Flowers
Author: Lysis, revised January 2012
(Copyright © 2006 Elizabeth C. Owens)
Summary: Alexandros (stops to pick flowers for his new bride, Roxshanna, and thinks of all the women in his life and what they mean to him. I include a couple of lines about his sister, Kleopatra and they may be out of the historical timeline, but threw them in anyway.
He stood in the field surrounded by lilies; they went on as far as the eye could see. It was as though he stood with his feet in a fragrant tossing sea and the heavens opened wide above him calling his eye toward the horizon where the two met, heaven and sea, endless and unknowable.
The army had been encamped for five fortnights now, here in this magnificent paradise of green woods, flowering meadows and clear, sweet brooks two weeks out of Sogdiana. In gentle waves, the flowers flowed before him over the small hillocks and meadows, their dainty long stemmed necks swaying gently in the breeze. He closed his eyes, and let his head fall back feeling the heat of sun upon his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Demeter's bounty had always moved him in this way, its beauty, grace, its blessing on man, so much to see, so much to know, and he wanted to see, to know it all.
The flowers glistened with dew. Helios had risen only a little drawing his chariot along toward the heights of the heavens. The day promised to be warm, but now, a crisp coolness still hung in the air that carried with it the honeyed musk of the flowers in his hand. He picked several, pressing them against his cheek. They were silken against his skin, reminding him of her touch, so soft, delicate, and sweet. He would bring them to her, his new bride.
Roxshanna was not at all, what he had expected. He had expected blazing fire and instead had gotten a lively flame that he hoped would warm and nurture him. He had sought her vivid beauty to quench the memory of his mother's wild sensuality and instead had gotten, what exactly was it? He wasn't sure yet, but it did comfort him in a place that had been barren since he had left Pella, a place not even Bagoas with his great tenderness could reach. Yet did he want that? He wasn't sure what to think. Could he share with her all those things…?
Hephaistion knew in him that place that held all his darkness all his anguish, fears, yearnings. Those he would not share with her. Those he would not share with anyone else, for Hephaistion's love was as the undying fire in the depths of winter that sustains life. In truth, he knew nothing else and had wanted nothing else. Yet there was a certain pleasure with Roxshanna. She was the sparkling sun dancing atop shining stones in a gentle brook. She pulled his mind away toward the green glades of lighter imaginings. She would be the sop that was sweet and spicy that would satisfy him at times, but he knew he would never long for that, not the way he sometimes longed for Hephaistion with a yearning that was painful when it was left unquenched. Still she was fire, and he had from a child been enamored of it and its beautiful flames.
He picked a few more flowers and counted them. Yes, there were exactly two of each color, two of the golden yellow, two pink and two white.
He smiled recalling - his mother and nurse had loved flowers. Many an hour he had spent perusing the gardens and forest glades, in Pella, searching for the perfect buds that would delight their eye. As a child, his world was safe and his heart content if his small offerings brought joy to their faces. His mother would set hers in a favored vase she had selected for his little offerings. It always sat near her bed.
"Dionysus," she would say with a smile, as he watched her arrange them in the gold and lapis Egyptian vase, "receives many gifts, he will not begrudge me these, I think." Then she would wink at him, her grey eyes soft with love and kiss and tickle him until he would shriek with laughter. Then his mother would sweep him up in her arms and sing him songs from her own girlhood while feeding him red and purple grapes. To this day whenever he had grapes on his table, they brought back the remembered joy of those quick stolen hours in his mother's loving arms.
Lanike, his nurse, she of the long golden brown hair, whose strands he loved to wind around his little fist as he sat in her lap. She would chide that his hands and feet were grubby and grumble with a frown on her pretty face that he was such a chore to her. Her days were long and arduous for the gods had given her labors greater than Herakles with the care of one such as him. He knew this was not true, though. For she would often then chase him down the long hallway of the palace crying out that did she catch him he would be most sorry for into the bath he would go. She knew how much he hated bathing as a child preferring to wear the rich black mud of Pella on his skin as his armor.
It was the badge of his courage when he would climb a tree that was higher than the others or went hunting alone through the tall foliage of the place gardens hunting the kitchen cats turning them in his mind into the boldest of golden lions whose skins he might wear. Past the laughing pages in their yellow bordered cloaks, whose quick hands he darted in and out of, for often they would be enlisted in the chase; past his sister's and cousins' rooms who would run from their own nurses and watch, with wistful smiles on their pretty faces. Sometimes down the long marble stairway toward the audience hall he would run. His little footsteps pounding like the fast chariots on the plains of Troy, hers light and swift behind him, like Artemis running in the hunt. She would then catch him up and cover his face with "a sweet bath of kisses" and they would both laugh.
He loved the way her great brown eyes would light up when he would sneak up behind her and though he would try to be very, very quiet he would begin to giggle, spoiling the surprise and she would turn and see his little fist filled with those long, silky green stems and her eyes would fill with tears. "You are my greatest task for the gods have gifted me for with one of their own." She would kiss him and cluck and mutter all the while grinning widely and then pick him up and hug him close to her heart. "I could have no sweeter child than you, Alexandros, even though you are not of my body." Then she would kiss him and go about singing happily all the rest of the day. He would go to his little bed on those nights tucked up snug with a good story in his head knowing he was loved and his dreams were sweet.
He remembered the time he spent with his sister and cousins. They had been like frisky little colts, full of strong desires and had required carefully handling. He laughed aloud and stopped a moment to listen to the echo of his laughter that was carried away on Zephyr's hand toward the blue sky until it had died altogether. He recalled well, the handling he and Hephaistion and given them. Rough, giving no quarter and had gotten the same in return. Snowball fights in the winter and mud fights along the lagoon when his sister and cousin would sneak away from their nurses. He smiled at the memories that fell upon him, Kleopatra demanding his attention so that she could show him her new pony, or a new dress she'd been made for the Dionysia, or when she began to put her hair up, wore the humition and began to act the young woman.
Truly, he loved his sister and was happy she had grown into a strong woman. Let he seek pleasure in the arms of another. What right had he to judge her? Her husband was lately dead, her children grown; she had shown well she knew how to wield power with a wise hand. Had she not the right for pleasures of Eros as well as him? He frowned, as he bent down and added more flowers to the bouquet growing in his arms. The man who had sent him the missive about his sister's activities would be most disappointed when he learned that he, her brother was happy for her. He shook his head feeling his good mood might be disturbed and brushed the thoughts from his head away as one would an annoying gnat that buzzing about one's head.
She was proving to be a strong woman, like their mother, willful, yes, but after all, she was her mother's child, as was he. However he doubted she had ever been locked in her room quite so many times as he had for stealing away down the barracks or creeping off to the forest to hunt when he ought to have been at lessons. Who was to say she was not the better for it? She had received her share of whippings and chastisements. Yet, she had much pleased their father, though, more so than he, being merry and not troublesome; much inclinded to sing in a lovely voice that Philippos had often stolen from his duties to listen to.
If only... Alexandros shook his head; he would not go down that road. That journey had long ago ended it was time to let the memories rest.
"Let those sorrows fade so that new joys may be given birth." The wisdom of Sissygambris never failed to move him. Of all the many women, he had known in his life, that one woman made him realize so much about himself – the man he could be, was trying to be. His greatest sorrow was that she was not a man, for to meet such a warrior on the field of battle would have been an honor beyond all else. That she was an oracle he believed for she had laughed and told him not to sorrow for what could not be, but rather rejoice in what was. If they had met on the field of battle, it might have been she who would have been the victor! For who can know the ways of the gods? He had looked up meeting those faded blue eyes and had seen great knowledge in them.
She believed, as she had confided recently in Susa, where they had visited for many hours, talking long into the night, that he had been her son in a previous life, for she had known him again, when her eyes had set upon him that day he and his companion, the handsome "Ehpaisteon" had come into her presence. Though he was not a follower of Pythagoras and his beliefs, Alexander could almost believe this to be true, for he loved her as he loved his own mother, with a son's strong devotion, and called her in his heart by another name that belonged to another time that he knew was not of this life.
He laughed aloud, again, for she was a wickedly delightful woman. She loved to flirt with Hephaistion– calling him "the beautiful man with eyes like the sun upon the great seas". and praise him in the presence of her ladies until Hephaistion's cheeks were bright red. Both Hephaistion and he agreed Sissygambris was truly a queen, even surpassing his mother. He often wondered how the two women would fare should they meet. Hephaistion would laugh and say it would be akin to releasing two lionesses into the same hunting ground.
He wished somehow he might send some of this colorful abundance to her to grace the many little tables that were scattered throughout her rooms back at the palace at Susa. He studied the arrangement in his arms and in his mind chose the best for her. He would keep them in his heart and sent her his wishes in his next letter.
Alexandros turned quickly, he had been so lost in his reverie he had quite forgotten where he was. Leonatus and Perdikkas were beckoning to him, calling loudly across the meadow. He sighed, knowing he had to leave his gentle musings.
He laughed aloud as he looked down; his hands were overflowing with lilies. Indeed, he could not hold them all; they were falling at his feet burying the brown tops of his cavalry boots in their abundance. A yellow one rested on the edge of his shoulder staining the red of his mantle with a soft powder. Their wide-open faces smiled up at him reminding him of all these women he had known in his life and loved.
He imagined pressing these into Roxshanna's small, firm hands. She would purse her coral lips and her thick, black lashes would come down hiding those dark, mysterious eyes of hers, and her delicate, oval face would blush pink, sweetly like the bud of a new rose when kissed with rain. He found himself smiling at the image and thought perhaps tonight he would visit her. Yes, Roxshanna would take much pleasure in these and to see her smile would give him much pleasure in return.
Finis