Macedonians were great ones for sayings. Other sayings went along the lines of ‘A lost goat calls the wolf’, ‘Only sheared sheep can swim’, and ‘A river goes farther than a puddle’. I could understand why most of the sayings didn’t make it to posterity. However, he was right about the guilty dog. I wondered who Onesicrite would bite.
He looked sideways at me, then back at Alexander. ‘As you know, my king, I have been with your new queen. I have volunteered to act as her humble messenger. She greatly desires to see you this evening. As you must know, she has borne you a man-child. She would be very proud to show you your new son. What message may I bring back to her?’
His bite was much worse than his bark I decided, wincing.
Alexander gave me a reassuring smile then turned to Onesicrite and said, ‘I will come see my queen and her babe when I have had my bath. I would not go to her covered in the dust and sweat of my journey. Pray tell Roxanne to expect me in one hour.’
Onesicrite smirked at me, bowed at Alexander, and backed out of the tent.
Plexis, Alexander and I looked warily at each other. The lamp flickered as the breeze blew in. Shadows danced all around us.
‘I’ll go take my bath now,’ said Alexander rather quietly.
After he left Plexis asked me, ‘What did you want to talk about?’
‘Don’t leave him alone with her,’ I begged.
‘Hush, don’t say that.’ He took me in his arms. ‘Don’t think about it. Nothing will happen to him, I promise. You’re shaking!’
‘Will you go with him now?’ I asked. ‘He needs someone with him, and I’m so tired all of a sudden.’
Plexis looked at the tent flap and sighed. I saw that and smiled. ‘Go and find Alexander. And make it last longer,’ I whispered. Now he did blush. I laughed.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, his eyes bright.
‘Of course.’ I yawned and snuggled into my covers. ‘Close the curtains, will you? And tell Axiom to come in the tent. I feel safer with him here.’
‘There’s Lysimachus,’ he said.
I shook my head. ‘No. Please, I only trust Axiom and Brazza.’
‘All right.’ He leaned over and kissed me gently. Then he left, silently as a shadow.
Chapter Eleven
I slept until Alexander came back to the tent. He reeked of strong perfume and incense, but his tense back told me volumes about the meeting between him and Roxanne.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I whispered.
He turned over and faced me. ‘We’re going to have to,’ he said. His body was drawn tighter than a bowstring.
‘Now?’ I asked.
‘No.’ He felt me stiffen and said. ‘I told her she should never have come. She took it badly. Then she wanted to make love, but I couldn’t.’ He sighed. ‘Damn the bitch anyway. She tried it in front of Onesicrite. The Athenians are going to read about my impotence in his next newsletter.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said softly.
‘No you’re not.’ He kissed me and grinned wryly.
‘And neither am I. She knows you’re here, and that you have Chiron with you. She wants to see you.’
‘I don’t trust her,’ I said.
‘Neither do I,’ he admitted.
I pulled him to me. ‘Did you see your baby?’
‘Yes. He looks like her. Dark hair, small eyes, and pale.’ He was yawning as he said this, his body relaxing against mine.
I let him fall asleep, his head cradled on my arm, his hand on my breast. His breathing slowed and deepened and he slept without moving until before dawn. Towards morning he woke up, and he made love to me quietly, without speaking. We didn’t need to talk, our bodies knew better than ourselves what we needed. Afterwards we just lay together. The sky turned a pale hue of rose quartz and Axiom lit the fire.
My days always started with Axiom lighting the fire. Then Alexander would get up and leave, coming back briefly to eat. I would see him again at nightfall. I buried my face in the warm, empty space he left and breathed deeply. His body had its own warmth and scent that I loved. My spirits lifted.
Chiron woke soon afterwards, and Brazza prepared breakfast. Alexander came back to the tent and ate with us. He had a faraway look in his eyes, the look of a man who has nearly reached his goal. He caught me watching him and smiled fleetingly.
‘We’re in India,’ I told him.
‘I’ve yet to see a singing tree, a tiger, or a wild elephant,’ he said. ‘By the way, I saw Roxanne. She still wants to see you.’
‘Why me?’ I thought for a minute. ‘Very well. I’ll go. But I will take Usse with me.’
Alexander sent Lysimachus with that message. I dressed carefully. Usse and I looked at each other nervously. Neither of us knew what to expect.
Roxanne hadn’t changed. Birth hadn’t altered her narrow hips or flat belly. If anything she looked even thinner, but her face had changed. Some women become gaunt with children. Roxanne’s cheekbones were sharper, her eyes even more slanted.
She smiled and bowed, professing joy and gladness to see me again.
‘I’m very flattered,’ I said.
‘And where is your child? I would see him without delay.’ Her voice was high, but not sweet.
‘I will invite you to come and see him with your own babe, so that they may play together as true brothers. My wish is that they be as close as Castor and Pollux.’
My words startled her. The crowd in the tent murmured appreciatively – and there was quite a crowd. Roxanne surrounded herself with no less than twelve slaves, three eunuchs, ten maids-in-waiting, and at least fifteen cooks and various scribes, singers, oboe players, dancers, and whatever else she felt she simply couldn’t live without. Where was the baby? I looked around the tent and my eyes found the crib.
Roxanne’s baby suffered from what looked like eczema combined with malnutrition and poor nerves. The tiny five-month-old boy was covered with red spots, his arms flailed when he cried out, and no one dared pick him up to soothe him.
His mother tried to act concerned, but her fingers drummed on the side of the painted wooden crib and her eyes were calculating, not worried.
‘Do you nurse him still?’ I asked.
‘No, he has a wet-nurse,’ she said. ‘I never had any milk.’
‘How sad,’ I said quietly. ‘Who is his wet-nurse?’
Roxanne smiled. ‘It’s an ass. Her milk is good, but the child is still poorly. Perhaps your doctor has a suggestion?’
Indeed. Things were becoming clearer. ‘Find a slave with milk,’ I ordered. I whirled around and took Roxanne’s arm hard enough to make her wince. ‘You will not interfere. Now listen to me well. I will only say this once. If you want your son to rule someday, first he must live.’ I let go of her arm. She stepped back, rubbing it angrily. Her eyes were wary. Now I would see if she was dangerous when frightened, or simply when she felt on top of the situation. ‘What is his name?’ I asked.
‘I called him Iskander, after his father.’ Her voice dripped honey.
I nodded grimly. She would always back down from a head-on fight. It meant I could never turn my back on her. She was the type to attack from behind. I would be doubly careful now.
Usse and I whispered together, and then he spoke up. He bowed very low and said to Roxanne, looking down at her feet. ‘You must fetch a slave woman to give him milk. He is not thriving on ass’s milk. You must bathe him twice a day in water mixed with vinegar and whey milk. The water must be first boiled then cooled. You must wash his eyes with a special cloth, used only for his face.’
‘But he’s my baby!’ she said. Her voice was uncertain though. She dared not protest too strongly.
‘You will be happy when he has recovered completely,’ I said. Then I left.
Usse and I watched the little boy carefully for a week. With regular baths, a woman’s milk, and clean diapers, he soon lost his allergic rash and gained weight quickly.
He was a fey child, never crying, very qu
iet, and pale as the sand. He was so calm that I grew worried and asked Usse to make sure he was normal. It turned out that he was deaf. I was shocked.
I tried to remember if the child had lived. I knew Roxanne had had at least two children. One was called Alexander and had been declared heir after his father’s death, but he’d died in the war between Cassander and Olympias when he was ten or eleven years old.
Usse and I decided not to tell Alexander or Roxanne right away that the baby was deaf. It would be a sore blow for them. The boy was looking so much better and Roxanne seemed happy. However, we stayed no more than we had to in her tent. Neither of us ever accepted any food or drink. Although we tried not to give offense, we must have seemed extremely rude. Roxanne, egotistical maniac that she was, didn’t seem to notice.
Her tent became a meeting place for those who believed in the old gods: Baal, Marduk, Ishtar, Anahita, Mot, and Ea. Two were bloodthirsty, Baal and Marduk, and one was the sex-goddess Anahita, Roxanne’s cult.
She never carried her son the way I carried Chiron. Actually, I never saw her take him in her arms.
Alexander had been relieved when he saw Usse caring for Roxanne’s baby. Hearing that the only thing ailing him was uncleanness made him angry. He wanted to reprimand Roxanne, but we stopped him. The best thing would be to teach her how to take care of her own child, and failing that, train one of her nurses, which is what Usse ended up doing.
However, Roxanne seemed to sense that something wasn’t right with the babe and left his care to the nurse Usse had chosen. Which was probably just as well for the baby, I reflected. The poor child had been severely neglected. Now, at least he was clean and well fed, and his nurse seemed fond of him.
Roxanne’s cortège marched behind the main army. It looked like a circus, I thought wryly, watching it one day as I rode. Three elephants lugged the tents. Sixteen camels carried her supplies. A large wagon full of women shrieking like a pandemonium of parrots followed. And there were parrots – and monkeys. The women had their pets with them. Their slaves walked alongside carrying white flags. There were priests and handmaidens in carts, and litters carried by ponies and donkeys. Roxanne rode a white mare, and I was relieved to see it wasn’t the one I’d given her.
We moved slowly east. It was a week’s march, and soon the only thing anyone spoke about was King Taxiles’s kingdom. Would he meet us with a thousand elephants? Would his palace be more beautiful than the palaces of Greece and Persia? Did everyone wear silk? Did he have singing trees in his garden? Those were the questions everyone asked.
Chapter Twelve
We arrived early one evening. The sky was pale lavender. The mimosa trees wore yellow flowers, and the grass had grown waist-high in the fields. The dust raised by the army alerted Taxiles’s scouts, and they met us just outside the city’s walls.
The king and his entire army met us. They lined up with their weapons glinting gold in the setting sun.
There was a moment of confusion as Alexander and his generals wondered if we were being attacked. Before I knew what had happened, I was hustled to the back of the parade, while the cavalry rushed to the forefront and the infantry and phalanx grabbed spears. Soon Alexander’s army stood wary and ready in front of Taxiles’s army, and everyone stared at everyone else. There was a lot of white showing in people’s eyes. The situation started to get very tense, when suddenly a lone horseman rode out from the city, waving his arms and showing clearly that he was unarmed. It was King Taxiles himself.
Alexander grabbed a translator and rode out to meet him, a flush of excitement on his cheeks. Here was the man who’d given him twenty-five elephants! They dismounted and embraced. The translator could hardly keep up as Alexander thanked him, and Taxiles apologized for the welcome.
One hundred girls ran out and started throwing flower blossoms over the road, paving our entrance with marigolds and poppies.
I urged my horse forward and joined Alexander. He and I were invited into the city. The army was shown to a huge plain not far away. Alexander and I stayed in the palace.
Taxiles proved to be absolutely enamoured of all things Greek. He wanted his kingdom to be the first to trade with Greece, and he wanted to show Alexander plans for new buildings, schools, theatres, and a gymnasium.
First, though, he wanted to settle some rather delicate matters.
The principal matter was a hefty bill he presented Alexander for all the food he’d provided for the army. Alexander paid with gold he had in the treasury.
The second matter was a bevy of unmarried daughters.
Alexander smiled bravely and said he’d find husbands for each of the girls.
‘And for you, Mighty King of the West, I give you my youngest flower!’ The translator spoke in a rapturous voice, exactly imitating King Taxiles’s crowing manner. The king clapped his hands, and a girl came out and bowed. I choked back an exclamation. The girl was very beautiful, but only about thirteen years old. Her eyes were huge in her golden face, and her hair was so black it was nearly blue. She was naked except for flowers twined around her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles. More flowers were braided into her hair. Her lips had been painted bright red, and her eyes lined with kohl.
At a sharp word from the king, the girl knelt down, then, like a contortionist, leaned backwards to touch her head to her toes and spread her thighs wide, showing her pink sex. A slave rushed over and spread her labia open, and the translator said proudly, ‘A pure virgin.’
Alexander’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. So did all the other men’s. The king leaned back and smiled, content with the effect. I was livid with rage. I stood up and, hiding my shaking hands behind my back, spoke in a loud voice. The translator looked at me in awe as he told King Taxiles what I was saying.
‘Iskander must not be greedy. His next wife will be cursed and will kill her own parents. This girl is too young to marry. She must wait until she has reached her eighteenth year. Then she shall marry whomever she chooses. The goddess has spoken. Listen and obey.’
I had started off with a serious case of nerves and pronounced Iskander, ‘Seekander’. The Indians would pronounce his name like that forever after.
King Taxiles became agitated when the translator finished. He cleared his throat and said rather hastily that the girl could wait, and that he would be content with generals or princes for his other daughters.
Alexander found many men willing to marry and stay in Taxila with the king. The city would become the biggest centre of Hellenic culture in India. Greek would be spoken there for centuries. It would become one of the greatest exchanges between east and west. Taxiles didn’t know this, of course, but he seemed thrilled to meet Alexander. He wouldn’t stop rubbing his hands together and beaming.
He was also very impressed with the army. He saw Alexander as the chance he’d been waiting for. To the south was his greatest enemy, the rajah Porus, whom he had been fighting against on and off for decades. Alexander had sent ambassadors to Porus asking for right of passage through his lands. The second night we stayed in Taxila, news came that the demands had been rejected, and Porus was massing his army on the banks of the river Jhelum.
Alexander grew very still when the news came. I think he was bitterly disappointed. He had been looking forward to coming to India and being received everywhere. The idea of fighting his way through India displeased him enormously. Nonetheless his military mind was already busy making plans. We left five days after we arrived.
I used those five days to go shopping. I’d been in the mountains, away from civilization for so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to go to the market, to buy food and clothes, to go to the theatre, or eat at a restaurant.
I insisted Alexander accompany me and do all those things, except the restaurant. There weren’t really any restaurants in those times, just food stands in the market place. We strolled through the city. The people acclaimed us, and everyone tossed flowers at us; flowers and coloured rice. I loved it. I felt like a bride the e
ntire time.
Alexander covered me in beautiful, bright silks and cottons, and we ate curried lamb and peacocks. Alexander loved Indian food and Taxiles adored Greek art. Alexander’s men put on sports exhibitions in the plains, and the people of the city swarmed out to see them every evening.
Lanterns made of coloured silk, and ribbons of bright cotton decorated everything. All the hues were bright and vibrant. Gold! Red! Pink! Violet! they screamed. The Greeks were entranced. It was a mutual love affair between the pure, classical Greek style and the colourful, elaborate Indian manner. It was sparkling white marble meeting bright fuchsia silk. It was like cold vanilla ice-cream and hot fudge sauce. It was calm restraint meeting wild abandon. Everyone exclaimed at everything. There wasn’t a single thing that the Indians didn’t adore about the Greeks, and the Greeks thought that everything in Taxila was fabulous.
For five days, there was one big party going on. We walked through the streets on carpets of flowers, ate to the songs and instruments of India, and made love in a huge bed in an airy room overlooking a garden filled with the deep, mysterious, intoxicating fragrances of India.
The moon rose and hung fat and satisfied in the sky. The stars twinkled and shone. Alexander wrapped yellow silk covers around us and kissed me from my toes to my nose, saying all the dirty words he’d already picked up from the Indians.
He had an amazing ear for languages.
Besides all the obvious bodily functions, he’d picked up orders such as: ‘Give me’, ‘I want’, ‘Don’t touch’, and ‘Hot!’ – that was for the curry – ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’, ‘How much?’, and ‘Beautiful’. Five days in India and he was already ordering the servants around, much to their hilarity, when he told them ‘want the window to eat hot curry now’. He was trying to tell them to open the window because we were hot. To tell the servant to change Chiron’s diaper he said, ‘Go away please baby shit.’
The servants loved him. They were always walking in on us. They were never embarrassed by anything we were doing. I was embarrassed. King Taxiles showed Alexander some erotic drawings and miniatures from a thick folder. Alexander turned bright red and looked over at me. I raised my eyebrows and asked to see, but Alexander told me to forget it. He was blushing.
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