Alexander took a breath of fresh morning air as he walked down the stone steps, to a small courtyard that would lead him out of the palace and towards the stables.
It was a route that would keep him hidden, he knew the guards would say nothing, unless asked, and in just a short time he would be riding Bucephalus through the gates of Pella to taste freedom, if only for a little while.
Life in the palace seemed to be smothering him and he faltered in his steps, as in the solitude of the courtyard he gave in to the emotions he had been holding deep inside, crouching down and holding his head in his hands, trying to make himself small enough so he could disappear.
He was seventeen, and should have had the choices any man his age would have been free to have. Where he went, who he spent time with, how much he drank, how he acted, what he did...who he slept with.
Later, his mother would send for him, demanding to know why he had not claimed the young virgin sent to him late last night. He almost had, just to save himself the aggravation of her accusations - that he must be a gynis, because a servant at Mieza had seen him kissed by another boy, a boy who had not been brought back to Pella.
Alexander wiped at the tears in his eyes with the palms of his hands, pressing them in to his eyes to stop any more from falling. It was weak to cry.
He could not even remember the boys name, it had only been one kiss, but because the servant saw the boy make the first move, his mother...and father, now thought that he took the woman's role in love.
A bitter laugh escaped from deep within. He had never had the choice of who to love. Potential lovers were paraded before him, almost every day now. Older, experienced courtesans meant to seduce him, young virgins, like the one last night and also boys his own age, all hand-picked by his mother, approved of by his father, and all of them willing to report back on his performance, or lack of it.
Alexander stood up straight, taking a deep breath. The only love he had ever known was the love he had for his mother. Yet his mother's love came at a price and each day it seemed to cost him more.
This time, last year, he was Regent, leading the army to battle. He had even named his first town after himself...well, not so much a town, but he felt that he was finally achieving something. Then his father had returned and praised him, embraced him, and taken the power back.
There would be another battle to fight, soon enough, this time, in all probability, it would be with Athens and her allies. Ambassadors seemed to arrive from there on a regular basis, but nothing ever got settled, because a battle suited his father's plans.
Not that he was invited to the talks, his mother kept him informed of what was said. It was her servant who had watched him at Mieza, her servants who told her of his whereabouts. That was why he was using these stairs, that was why he wanted to escape unseen.
He wiped his eyes, once more, looking about, feeling as he was being watched. He felt that if he closed his eyes he would hear the whispers, echoing along the hallways to his mother's rooms.
They could only report that he was alone - he was always alone, even amongst others.
He made his way to the stables, waving away a groom who came to assist him. He fetched his bridle and snagged an apple which had been left on a wooden chest, feeding it to the stallion, then offering him the bit before leading the horse out.
Bucephalus stooped down in a low bow, allowing Alexander to easily step astride the horse's broad back.
One of the older grooms laughed, making some comment about the trick, which Alexander did not quite hear, though he smiled in return as if he had. Then he nodded a farewell as he headed for the gates.
Bucephalus seemed just as eager to be free, giving a buck as they reached open ground and all too happy to gallop on command. Alexander steered him towards the mountains, that looked close enough to reach quickly, when in truth he knew they were a good day's ride away.
He reined Bucephalus in and looked back towards Pella, smiling because he had managed to escape, but not entirely comfortable with the fact he was alone. If he had asked, and if they were free, he knew his companions would have come with him. He liked company, he liked to talk and drink and laugh. but he craved something more. Power, perhaps, that's what his father said..
His father thought he spent too much time with his mother. His mother thought he spent too much time with his father. Parmenion thought he was arrogant, too confident. Antigonus had told him he was wilful, taking off with the army, not thinking that he might have got the army killed. Cleitus thought he was a mother's boy, and though he had not said it Alexander had seen the word 'gynis' forming on his lips, a time or two. Even Antipater had told him he was too impatient, that his dark moods and temper would do him no favours.
Alexander wondered how these people, who were so critical, would cope if they received the same brutal honesty. He could see where the truth was in their words, but he also knew there was loyalty, generosity and consideration within him too, but nobody had ever mentioned any of these qualities.
Tears came again and he closed his eyes to deny them, then laughed as he realised Antipater was right about his dark moods.
Bucephalus fidgeted beneath him, so Alexander urged him on, turning away from the mountains and heading for the river, knowing he could reach that soon enough.
Before he reached it he saw a troop of cavalry leaving the city, and even from a distance he could see his friends Craterus and Ptolemy were amongst them.
He wheeled Bucephalus around and headed over to them, picking a route that would intercept them. The captain of the troop acknowledged him and called a halt as he approached, looking back to make sure all the riders were in good order.
"Where are you heading?" Alexander asked.
"Just to Thermia," came the reply. "There's an Athenian delegation due to arrive, if they're not already on their way. We're to meet them and give them an escort in."
"Are you coming?" joked Craterus, seeing that Alexander was sorely tempted to join them.
"He'd love to," Ptolemy chipped in, and gave a look of commiseration.
The captain picked up his reins, under orders to be gone. "Thermia's nothing much, too loud for my taste, though the gambling's good. Joy to you, Alexander."
Wishing them joy, Alexander watched as they rode away, raising a hand in salute to Craterus who looked over his shoulder and called out to him, tempting him to follow.
Deciding not to delay the inevitable any longer Alexander headed back to Pella, leaving Bucephalus with a groom before making his way to the palace. Hoping that he might make it to his room without anyone seeing him; with luck there might not be anyone waiting for him there.
The fates were not being kind to him. He had hardly stepped inside the entrance hall when one of his mother's servants ran over, saying that Olympias wanted to see him.
He nodded in response, but carried on towards his rooms. She could wait, or find her own way to his rooms, but he knew when he walked away that sooner or later he would visit her that day, overwhelmed by his sense of obligation to her.
At least nobody was waiting for him in his rooms, except for a servant who poured him a cup of wine then hurried to prepare a bath, when ordered.
Alexander walked through to his bedroom, finishing the wine before lying on his bed, his right hand upon his chest, his fingers drumming out a rhythm, marking time, time passing as he lay inert.
Lost and alone. Bored with his self pity and his solitude, he got up from the bed, to take his bath, see his mother and then to go and find his friends.
The next morning found him retracing the same route, though his mood was lighter as Perdiccas and Seleucus were hopefully waiting for him at the stables and a days hunting lay ahead.
He ran over the open ground, in front of the palace, to the steps that would lead him to the stables, only to hesitate, as he saw his father already there, his generals with him.
He went to turn and go back but his father had already seen him, his one eye missing nothing.
"Alexander! I sent for you but I did not think the servant would deliver the message so soon."
"I had no message," Alexander replied, looking about to see Selecus and Perdiccas in full armour, already mounted. Seleucus shrugged at him.
"Word has come that the Athenian delegation is almost on our doorstep. So we're riding out to greet them and I thought that you should come along." Philip cast his eye over Alexander's dress, frowning a little at the worn cavalry boots. "You'll do," he said, "go get your horse."
Alexander continued down the steps, not surprised that his plans had gone awry. He wondered what the chances were that they might get free for the afternoon at least.
A groom brought out Bucephalus, who performed the same trick so that Alexander could mount.
"I could use a horse like that," Philip commented, eyeing the stallion.
"Philip, you know he'd throw you the first chance he got," Parmenion said, winking at Alexander.
"Alexander or the horse?" asked Philip, laughing at his joke as he looked upon his son, but he did not wait for a reply before leading the way out.
Falling in between Perdiccas and Seleucus, Alexander greeted his friends.
"And what good are Athenians?" mumbled Perdiccas. "They like to talk..."
"And talk," grinned Seleucus.
"No wonder Demosthenes is so popular with them, he's the biggest windbag of them all," Perdiccas continued.
"Your father never bothers to take the trip to Athens, it's a wonder they bother to take the trip to Pella."
Alexander turned and smiled to see Philotas, not having seen him with them at first.
"I don't suppose you need to be here, Philotas," he said
Philotas grinned. "Not really, but my horse needed the exercise and it makes my father happy."
"Still trying to win his approval, it must be difficult having brothers to compete with," said Seleucus, ducking to avoid a friendly cuff off Philotas.
"We don't normally parade out to meet the Athenians," Philotas commented.
"Just once before," noted Perdiccas. "Philip doesn't like to stand waiting, not when he can be on the move, and you can bet he'll start dealing with any business on the ride back."
"Like father, like son," said Philotas and grinned.
"He'll forget I'm here," Alexander replied, a comment which went unanswered as they all knew that it might be true.
They rode out of the city, in the direction of Thermia, retracing the route Ptolemy and Craterus would have taken the day before, but just when the city was out of sight the Athenian delegation were spotted in the distance.
"Hardly worth tacking up the horses for," Perdiccas said, dryly.
"How many have come this time...twenty?" observed Seleucus.
Perdiccas counted for himself. "About that, if you don't count the guards. Why do they bring guards? It's not as if they could be defended by them."
"It looks the part," Alexander replied.
"So do the boys they've brought with them this time," Philotas added, nodding towards the delegates.
"They've probably all had to accompany their mentors,it's all very Athenian," joked Seleucus. "They all have to go and lie with old men, these poor Athenian boys..."
"Did Aristotle teach you nothing?" asked Alexander. "And you're getting your Athenians confused with your Spartans."
"That's what comes of sleeping through classes," chided Perdiccas. "I said it would come back at you, and still you didn't listen, Seleucus."
"I listened, I just didn't bother to remember," laughed Seleucus.
"And the boys you speak of, they are the same age as us," Alexander noted as they rode closer.
The delegates were older, ranging from thirty years up to, perhaps fifty, it was hard to tell by their bearded faces. The clean-shaven Athenian boys were the same age, all handsome as though they had been specifically chosen for the journey by their beauty. Golden hair, dark hair, chestnut hair, straight, curled and long, you could take your pick.
Alexander looked to his father, not surprised to see him cast a greedy eye over the youth of Athens.
He prayed to Zeus that these young men did have the older delegates as their mentors, if only to save them from the crude advances of his father, who had suddenly remembered his manners, pushing his horse forward and announcing himself.
It was the oldest member of the Athenian party, balding, with a grey beard and a stomach to show a comfortable lifestyle, who announced himself first.
"I am Mydon and I have the honour of heading the talks. He pointed to a man on his right, whose hair was greying, his dark beard showing grey too though he was lean, with intelligent brown eyes. "This is Laodocus," he said, then called out the names of the others until their names and faces all seemed to blend in to one.
It did not really matter, the talks would come to nothing in the end, they never did.
Philip introduced his generals, which only served to show the contrast between the Athenians who came in the name of peace and the Macedonians who seemed prepared to listen but brought soldiers to the talks.
Alexander studied the men before him, half older, half younger, then became aware of a boy, his own age, studying him. He looked in to a pair of blue eyes, like no other, then heard his name called and realised he was being announced.
He bowed his head in acknowledgement, smiling as all eyes gazed upon him.
"You have made a name for yourself in Athens, Alexander," Mydon commented.
"In the whole of Greece, I should think," Philip said, riding over to his son and reaching out to put a hand on his right shoulder. "He was sixteen and he led an army in to battle and gained a victory where others might have not. I'm proud of him."
Alexander looked to his father, it was not often he was praised and he valued each kind word as if it were a treasure. Feeling his father's hand leave his shoulder, watching as he turned away, wanting to ask why he could not be constant, why he could not see that all he ever wanted was his love, Alexander followed, falling in to line.
Craterus appeared along his side. "You could have come, who would have missed you?"
"It's not the being missed, it's the comments on your return. You should be a prince, Craterus, then you'd see."
Looking back over his shoulder, Craterus chose to ignore the comment. "Epeigeus was asking what the hunting was like, I said that we would go as soon as the talks began in earnest."
"And who is Epeigeus?" Alexander asked.
"The blonde, riding the grey," replied Craterus.
Alexander looked to find the youth that Craterus referred to, seeing a well-formed boy, laughing with the boy with the blue eyes. This Epeigeus seemed to have an arrogance about him, his dress and manner, even the horse he rode told of riches, of the confidence he would never go hungry, feel cold or be alone.
"Well?" Craterus asked.
"We can go hunting, it won't matter if they come or not."
"Are we going hunting?" Seleucus reined back his horse, looking hopefully at Alexander.
"Duty first, Seleucus," replied Craterus, who then looked to Alexander. "But it would do you good. You're far too sad these days. I've seen you carefree at Mieza and joyful in the midst of battle, but here you're like a wild bird kept in a cage."
Alexander looked down, knowing his other companions, having heard Craterus' words could only agree with them. He could say nothing, he did not know what he was feeling, or how to climb out of his despair. He lifted his head and forced a smile, then listened as Ptolemy rode up and told them all that was happening at Thermia and of Craterus coaxing a whore to his bed for free.
When Ptolemy was done with his tale they were practically at the stables and they rode on in silence, handing their horses over to the grooms who came running out.
Alexander saw his father heading to the palace, flanked each side by Mydon and Laodocus, followed by the other delegates, talking to the generals. He watched and waited to see if he would be summoned, but he was not. The Athenian party disappeared from view, he watched and waited but he had not been missed.
Perdiccas threw his arm around his shoulders. "What do we do now, Alexander?"
"Eat at the barracks," Ptolemy said, in such a way nobody would argue with them. He was older and often used this to influence decisions.
Everyone fell in to step behind Ptolemy, heading through the city, along the narrow streets, past fine houses to merchants stores then to the barracks themselves, where Ptolemy went to coax the cooks to find them something, holding his stomach and acting as though he had not eaten for a week.
One cook, after seeing Alexander amongst the group, filled a basket with bread, meat and fruit that had been left from the breakfast, handing it to Ptolemy who then led the way to his rooms, calling for a servant to fetch wine.
They spent the rest of the morning and up until the middle of the afternoon in Ptolemy's room. Once the food was eaten some gambling began, while stories and jokes were told and more wine flowed.
With the sense of duty instilled in him, Alexander was the first to leave, knowing he would be needed at the banquet that night, even if there had been no official invitation. He reminded his friends not to be late, then retraced his steps back to the palace.
A bath was ready for him when he got back to his rooms, he stripped off his clothes as he walked, and as he stepped in to the water he called for a servant to help him bathe, then moved close so that the man could oil his back and shoulders. He washed his face and hair, then shaved, timing it so the servant was done at the same time. He stepped out of the water taking the towel that was handed to him and asking another servant to fetch an embroidered chiton and his dark blue chlamys for him to wear with the gold Macedonian Star brooch to hold it.
Once dressed he pulled on his cavalry boots, smiling at the servant who had brought him sandals to wear. He could dress like an Athenian any time he chose, but tonight he chose to dress like a Macedonian.
It was only late afternoon as he made his way to his mother's rooms, knowing she would be expecting him.
Olympias was sitting talking to some girls from the court when he arrived and she feigned surprise to see him as she stood and came to him to claim a kiss. She smiled and ran her hand along his face before turning back to her companions.
Alexander looked to the girls, young and impressionable, who would soon learn the cost of friendship with the Queen. He wondered which one was being chosen for his bed, which one could tell his mother court secrets and which had lain with his father and thought the Queen would never know.
They giggled, as young girls do, then stood and hurried from the room.
"Do you like the girl with raven hair?" Olympias asked.
"None of them," Alexander replied.
Olympias frowned. "Just one...just choose one to show some interest in.
Alexander stepped away from her, looking up at the painting of Achilles pulling Hector's body behind his chariot, then to the shrine to Dionysus, finally to the snakes upon the floor, making the mosaic appear as if it were alive. He looked back to his mother, seeing her fine features but knowing that inside she schemed, that dark thoughts lay behind the veil of beauty.
"Then you would have me marry," he sighed, turning away and heading for the balcony before he could hear her reply.
He leaned upon the ballustrade to see the Athenian boys in the courtyard below, laughing with each other, fresh from their baths and wearing their finest, obviously ready for the banquet.
"Is it a boy that you want?" his mother asked.
Alexander shook his head. "I want to make my own choices," he said, watching two of the Athenians embrace, wondering if they were lovers. There was laughter and he wondered what the joke was between them. "You sent the last boy away. "Remember?"
"He forgot his place," Olympias replied. "He was not worthy of you, Alexander."
"Who ever will be?" Alexander snapped, pushing away from the balcony and striding back in to the room, carefully avoiding the snakes as he went to pour himself a cup of wine. "In my own time...let me find someone in my own time."
"You have had time, all your other companions are able to bed girls, Ptolemy has already fathered a child. Everyone wonders what is wrong with you, Alexander."
"Nothing."
"You show no interest," Olympias continued. "Even the most beautiful courtesans, experienced in what they do, they say how reluctant you are and if they persuade you there is no joy in it for you."
"Must we have this conversation every time," replied Alexander, putting down his cup. "Can we not talk of the things that you have done today, the merchants who have arrived with fine things for you, my sister, Cleopatra, which servant has annoyed you or the plans you have for any coming festival?"
Olympias stood and studied him, her agitation showing by her fingers rubbing together, almost like a snake about to strike.
Alexander hated moments like this, he fought the urge to give in to her, to almost demand she send a courtesan tonight so he could bed her and show his mother that he was compliant to her wishes. He needed his mother's love, because he felt that he had nothing else. She was his constant, the only one who had given him love unconditionally, or so it seemed. He could not bear to see her pain, her anger at him.
"I'm sorry," he breathed.
His mother made no move towards him, instead she wrapped her arms around herself, as if in comfort. She turned away from him.
Alexander hurried to her, embracing her, almost forcing her to return the embrace, feeling relief as he felt her hands come round him.
"I only do what is best for you," she said.
"I know," Alexander murmured, taking comfort from her familiar scent.
"I worry for you. What else do I have?"
Holding his mother closer Alexander felt lost. What did it matter in the end? If it would make her happy then he would bed whoever she sent.
"The dark-haired girl was pretty enough," he said.
Olympias pulled back to gaze on him, then smiled sweetly. "Now, you humour me. You did not look twice at her."
Laughter echoed up from the courtyard, Alexander turned to look towards the balcony.
"You have the banquet to attend," she said. "One day you might stay longer with me."
"I see you all the time," he replied.
His mother reached to twist a lock of his hair around her finger. "My child has become a man, I should not expect to see you so much. I make demands on you, I know, but it is only a mother's love...a mother's concern for her son."
Alexander embraced her, taking strength from her comforting touch. He needed nothing else than this, to know she loved him.
"Go," Olympias whispered. "I shall see you tomorrow."
Reluctant to move, Alexander forced himself to let go, smiling at his mother, kissing her lips, before turning to leave.
He left his mother's rooms, hesitating for a moment, his hand still on the door, before he made his way towards the banqueting hall that would be used that night, pleased to see Ptolemy and Perdiccas waiting for him at the doorway.
They made their way across the room, to dining couches close to his father's own, although his father had yet to arrive. Musicians were playing and servants were busy bringing food to the tables and offering wine to whoever needed some.
Amongst the merchants and generals Alexander looked to see Epeigeus talking with a dark-haired youth, while walking to the couches opposite and taking up a place there. Laodocus followed, his hand resting on the shoulder of the blue-eyed boy, whose long, chestnut hair, seemed to shine, framing a perfect face. They were deep in conversation, their heads close together, almost conspiratorially. Others followed, another dark-haired youth, but stockier, pulled at the blue-eyed boy's chiton and broke the conversation with Laodocus, who then moved to the King's tables just as Philip entered the room.
Mydon was with Philip, some of the other ambassadors too, looking pleased with themselves, as they always did.
Alexander watched as his father waited for everyone to find their place, then he sat on a couch and reached for a cup of wine.
Seleucus arrived, and managed to go unnoticed as he took a seat next to Ptolemy. He was always late, it was a skill he had perfected.
"The food's always better when delegates are here," Ptolemy said, taking a good portion of meat and pouring some wine. "Better than the barracks any day."
"How are the talks going?" Perdiccas asked.
Alexander reached for some bread and meat. "Your guess would be as good as mine, but when do talks ever achieve anything when my father has his heart set on something." He sat up, not failing to notice the look between Perdiccas and Ptolemy. They were his friends but they did not know him.
Philotas and Craterus came over, pushing themselves in to share the couch. Alexander did not mind, he liked them both well enough, Craterus better than Philotas, if the truth were told. The food was eaten, more wine was brought and dancing girls emerged to entertain.
Alexander drank his wine, his eyes looking over to the opposite side of the room, thinking the Athenian boys were almost a mirror image of himself and his companions. They were laughing and talking, sharing couches and relaxed.
Epeigeus lay back, as if the wine had made him drunk. The blue-eyed boy laughed to see him and leaned forward to say something so he might be heard, above the music, above the talk. As he leaned forward Alexander noticed how his chiton moved up to reveal a shapely thigh and he wondered what it might feel like to run your fingers along the exposed flesh.
Alexander looked in to his cup, feeling himself flush at the sudden thought, feeling a stirring in his groin. He took another drink of wine and wondered what the boy's name was, then turned to talk to Craterus, fighting the desire to turn and look again.
When Craterus began to argue a point with Ptolemy, Alexander took his chance and looked back. Enough time had passed that he would appear to have no interest. He turned to see Laodocus come to the boy, and he wondered if the man was his mentor, but these thoughts were displaced as he saw the boy follow Laodocus to his father.
Alexander looked away. His father must have noticed him too and sent Laodocus to fetch him.
He took another drink of wine, emptying his cup, then turned to listen to a conversation Perdiccas was having with Craterus, that General Attalus had gone to the country to fetch his niece back.
"He hopes she'll meet with the King's favour," Craterus said, then looked to Alexander and pulled a face as though he should not have heard his words.
Alexander put his arm around his shoulder and pulled Craterus close. "My mother has already told me, she hopes I can meet the girl first and win her over."
"And why not?" Perdiccas blurted out. "You're young and no offence, Alexander, but your father is war-ravaged. What would a young girl see in him?"
"It's what Philip will see in her," Craterus informed his friend. He reached up to clasp Alexander's hand. "And you, Alexander? Are you above us all, in that you would deny yourself physical pleasure?"
Alexander felt his face flushing. He was no virgin, his mother's hired courtesans had seen to that, but he did not lust after a repeat of the experience like his companions did. He smiled at Craterus, then stood and wished his friends health before making his way from the room.
As he left Ptolemy caught up with him.
"We'll be at the gymnasium tomorrow morning. Meet us there, Alexander, the exercise will do you good."
Alexander considered the request for a moment, then agreed to be there before he made his way to his rooms, pleased to find he was alone when he got there.
