‘It’s my birthday,’ he said.
And I realized with a shock that he was right.
Chapter Nineteen
We waited for the rest of the army. Darius was taken out of the wagon, bathed, and wrapped in Alexander’s cloak. We spoke little, ate what the fleeing army had left behind, and slept uneasily wrapped in our cloaks underneath an olive tree. In the morning, my arms were covered with dew. I was so thirsty I licked it all off.
Alexander was staring at me with a rapt expression.
‘I love how you do that,’ he said.
‘It takes a few years of practice.’
‘Can I do it?’
‘You can try,’ I smiled at him and licked some more. I was filthy. The dew was mixed with sweat and blood but the salt tasted good. I was burned by the sun, dehydrated, my skin was rubbed raw from riding, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month. What’s more, I didn’t want to hear the word ‘horse’ ever again.
‘Ashley ...’ His voice was tentative.
‘What is it?’ I tried to sit up, figured it hurt too much to be worth the effort, and lay back down. ‘Are you going to say you’re sorry? Because if you are, I don’t want to hear it.’
‘How did you know what I was going to say?’ He looked surprised.
‘Because I haven’t forgotten Paul either,’ I said gently. ‘But it’s not your fault. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find him. I have faith in you.’
‘Thank you, Ashley of the Sacred Sandals.’ He leaned over and kissed me, which he did very well, and my arms were just creeping around his neck, when the sentry posted near the horses suddenly leapt to his feet and cried out, ‘I see men coming!’
‘Who is it?’ Alexander stood, all the feline grace back in his stance.
‘Artabazus!’ cried the sentry.
‘Who?’ I asked, still flat on my back and incapable of movement.
‘Barsine’s father,’ said Alexander, frowning down at me. ‘Can’t you get up?’
‘No, I hurt too much. I hope he has news of Barsine, I miss her.’
Alexander grinned. ‘So does the sports committee. But I do hope that Artabazus has decided to change sides.’
‘Change sides? Why?’
‘He was fighting with Bessus as of yesterday,’ he said dryly. ‘And as there’s only sixty of us left, I’d hate to have to fight just now.’
‘And you can count me out. I can just barely move my mouth to talk.’
Alexander looked interested. ‘Just your mouth? Not your tongue or anything else?’
I stuck my tongue out. ‘Plexis will be here soon. He was on foot, but not too far behind.’
‘Sixty of us plus Plexis, minus you, still leaves a lot less than Artabazus has with him.’
‘You’re turning chicken. Why, yesterday you faced down thirty thousand armed men. People will be writing songs about that for centuries. I bet it will become some sort of a legend.’
‘I bet you’re right.’ He looked immensely pleased with himself. ‘I did do something rather amazing, didn’t I? I’ll wager that when Artabazus hears about that, he’ll want me to marry all his daughters.’
‘And why not the wife as well?’ came a booming voice from behind us. Alexander whirled around.
‘Artabazus! I didn’t hear you coming!’ Alexander drew his sword and held it, a bit nervously I thought.
‘I’m waiting for an answer. Will you take the wife as well? Because she’s starting to wear me out.’
Barsine took after her father. He was huge; a giant with a red beard down to his waist and blue eyes like chips of turquoise in his wind-burned face. His hair, liberally streaked with grey, was a fiery blaze around his head. He stood with his hands crossed over his massive chest and didn’t even glance at the sword.
‘Artabazus! What are you telling the boy?’ A woman appeared. At least, I think it was a woman. She was as tall as Artabazus and wore a bronze breastplate that would have made my horse’s knees buckle. ‘Iskander! Is it true about Darius? Artabazus came to get us two nights ago. We rode as fast as we could. Is he still with Bessus?’
‘No,’ Alexander replied shortly.
‘Oh, that’s a relief! When Artabazus told me that scoundrel Bessus had taken the crown and was going to turn against Darius my ...’ Her voice died away when she saw Alexander’s expression. ‘Oh, no, oh no.’ She shook her head, swinging her braids from side to side. ‘Poor foolish man. Where is he?’
Alexander pointed to the still form wrapped in his cloak lying in the deep shade. His expression was stony.
I was still on my back, in the dappled half-light beneath an olive tree. I couldn’t see what was happening, but by the way the ground shook, I thought it was either an earthquake or Alexander’s entire army arriving. But it was just Artabazus’s tribe, filing by to pay their last respects to Darius.
We camped with them that evening.
They had come down out of the mountains to fight with Darius one last, glorious time against the young king. But Darius had been betrayed by Bessus, and Artabazus had gone to rally his own troops to try and save Darius, alas, too late.
The huge barbarian chieftain sat before the fire gnawing on half a goat. His eyes were sorrowful, and he put the goat down on his lap and leaned towards Alexander. ‘’Twasn’t because I had anything against you personally,’ he said seriously, ‘but you understand. My land is caught between that of Darius and that of Bessus. My tribe has guarded the Caspian Gates for generations.’
‘Thank you for letting me pass,’ said Alexander, a real smile on his face.
‘You didn’t think I would stop you, did you?’ Artabazus was amazed. ‘My own daughter’s husband.’ He shook his head. ‘No, ’twas going to be the best of fights, I’m sure. Darius had it all planned out. Your army caught between two forces, one behind and one in front. But he didn’t plan on treachery.’ His face darkened. ‘Bessus!’ He spat and the men around him all spat as well and growled like savage animals.
‘To be sure, I wasn’t too keen on fighting you myself, seeing as half my tribe stayed with you, but we would have worked something out.’
‘Maybe some games?’ suggested Alexander, his tone sly.
Artabazus laughed like a volcano erupting. ‘Exactly! Oh, we could have played some good ones.’ He wiped his eyes, serious again. ‘Poor Darius. A good man, to be sure, but a foolish one.’ He shook his head. ‘Always spoiling for a fight, then running away just when things got tough.’
‘I chased him across half the world,’ said Alexander dreamily.
Another tree trunk was tossed on the fire by a hulking tribesman, and red sparks flew into the air. Artabazus finished his goat and reached for another. His wife smiled at him tenderly, and he grinned back, goat sticking out of his teeth.
I lay back, comfortably propped against Alexander’s chest, sipped my hot broth, and blinked like a sleepy cat at the firelight.
We were surrounded by friendly giants. The shortest fellow was seven feet tall. They wore leather clothes that smelled like the animals they’d belonged to first, and they didn’t believe in washing their hair. But they were jolly and good-natured, loud talkers and hearty eaters. They had invited us to their campground, and they had sworn to replace the nine hundred horses Alexander had lost in the four-day chase. I liked them immensely, and I was sad that Barsine had chosen to stay at home, a place far in the north.
While we were sitting around the fire, a shadow appeared. It was small, compared to the barbarians, and it wobbled somewhat as it walked. The sentries didn’t spot it, but Alexander did. He leapt to his feet.
It was Plexis. Footsore and exhausted, he appeared among us like a spectre, his eyes two black holes in his white face. He saw Alexander and his smile was blinding. ‘Iskander!’
They fell into each other’s arms. Whatever differences there had been in the past were over. There was no more hesitation, no doubts. Plexis buried his face in Alexander’s neck and sobbed.
‘Hephaes
tion.’ His voice was tender. I’d never heard him call Plexis by his full name.
‘My horse died and I think I broke my collarbone,’ Plexis said, when he got his breath back.
‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ll give you another horse. You can have first pick when Artabazus brings the herds down from the pastures.’ He led Plexis to the fire and made him sit. Then he gave him soup from his own bowl and wine from his golden cup. When Plexis fell asleep, slumping over as suddenly as a child, Alexander wrapped a blanket around him and made the men around the fire hush.
Our eyes met across his sleeping form. It was like a play of four mirrors.
We all slept right there around the fire. Throughout the night, I was woken by terrible growls and roars, but it was just the fearsome barbarians snoring. Every time the fire showed any signs of dying down, a brawny arm would stretch out, grab a branch the size of a small tree, and toss it onto the fire. A shower of sparks would fountain up to rival the stars, and there would be a chorus of thumps as everyone beat out the embers that had landed on them. Then we would fall asleep again.
When day broke, everyone awoke, stretching, yawning and scratching. I managed to get to my feet and tottered off in search of a stream in which to bathe.
I had long ago lost any notion of modesty, so I squatted in the deep ditch that served as a latrine next to several other men and women doing their business. Afterwards, I found the stream and I shucked off my robes and started to wash. I must admit that I was so sore, and my skin so raw, that I didn’t bother scrubbing with handfuls of sand. I simply sat in the stream and let the running water clean my body. Then I turned and lay down on my belly. The stream was only about a foot deep, so I had to duck my whole head underwater to wash my hair.
I grabbed a couple of rocks and ducked under, letting the current wash my hair for me. When I came up for breath, I saw about fifty men on the banks of the stream, on their knees, watching me.
‘Hail, daughter of Demeter, water nymph, goddess of the stream,’ they intoned. ‘We ask your permission to drink.’
I was used to this by now. Plexis was in the camp and he was up to his old tricks. I searched for him and saw him, standing under the birch trees, trying to hide his grin, his arm in a sling.
‘By all means, drink,’ I said, getting to my feet and trying to salvage some dignity. Not easy to do when you’re naked and you recognize the fellow who’d been in the latrine next to you. ‘Would you please hand me my robe?’
It was sopping; someone had washed it for me. I sighed and draped wet wool over my shoulders, then I waded out of the stream. ‘I suppose this means you won’t be an assistant cook?’ I asked Plexis.
He smiled. He’d never looked so happy. His collarbone was badly broken, his face was drawn, and huge violet bruises surrounded his eyes, but they were clear as rainwater. I sat under the tree on a patch of soft moss, and started to comb out my hair with my fingers. He sat with me, sighing, and leaned against the white trunk.
‘Do you have to tell people that I’m a goddess?’ I asked.
He leaned forward and caught me with his good arm, giving me a huge hug. ‘I’m so happy this morning,’ he said, letting go of me and sitting back again. ‘Look at that view, there’s not a cloud in the sky, the mountaintops seem just within reach. Why, I feel as if I could run to the top, scoop up some snow, and run back down before it melted.’
I sighed. ‘Plexis?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Oh, nothing. Here’s Iskander.’
Alexander had been gone when I woke up, but now he wandered over, holding a short spear. He planted it in the ground beside me and sat down. He was wearing a clean tunic and he smelled good, as if he’d just rolled in freshly cut grass.
‘I want to thank you, Plexis, for watching out for my wife.’ He spoke formally, and I heard Plexis take a sharp breath.
‘He tried to stop me,’ I said, ‘but I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry, I had to come.’
‘I know, but I was worried just the same. Did you think I hadn’t heard about the army closing in behind us? I knew we were caught in the jaws of a trap. We were lucky Bessus is a greater fool than Darius. His treachery lost Persia to me.’
‘I’m sorry about Darius,’ I said. I held out my arms and he came to me, laying his head on my shoulder. He was terribly thin, I realized suddenly. So thin I could feel every rib.
Plexis cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to give you something for your birthday,’ he said. He reached into his pouch and drew out a tightly rolled parchment. ‘Here, I’ve carried it since Persepolis.’
Alexander took it and carefully unwrapped it. ‘Oh!’ he breathed.
‘What is it?’ I craned my head around his shoulder to look. All I saw was an old, worn scroll wrapped around two ebony sticks.
Alexander didn’t answer right away. He seemed suddenly very concerned with a speck of dust on his skirt. Then he cleared his throat and said, ‘It’s the Iliad. A poem by Homer. It’s a very old copy, do you think it could be one of his?’
Plexis grinned. ‘No, it’s not possible. It can’t be more than a hundred years old, not five centuries. It’s a good copy, though. I found it in the library in Persepolis. I knew you’d like it. You never used to go to sleep at night before reading at least one verse.’
Alexander raised his head. ‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice raw. ‘Have you forgiven me, then?’
‘Do you really need ask?’ Plexis shook his head. ‘You’re my best friend, Iskander, and nothing will ever change that.’
‘Ahem,’ I coughed. ‘Well, what a nice birthday surprise. We’ll organize a party this evening, and I’ll bake a birthday cake with candles. Whom shall we invite? Artabazus? His wife? His army? That will be about ten thousand, so I’d better get cooking.’ I got up, intending to leave them alone, but Alexander pulled me down on his lap.
‘What are you babbling about?’ he asked, amused.
He held me in his arms so I propped my chin on his shoulder and blew softly in his ear, making him laugh. He had been swimming; his hair was wet and hung in light brown ringlets, lifting off his temples and forehead. His skin was very white behind his neck. I glanced at Plexis. His amber eyes were very bright.
It is rather confusing to love your husband and a man who loves your husband. Especially if you truly love your husband. However, everyone loved my husband. He was the king, he was young, he was handsome, he was dashing and intelligent. Who could resist him? I only wished he were more resistible.
Alexander took my face in his hands. He tipped my head slightly, catching the sun in my eyes. ‘Such frost in the heart of summer,’ he said, and his voice had lost its lightness.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Oh, no reason. The new horses are coming; I feel the ground vibrating. Tomorrow morning the rest of the army will catch up with us, and we will head over the mountains. I’ve always wanted to go to the other side of the world. Ashley?’
‘Yes?’
‘If you’re not a goddess, then, please tell me, who or what are you? Are you a nymph?’
‘No,’ I shrugged.
‘Are you a dryad then?’ Plexis asked.
‘A dryad?’ I echoed. ‘What’s that?’
‘You’ve never heard of a dryad?’ It was Alexander, his expression shocked.
‘Well, no. I can’t say I have. Is it that serious?’
‘And you don’t know about nymphs.’ Plexis spoke heavily.
I looked from one man to the other. ‘So?’
‘Ashley.’ Alexander took my hand and held it gingerly. ‘Everyone learns about nymphs and dryads from their parents in our world. Everyone knows about the naiads, sprites, sylphs, oreads, undines, fauns, and fates. Do you know who Lachesis is?’ I shook my head. ‘Clotho? No? Atropos? The Muses? Do you know anything?’ He sounded as if he were in real pain.
I looked at Plexis. He was staring at me, and on his face was the strangest expression. I tried to laugh but the sound stuck in my throat. ‘I’m sorry
,’ I whispered, ‘I didn’t learn about any of that.’
‘But you said you went to school. You had teachers, you knew about Plato and Homer, you even spoke to Aristotle about the world being round. And that’s a new idea.’ He shook his head. ‘I just don’t understand.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I blinked. I wasn’t used to anyone paying so much attention to me. It was unnerving. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘But where were you educated?’ Alexander asked me. ‘Even the barbarians know about dryads!’
‘I can’t tell you,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Why not? I just don’t understand you, Ashley.’ There was such pain in his voice that I felt awful.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, ‘but I can’t.’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well you don’t say anything,’ said Plexis. ‘This is what the oracle meant, wasn’t it? I’ll find out on my deathbed, after we’ve reached the sacred river and after I’ve seen the twelve pillars.’
‘What’s that?’ Alexander said, attentive.
‘An oracle’s riddle.’ Plexis shrugged. ‘I don’t know where the sacred river is, perhaps in India, I heard of one that flowed there. But I know not where the twelve pillars are.’
I stared at Plexis, he looked at me and then his face softened. He smiled. ‘Don’t cry. Why, thanks to you I’m probably the only person in the whole world to look forward to my own death.’
‘Don’t say that.’ Shivering, Alexander put his hand across Plexis’s mouth.
Plexis took it and kissed it, drawing it across his cheek. He looked at it a moment, turned it over, and traced a faint scar on the thumb. Their fingers entwined. Then Plexis placed Alexander’s hand on my leg. ‘You’re going to have your hands full teaching your wife everything she needs to know before we get back to civilization,’ he said in a light voice.
Alexander didn’t say anything, but I felt his sorrow keenly.
‘Is it because of me?’ I asked Plexis.
He shook his head, mute.
‘I won’t stand in your way,’ I said to Alexander. ‘If you love him I won’t stand in your way.’
The Road to Alexander Page 27
