The Road to Alexander

by Jennifer Macaire

I blushed. ‘I’m sorry, but I had to wear a costume that would allow me to pass unmolested through the army lines.’

  ‘My soldiers would never molest a woman. They don’t need to, for one thing. The women all give themselves freely. They seem to like our fair colouring, and they beg for babies.’ He shook his head. ‘No, you didn’t disguise yourself for that reason. You did it so you could be sure to see me. I am interested in dreams, you know. I dreamt about a dragon last night. As long as you’re here, and pretending to be an onirocrite, I’ll tell you all about it.

  ‘I dreamt I was a great dragon. I was covered in gold and green scales, and as I flew through the air, I kept my eyes open for something to eat, because I was very hungry. Are you getting all this?’

  I had gooseflesh, but I nodded. ‘Yes, go on.’

  ‘Well, I saw something interesting and I swooped down to see what it was. Can you guess?’

  ‘Me,’ I said.

  ‘Why yes, that’s right! I saw you. But you were not dressed as you are now.’ He glanced at my nakedness and cleared his throat. ‘I mean, you weren’t dressed as a priestess. You had on a strange dress that hugged your legs and arms with a very intricate pattern, all in reds and purples. It was a very rich cloth, so I thought you must be a princess. Your hair, by the way, was down past your shoulders and quite amazing. I never saw hair that colour, as pale silver as the moonbeams. At first, I thought you were very old, because your hair was so white, but then I saw you were very young, and your hair was like the shining stuff the people in the east call “silk”. Your eyes were twin sapphires from Kashmir. You were such a treasure I didn’t think. I swooped down, caught you in my mouth, and flew back to my cave.

  ‘I was in a dilemma. I was terribly hungry and you were soft and sweet. However, I wanted to talk to you, because I could sense you held the key to my future. Then, just before dawn, I woke up. I woke up, and do you know the strangest thing of all? In my mouth, I found a pearl. There’s certainly a very simple explanation for that. Perhaps it came from the oysters I’d eaten that evening, or perhaps Hera, the queen of the goddesses, played a trick on me. But whatever it was, look, here it is. Can you explain this?’

  He reached over to the table and picked up a single, glowing, white pearl. It was one of the biggest, finest ones I’d ever seen.

  ‘Do you chew your oysters?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I love them, but I can’t bear to chew them. That must be the explanation. Now, you tell me, what is the future? Will I succeed? Will I see the edge of the earth?’

  I rolled over on the rug and looked for my clothes. ‘I’d love to stay and chat,’ I said, ‘but I have to go home.’

  He took my wrist and held me. ‘No. You’re not leaving. My dream was quite clear. It was almost as if I were awake. And I saw you, as you really are, not disguised. I insist you stay until I solve the mystery.’

  ‘What mystery?’ I gave a nervous laugh. ‘You ate an oyster that didn’t agree with you and had some bad dreams. It’s a common complaint. Take some bicarbonate and stay away from rich food for a few days.’

  He pulled me down on the rug and rolled over, pinning me beneath him. ‘You are my prisoner. There are several other little mysteries I’d like to clear up, and one of them involves your tongue.’

  ‘My tongue?’ I was confused.

  ‘Yes. I spoke to you in five different languages and you replied in each one. I even used the language of the barbarians and it posed no problem.’

  ‘Oh, that!’ I smiled. ‘That’s easy to explain. I had a very good tutor when I was young. I learned many languages. You’re not the only one with a gift for tongues.’

  ‘And how did you know my teacher was Aristotle? I simply mentioned an old Greek, and you spoke his name.’

  ‘Everyone knows you were taught by Aristotle,’ I said. ‘Now let me up, I must go.’

  ‘You said you loved me.’ He said this in a soft whisper, so low I nearly didn’t hear it. My skin prickled.

  ‘Does it matter?’ I asked. ‘You have an empire to conquer. Your army awaits. What place would I have by your side? You have places to go, cities to destroy ...’

  ‘I never destroy cities.’ He spoke sharply. ‘I build them.’

  ‘Sorry, it was a slip of the tongue.’

  ‘Slip it in here then,’ he murmured, and his mouth fastened on mine. We kissed, but I knew I had to leave immediately.

  Time travel involves minute planning, and I had to go back to the exact place I’d arrived to be picked up. If I didn’t, I would be left behind. My tradi-scope would be shut off, and I could never return to my time.

  I was faced with a terrible dilemma, but it was necessary. I couldn’t change history. It is the first thing a time-journalist learns. We learn to hide our feelings, to smother them, and to look at everything dispassionately. I’d easily mastered those techniques. What astonished me was how quickly I seemed to forget.

  I managed to wriggle from his grasp. It was dark and I had to grope around the tent to find my robe. I tucked the hated wig into my belt – I had to bring everything back or it would be docked from my pay check. I put the sandals on and winced as they rubbed against my sore feet. All this time Alexander was still, his eyes following me, his mouth drawn in a thin, unhappy line. When I was dressed he got to his feet and very formally walked me to the edge of the camp. He was naked, but he could have been wearing full military regalia from the way he held himself. He let go of my elbow when we reached the edge of the campfire’s orange light.

  ‘Shall I see you again?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m sorry.’ I leaned against his chest. My heart was aching worse than my feet, which was a blessing, because otherwise I would not have been able to walk all those miles back to the checkpoint. My trip had been a fiasco. I had no idea what I’d write about. Alexander hadn’t told me anything. When I got back, I’d be the laughing-stock of the world, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was I was about to leave behind the most incredible man I’d ever met.

  I hadn’t known I’d had a heart until it broke.

  He pressed the pearl into my hand before I left, and I clutched it. We weren’t allowed to bring back souvenirs, so when I arrived at the little hollow where I was to be picked up, I buried it beneath the pomegranate tree. A lone tear trickled down my cheek and dropped on the earth. I wondered what it would grow.

  Plant a pearl by the light of the moon, water it with tears ...

  A pale blue light seemed to come from nowhere. It encircled me and I could feel its coldness icing my blood and freezing it in my veins. My tears froze on my cheeks, and my teeth started chattering. Frost bloomed on my skin. Then I felt my chest being squeezed and my breath being forced out of me. The night seemed to swirl around in my head, and the stars stabbed me with their icy brightness. My heart was aching and I couldn’t breathe. I lost consciousness. The journey home had begun.

  There was a babble of voices that my tradi-scope couldn’t seem to handle. It whined and buzzed in my ears. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the cool, white Receiving Room at the Time Travel Institute. Instead, I saw flickering torches and the face of my lover bent over me, his eyes dark with worry.

  ‘Have no fear. I found you on time. I should have known, I should have guessed. But he won’t get you back, I saved you from him.’

  ‘Saved me from who?’ I gasped.

  ‘From Hades, of course! But it’s all over now; the cold demon has been driven away. When I saw you kneeling beneath the pomegranate tree, I recognized you. Persephone, sweet daughter of Demeter, will you stay by my side? I need you more than your cruel husband. And even he, the god of the dead, holds no terror for me.’

  I tried to lift my head, but the shock was too great. I thought, I must be dreaming. And then I knew nothing.

  Chapter Three

  I woke up with the sun shining on my face through a hole in the tent. I groaned and sat up. It was true then. It wasn’t a nightmare. Somehow, Alexander had torn me from the Time Traveller
Tractor Beam. It must have been a fearsome battle; I knew the strength of that particular magnetic field. I felt bruised all over.

  I shaded my eyes, searching for Alexander, but the tent was empty. I stood on wobbly legs and staggered over to the doorway. My muscles were stiff and my bones felt fragile. In front of the tent flap, three soldiers were playing dice. I nodded to them and they nodded back. One of them spoke to me, and I realized with horror my tradi-scope was no longer functioning. I couldn’t understand a word he said. I gasped and reeled backwards into the tent.

  What would become of me? I tried to calm myself. I did speak ancient Greek after all; I also spoke English, Italian, French and German. I hadn’t been joking when I said I had a good ear for languages. Alexander spoke Greek, of course. I simply had to start learning Persian, Phoenician, Egyptian and Sumerian. I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress. I would panic later, I thought. I went back to the soldiers and motioned eating and drinking. One sprang to his feet and trotted towards the mess tent. He came back a few minutes later with a pitcher of wine and a large piece of unleavened bread.

  My head was aching so I lay down on the bed and tried to rest. I also tried to remember if anybody had ever survived being left behind, or if anyone had ever been kidnapped. I couldn’t think of anyone. Actually, I couldn’t think at all. I was paralyzed with a sort of panic that made rational thought impossible. Instead, all sorts of weird things crossed my mind, such as what shall I wear? Whom can I trust? When can I get home? And, what will my mother think? On a purely mathematical level, I was now over three thousand years older than my own mother. It was a sobering thought, so I drank some wine.

  I decided the best thing to do would be to get drunk and go throw myself in the river. That way, I would be sure not to give away any secrets from the future, and I wouldn’t risk changing history. I drank more wine and things didn’t look so bad. Actually, they became almost funny. One or two cups later they were downright hysterical, and I was giggling when Alexander came into the tent.

  He tossed his bronze breastplate onto the bed and threw himself on the floor beside me, a wide, white grin on his tanned face. ‘What’s so funny?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘It’s the relief, Isn’t it? Knowing you don’t have to go back to the underworld. It must be a freezing, cold place, because you were like ice when I grabbed you. He almost succeeded in tearing you away, but I wouldn’t let go. I screamed that he’d have to take me too, so he released you.’

  ‘Did you see him?’ I asked, interested.

  ‘Your Greek is strange today,’ he said frowning at me. ‘No, I didn’t see him. Just a blue light. It must have been his minions. I would have been no match for Hades.’

  ‘Well, he’s punished me already,’ I said. ‘He’s taken away the gift of tongues, so now I only speak Greek.’

  ‘And a poor Greek it is,’ he said pityingly. ‘He’s left you sounding like an actor playing a Mesopotamian whore.’

  I winced. ‘I’m sorry. It’ll get better. I’m still trying to catch your accent.’

  ‘I have no accent,’ he told me gravely. ‘Well, it’s of no importance, I have you now, and that’s all that counts.’ He grinned. ‘Won’t Mother be jealous of you! She, who claims to be descended from Achilles and Thebes. You are the daughter of Demeter! I can’t wait to see her face. Aristotle will love you, I’m sure. He loves anyone who can humble Mother.’

  ‘I get to meet Aristotle?’

  ‘Why yes, when we marry. It will be a big wedding. I want to do things right this time. You are the daughter of a goddess.’ His face lit up. ‘Will your family want to come, do you suppose?’

  ‘No, I doubt it,’ I said. The alcohol was making this conversation even more bizarre than it already was. ‘They don’t like weddings, and anyway I’m not anyone very important, I told you that.’

  ‘It’s just as well. When the gods meddle with our lives it usually ends in disaster. Look at poor Midas.’

  I wondered if he was joking, but he seemed perfectly serious.

  ‘The sad part is,’ he said, and stopped.

  ‘What? What’s the sad part?’

  ‘Well, the fact that I’ll get old and you won’t. You have the gift of immortality and I don’t. However, when I get old and decrepit I’ll let you go. I won’t make you watch me die.’

  ‘Oh, Iskander!’ I cried. I swooned into his arms and then the wine won. I fell asleep, and probably snored loudly, until late in the afternoon.

  When I woke, my head was splitting. I never want to have another hangover brought on by honeyed wine. I was alone, but as soon as I stirred, a Greek guard poked his head in the tent and told me that Alexander was waiting for me at the riverside. I went to the swimming hole and there he was, lying on the beach. He was dressed in a linen tunic with a stiff, pleated skirt. It should have looked ridiculous, but he would have looked regal dressed in a pink Easter Bunny suit. Four slaves were standing over him, each holding a pole. The poles supported a canopy that kept the hot sun off. He saw me and got to his feet.

  ‘Did you want to see me?’ I asked.

  ‘I wanted to show you my horse. Come.’ We walked to the stables, the four slaves keeping step with us. I liked having the shade over our heads, but I hated the idea of slaves, so I whispered to Alexander that maybe they could go sit down for a while.

  He looked at me as if I’d gone mad. ‘They spend most of the day sitting. Poor chaps, they’ll die of boredom. Come on, we’re almost there.’ He gave a piercing whistle and was answered by a wild whinny. ‘That’s Bucephalus,’ he said proudly.

  The horse was smaller than I’d expected; more compact than the horses I was used to seeing. His back was short and strong, his neck was very thick and he had hardly any withers. His tail swept the ground, and his mane fell past his massive chest. He was reddish brown, with a black muzzle. His mane and tail were black as well.

  Thousands of years of domestication have rendered modern horses as interesting and intelligent as rutabagas. Bucephalus was different. His brain was still canny with all the instincts of a wild animal, and it showed in his broad forehead and large, bright eyes. He looked at me, and I could see his mind working. He looked at Alexander, and his eyes softened, and all his love shone in a warm light. He whickered and pushed his nose under Alexander’s arm.

  ‘Hey, Buci, hey boy.’ Alexander’s voice was rough with emotion, and he scratched the horse behind his small, pointed ears. He fed him some tidbits and then patted him on the neck.

  ‘Are you going to ride him?’ I asked.

  ‘Do I look like I’m dressed for riding?’

  He looked like he was going to try out for the cheerleading squad, but I didn’t say that. ‘No, but don’t you have to exercise him?’

  ‘He’s had enough exercise. We’ve been in three battles in as many months, and now we’re resting. It isn’t as calm as this all the time, you realize. We’re taking a break. In ten days we’ll be on the move. Nearchus will be back with news from Athens, and we’ll make our plans.’

  ‘Where are you going next?’ I asked.

  ‘Babylon. And then we marry.’ He smiled at me. ‘We have to plan our wedding. Shall I invite my mother?’

  ‘She’ll never get the invitation on time,’ I said.

  He was surprised. ‘Yes she will. If I send a message tonight she’ll get it in four days.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By bird, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ I hadn't given much thought to the methods of communication of the time. I realized I had a lot to learn. ‘Will she want to attend?’ I asked.

  ‘Who knows? We’ll give her time to come, though. You’ll hate her, Persephone,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Another thing,’ I said. I wasn’t sure how to bring this up but I had to. ‘My name isn’t really Persephone.’

  ‘It’s not?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s Ashley.’

  ‘Ashley? What sort of
name is that?’

  ‘It’s the one my mother gave me, and I’ve gotten used to it. No one calls me Persephone,’ I said.

  ‘Ashley, ashes, ash. Was it because she was goddess of the hearth? No, your mother is Demeter, goddess of the harvest. Ashley. Well, I suppose I’ll get used to it. Iskander and Ashley.’ He rolled my name around in his mouth and seemed to like the taste of it. ‘Hmmm, it’s nice. Ashley. Ashhhhhhleeeeeeey.’

  ‘Oh stop it.’ I swatted his butt.

  ‘Assssssshhhhhhhllllllleeeeeeeeyyyy.’ He stuck his tongue out and ducked behind one of the impassive slaves when I lunged at him. ‘You are so slow!’ he exclaimed.

  I dived at him again, but missed. It was annoying. I dashed after him – after all, I was no mean sprinter and I’d racked up some running medals in school. He ran backwards and outdistanced me as if I were standing still. I was perplexed. He seemed to defy the laws of gravity. And dressed in a skirt.

  We were near the river and the running had made us hot, so we stripped off our clothes and plunged into the water.

  ‘Last one to the opposite shore is a rotten egg!’ I called and started across. I swam well. Being a member of a posh country club had its advantages.

  He swam past me and pushed me underwater before streaking away.

  ‘Damn him,’ I muttered. Was there nothing I could do better than he? I finished the race alone, watching him as he splashed on the far side of the river. I slowed to a leisurely breaststroke to watch him. He glowed in the sunshine. His head was crowned in gold. His body seemed made of ivory and rose. The clear, amber water surrounded him like a setting for a precious jewel. I stroked against the current, letting myself drift a bit downstream so I could get a better look at my future husband, Alexander the Great.

  I didn’t see the crocodile until it was nearly upon me. I screamed. It was terrifying – fifteen feet long and covered in black and yellow scales.

  Alexander heard me and turned his head. I kept my eyes on Alexander all the while backstroking frantically away from the beast. There was a moment when Alexander’s body left the water. Then he disappeared under the surface. The crocodile was coming at me, propelling itself with its strong tail; its body weaving back and forth, mouth open, showing jagged rows of teeth. Suddenly, it seemed to stop and swim backwards. A terrific wave broke over its head, and Alexander was sitting on the creature’s back, his hands locked under its jaw, his legs wrapped around its middle.