BUILDING BRIDGES

by Tribal Shimmy

Alexander gets a chance to realise what his actions/choices have done to hurt Hephaistion.

BUILDING BRIDGES by Tribal Shimmy

SUMMARY: Alexander is reminded of just how much Hephaistion means to him.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alexander or Hephaistion - but then again nobody does.

RATING: Some violence, but hopefully equal matched with tender moments.

BUILDING BRIDGES

So the bridge was finally complete. It had been ready now, for Alexander and his army, for two days.

Hephaistion walked across it, stopping half way to watch the brown river flow beneath, to cast his eyes over the foreign landscape. The weather had turned colder over the last few days; snow was expected. Alexander would be arriving at any time. Meanwhile, he had formed a camp here, Alexander asking him to take Roxanne with him, while he settled things before moving on himself. Hephaistion sighed, he and Roxanne did not see eye to eye at the best of times. During the past couple of weeks, she had seemed to delight in making as many impossible demands as she could.

The smell of the freshly chopped wood engulfed him and he closed his eyes. His mood was one of melancholy. This was not what he thought his life would be. He was building bridges, negotiating, moving soldiers…

He opened his eyes and sighed once more; wrapping his arms about himself, he began to walk back to camp and then hesitated, reluctant to lose the solitude. He looked back, across the bridge. When had he become a bridge-builder? He thought there would be more.

Feeling as if he would drown in his emotions if he did not move, he forced himself back to the camp. He had supplies to check on, and he had promised to attend a feast being given by the engineers.

"You! Hephaistion!"

Hephaistion turned to see Roxanne striding towards him, holding a silver plate in her hands.

"Look!" she shouted, pushing the plate out towards Hephaistion.

Hephaistion could see nothing wrong with it. There was bread, cheese and fruit. He looked up at Roxanne.

"You want me to eat this!" she shrilled, hurling the plate aside, barely missing one of the camp dogs, who was then quick to recognise opportunity and snatched at the food, now scattered on the ground.

"You've eaten it before," Hephaistion replied, calmly.

Roxanne scowled at him. "I don't want to eat it any more."

"There will be meat tonight."

"I want it now."

"Then go hunt for it, Roxanne."

Hephaistion gave a brief bow, ending their conversation, but Roxanne had other ideas. She chased after him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him round. Having achieved her objective she did not know what to say; so went to strike Hephaistion across the face. Hephaistion had guessed her intent and put up his hand, to deflect her blow and catch her hand.

Roxanne yelped in pain. "I will tell Alexander. I will tell him how cruel you are to me. I will tell him that I would rather be thrown into a fire than have to be here, on my own, with you!"

Hephaistion smiled. "I'll build that fire for you, if you want, Roxanne. Go tell Alexander. He married you; I did not. I should not be the one who is stuck with you."

"Bagoas took your place," spat Roxanne. "He lies with Alexander now." Roxanne laughed, her eyes seeking the pain in Hephaistion's. "To think I was once jealous of you…I thought that Alexander loved you…I thought he loved you."

Taking a step back, Hephaistion turned and walked away, still hearing Roxanne's laughter, aware of the crowd who had witnessed their altercation. He ran his hands through his hair. It was nothing new. Every day she made a new accusation; Alexander had married Medusa

Oryntus met him at the supply tents and Hephaistion welcomed the distraction, although checking the stocks was a mundane task. Roxanne's words had hit home, like a knife to his heart.

After a while, Hephaistion found Oryntus' fervour for supplies tiresome. They were heading for the third supply tent when a cry went up.

Hephaistion handed the paperwork over to Oryntus and then headed for the edge of the camp to see Alexander's scouts appearing on the horizon. Once the scouts saw the camp they pushed their horses into a gallop. Then Ptolemy's troop came into sight. Held in check, by their general, they rode in at nothing more than a slow canter.

Alexander was arriving. Hephaistion hurried over to greet Ptolemy who was still mounted on his horse, looking over to the bridge.

"You build a fine bridge," said Ptolemy, as he dismounted and handed his horse to a page, before embracing Hephaistion.

"It's the engineers who get things done. I just say yes or no to their ideas, settle their disagreements and organise the supplies they need," replied Hephaistion. "How is Alexander?"

Ptolemy pulled a face. "Like a bear with a sore head. Just two days ago, he indulged the pages with some swordplay. Heredotus, the big lad, he got a little carried away and picked up a javelin, used it as a club and struck Alexander in the throat."

Hephaistion put his hand on Ptolemy's arm. "How badly is he injured?"

Ptolemy shook his head. "Remember when he was injured in battle and could not speak?"

Hephaistion nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Menethius says it is the same as before. Alexander is mute…at least for the time being, his voice will return in time but he does not know when."

"He's not trying to speak?" That had been the problem before. Alexander still trying to speak had caused a delay in his recovery."

"He can't, Hephaistion. He has a slate to write on, but he has already broken three in temper."

"And what of Heredotus?"

"He's in Seleucus' troop, being kept out of Alexander's sight, for now. Once Alexander is well it will all be forgotten."

Hephaistion patted Ptolemy's shoulder, leaving him to organise his troop. He walked up to high ground, enjoying the spectacle of the army's arrival. Soldiers hailed him as they passed; Seleucus and Perdiccas rode over to greet him, sharing Ptolemy's opinion of Alexander's mood.

Alexander. Hephaistion could not wait to set eyes on him once more, but when he did, it was as if the knife had gone through his heart. There, riding alongside Alexander, was Biogas. Where he used to be. As Hephaistion looked, Bagoas reached out his hand to touch Alexander's, then pointed out the bridge and smiled. Alexander reached over and put his hand on Bagoas' thigh, as if congratulating him, as if he had made the bridge.

Deciding not to wait, Hephaistion walked down the ridge and headed for his tent. He saw Roxanne waiting, her arms folded across her chest. He quickly went left and found another route back to his sanctuary.

Once there, he saw that Oryntus had left the notes, on the supplies. Needing something to distract himself, he took off his cloak, throwing it on the bed, and sat down to study the accounts. He stared at the paper, unable to focus his mind, seeing Alexander with Bagoas.

He heard footsteps approaching, the guard not questioning. Hephaistion stood, his heart beating faster, half of him expecting to see Alexander and then disappointed to see Cassander enter.

"Hephaistion. We are back. Did you not hear?"

"I heard," replied Hephaistion. "I have been busy with accounts."

Cassander glanced over at the table and seeing the paperwork seemed to accept the answer.

Hephaistion poured him some wine; Cassander took it and went to sit on the bed, before taking a sip of it.

"I'm frozen," Cassander said. "If we must conquer, then why not somewhere with a warmer climate?" He took another sip of wine, looking at Hephaistion over the rim of the cup. "I thought you would have hurried to Alexander."

"I will go to him shortly."

"Right now, he is inspecting the bridge with Seleucus and Perdiccas. He's not in the best humour. You heard what happened to him?"

"Ptolemy told me."

Cassander took another sip of wine, fixing his eyes on Hephaistion. "Biogas has been caring for him."

Hephaistion nodded, looking to the ground before meeting Cassander's eyes. "Good," he whispered.

"Though, I should think that he will lie in Roxanne's arms tonight," Cassander added, taking another sip of wine and once more staring at Hephaistion.

Hephaistion did not reply, but turned to straighten the papers on his table.

"Are you not cold at night, Hephaistion?" Cassander leaned back onto his bed.

Hephaistion shook his head and poured himself some wine, just to occupy himself. Cassander got up from the bed and approached him, lifting his hand to brush an errant strand of hair from Hephaistion's face.

There were more footsteps and Ptolemy entered the tent. "I think that Alexander is looking for you, Hephaistion," he said, going to say more but stopping himself as he saw Cassander.

"I was just leaving," said Cassander. Smiling at Hephaistion, he thanked him for the wine, bowed low and then left.

"Come," said Ptolemy. "Alexander is at the bridge." He put his arm around Hephaistion's shoulders and guided him out of the tent.

The army had arrived. Tents were being pitched, Alexander's close to his own. Hephaistion could see Bagoas overseeing the offloading of the carts. Biogas looked over at Hephaistion and then looked away. Hephaistion did not know why, Bagoas had worked hard to earn Alexander's favour; he should not be ashamed of it now he had it.

Ptolemy held him tighter. "He needs you, Hephaistion, Bagoas is nothing but a recreation to him, Roxanne to bear him a child. He needs you."

Hephaistion was surprised to feel tears suddenly sting his eyes. He blinked them back and smiled at the stupidity of crying. He could not explain his melancholic mood, but it must be obvious to all, including Cassander. He knew that Cassander was only playing games; he always played games…dangerous ones. Alexander had sent him here to build a bridge, when any other could have done the job for him.

Alexander was standing on the centre of the bridge, just as Hephaistion had been standing earlier. Seleucus and Perdiccas were a short distance away, talking to each other. They complimented Hephaistion on the bridge as he walked by them. Alexander turned towards him and held his arms out so that Hephaistion could step into the embrace.

Hephaistion buried his face in Alexander's neck, breathing in the scent that he had missed so much, taking comfort from Alexander's body pressed against his own. "Ptolemy told me what happened, Alexander," he whispered.

He felt Alexander hold him closer, before releasing him. Hephaistion looked into the grey eyes, seeing the distress and anger there.

Hephaistion smiled. "You never had much patience, did you, Alexander?" He squeezed Alexander's arms, giving him a look of reassurance. "You will recover your voice, Alexander. It came back before, you need to rest it, that is all."

Alexander held up a piece of slate, frowning at it. Then, as if to show the contempt he had for having to write his words down every time he wanted to speak, he threw it into the river. He went to walk to the camp but Hephaistion caught hold of his arm.

"It will recover, Alexander. We have no battles to fight, just yet, there is no threat, stay here and rest and then we will move on."

Alexander looked at him, then shrugged off his hand.

Hephaistion took his arm again. "It was an unlucky accident, Alexander. You push yourself too hard, you should rest."

Alexander hesitated, but then stepped away from Hephaistion and headed for the camp.

Hephaistion found himself alone.

As Cassander had predicted, Alexander chose to spend the night with Roxanne.

Hephaistion did not see Alexander after their brief meeting on the bridge. Alexander had chosen to dine alone with Roxanne, so Ptolemy had hosted a dinner. Hephaistion had gone, but his heart had not been in it. He tried to drink away his sorrow, but the wine was well watered and had not been strong enough to ease any pain.

Coming back to his own tent, he removed his tunic, cavalry boots and trousers he found comfortable in the cold climate. Everyone had adopted that style of dress, taking the lead from Alexander. He lay down beneath the furs on his bed, shivering until his body heat warmed the bed.

He blew out the lamp the pages had left for him, and lay awake for a good while. He must have eventually fallen asleep, but he awoke some time before the dawn and feeling rested, he rose and dressed himself. Putting on his cloak he stepped outside and looked over to Alexander's tent.

He could not remember how long it had been since he shared Alexander's bed. He was sought out to build bridges, no longer sought out to satisfy Alexander's physical needs. Hephaistion sighed. He had needs of his own.

He felt the knife go deeper into his heart, felt it turn a little. Cassander had been right. The nights were cold now.

Lost in thought, he was surprised to see Alexander emerge from his tent, fully dressed, and head for the cavalry horses.

Hephaistion followed, to see Alexander take a javelin, then a horse, before leaping on it and heading off at a gallop for the distant hills. Without a thought, Hephaistion ran for another horse and took it, mounting up and then also taking a javelin, he took off after Alexander. It was not yet fully light and Alexander had been engulfed in the darkness.

Hephaistion headed in the general direction Alexander had gone, pausing occasionally to listen for him. He turned back to look on the camp, a long way off now, campfires just specks in the distance. There was no sign of any activity; they had made their getaway without causing any attention.

He pushed his horse forward, guiding it across a stream and up along a narrow track, into woodland. Halting again, he listened once more. Still nothing. It was growing lighter; soon he might be able to see Alexander.

In the distance a horse called out. Cavalry horses were not used to being alone, Alexander's horse was calling to its companions. Hephaistion's horse snorted gently in reply, but left Hephaistion to guide it towards the call.

Hephaistion chose a different track, pushing his horse up a steep bank, leaning forward to avoid low branches from the trees. As he straightened up and turned a bend he saw Alexander, sword at the ready, waiting for him.

"Alexander! This is a stupid thing to be doing. What are you doing? Hunting?"

Alexander glared at Hephaistion, sheathed his sword and then turned and continued along the track, away from camp.

"Alexander! Come back! If you want to hunt, we will, but let us go back first, you have no guard and we do not know this country, the tribes who inhabit it."

Alexander made no move to stop and so, unwillingly, Hephaistion pushed his horse forward to follow. Alexander stopped then; wheeling his horse around he pointed at Hephaistion and then signalled for him to go back.

"No," said Hephaistion. "I won't let you go alone. This is foolish, Alexander. We're both in danger if we stay out here, but I won't let you go alone."

Again, Alexander signalled for him to go back. When Hephaistion made no move, Alexander wheeled his horse around once more and galloped off, no doubt hoping to lose Hephaistion.

The fates were kind; they had given Hephaistion the fastest and most sure-footed of the two horses. He easily kept pace with Alexander, but Alexander's horse struggled across the terrain and stumbled on the uneven ground, pitching Alexander forward and down a steep bank. He rolled out of sight, through bushes.

Hephaistion leapt off his horse and ran down the bank, to find that Alexander had rolled into a muddy ditch. He was just pulling himself out of it when Hephaistion arrived. He looked such a sight, covered in mud, that Hephaistion couldn't help but laugh. Alexander's face erupted in anger and he punched out at Hephaistion, who quickly ducked and avoided the blow.

Hephaistion stepped forward, grabbing at Alexander's arms to prevent any further strikes. As Alexander struggled, he fell backwards on the slippery surface, pulling Hephaistion down on top of him.

Hephaistion held Alexander's arms above him. "It's not my fault," he soothed. "Don't blame me, it's not my fault."

Alexander was breathing hard, he struggled to get up, and Hephaistion released him, offering his hand to help him. Alexander refused it; he began to climb up the bank, back to his horse.

Hephaistion felt the knife turn a little more. He went to follow Alexander when he suddenly heard a cry and the clash of steel. He reached for his sword before he realised he did not have it, just his dagger. It would have to be enough. He reached for it and ran up the bank to see Alexander fending off three men, one man already on the ground. Dead. Another five, six, seven, eight men were running through the trees towards them.

Hephaistion took the sword from the dead man, it's weight felt uncomfortable, the balance not right, but it did the job and killed the first man who came within striking distance. He glanced to Alexander, to see another man fall, but more men were coming, they were outnumbered.

Hephaistion had his own fight to win. He had to concentrate on it to stay alive. He took down another two, before the sword broke in his hand. He looked for another, but his opponents forced him back, so that all he had was the dagger.

Thinking that he would be killed, he looked to Alexander, wanting to steal a final moment. Alexander had seen what was happening and had surrendered, throwing down his sword and locking eyes with Hephaistion.

They were to be taken prisoner. A man stepped forward with rope to tie Hephaistion's hands behind him. Another stepped up to Alexander, but as he took Alexander's hands, Alexander fought him. He was beaten down for his resistance.

"No! Leave him!" cried Hephaistion, fighting free and running to Alexander, shielding him with his body.

Hephaistion was pulled away, his hands tied. "You must do what they want," he said to Alexander. "Do what you must to stay alive."

Hephaistion was pulled away from Alexander; he struggled to stay with him, seeing Alexander pulled to his feet. Blood was running down the side of Alexander's face, mixing with the wet mud already there.

Their captors shouted out and small native ponies were brought up. Hephaistion was lifted up onto the back of one of them, its reins brought over its head. They had done the same with Alexander. The bodies of their fallen comrades were unceremoniously rolled down the bank, into the mud, before they set off.

There was some excitement, a couple of the men galloped past Hephaistion, laughing, calling out to the others. Hephaistion looked back. They had Alexander further down the line. He struggled to see him as the ponies headed into the hills.

If these men knew who they had captured, but Alexander looked a sight, covered in mud and blood. Hephaistion thanked the Gods for that. He was grateful that Alexander could not speak, for the moment. Although he would have had the sense not to give away his identity, Alexander spoke like a king.

Hephaistion looked ahead, trying to see where they were going, to check the terrain and see if they would leave a clear enough trail for the scouts to follow. He began to doubt that the Gods were with them, when it began to snow, the flakes settling, to cover whatever tracks they left behind.

The ponies were sure-footed; the men knew the way, even with the snow almost blinding them. They were making good time, away from Alexander's army, to the safety of the valley beyond the mountains.

Roxanne had a habit of sleeping late. The guards would assume that Alexander was with her. If she woke to find herself alone, she would assume that Alexander was still in the camp. Hephaistion sighed. There would be no search party until Roxanne rose at mid-day, and then they would have no way to follow them, no idea of which direction to head.

He looked back, once more, just able to see Alexander. A group of tribesmen had gathered around him, riding alongside the pony Alexander had been placed on. They were jeering at him, trying to make him react, but Alexander looked down and did not retaliate.

Hephaistion listened to the men talk. He'd grown accustomed to picking up new dialects, learning new languages. He thought he could understand some words, but if they were right, then they did not make sense. Watching their body language, they were confident, aggressive and harsh.

One of the men shouted, pointing to a rocky, snow-covered outcrop. This encouraged them to push the ponies forward, cantering on along an unseen track. Hephaistion heard a low rumble, and realised that there was going to be a landslide. More shouts went up, Hephaistion was overtaken by a group of riders, making their own way to safety. One of them led Alexander. Hephaistion pushed his pony forward, not daring to look back as rocks began to fall.

The noise was louder than thunder. The men, judging they had reached safety, turned to watch as the rocks closed the track behind them. They were laughing, talking amongst themselves and pointing back to the way they had just come.

Hephaistion looked and made eye contact with Alexander. Fresh blood still trickled down his face; he looked pale. Snow clung to his clothing, to his hair and he shivered a little against the cold. "I hate to say I told you so," said Hephaistion, smiling a little, as if their situation were not that bad.

He was hit across the back for his trouble. The man leading his pony, obviously objected to him speaking, and struck him with a stick he had been using on the pony.

They were led along again. This time Alexander was in front of Hephaistion. The snow seemed endless. Hephaistion tried to judge how long they had been on the move, surely the morning had gone by now. He looked up, trying to locate the sun, but it was lost in the snow clouds.

His mind drifted back to a time when the sun had been hot. When he and Alexander had endless days at Pella, dreaming of adventure and glory. Days when they had discovered each other. Alexander seemed so carefree then, they had never stopped to think how the years might change them, what that power might do.

He thought of those days a lot recently. He craved to go back and live them again. He held the memories in his heart, he could still hear Alexander's laughter, hear his words as he declared his love, feel the touch of his skin, smell the scent that was Alexander…always Alexander.

It was not Alexander's fault, a powerful king would always attract sycophants…but…Hephaistion always hoped that Alexander would still reach for him, seek him out. That the laughter and the carefree days could still be found amongst it all. He looked to Alexander and wondered if he thought of Bagoas.

They began to head down from the mountains, the ponies slowing up as they searched for a firm foothold. The man with the stick was keen to keep the ponies close to a wall of rock. Hephaistion could see why, there was a sheer drop just a couple of paces away.

The men shouted back and forth to each other, there was some laughter, they were relaxed, they were coming home. As the path went wider a village appeared. Hephaistion's attention was drawn to stakes, driven in the ground, each with a head in various stages of decomposition on it. A warning, to anyone who might attack. Hephaistion looked to Alexander; here, they had captive the very man who would not fear to attack.

Men, women and children came to greet the men, curious as to who their prisoners were. The men were just as eager to tell them, cutting imaginary swords through the air and pointing back across the mountain. Some cries went up, possibly for the men who would not be returning.

The ponies continued through the village, almost to the outskirts on the far side, where a small wooden stockade was located. This was to be their prison. It had four sides to it, with one far corner having some animal skins around and above it to give some shelter. Wooden beams enclosed the top of it and damp straw was on the floor of it.

Alexander and Hephaistion were pulled from the ponies and pushed roughly inside, their ropes cut before the door to the stockade was closed and bolted. The men stood around for a while, but then walked off, heading for a large building, some sort of communal hall in the centre of the village.

Alexander walked around the stockade, searching for a way out, but it was solidly built. Hephaistion shook the snow off his clothing and wrapped his cloak around himself. "Do you think they are searching for us, by now, Alexander?" Hephaistion asked.

Alexander looked at him, giving a nod in answer.

"So, what are the chances that anyone will know where to look?"

This time Alexander shook his head in reply. He winced a little and sat down in the sheltered corner.

"Here, let me see," said Hephaistion, kneeling down and examining Alexander's head wound. It was still bleeding a little. He ripped a strip of embroidery from his cloak and packed some snow in it before holding it up to Alexander's head. "It is the best I can do," he said, when Alexander flinched.

Hephaistion looked up at the sky, it was full of snow. He could make out the sun, pale in the winter sky and judged it to be mid-afternoon. "I don't think any guards saw us leave camp this morning. After all, they are on the lookout for men coming into camp, not out of it. There are endless possibilities to where we could have gone, a search could take days, if not weeks."

Alexander put his hand up to Hephaistion's wrist. He had had enough nursing for now; he wanted to stop the ministrations. Hephaistion relented and sat down beside Alexander. As they looked towards the village, they saw two riders heading out at speed.

"If you had to go hunting, why go alone, Alexander?" Hephaistion asked, turning to his friend. "It was still dark, could you not wait until morning and take your guard? Your friends?"

Alexander looked down and shook his head, then winced again as it obviously pained him.

"Well, we are in trouble," sighed Hephaistion, wrapping his hands into his cloak in an attempt to keep them warm.

Alexander nudged him and pointed. Three men were on their way back to the stockade. One of them held timber, the other a burning torch, and the third a small metal pail. The first one dropped the timber, kicking it into place. Then the second placed the burning torch into the centre of it, crouching down to tend to the fire until it took hold. The third, finally came over to the stockade, and placed the pail between the wooden posts, staring at Alexander and Hephaistion with fascination.

"Our guards and supper appear to have arrived," said Hephaistion, standing up to fetch the pail. It contained a wet mix of grain, cold to the touch. "I think even my horse would object to this," he said, bringing the pail over to Alexander and sitting back down beside him. "There are no spoons, if we want to eat it looks as though we will have to use our hands." Hephaistion offered the pail to Alexander but he made no attempt to eat.

"We have to keep our strength," whispered Hephaistion, reaching in to take a small handful and tentatively eating it. "It is not too bad."

Alexander looked at Hephaistion with some exasperation, then followed his example and ate some of the grain.

"We had worse when we were in exile," smiled Hephaistion. "Like the water rat you caught and had me roast. There was hardly any meat on its bones and it tasted so bad you were sick right after."

Alexander smiled and pointed to Hephaistion.

"Yes, I was sick as well, but not as much as you, A…" Hephaistion hesitated, looking to their guards. Alexander's name would be known in any tongue, he had almost given his friend away. He smiled, once more. "Well, at least you caught the rat. The winter was hard and game was scarce and back then we would have thought this wet grain a feast." Hephaistion took another mouthful of grain.

Alexander hesitated, and then took another scoop for himself. He was looking around the stockade, still not convinced it was so secure. Hephaistion smiled, he had seen Alexander like this on so many battlefields, weighing up the options, coming up with a plan. He looked like a beggar, not a king; the mud still clung to his face and clothes, despite the snow.

"Bagoas wouldn't recognise you," Hephaistion said.

Alexander made a half-hearted attempt to wipe the mud from his tunic, then cleaned his hand in the damp straw, before taking another mouthful of grain. He looked over to the three guards, now talking quietly amongst themselves. The men were wrapped in fur, snug from the snow, which was now reduced to occasional flurries.

It was getting dark, daylight giving way to the firelight. Alexander signalled for Hephaistion to remove his cloak. He removed his own and then they huddled up for warmth under the cover of the two damp cloaks. It was another memory of their time in exile, only then, they would make love, not just share the warmth of their bodies.

Hephaistion was quiet, lost in his own memories. In his mind he could hear all the endearments Alexander had ever said. He had stored them up for the cold winter nights, for when Alexander took a wife…another lover. He had always known it would happen, but back then, when Alexander could not get enough of him, he could not imagine a time when he would ever feel so alone.

Alexander's arm suddenly embraced him, and Hephaistion tentatively reciprocated.

He wished that Alexander could speak, so that he could ask him what had gone wrong between them, why they had drifted apart. But with Alexander mute, Hephaistion bit his lip and kept silent too.

It grew darker, and colder. Hephaistion propped himself up on one elbow and looked down towards the village. Torches had been lit, and by their light he could see villagers going about their business. He lay back down, feeling the warmth offered by Alexander's body, sighing gently, he moved close against him and huddled under the cloaks.

It was a long night. Hephaistion was not sure if he slept at all. Alexander had, he had listened to his gentle breaths for a while, knowing he was asleep. The guards had gone quiet at some point, although they stayed alert, he could hear them tending to the fire or moving around. He felt rested enough, so perhaps he had been able to sleep.

It was growing light and Hephaistion stretched himself and saw that Alexander was looking at him.

"How are you feeling?" Hephaistion asked, lifting his hand and pointing to his throat.

Alexander tried to speak, then frowned in frustration as no sound came out. He sat up and moved against the wooden posts, behind him, to lean on them. Hephaistion followed his lead, looking down to the village, noting that it had finally stopped snowing and all was still.

The guards were asleep, their fire almost out. Alexander quietly stood up and went over to the doorway, reaching through the gap to explore the bolt. Giving up on the possibility of opening it, he took another walk around the small enclose, pushing at the beams above him, that held them prisoner. They would not give. He frowned over at Hephaistion, then reached through the posts to take a handful of fresh snow.

Offering some to Hephaistion, he ate the rest, holding it in his mouth until it melted.

He sat back down beside Hephaistion and wrapped the cloaks about himself. Watching with Hephaistion as the village came to life.

One of the guards woke up and nudged the others until they awoke too. They all turned to check their prisoners, talking amongst themselves and laughing.

"I wonder if they know?" said Hephaistion, causing a guard to look at him.

Alexander shook his head.

The guard stepped forward and spoke directly to Alexander. What he said must have been a joke as the other men laughed. Alexander stared at the man, who was obviously joking that he was mute. Alexander tried to speak, his temper roused, but Hephaistion put his hand across his chest and urged him to ignore the guard.

Alexander looked down, breaking eye contact. Hephaistion took his hand, under the cloak, and squeezed it, offering his support.

When the guard got no response, he turned back to his comrades, and then all three of them headed to the village. They watched them go, they were heading for the communal hall, calling out to friends before disappearing inside.

Hephaistion still held Alexander's hand, he rubbed against it with his thumb, feeling the callouses where Alexander held his sword. Suddenly conscious of what he was doing, he stopped. Alexander looked at him, then reached up to caress his face.

Hephaistion pulled away, freeing his hand as he did so. He looked away, anywhere but at Alexander. He felt Alexander put his hand on his shoulder, but he could not respond or speak. If he did the pain would surface. He knew he would speak of rejection, hurt, tears and lonely nights; that he would lay the blame on Alexander for choosing Roxanne, for taking Bagoas. Now was not the time, there would never be a time. Alexander's hand squeezed his shoulder and then let him go.

Hephaistion looked over at the embers of the guards fire. During the night he imagined he could feel the warmth from it, now, untended, it would soon be gone and he knew he would feel the cold even more. He pulled up his legs and put his hands under his knees to keep them warm. He felt as if he should break the silence, but did not know what to say, so he sat with Alexander, watching and waiting.

"I wonder how long they will keep us here," he said eventually, keeping his eyes focused on some children at play. "They must intend us for something or we would already be dead." He glanced at Alexander; he too was looking at the children.

Hephaistion stood up, folding his arms across his chest to keep warm. He stomped his feet and leaned against a wooden post, resting his head against it. The sky looked full of snow, dark grey clouds seeming to come from the mountains. A child screamed, making Hephaistion look over. It was just play, the child had lost a mock sword fight, he fell under a stake bearing a well-rotted head, but gave it no thought as he picked himself up and ran after his friends. They were a war-like tribe. If they thought to kill Alexander they would have to deal with him first. Did not Patroclus die before Achilles after all? Hephaistion smiled, remembering the eve of Gaugamela when he teased Alexander with those words. So long ago since Alexander vowed to follow him in death.

Riders arrived at speed in the village. Alexander stood up and came over to Hephaistion to see who they were. Three seemed to be members of the tribe; two more were dressed in Persian style. They were obviously known in the village by the way they were greeted.

"Perhaps they are merchants," Hephaistion wondered out loud. Then several pointed over to the stockade and the Persians came over. "Yes, merchants," said Hephaistion. He turned to Alexander. "Perhaps we are to be sold."

As the Persian men walked up to the stockade, a crowd gathered around them, taking an interest in their arrival and what they would do. There was a lot of shouting and gesturing, women and children as well as the men, pushing each other for the best position to see what would happen.

One of the Persians was tall and angular in appearance; he looked intelligent. Whereas, in comparison, the other was large and muscle-bound, with a scar running across his face. They studied Alexander and Hephaistion in silence, while the crowd around them kept up a constant stream of chatter. One tribesman stepped forward and pointed at Hephaistion, pushing the Persians into action.

They gave orders and then spears were used to part Alexander and Hephaistion.

The door was opened and five men came through it, the two men and another three holding swords. The stocky man grabbed Hephaistion by the hair, pulling his head back then grabbing his tunic to hold his head back. "They say you are the one who talks," the tall Persian said, in perfect Greek, spitting in Hephaistion's face as he did so. "They want answers, they sent for me to get them."

Alexander struggled forward to aid Hephaistion, but was pushed back by one guard before another held his sword at his throat.

Hephaistion was dragged from the prison, pushed forward, then once more his hair was grabbed and he was pulled back and turned to face Alexander.

"Remember," Hephaistion said, reaching his hand out to Alexander. Before they could connect he was spun around, the crowd blocking him from Alexander's sight, as he was led away.

The door to the stockade was bolted, the guard who bolted it running after the crowd, as if he were afraid of missing something.

Alexander moved to the far side of the stockade, so he was able to see Hephaistion. They were still holding him firmly. While Alexander watched, Hephaistion fought back, momentarily breaking free, before the large Persian held him again.

As if to punish him, Hephaistion was dragged over to a horse trough and his head was forcibly held under the water. Alexander saw Hephaistion struggle, but then the crowd blocked his view. He slammed his hands against the wooden posts, wanting to run to Hephaistion. If they killed him… What if they killed him?

Alexander found his voice. "I am Alexander," he said, "I am Alexander." It would not carry, he could not be heard from so far, above the crowd.

The crowd parted. Hephaistion was pulled up from the water. He was still alive. He was dragged into the communal hall and from Alexander's sight.

Alexander span around in frustration, hurriedly searching for a way out, checking the bolt, trying to lift the beams above him. Nothing would give; it was too well built. He looked back down towards the village, all had gone quiet; everyone had disappeared inside the hall.

Hephaistion had asked him to remember. Surely he meant their times together, to remember him. Alexander slumped back down to the floor, wrapping the cloaks around his legs. He did not need to remember, Hephaistion was as much a part of him as breathing; he would struggle to remember a time when Hephaistion had not been a part of his life. And if recently…if recently he had not seen so much of him, if he appeared to favour Bagoas, if he had hurt Hephaistion by choosing Roxanne…

Alexander awoke to the realisation of how much he had hurt Hephaistion by his actions. He'd been too caught up to notice, he'd assumed that Hephaistion was happy with all they had achieved, when all Hephaistion had ever cared about was being with him…nothing else.

Alexander looked towards the hall, knowing they were torturing Hephaistion for what he knew, knowing he would die before he betrayed him. He gave a bitter smile. Roxanne would have given him up the moment they were captured and Bagoas…he would have been politic, charming his captors with stories of Alexander while having warm clothes brought to him and getting to sit by the fire.

His eyes fixed on the hall, as if by will alone he could support Hephaistion on what he was going through. Some children ran inside, shouts were heard, and then all grew quiet again. When it was quiet, Alexander listened to see if the wind would carry Hephaistion's voice to him. If they killed him, what would he do? He prayed to Zeus to protect his friend, his lover.

His lover. How long had it been since he had lain with Hephaistion? He had not thought of it, but then he remembered the pain in Hephaistion's eyes on nights when he chose Bagoas. It was since Roxanne, since his marriage. It was easier to take Bagoas and not have to look into Hephaistion's blue eyes and know he caused them pain, but now he knew he'd done that every time he called for the eunuch.

He had tortured Hephaistion himself, unknowingly. The one person he could trust, that he valued…loved…above all others, above everything. Tears stung Alexander's eyes, he prayed that he would be given the chance to make it right.

It seemed like an eternity until the doors to the hall opened. Women and children emerged from it first, the children running off to play, echoing what had they had witnessed, twisting each other's arms, kicking at each other.

Alexander stood, he could see into the darkness of the hall, but he could not see Hephaistion. The two Persians appeared and went off laughing with two of the tribe, the tall one looking back over his shoulder as the guards came out, with Hephaistion.

He was hardly able to walk without support, his hair was dishevelled and he supported his left arm, but he was alive. Alexander wanted to run to him. Hephaistion looked up at a head on a stake, then looked at Alexander and smiled a little. Alexander smiled back, proud that they could not break Hephaistion's spirit.

Alexander stood back while the door was unbolted, and Hephaistion was pushed through it. He stepped forward to catch his friend, helping him over to the shelter, sitting him down and covering him with the cloaks.

The guards spoke, but Alexander ignored them as he checked Hephaistion. He appeared relatively unscathed, but stopped Alexander from lifting his tunic to examine further.

"I am just bruised," he said, watching the guards as they headed back to the village.

Hephaistion's hair was still damp, his tunic too. Alexander held him close to try to warm him, he felt Hephaistion relax against him, taking comfort.

"They know your army is here, they wanted to hear what your plans were. They saw the bridge, but wanted to know if you would stay and fight the tribes here. The men who captured us were on their way to spy on the camp, they have also been waiting for your arrival, Alexander." Hephaistion groaned and slowly turned himself to get more comfortable. "They know we came from the camp. I tried to tell them we were merchants, they did not believe that." He smiled. "But they believed that I was a soldier and you were my servant. They believed that you were running away, that I was fetching you back. Anyway, we got the best result we could. The Persians, they are merchants, they will take you with them when they leave in the morning. You should have a chance to escape, Alexander." Hephaistion laughed, then winced in pain.

"And you, Hephaistion?" Alexander whispered.

Hephaistion looked up, smiling. "You have your voice," he said.

Alexander nodded.

"I am staying here," Hephaistion replied. "There is some merit in capturing a soldier of Alexander's army…even if he only builds bridges," added Hephaistion.

"You are my love...my life," replied Alexander.

Hephaistion's reaction was different to the one that Alexander expected. He struggled to move away from him.

"I'm going to be sick," Hephaistion managed to say, as he moved to the far corner of the stockade.

Alexander followed him, wrapping his arm around Hephaistion's shoulder and holding his hair back as he wretched. Alexander's arm moved down Hephaistion's back, he could not resist cautiously lifting the tunic to see the damage done. He caught sight of red markings that would turn to bruises and two cuts made by a knife being run across Hephaistion's body.

Hephaistion pulled his tunic down, stopping Alexander from seeing more. "It did not hurt," he smiled. "Your father's beatings used to cause more pain." He pulled a face and put his hand up to his stomach, not sure if he would be sick again, or not.

"You're a bad liar, Hephaistion," whispered Alexander, smoothing Hephaistion's hair and moving in close to him. "How bad was it?" he asked.

Hephaistion looked to the ground. "Bad enough," he replied.

"What will they do with you?" Alexander asked.

Hephaistion shrugged his shoulders.

Alexander embraced his friend. "I will come back for you, Hephaistion, I promise you that." He pulled back to see tears in Hephaistion's eyes, and then held him close again, pressing his body against him in an effort to take away the pain. "Things will be different then, you'll see," he whispered.

Hephaistion shivered, and allowed himself to be led back to the shelter and what warmth the two cloaks offered them. Alexander held him close, there was no need for words, Hephaistion was worried that Alexander would lose his voice if he spoke for too long. He moved himself in Alexander's embrace, so that he was as comfortable as he could be. There had been a moment in the hall when he thought he would not be with Alexander again.

The two Persians appeared with the two tribesmen and walked over to the stockade. Alexander held Hephaistion tighter, not willing to let him be taken again. He felt Hephaistion's body go tense, as the men got closer.

"Say nothing," Hephaistion whispered.

The four men were having a discussion. The Persians had a good look at Alexander, calling to him in Greek, smiling as they saw the recognition, of what they said, in Alexander's eyes.

"You know you are coming with us?" asked the tall Persian. "Obey us, and we will treat you well."

Alexander nodded. He had no intention of being with them any longer than he had to.

The tall Persian smiled, then looked at Hephaistion. "We have tried to make them change their minds on what they plan for you. We asked if we could have you too," he said, and then frowned a little. "They worship their God. There is nothing we can do. Tomorrow, when the sun reaches the top of the mountain…" he sliced his hand across his neck, then turned, laughing, to look at the heads on stakes, before heading back to the village.

Alexander went to speak, but Hephaistion held his hand across his mouth. "No, Alexander," he hissed. "What are you planning to do? Tell them you are Alexander? They will kill you. They will kill you right away and that won't save me. Let me save you, Alexander. Let me do that for you."

Alexander shook his head, tears in his eyes. He grasped Hephaistion's shoulders. "No, Hephaistion. I cannot lose you."

"You are everything to me, Alexander," Hephaistion said, tears in his own eyes. "I am not afraid of death. One day we will be reunited."

"We live or die together, Hephaistion," replied Alexander, he turned to look towards the village. "We leave together or not at all."

Hephaistion gripped the sleeves of Alexander's tunic, he laughed a little. "I was afraid you would be like this." He looked back to the mountain. "Do you suppose they are any closer to finding us?"

Alexander went to reply, but his new found voice gave out.

"Rest, Alexander. Be quiet and rest," soothed Hephaistion, pulling Alexander into his arms. He straightened the cloaks around them, sharing the warmth. "Do you know how much I hate building bridges?" he asked, continuing without waiting for an answer. "I only ever enjoyed building one bridge. The one across the Euphrates, on the way to Gaugamela…where Mazeus appeared on the opposite side, with the Greek mercenaries. I couldn't complete it with him there, but I managed to win him to our side. Remember? He left the battle, right at the time he could have destroyed us, and headed for Babylon to meet you there?"

Hephaistion sighed. "I don't know what would have happened if he had not have left. Perhaps we would all be sitting in Hades wondering what might have been. Then maybe not. I've always had faith in you, Alexander, I think we would have won no matter what the odds." He moved closer to Alexander. "I have missed this. Even sitting so close to death, cold and hungry, I would choose to be nowhere else right now, than by your side. I don't care for Roxanne, Alexander. She is too much like your mother, and she always hated me…for loving you." He looked down. "And while I am confessing my thoughts, I envy Bagoas, he has taken my place."

Alexander took Hephaistion's hand and squeezed it tightly. He stared into Hephaistion's eyes, shaking his head fervently. "Never," he managed to say, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on Hephaistion's lips.

Hephaistion rested his forehead against Alexander's. "I miss you, Alexander. I miss you every day."

Music came from the village, the pulsing beat of pipes and drums. Alexander and Hephaistion looked to see the guards approaching, carrying another pail of food. They had been drinking, in the warmth of the hall, and shivered in their furs, stomping their feet and encouraging each other to hurry. They quickly placed the pail between the posts, and then hastened back to the celebrations taking place.

Alexander reached for the pail, looking inside it and pulling a face. Once again, they had cold, wet grain. He scooped some up in his hand to show Hephaistion, before eating some, then he offered the pail to Hephaistion, who tentatively ate some, then reached for some snow to wash it down with.

"I would love some roast chicken," Hephaistion smiled. "With some of the wine from Babylon to wash it down and a warm fire to sit by."

Alexander looked at him and laughed.

"You want the chicken too," Hephaistion grinned. "But you would prefer Nestor's cup to drink and those small cakes your old nurse used to make, to follow." Hephaistion scooped some more of the grain into his hand and ate it. "This tastes like the cakes your nurse used to make, Alexander," he joked. "She was a rotten cook and you were the only one who used to like the taste of them. I used to hide mine away, the palace dogs wouldn't take them from me, but you thought they were delicious."

Alexander began to speak, but Hephaistion held his hand up to his mouth. "Rest," he ordered. He looked down to the village, his face growing serious. He looked at Alexander. "Do you have any ideas how we can get out of here?"

Alexander shook his head.

"There are so many of them." Hephaistion looked down. "It is pointless both of us dying, Alexander. You should go with the Persians tomorrow. The tall one is clever but not a fighter. The large one is strong, violent, but he moves slowly and you could easily take him. If the army is near, then maybe there is a chance for me." He looked over to the mountain; the sun was setting behind it. "I have until mid-day, there may still be a chance you can save me, but promise me you will go tomorrow. Promise me, Alexander."

Hephaistion's eyes were so sad, Alexander could not deny him. Swallowing hard he forced the words out. "I promise."

Hephaistion smiled, his mind at ease. The pain he had had to suffer was worth it to know Alexander would be safe. He would die knowing that Alexander was safe. He lay down and Alexander lay beside him, they embraced each other for comfort and warmth, for their last night together. Hephaistion wanted to talk, to share his thoughts and memories, but he also wanted Alexander to rest his voice. Perhaps in the morning, before they parted, they could speak then.

He watched Alexander as Alexander watched him, soaking in his face, remembering their past. It grew dark, too dark to see his face, so Hephaistion nestled in against Alexander's chest. "At least there will be no more bridges to build," he whispered, closing his eyes to dream of Alexander.

He awoke with a start, not remembering where he was at first. Alexander was awake, as he felt him move his hand along his arm in a comforting motion. He opened his eyes to see the first light of dawn. He had not intended to sleep so long; he had lost precious time with Alexander.

"You should have woken me," he said, struggling up onto his elbow. His body ached from the punishment it had received; his left shoulder did not want to move at all. He stood up, needing to relieve himself. He stomped his feet and went over to the far corner, looking up at the mountain, seeing the morning light appear to frame it. It was cold; he hurried back to Alexander.

"How do you feel?" Alexander asked, his voice having grown stronger for the rest.

"I am not in any pain," Hephaistion assured him.

"Good," replied Alexander.

"Did you sleep?" Hephaistion asked.

Alexander shook his head

Hephaistion looked down towards the village. "What time did the celebrations stop?"

"Not long ago," Alexander replied. "When the music stopped, I thought you would wake, so I hummed a tune and you settled once more."

Hephaistion laughed. "I am no child to be soothed by music any more."

Alexander reached up to run his fingers through Hephaistion's hair. "I have been wishing we were children again," he said. "I would like to spend the time with you, once more. The years have gone so quickly."

Hephaistion shook his head. "They have been good years, Alexander. I do not regret anything." He hesitated. "I love you."

The early light showed tears in Alexander's eyes. "I do not deserve you, Hephaistion," he confessed, wrapping his arms about him and holding him like he would never let go.

Hephaistion broke the embrace, looking towards the village. There was movement; people were coming. He turned to Alexander. "Remember your promise to me."

From the darkness, two of the guards appeared, followed and berated by the two Persians. Alexander and Hephaistion waited, watching and listening, but no others came.

"Just four," whispered Alexander, looking to Hephaistion, who nodded back at him.

One of the guards fumbled with the bolt on the stockade, while the other stood, his hand on his dagger. The Persians were obviously impatient to be gone. Alexander stepped forward, earning a smile from the tall one. Alexander cupped his hand around Hephaistion's neck and leaned forward to kiss his lips. Hephaistion responded, opening his lips in invitation.

Their eyes were open; they saw the guards hesitate, the Persians distracted. They made their move, the guard at the gate not knowing what had happened as Alexander took his dagger from him and slit his throat. Following right behind, Hephaistion pinned the second guard, also taking his dagger and slicing through his throat, aware that any sound would rouse the village.

Alexander had felled the large Persian, using the dagger to pierce his heart. Hephaistion could not get to the tall Persian in time to stop him running, but Alexander caught up with him, pulling him down. The tall Persian cried out, a dog began to bark in the village.

Hephaistion appeared, dagger at the ready. Alexander held his hand over the Persian's mouth, his dagger to his throat. "I am Alexander of Macedon," he said. "Yesterday, you tortured Hephaistion, beloved of Alexander. I am his servant, and always shall be." The tall Persian's eyes registered the truth just as Alexander took his life."

Hephaistion touched his shoulder, encouraging Alexander to hurry. Hephaistion ran back inside the stockade and took their cloaks; while Alexander removed a sword from the guard he had killed and took a leather pouch from the one Hephaistion had killed.

Quickly glancing back to the village, the dog still barking, they began to run; intent on covering as much ground as they could before their escape was discovered.

The snow had frozen, making the going harder, but not leaving tracks that could be followed. They headed for the mountain, running along the narrow track that had led them to the village. The cold air caught in their throats, the track was steep, and the obvious route to follow as it was the only one they knew. Several dogs were now barking, the noise sounding more and more distant as they covered ground.

Alexander looked back to Hephaistion, worried that his injuries might slow him down. But Hephaistion was strong, and Alexander felt pride in his friend as he saw he was matching him stride for stride. The track was treacherous, the rock now icy beneath their feet. They both used the rock wall to steady themselves.

Finally, expecting the tribesmen to gallop up behind them at any minute, they came to open ground. They hesitated for a moment, not sure of which direction to head. Alexander pointed to some trees, which would give moderate cover. It felt good to be free; they just had to stay free.

Reaching the shelter of the trees, they paused a while, listening for any sound that they were being followed. Hephaistion handed Alexander his cloak, which he put on, while Hephaistion secured his own about him. Alexander placed the sword in his belt, and then tied the leather pouch to the belt before securing the dagger.

"I kept my promise to you," Alexander grinned. "I went with the Persians, only they went on to Hades without me."

Hephaistion checked to see how far the sun had risen. "Any ideas which direction we should go? Trying to retrace our path here will be the first place they will look."

Alexander looked over the landscape, knowing which direction they should head, but Hephaistion was right, it would be the first place they would look. "The trees are giving us some shelter," he said. "We should stay amongst them, see how far we can get before we have to break cover." He looked back in the direction of the village. "It's getting light. Even if the dogs did not wake them, they will soon discover we have gone. We need to keep moving..." Alexander coughed; his voice was failing him.

Hephaistion took a breath, before breaking into a run. It was hard going. The snow covered broken branches, uneven ground and leaves. They would cover a greater distance over open territory, but Alexander was right, the trees offered protection.

Struggling to breath the cold air, they both slowed to a fast walk, needing the rest, before they ran again. They continued on this way, running as far as they could and then resting at a walk. Each ridge they came to they hoped to see Alexander's army searching for them.

Hephaistion took Alexander's arm to get his attention and signalled that they should hide. Dropping down a bank and leaning in close to it, they heard horses approaching, voices shouting. The tribesmen were in pursuit.

They could not see how many men had come after them, but they could hear the horse's tack jingling and the conversation of the men. They must have realised that they would take cover in the trees and followed them there.

Alexander looked at Hephaistion; he was listening intently as though he could understand them. He turned to look at Alexander, signalling that they should run and be quick about it.

Alexander pushed himself off from the bank, aware of Hephaistion following him at speed. A shout went up as they ran down a slope, through the trees. As Alexander ran past one, an arrow hit it. He zigzagged, hoping to avoid the arrows, glancing to his side to see that Hephaistion was keeping up with him. The slope was steep; they were slipping more than running, when they ran out of ground.

Thinking fast, Alexander grabbed for Hephaistion and threw himself off the rocks into the fast-flowing river below, landing hard, the breath taken from them by the coldness of the water. Alexander held on to Hephaistion, afraid they would be parted, he felt Hephaistion reach for his arm, taking a good grip on his tunic; he was thinking the same thing.

The current carried them along, safe from the tribesmen, but in danger of drowning unless they could get to the bank. The water span them round. It was Hephaistion who managed to grab hold of the branch of a solitary tree, gripping it and pulling Alexander to the side. He stayed in the water while Alexander clambered up and offered him his hand to bring him to safety. With them both out of the water, they both lay back, exhausted, coughing up the water they had swallowed, shivering with the cold.

Alexander looked around. They were on a ledge, a few feet above the water. Above them the rock formed a natural overhang, giving shelter and shielding them. To move on they would have to go back into the river, or climb the rock. He noticed a small cave, to the right, perhaps big enough for the two of them. The thought it would offer protection, got him to his feet.

He had to crouch down to get into it, but then it opened up, enough for the two of them, perhaps a little more. He went back to Hephaistion, encouraging him up. He was aware that Hephaistion had suffered yesterday, and that the river would have done his aches and pains no favours. He helped him in to the cave, removing his sodden cloak and then his own.

"It's too risky to move in daylight," Alexander said, his voice weak and croaky.

Hephaistion nodded, wiping the water from his face. "We are too visible. Even the trees are no protection. What do you suggest? That we travel at night?"

"Yes. Although we have the rocks to climb later, so we will make a move late afternoon, while we have some light." He looked at Hephaistion. "How did you know?"

"That they were coming down the slope?" Hephaistion grimaced as he tried to get comfortable on the rocky floor. "I heard the word they used as they ordered me down, yesterday. If we had stayed where we were, they would have had us by now. We had no choice but to move. They know the land, Alexander, that is their advantage." He went quiet and thought for a moment. "How late in the day do you think it is?"

Alexander knew Hephaistion was wondering if the time set for his execution was passed. Alexander was wondering if he should have gone with the Persians. If he had been able to kill them both, soon enough, he would have been able to come back for Hephaistion and they would have had food, and horses to escape on.

He remembered the pouch he had taken from the guard; he had tied it to his belt. He pulled it free and looked inside, finding meat. He smiled at Hephaistion and pulled out the joint, obviously saved for later by the guard. He would not be needing it now.

Hephaistion laughed, watching while Alexander tore it in two and handed him his share.

Looking back into the purse, Alexander found a tinder and some coins, nothing more. He held the tinder up, then disappeared outside, returning shortly with wood from the tree.

"Not that I am complaining," said Hephaistion. "But the tree did save us."

"It might save us again," replied Alexander, gathering some rocks into a circle then finding dried leaves, grass and twigs to start a small fire."

"We will probably suffocate from the smoke," said Hephaistion, looking around to see where the smoke could escape.

The fire caught almost at once. Hephaistion's fears of suffocation were proved unnecessary, as there was little smoke. Alexander checked outside to make sure it could not be seen. When he went back into the cave, it felt warm and cosy. He lay their cloaks out by the fire, threw some more wood on it and went to sit by Hephaistion, picking up his meat as he did so.

Hephaistion laughed. "A feast and a fire. What more could a man want?"

"The wine from Babylon," replied Alexander, his voice finally giving out as he said it.

So they ate in silence. The meat, although wet and cold from the river, tasted good, even if there was not enough to satisfy the hunger they both felt. The fire crackled away, warming them both.

When he had eaten, Alexander stripped off his wet clothes, draping them over the rock walls, closest to the fire. He tugged at Hephaistion's clothes.

"They are drying, Alexander," insisted Hephaistion.

Alexander would not give in. He knew why Hephaistion did not want to undress. Finally, Hephaistion pulled his boots off and reluctantly undressed.

Hephaistion's body was a mass of bruises, his body mottled by blue and yellow. The knife wounds, that Alexander had seen, were healing, but there were two more on the other side of Hephaistion's torso. Alexander put his hand up to them, but Hephaistion stopped him, by taking his hand.

"They insisted you were no servant," he explained, looking at Alexander. "They used the knife wanting me to tell the truth." He smiled. "I stuck to my story and eventually they believed me. They wanted to execute the two of us, but I told them that you hated Greeks, that you originated from Gaul. I laughed and said it would be ironic if they executed you. Then the Persians thought that you would work for them, or they could sell you for a price. That's when I knew that the pain had been worth it. That I had won. Being merchants, they managed to convince the tribesmen that I was the prize to have, that they should have you for their time and trouble."

Alexander sat down by the fire, reaching out to encourage Hephaistion to lie down by him. When he did, Alexander also lay down and spooned himself around him. Hephaistion had gone quiet. Thoughtful. Alexander rested his head on Hephaistion's shoulder and smiled. He did not realise how much he had missed this, just being with Hephaistion. He would choose him over everything. If he had to give all he had conquered to keep him, he would.

Alexander wrapped his arm around him, feeling Hephaistion reach up to take his hand and hold it tightly. The warmth, the comfort offered and the fact he had lain awake the night before, soon had him sleeping, Hephaistion joining him shortly after.

Hephaistion woke first, wondering how long they had slept. He looked over to the cave entrance and could still see light coming through it. He sat up, careful not to disturb Alexander, and reached for his clothes which were still damp. He put them on, placing the dagger back in his belt, and then went outside.

The sun was beginning to set; they would have to make a move soon. Hephaistion looked up at the rock face that Alexander wanted to climb. It was high but there seemed to be enough footholds, so it should not prove too difficult. He looked at the river, flowing quickly by; he wondered how far it had carried them. Two days had passed; surely Alexander's army would be close by now.

Going back, inside the cave, he found Alexander dressing.

"It will be getting dark soon," Hephaistion said.

Alexander nodded, saving his voice. He kicked out the fire and picked up their cloaks, handing Hephaistion his.

"Dry clothing would be nice," smiled Hephaistion. He went to lead the way from the cave, but Alexander took his hand to stop him. Turning, concerned there was a problem; he was surprised when Alexander kissed him, a loving kiss with a hint of passion. Discounting the kiss Alexander had given him as they escaped, Hephaistion could not remember the last time Alexander had shown affection like that. He opened his lips in invitation, in acceptance, feeling Alexander's tongue explore his mouth. It felt like the first kiss they ever shared. He found himself hoping it would not be the last.

When they broke apart, Hephaistion smiled, caressing Alexander's face. Alexander grinned at him, then signalled that they should go.

Hephaistion led the way out of the cave, but Alexander led the way up the rock. The wind had picked up, and it was difficult to climb with hands, which quickly lost all feeling. Finally, Alexander made it to the top, lying down and turning round to offer a hand to Hephaistion who was making slower progress.

When Hephaistion finally finished his climb, he sat beside Alexander, holding his chest, waiting for the discomfort to stop, catching his breath.

Alexander looked around, to try to get his bearings. Nothing looked familiar; the snow had hidden any landmarks as they travelled to the village. He looked up at the moon, just rising in the sky, using it to navigate. At least he knew they would be moving away from the village.

He stood up, offering a hand again to Hephaistion, who took it, allowing Alexander to pull him to his feet. Alexander looked concerned at him.

Hephaistion smiled. "I seize up when I am still. That is all. Once we get moving I will outpace you, I promise." He looked about. "Which direction?"

Alexander pointed northeast, believing that would lead to his army. Hephaistion nodded and they set off at a walk, watching and listening for any sound of the tribesmen. Despite waiting for the night, the moon shining down on the snow illuminated the area like day.

"They would have followed the river," whispered Hephaistion, afraid the wind would carry his voice. "They might assume we drowned…we could have."

"They told you they were looking for the army. If they are out here, they might look for them again," Alexander replied, his voice barely audible.

"This looks familiar," Hephaistion said, when they had walked on a little while longer. He pointed to some rocks. "This is where the landslide took place. Look, Alexander, do you remember it?"

Alexander shook his head. He had almost been caught up in it; he was too busy pushing his pony forward and hoping the man leading him would make more speed.

Hephaistion hurried ahead, finding part of the track still visible. "At least we know we are heading in the right direction," he grinned. "They cannot follow on their ponies…unless they know another route," the grin disappeared from Hephaistion's face. He knew if the tribesmen appeared now they would be as good as dead. He continued on along the track, climbing above the rocks where necessary.

The landslide had looked spectacular, but the rocks had not totally blocked the way, not for someone on foot. When they were able to look back they could see no campfires that could give away the location of the tribesmen.

It took time to wend their way along. Half the night must have been gone, by the time they reached the end of the track. They came to an open stretch of land, a plateau, which dipped away in the distance. They hesitated, both Alexander and Hephaistion knowing, without having to say it, that they would be easy targets if they were discovered crossing it.

"We have no choice," Hephaistion said, looking how far they would have to cover.

Alexander looked up at the moon, wishing it would hide behind a cloud. But the sky was clear; there would be no point in any delay. He pointed to some trees in the far distance. "Head for them," he instructed, turning to Hephaistion, seeing the trust in his eyes. He ran then, breaking cover and praying they would not be seen.

Hephaistion followed, looking over his shoulder, seeing nothing. They set a steady pace, no point sprinting when they had so far to go.

They were half way across when they heard a cry go up, carried across the land, reverberating around the mountains. They came to a halt, looking left to see thirty to forty tribesmen appear, on their ponies, raising their spears and pushing their ponies on to a gallop as they saw their quarry.

Alexander and Hephaistion looked at each other, then ran as fast as they could, knowing as they ran they would soon be cut down. Knowing if they stood their fate would be the same.

Alexander drew his sword, the thunder of the hooves getting nearer. He reached out for Hephaistion, bringing him to a halt. They would turn and fight.

As they turned, the tribesmen came to a halt, but the thunder continued.

"Look!" Hephaistion pointed; and Alexander turned to see Ptolemy's troop of two hundred men, advancing.

Ptolemy led the way. "Alexander!" he called. His men echoed his cry, hitting their javelins on their shields in jubilation at finding their king. The mountains echoed to the cries, to the name of Alexander.

Alexander looked back to the tribesmen, seeing their disbelief, their hesitancy. He raised his sword, and then dropped it, and the cavalry charged, engulfing the men who would have seen Alexander…their Alexander, dead.

Hephaistion fell back, gasping for breath and laughing with relief at the same time. Alexander followed his example, resting his elbows on his knees, watching his men do what they did best. He looked over at Hephaistion. What an adventure they had shared, and to come out of it alive, together, was the best of all.

Ptolemy rode over to them with Nichomachus. "Do you know the trouble you have caused us, Alexander?" he said. "We've been searching since we first discovered you had gone." He nodded over his shoulder, indicating his men. "They would not stop, they were desperate to find you. We found the horses, but the snow meant we could not track you, we had to hope we would locate you."

Alexander stood up. "I am grateful, Ptolemy, to you and your men. Your timing was excellent."

Ptolemy looked surprised. "When did your voice come back?"

"It comes and goes," said Hephaistion, struggling to his feet.

Ptolemy held out his hand to Alexander, helping him up behind him. Nichomachus did the same for Hephaistion. Ptolemy's men, who had been holding back, could hold back no more and cheered and sang as they made their way back to camp.

Seleucus and Perdiccas were still out searching when Alexander arrived back. Scouts were sent out to carry the good news and fetch them back. Ptolemy rode through the cheering ranks, bringing Alexander back to his tent where Roxanne and Bagoas waited.

It had been a while since Hephaistion had felt the knife in his heart, but it came back as he watched Alexander embrace Roxanne and then Bagoas. He dismounted, thanking Nichomachus for the ride. Cassander came over and embraced him, saying that he had been concerned, and then Craterus appeared and slapped him on the back.

Hephaistion looked over at Alexander, Bagoas was wrapping a warm cloak around him, ushering him inside. He turned away, heading for his own tent, soon the last three days would be like a dream. A good dream.

Men from his own troop came hurrying over, reaching out to touch him, smiling and laughing. They were relieved to see him, they had just returned from their own fruitless search and wished they had gone in the direction Ptolemy had chosen. Hephaistion thanked them, and then went into his tent.

He stood for a moment. Everything was how it was. Even the accounts still sat on the table, waiting for his attention.

He called for a bath, and then sat down while pages prepared it. One brought in a small brazier, lighting it to take away the chill. The pages chattered away to him, telling him again of when they discovered the two of them had gone, the arguments that erupted, the anger and concern. As the water was brought in, Hephaistion began to undress, glad to finally cast aside his wet clothes. A page quickly took them away.

He reached a hand back to explore the cuts. He sighed. They would leave scars. Looking down at his legs, he could see the bruises. They would fade.

The bath was ready. He stepped into it, feeling the hot water take the chill from his body. He closed his eyes, vowing never to take a hot bath for granted again. He allowed himself to slip under the water, washing his hair and face. As he surfaced, he realised how odd it felt to be alone once more.

He stayed in the bath until he felt the water growing colder. Then he stood up and reached for a towel. As he dried himself, the servants cleared the bath away. He heard a cough and turned to see that Ptolemy was there.

"Alexander's just been saying that we will stay here and seek out the tribes before we move on." Ptolemy crossed his arms and looked over at Hephaistion. "He seems in better spirits," he said.

Hephaistion raised the towel to dry his hair. "I think it is because his voice has come back. You know Alexander hates to be ill."

Ptolemy raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to him?"

Hephaistion shook his head. "He ought to rest. He has Bagoas and Roxanne to care for him." Hephaistion frowned and looked at Ptolemy. "I sound like a spoiled brat, don't I? I don't mean to. When Alexander is rested I will go and see him then." He walked over to a wooden chest and lifting the lid, selected a chiton to wear. Walking over to the brazier, he held the chiton against it, warming it, before putting it on. He was aware of Ptolemy watching him. "What is it?" he asked.

"You should go to him," Ptolemy said.

Hephaistion thought for a moment, biting his lip. "I know he cares for me. I doubted it for a long time, but now I know that the love is still there. I can live with that, Ptolemy." He put a hand up to his heart, "I can hold him here, and I can go and build his bridges, take the snide remarks from Roxanne and know he lies with Bagoas. I can go on, where I thought I could not a few days ago." He looked up at Ptolemy and smiled. "Do not worry about me."

Ptolemy sighed, and came over to Hephaistion, embracing him. "You look tired, my friend," he whispered. "I'll leave you to your rest." He stepped back, cupping the back of Hephaistion's head in his hands, then kissed his cheek before leaving.

Hephaistion looked over at the bed, remembering the damp straw and cave floor where he had been sleeping. He pulled back the furs and lay under them, placing his head on his pillow, revelling in the comfort.

He heard footsteps, and sighed, propping himself up on one elbow. This would be Cassander, then Seleucus and Perdiccas would follow, the moment they got back to camp. He would get no rest.

Alexander appeared, carrying a tray of food. Seeing Hephaistion lying in bed, he grinned, and put the tray down, burying the accounts paperwork. He came over to the bed, sitting down on it; placing his hands on either side of Hephaistion's body he leaned forward to claim a kiss.

Hephaistion kissed him back, but he was distracted by the tray of food, this clean, grinning Alexander, with no sign of Roxanne or Bagoas around him.

Alexander sat up, then fetched the tray over and placed that on the bed. There was chicken, bread, fruit and wine. He looked over at the brazier. "I ordered the brazier, I know you wanted a fire…but the wine is from Babylon," he smiled, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss.

"What are you doing here?" Hephaistion asked. "I thought you would be resting…with Roxanne, or…"

"Or Bagoas?" Alexander shook his head. "I might have made a mistake where Roxanne is concerned. Every time I lie with her all she can talk about is you."

Hephaistion smiled. "Really?"

Alexander nodded. "Really. Eat some chicken, Hephaistion." Alexander smiled. "It is a mistake to remind me of what I miss."

Hephaistion pulled a piece of chicken breast from the bone and began to eat it, while Alexander poured him wine and handed him a cup, before pouring some for himself. As he drank he pointed at the cup. "It is good, I prefer it to Nestor's cup."

Hephaistion looked at the tray. "You forgot the cakes."

"I brought fruit instead," Alexander replied. He looked down, running his hand over the fur before gazing into Hephaistion's eyes. "We had quite an adventure, didn't we?"

"Yes." Hephaistion took another piece of chicken, offering it to Alexander who took it and began to eat. "You never told me why you went hunting alone that morning," he said.

Alexander shook his head, swallowed the chicken and then drank some wine. "I had lost something, I did not know what, at first. But I have found it now…Hephaistion."

"I was always here, Alexander," Hephaistion replied, not daring to hope that things might change back to what they were.

"I do not care for Bagoas the way I care for you, Hephaistion," Alexander said, earnestly. "I married Roxanne because I needed an heir, but all these months of trying, have come to nothing, and now I can hardly bear to be with her. She is…"

"Medusa?"

Alexander grinned. "Yes. She is Medusa." He took some bread and ate it, laughing at the thought, that Hephaistion had thought the same. He looked at Hephaistion, growing suddenly serious. "If I could be with you, I would not need Bagoas…I promise you. I want things to go back to how they were. I need you, Hephaistion…only you."

"And could I stay with you?" Hephaistion asked, feeling lost and found all at the same time. Feeling the knife leave his heart. "No more building bridges."

Alexander took the tray and placed it on the floor. Hephaistion pulled back the furs to welcome Alexander home. "No more bridges," he promised, his voice failing him once more.

They needed no more words. They had found each other – building a bridge back to each other's heart.

THE END