Child of a Dream

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘We don’t need them!’ exclaimed Hephaestion.

  ‘But we do,’ replied Alexander. ‘They are excellent soldiers and we all know that. What’s more, this war is our response to the Persian invasions of Greek territory, to the continued threat posed by Asia over Hellas.’

  Eumenes stood up. ‘May I speak too?’

  ‘Let Mister Secretary General speak!’ Craterus laughed.

  ‘Yes. Let him speak,’ said Alexander. ‘I want to know what he thinks.’

  ‘It won’t take long for me to tell you what I think, Alexander. The fact is that if I work solidly from here to the beginning of the expedition I will manage to scrape together enough resources to sustain the army for one month, no more than that.’

  ‘Eumenes is always thinking about money!’ shouted Perdiccas.

  ‘It’s just as well someone does,’ replied Alexander. ‘That’s what I pay him for. Indeed, the point he makes is no laughing matter, but it is something I have already given some thought to. The Greek cities of Asia will help us, given that we are embarking on this to help them as well. After that we’ll see.’

  ‘We’ll see?’ asked Eumenes as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

  ‘Didn’t you hear what he said?’ Hephaestion chipped in. ‘Alexander said, “we’ll see”. Isn’t that clear enough?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ mumbled Eumenes. ‘If I have to organize provisions for forty thousand men, including our Greek allies, and five thousand horses then I’d like to know where the money’s going to come from, by Hercules!’

  Alexander clapped him on the back. ‘We’ll find it somehow, Eumenes, don’t you worry. I assure you we’ll find it. You just busy yourself getting everything ready for the off. It won’t be long now.

  ‘Friends, a thousand years have passed since my ancestor Achilles first set foot in Asia to fight the city of Troy together with other Greeks, and now not only will we accomplish a feat of the same magnitude, but we are sure to surpass it. There may well be no Homer to pen our story, but our valour will be none the less for all that.

  ‘I am certain that you can equal the deeds of the heroes of the Iliad. We have dreamed of them many times together, have we not? Have you forgotten how in our dormitory we would get up after Leonidas had done his rounds and we would all tell stories about the adventures of Achilles, Diomedes and Ulysses? We would stay up late into the night, until we fell asleep exhausted.’

  Silence fell in the temple, because they were all filled now with memories of their youth, gone now but still near them. And together with the memories was a slight trepidation for an impending, unknown future, and the awareness that Death and War always ride together.

  They looked at Alexander, at the changing colour of his eyes in the weak glimmer of the lamps, and they read there a mysterious perturbation, a burning desire for endless adventure, and it came to them there and then that they really would soon be setting off on an adventure, but they knew not when and indeed whether they would ever return.

  The King moved closer to Philotas. ‘I will speak to your father. I would rather you didn’t tell him about this evening.’

  Philotas nodded. ‘You’re right, you must speak to him. And I am glad you asked me to take part.’

  The atmosphere had suddenly become leaden and Ptolemy broke it with a simple, ‘I’m hungry now. What would you all say to the idea of eating a skewered partridge down at Eupithos’ tavern?’

  ‘Yes! Good idea!’ they all agreed.

  ‘Eumenes is paying!’ shouted Hephaestion.

  ‘Yes! Yes! Eumenes is paying!’ they all repeated, including the King.

  Shortly afterwards the temple was again deserted and all that could be heard was the galloping of their horses fading into the night.

  *

  At that same moment, far away in the palace at Buthrotum on a cliff above the sea, Cleopatra was about to open the doors of her bed chamber and her arms to her husband. The period of mourning required for a young wife had come to its end.

  The King of the Molossians had been welcomed by a group of maids dressed in white and bearing torches, symbols of burning love, and they led him along the stairs up to a half-open door. One of them took his white cloak from his shoulders and gently pushed the door. Then they all disappeared down the corridor together, as light as nocturnal butterflies.

  Alexander saw a golden, trembling light come to rest on a head of hair as soft as sea foam – Cleopatra. He remembered the shy little girl he had caught glimpses of so many times as she secretly observed him in the palace at Pella, only to run away on her slender little legs if he turned to look at her. Two maids were attending to her – one was combing her hair, while the other was undoing the belt of her nuptial gown and was opening the gold and amber buckles that held it on her ivory-smooth shoulders. And then the young Queen turned towards the door, wearing only the lamplight.

  Her husband entered and moved closer to study the beauty of her statuesque body, to drink deep of the brightness that emanated from her divine countenance. She held his ardent eyes without lowering her long, moist lashes – just at that moment her gaze burned with the wild force of Olympias and the visionary ardour of Alexander and the King was completely lost in her eyes before he took her in his arms.

  He gently caressed her face and her full breasts with his hand. ‘My bride, my goddess . . . how many sleepless nights have I spent in this house dreaming of your honey mouth and your body. So many nights . . .’

  His hand moved down to her smooth belly, over her downy sex, while with his other arm he held her tightly to his body and then guided her forcefully to the bed.

  He opened her lips with a fiery kiss and she responded with equal passion, with an ever more intense and ardent strength, and when he took her, he realized that she was not a virgin, that another had had her before him, but he didn’t pull back. He continued to give her all the pleasure it was in his power to give and luxuriated in their union, in her perfumed skin, sinking his face into the soft cloud of her hair, seeking her neck with his lips, kissing her shoulders and her fine breasts.

  He felt as though he were lying with a goddess, and no mortal can ever ask anything of a goddess, he can only ever be grateful for what he receives from her.

  He lay exhausted at her side when he had finished, while the flames of the lamps died one after another, leaving the opalescent half-light of the moon to penetrate the room.

  Cleopatra fell asleep on her husband’s ample chest, exhausted by the length of their pleasures and by the sleepiness that suddenly weighed on her maidenly eyes.

  For days and nights the Molossian King only had thoughts for her, he dedicated all his time to her and paid her every possible attention, every consideration, even though deep in his heart he felt the stabs of pain that were his jealousy. But then something unexpected arose to revive his interest in the outside world once more.

  He was with Cleopatra up on the walkways of the palace enjoying the evening breeze, when suddenly he saw a small fleet sailing from the open sea towards his port. There was one large vessel with a magnificent figurehead in the shape of a dolphin escorted by four warships carrying archers and foot soldiers all armoured with bronze.

  Shortly afterwards a guard came to him. ‘Sire, the foreign guests come from Italy, from an important city by the name of Tarant, and they have asked for an audience with you tomorrow.’

  The King looked at the red sun which was slowly disappearing below the horizon and replied, ‘Tell them I will gladly meet with them.’

  He then poured a cup of light, sparkling wine for Cleopatra, the same wine her brother enjoyed, and he asked her, ‘Do you know this city?’

  ‘Only by name,’ replied the girl as she put the cup to her lips.

  ‘It is a very rich and powerful city, but it has always been weak in war. Would you like to hear its story?’

  The sun by now had descended beneath the sea and all that was left on the waves was a purple reflection.

  ‘
Certainly, if you’re the one who tells it to me.’

  ‘Good. What you must know to start with is that a long time ago the Spartans besieged the city of Ithome in Messenia. The siege lasted years and they simply couldn’t break the deadlock. The Spartan leaders were worried because back in their own city very few babies were being born as a result of the prolonged absence of the thousands and thousands of soldiers being used at Ithome. It was felt that the day would come when there simply wouldn’t be enough young men for their army and the city would find itself unprotected.

  ‘So they came up with a solution – they went to Ithome, chose a group of soldiers, the youngest and strongest, and gave them orders to return home to carry out a much more pleasurable mission than a long drawn out siege. More pleasurable, but no less demanding.’

  Cleopatra smiled knowingly. ‘I think I can guess what it was.’

  ‘Exactly,’ continued the King. ‘Their mission was to make all the city’s virgins pregnant. They accomplished it with the same sense of duty and with the same ardour they displayed in combat. They were so successful that the following year a veritable litter of babies was born in Sparta.

  ‘But the war finished shortly afterwards and on returning to their homes all the other soldiers sought to make up for lost time, resulting in yet more babies. As all these children grew up, however, the legitimate ones claimed that all those born of the virgins should not be considered true citizens of Sparta, but ought instead to be treated as bastards.

  ‘Indignant, the children of the virgins started planning an uprising, led by a strong and daring young man by the name of Taras. Unfortunately for them, their plans were discovered and they were ordered to leave their homeland. Taras questioned the oracle at Delphi who directed him towards a place in Italy where they would be able to found a city and live off the fat of the land. The exiles did indeed found the city and it still stands there today – Tarant, which takes its name from Taras.’

  ‘It’s a lovely story,’ said Cleopatra with just a shade of sadness in her eyes, ‘but I wonder what they want.’

  ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I have met with them,’ said the King as he stood up and took his leave with a kiss. ‘And now I must go and give instructions so that our guests are put up in a fashion worthy of their status.’

  The small Tarantine fleet left two days later, and only when the sails had disappeared over the horizon did Alexander of Epirus return to his bride’s bed chamber.

  Cleopatra had prepared supper in her room – specially perfumed with lilies – and she had stretched out on the dining bed wearing a gown of transparent linen.

  ‘What did they want?’ she asked as soon as her husband was stretched out next to her.

  ‘They came to ask for my help and . . . to offer me Italy.’

  Cleopatra said nothing, but her expression darkened.

  ‘Will you be going away?’ she asked after a long silence.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the King. And inside he felt that this expedition and the war and perhaps even the risk of death in battle would afflict him less than the thought, which was growing day by day, that Cleopatra had once belonged to another man and that perhaps she still remembered him, or perhaps she loved him.

  ‘Is it true that my brother is also about to set off on an expedition?’

  ‘Yes. Towards the East. The invasion of Asia.’

  ‘And you are to go towards the West and I will be left alone.’

  The King took her hand and caressed it for a while in silence. Then he said, ‘Listen. One day, when Alexander was a guest here in the palace, he had a dream which I want to tell you about now . . .’

  *

  Parmenion looked Alexander in the eyes with disbelief written all over his face. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  Alexander put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I have never been so serious in all my life. This was the dream of Philip, my father, and it has always been my dream. We will set off with the first winds of spring.’

  ‘But, Sire,’ Antipater said, ‘you cannot begin an expedition in this manner.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because in war anything can happen and you have neither a bride nor an heir. You must first take a wife and leave an heir to the throne of Macedon.’

  Alexander smiled and shook his head. ‘I hadn’t given it the slightest consideration. Taking a wife is a very long process. We would have to evaluate all the possible candidates for the role of Queen, spend time deciding on the chosen one and then deal with the difficult reactions of all those families who would be excluded from the much sought-after family tie with the throne.

  ‘There would be the wedding to be prepared – the guest list, the ceremony and all the rest, and then I’d have to make the girl pregnant, which wouldn’t necessarily happen straight away. And then, even if it were to happen, it wouldn’t by any means be certain that it would be a boy and so perhaps I’d have to wait another year. And when my son was finally born I would have to do what Ulysses did with Telemachus – leave him as an infant and see him once again after who knows how long. No, I must set off immediately. My mind is made up.

  ‘I have called you here not to discuss my wedding, but my expedition to Asia. You two are the pillars of my kingdom, just as you were for my father, and I intend to confer on you duties which carry the very highest responsibility, and I hope you will accept them.’

  ‘You know, Sire, that we are loyal to you,’ said Parmenion, who never managed to call the young King by his first name, ‘and we have every intention of serving you for as long as our strength allows us to do so.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alexander, ‘and I know that this fact makes me a fortunate man. You, Parmenion, will come with me and you will have general command of the entire army, a command second only to that of the King. Antipater will remain in Macedon with all the prerogatives and powers of regent. Only in this way can I leave Pella with peace of mind, safe in the certainty that I am leaving my throne in the hands of the best man possible.’

  ‘You honour me too much, Sire,’ replied Antipater, ‘especially because the Queen, your mother, will remain at Pella and . . .’

  ‘I know perfectly well what you are alluding to, Antipater. But please do not forget the words I am about to pronounce – my mother must not be involved in any way with the government of the kingdom. She is to have no official contact with the foreign delegations and her role will be exclusively representative.

  ‘Only on your request will she have any part to play in diplomatic relations, and even then under your strictest supervision. I want no interference from the Queen in any affairs of a political nature. You will deal with all such things personally.

  ‘I want her to be respected and honoured and her every wish should be satisfied whenever possible, but everything must go through your hands – you, and not the Queen, will hold the royal seal.’

  Antipater nodded. ‘As you will, Sire. I only hope that this does not create conflicts – your mother is a very strong character and . . .’

  ‘I will make a public announcement of the fact that you are the one who holds power in my absence and therefore you will be accountable to me and me alone for your decisions. In any case, we will be in constant contact. I will keep you informed of all of my actions and you will do the same, informing me of what happens in the cities of our Greek allies, and what happens among our friends and our enemies alike. And for this reason we will be careful to maintain safe lines of communication open at all times.

  ‘There will be time to set out all the details of your duties, Antipater, but the fact remains that you are a man I trust and therefore you will have complete freedom in making your decisions. The purpose of this meeting was simply to discover whether the two of you agree to my proposal, and I am very glad you do.’

  Alexander got up from his seat and the two old generals did the same as a sign of respect. But before the King left the room, Antipater spoke: ‘Just one thing, Sire. How long do you think the expedition wi
ll last and how far do you intend going?’

  ‘I have no answer to that question, Antipater, because I myself do not know the answer.’

  And with a nod he left. The two generals stood alone in the deserted royal armoury and Antipater said, ‘You know, don’t you, that you will have enough provisions and money for just one month?’

  Parmenion nodded. ‘I know. But what could I say? His father, in his day, was even worse.’

  *

  Alexander returned to his apartments so late that night that all the servants were asleep, apart from the guards watching over his door and Leptine, who was waiting with a lighted lamp to give him his bath, the water already warm and perfumed.

  She undressed him and waited for him to climb into the big stone tub, then she poured water on his shoulders from a silver jug. This was something the physician Philip had taught her – the action of the water was an even more delicate massage than her own hands, it soothed him and relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and neck, the points where all the tiredness and tension concentrated.

  Alexander let himself go gradually until he was completely stretched out, and Leptine continued pouring water on his belly and his thighs until he made a sign for her to stop.

  She placed the jug on the edge of the bath and, even though the King had not yet said a word to her, she dared to speak first:

  ‘They say you are about to set off on an expedition, Sire.’

  Alexander did not reply and Leptine took a deep breath before continuing, ‘They say you’re going to Asia and I . . .’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I would like to go with you. I beg you – only I know how to look after you, only I know how to welcome you back home in the evening and get you ready for the night.’