Alexander Meets Barsine, Daughter of Artabazos, of Persia
Author: Lysis (Copyright 2012)
Summary: Pure fiction. A short story about what Alexander's first meeting with Barsine; daughter of Artabazos might have been like. He later took her as his mistress and was said to have fathered a child, Herakles by her.
Warnings: Vicious kittens.
Part I
Pella, Macedonia,
About 351 BCE
Carefully holding his breath, he inched his way along the overhanging branch of the tree on his hands and knees. Coming up had not been hard, but quite easy. He had practiced in his head for several minutes before he had begun. The trick he found was to close his eyes and see himself placing his hands and feet in just the right places. The bark of the tree had been rough beneath his small feet, and had torn a hole in his blue mantle, the one his mother had embroidered with vines and prancing lions. He'd clasped the limb tightly and grasped at the small branches for leverage.
He had gained the large branch and scooted along on his bottom a bit to get a better seat. What was even better he had outwitted his slaves and Lanike, his nurse's watchful eye and had run free. The orchard was glorious – it was early in the month of Artemisius, and though still a bit cool in the early morning hours, by the 11th hour of the morning by the water clock in the great courtyard, the sun was well overhead and the ground warm he could run about without a chiton or mantle. He had heard a noise while he was stalking through the early flowers of one of the palace gardens, pretending he was hunting boar in the great woods. Casting his head about in the direction of the sound, he had heard its call. He had looked up then and seen the small creature perched on the limb of the largest oak. It had beckoned to him with a tiny paw.
"Wait, stay, I'll come for you." He smiled easily, now here was a task worthy of Herakles, his mighty ancestor. He would rescue the little creature and perhaps win a great prize from the gods for such bravery. He squinted into the blinding light of Helios whose glow seemed to touch everything and paint it in gold. Perhaps Apollo himself would allow him to drive his chariot across the Heavens. Yes, he would like such a prize. The kitten, yes, for it was kitten was perched high up in one of the apple-laden branches. The little beast opened its mouth and called out again. He pursed his lips studying it. It was grey of coat with little white paws. His sister, Kleopatra had such a kitten. He'd seen her with it just days ago carrying it about as though it were a doll, wrapped in a bit of shawl she'd no doubt begged from their Mother or her nurse. Perhaps the kitten ran away, seeking to escape such a terrible fate. Girls, ugh, Alexander twisted his small face up thinking on the subject. He did not have much care for girls. The soldiers in his father's army, yes, now by all that was sacred to Apollo, he smiled as he tried out the oath in his mind. He had heard his father utter that just a fortnight ago. He liked the sound of it. By all that was sacred to Apollo, he continued, he would do anything to spend time in barracks or in the guardroom at the palace. Already, he had made several true friends amongst the troops there. Let them seek him amongst the soldiers, but not among the other children. No by Hecate, he giggled, that one he had heard from his mother's own lips when she thought he was out of earshot. By Hecate, he continued, and by all that was sacred to Apollo, he would spend his time in the pursuits of glory and honor.
There it was, piercing green eyes stared at him and the little mouth opened as he edged closer. Its small meow told of its fear. "Don't be frightened, I'm here. I've come to rescue you. I'm Alexander, I live just up there." As he spoke he flung a hand backward toward the quarters in the second story of the place, he shared with his half-brothers. "I am of the line of Achilles and Herakles. I've strong blood in me from great heroes, and will aid you." He stretched out his hand toward the kitten and smiled. It was very small, and looked frightened as it sank back huddled against the end of the branch. Studying it closer he saw a glittering collar of gems upon its small neck. It was the grey one he had seen trotting about the stables yesterday. Its mother was the big silvery Persian he had seen Artabazos, his father's Persian guest friend carrying around and stroking as though it were a much-loved babe.
Artabazos, the barbarian from Persian, he recalled the man's face. He was immensely tall, with long flowing black hair and his long, dyed and scented beard that smelt of spices. He had arrived a fortnight ago with his family and retainers. He, Alexander, who had just turned five summers one month ago, not out of the nursery yet, had not met them, but he had seen the man with his father and had seen the cat. Cats were common enough indeed, in Pella, but not one such as this. Its long silky fur was soft as a baby's breath and it had bright blue eyes. The man has smiled easily when he was talking with his father and seemed much at ease among the Macedonian court. Yet he was Persian, Alexander had been confused at this. He recalled faintly the story his grandmother had recalled to him of the servitors of Xerxes, the barbarian king who had come to Macedon to seek water and land. Eurydice told him, one day when he was older, she would take him to the deep woods down in Agai to where it was said Xerxes' men were buried and there they would piss on their graves. That was the true welcome Macedon had given Xerxes.
"Never forget, Alexander, we are of strong blood and an ancient line, going back to Heracles himself. We bow to no man." She had told him. He had taken it to heart and locked this knowledge deep inside himself. Now as he glanced at the kitten, he wondered would a kitten of Persian descent be any different from one of Macedonian?
He had spied on this barbarian tracking him through the palace, running from pillar to pillar in the great audience hall until his father's chamberlain had seen him and sent him back to the arms of his nurse, Lanike. He had rebelled refusing to stay in the nursery with his half-brothers, Arrhidaios or little Sabattarus. In fact, he had been terrible to them all, refusing to take part in their little games or lay on his small bed of olive wood and listen to stories. He would interrupt their stories with terrible roars like the Hydra and then run and kick over their little play houses and dolls. He insisted they play Troy and all the other children were to be the Trojans. This has caused a fit of commotion with his cousin, Cyrene, and his sister, Kleopatra, who insisted they would be Myrmidons.
"No! No!" He had raged at them, "You are silly girls, what do girls know of battle? You," he pointed to his sister, "You will be Kassandra, and you", he pointed regally as he had seen his mother do to her serving maids, to his half-brother . "You will be Astyanax. You will be thrown from the cliff." At that, Arrhidaios had screamed and insisted he would play Hektor and Alexander and he began to scuffle and roll about the tiled floor. Only, his older cousin, Amyntas his long dead uncle Perdikkas' son had been able to pull them apart. Amyntas seemed to have placed himself along Ptolemy, son of Lagos over the care of Alexander. However, the youth had suggested that perhaps his cousin needed a warrior as a nurse and not the Lady Hellenike, sister of Black Kleitos. Amyntas had been a great friend, but he had recently entered into training as a page and Alexander missed him dearly. He had been out of sorts and bad tempered ever since.
Finally Lanike, tired and frustrated with his behavior had threatened to send him to the barracks to do the backbreaking work of the common solider, digging ditches and breastworks.
"Send me let me be with the soldiers, then!" He had shouted as loudly as he dare and jumped up and down on the yellow and red coverlet of his bed. "I'll eat gruel and make my bed on the hard ground. I don't mind. Such a life is fit for me. I want a life of great deeds." Lanike had rolled her eyes at his tantrum and put him to bed with only an egg posset for his supper. He had sulked all the next day and been sullen whenever she had spoken to him. When his Mother had called him to her chambers, near suppertime, he had been chastened and apologized for his behavior.
"Come, I'll not harm you." He leaned forward stretching his hand just within reach of the kitten's silken fur. It moved forward, he would reach it, and then a swift paw reached out leaving a track of blood and sharp stinging pain in its wake.
"You….. that hurt!" He blinked back sudden tears as he glared at the little animal. "I've come to rescue you." He cradled his hand and stuck out his lower lip narrowing his blue eyes at the beast. "Have you no friendly feelings toward me?" He had heard his father say that to his mother just the day before and tried it on feeling it suited the situation. He studied his hand and bent his head to lick the red blood. He sniffed loudly, the scratch hurt more than he had expected and he looked about uncertainly for his nurse.
"Lanike!" He shouted loudly feeling suddenly very small and wanting to go back to the safety of her arms. Then he heard it – the sound came from below, laughter and a girl's sharp voice. She spoke in Greek with an accent, but all the same, he knew the purport of her words. His father spoke Greek and their own tongue, that of the true lords of these proud lands, Macedonian. He knew a little Greek, he had listened to Eumenes, his father's secretary, the man was Greek and knew everything – as much as his father, at least. She was laughing at him! By Apollo's balls, how dare she!
He leaned down letting his head fall over the side of the tree, there stood a girl, Persian by the look of her clothing; he caught these things rather quickly. She had long, long dark braids hidden under a scarf of some filmy material the color of pale grass and was at least as old as his cousin Cyrene. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.
"Be silent, woman!" Alexander roared mimicking his father. For a moment, the girl stared up at him, her dark brown eyes wide with astonishment.
"Ah, it speaks, I did not know if you were a mute or no." She teased. He narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly aware the kitten had come down the branch and was standing near him, licking his bleeding hand. Feeling very brave with the kitten by his side, Alexander shook his fist at the girl.
"Interloper," he called down to her. "I am Alexander, son of Phillippos, who are you, a- a girl," He paused searching for the right words, he wanted to sound menacing like his father when he spoke to an emissary he didn't like, or at least that was how he imagined his father spoke. "You are a girl and matter none to me." He stuck his little chin out and without another word slide down the tree skinning his legs along the way. For a moment, he shut his eyes to the pain of the burn along his knees. The girl would not be quiet. She continued to tease him. At least he was sure that was what she was doing. His feet touched the ground, the kitten landed along with him and shot away quickly toward a clump of bushes. Alexander rose upon his toes, for she was unfortunately much taller than he and shook his fist again in her face. "Woman," He shouted again mimicking his father best he could. "Anger me not!" With that pronouncement, he darted away following the path of the kitten. He reached a thick row of bushes. The kitten had sought shelter somewhere here. Feeling a sense of commradery with the small creature, he burrowed deeply into the green shadows. Once he was sure of the security of his leafy fortress he fell in a tight bundle wrapping his arms about himself, and gave way to his tears. He was a ball of stinging pain and although he would admit it to no one, least of all that-that girl! His small fingers sought his sore and bleeding knees and probed the wounds there. He was feeling very small and unsure of himself. Again, he called out the name of his nurse and crept forward poking his head forth from the bushes.
"Do you call for your nurse?" She had followed him and knelt down before the bush. "Your knees are gashed and your hand bleeds. The men in my family bear their wound well. They do not cry." It was too much, not to be countenanced any longer, Alexander decided and in that moment forgetting all the rules he'd been taught leaned forward with his small fist balled and landed a blow on her small, perfect pink lips. She cried aloud in shock and grabbed her assailant. He bit the hand restraining him, kicked at her freeing himself, and ran. He ran for all he was worth straight into the strong arms of one of his father's men, Black Kletios, son of Dropsides.
TBC