him— Don’t you want to talk about what’s bothering you? Kyros can take the twins back to your tent.

 

Nikandros nodded.

 

XXX