Fic: Worthy of Your Soul 3/WIP
Title: Worthy of Your Soul (3/WIP)
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Hephaistion is asked by Philip to spy on Alexander and finds himself between a rock and a hard place.
Copyright: © Trust No One March 2006
Beta by: My one and only best-est tinuvielas
Three
Winter chill blotted out the warmth of the sunlight, and frigid wind pierced right through their travelling cloaks, but Hephaistion was beyond caring. He was glad of the momentary freedom, glad that whatever punishment Philip had had in mind had been postponed by Alexander’s gods' sent arrival. He had given a small sacrifice to Apollo before leaving Pella, thanking the god for the prince's chance intervention, and had raised a fervent prayer for Alexander never to find out the woes that plagued him. Whatever freedom he still had and however short-lived it was going to be, he would relish every moment of it. And by the looks of it, he was not the only one enjoying his freedom.
‘I’m glad to be going back to Mieza. The air in Pella has become somehow stifling,’ Alexander breathed in relief as soon as they left the confines of the palace.
He looked like he’d had only a little more sleep than Hephaistion, bruise-like shadows under his eyes. And yet in Hephaistion’s eyes the prince had never looked more fiery or beautiful than now, in the pallid sunlight, wrapped in his old threadbare cloak, with cheeks blistering red from the cold and lips chafed from the wind. Hephaistion felt warmed by his presence alone. Alexander trained a smile on Hephaistion, the kind of smile that made the young man’s insides turn to fire. The kind of smile that most of the other boys would have killed to have directed at them. It seemed that in that moment, to Alexander, no one but Hephaistion existed in the whole world. If the past two days had not happened at all, Hephaistion would have been the happiest youth in the world, for that smile held so much affection and abandon that little doubt was left as to the sentiment that caused it.
Why did Philip let me go? Hephaistion thought and he cursed himself for allowing Philip’s menace to intrude in that moment. His face must have given something away, because Alexander remarked, ‘You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?’
Hephaistion schooled his features into a smile and inhaled the crisp air deeply into his lungs, as if he’d been breathing nothing but fumes for the better part of his life. He shrugged and shook his head, almost dismissively. ‘Nothing, I’m just cold.’ Alexander had to be made to believe that nothing was wrong.
‘And besides, you look terrible,’ Alexander added, giving Hephaistion an oblong glance, clearly not fooled. ‘I bet these no-good comrades of mine have been dragging you through every tavern in the city last night?’ He gave Ptolemy a half-amused look in response to which the older boy shrugged innocently.
‘Or was it talking to my father that did you in?’ Alexander said casually. ‘What did you speak about?’
Hephaistion shivered, nausea creeping into the pit of his stomach. He loathed having to lie to Alexander. He looked about him, measuring the distance between themselves and the other companions, then replied in a low voice, meant for Alexander’s ears only.
‘He asked about Mieza, about our studies….’ He hesitated, biting his lip. ‘But mostly, we talked about my father.’
‘I see,’ Alexander gritted his jaw, nodding softly. The subject of Hephaistion’s father, only recently dead, was a delicate one and Hephaistion knew that it was the only way that Alexander would not press him for details, especially not in the presence of the others.
‘There’s much I need to tell you,’ Alexander leaned across, his head coming closer to Hephaistion’s, ‘ride ahead with me.’ He motioned his head in the general direction of the road and Hephaistion understood the prince’s need for more private surroundings. They heeled their horses a little ahead of the others who kept behind them at a respectful, albeit grudging, distance.
‘Things are worse than before, between mother and father,’ Alexander explained, his voice tinged with regret. ‘On the surface it seems almost like they have struck a truce of sorts, staying out of each other’s way, each with their own plans, but in fact each of them is growing more suspicious of the other. I’ve talked to both of them, but still they won’t listen. A few months away and this is what happens.’
Typically, Hephaistion observed grimly, Alexander made himself responsible for the new strain between his parents.
‘Your mother certainly misses you now that you’re at Mieza,’ Hephaistion offered, intent on shifting the subject away from Alexander’s feeling of guilt, ‘so in a way it’s understandable that she has more time to devote to sifting through court gossip and drawing conclusions.’
‘Not all of it is gossip,’ Alexander returned rather sharply. ‘She told me things that father has not even bothered to deny when I went to see him.’
Hephaistion said nothing, not wishing to interrupt Alexander’s train of thought and his retelling of what had transpired. He knew that it was usually better to let Alexander come out with whatever he had on his mind in his own time. When he was ready, Alexander would ask for an opinion.
‘She told me that some of the nobles are pressing father to marry again, this time with a Macedonian. This morning, after you left, father told me that eventually he might have to do that, if only to appease his subjects and prevent certain factions from forming within the court.’
It certainly wouldn't be hard to persuade Philip to take a new wife, Hephaistion mused. He wondered for a moment if what Philip had said to his son was sugar-coated for the prince’s sensitive ears. Hephaistion might have been young, but he’d learned early on that naivety was not a quality and that cynicism paid off much better. The idealistic Alexander lived in too high a sphere, something which Hephaistion hoped that he would be able to continue doing. Becoming cynical and worldly would mean somewhat tarnishing the ideals Alexander held so dear.
‘And how does your mother feel about this?’ Hephaistion’s curiosity got the better of him. Almost instantly, he wanted to eat his words; he had to stop himself from asking too many questions. He had decided that the less he knew, the less information he would be able to share.
Alexander tightened his jaw. ‘She said that Philip’s bark was worse than his bite, but that she believed in being prepared for every eventuality. She said that no-one was going to endanger my succession to the throne if she had anything to do with it. Then she said nothing more about the matter, and that worried me.’
Everyone knew that Olympias in a fury was akin to an army of Chimeras, but fury was yet preferable to a woman quiet, watchful and most likely twice as deadly.
‘Father said he would postpone a decision until he came back from the Illyrian campaign. I requested to go with him, but he would not allow it. He said that I should stay at Mieza with the other boys and learn for now, that the time for fighting would find us before we went out in search for it. I thought about it and perhaps he’s right,’ Alexander continued. ‘This is our only chance to learn things that we will never again have time for. So I try to be patient.’ Alexander turned a wistful eye on Hephaistion, ‘What are you thinking?’
Hephaistion reined in his horse briskly, just to avoid meeting Alexander’s eyes. He hoped that Alexander never had to discover how utterly torn he felt at that moment.
‘I used to wish the time at Mieza away and that we’d get to go out into battle already,’ he replied honestly, ‘but lately I’ve found myself wishing that this time were somehow preserved and prolonged, if possible, even just a little longer.’
‘What changed your mind? You couldn’t wait to get out there in the world and see some action?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hephaistion shrugged, dreading that Alexander was beginning to see through his shiftiness. ‘I’m getting soft like a woman,’ he said dismissively.
The wind chapped at Alexander’s lips anew, making them crack further. Hephaistion fought down the urgency to lean across and lick them. He was never reckless in others’ company, and such a move would arouse Alexander’s suspicions.
By the time they rode into the Mieza grounds Hephaistion knew everything that Alexander had discussed with both his father and mother. Strangely removed from the reality of his precarious situation, Hephaistion thought of how Philip would have liked the bits of information that Alexander had just shared.
The first sight of Mieza was like a welcome home after a long and arduous journey. It almost felt like Hephaistion had returned to a place where time was meaningless still and youth endured forever, every tree and blade of frozen grass cherished. The old lime tree in whose shade Aristotle had often taught his lessons last summer rose bare, branches reaching clawlike upwards to the grey sky, but Hephaistion loved it nonetheless. He took in the desolate landscape and wondered if he had brought death back with him.
But soon it became apparent that something else entirely had accompanied him, and that was a hushed resignation that had no place in a lad of fifteen summers. It was Aristotle who spoke of it barely a few days after they returned, calling Hephaistion into his office for a private audience.
‘I’ve caught your attention wandering far too often for this to be something passing. I watched you these past few days and you don’t really seem to be here. I think something has touched your soul and left a mark, and I’ve been wondering what it is,’ the philosopher told him straight away. He motioned for Hephaistion to sit, but the young man shook his head. He did not want to get too comfortable since he didn’t intend to stay long. He’d always thought that Aristotle ((required more patience to tolerate his presence than that of the other boys’, who, perhaps because they were older and more experienced, always had cleverer and more interesting things to say. Usually, Hephaistion behaved carefully polite and conspicuously silent around Aristotle learning more by listening than by joining in the others’ debates.
Now Hephaistion swallowed dryly. ‘I’m sorry. I will see to it that it does not happen again.’ He shifted on one foot, as if he was trying to make a move to leave, but stopped when he noticed that Aristotle was not finished. He did not wish to be rude so he remained rooted to the spot.
Aristotle shook his head, and Hephaistion, a little disbelievingly, read concern in the teacher’s smallish, alert eyes.
‘Your lack of attention is not what I meant. Whatever it is that’s eating at you is not good kept inside. Talking about it might help.’
It was Hephaistion’s turn to shake his head. ‘I doubt it,’ he said dejectedly. He knew that to deny his feelings would insult the philosopher’s intelligence. At once, a surge of misery spread through his limbs and he found himself forced to sit down on the chair that Aristotle had offered earlier. He felt a wave of shakes coming on, but he was not going to show weakness, he vowed.
‘Is this about Alexander?’ Aristotle’s bluntness caught Hephaistion unprepared. He had speeches prepared for Olympias and Philip, in front of whom, as it had turned out, he had never had the opportunity to defend his relationship with Alexander. He had choice words to brush off the teasing of the other boys. But he had never thought about what he might tell Aristotle. Misery gave way to recklessness.
‘It is and it isn’t,’ he replied grimly.
In the next second, Hephaistion was horrified at his admission, although part of him realized that it hardly mattered how Aristotle judged him, now that his existence was doomed anyway. Still, he drew a sharp breath and pressed his lips together.
‘I’m not a fool, Hephaistion,’ Aristotle said softly. ‘Just because I don’t say anything, it doesn’t mean that I don’t see.’
‘Fair enough,’ Hephaistion admitted, lowering his eyes. He didn’t feel strong enough to be defiant if a lecture came. The realization struck him without even bringing anger along with it.
‘I never thought I’d say this, especially with all I’ve taught you, but you two… you are above the flesh,’ Aristotle went on.
Hephaistion raised his eyes, unsure of Aristotle’s meaning and ready to protest, although not knowing how, but Aristotle resumed quickly. ‘Oh, I know you’ll get there eventually, like indeed you must, to come full circle, but what I’ve seen growing between you in these past months is indeed a bond so pure as I had come to believe existed only in legend. Your souls seem to do more than merely speak to each other: they shelter and inspire one another. It is a rare thing indeed and, for Alexander’s sake, as well as yours, I hope you can hold onto this remarkable bond.’
‘I don’t know how… especially now,’ Hephaistion found himself whispering, and for the second time in a short time, he was dumbfounded at his openness. And then he could not stop himself. The words flooded out in a surge of furious confession. He told Aristotle everything, from Philip’s proposal to spy on the prince, to the lie he had been forced to live in front of Alexander for the past days, to the burden of knowledge crushing him, sharing his grief with the teacher as if he was a stranger in a tavern. He only withheld one thing: what Philip had said about Alexander casting him away once he’d tire of him. That, Hephaistion understood, was his burden alone, to be carried in silence and solitude.
‘I’m sorry this happened to you, my boy,’ Aristotle said softly after a while, his eyes bearing proof of the sadness he felt. ‘You’ve had a very tough choice to make for one so young.’
‘It wasn’t really a choice,’ Hephaistion whispered with a sad smile. ‘I never really considered accepting Philip’s offer.’
‘And now? Do you regret your decision? Do you wish you had agreed, if only not to be parted from Alexander?’
‘How could I?’ Hephaistion cried indignantly. ‘I’d never go back on my word. What kind of a man do you think I am?’
‘I wasn’t asking about your word,’ Aristotle countered gently, ‘I was asking about your heart.’
Hephaistion ran his fingers absently through his hair, his gaze unfocused. ‘My heart…’ he said bitterly, ‘I hate the fact that I might be separated from Alexander. And I wish that it would be possible to stay with him always, at any cost. But betrayal is too high a price for a happy heart.’
‘I doubt it that Philip has not seen that,’ Aristotle reasoned. ‘He would after all gain nothing from removing you from Alexander’s side.’
‘And yet by getting rid of me, there will be room for another to replace me in Alexander's favour. Another who would not shy away from doing their duty for their king.’
‘Your thinking is not flawed, but you forget one thing: Philip is Alexander’s father, and in spite of his… shortcomings, he still wants to protect his son. Whether from love or from an instinct to preserve his kin, it does not matter. If he sees his son surrounded by loyal subjects, it should only bring him joy.’
‘Loyal subjects indeed,’ Hephaistion retorted, ‘but loyal to whom? My loyalty to Alexander is at odds with my loyalty to his father, who intends to make use of it. Philip may think this isn't a big thing, but surely Alexander would think differently if he knew. It would bring enmity between him and his father.’
‘Alexander will see a change in you, if he hasn’t already. You must be prepared for his questions, when they come.’
‘All I ever wanted was to be able to stand by Alexander’s side, be it in battle or in times of peace,’ Hephaistion spat, his bitterness unconcealed and almost physical in its intensity. ‘Now, no matter what happens, I’m doomed either way: if Philip gets no word from me, sooner or later I will be removed form Mieza. I can't tell Alexander, but if he finds out that I kept this from him deliberately, he will never trust me again.’
‘And yet you can do nothing else but sit and wait,’ Aristotle stated softly, as if talking to a child who had to understand why he was being punished for something he didn’t realize was wrong. ‘It would not be advisable to try to feed Philip useless information. The king is not a fool.’
Hephaistion looked up sharply, as if stunned that his thoughts had been that apparent. The thought of giving Philip worthless bits of news had crossed his mind more than once. He had almost managed to convince himself that it would work. And now, Aristotle had crushed his hope in one sentence showing him how deluded he’d been to think that he could get away with deceiving Philip.
‘I know,’ Hephaistion breathed and the weight of his burden bore down on him once more. It dug lines in his face and shadows under his eyes that had no place in his young countenance.
‘Either way, sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help either,’ Aristotle resumed. Hephaistion looked ready to protest his self-pity but in the end he controlled the urge, knowing full well that Aristotle did not mean it in a derisive way.
‘So how about trying to shake this defeated mood off?’ Aristotle looked Hephaistion dead in the eye, and in the watery depths of the philosopher’s gaze Hephaistion saw understanding and compassion.
‘Live your life like it could end tomorrow, Hephaistion. And if it doesn’t, be all the more grateful for it.’
The wind wafted through the open window with a promise of an early spring as Aristotle’s words flowed. Crouched like a cat outside the teacher’s window, Cassander sat motionless, hardly daring to breathe. He had not missed a word of the conversation. In a moment of unblemished victory, he congratulated himself on his idea of following Hephaistion. If he had not been alone, he would most likely have been told to wipe the sheer delight off his face.
TBC
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Hephaistion is asked by Philip to spy on Alexander and finds himself between a rock and a hard place.
Copyright: © Trust No One March 2006
Beta by: My one and only best-est tinuvielas
Three
Winter chill blotted out the warmth of the sunlight, and frigid wind pierced right through their travelling cloaks, but Hephaistion was beyond caring. He was glad of the momentary freedom, glad that whatever punishment Philip had had in mind had been postponed by Alexander’s gods' sent arrival. He had given a small sacrifice to Apollo before leaving Pella, thanking the god for the prince's chance intervention, and had raised a fervent prayer for Alexander never to find out the woes that plagued him. Whatever freedom he still had and however short-lived it was going to be, he would relish every moment of it. And by the looks of it, he was not the only one enjoying his freedom.
‘I’m glad to be going back to Mieza. The air in Pella has become somehow stifling,’ Alexander breathed in relief as soon as they left the confines of the palace.
He looked like he’d had only a little more sleep than Hephaistion, bruise-like shadows under his eyes. And yet in Hephaistion’s eyes the prince had never looked more fiery or beautiful than now, in the pallid sunlight, wrapped in his old threadbare cloak, with cheeks blistering red from the cold and lips chafed from the wind. Hephaistion felt warmed by his presence alone. Alexander trained a smile on Hephaistion, the kind of smile that made the young man’s insides turn to fire. The kind of smile that most of the other boys would have killed to have directed at them. It seemed that in that moment, to Alexander, no one but Hephaistion existed in the whole world. If the past two days had not happened at all, Hephaistion would have been the happiest youth in the world, for that smile held so much affection and abandon that little doubt was left as to the sentiment that caused it.
Why did Philip let me go? Hephaistion thought and he cursed himself for allowing Philip’s menace to intrude in that moment. His face must have given something away, because Alexander remarked, ‘You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?’
Hephaistion schooled his features into a smile and inhaled the crisp air deeply into his lungs, as if he’d been breathing nothing but fumes for the better part of his life. He shrugged and shook his head, almost dismissively. ‘Nothing, I’m just cold.’ Alexander had to be made to believe that nothing was wrong.
‘And besides, you look terrible,’ Alexander added, giving Hephaistion an oblong glance, clearly not fooled. ‘I bet these no-good comrades of mine have been dragging you through every tavern in the city last night?’ He gave Ptolemy a half-amused look in response to which the older boy shrugged innocently.
‘Or was it talking to my father that did you in?’ Alexander said casually. ‘What did you speak about?’
Hephaistion shivered, nausea creeping into the pit of his stomach. He loathed having to lie to Alexander. He looked about him, measuring the distance between themselves and the other companions, then replied in a low voice, meant for Alexander’s ears only.
‘He asked about Mieza, about our studies….’ He hesitated, biting his lip. ‘But mostly, we talked about my father.’
‘I see,’ Alexander gritted his jaw, nodding softly. The subject of Hephaistion’s father, only recently dead, was a delicate one and Hephaistion knew that it was the only way that Alexander would not press him for details, especially not in the presence of the others.
‘There’s much I need to tell you,’ Alexander leaned across, his head coming closer to Hephaistion’s, ‘ride ahead with me.’ He motioned his head in the general direction of the road and Hephaistion understood the prince’s need for more private surroundings. They heeled their horses a little ahead of the others who kept behind them at a respectful, albeit grudging, distance.
‘Things are worse than before, between mother and father,’ Alexander explained, his voice tinged with regret. ‘On the surface it seems almost like they have struck a truce of sorts, staying out of each other’s way, each with their own plans, but in fact each of them is growing more suspicious of the other. I’ve talked to both of them, but still they won’t listen. A few months away and this is what happens.’
Typically, Hephaistion observed grimly, Alexander made himself responsible for the new strain between his parents.
‘Your mother certainly misses you now that you’re at Mieza,’ Hephaistion offered, intent on shifting the subject away from Alexander’s feeling of guilt, ‘so in a way it’s understandable that she has more time to devote to sifting through court gossip and drawing conclusions.’
‘Not all of it is gossip,’ Alexander returned rather sharply. ‘She told me things that father has not even bothered to deny when I went to see him.’
Hephaistion said nothing, not wishing to interrupt Alexander’s train of thought and his retelling of what had transpired. He knew that it was usually better to let Alexander come out with whatever he had on his mind in his own time. When he was ready, Alexander would ask for an opinion.
‘She told me that some of the nobles are pressing father to marry again, this time with a Macedonian. This morning, after you left, father told me that eventually he might have to do that, if only to appease his subjects and prevent certain factions from forming within the court.’
It certainly wouldn't be hard to persuade Philip to take a new wife, Hephaistion mused. He wondered for a moment if what Philip had said to his son was sugar-coated for the prince’s sensitive ears. Hephaistion might have been young, but he’d learned early on that naivety was not a quality and that cynicism paid off much better. The idealistic Alexander lived in too high a sphere, something which Hephaistion hoped that he would be able to continue doing. Becoming cynical and worldly would mean somewhat tarnishing the ideals Alexander held so dear.
‘And how does your mother feel about this?’ Hephaistion’s curiosity got the better of him. Almost instantly, he wanted to eat his words; he had to stop himself from asking too many questions. He had decided that the less he knew, the less information he would be able to share.
Alexander tightened his jaw. ‘She said that Philip’s bark was worse than his bite, but that she believed in being prepared for every eventuality. She said that no-one was going to endanger my succession to the throne if she had anything to do with it. Then she said nothing more about the matter, and that worried me.’
Everyone knew that Olympias in a fury was akin to an army of Chimeras, but fury was yet preferable to a woman quiet, watchful and most likely twice as deadly.
‘Father said he would postpone a decision until he came back from the Illyrian campaign. I requested to go with him, but he would not allow it. He said that I should stay at Mieza with the other boys and learn for now, that the time for fighting would find us before we went out in search for it. I thought about it and perhaps he’s right,’ Alexander continued. ‘This is our only chance to learn things that we will never again have time for. So I try to be patient.’ Alexander turned a wistful eye on Hephaistion, ‘What are you thinking?’
Hephaistion reined in his horse briskly, just to avoid meeting Alexander’s eyes. He hoped that Alexander never had to discover how utterly torn he felt at that moment.
‘I used to wish the time at Mieza away and that we’d get to go out into battle already,’ he replied honestly, ‘but lately I’ve found myself wishing that this time were somehow preserved and prolonged, if possible, even just a little longer.’
‘What changed your mind? You couldn’t wait to get out there in the world and see some action?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hephaistion shrugged, dreading that Alexander was beginning to see through his shiftiness. ‘I’m getting soft like a woman,’ he said dismissively.
The wind chapped at Alexander’s lips anew, making them crack further. Hephaistion fought down the urgency to lean across and lick them. He was never reckless in others’ company, and such a move would arouse Alexander’s suspicions.
By the time they rode into the Mieza grounds Hephaistion knew everything that Alexander had discussed with both his father and mother. Strangely removed from the reality of his precarious situation, Hephaistion thought of how Philip would have liked the bits of information that Alexander had just shared.
The first sight of Mieza was like a welcome home after a long and arduous journey. It almost felt like Hephaistion had returned to a place where time was meaningless still and youth endured forever, every tree and blade of frozen grass cherished. The old lime tree in whose shade Aristotle had often taught his lessons last summer rose bare, branches reaching clawlike upwards to the grey sky, but Hephaistion loved it nonetheless. He took in the desolate landscape and wondered if he had brought death back with him.
But soon it became apparent that something else entirely had accompanied him, and that was a hushed resignation that had no place in a lad of fifteen summers. It was Aristotle who spoke of it barely a few days after they returned, calling Hephaistion into his office for a private audience.
‘I’ve caught your attention wandering far too often for this to be something passing. I watched you these past few days and you don’t really seem to be here. I think something has touched your soul and left a mark, and I’ve been wondering what it is,’ the philosopher told him straight away. He motioned for Hephaistion to sit, but the young man shook his head. He did not want to get too comfortable since he didn’t intend to stay long. He’d always thought that Aristotle ((required more patience to tolerate his presence than that of the other boys’, who, perhaps because they were older and more experienced, always had cleverer and more interesting things to say. Usually, Hephaistion behaved carefully polite and conspicuously silent around Aristotle learning more by listening than by joining in the others’ debates.
Now Hephaistion swallowed dryly. ‘I’m sorry. I will see to it that it does not happen again.’ He shifted on one foot, as if he was trying to make a move to leave, but stopped when he noticed that Aristotle was not finished. He did not wish to be rude so he remained rooted to the spot.
Aristotle shook his head, and Hephaistion, a little disbelievingly, read concern in the teacher’s smallish, alert eyes.
‘Your lack of attention is not what I meant. Whatever it is that’s eating at you is not good kept inside. Talking about it might help.’
It was Hephaistion’s turn to shake his head. ‘I doubt it,’ he said dejectedly. He knew that to deny his feelings would insult the philosopher’s intelligence. At once, a surge of misery spread through his limbs and he found himself forced to sit down on the chair that Aristotle had offered earlier. He felt a wave of shakes coming on, but he was not going to show weakness, he vowed.
‘Is this about Alexander?’ Aristotle’s bluntness caught Hephaistion unprepared. He had speeches prepared for Olympias and Philip, in front of whom, as it had turned out, he had never had the opportunity to defend his relationship with Alexander. He had choice words to brush off the teasing of the other boys. But he had never thought about what he might tell Aristotle. Misery gave way to recklessness.
‘It is and it isn’t,’ he replied grimly.
In the next second, Hephaistion was horrified at his admission, although part of him realized that it hardly mattered how Aristotle judged him, now that his existence was doomed anyway. Still, he drew a sharp breath and pressed his lips together.
‘I’m not a fool, Hephaistion,’ Aristotle said softly. ‘Just because I don’t say anything, it doesn’t mean that I don’t see.’
‘Fair enough,’ Hephaistion admitted, lowering his eyes. He didn’t feel strong enough to be defiant if a lecture came. The realization struck him without even bringing anger along with it.
‘I never thought I’d say this, especially with all I’ve taught you, but you two… you are above the flesh,’ Aristotle went on.
Hephaistion raised his eyes, unsure of Aristotle’s meaning and ready to protest, although not knowing how, but Aristotle resumed quickly. ‘Oh, I know you’ll get there eventually, like indeed you must, to come full circle, but what I’ve seen growing between you in these past months is indeed a bond so pure as I had come to believe existed only in legend. Your souls seem to do more than merely speak to each other: they shelter and inspire one another. It is a rare thing indeed and, for Alexander’s sake, as well as yours, I hope you can hold onto this remarkable bond.’
‘I don’t know how… especially now,’ Hephaistion found himself whispering, and for the second time in a short time, he was dumbfounded at his openness. And then he could not stop himself. The words flooded out in a surge of furious confession. He told Aristotle everything, from Philip’s proposal to spy on the prince, to the lie he had been forced to live in front of Alexander for the past days, to the burden of knowledge crushing him, sharing his grief with the teacher as if he was a stranger in a tavern. He only withheld one thing: what Philip had said about Alexander casting him away once he’d tire of him. That, Hephaistion understood, was his burden alone, to be carried in silence and solitude.
‘I’m sorry this happened to you, my boy,’ Aristotle said softly after a while, his eyes bearing proof of the sadness he felt. ‘You’ve had a very tough choice to make for one so young.’
‘It wasn’t really a choice,’ Hephaistion whispered with a sad smile. ‘I never really considered accepting Philip’s offer.’
‘And now? Do you regret your decision? Do you wish you had agreed, if only not to be parted from Alexander?’
‘How could I?’ Hephaistion cried indignantly. ‘I’d never go back on my word. What kind of a man do you think I am?’
‘I wasn’t asking about your word,’ Aristotle countered gently, ‘I was asking about your heart.’
Hephaistion ran his fingers absently through his hair, his gaze unfocused. ‘My heart…’ he said bitterly, ‘I hate the fact that I might be separated from Alexander. And I wish that it would be possible to stay with him always, at any cost. But betrayal is too high a price for a happy heart.’
‘I doubt it that Philip has not seen that,’ Aristotle reasoned. ‘He would after all gain nothing from removing you from Alexander’s side.’
‘And yet by getting rid of me, there will be room for another to replace me in Alexander's favour. Another who would not shy away from doing their duty for their king.’
‘Your thinking is not flawed, but you forget one thing: Philip is Alexander’s father, and in spite of his… shortcomings, he still wants to protect his son. Whether from love or from an instinct to preserve his kin, it does not matter. If he sees his son surrounded by loyal subjects, it should only bring him joy.’
‘Loyal subjects indeed,’ Hephaistion retorted, ‘but loyal to whom? My loyalty to Alexander is at odds with my loyalty to his father, who intends to make use of it. Philip may think this isn't a big thing, but surely Alexander would think differently if he knew. It would bring enmity between him and his father.’
‘Alexander will see a change in you, if he hasn’t already. You must be prepared for his questions, when they come.’
‘All I ever wanted was to be able to stand by Alexander’s side, be it in battle or in times of peace,’ Hephaistion spat, his bitterness unconcealed and almost physical in its intensity. ‘Now, no matter what happens, I’m doomed either way: if Philip gets no word from me, sooner or later I will be removed form Mieza. I can't tell Alexander, but if he finds out that I kept this from him deliberately, he will never trust me again.’
‘And yet you can do nothing else but sit and wait,’ Aristotle stated softly, as if talking to a child who had to understand why he was being punished for something he didn’t realize was wrong. ‘It would not be advisable to try to feed Philip useless information. The king is not a fool.’
Hephaistion looked up sharply, as if stunned that his thoughts had been that apparent. The thought of giving Philip worthless bits of news had crossed his mind more than once. He had almost managed to convince himself that it would work. And now, Aristotle had crushed his hope in one sentence showing him how deluded he’d been to think that he could get away with deceiving Philip.
‘I know,’ Hephaistion breathed and the weight of his burden bore down on him once more. It dug lines in his face and shadows under his eyes that had no place in his young countenance.
‘Either way, sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help either,’ Aristotle resumed. Hephaistion looked ready to protest his self-pity but in the end he controlled the urge, knowing full well that Aristotle did not mean it in a derisive way.
‘So how about trying to shake this defeated mood off?’ Aristotle looked Hephaistion dead in the eye, and in the watery depths of the philosopher’s gaze Hephaistion saw understanding and compassion.
‘Live your life like it could end tomorrow, Hephaistion. And if it doesn’t, be all the more grateful for it.’
The wind wafted through the open window with a promise of an early spring as Aristotle’s words flowed. Crouched like a cat outside the teacher’s window, Cassander sat motionless, hardly daring to breathe. He had not missed a word of the conversation. In a moment of unblemished victory, he congratulated himself on his idea of following Hephaistion. If he had not been alone, he would most likely have been told to wipe the sheer delight off his face.
TBC