Disclaimer: This story is a fruit of my imagination. The historical characters belong to themselves and all others to human inventiveness. The events (or likeness of them) described in the story never happened in reality.
Warnings: there are some for the future chapters but I can't put them in writing in order not to spoil the surprise. So, I'll tell you this – the moment you dislike something I wrote, simply stop reading.
A/N: This story was initially thought as one-off but I decided to break it in a few chapters since I don't know how much time it will take me to finish it. Readers' comments are highly valued and appreciated. I hope you find the reading interesting and pleasurable. The first chapter below is a teaser for what to come and, have no doubt, this story is about Alexander and Hephaistion.
Epirus, 327/326 BC
Olympias leaned on the palm of her hand and moved her body up. Then, shifting her legs in the wet grass and finding a foothold, she sat. In a dim light of dawn she picked up the sleeping forms of her maidservants lying in complete disarray around her. The bare limbs, peploi, himations, hairs, grass – all were mixed in erratically breathing and heaving mass that smelled of strong wine, strong spices and moisture saturated with mushrooms, vomit and other excrements. She waived her hand several times as if with this simple gesture she could drive the unpleasant smell away. This small physical act woke her senses even more and she became acutely aware of the disgusting sense of something foul that resided inside her mouth. She swirled her tongue trying to refresh herself but the effort almost made her retch. Feeling miserable she cast a desperate glance around and seeing what looked like a half empty wineskin, crawled towards it completely indifferent to the fact that somebody might see her in such poor state.
Gulping the remnants of the wine too quickly, she started to hiccup but mercifully it didn't last long. Then she realized that in her quest for the prized liquid of Dionysus, she left the circle of her faithful but completely drunk and foul smelling attendants and her lungs were actually breathing in rather fresh and slightly chilly morning air. She sat like that for a few moments, doing nothing and thinking of nothing and felt like her head started to clear and she didn't have the urge to throw up anymore.
Though feeling physically exhausted, her heart thumped with joy at the memory of yesterday celebration in Dionysus' honor. Back in Macedon, she never received this kind of support from Antipater, but back in her native Epirus, Aeacides, her cousin and regent after the death of Alexander, her brother, did everything to make her happy. She wondered sometimes if it was simply a ruse to lull her suspicions but if Aeacides harbored any ill will towards her, or her daughter, or her grandchildren, he had ample opportunities to kill them. And yet, not only he didn't do that but quite to the contrary, it seems he tried his best to gain Olympia's favor.
Her thoughts were interrupted by ringing laughter and young loud voices from somewhere in vicinity. She looked around and realized that the source of the commotion was coming from the wooded area just across the bubbling brook behind her back. Deciding to investigate, she stood up and covering her shoulders with someone's discarded himation, went in the direction of the noise. She waded into the brook and momentarily cringed as the chilling waters enveloped her ankles but she braved the cold and, carefully stepping from stone to stone, made it to the other side.
Almost immediately she saw what attracted her attention in the first place. A group of young and scantily dressed women were teasing an old man who sat on the ground with his back to the tree. He smiled at the taunts with a silliness of the drunk smacking his drooly lips each time somebody hit him with grapes or remnants of the honey cakes that girls fished out of their baskets. He was in his fifties or sixties, with patches of grey hair on his mostly bald scalp, small glistening eyes, bushy brows and bulby nose. Mostly naked, he sat with his legs spread apart, one hand was scratching his dirty knee and another trying to arouse his wobbly penis.
For some time Olympias remained unnoticed behind the girls who were having too much fun trying to hit the old man with improvised missiles and scabrous, obscene jokes. In any other time Olympias would reproach the young ladies for such behaviour, but it was the aftermath of Dionysus celebration and such attitude was normal. Besides, for some moments she was imagining such a festival happening in Macedon and the hated Antipater in the place of the old drunkard. The thought put a smile on her face and she was still indulging herself in this pleasant vision when Doriska, one of her serving women, tugged her at the himation.
"My queen, is everything all right?"
"Of course everything is all right," answered Olympias somewhat displeased at being interrupted. Her presence betrayed, she assumed a regal bearing and asked in a very authorative voice, "What's going on here?"
The taunting girls, themselves not very sober, still giggling and throwing things on the old man, explained to the Queen, that they were returning home from the evening revelry when this "drunk old goat" crossed their path and instead on continuing on his own way, mingled with them and started to fondle their breasts and even tried to mount one of them.
"We would welcome encounter with young, strong and beautiful Dionysus," grinned one of the girls, "but not this impotent Seilenos. Maybe we should find him a donkey and send him off on his journey."
"How dare you to offend one of Dionysus' followers?" suddenly thundered the Queen, her own lewd thoughts about Antipater in that role quickly forgotten. "Don't you know how dear his old teacher was to the god and what happened to those who defy him and despise his followers?"
"Then maybe you should take care of this lecherous thug and Dionysus will shower you in gold," responded one the girls who was too drunk to realize what danger she was putting herself in addressing Olympias in such a manner.
But before Olympias could react, Doriska chipped in, "I know this impudent wench. Her name is Pandea, she is the oldest daughter of the Dimnos, the baker, who supplies breads and pastries to the royal court. And that other is Philippa, daughter of the one eyed Petros, the smith." Doriska continued to point out and name each girl, providing the family background and what their fathers did for a living. Olympias listened carefully fixing each girl with a steady glance and making sure they realized that there was no escape from the Queen's anger and vengeance if she would deem it necessary.
"We meant no offence," stuttered frightfully one the girls. "Dionysus spirit is still in us from the yesterday's celebrations for which we have thank you, our Queen," the girl respectfully bowed.
"Very well then," Olympias decided to show clemency but still teach the girls a lesson, not so much for pestering the old man as for not showing her proper respect and recognizing her authority. "You must always remember that Dionysus should be revered in all his manifestations. Seilenos was Dionysus' foster father and much beloved by the god. It is not enough to show a proper respect to the god himself, but you should do it towards all his followers. You never know when Dionysus or any other god may choose to test your respect. As a punishment, I order you to take care of this old man. You are to clean him, to feed him and to take him to his home. And if he desires to fondle you, you should let him do so. And if he desires to taste the sweet spot hidden between your legs, you should accept it as will of god. And if he is unable to perform the deed, you should help him or satisfy him in other manner. Am I clear?"
"But….," started one of the girls not happy with the prospect; she was, however, hushed by her companions who sobered enough to realized that they wandered into dangerous waters and it was better to do as the Queen ordered.
O
A few days later…..
Olympia put a few small globules of myrrh onto the incense burner in front of Dionysus sculpture. The prized spice wasn't as rare and expensive luxury as it was during Philip's time and before. Alexander's conquests opened routes to the fabled countries of the East and all the riches of the world were at his disposal. He showered his mother and his sister with all kinds of presents sparing no thought as to the cost of his gifts. If only…. Olympias hopes flew into now habitual direction. An heir. The vast Macedonian Empire that stretched now for the immeasurable amounts of stadia, still didn't have a viable heir. True, after many years of refusal, Alexander at last married. But whom? A nobody from nowhere!
Olympias heart began to thumping wildly, as it did each time she remembered her newly arranged daughter-in-law. "The lowest of Philip's concubines was of a higher status! How Alexander could do this to me?! To marry some dirty slut, a daughter of a barbarian brigand when he had two daughters of Darius in his captivity! How could you be so blind, Alexander? Or you did it just to mock me? How could you?!" distressed Olympias threw a few more droplets of myrrh into the incense burner and the flames, as if feeling her frustration, loudly singed and blazed up. The fire illuminated the beautiful face of Dionysus. The statue, once crafted by Leochares when he stayed in Pella, was Queen's favorite. She reverently brought it from Macedonian capital to Epirus as her most prised possession. She could stare and marvel at it for hours.
Sometimes she wondered if the statue was even more beautiful than the god himself. The enigmatic smile of the luxuriously full lips, the curve of the brows, the twinkle hidden behind the eyes; the turn of the bare shoulders, the play of the muscles on the lean body, the flight of the right arm extended in a fluid motion of gifting unknown followers with a succulent bunch of grapes, the left hand resting half peacefully half alluringly on the god's thigh with slender fingers pointing in the direction of his beautifully formed fallos drove Olympias into exalting state of reverent worshipping mixed with adoration and sexual desire.
"O Dionysus," she closed her eyes and prayed as reverently as she did for many years now, "if only you could grant me one single gift of Alexander producing a true, worthy heir to his enormous empire. If only the mother of this heir be of noble, royal descent, mighty parents and respected by everybody."
"Is it all you want?" a seductive yet strong male voice broke the silence.
Olympias opened her eyes and nearly swooned at the image of the god who came alive in front of her. A firm hand grabbed her arm and the gesture allowed her to straighten. No, the statue was still there but now it has a double in a living form of the immortal Olympian in a middle of her chamber.
"Am I dreaming?" asked the Queen not daring to think otherwise.
"If you wish so," answered the god. "One way or another, I am here to grant you a wish you so ardently desire."
"But why?" managed Olympia and shuddered. Sleeping or not, the presence of the god was unnerving. Besides, he still was holding her arm and the touch was sending impulses through her body that she wasn't able either name or control.
"You took a good care of Seilenos, he got lost again. It happens to him rather often."
"It really was Seilenos?" asked Olympias and looked the god in the eyes. She regretted it immediately. The luxurious brown jewels with swirls of incredible violet sparkles sucked her essence into the cloud of emotions and desires she wasn't able to conquer. In stupor, she raised her hand to touch the Dionysus' lips but the god took a step back and clicked his fingers in front of Olympias' eyes to break his spell.
"This is not why I am here," he declared with a maddening tinge of humor in his voice, "do I remind you so much of my father?"
"What?" not being in the direct contact with the god any longer, Olympias somewhat came to her senses. "I beg your pardon, I didn't meant it, I…I…", she stumbled looking for a proper thing to say.
Dionysus laughed, more contempt than compassion in his voice, "I don't usually mind the entertainment with younger girls, and thirty years earlier I might have enjoyed the pleasure of making you dance and moan on my weapon but not now. So, what is your true heart's desire?"
Olympias blushed at this direct insult but had enough of her wits around not to rebuke the god. "My true desire is for Alexander to have a strong son. I wish the mother be of the royal blood so that a fruit of their loins will be accepted by everybody as a lawful heir in the years to come."
"So be it," smiled Dionysus, his easy going manner back. He turned to his own statue and, outstretching his arm to the wreath on his head, broke away a few grapes with a leaf. At the god's touch, the marble branch in his hand became alive and he seductively slow fed the juicy berries into Olympias' mouth. In the throes of desire again, the Queen accepted the grapes in her mouth and, unable to restrain herself, started to suck on the god's frivolous fingers. But instead of godly flesh, she suddenly felt something coarse and leathery in her mouth. She brought her hand to it, and pulled out few wine leaves already partially chewed up by her strong teeth. She shook her head and looked in bewilderment into the semidarkness. There was nobody in her chamber. She whirled around, looking for a god, but he couldn't be seen anywhere.
Did she imagine things? She stared for a few moments into the flames dancing merrily in the burner full of myrrh balls. Then she carefully looked at the statue and circled it slowly still hoping to find the god in the shadows.
"It was simply a hallucination," Olympias was back at her usual cold and calculating self, "I am still tired from the recent celebrations and the incident with those village girls harassing the old man played stupid games with my imagination." She wanted to add more myrrh to the incense burner and then realized that the remnants of the chewed wine leaves were still in her right hand. She looked with apprehension at the wreath on Dionysus' head – the small branch of grapes was visibly broken from the place it was before.