The crocodile opened its mouth wide and hissed, it bucked and twisted. Alexander was lost in a thrashing froth of white water. I found my voice and screamed.
His guards were never far away. They came hurtling to the riverside and threw themselves into the water. Knives glinted in their hands as they jumped into the fray. Most of them, I saw, were grinning.
The crocodile had no chance against five trained soldiers. It was soon floating belly-up in the river while the men pushed it upstream, singing a loud, probably bawdy song. Alexander sat on its stomach, riding it in triumph, waving his arms and singing along with the others.
I couldn’t believe my ears. He was totally tone deaf. His singing was an ear-splitting cacophony. I smiled in grim satisfaction. I had perfect pitch.
After the soldiers, still singing, had lugged the crocodile away, Alexander and I sat in the sand. I felt shy. Not because I was nude, sitting under a canopy held up by four huge Nubians, and I’d just been saved from a monstrous crocodile. I was shy because I had started to perceive the enormous gulf that separated us. The gulf was more than just time, more than cultural or physical. It was there because I’d grown up in a society where everything was controlled and regulated – where fake feelings were served up in cellophane packages such as movies, and real emotions were throttled or turned into derision. People didn’t burst into song because they had wrestled with a crocodile. They didn’t have the candid expressions these men had. People in my time had stony faces and avoided eye contact. They didn’t touch each other, and they didn’t speak unless spoken to. People here wore their emotions on the outside, they spoke their minds, and they expected me to do the same.
I couldn’t. I realized that I would never be able to fit in. I was troubled for the rest of the evening, and during the dinner I observed everyone, but never joined in the conversation. Alexander watched me. Once I thought he would ask me something. He opened his mouth, then frowned and shut it. I felt something, but didn’t know if it was disappointment or relief.
I drank more than I should have that night. I don’t remember going to the tent, or falling asleep. Perhaps it was the shock. I felt as if I were floating above everything, as if I could see through everyone. Mostly, though, I felt as if my own body were transparent, and that I had no more substance than a ghost.
Dawn poked rosy fingers into the tent, and I opened my eyes and tried to focus them. It seemed that my head had been hurting for three days, and I wondered where I could find some aspirin. Alexander looked fresh and fit. His eyes were clear and he sat cross-legged on the floor while his slave shaved his cheeks.
‘Do you want him to shave your head?’ he asked.
I reached up and felt my stubble. ‘No thanks, I think I’ll let it grow.’
‘Wise choice, but you’ll get sunburned if you refuse to wear your wig.’
‘My wig,’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Where is that damn thing, anyway?’
‘I think they used it to start the fire last night.’ He sounded amused.
‘Good riddance.’ I rolled over on the bed and stretched. ‘Breakfast?’
‘The sun is rising, and I must go and show myself to my troops.’ He sounded regretful, and he kissed the tip of my nose. ‘You can go to the village and buy yourself some robes for the wedding.’ He lifted the lid of a wooden box and gave me some coins. ‘That should do. Get something nice.’
‘But it’s barely dawn,’ I protested. ‘Everyone will be asleep.’
‘No, it’s market day. Don’t come back with any live animals, though, I can’t bear women who have pets.’
‘Your mother?’ I guessed.
He nodded, his face dark. ‘She had a parrot that sat on her shoulder. If we got too close to her, it would leap at us and bite our noses. My sister was almost disfigured.’ He shuddered.
‘My mother had a spaniel. If I got too close, it would growl and she’d say, ‘Ashley, don’t upset Hector!’
Alexander burst out laughing. ‘I didn’t know the goddesses had pets. What’s a spaniel? A sort of dragon?’
I choked and shook my head. ‘No, no, it’s a dog. A little dog,’ I put my hand a foot from the ground. ‘Like this.’
‘Why didn’t you kill it?’
‘I couldn’t! Did you kill the parrot?’
‘No,’ he smirked. ‘My sister did. She poisoned the beast.’
‘How dreadful! How did she manage that?’
‘She put poison on her nose. Mother was furious. Poor Nike.’
‘Nike?’
‘Thessalonike. My sister. I call her Nike. Her husband, Cassander, is a nice enough fellow. When Nike married him she made sure Mother didn’t come to their wedding. She was afraid Mother would try something foolish, like poison, to avenge her parrot.’
‘What a family,’ I muttered.
‘Oh, our growl is worse than our bite,’ he said.
The slave came back with a tray holding a bowl of yoghurt and some fresh fruit. Alexander thought it was funny when I tried to talk to the slave.
‘He won’t answer you,’ he said. ‘He can’t talk.’
‘Oh, what language does he speak?’
‘None now. They cut off his tongue at birth.’
‘Poor man! It’s criminal!’
‘They didn’t only cut off his tongue,’ he said, winking at the man who stood impassively. ‘They cut off his ...’
‘Don’t say it!’ I held up my hand. Alexander, I’m going to tell you something very important. You must not own slaves. Slaves are human beings, just like us.’
He frowned and reached over to touch my forehead. ‘You have no fever.’ He sat back and shrugged. ‘Of course they’re human beings. But what should I do with poor Brazza? He has no family, no tongue with which to speak, no testicles to engender babies – should I just turn him out?’ He addressed the slave in a guttural dialect. The slave looked shocked, then amused, and stuck his chin into the air, tipping his head back. ‘See? He doesn’t want to leave. Now finish your breakfast and go to the village. I have to see my generals now.’ He kissed me softly on the lips, and went.
* * *
The village was swarming with people. Everybody was up and about. It made sense when I thought about it. The afternoons were blazingly hot, and only in the morning or evening could one stay outside very long.
There were little stands set up everywhere. Some sold wine, others food. There were animals, birds, fish, gold, silver, and bolts of brightly coloured cloth. Everyone mingled, the rich and the poor, the beggars, the soldiers, the whores, and the priests. There was a group of vestal virgins, surrounded by their eunuchs. They were admiring a man juggling oranges and knives. He would cut the oranges as he juggled and he passed the pieces to the virgins, never once dropping anything. A small monkey sat on his head and shrieked.
Everyone was shouting or laughing. There were no written signs, so wares were advertised by criers. An important-looking man with a long scroll stood on a block of carved marble and read something in a loud, singsong voice. When he finished reading he’d take a drink from the wineskin slung around his neck and start all over again. I guessed he was the morning news. There were people speaking Greek, Phoenician, Persian, Coptic, Egyptian, Arabic, and at least five or six other languages. Translators rushed back and forth, translating prices and news for a few coins. I found one who spoke Greek, and asked him to come with me.
He bowed and said his name was Nassar. He was a small man, black-haired and wiry. He wore a rectangle of unbleached muslin draped around his shoulders Greek-style.
‘Can you tell me what he’s saying?’ I asked, pointing to the man standing on the marble pillar.
‘Certainly. He’s telling everyone the latest news.’ He frowned. ‘He’s saying Plato died.’
I did some mental arithmetic and frowned. ‘That’s the latest news? He died thirteen years ago.’
Nassar listened some more and shook his head. ‘No, I got it wrong. He’s saying that tonight at the amphitheatre there’s to
be a play by the late Plato. His accent is terrible; I wonder how much wine he’s drunk.’ He listened some more, frowning. ‘He says Nearchus will be returning with the other half of Iskander’s army in three days. Ah, now that’s interesting. There is to be a virgin sacrifice to appease Hera; apparently some girl has made her jealous again.’
‘What happens when Hera gets jealous?’ I asked.
‘Oh, war, famine, exploding volcanoes. The usual. My guess is one of the temple virgins made the head priestess jealous, but then again, I’m an atheist.’
‘But that’s awful! That poor girl! I thought human sacrifice was an abomination.’
‘We’re not in Greece any more,’ Nassar shrugged. He had a very eloquent shrug.
‘When’s the sacrifice?’ I asked.
‘In three days.’
‘I’ll have to speak to Alexander about that,’ I muttered. ‘He’s supposed to be bringing Greek culture to the rest of the world.’
‘Now he’s saying that there’s a sale on parrots near the temple.’
‘I need a wedding dress,’ I told him.
He glanced at my vestal virgin attire and grinned. ‘Did the news about the sacrifice make you nervous?’
‘Wouldn’t it make you nervous?’ I asked him.
‘If I were a virgin, yes. Now, over here we have cloth from Egypt, nice cotton, and some fine linen. There’s silk if you can believe it, all the way from the land of the yellow devils.’
I fingered the silk and the cotton, both were very expensive and of poor quality. I ended up buying some fine linen. I found some that had been dyed a rich crimson and I bought a yellow sash to tie around my waist. I also decided I needed a head covering, so I bought another wig, but this one was very simple and light, consisting of a thin braid wrapped all the way around the crown.
‘Good choice,’ said Nassar when I paid for it. ‘Finest quality hair from Indus. The braids are taken from dead soldiers. They never cut their hair there, you know.’
I gagged and tore the wig off my head. Holding it delicately with two fingers, I went back to the wig stand and traded it for a simple turban made of bleached cotton.
‘You’re a strange girl, you know,’ said Nassar.
‘That’s what I’ve been told,’ I said.
‘Look! Honey-roasted nuts!’ Nassar had a sweet tooth. I bought him some nuts, and he followed me, happily crunching, while I wandered about the marketplace. Then he wiped his face with the hem of his robe. ‘Now what?’ he asked.
‘Now I go back to camp. You’ll have to come with me; I don’t have any money left to pay you.’
He nodded and we trotted back to the encampment. He faltered when we arrived and tugged on my arm. ‘That’s Iskander’s tent,’ he whispered.
‘I know. That’s who I’m marrying.’
His eyes widened. ‘Iskander?’ I shot to dizzying heights in his esteem. ‘Does he need a translator?’ he whispered.
‘No, he doesn’t, but I do. How many languages do you speak?’
He counted on his fingers then bent down to look at his toes. I caught his arm.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘If I can, I’ll hire you. What’s your rate?’
He wriggled his nose like an excited bunny. ‘Food and lodging, writing instruments and a few coins now and then. I write letters too, and if I can work in Iskander’s army I’ll make lots of money.’ He rubbed his hands together, and then looked worried. ‘But what if he says no?’
‘Why would he say no?’ I was amused.
‘Because I’m from Babylon. Everyone knows Iskander is on his way there to conquer it. He may think I’m a spy.’
‘Are you?’
‘No! I’m apolitical,’ he said proudly, ‘and an atheist. I embrace all the latest philosophies from Athens. Personally, I can’t wait until Iskander conquers Babylon, I was getting tired of it. A city needs change to thrive. We haven’t had any excitement since Nebuchadnezzar. I’m named after him, you know. Nassar is just my nickname.’
‘I’m impressed.’ I waved to the soldiers guarding the tent and they stood at attention as I drew near.
‘Iskander is waiting for you,’ one said.
‘Oh, thank you.’ I thought of something. ‘What are your names, please?’ I asked.
‘You address us according to our rank,’ said the Greek soldier. ‘I am captain of the guards, and these are my sergeants. My name is Lysimachus.’
I was startled. I had heard of him in my history classes. ‘Thank you, Captain.’ I ducked under the tent flap the sergeant was holding aside.
‘How was the market?’ Alexander was sitting behind his table, looking at a beautifully drawn map of the area. Every now and then he’d take a piece of straw and poke it through the parchment, making a tiny hole. Then he’d hold the map up to the light and squint at it.
‘Nice, very nice,’ I said. ‘I met a translator and he worked for me all morning. Do you mind giving him some money? I spent everything you gave me on a wedding dress.’
He took a couple of coins and gave them to me. ‘All right, speak your mind, woman.’
‘Speak of what?’
‘Whatever it is you want to ask. I sense your uncertainty.’
‘Oh.’ I uncrossed my feet. ‘Well, I was wondering if we could keep Nassar. He’s a good translator. He speaks many languages, almost as many as you. He said he’d be happy to write letters for your soldiers.’
‘Hmmm. Maybe. What’s the problem?’
‘He’s from Babylon,’ I said. ‘He’s afraid you’ll think he’s a spy.’
‘He probably is.’ He shrugged. ‘But I don’t mind. Spies are as numerous as mosquitoes around this camp. Where’s the dress?’
‘I can’t show you, it’s bad luck.’ I hesitated, then blurted, ‘Iskander, there’s more. You have to put a stop to human sacrifice. It’s not right. There’s one scheduled three days from now!’
‘No problem,’ he grinned and stood up, stretching. ‘I’ll just slaughter all the priestesses and the priests at the temple. That should take care of it for a while.’
‘No, no!’ I stamped my foot. ‘That’s not what I meant. Give an order or give a speech. You have charisma and power enough to influence them.’
‘I was just teasing.’ He shook his head. ‘You must take me for a barbarian. I suppose the gods live differently – no slaves, no sacrifices – but we’re on earth now, and you’ll have to get used to some things.’
‘I’ll try to settle in, but Rome wasn’t built in a day,’ I said.
‘Rome wasn't built in a day,’ repeated Alexander, savouring the words. ‘I like that.’ He smiled. ‘Do the gods have many sayings like that?’
‘Many,’ I said seriously. ‘Oh, Alex, can we go to the theatre tonight? They’re doing something by Plato.’
‘Why not? Plato’s dry, though. I hope they also have some comedy.’
‘Plato’s dry?’
‘I could barely get through his Republic, no action.’ Alexander cocked his head and stared at me. ‘Did you call me Alex a moment ago?’
‘Alex? I guess so, is that all right?’
‘My sister used to call me Alex. I like it. But don’t call me that in front of my men.’
‘OK.’
‘What does Oh-kay mean?’
‘It means sure, all right, yes.’
‘In what language? I’ve never heard it?’
‘Well, I’m not sure. It must be something left over from the gift of tongues. Never mind.’
Alexander sat down again. ‘There’s something so strange about you,’ he said, and he sounded almost sad.
I looked at him and wished that I could tell him everything. But I knew that if I changed the course of history, the people at the Time Travel Institute would activate their infernal machine and erase me from time, as easily as Alexander was taking out the small villages on his map with the poke of a stick. I would cease to be. I didn’t want that to happen.
Marrying Alexander might change a few things,
but nothing radical. Alexander had had numerous wives; supposedly he married one woman in every city he conquered. No one knows for sure how many he married. Officially, there were Roxanne and Darius’s daughter. However, marriages at the time were not like our marriages. They weren’t written contracts. They were often, as he’d said, politics. His heirs would be the boys or girls he cared to claim. Alexander had been born to his father’s concubine.
I wasn’t worried about suddenly appearing in the history books. The written word was rare. I was in an aural society, where speaking was more important than writing; where people chose what they said with care. Pledges were made orally, and they held as much power as a document would centuries later. When someone asked a question, he listened carefully to the answer because survival could depend on what was said. Stories were told, but lies were few. People in this time picked up every nuance in speech. When they talked, it was to communicate. They would gather and discuss religion and philosophy, and the latest way to make purple dye. Everything interested them. They had come to a point in history where the world was changing and people were travelling more than ever. New ideas were coming from the four corners of the known world, and all ideas were considered. Everyone embraced everyone else’s notions. They were new, different, and amusing. It was a time of expansion and people were ready.
Alexander’s army had been carefully chosen. As a soldier, he wanted fighting men. However, as a keen politician, he wanted men who would impress people in other lands. He wanted his men to be educated, so he would often talk to them about the things he’d learned from Aristotle. And the men listened. Most were young men eager for travel and change, open-minded and curious. They remembered his words. Afterwards, when they were left behind in a garrison town, either because they had been wounded or had been married to a local girl, they continued Alexander’s mission. They repeated everything he’d told him, and people listened and told their families and friends. So, much faster than you would expect, Greek civilization swept across Asia.
The Road to Alexander Page 5
