Alexander chuckled, and then walked nervously in a tight circle around the room. “Your eagerness is intimidating,” he said after completing his miniature circuit. Then he recovered his composure. “You once told me of a special diet women in your country eat if they must have a male baby. Is that true?”
“It never fails. You must eat it too and stop all drinking until I am pregnant. If we both stay on the diet for a month and make love every day, a royal son will result.”
“Then it is settled,” Alexander answered. “I am ready to become a father.”
≈
Roxane’s diet worked. A month after Hephaestion’s death she was pregnant. Pleased with his strong heterosexual performance, Alexander resumed his drinking, but not at the intense, binge level as before. Within days of Roxane’s pregnancy announcement, he started bragging to his Royal Companions about his fatherhood. He was as virile as any of them.
Slowly, the enervating pain of Hephaestion’s death lessened in Alexander. The king found solace in the action that he did best: military conquest. He led his fighters southwest of Ecbatana and encountered mountain tribesmen who had always received exorbitant annuities from the Great King just for passing through their territory.
Alexander’s transferred his grief into violent, aggressive action against the tribesmen: in just five weeks, they were eliminated. The king knew that the tribesmen’s ancestors would never again get tribute for an army to pass through their territory. That knowledge gave him great pleasure.
Alexander’s last actions in Ecbatana found him ordering an expedition north to the Caspian Sea. He ordered his officers to investigate the quality of the local forests there and determine if the trees could be used for shipbuilding. The next stage of the king’s conquests would involve more than land armies. Stout, Greek fighting and transport ships would become necessary in the years ahead.
At last, pleased that initial plans for invasions of North Africa and Carthage, Italy, and Spain were in place, the king and his army prepared for departure from Ecbatana. Before leaving, he visited the memorial site of Hephaestion. Local sculptors were in the initial stages of revealing a lion that lay hidden inside a huge block of granite.
“Good-bye, old friend,” he said reverentially to the incomplete lion. “We came a long way from Mieza to here. After North Africa and Europe, I will return to see your completed lion. I drew the image for the sculptors myself. I know that you will be pleased when you look down on it from your spirit world. I will see you there when we meet again. Perhaps we will conquer that place too.” He smiled at the thoughts of that victory, then tucked it away for another day, perhaps one filled with drink and loneliness.”
Alexander then mounted his horse and rode southwest with his Royal Companions toward Babylon. It would be good to see the city again after seven years. He would make it the most beautiful city the world had ever seen, worthy of Alexander’s capitol.
Riding amid a cloud of dust, he was pensive but satisfied. The rest of his life lay ahead of him. His spiritual father continued to protect him. Things would be better before long.
CHAPTER 24
BABYLON
Alexander and his army neared Babylon and encountered a group of Chaldaean astrologers just after they crossed the Tigris River. The priests, earthly representatives of the Persian god, Bel-Marduk, had left their temple complex to meet Alexander before he entered his new capitol.
“We beg you, Great King,” their chief priest said, speaking in near perfect Greek. “Our god issued a clear warning; the signs are unmistakable. You must not enter Babylon through the eastern gate, the Gate of Bel. It will be fatal for you if you do. Entering through the Gate of Bel means you would be facing the setting sun. You and your army must enter the city from the west, marching through the Royal Gate. It is imperative that your army march facing the rising sun.”
The priests had left the Esagila early that morning. That religious complex, thousands of years old, was in the center of Babylon. Just north of the Esagila was the Foundation of Heaven on Earth. This ziggurat was later called the Tower of Babel in a holy book of the Jews.
Alexander rubbed his eyes and frowned. This is just what I need. Another group of priests telling me what I can and cannot do. Yet, he could not dismiss their warnings, for the Chaldaeans were famous for the accuracy of their predictions. When he was in Babylon seven years ago, he had examined their archival record of Persian events and predictions. Their Astronomical Diary recorded realized-prophesies that went back over thirty-three-hundred years. Alexander could not ignore them.
Alexander issued orders that stopped his army’s march.
“I can’t bring the army in from the east,” the king said to Bel-Marduk’s chief priest. “My scouts already warned me that the approach is unsuitable for a force as great as ours.
He walked away from the Chaldaeans, irritated, and shouted an order to a Royal Bodyguard. “Get me Anaxarchus. I want a Greek interpretation of this.”
Anaxarchus soon arrived, and he listened to Alexander’s explanation of the Chaldaeans’ warning. “Do you have another entry choice, considering your huge army?” he asked.
“Entry from the west would be difficult, perhaps impossible,” Alexander answered. “The swamps and marshes there are extensive; the terrain is difficult. I won’t have our fighters entering Babylon covered in mud.”
“Then ignore their superstitious prattle,” Anaxarchus told him. “Enter from the east. Facing the sun doesn’t have anything to do with your greatness.”
Alexander, still troubled, finally made up his mind. This Persian superstition was too much. He issued orders for the army to enter Babylon through the Gate of Bel, facing the setting sun.
Walking away from Anaxarchus, he turned to him and said, “Prophets are best who make the truest guess.” Then he left to ride to the head of his massive forces. The matter was resolved.
≈
At a supreme leadership council meeting in Babylon’s royal palace, Alexander met with his top officers and Royal Bodyguards. His army’s entry into Babylon had been uneventful. It was now time for long-term plans.
“Hephaestion’s funeral arrangements are my first priority,” he said with a mournful look on his face. “His pyre alone will cost 10,000 talents. His funeral will reduce my royal treasury by five times that amount. Nevertheless, I promised his dead body that I would honor him as no man has ever been honored. All funeral events will take place in the northeast quarter of the city. Even the nervous Chaldaeans agree that the site is propitious.
“Perdiccas, you are in charge of the final arrangements. The Siwah priests won’t allow his deification. However, they indicated that Hephaestion could be worshiped as a hero. Build his revered status into the funeral ceremony.”
“I will,” Perdiccas answered tersely.
“Enough of the sad past, then,” Alexander said. “I must start meeting with the delegations that are waiting. Each insists on seeing me personally. It wasn’t this way the first time we were in Babylon. Eumenes tells me that envoys are here from the Corinthian League, Carthage, Libya, Southern Italy, and Rome. Even Iberians and Celts are here. I’ll have to learn a new set of maps just to deal with their issues.”
≈
Alexander spent the next days in tedious meetings with the lackeys that called themselves national leaders and diplomats. They honored him with their gifts and obsequious remarks, but he was bored with their self-serving praise and requests. At last, he could stand no more and ordered Perdiccas to meet with them and commit to nothing. His pothos-driven wanderlust was rising and he was intent on additional conquest. It was the reason that Zeus-Ammon had given him life.
≈
“All right,” Alexander said. “Here is our priority list, from most important to the least important.” The king stated each objective forcefully, as if emphasizing its order would increase the likelihood of it happening.
“One: Nearchus will leave soon with our new ships to reconnoiter Arabi
a and Africa. If his reports back are positive, I will join him to circumnavigate the continent and find where the unknown western sea opens into the Mediterranean. That is supposed to be at the Pillars of Hercules. We will then sail east and meet our main army after it completes a road across Northern Africa. Our combined naval and land forces will then take Libya and Carthage.
“Two: After Libya and Carthage fall, we will sail to Spain and create outposts there. This campaign will be exploratory, until we find what forces are there to oppose us.
“Three: I will then sail to Epirus, the land of my mother’s birth. I’m eager to see her again. I must see the great temple at Dodona again.”
“Four: We will give thanks to the gods in appreciation for our successes. I want seven new temples built: three in Greece, three in Macedonia, and one magnificent one to Athena at Troy. Each will become one of the world’s greatest wonders.
“Five: If an enemy arrow hasn’t killed me by then, I will return to Aegae and construct a pyramid for Philip that is greater than Cheops’ Giza monument. I have surpassed Philip, but he made all of this possible.”
“Does anyone have any questions?”
His men knew only vaguely the scope of their king’s dreams but having him state them all at once was staggering to each officer.
Finally, Ptolemy spoke up. “Let me lead the army across Northern Africa,” he asked. “I understand Egypt and speak their language. It will aid the road construction and pacification effort.”
Alexander looked at his half-brother and smiled. “I agree,” he said. “I think you covet Egypt, Ptolemy. I may make you my satrap there when everything is done. Would you like that?”
“I would,” Ptolemy answered honestly. “However, I exist now only to serve you, Alexander.”
Alexander glared at Ptolemy, then stood up. He pointed to the door, signaling that the meeting was over. “There is a departure party for Nearchus in a few days,” he shouted to the exiting officers. “I want all of you there. It will symbolize our solidarity and launch our new conquests.”
Our glory continues!”
≈
“You are more beautiful now than when you were not with child,” Alexander said to Roxane. His wife was eight months pregnant and Alexander saw a warm glow of expectant motherhood that radiated from her. “I give you my word; I will be a good father to the son that you are growing inside you,” he said with pride.
Roxane could only understand half of what Alexander said without a translator present but decided to surprise her husband. “Words are nice ...” Roxane answered. It was her first attempt at speaking a little, halting Greek. “Pregnancy were easy; it won’t be long time.”
Alexander, pleased with his wife’s attempt to speak his language, walked closer, and raised Roxane’s blouse so that her bare, protruding stomach was open to his touch. Then he began to stroke the skin covering his unborn baby.
“Oh!” he said, startled. “He moved! Does he know the king is here?”
Roxane smiled and walked to the doorway, summoning her Balkh translator. She had uttered as much Greek as she knew. When the translator entered the room, she motioned for Alexander to repeat his last question for translation. Then she answered her husband.
“He moves nearly all of the time. He will have as much energy as you do. You will be proud to give him your empire when you grow old.”
Grow old? Alexander thought. He had never considered the idea. It was a novel notion. “I have much to do before that. Know that I love you more than before, Roxane. I am so proud of you and my son.”
“Come, walk with me in the Royal Gardens. I’m going duck hunting in the swamp tomorrow. Then, we will honor Nearchus with a banquet. I may not be able to see you again before we depart for Africa.”
Roxane put her head on Alexander’s shoulder and they entered the gardens of Babylon. It was a tranquil time and the two held hands as they strolled into a mellow, early-summer evening. They heard the Esagila temple priests in the distance calling worshipers to their evening prayers. Both sensed that their lives were at a crossroads.
Persian gardens had brought out these emotions in people for centuries. The gardens continued to provide a much-needed refuge from life’s uncertain ways.
Two adults and an unborn child slowly disappeared into the evening mist, absorbing peace and serenity from the special place.
≈
“His weakness is wine,” Perdiccas said. “It has always been so.” One of Alexander’s greatest commanders, Perdiccas, did not look at the other plotters. It was only his relegation to a lower status in the king’s command structure that had brought him to this meeting.
“Yes, but it won’t be as easy as it was with Hephaestion,” Iolaus cautioned. “His lightning mind would detect the slight-of-hand that I used on his beloved. He seems suspicious of me. As never before, he watches me drink his wine before he drinks after me. I can no longer fake it.”
Cassander spoke up and provided the answer the plotters needed. “Someone else must administer the liquid, someone he trusts. Aristotle told me that Alexander must get multiple doses, over a long time. It would work better if he were tired, ill, or coming off several days of binging. It must be done in this manner.”
Medius, the secret lover of Iolaus, finally spoke. “I’m in the king’s favor now. He and I have had many drinking bouts. If I’m careful about the timing, I might have an opportunity.”
“Then you will be the agent of his demise, Medius,” Cassander said. “I would do it, but I can’t get near him, not after the incident when I laughed out loud at that Persian giving him proskynesis. The king leaped off his throne and beat my head against the wall. I should have killed him then and there.”
Perdiccas had seen the event. At the time, he was surprised that Alexander had not ordered one of his guards to kill Cassander. “He is going duck hunting in the swamp tomorrow,” Perdiccas offered. “He never drinks wine during hunts. He feels it deadens his aim with the bow. It will have to be done after that.”
“We’ll wait our time during and after Nearchus’ party,” Iolaus said. “Each of us will have a small vial of the liquid. Tighten the cork, then put it inside your buttocks in case he has us searched. A little shit on the vial will be the least of his problems!”
Each plotter smiled an uneasy smile. They were committed. Everyone knew that everything in the Greek and Mediterranean world would soon change.
“May the gods and future generations understand why we had to act,” Perdiccas said as he stood up to leave. “Pray to whatever deity that you believe in that we do not turn out as Alexander did. It occurs to me that we may just be scripted actors in the second act of a very long play by Euripides.” The senior general paused to let the insightful comment sink in.
“I killed Philip’s assassin at the theatre in Pella,” Perdiccas continued. “It seemed to make perfect sense then. I’m older now. Somehow, everything is less logical.”
“I’ll support each of you when this is over,” he offered. “But you are never to speak to anyone about what we are about to do. If anyone speaks or writes of our actions, I will eliminate him. Does everyone understand that?”
Each plotter stared at Perdiccas and knew that he meant his stern words. To a man, each nodded his head and the secret meeting broke up.
That night, Perdiccas prayed to Dionysus that the god’s inebriating power would be strong enough to help bring down the greatest man who ever lived.
CHAPTER 25
DIONYSUS’ EMPTY MASK
“Is your fever so high that we must cancel the banquet for Nearchus?” Eumenes asked Alexander.
“I don’t think so,” Alexander answered feebly. “I feel flushed around my face and neck, but that is common when I’m ill, especially after a night of drinking.”
“A Persian told me that they call the condition swamp fever,” Eumenes said. “You were in the marshes all day yesterday. Something there probably caused your fever. It is supposed to last three to fiv
e days, most sufferers have recurring, high-fever episodes at about the same time each day.”
“I’ve heard the same story,” Alexander said. “A Chaldaean priest told me that it comes from mosquito bites. We were in a swarm most of the morning. I’m covered with bites. I can’t stop scratching them.”
“Tell me what to do about the banquet,” Eumenes asked a second time.
“Continue with the plans,” Alexander answered irritably. “I won’t send Nearchus to explore Africa without honoring him. I may never see him again.”
Alexander dismissed his secretary and went to the Royal Baths. His chamberlain had prepared a steaming oil and myrrh bath that was supposed to help heal his bites. Afterwards, he planned to sleep until the banquet. A celebratory night of drinking with his most intimate friends was all that he needed to get well.
≈
Twenty of the king’s closest friends attended Nearchus’ farewell banquet. Included were Ptolemy, Eumenes, Perdiccas, Iolaus, Peucestas, Medius, Philip (Alexander’s personal physician), Philip (the king’s royal engineer) and twelve others.
Slaves served wine with the first eating course. More than once, Iolaus tried to serve wine to his king. However, Alexander rebuffed him each time. The king had selected a new wine taster.
Alexander spent the first part of the evening reclining next to his newest court favorite, Medius. Amid meaningless gossip and Alexander’s bragging about past military feats, Medius continued to pour Alexander kantharos after kantharos of the mind-destroying gift of Dionysus.
Well after the midnight watch changed, Alexander left the main banquet and led a small group of his friends to Medius’ quarters. A new table of food awaited them and another round of drinking ensued. When everyone had reclined on their couches, the king rose to propose the night’s fifth toast. “To the hero of the day, Nearchus,” he said with mumbled speech. “Greeks will learn more about Auh ... Arabia and Africa in the coming months than we have known in the last thou ... thousand years. If he doesn’t fall off the edge of the world, his explorations will open new vis... vistas for all civilized peoples. To Nearchus!”
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