The man only had a limited time here then he had to return to his appointment with the magnetic beam or be forced to live in 323 BC. He had no intention of staying. He kept glancing at his wrist where, of course, there was no watch. Then he looked out the window where the shadows were growing long.
A guard came in, leading one of the envoys and a translator. I recognized the man from Gaul. He wanted to pay his respects, he told me, speaking through the translator.
I nodded, and glanced at the journalist, who was leaning forward expectantly.
The Gaul put down his staff, knelt, and touched his head to the floor. Then he stood and began to chant. While chanting, he bent over and pressed one hand to his chest, and the other on Alexander’s forehead. I half rose, meaning to stop him, but the Gaul stepped back, picked up the staff he’d placed near the bed, and left, his translator and the guard at his heels. Usse and I looked at each other. What had that been about?
The journalist, too, looked disappointed. Perhaps he’d thought the Gaul could miraculously heal Alexander. Poor fellow. His interview had been a disaster.
Olympias came and did her wailing and hair-tearing act. Then Sis entered the throne room, and together, the two queens made quite a show. The journalist watched everything with wide eyes. Sis had shaved her head, and her face and hands were gray with ashes. Olympias hadn’t cut her lovely hair too short, she was far too vain, but she was covered with soot. Both were dressed in black robes, trailing ashes in their wakes. When I remember the palace of Nebuchadnezzar, that is the image I see—black robes and ashes.
When the queens had wailed and gnashed their teeth enough, Usse stepped forward and quietly yet firmly asked both women to leave. They walked away, sobbing loudly. Each queen trying to sob louder than the other.
After the queens left there were a few moments of blessed silence as the sun sank below the horizon and the sky darkened. Cool air stole into the room, and I sent the deaf slave away. The slave bowed to me, and to Alexander, then left on silent feet, carrying his fan on his shoulders. I looked out the window and watched as clouds moved across the sky, hiding the first pale stars. There was a taste of ashes in my mouth.
A few more questions about India, and the journalist rose to his feet and took his leave. He looked dejected. I could sympathize with him. He had travelled all the way back to Alexander’s time to stare at a man in a coma and watch two mad women screaming while a very pregnant woman sat and cried. His report was going to be a dismal failure.
Millis stepped out from behind the curtain where he’d been hiding. In the dusk, the whites of his eyes shone. He was frightened.
At a discrete signal from Usse, Millis followed the journalist. Usse and I took Alexander’s litter and trailed them at a distance.
I was big-bellied and clumsy, but my pregnancies never made me weak. I carried the litter easily. Alexander had wasted away during his illness, and I was shocked at how little he weighed. I hoped that my plan would work. Otherwise, we could do nothing to save him. He would die that night.
Millis came back to get us and motioned for us to hurry. The magnetic beam had deposited the man in an empty alleyway not far from the palace’s garbage dump. An out-of-the-way place with no prying eyes.
I saw the tell-tale blue light beginning to form in a dark corner and said to Usse, ‘We must hold him inside until he is frozen, then we will have to fight to wrench him out again.’
‘Very well, my lady,’ said Usse. His eyes were wide, and a nerve in his cheek began to twitch.
Millis looked terrified, but he swallowed bravely and took Alexander under the arms, lifting him off the stretcher. He and Usse would have to do everything; I couldn’t help. Already I felt ominous cramps in my lower back. The baby kicked.
The time-traveller stepped into the sparkling beam. He had his back to us and didn’t see us coming. When Alexander was thrust inside the beam with him, he panicked. He tried to shove him out, but Millis and Usse held fast.
Alexander turned silver. Millis stared in horror as his own arms suddenly became covered with pale, glittery frost. Usse had been warned; he set his jaw and held onto Alexander.
The time-traveller tried one last time to push Alexander from the beam. He opened his mouth several times but was incapable of speech. He was almost frozen. Then there was a massive jolt as the beam tried to accommodate the two men. Usse and Millis used all their strength to hold Alexander firmly within the light. I watched helplessly as the time-traveller was ejected from the beam. He flew against the courtyard and hit the wall with a sickening crunch. He had been frozen and the shock killed him. He was dead before he hit the ground. I put my hands to my mouth. I was overcome by nausea.
The man was dead. Suddenly I remembered what the oracle had told me: that I would kill a man in order to return to my own time. I looked at the beam and gave a sharp cry. If I wanted to, I could go back to my own time. I had to decide immediately because in a few moments it would be too late. I reached towards the shimmering blue column; the urge to escape was instinctive and strong. I felt the need to flee, to rush into the beam and return to my place and time. The urge lasted only a second. Then I drew a deep breath. I would never abandon my husband or my children. If Alexander died, it was too late for regrets. I’d lived ten years with the man I loved. Tears pricked my eyes. I would never regret loving him, and I wouldn’t run away now.
Alexander began to freeze. I watched as frost bloomed on his arms and legs, as his face silvered and his hair turned sparkling white. His breathing slowed and stopped. His eyes glazed over as a film of ice formed on them. Soon a scintillating coat of frozen water covered him. His body turned lavender and shimmered. Then he started to vanish.
‘Now!’ I screamed. Millis and Usse pulled backwards. There was a huge tug-of-war; the beam was incredibly strong and it didn’t want to give up the body within it.
But just as Alexander had torn me from its grasp more than ten years ago, so Usse and Millis yanked Alexander out in a shower of flashing blue and silver sparks. There was a sound like a chorus of moans, and the beam disappeared. We placed Alexander carefully on the stretcher. Now we had to carry him to my room and we had to wait. Before we left, I turned to the time-travelling journalist, lying dead near the wall. I searched for his amulet recorder, but it was nowhere to be found. It must have fallen off in the scuffle and had been sent back to the future.
He had been a middle-aged man, maybe forty or so. He didn’t look like Alexander, but he would have to do. I told Millis to take him and to place his body on Alexander’s bed in the Grand Palace, cut his hair, like Alexander’s, and cover him with a linen sheet. The journalist didn’t have any of Alexander’s scars, but he did have warm brown hair. He was dead, and in death, would impersonate Alexander.
I hoped that Alexander would live.
In the heat of the sultry night, the ice was already starting to melt off Alexander’s face and hair. Rivulets of water ran down his neck and chest. His body was still blue and sheathed in ice. He was frozen. He looked dead. He wasn’t even breathing. I was afraid to feel for a heartbeat.
We carried Alexander to my room and put him, stretcher and all, on the bed. I sat on a chair, but I couldn’t rest. We didn’t have a minute to spare. I looked at Usse and he gazed back at me.
‘Did you tell Nearchus we were coming?’ I whispered.
‘I did. The boat is waiting. We’ll leave as soon as it’s fully dark.’
‘What did he say when you told him Plexis was still alive?’ I asked.
‘He said, “By Hades and Persephone!” and then he blanched. He knew it was you. He said he would do anything you asked if you could save Iskander.’
‘Thank you, Usse. I don’t know if I can ever repay you, but I promise I’ll try.’
‘I know that, but I’ve been repaid. I have been chosen to save my king.’ His handsome face brightened as he smiled, but his dark eyes were still worried.
Suddenly we heard a sound. A piece of ice fell on the floor. Usse and I leapt t
o Alexander’s side. I grabbed Usse’s arm to stay upright. ‘He’s alive,’ I gasped. Shock and relief made my nose bleed, and I started to laugh. I felt unhinged, but Usse sank to his knees next to Alexander’s bed.
‘Can you hear us?’ he asked.
Alexander opened his eyes briefly. His teeth started to chatter and his skin lost its bluish tint. Slowly his cheeks turned pink, then his nose. He tried to speak but couldn’t. Usse bent over him, wiping the melting ice crystals off his neck and chest. Alexander seemed to know us, and I thought he tried to smile. Then he started to shiver violently.
Usse gave him a drink of willow-bark tea and he sipped it, the first thing he had been able to drink in two days. Afterwards Alexander closed his eyes and passed out.
Millis had already carried Plexis to the boat. I shuddered to think what would have happened if anyone caught them. Luckily, everything was chaos that night.
I woke my sleeping boys, and Chirpa helped me get their baggage. We were leaving Babylon like thieves in the night, carrying with us only the barest necessities. The city was plunged into a supernatural darkness. No one had lit the street lamps. Windows were dark. Thunder growled, and sheet lightning flickered through the sky illuminating the huge ziggurat. From the palace came an eerie wailing. My hair stood on end.
When I climbed into the boat, I put the boys into their hammocks and I smoothed Paul’s bright hair off his forehead.
‘Where’s Father?’ he asked.
I smiled tenderly at my son. ‘He’ll be here in a while.’ I said. ‘Hush now, sleep.
Brazza and Millis looked at me fearfully. The goddess was back. I didn’t know what was worse; having everyone think I was the terrible Queen of the Underworld, or if they knew that I wouldn’t be born for another three thousand years.
Usse and Nearchus carried Alexander on board. We settled Alexander as best we could, and then Nearchus pushed the boat out into the current. We were heading south, towards Egypt. We were going to meet Ptolemy Lagos there. I’d had made the decision to trust Alexander’s general. Otherwise, we would never make it out of the city alive.
The reason was Roxanne. She’d given orders to her guards to arrest me as soon as Alexander was dead. When that happened, she planned to accuse me of poisoning the king. My children and I would be burned alive. She’d already commanded her priests to ready our funeral pyre. Lysimachus overheard her plot and had the decency to warn me. It hadn’t lessened the shock. I hadn’t been expecting that.
After the journalist’s body was discovered, panic swept through the kingdom. No one knew what to do. For five days the journalist’s body would lie alone and forgotten on the deathbed while people milled aimlessly through the city like boats cast adrift, empty-eyed and haggard. Finally, Ptolemy would take the body, have it embalmed, and bring it to Egypt. At least, that’s what I had asked him to do, and what I hoped would happen. Alexander’s tomb had never been found, so no one would be able to discover that a modern man – complete with an implanted tradi-scope and modern fillings – had been substituted for the young king.
The casualties would begin piling up soon after Alexander’s funeral. Roxanne would poison Iollas, Alexander’s young cupbearer, and Stateira. Since I had fled, she would accuse Iollas of poisoning Alexander. The unfortunate boy would be burned on the pyre meant for me and my children. And Stateira made the fatal mistake of announcing her pregnancy. Poor doomed Stateira. She had been so happy lately. Of all the women, only she had not taken up mourning, believing until the very last that Alexander would recover.
Sisygambis would die within a week of a broken heart, shutting herself in her room and refusing food or water.
Olympias would kidnap Roxanne and flee to Macedonia to take refuge with Cassander. She counted on Roxanne’s unborn child to claim the crown of Macedonia and Greece. Lysimachus too claimed the crown, and he would fight to get Roxanne back. However, after a decade of civil war, Cassander would assassinate Olympias, Roxanne, and her ten year old son.
Babylon fell. All that remained of Alexander’s kingdom were black robes, treachery, ashes, and murder.
Chapter Fourteen
All night we floated downstream. Nearchus sailed the boat, Usse watched over Alexander, and I tried not to think of the future. I was terrified. What I’d done defied all the rules of the Time Travel Institute. If anyone discovered this, I would be erased along with everyone around me. No one had ever defied the Time Senders and gotten away with it. No one. There had been several attempts, but each time the Institute reacted violently, erasing chunks of time along with the time-traveller. This was one of the first lessons I’d learned. But I’d defied the Institute and saved Alexander. I couldn’t stop shaking.
‘Ashley?’ Plexis spoke from the darkness.
‘What is it?’
‘Is he better?’
‘I don’t know.’
We leaned against each other. His shoulder was warm. The only sounds came from the water rushing past the hull and the wind in the sails. I thought I would sleep, but I didn’t. Hour after hour I sat in the stillness, my eyes unblinking, not seeing anything. Panic about being found out by the Time Senders was making me ill.
Plexis stirred restlessly. ‘I just want to tell you that I’ll never regret coming with you,’ he whispered.
‘I want to say the same thing.’ Usse spoke up then. He reached over and took my cold hand in his warm one.
‘I’m glad too,’ Axiom said. He was sitting by Brazza. The two men were sharing a fragrant pipe. Brazza leaned towards me and touched me gently on the arm. ‘I’m glad,’ he mouthed.
‘And I am glad as well.’ It was Alexander. His eyes were still sunken, his cheeks grey, but his voice was clear and his fever had disappeared.
I looked over his head out the porthole where the dawn was just breaking. A pale rose light drew a shimmering line on the horizon. Waves slapped softly on the hull of the boat. Somewhere, deep inside of me, a tight knot of fear began to relax.
‘Thank the gods,’ I whispered. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not well. I’m having a hard time adjusting to being alive again. I thought I would die. I never felt so sick in my life, even when the arrow pierced my chest. Every bone in my body burned with fever. My head felt as if it would split asunder. I actually wanted to die so the pain would finally end. I thought it would be more merciful.’
‘How do you feel now?’ Usse leaned over him.
‘You both saved me,’ he said, smiling wanly. ‘I remember I tried to talk to you but no words came out. Was it a dream, or did I really turn to ice?’
‘It was real,’ I said. ‘The cold killed the parasite in your blood. You’ll still be weak for a few days, maybe longer. It depends on how seriously you were affected.’
‘Who is lying on my deathbed?’ he asked, utterly lucid now.
‘The man from the Time-Travel Institute. He will be listed as missing in action. His recorder made it back. I don’t think it will change anything. Your interview was a failure anyway.’
‘Oh.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Where are we?’
‘On a boat. Nearchus is taking us to Egypt.’
‘You had everything planned.’ Alexander sounded impressed. ‘Thank you.’ His smile lit up the boat.
I smiled back at him. ‘I’m finished planning now. You’re taking over from now on. That will keep you busy.’
‘And out of trouble.’ He looked out the porthole and I thought he smiled again. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The sun poured through the porthole. It was early morning. Across the silver expanse of water, we could see the tops of the green trees. We were heading towards Africa and the elephants.
That evening we ate dinner up on deck. Alexander lay on a pallet, and Plexis sat next to him holding his hand. I was restless. My waters had broken and I knew I would start labour soon. I kept getting up to walk around the boat. By tomorrow the baby would be born. I was anxious but not worried; I had confidence in Usse.
To take my mind off the pains, Usse started asking everyone what they wanted to do next. Chirpa and Brazza were looking forward to seeing Alexandria. Paul wanted to see the great pyramids. Nearchus had plans to sail to Ethiopia. Usse was interested in discovering new medicines, and Axiom wanted to visit a place called the Holy Mountain. Millis didn’t care as long as he was with us. Plexis said he didn’t care either, although he’d heard about great herds of black and white striped horses nobody could tame. Alexander was still dreaming about wild elephants.
‘And you, what do you want?’ he asked me.
I pointed to my huge belly. ‘I want to have a healthy baby. I want to live in a tent, swim in a river, and hunt crocodiles with you. As long as you don’t sing,’ I added.
Late that night our daughter was born, and we named her Cleopatra. Alexander was infatuated. Brazza washed her in warm wine and smoothed sweet almond oil over her before wrapping her in a soft blanket. Then he handed her to me. I lay back in my bed, exhausted. The birth had been long, but relatively easy. Nothing had torn, my bleeding had stopped, and Usse gave me strong potions to ease the hurt. My new baby was a tiny creature with pink skin and hair like silver frost. When she finished nursing, she fell asleep with a minuscule yawn. Afterwards, Brazza combed my hair and helped me sit up in bed. When I was presentable, I motioned to Usse to let my sons in.
Paul and Chiron crept over and sat next to me. I smiled at them and they grinned back. Plexis knocked timidly and came in; then everyone crowded around to see the new baby. Alexander bent over and kissed me. I tasted the salt of my labour and sweet wine on his lips. I felt light, empty as a husk. It was partly because of the birth, and partly because of relief. Alexander was slowly recovering, and I would feel better soon. The pains of birth were already fading and my emotions would quiet down. I’d forgotten how vulnerable having a baby made me feel. I was thankful for the small boat, for the intimacy of it, and for the comfort of those around me. I held my new baby and slept, and my dreams were as gentle as the rocking of the boat.
Storms over Babylon Page 15
