Watching as his father paced the room in annoyance, Alexander wondered why the Athenians were late when apparently they had not been before.
Parmenion sat back and sighed, as if he would rather be doing something else than waiting, and Antipater held a whispered conversation with Attalus, while Cleitus folded his arms and yawned.
Hurried footsteps were heard before Mydon came in to the room alone. Alexander, thinking that the man's haste was down to his tardiness, found some amusement in the man's unkempt and flustered appearance, until he saw the blood on the man's hands and chiton.
As he walked in, conversation halted, and all eyes turned to watch him approach Philip, some of the guards stepped forward, from the doorway, but Philip waved them away when it was clear that Mydon was unarmed.
Mydon looked about, his lips forming words that would not come out of his mouth. He wiped his brow, leaving a pink trail of blood and shook his head.
"Speak, man!" Philip commanded, getting to his feet and walking over to the Athenian.
Swallowing, then taking a deep breath, Mydon looked at the king before him. "One of our party has been attacked, I think killed, the wounds look bad enough."
Philip turned to Cleitus. "Fetch the guard."
As Cleitus was about to move, Mydon put his hand on Philip's right arm. "No," he said. He took another breath. "No Macedonian is responsible, and we have the one who wielded the blade. We will deal with it ourselves, but we will not be attending the talks today, and I am ashamed as to the reason why."
"Who was attacked?" Alexander asked, getting up and coming to stand beside his father.
Mydon shook his head, as if wishing to deny the event had happened. "Hephaistion," he murmured. "Daedalus...his brother, stabbed him," Mydon looked at his hands, at the blood upon them. "There is so much blood."
Alexander felt as if he was being pulled back from the room, as if he was no longer a part of what was going on there. He could hear Mydon continue talking but not make out the words, his head felt light, his throat dry. He felt a hand upon his back and came back to see Antipater standing by him, a look of concern upon his face.
"We will deal with it all. I will go back now and see what is happening. Forgive us," Mydon said. The man gave a short bow, then turned and hurried from the room.
Parmenion laughed bitterly. "And they think we are the barbarians," he said, picking up his cup and taking a drink of the goats milk he favoured every morning. He shook his head. "Amyntor's boy."
"The brother should be punished for the crime," Cleitus added, taking his seat and reaching for some wine. "Amyntor should not have gone."
"Should you not go?" Alexander asked, turning to his father.
"What am I? A surgeon?" Philip snapped, then sighed. "These Athenians should keep their troubles on their own back door. Things will get twisted here, I shall be blamed for it somehow." He looked to Alexander and put his hand on his shoulder. "They'll have a surgeon brought to the boy. They'll do what they can."
"Send your own surgeon. Send Philip," Alexander urged, thinking rapidly of what more to say to convince his father. "Then they can not say you did not do all you could."
"The boy has a point," Parmenion said.
"What's one more Athenian gone," replied Philip, not thinking, turning to take a step towards his seat.
"He's Macedonian. Hephaistion is no citizen of Athens, he is a metic, a Macedonian." Alexander stated. "Could you not honour Amyntor's memory by ensuring his son does not die by an Athenian hand?"
Philip stood still, almost like a statue, and Alexander knew his words were going to strike home. He did not stay to see if they made it safely to their target, he had to go and see for himself, and without saying anything more he followed Mydon's path out of the room.
He hurried along the hallways, breaking in to a run as the need to be by Hephaistion's side seemed to overwhelm him.
"Alexander!"
Looking over his shoulder, Alexander saw Cleitus hurrying after him, but he did not slow his pace. He turned right, hurrying down some steps and along another hallway, overtaking Mydon, before turning left, his steps faltering only then, as he saw a crowd gathered outside what must be Hephaistion's room.
"You won't be able to do anything," Cleitus said, coming to his side. "Let them deal with it. It is their matter, not ours," he counselled.
Alexander kept his eyes on the crowd, stepping forward slowly, praying to Zeus that he would not see Hephaistion dead. There was a bloody hand print on the wall, by the door, Daedalus' hand.
The crowd parted for him and he stepped inside the room, to see Hephaistion lying on a bed, the sheets red with blood, a crowd of senior Athenians gathered around it, talking amongst themselves while the surgeon shook his head. In a corner of the room Hephaistion's companions were gathered, only Daedalus and Epeigeus were absent.
Alexander's eyes fixed upon Hephaistion. The surgeon had unclipped his chiton, exposing his chest, which had then been roughly bandaged, but blood from two wounds seeped through the linen cloth, both on the left side, one on his side and one just below his collar bone. Nothing more was being done, as though there was no point when death was coming soon to claim his victim. Blood was in his hair, had run down his face, which looked pale as death.
"You must do more...to save him," Alexander said, thinking his words were for the surgeon, but speaking so everyone might here.
Laodocus stepped forward, tears were in his eyes. "The surgeon says he has done all he can."
"Then he has killed him," Alexander snapped, he brushed by the man and hurried to Hephaistion's side, his hand shaking as he reached to touch the side of Hephaistion's face. He was too cold. Alexander reached down and pulled the sheet and a woollen blanket up to Hephaistion's waist. He looked around then fetched a linen towel, folding it in to a pad and pressing it against Hephaistion's side, placing it so that it covered the bloody marks. Hephaistion groaned softly at the pressure but was too weak to move away. Alexander could not tell if he was conscious of what was happening or not.
"Cleitus. Come here and keep the pressure on the wounds," Alexander ordered, waiting until the general was right beside him before he moved from his position and fetched some wine, strong and red. He was sure Aristotle had said good things about strong wine fortifying the body.
He held the cup to Hephaistion's lips, gently lifting his head so that he might drink some.
"Hephaistion," he said, softly. "Hephaistion, drink some of this."
There was no response, so Alexander tilted the cup, allowing a little to flow in to Hephaistion's mouth. Hephaistion groaned, almost in protest, but swallowed, and again when Alexander repeated the action.
"Don't die," Alexander whispered, looking to Cleitus who, he knew, had heard the words.
"Who is he to you?" Cleitus whispered back, a worried frown creasing his face. "He's been badly hurt, Alexander. I don't think he can be saved," he said, as if meaning to crush any hopes that Alexander might have.
Alexander shook his head and continued making Hephaistion drink the wine. He was rewarded by two slits of blue, seeming to gaze on him, and felt the wine was restoring life in some measure.
But the blue eyes flickered shut and Hephaistion's lips closed and would not open.
Alexander looked over his shoulder, at Hephaistion's companions. "Nireus. Tell me."
Nireus shrugged his shoulders as he took a couple of paces forward. "I heard a cry and I came to investigate, Daedalus was standing with a dagger in his hand, crying out that he had killed his brother. I called the others and ran to fetch the surgeon."
Alexander looked to the surgeon, an Athenian he had seen amongst the others but paid no mind to.
"How bad?" he asked.
"There has been too much blood lost," the surgeon replied.
"So what has ruined my breakfast?"
The comment came from Philip, the king's own surgeon. Alexander felt hope return just to see the man enter the room, with three servants behind him, carrying linen, herbal remedies and bags of surgical instruments.
Alexander stood up from the bed, stepping back so that Philip could examine his patient.
The surgeon noticed the wine. "One of Aristotle's notions," he said, and laughed, then his face grew serious as he looked upon Hephaistion, and he leaned forward , signalling for Cleitus to move back as he pulled the pad aside and then turned to a servant for a knife so he could cut the bandages free.
Coming forward, as if to protest, the Athenian surgeon shut his mouth and stayed where he was as Philip looked on him.
"Let's give the boy a chance," Philip said, examining the wounds. "These need closing, to stop the blood loss," he noted, "but there is no bubbling in the blood, the knife has not caught the lung, more like it grazed along his rib. What is his name?"
"Hephaistion," Laodocus said, quickly. He stepped forward and smiled at Alexander, hope in his eyes now.
"He should be sitting up. Somebody fetch pillows, and some of you come here and lift him." He sat on the bed and gently patted his patient's face. "Hephaistion? Are you with us still, boy?"
The blue eyes struggled open and then fixed on the surgeon.
"He spoke when we found him," Laodocus said. "Why can he not speak now."
"He's growing weaker, that's why," Philip replied softly, as if he were speaking to a child. He turned his attention back to Hephaistion. "You're young and strong, you can recover. You know how to fight, don't you?"
Alexander went to lift Hephaistion but then he noticed Cleitus.
"Leave him to Philip. Your father will be asking for you."
"I'd rather stay here," replied Alexander, watching as others lifted Hephaistion, Nireus and the rest having found themselves a job to do.
"He's with his friends. Let them help him," Cleitus soothed, reaching for Alexander and encouraging him to get up and move away from the bed. "Here," he led Alexander to a bowl, and poured water in to it from a jug, "you have blood on your hands".
Alexander put his hands in the water, rubbing them together to get rid of the blood. He looked over his shoulder to see Hephaistion propped against some pillows, people working to save him. For the first time he noticed the blood on the floor, a handprint there. Hephaistion's. He had tried to help himself up.
Cleitus wet a cloth in the water and wiped at his hands. "Someone he considered his brother did this to him." He shook his head. "A bad betrayal of trust." Cleitus looked to Alexander as he spoke the last. "This is an Athenian matter, Philip has sent his own surgeon to tend the boy, now we're best to leave them to it. Are you done?" Cleitus was anxious to go, to have nothing to do with the crime committed.
Alexander followed the general, heading slowly back to the meeting room to find his father talking with the others. It almost seemed surreal that they had come from a scene of pain and despair, to one so ordinary, everyone acting as though nothing had happened.
Greeted by his father, he was asked as to Hephaistion's condition, then the event was discussed before it turned to other matters. Alexander took his seat and half listened to the conversation, and half watched the hallway that led to where Hephaistion lay, trying to imagine what was happening there.
He told himself he hardly knew Hephaistion, that he should not feel so much, but then he thought of the brief times they had together and knew that, at those times, he felt as though he had known him forever. Closing his eyes he saw Hephaistion smiling at him, the blue eyes gazing in to his soul, and he realised that he had hesitated and lost what time they might have had together.
His thoughts were disturbed as his father brought a meeting to order, wanting to discuss the training of the phalanx and news from Corinth and Thebes. The morning passed that way, though Alexander, having been invited to attend, now found no enjoyment in it and was glad when his father was done.
As they stood to leave, Laodocus entered the room, though in contrast to Mydon the man looked calm enough, although his eyes were red. He had changed his clothes and washed, as if to make the effort before coming to the king. Two more of the ambassadors followed him in
Laodocus bowed his head to Philip.
"Thank you for sending your surgeon," he said. "With his help, Hephaistion still lives, when our surgeon said that nothing could be done." Laodocus looked to his two contemporaries. "We need to ask another favour."
Philip grunted, then signalled for them to sit, and for a servant to pour them wine.
"You are my guests here, I will do what I can."
Relief washed over Laodocus' face, and he picked up his wine cup and took a large drink of it before speaking. "I need to hand Hephaistion over to you, for your care and protection."
Philip raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Parmenion, who shrugged in return.
"What was it? A spat between two boys? I hardly think that deserves..."
"Daedalus' mother gave him the task of murdering Hephaistion, when he left to come here. Even knowing how close the boys were, she said that as a mother to a son he should expect the favour or Daedalus need not bother coming home."
"A favour?" Philip laughed and looked to his son. "And how many favours does your mother ask you, Alexander?"
Alexander chose not to answer, but stepped close to hear Laodocus more clearly.
"So, Hephaistion's stepmother wanted him dead," Parmenion said.
"So she could take Amyntor's wealth. With Hephaistion dead the money and the business would come to her son," explained Laodocus.
"And yet if I offer him my protection he will lose the wealth anyway," said Philip.
"Unless he returns to Athens," Alexander added.
"If he survives," Philip muttered, taking a drink of wine.
"If he returns to Athens then he will, more than likely, be killed." Laodocus sighed and looked to the floor, before gazing upon Philip. "I know his stepmother was unfaithful to Amyntor, and the man, who I won't name here, is powerful enough to finish the job that Daedalus could not complete. It's all down to politics, too complicated to explain, but I think Hephaistion's stepmother hoped that her stepson's death might go uncommented on if it happened here, by a metic to a metic..."
"Not by a citizen to a metic," Alexander said, following Laodocus' meaning, appalled at Hephaistion's stepmother's greed for gold, to take her stepson's life to impress her high-ranking lover.
"Well, as I have been reminded, Hephaistion is more Macedonian than Athenian." Philip laughed. "And Amyntor's boy as well." He pulled at his beard as he thought things over. "I'll send some men to help move the boy to another room. Guards will be set. He will be protected...and cared for."
Laodocus bowed low, his face breaking in to a smile. "Thank you, Sire," he breathed. "It is what was needed, one of the boys was heard to say he would gladly finish the job."
Philip waved his hand, as if it was all nothing. "Amyntor should never have left in the first place. Grief took him away from here, he almost lost his mind when his young wife died, the boy was just two years old when he left, the same age as Alexander...they used to play together. I heard he had gone to Athens and that he had remarried, I often thought of him, he cut away all ties, I wondered what life he had made for himself." Philip took another drink of wine. "I loved him, Laodocus. More than a brother. And you might say it is the wine that puts these words in my mouth, but then you would be a liar."
Laodocus looked around, as if embarrassed by the king's frankness. "I should go back," he said, bowing once more before leaving.
"So, you shall have a new companion, Alexander. See if you can make him stay," Philip said.
"Hades looks as though it has already claimed him, Philip," said Cleitus, frowning.
"You could have said the same about me, before now," laughed Philip.
Alexander watched to see Laodocus leave, wanting so badly to go with the man and oversee Hephaistion's care.
Cleitus left the room, the meeting was at an end.
Alexander stood to go, but his father called him over to where he was talking with Parmenion, telling him that as there would more than likely not be a banquet again that night, they were both to go to Parmenion's house and dine.
Although he had no appetite, at that moment, Alexander could not refuse his father's wishes and so he smiled and thanked Parmenion, then at last was able to leave.
Coming out of the room he found Ptolemy and Perdiccas waiting for him, and they hurried over wanting to hear the news about Hephaistion, though they were more inclined to be amused about the fact the Athenians had their own problems to be dealing with.
With the two of them following, Alexander headed back to the guest rooms, only to meet with Cleitus, who was carrying Hephaistion at the head of a procession, followed by his father's surgeon, guards and servants.
Hephaistion was naked, except for the bandages wrapped around his torso, and down over his left shoulder, a fresh sheet was wrapped around him. His face was pale, but the blood had been cleaned from it, and his eyes were closed, his head resting against Cleitus' shoulder.
"He's been given opium," Cleitus explained, not stopping for a moment.
He headed along the hallways to a room, which Alexander was glad to see was close to his own. It was light and airy, with a large bed, already being prepared by servants, who were arranging pillows so that Hephaistion could again be propped up.
Philip took over then, having the sheet, wrapped around Hephaistion, removed, then sheets and blankets pulled up to his waist, ordering Cleitus not to turn him on his side, and to be gentle.
"So is this the work of Epeigeus?" Ptolemy asked, leaning over to Alexander to ask his question.
Alexander shook his head, concerned for the paleness of Hephaistion's skin, telling himself it was the opium that made him sleep like death was so near.
"Daedalus," he replied, watching Philip check the bandages.
"The brother?" Perdicass said in amazement.
"To take his wealth," Alexander said absently, walking over to the bed. "How is he?" he asked the surgeon.
Philip shook his head. "I've done what I can. It was a clumsy attempt to kill a man, anyone with a little more skill would have easily had the chance to put him past my saving, but even now I am not sure. I have stitched the wounds, wrapped herbs in place to ease the swelling and promote healing, but he has to help himself, to want to live, and it was a bad thing that was done to him, a wound to the heart, even if the blade went nowhere near it."
Alexander reached over to gently examine the cut on Hephaistion's head, the blood was drying.
"Hit with the hilt of the dagger," Philip said, "more than likely as he went down."
"But you have stopped the bleeding, surely time will heal him now."
Philip shook his head. "Not if a fever comes, a fever could still take him."
"Well, he's amongst his own kind, at least he'd die that way," noted Cleitus, having heard the conversation.
Alexander felt angry with Cleitus for even daring to talk of death, but he bit his tongue and said nothing because in a way it did feel right that Hephaistion was theirs to care for, as if he had come home.
It would have been a poor time to argue with Cleitus as just then Alexander's father came in to the room, going to his surgeon and asking as to the chances of recovery, to be told the same. Once he heard the news he sat upon the bed and reached up to brush a strand of hair away from Hephaistion's face, lost in thought.
"I saw Amyntor like this," he said. "When he was badly wounded. He could never fight again, and the recovery took a long time, too long, it made him think of Athens and once he had that in mind he would not let go of it." He sighed. "And here is his son. He has Amyntor's eyes, and his hair is the same, although his nose and lips are his mother's."
The king sat silent, lost in thought. His hand came down to clasp Hephaistion's, squeezing it. "It would be a good thing to have something of Amyntor amongst us," he murmured, his voice seemingly choked with emotion. "I hope that he does not die, I shall be praying for him."
With that, Philip struggled to his feet and looked over at his son. "Alexander, stay here if you will, but don't forget where we dine tonight."
Alexander nodded, then watched his father leave with Cleitus before turning back to look on Hephaistion.
Seleucus arrived to share the amusement about the Athenians embarrassment, then halted his hilarity when he saw Hephaistion, saying that out of them all he had liked him the best.
Ptolemy noted that they all did, and Alexander caught his look and knew what his intentions were with the words he spoke.
Hephaistion lay still, all through the surgeon's care and administrations, showing no sign that Morpheus would release him from the sleep that he was held in. It was the opium, Philip assured him, nothing more.
Before he knew it, it was time to leave. Alexander had to go and bathe, to prepare himself for the night ahead.
The night dragged on.
Alexander watched his father and Parmenion as the reminisced about old times, old friends and battles, but at least he had Philotas and Craterus alongside him, equally wishing for the dinner to be done.
Philotas had friends to go gambling with, even at that late hour, and Craterus had a girl whose rooms he hoped to get in to unseen.
Alexander got a nudge and a grin from Craterus as the older men eventually got to their feet and bid each other health.
His father had drunk too much, but he was in high spirits and filled the homeward journey with his hopes for the future, telling Alexander how proud he was of him, how well they would do by each other.
Grooms ran over to take the horses, the guards that had come with them were dismissed and Alexander escorted his father to his room, before also wishing him health and finding himself alone and free to do whatever he chose.
He turned and headed to a room where there was one person he truly wished health to.
Opening the door, he was surprised to find Hephaistion awake, and his blue eyes looking on him as he came over to the bed.
"You slept so long," Alexander said, aware of Philip, sitting reading in a corner, of a servant folding linen cloth. He sat upon the bed, wanting to touch but not feeling that he had the right.
"They said you had been here," replied Hephaistion, softly.
"My father too, Cleitus, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, amongst others," said Alexander, wondering why he was making it seem as if he was not the only one who cared so much..
Hephaistion smiled, but tears came to his eyes. "It seems that Daedalus did buy the dagger after all. I owe you an apology."
Alexander nodded. "I never shouted at him."
"I know," Hephaistion replied. "I knew it from the moment I spoke to you of it. By your face." He tried to move, to sit up a little more and groaned with the effort.
"Keep still," Alexander said, hastily.
Hephaistion looked up to the ceiling, then back to Alexander. "I am tired, but my body aches."
"I should have done more to stop him. I never knew he meant to hurt you." Alexander whispered, unable to find his voice seeing the pain in Hephaistion's eyes. He looked back to Philip, seeing the surgeon looking over at them.
"Do not talk, he needs to rest," Philip advised.
Alexander nodded, then turned back to Hephaistion and tried not to show that he feared he might die.
"I wanted to go with you," Hephaistion said. "To your rooms, to spend some time. We never got the chance to talk."
"Then get well, give us that chance," Alexander urged him.
Hephaistion smiled, then reached for Alexander's hand, taking it, before closing his eyes and drifting off in to sleep once more.
Tears filled Alexander's eyes as, the dam seemed to burst, the feelings overwhelmed him. It was love. He loved Hephaistion. He choked back something between a grief stricken sob and a laugh of happiness, in that moment when awareness dawned on him, laughing at the irony that having found love, at last, it could be so quickly taken from him.
Not wanting to show weakness, he stood, freeing his hand from Hephaistion's and leaving the room with one final look.
He fetched a cloak from his rooms, then took a jug of the finest wine, going out in to the streets of Pella, walking quickly until he came to the Temple of Apollo, climbing its darkened steps to hear his footsteps echo in the building.
It was deserted, no priests to come bowing to him, but a solitary lamp was lit at the foot of Apollo's statue. Alexander walked over to it, opening the wine and pouring a libation on the floor.
"I don't know what to do, but to ask you to help Hephaistion, to heal him, Apollo. You have listened to my prayers in the past, I pray that you hear me now."
He stood a while in silence, then stepped back and left the temple.
A dog barked at him as he walked on, to a statue of Aesclepius, with offerings around it. Again he poured the wine and said a prayer, then he turned and went to the Temple of Aphrodite, thinking that, as she must have created Hephaistion, she would be the goddess who would listen to his plea.
He poured the most generous libation here, looking to the steps where he had seen Hephasition sitting, wishing that he had known the danger he was in, knowing he would not have let him go to his fate, had he but known.
"He is your son, save him for me," Alexander said, reaching out to touch the goddess' gown, feeling the stone beneath his fingers but hoping that Aphrodite would know how much it would mean if his prayers were answered. That if she planned to take Hephaistion, knowing his thoughts might change her mind.
Leaving the wine flask, he headed back to the palace and to the room where Hephaistion lay.
Philip had gone, leaving a servant to oversee the care. Alexander found him sitting on the bed, a bowl of water by his side. He was wiping Hephaistion's face with a cloth.
"A fever is coming," the servant said. "Philip had him take some medicine, before he left, he said to come and fetch him if he became delirious."
"Is the medicine strong enough to stop the fever?" Alexander asked, pulling off his cloak and coming to the bed.
The servant shook his head. "Philip thinks not."
"Then he should have stayed."
"He needed his rest," the servant said, almost in an angry protest.
Alexander looked at the man before him, seeing he was tired too. "Go," he said, "I will stay and care for him."
The servant looked to Hephaistion, then to Alexander, as if judging if it would be the right thing to do. Only when Alexander assured him did he leave.
Alexander sat upon the bed, wringing the cloth after lifting it from the cold water. He folded it and then wiped Hephaistion's brow, running his hand along his face, having a reason to touch now. He repeated the motion, then ran the cloth along Hephaistion's neck, repeating that but sweeping along his right shoulder as well, then wiped his arms, lifting them, studying the muscle structure and thinking he had never seen arms so perfect.
Involved in his task, of keeping Hephaistion cool, he stood up and pulled back the sheet and blankets, then wet the cloth and wringed it out, folding it again, but this time to run the cloth along what could be seen of Hephaistion's abdomen, along his groin and down his thighs.
Hephaistion murmured in his sleep, licking his lips, as Alexander repeated this, looking at perfection before him, before bringing back the sheets and blankets and leaving the cloth in the bowl as he placed it upon the floor.
Looking about he saw a jug and a cup, then got up to pour some water and came back to hold it to Hephaistion's lips.
"Drink," he said.
The lips parted and took what was offered, then blue eyes opened to gaze on him.
"How late is it?"
"Not so late," Alexander replied.
Noticing Hephaistion shiver he put down the cup and fetched another blanket and pulled it over the rest to try to warm him.
"I am hot," complained Hephaistion, moving his hand as if to push the blankets away.
Alexander caught it, his fingers intertwined. "It is a fever, leave the blankets where they are."
Leaving his one hand clasping Alexander's, Hephaistion brought his other to his face, wiping his brow, he tried to sit up and gave a groan of pain.
"Where is Daedalus?" he said.
"Don't worry about him," Alexander replied.
"He's my brother."
"Not by blood."
Hephaistion sighed, tossing his head as if frustrated by his inability to move and the fever clawing at him. "Epeigeus. He'll be with his friends in the agora."
Alexander reached for the cloth, wringing it out once more and wiping Hephaistion's face. "It's late," he soothed, "Nobody is in the agora. Try to sleep."
"Daedalus will be there, Epeigeus, go fetch him back here before father knows that he has gone. As a favour to me, please."
"Hephaistion, you are not in Athens, this is Pella. Remember?"
Shaking his head, Hephaistion tried to pull away from the cloth. "Father. I don't know where Daedalus is, I don't know..."
Alexander stood, listening to Hephaistion in his delirium, then hurried to the door where a guard was posted. "Fetch the surgeon..., Philip," he ordered. "Now!"