The River of Ordeal
An Alternate Universe Story with Alexander, Hephaistion and Bagoas.
Author: Lysis
June 2012 (Copyright by Lysis)
(Originally written about 2005, but updated herein.)
Cast of Characters:
Alexander – Himself
Bagoas – Himself
Hephaistion – Himself
Kassandros – Himself
Setapas – Bagoas' Egyptian slave
"The Irishman" – an actor portraying Alexander in a film
"The Musician" – an actor portraying Hephaistion in a film.
"Kassandros" – an actor portraying him in a film.
"The Producer"- a producer, director, etc. of a film on Alexander
…And many others…..
Summary: Pure fiction: after Hephaistion had died, Bagoas comes several centuries into the future, present day to bring the reincarnated Hephaistion back to spend one night with Alexander to keep him from dying of sadness.
Rating: NOT PG
Standing by his hotel window, his IPod's earplugs clamped to his head, Bagoas, the beloved Persian favorite of Alexander the Great, kept a steady watch for a particular man to fall under his view. He had been waiting an hour, at least, for a sight of the man, and was restless. He picked at a chicken sandwich on a plate but ate little. The sandwich was thick with mayonnaise, a new delicacy which was to his liking, but he couldn't eat. Going into the bathroom, he splashed some cold water into his dark eyes, brushed his long, black hair and reapplied some scented oil to his wrists. The rich, pungent scent of Patchouli calmed him, but only a little. Aimlessly, he re-entered the main room of his suite and strolled back and forth before the window. He was taking a break from a film that was being shot depicting the life of Alexander. With the aid of the Chaldean Magi he had obtained a powerful magical incantation that had sent him into the future. Now, he found, rather to his amazement and amusement, for it was a singularly odd occurrence, he was portraying himself in the film.
Pushing his hair behind his ear, Bagoas sighed loudly, as he selected another song on his IPod. Brushing back a tear he selected 3 Doors Down: Here Without You. It always made him cry and he railed at himself for a moment for being such a fool as to listen to it, again. However, there was something about playing the song that brought him closer to his lover, Alexander. Once, during the shooting of the film, The Irishman, as he called the actor chosen to portray Alexander, during a bit of good natured horse play had grabbed the IPod away and threatened to break it if Bagoas didn't start listening to something less depressing.
Bagoas couldn't help but smile. Sometimes The Irishman did remind him of Alexander, but only in the most cursory manner. However, for Bagoas, The Irishman was a one dimensional pale copy next to the gold-haired King. The Irishman's heart was in the right place, though and no one could fault him for that.
"You're still with me in my dreams, Alexander." Bagoas murmured and closed his eyes against the heartache turning away from the window, remembering, wanting desperately to go back to where he belonged. He wanted to hear his name spoken in his own language from his lover's lips again. He wanted to go back to his own chamber, where Setapas, his Egyptian slave was waiting for him with his own familiar clothing, his favorite foods and sleep in his own wide, comfortable bed. More than anything Bagoas, son of Artembares, wanted to hear Alexander laugh again, to see his beautiful eyes light up clearly, freed from the anguish that was dimming his incandescence.
Now, two months after the death of Alexander's most beloved Companion, Hephaistion Alexander's grief had been such that Bagoas could no longer bear to watch his lover lie alone lost in his misery and memories night after night. He would not let Bagoas in, and for Bagoas this was worse than death. Bagoas would give anything even share his beloved with Hephaistion again, something he did not give into easily, for Hephaistion's hold on Alexander was the strongest, more than his which he would admit only to himself deep in the night, but if it would bring back joy to his sorrowing eyes he would find a way.
Bagoas loved Alexander with more than his mortal heart. His very soul was bound to him. Alexander's consuming sorrow was as unbearable to those around him as it was to himself. Nothing on earth could be done to bring Hephaistion back to him. Alexander knew that, Bagoas knew that. However, Bagoas knew something Alexander did not. From childhood Bagoas had heard legends of immortality and in his desperation he finally sought out Ishtar's priests for help.
Perhaps nothing on "earth" could bring Hephaistion back forever, but through the will of loving Ishtar, Mother of all, Alexander and Hephaistion could be together, again, for one night. Or so the legends told, but the price was dear and the soul of the supplicant was forever in Ishtar's debt. Ishtar love was all encompassing, but it could be two-fold, pain and passion. In making this choice Bagoas knew he would be hostage to pain for many lives to come, but for Alexander he would do anything.
He'd blown it though, Bagoas admitted to himself as he kicked at the wall in frustration and lit up a cigarette. His first attempt to bring Hephaistion back had failed.
'I'm supposed to be quitting these,' he reminded himself as he kicked off his sandals and got comfortable on his bed. Alexander would not take it well if Bagoas returned to his own time with a cigarette habit. 'Hmm,' he mused as he blew a lopsided circle into the air. 'I still prefer kif.' The hashish the other Irishman, the one he dubbed Kassandros, since he portrayed him - the pretty one with the lush mouth and sexy eyes had been tripping on last night must have been good, because he'd been really wasted.
"Wasted," Bagoas repeated the word carefully and giggled. Such odd language men spoke in this era into which he had come.
One might say, carefully of course, that of late, well, before Hephaistion's death, that Alexander and Hephaistion and many of his Companions had been wasted a good deal, especially after their trek out of the Gedrosian desert. They had wasted themselves on wine, some on the juice of poppy in its many forms, on the many forms of seduction available to a man who might seek solace from cares too great to bear for too long. He was about to amend his thoughts, feeling suddenly disloyal toward his lover, then stopped. Non, hard as it was to accept, Alexander had over-indulged of late. He had become quite ill as a result of it. Yet, he had not died, though many had thought he might. Instead, Hephaistion…
Bagoas stifled a sob. Hephaistion… Well, perhaps he had deserved to indulge more than most. By the mercy of Ahura Mazda, the man worked hard enough. He had done the work of several men, his hours long and exhausting as were Alexander's. He had spent himself tirelessly in service, in love…Bagoas could not, would not call it anything less than that in service to his king…to his lover.
Everyone had over indulged after they survived the rigors of the desert. Bagoas pushed away the images flooding through him. So many good men…friends, gone, lost to the drifting sands, the cold nights and burning days.
Perhaps it was a good thing to be wasted occasionally, he reflected thoughtfully. He had certainly spent his share of time being "wasted" as a young boy before he was sent into service to Darius, the Great King of Kings his first master. The days before he had joined the Royal Household had been painful ones, full of bitter memories and sorrow. Alexander had done a great deal to aid in his healing with his compassion and love. He was ever the master of his Soul. Non, he corrected himself; Alexander was not his master, even though Bagoas might consider him such. Indeed, he would correct him resoundingly were he to say such a thing.
"You are my dearest friend, my companion, my lover, my guide, so many things you are to me, dearest Bagoas, but never my slave, nor I your master. Remember that, dear one and do not irritate me with such silly thinking." He recalled how Alexander would tap a long finger against his forehead, and then kiss him resoundingly with much laughter and smiles.
"You may deny me the right to call you Master to your face, beloved, but it is what you are for you command my very heart and soul." He whispered to the air as though Alexander could hear him. He closed his eyes believing he could sense his presence about him, smell his scent, that rare freshness that was Alexander, hear the vibrant tenor of his voice, feel the cool touch of his skin against him shoulder when they lay together at night after love. Setting down his cigarette, he strode over to his dresser and removed a small bag and held it to his heart. "And, it is for your happiness that I am here."
To be continued….