Amyntor looked with disinterest at the boy, who sat playing with a terracotta toy in the middle of the room.
He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms against his chest, sighing as he grew bored of waiting for Philip, who was bidding farewell to his children in the next room. If he had a choice, he would have waited with the others, outside the palace, but it had become Philip's habit to be concerned for him and so he did as he was bid and waited here.
The child got to his feet and looked over at him, before looking around the room, as if to check they were still alone. He held up the toy, studying it, then, almost at a run, he came to Amyntor.
"Play rabbit," he said, holding up the toy, his small fingers just able to reach around it.
Amyntor glanced down, the terracotta was in the form of a rabbit. He looked back up and out towards the window, ignoring the hand on his leg, which then pulled at his chiton.
The door to the adjoining room opened, and Philip strode out, with his son, Alexander, carried on his hip. Every inch the proud father, he turned to watch the nurse, Lanike, follow with the newborn Cleopatra, before looking towards Amyntor.
"Your son wants lifting up," Philip commented.
Looking down, Amyntor was greeted by eyes as blue as his own, he stepped away, breaking free, aware that the child fell but feeling nothing by it.
"Amyntor!" chided Lanike, handing Cleopatra to another while coming forward to lift the boy in to her arms, who promptly called her mother and smiled upon her. "How long will you blame the child for his mother's death? He came close to death himself, and survived. To what? A father who chooses to disown him?"
Amyntor looked, with all the disdain that he could muster, at the boy. "Give him to a childless couple, they'll be glad of him, I'm sure."
"He's staying here," Philip said, his voice determined. "He'll be brought up here, if you will not have him." Philip exhaled loudly, shaking his head at Amyntor. "What will it take? He's a part of Tethys, all you have of her now."
Amyntor looked at the boy, not even wanting to acknowledge that he was his son. Though, for a short while he had, when they came to him on campaign, with news that Tethys had given birth to a boy. He had got drunk that night, planned for the future, telling everyone he had a son, not able to wait until battle was done, when he could return and embrace the wife he loved so much and hold his newborn child in his arms.
Then, the day the messenger came with news of Alexander's birth, while everyone celebrated in some ironic parody, the messenger had found him out and told him of Tethys' death. Sweet Tethys, so beautiful and kind, all he had ever wanted, taken from him, she had never recovered from the birth. He was told the boy was ill but that did not matter to him, the child's birth had caused his mother's death.
Wrapped in grief he had returned to Pella, Tethys' pyre had long since been lit and all that remained were ashes and the boy, who Lanike had named after the god, Hephaestus, because the child had clung to life, as if he were forged of the strongest metal. He remembered that was the reason. Lanike thought he might choose another name but it did not matter, he wanted nothing to do with him.
"It's been two years since Tethys' death," Amyntor replied, looking at Philip. "How many times must you order me here before you realise I do not want him? We have a rebellion to deal with, a battle to fight, can we not just go to it?"
"I worry for you, Amyntor," Philip said, but he made his way out of the room, still carrying Alexander, as he went to join his army.
Lanike signalled for Cleopatra to be returned to the nursery, and would have left Amyntor's son there too but Alexander struggled in his father's arms, looking for his playmate, so to avoid any tantrums, she followed close to Philip with the boy held in her arms.
A cheer went up as Philip appeared before his army, holding up Alexander for them all to see, laughing proudly, swinging the child around, delighted in his son's laughter.
Amyntor leaned over to whisper in Lanike's ear. "Hyperenor and Diomede have no child, I hear that Diomede goes daily to the temple to pray for a son. Grant her wish, Lanike, you have my blessing."
"Hephaistion should know his father," Lanike snapped, just as the boy in her arms reached for Philip.
"Papa," Hephaistion called out, laughing at the man who swung his friend so high, wanting to be lifted high too.
Amyntor smiled at Lanike. "Hyperenor will do just as well." He walked away, to where his page, Periphas was waiting with his horse, looking around, acknowledging his men.
Philip handed Alexander to Lanike, waiting for her to let Hephaistion down to the ground, before going to his own horse and with a final cry to the gods, to bring them victory, he led the way.
As well as Periphas, who appeared infatuated with him, Amyntor was joined by Cleitus who, at fifteen years of age, seemed to think himself a veteran of battle, when in truth this would be only his second campaign.
Just growing his jet black beard, Amyntor often caught Cleitus studying his own, as he did with the other men, as if judging whether it was long enough or thick enough to make him seem older than his years. So keen to prove himself, Cleitus reminded Amyntor of himself at that age and cringed a little when he realised that, at twenty-eight, they had thirteen years between them.
Looking for Philip, he took comfort that the king. was now thirty, the fact made Amyntor not feel so old.
"Should you not be riding with your troop?" Periphas asked Cleitus.
"He's alright where he is," Amyntor said, winking at the new arrival.
"Philip won't object," Cleitus said. "Why? Would you rather ride with Amyntor alone?"
Periphas flushed, went to speak and no words came. Too embarrassed to remain he pulled his horse back and rode of to the other pages.
Cleitus laughed . "Don't you get tired of him?"
Amyntor looked over at Periphas, catching his eye before the young boy looked away again. "He's good at his job."
"Because he adores you," replied Cleitus. "He slavers over your long chestnut hair, your eyes, your lips, your thighs," he informed him, doing an impression of the lovesick boy as he spoke. You should hear him talking to the others, as if you were some god. He longs for you to bed him and all he can do to relieve his frustration is to polish your armour and be at your beck and call."
"Then I shall have to tell him that I have no interest," Amyntor said.
There was a silence between them for a while before Cleitus spoke again. "Have you not lain with anyone since?"
Amyntor shook his head. "No woman could compare."
Again, Cleitus hesitated. "But perhaps in time."
Laughing bitterly, Amyntor looked at Cleitus. "That's what they all say, but two years on it's still the same. I only knew Tethys for two years and the time, with her, seemed to fly and the time, without her, seems endless to me."
Cleitus nodded, as if at fifteen he was wiser than anyone. "Who needs women anyway?" he said. "There is still the glory of battle and the comradeship of good friends."
"Who said that? Parmenion? Antipater? Philip? Whose words are you quoting, Cleitus? Have some of mine. That battle loses its pleasure when it takes you far from home and from the ones you love, that good friends can find no words of comfort when you need them and a loving touch and a gentle word can be everything, so when you find that person to love, stay with them, no matter what the cost."
"I..." Cleitus could find no words now.
"Think, before you speak, Cleitus. Remember that," Amyntor said, pushing his horse forward, cantering ahead to ride alone.
Philip turned in time to see Amyntor riding away from Cleitus, he sighed and shook his head, wondering what it would take to break his friend's melancholy, fearing for him, as he did so often now, thinking that Amyntor might die in battle, because he wished to die.
He knew himself as a man who could not be faithful, it was a defence he used like he might use a stockade or a wall of sarrisas held by the phalanx, he had been taught that to love was weak by both his father and by life itself. Olympias was such an example, he had been a fool for her, made weak by what he thought was love, for the first time ever he had lowered his defences.
Knowing now he should have just taken his pleasure and moved on, denied any offspring by their coupling, he had married the girl and only then realised she was a she-wolf, a daughter of Medusa, a scheming, manipulative bitch who he was bound to, even though he knew he would not lie with her any more.
He spat on the ground as he thought of the trouble he had brought upon himself, wishing that Amyntor had been with him at Samothrace, he trusted his opinion as he trusted Parmenion's decisiveness on the battlefield.
"One battle should see an end of it," Parmenion said.
Philip had not been aware of his general approaching, his voice shook him from his thoughts, he grunted in reply. "Still they draw us out of Pella, and while the Thracians rebel then others think that they might do the same?"
Parmenion frowned. "Are you getting tired of it all?"
"Never," laughed Philip, "but you know my plans, Parmenion. These are mere skirmishes in the grand plan I have of things. I want to put Macedon on the map, have an army the rest of Greece envies...fears."
"With envy you make enemies," cautioned Parmenion.
Resting his hand on his thigh, Philip leaned over to Parmenion as if he were sharing a secret. "Everyone is our enemy, but win a battle and they suddenly want to be your friend."
Parmenion laughed, then looked over to Amyntor. "I'm worried for him," he said, nodding in the direction of the man he talked about. "Perhaps we should put someone else with him, to watch him, take over if..."
"If he should die in battle?" Philip shook his head. "His men won't let him, and even if he fell they are well-trained enough, by him, to see the job done."
"And what about you?" Parmenion asked, lowering his voice.
"If I should die then I know I have you to lead the way," Philip replied, then gave a wry smile because he knew what Parmenion spoke of. "I don't want to lose him." He considered for a while. "Have someone there, but don't make it too obvious."
Philip looked back to Amyntor. There was a time, he remembered, when they had meant more to each other. They never spoke of it now, but no-one had come closer to his heart. He had done his duty, as a king he needed no distractions. His defences had gone up and he had cast Amyntor aside.
That first night the army camped on the outskirts of a small village, whose elders were only too happy to provide houses to accommodate the king and his companions.
Having seen his men settled, checked the horses and set guards, Amyntor came to the room he had been allocated, to find Periphas fussing around, giving orders to two other pages younger than himself.
'Like a wife', Amyntor thought, but Tethys had never shouted orders or made such a commotion in organising their home. It was a peaceful, happy home he had, with Tethys always there to pour him wine, to listen, to share his deepest secrets and to laugh and love with him.
He felt a cold hand grip his heart as he remembered going back there, after she had died. That was a mistake. She had created a warm oasis in the desert of his life but the marble walls and stone floors were just an empty thing without her there. Her voice, her songs, seemed to echo through the house, her scent still on her gowns, then there were her combs, her rings, necklaces, bracelets, which had only served to enhance her beauty in life. They had such hopes, such love and he had said farewell, kissed her, never thinking that it would be for the last time, not knowing he would never see her face again.
Periphas had done his best but it really did not matter any more.
"Parmenion took the biggest room, after the king...next to the king's," Periphas informed him, "then he took another, better room than this, for Nicanor saying it was close to his own..."
"Just a father doing the best for his son," Amyntor replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he remembered Tethys wishing for a boy.
Periphas frowned as if that was not the answer he wished to hear. "I have some water being heated for you, so you can wash, before supper."
Amyntor thanked the boy, then dismissed him, before sitting on the bed, not feeling the straw mattress give so much. He looked about, noting the rough stone walls, the broken chair in one corner, the small table with a lamp upon it, already burning as the one window was high up and small, not casting much of the evening light in to the room.
Another page came with the water and a fresh chiton, placing the bowl upon the broken chair, while Periphas hovered in the doorway, mumbling something to the other boy, as he passed by, before leaving and closing the creaking wooden door behind him.
Having washed and then put on the clean clothes, Amyntor made his way down to the largest room, where Philip sat talking with Nicanor and Cleitus about his time at Thebes, Parmenion soon joined them along with other senior ranking officers and a basic supper was served, provided by the villagers, of bread and cheese with wine to wash it down with.
Three of the village elders were with them, seeming flattered by the king's visit but concerned that their hospitality might be lacking in what the king was used to, while talk turned, as it always did, to battle, they argued amongst themselves that they should have killed a calf.
Amyntor moved to the back of the hall, drinking down his wine and having more brought when he was done. He no longer felt a part of it, not like he had, not like before.
Philip ended the supper earlier than he usually would, thanking his hosts and ordering everyone to their beds.
Making his way back to his room, a little unsteadily, Amyntor sat on the bed and struggled to kick off his boots, wondering if it would be worth the effort to undress. He got one boot off, then reached down to tug off the other, throwing it against the wall.
There was a gentle knock upon the door and, for a moment, he thought it would be Periphas come to fuss over him once more, but as he looked up he saw Philip, studying him, the same concern on his face as he always wore for him these days.
"Perhaps it was a mistake to have you come," Philip said.
Amyntor stood up. "Because you think I seek death on the battlefield?"
Philip nodded.
"I have a duty to my men," Amyntor said sadly, "I won't look for death but if it found me then I would welcome it."
"What can I do?" Philip asked. "What should I do?"
"Bring Tethys back."
Philip shook his head. "I pray that you find love again, Amyntor."
"It's not that easy to find, though you don't seem to have any difficulty, Philip. Or is that because you are a king?"
"And before I was, I found love then, from you," Philip said, softly.
Amyntor laughed. "You pray that I find love, when love comes in many guises. Tethys' love was true, yours was not."
Philip reached up to caress the side of Amyntor's face. "I loved you, as much as I could, we always knew one day...that we could not go on."
Amyntor stared in to Philip's eyes, trying to see the truth in them, he saw pain and loss, knowing them so well himself, but he also saw hope, and as he did he realised that Philip was reaching for him, pulling him close in to an embrace, his lips finding his own.
He struggled against it, not wanting it, but Philip would not release him, Philip's tongue invaded his mouth and it was touch, something familiar, a lifeline to cling to and he found himself kissing back, though it had been years since he had known this man and the notion that this man was now his king kept surfacing in his mind.
It was when Philip reached up to unclip his chiton that his mind seemed to clear, the kisses, the embraces, he could take comfort from them but he wanted nothing more. Philip pulled the cloth down, caressed his chest, then moved his hand down to clasp his thigh.
Amyntor pushed back, breaking the embrace but Philip only came back holding him, turning him, pushing him against the wall.
Putting his hands up, Amyntor felt the rough stone wall, Philip biting at his neck, he wanted to fight back, to stop it but his body betrayed him, craving the contact, wanting the release.
Bracing his arms, offering himself, Amyntor felt Philip's turgid penis push between his thighs, felt a hand on his hip and a hand reaching for him, and he thrust forward, crying out and throwing his head back as he was held. It had been too long, he felt like a starving man put before a banquet, he moved against Philip, so grateful for the touch.
Philip's tastes had changed over the years, he wanted more than to nestle between his thighs. Amyntor felt him withdraw and then a finger pushing at his centre, then another, stretching him, preparing him. Soon Philip withdrew his fingers only to replace them with his firm erection, whispering his desire as he gently entered him and began to thrust.
Amyntor reached back, wanting Philip to go deeper, to touch his soul if he could. There was some pain but that felt good, that the comfort should not come without some cost. Pushed against the wall by Philip's desire he rested his head on the stone, turning it in the direction of the door, to see Periphas, clutching a linen cloth, watching the scene before him, momentarily, before disappearing from sight.
Too far gone to care, Amyntor moved in to Philip's firm grasp, feeling waves of pleasure surge through him, arching his back and crying out as he found his release, just coming down from it as Philip thrust hard, embracing him as he shuddered to a close, promising his affection in a litany of praise as he always had before.
Philip struggled for breath, his heart beating so fast, and for a moment he was back at Pella, in the stables where he had first taken Amyntor. The scent of the man, the touch of him, he had not forgotten, although they had not beards then and a few less scars upon their bodies.
He ran his hand along Amyntor's shoulders wondering how he ever had the strength to let him go, he kissed his neck and thanked him, then withdrew, looking over at the bed, thinking how good it would be to just lie with this man, to just be.
"I did not plan this when I came here," he said.
Amyntor nodded, swallowed, then looked back to him. "It had to be with someone I suppose, the first time, since Tethys."
Philip twisted the long chestnut hair around his hand, like he had in the past, it still felt soft, like the finest silk. "I missed you, Amyntor," he whispered, stroking his hand along his companion's arm, feeling the muscles flex within.
"I'm a little too old to be your eromenos, Philip."
"A king can make his own rules." Philip nipped Amyntor's shoulder, thinking it would be good to rekindle what had been lost.
Amyntor turned round to look on him, reached up to caress his face, Philip leaned in to the touch. "Those days are gone," Amyntor whispered, quickly embracing him before pulling back, stepping away.
Philip adjusted his clothing then watched as Amyntor moved across the small room, before turning back to him.
"Why not take it for what it is then?" Philip suggested. "Why not use each other to find some comfort, to relieve the stress of life." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, looking over to the bed, once more, hoping to receive an invitation to stay. None came.
Amyntor was silent, studying him, no doubt thinking of his life with Tethys in comparison with what he was being offered now. Philip chewed the inside of his mouth knowing he could never offer such devotion, that he had his own selfish reasons for wanting Amyntor within his reach. Not just the sex drew him to Amyntor, it never was just about that, he desired the quiet friendship, the understanding looks from those blue eyes and just to be with him, if he were honest with himself, he had never seen a man more beautiful than Amyntor. So, they weren't boys anymore, but Amyntor held more appeal than any of them.
Deciding it was better to retreat than to attack again, Philip went to the door, looking back to wish Amyntor health, before walking out of the room. He closed the door behind him, tried to understand what he felt inside, he shook his head, trying to calm the turmoil deep inside, then made his way to his bed wishing things had never changed, longing for the past.
Amyntor woke at dawn, turning in the bed to look at the sunlight streaming in through the small window. He sighed and brought his right arm behind him, to prop his arm upon it.
Philip.
He tried to comprehend what he felt, running through the previous day's events, the things that they had said, realising he half regretted what had occurred but that the other half of him longed to be touched that way again, he felt aroused, only things were complicated. Unlike before, Philip was now the king, they were older, he was too old to be giving himself to another man, no matter who he was, and he had known devotion, the touch of a woman was not something that he wanted to give up. When he was ready he wanted to be with a woman once more.
He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back off his face. It was all too complicated, perhaps if he had the chance to start again, somewhere new, like Athens. It was an idea he had been thinking about for some time, that he needed to get away from all he knew, and he lay and considered how he would make his living in a place like that.
His thoughts were interrupted by Periphas, who came sullenly in to the room, wishing him joy as he dropped a fresh bowl of water on the chair, causing water to splash over its sides.
Amyntor sat up. "I can guess what has caused this dark mood," he said.
Periphas bent down to pick up the discarded chiton from the floor, folding it before putting it on the bed, then fetching the boots, putting them together by the wall.
"Don't be a child, Periphas," Amyntor warned.
"I'm not," Periphas snapped back, "but you allowed the king..."
"To touch me?" Amyntor got up from the bed, walking over to the bowl, wetting a cloth and beginning to wash himself. "It has nothing to do with you," he said, rubbing the cloth between his legs, bringing it round to clean his buttocks. "Are the men ready?"
"When you are," Periphas replied, quietly. He lifted up the chiton and handed it to Amyntor, his eyes filled with tears. "I would have offered myself, to you, that way," he said.
"You would have spent a long while waiting for me to seduce you," Amyntor replied, without thinking, looking over just in time to see the boy's face, to see the pain he had caused. He reached for the chiton. "I suppose I needed to be seduced."
Periphas forced a smile. "Philip takes anyone he pleases."
"I wanted it too," Amyntor replied, softly, before putting on the chiton, finding his belt on the floor and picking it up then fastening it. "I'll need my armour but I'll put it on after breakfast."
He sat on the bed and pulled on his boots, but as he stood Periphas grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him leaving.
"If I came to you tonight, if I was in your bed?" he asked.
Amyntor shook his head. "Then you would find yourself in the phalanx the next morning, and disappointed for your efforts."
He knew the boy was crying as he left, but he told himself it was no matter and headed down for breakfast.