Fic: Worthy of Your Soul 7/WIP
Title: Worthy of Your Soul 7/WIP
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG13
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
A/N: Heartfelt thanks to my Beta Fiona, whose superb skills have helped shape this story.
This is dedicated to all you wonderful people out there (you know who you are!!!), so supportive and encouraging when I wasn't well. Many thanks!
Seven
In the beginning, it had seemed odd, even awkward, for Philip to give a name to the exact reason why Alexander had descended on Pella and sought to speak to him. But after Alexander had voiced his concerns, sensibly wrapped in the cloak of reason and impeccably argued, the King had realized, not without a certain satisfaction, that his son sought his advice. Or at least an opinion from someone who was directly involved, and ultimately responsible, for the predicament Alexander and Hephaistion found themselves in.
Philip stood up and beckoned for Alexander to follow him. He wanted no one to disturb them, Philip mused, as they made their way silently towards the garden. But even more so, the King wanted no one to overhear what he disclosed to his son. Philip studied his son’s face closely, almost discerning the cracks in the mask that the boy worked so hard to maintain.
‘You know that I spent three years in Thebes, when I was about your age,’ Philip began as father and son strolled with measured steps on the squelchy ground of the garden path. ‘I was stationed in the house of the father of Epaminondas, whom you might have heard is the leader of the Sacred Band.’
He watched Alexander concentrating intently on his words. The boy’s eyes were made liquid and intense by the slanting sun and Philip tried in vain to see in him the youth that he himself had been what seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘Epaminondas’ brother, Solon, was my age and showed me friendship right from the start. We became inseparable, like brothers. I was alone there, young enough to be gullible, and a political hostage, so I warmed quickly to Solon’s kindness. But I soon realized that my feelings for Solon were far stronger than was proper for me to feel for a lad of my own years. But by a fortunate turn of events, I became aware that he returned my feelings. And for the next year, something wonderful happened…’
Philip paused and in the air between them, he could feel the intensity of Alexander’s expectation as much as his shock at the revelation. ‘I was happy, perfectly and - I thought - deservedly. I was content to share my life, my thoughts and my body with the only one who meant anything to me. We made plans to go into battle together, to strive to unite our countries and all of Greece… the usual foolishness that all young men aspire to. But of course I was blind.’
‘What happened? What came between you?’ Alexander asked hoarsely, the premonition already shadowing his eyes.
‘Life came between us, son,’ Philip said wearily. ‘You see, when I was with Solon, I needed nothing and no one else. I studied the infantry reforms in Thebes and distantly thought about how I could apply them to Macedon. I’d hear news of home and the unrest, of my brothers’ troubled reign and think of what I’d do in their place. But in truth, my heart and my mind were flying to Solon and the next night we’d spend together.’
‘I went as far as to ask Solon to return to Macedon with me, fool that I was. But he just shook his head sadly and reminded me who we both were and that was the beginning of my awakening. It was not for people like me, indeed like us, to enjoy a quiet life together. It was up to me to bring my dream of glory to reality, but in doing so I had to subordinate everything else to its attainment. Success is a fickle mistress, I learned. The few moments of true enjoyment and a soul to share everything with are luck beyond what the gods grant people of great power. Do not forget who you are, Alexander, or where your duties lie. Do not be blinded by your feelings, strong as they may seem at the time.’
Alexander’s jaw tightened and Philip sensed the battle that raged inside the boy’s heart. He raised a pair of darkened, wisdom and pain-filled eyes to his father.
‘You are young,’ the King told him finally, without intending to sound dismissive, but in truth not remembering anymore how to not be cynical. ‘I understand you need a friend like Hephaistion, a lover even. But do not mistake the infatuation that you feel now for love. Bed him, have your fun together for as long as you can, but do not make promises for the future. It will be easier for you both.’
He stood under the accusatory glare of his son and he could not help but smile. Privately, he thought the boy looked quite fierce in his growing rage, his eyes fixed and very cold, but it was coldness borne of sorrow. Philip had clearly underestimated the extent of his son’s infatuation with Amyntor’s son.
He did not waste his breath on more. Philip might have had only one eye, but he could very well recognize a battle that was lost.
‘You will be king one day. Love can turn into dependency and subtle influence just as your weakness for someone else can be used as a weapon against you.’
‘Am I then to shelter my heart forever?’ Alexander exclaimed and Philip could not tell if the boy were furious at the situation or because he had let drop his pretense.
‘There will always be one or other who might be hurt. And it will always be the ones who really matter. Just like now.’
Philip turned back towards the palace. The sunny days after the rain had improved the pain in his leg, but the still changing weather did nothing to help his damaged joint.
‘Father-‘ Alexander began, but Philip held up his hand authoritatively.
‘Enough - for now. Before you say anything else, you should know that I have no ill will towards Hephaistion, even if he did refuse me to my face.’
‘I know he did, he told me.’
‘Did you also know that he was willing to give up his ambition for a future career in the cavalry at the same time?’
Alexander did not reply but pressed his lips together rather sullenly.
‘Of course, you would not have thought about the consequences of his refusal. He knew well enough what it would cost him eventually, disgrace and in the end, no place near you. In spite of this, Hephaistion chose to be loyal to you. And in a certain way, I am glad that this turned out to be a test of loyalty for him. More than that, it caused him to think further than his own nose and he came up with a plan. Now we have an agreement.’
‘Agreement?’ Alexander echoed, curiosity giving way to dread across his face. ‘What kind of agreement?’
‘That, I think,’ Philip grinned half-mysteriously, half-maliciously, ‘is between you and him to sort. I’m sure he’ll tell you, if you give him the chance. All I’ll tell you is that he gave me a viable alternative.’
‘Father, what-‘ Alexander began and the king saw that he was ready to say things that he might well regret. Fortunately, Alexander exercised his control and calmed his voice. ‘Very well, I will ask him. I gather that he came here after he left Mieza.’
Philip nodded slowly in acquiescence. ‘One more thing,’ he added as an afterthought, when in fact it was anything but, ‘he’s probably sick, he looked like Hades when I last saw him. The fool sat around in wet clothes the whole day waiting to see me. I hope he doesn’t die of the chill he caught.’
There was no mistaking the great concern nesting in Alexander’s eyes. Just as quickly, the boy’s gaze blanked and the faint trace of his feelings was shut inside. He would have to watch this relationship, Philip thought. He passionately disliked the idea of someone having influence over his son, someone who could sway with looks or with the warmth of his thighs. Especially if that someone possessed a brain that he had demonstrated he could use rather keenly.
~~
Alexander found Hephaistion curled in a ball, under a pile of blankets, his breathing uneven and shallow.
A sallow-faced youth dressed in the garb of an apprentice healer sat by Hephaistion’s bed. He struggled to stay awake because he started violently when Alexander burst into the room.
‘Where is the master healer?’ the prince enquired without preamble.
The apprentice struggled to find his voice under the intense gaze directed at him and no doubt unsettled to recognize the prince of Macedon. ‘He’s gone for the day,’ he burbled, ‘but he left instructions and medicine for me to administer to the patient for the night.’
Alexander moved to study Hephaistion. ‘What is wrong with him?’ he asked softly, his eyes not moving off the sleeping form, as if forgetting that he was sharing space with another human.
‘Master healer Sostratos says he’s got a chest chill.’ He hesitated before he spoke again. ‘A bad one.’
Alexander snapped his head around and directed a fixed glare at the young man. ‘How long has he been like this?’
‘The fever has not broken in three days, my prince,’ the hesitant answer came, ‘and when he is not sleeping like now, he is somewhere in a realm of his own. I have been able to get him to swallow some medicine, but he’s shown little improvement.’
Calmly, Alexander pushed away the sweaty strings of hair that clung to Hephaistion’s face and touched his forehead lightly, confirming his fear. The fever was dangerously high especially in his condition where most likely the sickness had settled inside the chest. Hephaistion looked tired even in sleep and he did not stir at Alexander’s feather touch.
He turned towards the young man and examined him as if for the first time ‘What is your name?’ He thought that the unhealthy look the apprentice displayed was the last thing a sick man needed by his bedside.
‘Glaukos, my prince.’
‘Thank you, Glaukos,’ Alexander said in the most amiable tone he could muster, ‘you can go now. I will stay with him.’
Nodding quickly and somewhat relieved, the apprentice shuffled towards the door but before he exited, he turned and said in a small voice before he let himself out. ‘It’s as if somehow this sickness is more than one of the body…’
Alexander heard the words but did not reply. He pressed his lips together as claws of fear gripped his stomach. Then he tucked the blankets tighter around his sleeping friend and stormed outside, bellowing for slaves, ordering another brazier with hot coals to warm the room, before hurrying off to the healers’ quarters. Once there, the prince called impatiently for a mixture of horsetail, sage and hellebore which he then re-measured himself and brought to boil over a slow fire. He let the concoction simmer, while pacing around anxiously, then strained it through a linen cloth until he was happy with its rusty colour.
Returning to the barracks, he sat on the bed beside Hephaistion and with great difficulty and spilling almost half of it, he spooned the medicine down his friend’s throat. He wasn’t sure how fast it would work, but he meant to stay there at least until he could determine with certainty that Hephaistion’s fever was breaking.
Then, preferably before his friend awoke, he would leave. In spite of knowing how soothing his presence would be to Hephaistion, Alexander had decided that he could not be Hephaistion’s first conscious image. It would seem like all that had happened between them were reduced to nothing. Determinedly, Alexander pressed his lips together and fought the wave of nauseous worry choking him.
For hours, he kept vigil over the sleeping boy, gently coaxing more medicine into him, until Hephaistion’s ragged breathing gentled and became somewhat more regular.
Night had long since fallen and Alexander was growing drowsy, so he stood up and lit the oil lamp. He had waved the servants away some time ago and he had been oblivious, even comfortable in the deepening darkness. He walked to the window and pulled the shutters close, shutting out the night. When he turned, he almost let out a gasp of surprise: Hephaistion’s eyes were open, staring at him, incredulous and yet not daring to show happiness.
‘Alexander… are you really here?’
In the golden lamplight, Hephaistion’s usually healthy countenance glowed waxen and ghostly, made more so by his bleary and unfocused eyes. His voice was barely audible, croaky and guttural and a fresh surge of dread shot through Alexander, who found that he could not reply immediately, lest his own voice betrayed him.
‘Yes, I am here,’ Alexander replied finally. Then he added rather crisply, ‘I came to Pella to see my father and he told me that you were sick.’
Hephaistion’s mien hardened, clearly disappointed by the prince’s formal tone.
‘What else did your father tell you?’ he asked, making a visible effort to string the words together.
Alexander studied Hephaistion’s tight-lipped expression, recognizing resoluteness and grit beyond the pallor of illness.
‘That is for another time to discuss,’ Alexander replied, returning Hephaistion’s look. ‘For now, you have to concentrate on getting better.’
Hephaistion nodded imperceptibly. ‘As you wish.’
‘There is medicine,’ Alexander said neutrally, pointing to the bed stand and taking a tentative step to help before the pointed look in Hephaistion’s eyes arrested his movement.
With great effort, Hephaistion raised himself a little on his elbow and attempted to grasp the cup. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed uncomfortably. Alexander winced inwardly but stood still, watching Hephaistion, who managed to take a few slow sips of the liquid. His features twisted in disgust.
‘It’s vile.’
‘I know,’ Alexander replied almost sympathetically. ‘It’s one of the remedies that Aristotle taught us. But you should drink as much of it as you can if you want to recover quickly.’
Hephaistion sighed almost dramatically, seemingly resigned to having to stomach large quantities of the foul tasting draught.
‘Thank you for this,’ he said tiredly, settling back into his blankets with a slight shiver.
Alexander nodded. ‘I should go,’ he added quickly and made his way to the exit. He lingered in front of the closed door before he reached to open it.
‘Alexander… wait!’ the anxious call made Alexander stop dead in his tracks. He turned around, schooling his features into deceptive calm.
Hephaistion locked his gaze into Alexander’s, who felt his anger and worry and wretchedness suck him into a tunnel of uncertainty. He wanted to run away and at the same time bolt the door to shut out the rest of the world. He wanted everything on the table now, out in the open, so that he could either forget everything or make a decision that he felt incapable of and berated himself for it.
‘How long will you stay in Pella?’ The question winded Alexander, who had been sure that Hephaistion was going to say something entirely different. He felt angry at himself for expecting it.
‘Three, four days at the most,’ he replied sullenly, not having any intention of revealing that he wished to stay until Hephaistion was recovered.
Shuffling his feet, Alexander fumbled with the doorstop anew. ‘Good night, Hephaistion!’
Alexander swung out the door and almost leapt out by the time Hephaistion had the chance to wish him a good night in turn. He raced towards the main palace building as if the hounds of Hades were trailing him.
~~
He ran. Across labyrinthine and shadowy corridors, a city deadened by heat and stifled by dust. He opened intricately carved doors, one after the other, frantic in his haste, searching, oblivious to the opulence and bursts of wild colour assaulting his eyes. Room after room proved empty, not a single soul walked the corridors of the foreign palace. The dust floated in the shafts of light and rose with the smell of heavy incense and Alexander felt as if he was getting closer. He knew not to what or to who but he obstinately continued to open the doors, even though strange foreknowledge told him that whatever he was looking for was not there anymore.
That he was too late.
He wanted to stop and calm his breath, wipe the dust off his face and take stock of his surroundings. But he did not, instead he glanced perfunctorily at the endless row of doors before him and steeling himself he began to search again.
Alexander snapped awake, feeling the taste of the foreign dust still in his mouth. Was he too late?
Just as quickly as he had run back to his rooms from the barracks, Alexander retraced his steps and before dawn bled slowly through the remains of the night, he sat at Hephaistion’s bedside again. Feeling his friend’s forehead, he was overjoyed to discover that the fever had broken.
Alexander settled more comfortably in the chair and allowed himself to doze off. This time no dreams plagued his sleep.
Previous Parts:
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG13
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
A/N: Heartfelt thanks to my Beta Fiona, whose superb skills have helped shape this story.
This is dedicated to all you wonderful people out there (you know who you are!!!), so supportive and encouraging when I wasn't well. Many thanks!
Seven
In the beginning, it had seemed odd, even awkward, for Philip to give a name to the exact reason why Alexander had descended on Pella and sought to speak to him. But after Alexander had voiced his concerns, sensibly wrapped in the cloak of reason and impeccably argued, the King had realized, not without a certain satisfaction, that his son sought his advice. Or at least an opinion from someone who was directly involved, and ultimately responsible, for the predicament Alexander and Hephaistion found themselves in.
Philip stood up and beckoned for Alexander to follow him. He wanted no one to disturb them, Philip mused, as they made their way silently towards the garden. But even more so, the King wanted no one to overhear what he disclosed to his son. Philip studied his son’s face closely, almost discerning the cracks in the mask that the boy worked so hard to maintain.
‘You know that I spent three years in Thebes, when I was about your age,’ Philip began as father and son strolled with measured steps on the squelchy ground of the garden path. ‘I was stationed in the house of the father of Epaminondas, whom you might have heard is the leader of the Sacred Band.’
He watched Alexander concentrating intently on his words. The boy’s eyes were made liquid and intense by the slanting sun and Philip tried in vain to see in him the youth that he himself had been what seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘Epaminondas’ brother, Solon, was my age and showed me friendship right from the start. We became inseparable, like brothers. I was alone there, young enough to be gullible, and a political hostage, so I warmed quickly to Solon’s kindness. But I soon realized that my feelings for Solon were far stronger than was proper for me to feel for a lad of my own years. But by a fortunate turn of events, I became aware that he returned my feelings. And for the next year, something wonderful happened…’
Philip paused and in the air between them, he could feel the intensity of Alexander’s expectation as much as his shock at the revelation. ‘I was happy, perfectly and - I thought - deservedly. I was content to share my life, my thoughts and my body with the only one who meant anything to me. We made plans to go into battle together, to strive to unite our countries and all of Greece… the usual foolishness that all young men aspire to. But of course I was blind.’
‘What happened? What came between you?’ Alexander asked hoarsely, the premonition already shadowing his eyes.
‘Life came between us, son,’ Philip said wearily. ‘You see, when I was with Solon, I needed nothing and no one else. I studied the infantry reforms in Thebes and distantly thought about how I could apply them to Macedon. I’d hear news of home and the unrest, of my brothers’ troubled reign and think of what I’d do in their place. But in truth, my heart and my mind were flying to Solon and the next night we’d spend together.’
‘I went as far as to ask Solon to return to Macedon with me, fool that I was. But he just shook his head sadly and reminded me who we both were and that was the beginning of my awakening. It was not for people like me, indeed like us, to enjoy a quiet life together. It was up to me to bring my dream of glory to reality, but in doing so I had to subordinate everything else to its attainment. Success is a fickle mistress, I learned. The few moments of true enjoyment and a soul to share everything with are luck beyond what the gods grant people of great power. Do not forget who you are, Alexander, or where your duties lie. Do not be blinded by your feelings, strong as they may seem at the time.’
Alexander’s jaw tightened and Philip sensed the battle that raged inside the boy’s heart. He raised a pair of darkened, wisdom and pain-filled eyes to his father.
‘You are young,’ the King told him finally, without intending to sound dismissive, but in truth not remembering anymore how to not be cynical. ‘I understand you need a friend like Hephaistion, a lover even. But do not mistake the infatuation that you feel now for love. Bed him, have your fun together for as long as you can, but do not make promises for the future. It will be easier for you both.’
He stood under the accusatory glare of his son and he could not help but smile. Privately, he thought the boy looked quite fierce in his growing rage, his eyes fixed and very cold, but it was coldness borne of sorrow. Philip had clearly underestimated the extent of his son’s infatuation with Amyntor’s son.
He did not waste his breath on more. Philip might have had only one eye, but he could very well recognize a battle that was lost.
‘You will be king one day. Love can turn into dependency and subtle influence just as your weakness for someone else can be used as a weapon against you.’
‘Am I then to shelter my heart forever?’ Alexander exclaimed and Philip could not tell if the boy were furious at the situation or because he had let drop his pretense.
‘There will always be one or other who might be hurt. And it will always be the ones who really matter. Just like now.’
Philip turned back towards the palace. The sunny days after the rain had improved the pain in his leg, but the still changing weather did nothing to help his damaged joint.
‘Father-‘ Alexander began, but Philip held up his hand authoritatively.
‘Enough - for now. Before you say anything else, you should know that I have no ill will towards Hephaistion, even if he did refuse me to my face.’
‘I know he did, he told me.’
‘Did you also know that he was willing to give up his ambition for a future career in the cavalry at the same time?’
Alexander did not reply but pressed his lips together rather sullenly.
‘Of course, you would not have thought about the consequences of his refusal. He knew well enough what it would cost him eventually, disgrace and in the end, no place near you. In spite of this, Hephaistion chose to be loyal to you. And in a certain way, I am glad that this turned out to be a test of loyalty for him. More than that, it caused him to think further than his own nose and he came up with a plan. Now we have an agreement.’
‘Agreement?’ Alexander echoed, curiosity giving way to dread across his face. ‘What kind of agreement?’
‘That, I think,’ Philip grinned half-mysteriously, half-maliciously, ‘is between you and him to sort. I’m sure he’ll tell you, if you give him the chance. All I’ll tell you is that he gave me a viable alternative.’
‘Father, what-‘ Alexander began and the king saw that he was ready to say things that he might well regret. Fortunately, Alexander exercised his control and calmed his voice. ‘Very well, I will ask him. I gather that he came here after he left Mieza.’
Philip nodded slowly in acquiescence. ‘One more thing,’ he added as an afterthought, when in fact it was anything but, ‘he’s probably sick, he looked like Hades when I last saw him. The fool sat around in wet clothes the whole day waiting to see me. I hope he doesn’t die of the chill he caught.’
There was no mistaking the great concern nesting in Alexander’s eyes. Just as quickly, the boy’s gaze blanked and the faint trace of his feelings was shut inside. He would have to watch this relationship, Philip thought. He passionately disliked the idea of someone having influence over his son, someone who could sway with looks or with the warmth of his thighs. Especially if that someone possessed a brain that he had demonstrated he could use rather keenly.
~~
Alexander found Hephaistion curled in a ball, under a pile of blankets, his breathing uneven and shallow.
A sallow-faced youth dressed in the garb of an apprentice healer sat by Hephaistion’s bed. He struggled to stay awake because he started violently when Alexander burst into the room.
‘Where is the master healer?’ the prince enquired without preamble.
The apprentice struggled to find his voice under the intense gaze directed at him and no doubt unsettled to recognize the prince of Macedon. ‘He’s gone for the day,’ he burbled, ‘but he left instructions and medicine for me to administer to the patient for the night.’
Alexander moved to study Hephaistion. ‘What is wrong with him?’ he asked softly, his eyes not moving off the sleeping form, as if forgetting that he was sharing space with another human.
‘Master healer Sostratos says he’s got a chest chill.’ He hesitated before he spoke again. ‘A bad one.’
Alexander snapped his head around and directed a fixed glare at the young man. ‘How long has he been like this?’
‘The fever has not broken in three days, my prince,’ the hesitant answer came, ‘and when he is not sleeping like now, he is somewhere in a realm of his own. I have been able to get him to swallow some medicine, but he’s shown little improvement.’
Calmly, Alexander pushed away the sweaty strings of hair that clung to Hephaistion’s face and touched his forehead lightly, confirming his fear. The fever was dangerously high especially in his condition where most likely the sickness had settled inside the chest. Hephaistion looked tired even in sleep and he did not stir at Alexander’s feather touch.
He turned towards the young man and examined him as if for the first time ‘What is your name?’ He thought that the unhealthy look the apprentice displayed was the last thing a sick man needed by his bedside.
‘Glaukos, my prince.’
‘Thank you, Glaukos,’ Alexander said in the most amiable tone he could muster, ‘you can go now. I will stay with him.’
Nodding quickly and somewhat relieved, the apprentice shuffled towards the door but before he exited, he turned and said in a small voice before he let himself out. ‘It’s as if somehow this sickness is more than one of the body…’
Alexander heard the words but did not reply. He pressed his lips together as claws of fear gripped his stomach. Then he tucked the blankets tighter around his sleeping friend and stormed outside, bellowing for slaves, ordering another brazier with hot coals to warm the room, before hurrying off to the healers’ quarters. Once there, the prince called impatiently for a mixture of horsetail, sage and hellebore which he then re-measured himself and brought to boil over a slow fire. He let the concoction simmer, while pacing around anxiously, then strained it through a linen cloth until he was happy with its rusty colour.
Returning to the barracks, he sat on the bed beside Hephaistion and with great difficulty and spilling almost half of it, he spooned the medicine down his friend’s throat. He wasn’t sure how fast it would work, but he meant to stay there at least until he could determine with certainty that Hephaistion’s fever was breaking.
Then, preferably before his friend awoke, he would leave. In spite of knowing how soothing his presence would be to Hephaistion, Alexander had decided that he could not be Hephaistion’s first conscious image. It would seem like all that had happened between them were reduced to nothing. Determinedly, Alexander pressed his lips together and fought the wave of nauseous worry choking him.
For hours, he kept vigil over the sleeping boy, gently coaxing more medicine into him, until Hephaistion’s ragged breathing gentled and became somewhat more regular.
Night had long since fallen and Alexander was growing drowsy, so he stood up and lit the oil lamp. He had waved the servants away some time ago and he had been oblivious, even comfortable in the deepening darkness. He walked to the window and pulled the shutters close, shutting out the night. When he turned, he almost let out a gasp of surprise: Hephaistion’s eyes were open, staring at him, incredulous and yet not daring to show happiness.
‘Alexander… are you really here?’
In the golden lamplight, Hephaistion’s usually healthy countenance glowed waxen and ghostly, made more so by his bleary and unfocused eyes. His voice was barely audible, croaky and guttural and a fresh surge of dread shot through Alexander, who found that he could not reply immediately, lest his own voice betrayed him.
‘Yes, I am here,’ Alexander replied finally. Then he added rather crisply, ‘I came to Pella to see my father and he told me that you were sick.’
Hephaistion’s mien hardened, clearly disappointed by the prince’s formal tone.
‘What else did your father tell you?’ he asked, making a visible effort to string the words together.
Alexander studied Hephaistion’s tight-lipped expression, recognizing resoluteness and grit beyond the pallor of illness.
‘That is for another time to discuss,’ Alexander replied, returning Hephaistion’s look. ‘For now, you have to concentrate on getting better.’
Hephaistion nodded imperceptibly. ‘As you wish.’
‘There is medicine,’ Alexander said neutrally, pointing to the bed stand and taking a tentative step to help before the pointed look in Hephaistion’s eyes arrested his movement.
With great effort, Hephaistion raised himself a little on his elbow and attempted to grasp the cup. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed uncomfortably. Alexander winced inwardly but stood still, watching Hephaistion, who managed to take a few slow sips of the liquid. His features twisted in disgust.
‘It’s vile.’
‘I know,’ Alexander replied almost sympathetically. ‘It’s one of the remedies that Aristotle taught us. But you should drink as much of it as you can if you want to recover quickly.’
Hephaistion sighed almost dramatically, seemingly resigned to having to stomach large quantities of the foul tasting draught.
‘Thank you for this,’ he said tiredly, settling back into his blankets with a slight shiver.
Alexander nodded. ‘I should go,’ he added quickly and made his way to the exit. He lingered in front of the closed door before he reached to open it.
‘Alexander… wait!’ the anxious call made Alexander stop dead in his tracks. He turned around, schooling his features into deceptive calm.
Hephaistion locked his gaze into Alexander’s, who felt his anger and worry and wretchedness suck him into a tunnel of uncertainty. He wanted to run away and at the same time bolt the door to shut out the rest of the world. He wanted everything on the table now, out in the open, so that he could either forget everything or make a decision that he felt incapable of and berated himself for it.
‘How long will you stay in Pella?’ The question winded Alexander, who had been sure that Hephaistion was going to say something entirely different. He felt angry at himself for expecting it.
‘Three, four days at the most,’ he replied sullenly, not having any intention of revealing that he wished to stay until Hephaistion was recovered.
Shuffling his feet, Alexander fumbled with the doorstop anew. ‘Good night, Hephaistion!’
Alexander swung out the door and almost leapt out by the time Hephaistion had the chance to wish him a good night in turn. He raced towards the main palace building as if the hounds of Hades were trailing him.
~~
He ran. Across labyrinthine and shadowy corridors, a city deadened by heat and stifled by dust. He opened intricately carved doors, one after the other, frantic in his haste, searching, oblivious to the opulence and bursts of wild colour assaulting his eyes. Room after room proved empty, not a single soul walked the corridors of the foreign palace. The dust floated in the shafts of light and rose with the smell of heavy incense and Alexander felt as if he was getting closer. He knew not to what or to who but he obstinately continued to open the doors, even though strange foreknowledge told him that whatever he was looking for was not there anymore.
That he was too late.
He wanted to stop and calm his breath, wipe the dust off his face and take stock of his surroundings. But he did not, instead he glanced perfunctorily at the endless row of doors before him and steeling himself he began to search again.
Alexander snapped awake, feeling the taste of the foreign dust still in his mouth. Was he too late?
Just as quickly as he had run back to his rooms from the barracks, Alexander retraced his steps and before dawn bled slowly through the remains of the night, he sat at Hephaistion’s bedside again. Feeling his friend’s forehead, he was overjoyed to discover that the fever had broken.
Alexander settled more comfortably in the chair and allowed himself to doze off. This time no dreams plagued his sleep.
Previous Parts:
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six