Theseus studied the three Persian men before him, prisoners now, seated on the dry grass with their hands tied behind them. They had been captured in the first, and only, fight they had had since leaving Athens, before they even reached Alexander's army.
Digging the wooden shaft of his spear into the ground, he rested his head momentarily along it, closing his eyes, only to see himself in the recent skirmish, where the men had been captured. He had thought his life was over, that Dione, the childhood sweetheart he had recently married, would soon find herself a widow.
Opening his eyes, he ran his hand through his curly, light brown hair and then pulled at his beard, deciding it needed trimming, and watched the men he had been asked to guard with three others of his group. They sat still, no longer a threat, no longer talking amongst each other as they had been at first. His hand reached in to a leather pouch, attached to his belt, and he brought out a small terracotta head, resting it in his palm. His father had made it for him, a portrait of Dione. He had not inherited his father's skill, like his elder brother had. If he had been able to carve people's features in clay then he would not be on his way to fight, but working in his father's shop. His father had skilfully carved the perfect nose, the pert lips, the way her hair framed her face, all in minute detail. It had been a parting gift, and was now his only treasure.
Sighing, he reminded himself that a soldier's life was the only way for him to get rich, the only way he could afford land to buy a farm. He lifted the terracotta head to his lips, kissed it and placed it back in the pouch.One of the other guards, Phylacus, a boy his own age, of twenty years, laughed at him and shouted out that he was lovesick and that it was a wonder he survived the battle.
Theseus smiled at him, saying nothing. He had seen Phylacus during the fight, that's all it was - no battle, he had seen the fear on his face, and there had been only twenty or so Persians, and a hundred of them. Good odds for fighting, but the Persians knew what they were doing, whereas their captain, Aepytus, while ordering the attack, seemed at a loss for how to despatch his forces. Ten of them had been killed, eight of them boys who had horses, who had ridden off too eagerly. Two more killed as they ran over on foot, and six were injured. If they survived, they would have to continue the journey in the supply carts. That's all they were meant to be doing, as yet, bringing supplies to Alexander.
Absently, his hand reached in the leather pouch, and his thumb caressed Dione's face. She thought she might be with child, when he left. The knowledge of that had almost made him stay in Athens, but then if he was going to be a father…he had to fight, and somehow stay alive. He looked at the prisoners. They had managed to kill five Persians, twelve had ridden off, but these three had been set on, pulled from their horses and only then did numbers seem to matter. They would have been killed, but Aepytus had ordered them held, saying they should be questioned, that Alexander might find them useful to interrogate.
His stomach rumbled and he looked back to camp, wondering when he would be relieved of guard duty. He had been standing in the one spot for most of the day and now it was late afternoon. He shifted his feet and flexed his legs, then caught Phylacus doing the same, and they smiled at each other in mutual agreement that they should soon be replaced.
Leaning again, on the shaft of his spear, he set his mind to the question of why he was going to fight for Alexander, when Demosthenes had always spoken with such venom against him. He had seen Demosthenes, heard him speak, but had not been swayed by any rhetoric. He had gone to see Alexander, when he came to Athens, with the ashes of the dead from Chaeronea, but the crowd was too great and all he managed to see, from where he stood, was the back of his head, the golden hair. He and Dione had run to get a clearer view, climbing the steps to a large house, turning to see the soldiers who accompanied him, Alexander had already ridden on.
There was a man who talked to him of life in Persia, fighting for Darius with gold practically being thrown at you. He spoke of a ship leaving with mercenaries sworn to the Great King. He was tempted, but Dione convinced him to fight for Alexander, he suspected she had been overly impressed by the Macedonians who came to Athens. So, he offered his services to Aepytus and hoped he had made the right choice.
At this thought, Theseus laughed to himself. His services. He shook his head and smiled. He had not even been considered an outstanding hoplite, told he would be the weak link in any phalanx, never able to perfect any skills. The smile disappeared as he considered that instead of going home a rich man he was more then likely to be returned as ashes. Would they return ashes of the dead, like after Chaeronea? Theseus was pondering this as a small group of Macedonian cavalry rode in to the camp, like an echo of that day, which already seemed so long ago, back in Athens.
Distracted from his duty, he turned to look on them, the first proper soldiers he had seen since he had landed and they had headed for Issus. He looked down at the breastplate he wore, it had been his father's, his sword had been his grandfather's, his spear his great grandfather's, his chiton patched by his mother. Nothing so fine as the cavalry before him, he could almost hear the hoplite commander, back in Athens, complaining about his kit.
The Macedonians looked around, taking in everything. At their head,the finest of them all, a strikingly handsome man, with long brown hair and the bluest eyes, which gazed out from under the peak of the helmet he wore. His long legs were relaxed along the sides of his horse, his skin tanned, his body muscular. As the blue eyes turned to look in his direction, Theseus stood to attention and turned back towards the prisoners, but was quickly tempted to look back, to see the cavalry dismounting, to see Aepytus appear to greet them. There were only men holding horses to be seen then, so Theseus leaned on his shaft, once more, and turned his thoughts to home.
A short while after, Aepytus came over, with the cavalry leader. He had removed the helmet to reveal a handsome face, and he looked an impressive figure in his fine chiton, his linen corselet and with a dark blue chalmys around his shoulders, held by an expensive looking gold brooch. His physique matched with what was considered attractive, just the right musculature on the lean body. Aepytus' face was flushed, like it always was when he was angry over something. He chewed his lip, another sign.
"Your task was to bring supplies, not engage the enemy," the cavalry commander said, his voice soft but with a tone that would brook no argument.
Nodding towards the prisoners, Aepytus spoke. "It will be worthwhile when the men are interrogated. I'm sure they can provide useful information for Alexander."
"You might have failed to notice we are in Persia," the cavalry leader said, turning on the captain, as if he was talking to a fool. "The scouting party I lead could have taken ten times as many prisoners, if we needed any more information. Alexander knows enough, when it comes to battle he will be ready."
Theseus bit his lip, to stop a smile coming to his face. Aepytus had been nothing but a bully for the whole trip, and finally he was being spoken to with the same contempt he used on every man in his command.
The Macedonian officer shook his head. "I'll send my men on in the morning. The supplies are late, I shall ride back with you and try to make up some time by ensuring you don't decide to take on the Persian army single-handed." He walked off then, and over to his men, who grinned at him, knowing that the inept captain had been chastised.
Aepytus, pulled a face, calling over his second in command, Meriones, who was never far from him. While he waited for the man to reach him he spat on the ground, his hands on his hips, looking over at the prisoners, then he shook his head and spat again. "Do you know who he is?" Aepytus asked.
"If he comes with orders from Alexander…" Meriones began.
"From Alexander's bed," snapped Aepytus. "He is Hephaistion, Alexander's favourite, given privileges and commands he's not qualified to take on." He spat again. "Coming here, telling me that I should concentrate on moving supplies. I'm a soldier by Zeus and he thinks that I don't know my job. At least I earned my position on merit, not merit by my position." The last remark seemed to amuse Aepytus, easing some of the anger.
"Do you think he knows about the coming battle?" asked Meriones.
"He lies with the king, he'd hear things from him, sure enough. He'll go back to Alexander and make out I'm incompetent." Aepytus kicked at the dirt with his booted foot. "I don't care if Alexander himself bawls me out for what I have done. So, I lost men, I got three prisoners to interrogate, and he'll be angry with Hephaistion for having me let them go." He looked at Meriones. "Have them released."
Meriones looked at the prisoners. Men had died to take them, he knew it, the look on his face showed that he disliked Aepytus' decision. "They are apparently in abundance, not needed, Meriones. Release them," Aepytus ordered, before walking off.
Meriones hesitated, his hand faltering at his dagger, then he called for Phylacus and had him cut the ropes that held the men. Theseus almost spoke up, almost questioned the decision. They might not be of any worth, but they had them now and it seemed foolish to release them. He wasn't sure that the cavalry commander…Hephaistion, had intended for Aepytus to release them.
The Persians got to their feet, rubbing at their wrists. Meriones could not speak Persian, none of them could, not even Aepytus, he waved his arms, signalling for them to go. The released prisoners laughed nervously, they looked suspicious as if they might be killed as they ran away. Taking their chance, they stepped back a few paces, before running off in to the open countryside around them.
Meriones seemed to be studying the ground, for a long while he stood in thought. Then he looked up, right in to Theseus' eyes so that Theseus could see the man was torn between his duty to his captain and his belief that the man was not worth following. "Go. Get something to eat," Meriones said, but made no move to go with them.
Phylacus pulled Theseus along, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll wager the Macedonian won't like it when he finds out the prisoners have gone," he grinned. Theseus forced a smile, looking back over his left shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the Persians. They walked past the Macedonian cavalry, to see them lighting a fire, sitting round talking and sharing wine and food. The commander sat amongst them, laughing at some joke. He looked so relaxed, so competent, that Theseus sent a silent prayer, of thanks, to Zeus that he would be staying with them for the remainder of their journey.
Phylacus would have won the wager, had he decided to accept it. Hephaistion was not best pleased to find that the prisoners had been released and Aepytus had found himself publicly chastised for his ill decision.
Theseus had always been criticised by the hoplite commander back in Athens, so that his friends could hear, compounding his embarrassment. Aepytus was suffering the same fate now, and he wondered if Hephaistion meant for the prisoners to be brought along or killed. He did not like the idea of executing anyone, even men who might gladly have killed him first, and he wondered again if he was suited to army life.
They broke camp, and as they did so Hephaistion said farewell to his own men. He pointed out a range of hills, no doubt giving orders where they were to head, then stood and watched as the others rode away. Theseus wondered why they all had not remained, then turned his attentions to collecting his belongings and carrying them to the nearest wagon.
All of the injured men had survived the night, they rested in the wagon, looking sorry for themselves as Theseus stowed his gear. Aepytus was on his horse, Meriones too, calling to the thirty other riders in their group to follow them as they headed up to lead the wagons. That left forty-two of them, on foot, trailing behind.
Hephaistion galloped up to the front. Theseus did not see what occurred then, but soon four riders galloped off, two to the left, two to the right, then the rest of their cavalry fell back to flank them. Phylacus asked what was happening, and was told that they were Hephaistion's orders, that scouts had been sent out to look for trouble ahead, that they were to guard the hoplites. Theseus smiled, it was good to have Hephaistion with them. He hefted his spear over his shoulder and stepped out smartly, humming a love song and thinking of Dione.
At mid-day Aepytus called a halt, Theseus caught him looking over to Hephaistion, almost defying him to object. He did. Pointing out that where they had stopped they would be an easy target, and if they were attacked there were no safe places they could get to quickly.
Having run up to the leading wagon, the moment they had stopped, intending to get some wine and food, Theseus found he lost his appetite with the thought they might be in danger. He had been reaching in for some cheese, but withdrew his hand and looked to Aepytus, hoping they could keep going, to somewhere safe.
"I've paid for these men to come here," Aepytus said. "I, alone,have got them this far…without help, or advice. I think I know how to keep my men safe."
Phylacus nudged Theseus, climbing in to the wagon and fetching out a wineskin and some cheese for himself.
"You would have been safe enough on the crossing," Hephaistion replied. "Safe enough coming through land already conquered. But now you are coming to the edge of what is safe. There will be a battle soon, thousands of men have been called to it by Darius. You are late with these supplies - too many stops for rest, deciding to take up a fight for no reason…"
"We are at war," Aepytus blustered, "I saw the enemy and I attacked."
"I'm sure the men you lost, in a needless skirmish, would thank you for it, Aepytus," Hephaistion said. "Now, let's keep moving until we find a safer place to stop."
Aepytus was frantically chewing the inside of his mouth, his face red. He opened his mouth to say more, was actually going to dismount, when two of the scouts returned at the gallop.
"Persians! Over two hundred of them!" one cried out, as he got within earshot. "They are coming this way."
Hephaistion shook his head and looked at Aepytus. "You killed a couple of ants and disturbed the whole nest in the process," he said. He looked to the scouts, their horses blown. "Go to the back, have the injured mount up behind others, there is no other choice. Ride back to the last friendly village you came through. Keep out of sight, split up if necessary."
The rider nodded his understanding, then pushed his horse on towards the rear.
"We're under threat and you're sending men away," Aepytus protested, a look of scorn on his face.
Hephaistion looked over to his right, then turned his horse to glare on Aepytus. "We're outnumbered. Outclassed. What do you suggest, Aepytus? That we leave our injured to be slaughtered?" Hephaistion shook his head again, then galloped down the line to hurry things along.
Aepytus ordered that the wagons be moved right, towards some rocks. He acted as though they would fight. Theseus stayed with the first wagon, running to the back of it, as it turned, and pushing it, as if it would move faster that way. He looked to his right and saw the other wagons turning, then a shout went up and he looked left to see a mass of Persian cavalry, appearing on the horizon. He wanted to run, his legs went weak.
Hephaistion came back to the front, appearing like a god. "Abandon the wagons," he shouted. "Fall back. Every man for himself, head back, like the others, to the nearest village. Help them," Hephaistion called to the cavalry, pointing to some of the men who had begun to run. The cavalry followed his orders and these men found themselves lifted up, carried away from the danger.
Theseus reached for his spear, stepping back as he watched the Persian cavalry move forward at the trot. He looked back to see Hephaistion cutting the horses free, that had pulled the wagons, holding them until they could be taken and used to ride to safety. Others in the group were taking them, too many crowding for them. Theseus looked for Phylacus, seeing him in the first wagon, fetching what supplies he thought he could carry. In the distance the wave of Persians picked up speed.
Meriones galloped by them, calling for them to hurry, to reach safety. He stopped for no-one and soon made up ground as he disappeared from sight.
Theseus ran back to Phylacus, calling for him to hurry, pulling at his chiton, relieved as Phylacus jumped down to him. He was just looking to where they should run to when Aepytus' horse came in front of them. The man had his sword drawn, and drove his horse in to them.
"Form a line!" he ordered.
Theseus looked around, there were about twenty of them left. He looked for Hephaistion, to see him in the distance, reaching for someone who was running, lifting him up, taking him to safety.
"Form a line!" Aepytus yelled.
Phylacus shook his head. "Run, Theseus," he shouted.
Theseus did as his friend ordered. If there was one thing he was good at it was running. He dropped his spear, not daring to think of turning round and striking out with it. He heard Phylacus behind him, and turned to see Aepytus engulfed by the cavalry, heard the cries as the men he had travelled with and befriended were cut down. An arrow flew by him, then another. He ran towards the rocks, seeing an opening they could head for. He turned back in time to see Phylacus fall, he had lost ground in his efforts to carry wineskinsand a sack of food.
"Phylacus!"
Theseus found himself frozen to the spot. Another arrow came at him, it sliced across his upper left arm. He was a dead man. The target for a cavalryman, who was riding towards him, already drawing another arrow for his bow, aiming at him…
The cavalryman fell backwards as a javelin struck him in the chest.
"Come on!"
It was Hephaistion. Reining his horse in beside him, he held down his hand, reaching for him, pulling him up behind him, before urging his horse in to a gallop.
Theseus held on, not daring to look back, thinking at any moment he would feel an arrow in his back. He had never been so sure on horses, but was aware that a fall would mean certain death, if not from the fall itself, but from the Persians who followed in pursuit. They seemed alone in the world, his remaining comrades had scattered.
Hephaistion guided his horse left, across the plain and in to a forest, not slowing down. He glanced back, then found more speed from his horse, galloping down banks, leaping over fallen tree trunks. Theseus clung on, more afraid than he had ever been, wishing it would all stop.
The woods became so dense that they eventually had to slow down. The horse was blowing hard and Hephaistion patted its neck, spoke soothingly and looked back the way that they had come, lifting back his helmet, trying to listen.
"Do you hear anything?" he whispered to Theseus.
"Only the beating of my heart," Theseus replied, earning a smile from Hephaistion.
Hephaistion hesitated for a moment, before swinging his right leg over the horse's neck and dropping to the ground. He removed his helmet, letting it fall, then signalled for him to stay put, as he picked his way, through fallen branches and leaves, to see if they had been followed.
Theseus lost sight of him, and had a momentary panic that he might find himself alone. He reached for the reins, moving forward on the horse, feeling the bellow like movement of its lungs as they took in air. It turned its head, its ears pricked to listen too. Theseus looked for Hephaistion, hoping he would return soon. His arm hurt, he looked down to see blood running from the long open wound, he looked away and laughed at the thought of a soldier that could not stand the sight of blood.
Hephaistion soon came back. "I can't hear anything," he whispered, "I can't see anything either."
Theseus gave a sigh of relief.
"Don't be so quick to think yourself safe," Hephaistion laughed. "Though I imagine they were on their way to join Darius, and won't want to spend too long on a search for Greek mercenaries, especially not in such small numbers as Aepytus was bringing."
"I think they killed him," Theseus whispered back.
"That won't be a loss," replied Hephaistion. "Jump down, my mare needs to rest," he added.
Trying to copy Hephaistion's dismount, Theseus swung his right leg over the mare's neck and allowed himself to fall forward on to the ground, but he fell on to his knees, before struggling to get up quickly. He looked at the cavalry commander to see him hiding his laughter, by turning away. When he looked back Theseus felt the weight of his examination, as Hephaistion studied him, and he felt uncomfortable under it.
"What is your name?" Hephaistion asked.
"Theseus. I come from Athens, my father models portraits, but I have no skill at it..."
Hephaistion held up his hand, to stop him talking, then walked around him in a small circle. This was worse than the hoplite commander at Athens, he sensed that he had failed in something. He talked too much, he knew that, and he vowed to curb his tongue.
"Sit down," Hephaistion ordered him. Looking about he saw a fallen tree and stepped over to it, sitting on it. Looking to Hephaistion for guidance, he saw him ripping at the hem of his chiton, before coming over to him. He inspected the wound, saying it was not so deep, before binding it with the cloth, then he asked Theseus to stand.
"Take off your breastplate."
Theseus looked down at his breastplate, puzzled by the request.
"You look nothing like an officer, Theseus. If we are found then they are likely to kill us both, but there is a chance they will take, as captive, any officers they find."
"Would they have saved Aepytus?" Theseus asked.
Hephaistion laughed. "I'll wager they'll kill him soon enough after if they do. But let's hope the man is not so foolish or traitorous as to let his tongue go loose." He shook his head. "I told him that Alexander has gone from Issus, only the sick and wounded have been left behind. Darius is waiting for us, he has a battlefield in mind. He has nothing to interest them, nothing he can tell them."
Theseus swallowed, a sudden fear coming to mind. He did not know whether to share it or not, but then thought it best that he speak. "Aepytus said that you were…close to Alexander, he said your name and said that you would know things that others would not. He said it in front of the Persians he released. Could it be possible that they understood?"
Blue eyes stared at him. Theseus swallowed again, suddenly seeing what might have attracted Alexander to the man. "It's possible," Hephaistion whispered, in reply. "Let's hope they don't speak Greek. Now, take off your breastplate."
"The men you were with, why did you send them on without you?" Theseus asked, wanting to know the answer to the question that had been troubling him.
"Alexander wants to know Darius' position. He heard he might be on the move and needs the information by tomorrow morning. That's why I sent them on. Now, take off your breastplate."
Theseus looked down at his armour. "It was my father's. I can't leave it here, I intended for my son to have it…when I have a son, that is."
"There's a chance you won't get back to see any sons if you don't leave it," Hephaistion replied.
Sighing, Theseus unbuckled the thick leather straps that held the breastplate and dropped it to the ground, he put his hand to his sword, prepared to die rather than lose that.
"You can keep your sword," said Hephaistion, and smiled.
Theseus watched as Hephaistion pulled a dagger from his belt and then used it to cut the carefully sewn patches from his chiton.
"No officer would have a patched chiton," he explained. "Better they think that it has been torn. He lifted the dark blue chalmys off his shoulders and placed it over Theseus' head, positioning it so that the gold brooch was placed over his right shoulder, he removed the metal wrist cuffs that he wore and handed them over for Theseus to put on, then stood back to take in the overall effect. "That should do," he murmured.
Theseus looked down, the chalmys made all the difference. He lifted his hand to touch the brooch, then to caress the softness of the wool. "The fabric is expensive, the brooch too," he said.
Hephaistion laughed. "They ought to be, they both belong to Alexander."
"Does he know you have them?" Theseus asked, for a moment forgetting who he was talking to."
"He knows," replied Hephaistion, going to his horse. "And I'll be in trouble if I don't get them back to him." He picked up the reins and leaped up on to the mare's back. "I have to go to Alexander, it might be dangerous, Theseus. Are you up to the challenge?"
Theseus looked north, considering how well he would do, travelling on his own, then turned back to Hephaistion, feeling the security of having a man so capable as his guide. Alexander's man at that. He grinned and reached up for the offered hand, climbing up on to the mare's back, to be seated behind Hephaistion.
Warily, they made their way through the woods, at one point hearing voices to their left. Hephaistion had halted his horse amongst some trees which grew densely, waiting silently for them to pass, the voices grew louder, then quieter and finally all was still.
They pushed on then, eventually coming to an open area, within the woods,where a narrow stream flowed and where there was grazing for the mare. It was beginning to get dark. They dismounted and Hephaistion saw to the horse as Theseus went to take a drink of the cool water. He shivered when he stood up, the air was growing cold as the sun fell. Looking about he began to gather some wood.
"We can't afford to light a fire," Hephaistion said.
"But it gets so cold," Theseus replied, realising he sounded petulant. "I understand," he said, quickly, dropping the wood, he had gathered, at his feet.
Hephaistion looked around, then walked over to the largest tree,seating himself amongst the large roots, resting his back against the wide trunk. "Come here," he said.
Theseus went over to him, to find his hand taken, and he was pulled down to sit beside Hephaistion, then he felt surprise as an arm wrapped around him. He wondered exactly how promiscuous Macedonians were, thinking he best not sleep in case he was seduced, that it might be best to talk of Dione, of his recent marriage.
"Body heat, is all we have to keep us warm," Hephaistion explained. "Though the chalmys will warm you, there is not enough fabric to share."
Wondering if Hephaistion would be satisfied with just sitting close, or would want to make more heat some other way, Theseus coughed, then reached in to the leather pouch and pulled out the portrait of Dione. "This is my wife, Dione," he said. "We were childhood sweethearts, who married recently. I love her very much, I always have. There was never anybody else for me."
"Then why are you away from her?" Hephaistion asked, taking the terracotta head and examining it. "She's beautiful. You say your father made this?"
"I haven't got the skill, though I think this is the best he ever made. I thought I would sign as a mercenary and come to Persia to get rich, then I could buy some land and farm on it…"
"And have sons." Hephaistion rested his head against the tree.
"She might already be with child. She thought as much when I left. I told her Diomedes, if it's a boy and Aethra, for a girl."
Hephaistion handed back the head. "Helen's handmaiden, Aethra. She's mentioned in the Illiad, Diomedes too, many times, son of Tydeus and a noted fighter."
"You know it so well?" Theseus asked. He'd only had the most limited education, and found himself envying those able to study more.
"I had Aristotle as a tutor," Hephaistion replied, then added, "and Alexander. I think he knows The Illiad better than anyone, and Xenophon, come to that."
"What is he like?" Theseus asked, feeling the warmth of the chalmys around him. It gave off a good scent when warm. "I heard Demosthenes talk of him and he made him sound like a tyrant."
"And yet you came to fight for him."
"It was Dione's idea. She had seen him when he came to Athens, I had lifted her up, she saw his face, I only saw the back of his head. She said he did not look like any tyrant, and as she had seen him, and not Darius, then it was best I fight for Macedon and the rest of Greece."
"And do you always do what Dione says?"
Theseus shook his head. "No, but a lot of what she says makes sense." He turned to look at Hephaistion, his eyes were closed, almost like he was sleeping, though he sensed he was fully alert to every sound around them. He was handsome, like a perfect sculpture of a god, but he also had intelligence and a sense of humour, a charm about him that made him appealing, so he might have been ugly and still have won approval.
The blue eyes suddenly came open, to gaze on him. "You went silent," Hephaistion whispered.
Theseus laughed. I talk too much, I know. I should be all laconic, like a Spartan, I should like to be, except I cannot hold my tongue."
"And you cannot keep your spear."
Feeling himself flush, Theseus looked away.
"It was too old and heavy to do much harm," Hephaistion said. "Who did that belong to? Your great grandfather?"
Theseus looked back, thinking that Hephaistion might have the powers of a seer. Then he saw that it was just a lucky guess, saw that Hephaistion was smiling at him, and he laughed. He had not felt so close to Phylacus, or to any of the others who had come from Athens, and he thought Alexander a lucky man to have someone like Hephaistion at his side.