Going home by Kizzykat
The tears took a long time to come. Hephaestion sat on his heels in the straw in the small shed the kennel master kept for nursing bitches, cradling his dog's head in his lap. His dog was dead. His best friend was gone.
He had a proper name, Peritas. But he'd always just been Dog to Hephaestion, an enormous part of his world, inextricably part of his earliest memories. And now there was just a great big hole where Dog should be. A nothingness.
Hephaestion smoothed his hand over the blood-stained side of Dog's big head. It was still warm. He tried not to look at the gaping flesh of the wound in Dog's throat that had killed him.
One of the stupid kennel boys had let him in with the king's prized boar hounds and they had killed the old dog because he wasn't one of their pack.
The kennel master and his assistant had gone into the dog pen with sticks when they'd heard the uproar of the dogs fighting, and the kennel master had dragged Dog out. He'd carried Dog into the shed and sent one of the terrified lads to fetch Hephaestion. Hephaestion had run at full pelt from the palace, but Dog was dead by the time he got there.
The kennel master had been angry and distressed at the waste of a good dog's life. It reflected badly on his mastery, and he didn't like to see a boy lose his pet when it could have been avoided. He had stood beside Hephaestion in the low, dim shed, swearing he would beat the boy responsible within an inch of his life, trying to offer some consolation to Hephaestion.
Hephaestion had not been aware of what the man was saying as he stood looking down at Dog, trying to believe that it really was Dog, knowing already that he was dead, even though his eyes were closed as if he were asleep. A tiny part of him felt for the kennel master's distress, but he had nothing to spare for him as he had dropped to his knees beside Dog's unmoving body.
"Dog?" he had said hoarsely, touching the big rough head.
Dog did not respond and, edging forward, Hephaestion had lifted the heavy head, limp on the thick neck, to lay Dog's head in his lap.
"Take your time, boy," the kennel master had said gruffly. "Come find me when you're done." Then he had left Hephaestion alone with his grief.
Hephaestion had fondled Dog's massive head and stroked the thick muscles on Dog's shoulders, willing him to start breathing again. But there were too many bloody rents in his fur. There was too much blood on the straw and the kennel master's tunic. But his throat had been ripped out. That was what had killed him. There was a big piece of flesh missing. Dog had just been too old and too outnumbered.
Hephaestion's eyes filled with tears. Why hadn't he been there? He had let Dog down and not been there to help him. And Dog had died alone. Without him.
Tears ran down Hephaestion's cheeks, melting the raw numbness filling his soul, releasing a sob from his chest. He wept then, bowed over Dog's head, holding on to one of Dog's lifeless big front paws as his heart was torn from his breast.
He should have left him at home, he should never have brought him here, but he had been foolish and sentimental. His mother had suggested she take Dog home when she left Pella, but Hephaestion had hesitated, the incipient fear of loneliness in his eyes. Alexander had said, a little too loudly, that it would be alright for Dog to stay. Hephaestion's mother had allowed herself to be persuaded.
Hephaestion laid his hand gently on Dog's velvety ear one last time, bent his head and pressed his lips to Dog's rough head. He gently eased himself out from under Dog, laying his lolling head carefully down on the straw. For a moment he stood and looked down at what had once been Dog, wiping at his eyes. Then he walked quickly from the shed, not thinking of anything, but vaguely aware he would have to do something with the body.
The kennel master pushed off from the nearby wall, startling him slightly.
He looked down at Hephaestion. "Do you want to bury or burn him?" he asked tersely.
Hephaestion wanted to take Dog home to bury, but he knew that was impractical. He had no way of getting Dog all the way home, and Hephaestion couldn't even pick him up, let alone carry him.
"Burn," he said, his voice strained.
Something might dig him up if he buried Dog, eat him and scatter his bones. At least if he was burnt, he would know that he hadn't been fed to the dogs who had killed him.
"Come," the kennel master said. "I've got a bonfire going."
He went into the shed and, one arm under Dog's haunches and the other under his chest, picked the dead weight up. Hephaestion tried to help, but the kennel master said roughly, "I've got him."
He pushed past Hephaestion, who followed after, ineffectually reaching a hand to still Dog's loosely hanging head. The kennel master carried Dog outside the kennel walls where he had lit a bonfire of broken wood on top of a muck heap. He looked at Hephaestion, who laid a hand one last time on Dog's bristly muzzle and dry nose. Then the kennel master laid Dog down, caught hold of his front paws and dragged him into the fire. Quickly, he stepped down from the muck heap, collected more wood and began laying it in the fire on top of Dog. Hephaestion moved to help, trying not to look at the pale fire blackening the fur on Dog's legs and belly.
He stepped back, the kennel master beside him, watching, every muscle in his body clenched as the flames reddened and black smoke began to rise as Dog caught fire.
After a few moments, the kennel master moved and said, "Come away, boy. It's done now."
"No," Hephaestion said. He wasn't leaving until he was quite sure Dog was gone and there was nothing else anyone could do to him. So he stood there, aching so badly he wasn't aware of the pain as Dog burned away and a terrible stench filled the air with black smoke.
Eventually, the kennel master unfolded his arms, laid his hand on Hephaestion's shoulder and turned him away from the bonfire. "Enough, boy," he said. "Go. I will finish up here."
Hephaestion stood there stiffly for a moment, his soul and his body disjointed because he hurt so much. He moved, feeling sick. "Don't hurt him too much," he said, meaning the kennel lad who had let Dog in with the pack.
"I won't lay hand on him while I'm angry," the kennel master said, picking up a rake and beginning to drag the edges of the bonfire together. Hephaestion could see Dog's pelvis and thighbones, stripped of flesh, through the shimmering flames and ash. "He will take his punishment or go," the kennel master said. He leant on the rake and looked at Hephaestion. "He's no use to me if he doesn't love the dogs. You need to love them to take care of them properly."
"Dog was always trying to get in with the other dogs," Hephaestion said by way of expiation.
"Aye, he wanted to prove he was master of them. The king will get brave blood in his pack from your Dog when the two bitches birth his pups."
Hephaestion, whose eyes had burnt dry, felt them fill with tears. He ducked his head and turned away hastily lest he should disgrace himself and Dog.
He walked back to the palace, with a sense of urgency, as though he had something he had to do straight away before his nerve failed. Unwaveringly, he went to his tiny room and began stuffing his belongings into a drawstring bag. He ignored the heavier things like boots and his practice weapons, slung the bag over his shoulder and turned away from the bed, laying his hand on the latch of the room.
His eyes fell on the gouges at the bottom of the door where Dog had tried to follow him. Hephaestion had shut him in there while he went to master Leonidas's classroom, but Dog had made so much noise howling and scratching the door to get out, that Alexander had suggested they take him down to the kennels.
Hephaestion, staring blindly at the scratches in the wood, shut the door in his mind firmly on memory, and yanked open the door to his room. He walked resolutely through the palace courtyards towards the outer gate.
His resolve only faltered once when he looked up at the royal quarters, the royal ladies' rooms. There was a peculiar hitch in his heart. Alexander was up there. He had been up there all afternoon with his mother, whose birthday it was. It had been Hephaestion's thirteenth birthday five days ago and no one had known except himself and Dog.
Hephaestion found he had stopped, looking up, and made himself move again. Olympias had sent to find out what all the noise was when Dog had made such a row, and the maid had said that the king's wife said that dogs belonged in the kennels, not in boys' rooms. Alexander and Hephaestion had already made that decision and Alexander had hastened to reassure Hephaestion that they could fetch Dog from the kennels when they finished with Leonidas's classes for the day. Alexander had said they could take him down to the exercise field with them afterwards and let him run free. That was what they had done each day until today, when Hephaestion had been on Page duty cleaning the king's armour and Alexander had been with his mother.
Hephaestion, head down, marched on through the palace courtyard. Yet, as if his thoughts of Alexander had brought him, he heard running footsteps behind him. He didn't turn, even though he knew who it was before he heard Alexander calling his name.
"Hephaestion!" Alexander cried breathlessly, his hand on Hephaestion's arm to stop him. "I just heard about Dog! I am so sorry! Why didn't you come find me?"
Hephaestion stared unfeelingly at Alexander's wild eyes. Distress was written all over Alexander's face. Hephaestion could not deal with it. He would cry, and he did not want to cry and hurt so much any more. It was better to feel nothing. He turned away and began to walk again. "It's over," he said flatly. "He's dead."
Alexander stared at him, not understanding as Hephaestion walked away. "Where are you going?" he cried.
Hephaestion spun on his heel to face Alexander. "I am going home!" he yelled. It was easier to yell at Alexander than take his sympathy. Alexander had never known what it was to have a pet, but he had loved Dog instantly. "I never should have come here! I never should have stayed! I don't belong here, and neither did Dog!"
His voice caught on Dog's name, and he turned to march stormily away.
Stupefied, Alexander stared after him for an instant.
Then he raced after Hephaestion. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "You can't go home! You can't leave!"
"Why not?" Hephaestion's voice took on a growl. "Leave me alone and go back to your mother! I'm going home!"
Alexander watched Hephaestion's angry back move away from him, his mouth open as if to speak, shocked. He didn't want Hephaestion to leave him, he didn't want Hephaestion to be in pain on his own. He shut his lips tightly in case he said something selfish, and followed blindly after Hephaestion, wishing the horrible emptiness of life without Dog was not there.
He kept his distance a few paces behind Hephaestion, following after him as he wound his way down the streets of Pella. Hephaestion knew he was there, but resolutely ignored his trailing presence. He was going home, and he didn't need Alexander. He didn't need any of Alexander's big friends, the older boys with their rich fathers, who mocked Hephaestion for having brought his dog along to be a Page, who mocked him for being younger and smaller than anyone else except Alexander, and who called him a pretty girl. He didn't need any of them.
He kept walking out of the gates of Pella, past the scattering of houses and huts outside the city walls and on into the countryside. He half-expected Alexander to give up and go home, or say something to try and stop him, but he didn't. His steady footsteps just followed behind Hephaestion. How many times had Hephaestion turned and yelled at Dog to go home? But he wouldn't. Dog had a mind of his own, and if he wanted to go somewhere after Hephaestion, even if Hephaestion was just going with his mother to visit one of her friends or neighbours, Dog would come too. The neighbours would laugh good-naturedly and say Hephaestion had brought his shadow along again, and then give Dog a bone.
Hephaestion closed his eyes briefly and stopped in the middle of the dirt road. "Alexander, go home," he said. His anger had died down to tiredness. "Just go home. You'll get into trouble."
Alexander walked silently forward and stood looking at Hephaestion. Hephaestion raised his head to look at him. Alexander's eyes were red-rimmed, his face full of sadness and worry and a deeper grief that wasn't going to go away quickly. Hephaestion hadn't thought about Alexander grieving for Dog as much as he was, but realised Alexander was going to miss Dog too, even though he'd only known him for a few weeks.
"I'm sorry," Alexander whispered, holding out a tentative hand towards Hephaestion's arm. His eyes shone with tears. "I'm really sorry he's gone. He was my friend too."
A sob shook Hephaestion. "It's all my fault!" he cried. Suddenly, he flung himself at Alexander, clinging closely to him. Alexander hugged him back tightly as they both wept against the other's shoulder.
"It's all my fault!" Hephaestion cried again. "I should have left him at home, but I was scared! And I thought you'd like me more if I had Dog around!"
"I did! I did!" Alexander cried. "But I should have liked you anyway! And it's not your fault! It's mine! I suggested we take him to the kennels!"
"No, no!" Hephaestion cried, pulling back to look at Alexander. "He would have had to go there anyway! Your mother or Leonidas would have made me. He was just too big to have around the palace. He was too used to doing what he wanted." He slowly let go of Alexander, embarrassed to be holding him like a baby, but not wanting to stop holding someone.
Aware of his thoughts, Alexander too let go and moved slightly back. "At least he had a hero's death," he said quietly.
"Yes." Hephaestion hitched his bag on his shoulder and began walking again, Alexander falling into step beside him. "He had a hero's pyre too," he said, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand and not looking at Alexander. "It was a bonfire really," he added very quietly, just so Alexander would know the truth.
After a long moment of silence, Alexander asked, "Are you still going home?"
"Yes. I want to see my mother." Hephaestion reddened, knowing how babyish that sounded and looked at Alexander. "He was my father's dog before he was mine," he added by way of explanation. "She'll want to know what happened to him."
Alexander nodded in understanding, and Hephaestion was vaguely stirred at how upset Alexander still looked. He had thought his grief would be a transitory thing, shed with his tears.
"If master Aristotle hadn't been at Mieza arranging things for the new school, this wouldn't have happened," Alexander said quietly. "He would have understood about Dog and let him in the classroom with you."
"But he couldn't have come with me when I'm learning to wait on the king. He would have to have gone to the kennels then. You heard the noise he made."
"I would have looked after him," Alexander said resolutely. "I should have. I should."
A lump formed in Hephaestion's throat and he walked blindly with burning eyes for several moments before he could find his voice. "I never thought to ask you. But you couldn't have looked after him all the time."
They walked in silence then for a long time. The day began to cool towards evening as the sun slipped down behind the western mountains and the shadows lengthened. Hephaestion looked up. "Alexander, you'd better go home."
"No," Alexander said, and kept walking. "I don't want to go back there. I hate it there." He stopped and turned round to look at Hephaestion in the gloaming. "I didn't realise until you and Dog came that I was so unhappy. Lonely. Nobody loves me. Not my father, not my mother. They just see me as someone who might be king one day. My tutors just see me as a weapon to be shaped. But your face lights up like a flame when you see me. Dog runs up to me, wagging his tale, and licks me. None cares what I like. That I love music and poetry, that I love sitting listening to Homer with you and pulling burrs out of Dog's coat." His voice ran out on the memory. Those few evenings listening to master Aristotle read had been the best of his life - and knowing from the shining look on Hephaestion's face that he understood the magic of the poetry too.
Hephaestion's chin trembled unseen in the growing darkness. "And getting your hand bitten off in the process," he said. He stepped forward with renewed energy, holding onto the string of his bag which was digging into his shoulder.
Alexander fell into step beside him. "If there were two of us doing it," he said wistfully, "he didn't know which one to bite."
"But then he'd grumble and get up and move away," Hephaestion said. "Mother will be pleased to see you," he added quietly. "We won't get there tonight, but she'll give us breakfast in the morning."
Alexander nodded and they kept walking, looking out for somewhere to spend the night. Neither of them wanted to ask for shelter at a house and have to answer questions, so they found a quiet little stream, followed it back from the road a way and drank their fill. They crawled into the hollow under a clump of bushes, hidden from view, and Hephaestion pulled out a cloak from inside his bag. By wriggling about, they managed to get it spread out beneath them. The cloak wasn't big enough to cover both of them, so they had to lie close together on their sides to pull the edges over them, using Hephaestion's bag as a pillow.
Hephaestion lay staring into the darkness, missing Dog's warm weight and comforting presence acutely, missing his smell and his mumbling as he settled to sleep. He would have warned them if anything had come sniffing around in the night. A stab of fear and loneliness shot through Hephaestion. He would have to try to live without Dog's protection now. Boys would often think twice about picking on him when Dog stepped forward with a growl, head up and lips twitching to show his canines. But not anymore.
He was aware of Alexander's body pressed close against his back, of Alexander's forearm resting along his ribs, but it wasn't the same as Dog. Alexander smelt a lot nicer than Dog for one thing. But Alexander's weight was different somehow, bonier, and it made Hephaestion more conscious of his own body. He kind of felt prickles through his body, but not in an unpleasant way.
He knew Alexander wasn't asleep and felt him lift his head as he said quietly, "You sleep. I'll keep watch for a while."
"No," Hephaestion whispered back. "I'm not tired. You sleep." Tears slid unheralded from the corners of his eyes to roll down onto his bag.
"Shall I tell us a story?" Alexander whispered.
"No. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow," he whispered back hoarsely.
He felt Alexander lay his head down and move his hand to cup Hephaestion's shoulder comfortingly.
They lay there in the darkness as the damp night air rose like the spirits of the dead from the ground, listening to the whirr of an owl's wings above them, the squeak of bats, and rustlings in the dried leaves as mice and voles and other little creatures moved about their nightly excursions. Occasionally there was the heavier tread or snuffle of something bigger passing by, but nothing came near them and as the hours passed, they both skimmed lightly through the surface of sleep, aware but resting.
As the first touches of dawn began to glimmer in the sky, Hephaestion woke suddenly, his throat sore from dreaming, his mind turned around on itself at the difference between the dream world and the world before his eyes. He raised his head slightly to be certain of where he was, only knowing it wasn't the same world he had been in a moment before, though he could remember nothing of it. Dog wasn't there, lifting his head to look at Hephaestion in question: then he remembered that it was Alexander's weight at his back, not Dog's. He laid his head down again, only half reassured.
Alexander's sleeping head was resting against his shoulder, his arm having fallen down across Hephaestion's waist. Tenderness assailed Hephaestion. He was very grateful Alexander was there and he lay still for a moment, exploring this new and warming sensation of friendship.
It didn't take long before Alexander stirred sleepily too, and as soon as there was enough light to see by, they crawled out, washed and drank from the stream and began to walk again, ignoring the hollowness in their stomachs, Alexander taking his turn to carry Hephaestion's bag.
It was mid-morning by the time they reached Hephaestion's home, the farm settled in a small valley with a stone-capped mountain to the west, the white-washed house with its red roof tiles and guttering shining in the sun. The doors and the pillars of the front portico had been painted a deep cherry red, shaded with a straggling oak tree on one side of the house. From the other side of the house, a stretch of grass, green with the first of the autumn rains, ran down to a small blue-grey lake.
Tired and hungry as he was, Hephaestion's pace quickened on the downward slope and Alexander, shifting the bag on his shoulder, drew a breath of triumph and relief.
Four or five mongrel dogs of varying sizes ran out to greet them as they approached, woofing and wagging their tails in welcome as they recognised Hephaestion. He petted them and called out in greeting to the man and youth who came out of one of the farm buildings to see who had arrived. They waved and stood and watched as Hephaestion led the way round to the north side of the house, to the kitchen courtyard, the door shaded by a vine-grown trellis.
Hephaestion's mother was on the far side of the kitchen, putting a dish up on a shelf, and she looked over her shoulder at the footsteps and the exclamations of surprise and welcome from the cook and kitchen girl. A joyous smile broke across her face as she turned, faltering as she registered the desperate expression on her son's face. Her eyes flitted to Alexander's face, his unhappy expression mirroring Hephaestion's.
"Mother," Hephaestion said. "Dog is dead. I let him get killed by the king's hounds."
"Oh. Oh, my love," she said, and held out her arms to him. Hephaestion went to her and she wrapped her arms tightly about him, cradling his head against her breast as he hugged her.
"I'm so sorry, mother," Hephaestion murmured brokenly. "I should have let you take him home. I didn't look after him properly."
"He was getting old, darling," she murmured, stroking his hair. "Perhaps it was better this way. He would have hated getting stiff and sick."
Hephaestion raised his head to look at her. "He was only a bit stiff in the mornings, mother. I know you moaned at me for letting him sleep on my bed, but because I did, he didn't have arthritis or rheumatism."
His mother smiled sadly at him and touched his face tenderly. "Have you and Alexander walked all the way?"
Hephaestion nodded.
"You must be tired and hungry," she said, kissing him. "Sit down and I'll get you something. Then you can tell me all about it."
A squeal of delight sounded behind them as Hephaestion's sister entered the kitchen, and as Hephaestion turned to greet her, and the cook and the kitchen girl, his mother moved towards Alexander, standing alone in the middle of the kitchen floor.
She raised a hand to gentle his fiercely unhappy face. "It was very good of you to come with Hephaestion, Alexander," she said. "Thank you for being such a loyal friend to him." She saw the tears forming in his eyes and took him in her arms to hug him.
Closing his eyes, Alexander could feel her heartbeat. Yet, despite her frailty, he felt completely safe, safer than he ever had done in his life before. It was as if he were the one who had come home to have his wounds healed, not just Hephaestion. He couldn't ever remember his mother hugging him this way as Hephaestion's mother laid her hand gently on his hair. He couldn't ever remember his own mother hugging him at all.
Hephaestion's mother pressed her lips to his hair and set him back a little to look into his eyes. "Do your parents know you are here?" she asked quietly.
"No. They will guess, and send someone after me. They will probably be here about noon."
Hephaestion's mother nodded slowly. "Plenty of time to eat and rest then." She smiled a little and let him go gently as Hephaestion's aunt and grandmother entered the kitchen to greet him. Leaving Hephaestion to make the introductions to Alexander, she set the cook to fry the boys some eggs, bread and bacon while she prepared them some warm beef tea and buttered bread.
Alexander wiped his knife clean on the bread he no longer wanted and laid it down on the table. He looked across the table at Hephaestion, whose face with its sad weariness jolted him with the pain of remembrance. Hephaestion's face no longer looked quite so grey, even though he hadn't finished all of his food. He had explained briefly to his family exactly what had happened to Dog, and his sister had burst into tears. She was crying quietly now with her mother's arm around her.
Hephaestion looked across at Alexander, a lost expression in his eyes. He picked up his unfinished bacon rind, and remembered there was no Dog beside his chair to give it to. He sat staring at the food in his fingers.
"So, Hephaestion," his grandmother said, startling everyone out of their thoughts. "You've lost one shadow and acquired another. Alexander followed you all the way here, did he?"
Alexander stared at the old woman, shocked at her rudeness, but Hephaestion's face was transformed vividly with hurt anger. "Alexander is my friend," he declared.
"Well, at least he's human," his grandmother replied. "I suppose that's an improvement over spending all your time with a dog."
Hephaestion pushed angrily away from the table and stormed silently towards the door.
"Mother," Hephaestion's mother said reprovingly, as Alexander got up quickly to follow Hephaestion.
"I've said it before," Hephaestion's grandmother said as Alexander left the kitchen, "you're far too soft on that boy. He needs to toughen up, or he will never grow up to be a proper man like his father."
Alexander couldn't believe what Hephaestion's grandmother was saying as he hurried across the yard after Hephaestion. He was aware of light footsteps behind him as Hephaestion's sister ran out across the flagstones behind him. He half-expected to hear the click of Dog's claws too. The footsteps faltered and stopped as he ran down the steps and chased after Hephaestion. He caught up with him down by the pigsty.
Hephaestion was standing with his hands tucked under his arms, kicking at a stone embedded in the ground. Alexander slowed as he approached, unsure if Hephaestion would want him near if he were crying. He didn't appear to be, but he was upset.
"She hated Dog," he said vehemently, dislodging the stone from the dry ground with a final kick. "But he was all I had, and I loved him! And she couldn't understand that!"
He looked up at Alexander in silent appeal, who could think of nothing to say. Instinctively, he shied away from offering sympathy to Hephaestion, looking instead at the snuffling pigs who had come up to the wall to investigate. Alexander knew that softness would enmesh Hephaestion in his own self-pity, robbing him of the strength to deal with this.
He tucked his hands under his armpits, unconsciously imitating Hephaestion. "Who needs women?" was all he could think of to say.
Hephaestion looked at him like he was stupid. "I do," he muttered and, unfolding his arms, stalked away towards the lake.
Alexander went after him. "I didn't mean that," he said as Hephaestion slowed for him. "But my mother and grandmother are just the same. Always needling each other, always having a go at me, and trying to make you feel bad so that they feel superior to you, so they can control you. It's all about fear, Hephaestion."
Hephaestion looked at him, considering that. "I don't think it is. I think it's about love. Grandmother only ever loved my father, she doesn't love me, or mother. She's bitter that she's had to give way to mother for years, and she hasn't got a free hand because she's getting old. Mother has never been afraid of her. And she doesn't love me because she thinks I'm not like my father."
After a moment, Alexander said, "My mother thinks that because I might be king after my father, that grandmother should give way to her. But she's the king's mother, and doesn't she why she should give way to her. They're always fighting to see who's stronger."
Hephaestion looked sideways at Alexander as they walked. "Might you be king?"
Alexander shrugged uncomfortably. "Mother thinks so. And I think grandmother thinks so. They watch me all the time, and often fight over me; what I should be doing. They don't so much over my brothers."
Hephaestion was silent, out of his depth in royal family politics. "Hopefully the king will live for many years."
"Yes. But he goes into battle all the time. I have to be prepared," Alexander said distantly.
Without speaking further, they walked around the lake to Hephaestion's favourite spot, where a piece of the mountain had dropped into the lake. They sat on the rocky outcrop, the wind blowing in their faces.
Hephaestion picked up a few loose pieces of stone and threw them into the lake. "Do you want to be king?" he asked worriedly. He had not really thought about Alexander being king before because that meant Philip being dead and the whole world changing.
"Yes," Alexander said quietly, looking down at the pebbles in his hand. "I want to do great things." Suddenly he lunged, and threw the pebbles into the lake as far as he could.
"Won't you miss your father?" Hephaestion asked.
"Yes, but he's never here," Alexander said, his mind already on other things. "Do you think," he asked, "that in a few years time, when I'm older, I could marry your mother?"
Hephaestion stared at him in horror. "No, you can't do that!"
"Why not?" Alexander turned to stare back at Hephaestion, his chin jutting defensively, thinking maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to say that out loud. Leonidas was always telling him - think, Alexander, before you open your mouth. But his father did it all the time: married people to make them friends forever.
"Because she's my mother!" Hephaestion replied in exasperation.
"But if I married her, then this would be my family, and my family would be your family, and this would be my home too, and Pella would be your home. We'd be like brothers then, and always be there for each other."
Maybe Hephaestion didn't quite understand Alexander's logic because a very strange look came over his face as he stared hard at Alexander. He drew his knees up tightly to his chest, wrapped his arms about them and dropped his head against his knees.
Appalled, Alexander stared at Hephaestion. He wasn't sure if Hephaestion was crying or not, but that hadn't been his intention. He laid his hand gently on Hephaestion's bowed shoulder. Hephaestion shrugged it off.
"I'm sorry," Alexander said quietly. "I talk too much."
"I miss him so much," Hephaestion mumbled from behind his knees and arms. "He was my best friend. The nearest I had to a brother."
Alexander slid his hand across Hephaestion's bowed back and laid his head on his shoulder. "I'll be your best friend, if you like," he said very quietly.
After a moment, Hephaestion muttered, "Yes."
Alexander wrapped his arm more comfortably about Hephaestion's ribs and they sat like that for a while until the air around them grew warm and quiet.
Alexander shifted his head, resting his chin on Hephaestion's shoulder. "What's brown and sticky?" he asked, almost in Hephaestion's ear.
Hephaestion lifted his head. "What? I don't know."
"A stick."
Hephaestion gave Alexander a look that said he thought he'd gone off his head, but Alexander carried on regardless.
"What has four legs but can't walk? A table. What did the ground say to the earthquake? You crack me up. What did the fish say when he swam into the wall? Dam. What sort of hair do sea nymphs have? Wavy hair. Why do cows lie down together when it rains? To keep each udder dry!"
A small smile twitched at Hephaestion's lips as he watched Alexander's face.
"Why does the heron stand on one leg?" Alexander continued. "Because if he lifted both legs, he'd fall flat on his face!"
Hephaestion definitely did smile this time, wriggling slightly.
Alexander let him go, feeling slightly breathless from talking so fast.
"Brown and sticky?" Hephaestion said, a warm light in his eyes as he continued to watch Alexander closely. "That is the worst joke ever."
"I know lots more. What's brown and hairy? A hare."
"That's enough." Hephaestion moved with a quiet breath, resting his wrists on his knees, his chin on his wrists as he gazed out over the lake.
Alexander drew back and looked over the lake too. They sat, listening to the silence, trying to catch the voices on the wind as the trees and the water whispered to each other.
Hephaestion sighed. "We'll have to go back. You'll be in big trouble if we stay out another night."
"You'll be in trouble with master Leonidas, too. He has a very heavy hand."
Hephaestion got to his feet. "Come on," he said holding out his hand to Alexander and pulling him to his feet. "Grandmother will think I'm sulking."
They walked slowly back to the house without talking, each taking comfort in the other's presence, despite the missing third they both felt following them.
In the courtyard outside the kitchen, Hephaestion's mother was washing her daughter's hair. She smiled at them, her daughter looking up at them with big eyes from under her wet hair as she leant over the bowl on the table, clutching the linen towel tightly at her neck.
"Don't wander far, boys," Hephaestion's mother said, pouring water from a jug over her daughter's hair.
"We won't, mother," Hephaestion said, leading the way towards the kitchen.
Alexander moved closer to him. "Is it definite your sister is going to marry your neighbour's son?" he hissed.
Hephaestion shrugged. "Nothing's been said, but everyone expects so."
"Oh." Alexander looked disappointed.
"They're probably coming over this afternoon, that's why she's washing her hair."
"Oh."
"You haven't run off again, then, boy?" Hephaestion's grandmother asked tartly as they walked into the dim kitchen. She was sitting idly in the corner.
"No, grandmother. I'm going to show Alexander father's armour," Hephaestion said as he kept walking across the kitchen.
"Mother, leave him alone," Hephaestion's aunt said coolly as she set a pan of warm water down on the kitchen table. "If you've nothing better to do, you can take this water outside."
"Oh," the grandmother said sharply as she pushed herself to her feet, "you, who have never had a child, know better than your own mother how to raise a boy, do you?"
"I know better than to constantly find fault with a child, mother."
"How else are they going to know they need to improve?" Hephaestion's grandmother demanded and when her daughter could not find a ready answer, she said, with a note of triumph, "Hephaestion, when you're done looking at armour, come talk to your grandmother, and tell her what Pella's like these days. Tell me if it is any grander now than in King Archelaus' day when I was a girl."
"It's very big, grandmother," Hephaestion replied as he led Alexander out of the door to the stoa which ran around the inner courtyard. They walked around the shady colonnade towards the main part of the house, smelling the lavender, rosemary and thyme that grew about the pool of water reflecting the blue sky above.
They entered the main dining hall of the house, a room which was not used often now as there was no man in the house. It smelt faintly of crumbling plaster, and Hephaestion shyly showed Alexander his dead father's armour hanging on the painted wall. He climbed up onto one of the dinning couches and lifted down the helmet to show Alexander the Gorgon embossed on the front.
They sat and talked for a while about how Hephaestion's father had died, and how they would do great deeds when they went to war.
The dogs started barking outside and they looked at each other as they heard the faint drum of horses' hooves. Hephaestion went outside to greet the visitors, but Alexander hung back in the portico. He knew they had been sent to fetch him back to Pella. He stood in the shadow of the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. He was not going to be carted home like a naughty five year old.
A dozen soldiers cantered up to the house, leading a couple of spare horses, the dogs barking furiously around the horses' hooves. Hephaestion's mother and the estate manager had walked around the side of the house to see who had arrived, the rest of Hephaestion's family and the womenfolk from the house looking from the corner of the wall behind the oak tree. Several of the farmhands materialised too, one carrying a pitchfork from the barn, another a scythe, and the rest staves. It was always better to be safe than sorry in greeting armed strangers.
Hephaestion ordered the dogs quiet, though they continued to circulate agitatedly around the strange men and horses. Mindful of the dogs, the horsemen stayed mounted, watching the men around them, but some still eying the women with interest.
Hephaestion stood bravely before the horses and looked up at the man in the lead as the master of the estate came to stand near him.
"Greetings," Hephaestion said.
"Greetings," said the lead soldier brusquely. "You don't know me, but I know you, Hephaestion, and it's obvious you made it home safely. Where's Alexander?"
"I am here, Antigonus," Alexander said, rolling his shoulder around the doorframe as he came into view. He knew the man, a hard-faced soldier who was one of his father's friends. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked to the top of the steps so as to be clearly seen.
"Alexander," Antigonus said with relief. "We've been worried sick about you. Your mother's half out of her mind."
"There's no need."
"Well, leastways, we've found you now," Antigonus said, sliding down from his horse.
The smallest of the dogs moved forward to sniff at him. Hephaestion ordered him back sharply. Antigonus was within an inch of kicking him away.
"We've brought spare horses for you and Hephaestion, if he's coming back with you, Alexander," Antigonus continued. "We can rest our horses here for a while, then get you safely back to Pella by nightfall."
"I'm not going back to Pella," Alexander said calmly. There was a moment's silence around him. He took advantage of the silence and stepped down from the steps of the portico, standing beside Hephaestion and looking squarely at Antigonus.
"I can send someone back to tell your father, and we can stay tonight, but no longer than that, Alexander," Antigonus said, trying to be reasonable.
"Hephaestion and I," Alexander said in a tone that did not expect to be contradicted, "are going straight to Mieza from here. It is too far to go today, so you can take your men down to the nearest village for the night. From there, you can send someone back to tell father what I am doing. Then you can come and collect us first thing in the morning."
"Alexander," Antigonus said, irritated but trying not to antagonise Alexander, "I can't do that. Your father – not to mention your mother – will skin me alive if I don't bring you home safely to Pella. Those were my orders."
"I am perfectly safe. And why should I not be safe with master Aristotle in my own father's kingdom?"
Antigonus' jaw clenched. "What do you want to go to Mieza for? Pella's half-way there. Why can't we go to Pella first?" It was plainly on the tip of his tongue to say, do as you're told.
Alexander's chin came up and his eyes focused with a dangerous glint. "Father is leaving for Epirus in a few days. We would have gone to Mieza then. What difference does a few days make?"
Antigonus briefly considered picking Alexander up and throwing him over his horse, but knew that wouldn't work either. Desperation inspired him. "It makes a difference to your mother."
Alexander stared at him intently, his colour rising. "I am not a child."
"Then don't run away like one!" Antigonus said, losing his temper. He'd resented having this nursemaid mission thrust on him, but had done it to please Philip, and the last thing he wanted was Alexander being difficult.
"He didn't run away!" Hephaestion cried, thrusting himself forward, his voice rising. "I ran away, and he followed me! Alexander would never run away! Ever! He never ran away when Leonidas beat him and starved him, he never ran away when his mother tried to turn him against his father, he never ran away when his father ignored him, or humiliated him by saying his singing was like a girl's! Alexander never ran away!"
Alexander moved so that his shoulder was slightly in front of Hephaestion's, staring up at Antigonus fiercely. Antigonus stared at their impassioned faces, feeling a strong sense of exclusion that was like a blast of cold air in his face. For once he felt his age, that had lost the gift of blind faith.
"My mother doesn't care," Alexander said in a low voice, entirely for Antigonus's ears, but doubtless others heard too. "Leonidas is her kinsman, and she has done nothing about the way he has treated me. He has treated me worse than a slave. I am not going back there. From now on I make my own choices. I have left childish things behind me."
Antigonus stared for a long moment at Alexander.
"Very well, Alexander," he said. "On your head be it."
"On my head be it."
Antigonus turned and vaulted onto his horse. As he sat and gathered his reins, he said, "Hephaestion, the king said to say he was sorry about your dog, and that you could have your pick of the litters when the pups are born."
Hephaestion raised his head, mirroring Alexander's stance. "Tell the king thank you, but I don't want another dog."
"You'd be a fool to turn down a valuable dog like that."
"Tell my father Hephaestion thanks him," Alexander said a little loudly, "and that I will take the dog in his name. We will share him."
"Whatever. Can we at least water the horses in the lake before we go find this village?"
Alexander looked at Hephaestion, to whom the lake really belonged.
Hephaestion said, "We will bring you and your men some refreshments down shortly."
"Make sure the horses are properly cool first," Alexander said as they turned the horses' heads towards the lake. "That water is very cold."
"Yes, Alexander," Antigonus said, carefully keeping his thoughts to himself.
Alexander and Hephaestion stood watching them walk the horses down to the lake. "He never loved anything except himself in his whole life," Alexander said harshly, meaning Antigonus. "Father understood, or he wouldn't have offered you the pup."
"He thinks I'm a coward," Hephaestion said thinly.
"You are not a coward," Alexander said resolutely. "You didn't run from anything. You ran to something. Home. He wouldn't understand the difference. Ignore him." Alexander turned his head towards Hephaestion. "I promise you won't ever have to run home anymore, Hephaestion, because you'll have me. You'll be my home."
Hephaestion nodded solemnly as though he had taken an oath. "And you'll be my home. Wherever you are, Alexander."
Aristotle stood in the doorway of the house he had been given in Mieza, watching the group of horsemen riding slowly towards the new school. He had been apprised of Alexander, and Hephaestion's, early arrival. He could not say he was surprised.
He had told Philip that his son was ready to fly the nest, was ready to stretch his wings. He had told the king that Leonidas was brutalising Alexander and would turn him into a competent soldier but a callous man if he were not removed from his care.
Philip had listened to this patiently, silently, while Aristotle had his say about Alexander's intelligence, his curiosity and eagerness to learn. Aristotle had been unable to judge what he was thinking. When he was done, Philip, with his usual economy, had simply asked what he wanted. To get the boy away from Pella, away from the distractions of the city, away from his mother's tendency to play on his emotions for her own ends. It interfered with his ability to make rational judgements.
Philip had said there was an orchard a good day from Pella: was that far enough? Aristotle has asked: when could he start?
He stepped out into the evening sunshine as the party of horsemen arrived and waited as the boys dismounted. They both looked tired as they approached, Hephaestion particularly. He was not as physically tough as Alexander; perhaps in that respect Leonidas's training had been valuable to Alexander.
Aristotle had heard about Hephaestion's dog, and he regretted it. He had seen that Hephaestion was a boy who particularly took things to heart, but if that heart were given to Alexander it would benefit him enormously, feeding his hunger for love and affection. He believed the boys would blossom in each other's friendship, and that that friendship would bear much fruit in manhood.
Aristotle smiled in welcome as the two boys stood tiredly before him, presenting themselves for his guidance.
"Welcome to your new home, boys," he said warmly. "Come inside."
The death of Hephaestion's Dog owes something to the death of Owain's Dog in Rosemary Sutcliff's novel Outcast.