Chapter 11 – Death of Cleitus – The Road to Redemption
Maracanda, Autumn 328 BC – Meeting of the Council
"He insulted our king!" screams Leonnatus at the top of his lungs "Before all the commanders and companions, Cleitus accused Alexander of abandoning his men and ruling as a selfish tyrant. He made out our King to be nothing more than an absolute ruler, who sought out only for his own personal glory and fame."
"For that our General should have been murdered!" counters Neandro, "We are free men. When have our rights to speak freely come to an end?"
The room roars on with more argument as each man takes to their feet with their own words for reproach and accusations. The large council tent, normally used for strategizing military tactics against the enemy, now served as its own battlefield. It was warfare of words fueled by heated bitterness and detestation. As the night wore on men shifted and situated themselves into two groups. At the end, the result is a dividing wall between those who supported Alexander's new world and those who clung on to the old ways. It was no longer a council comprised of a union of Macedonians but an assembly of have and have not's, old and young, allies for the King's reprieve and those seeking justice for Cleitus' death. For the most part, it was the old guard's last stand.
In the far right of the room sitting still and quiet was the King's unofficial Second in Command, his boon companion, his lover. Hephaestion along side his true comrades, Ptolemy and Perdiccas watched in horror and disbelief at the destruction of their King's dream of a unified empire and an integrated army. The young General had been hesitant leaving Alexander's side. Hephaestion had wanted to be present when his King awoke. After the banquet, Alexander had been inconsolable as he was being led to his tent. It had taken three guards to restrain him as he tried relentlessly to take his own life. The King was a vicious lion leaping and tackling any person within range who possessed a weapon. Throughout the next day, the King's frame of mind fluctuated from indifference to dejection to remoteness. With extreme devotion, many of Alexander's intimate friends had tried to give hope to the King's grief and pain. But all efforts had been unsuccessful. Once again duty pulls Hephaestion away from his truest love. The young General once more finds himself sitting distressed in the room filled tent. The second council meeting was again taking longer than anticipated. For two consecutive nights, the King's commanders have gathered to meet together and exchange ideas and opinions as to what to do with Alexander's action. Towards the end of the second council, it would appear there would still be no resolution in sight. The show of uncompromising determination between the old guard and the young companions was finally taking its toll on the general. There was to be no end to the rhetorical battle ensuing among the commanders in the room. As the evening progressed, Hephaestion began to understand the harsh reality of what this meeting foreshadowed. He painfully becomes aware that should they survive this tragedy, the campaign would be forever eclipsed by this internal conflict and deep division between the two fractions.
Exhausted with the grumbling and nonsensical debates, the young general slowly pushes himself off his couch with unwavering firmness of character and confidencey walks toward the center of the room. Immediately the noise and commotion of the tent comes to a standstill. "Brothers!" he announces with full conviction and resolution, "What would you have us do? Convict our King of murder and then rapidly watch this army crumble into panic and chaos?" Hephaestion stares across the entire room to find only the top of the heads of each man sitting before him; none were willing to face him. "I make no excuses for our King's actions this night. Nor has Alexander pleaded any differently for his responsibility of Cleitus' death. He is no more mortal than you and me." Hephaestion then steps to walk before several of the commanders both old and young. "But… what of you all? I have sat here for two nights listening to you all argue among yourselves using our King as a catalyst for the intense hatred and difference many of you carry against each other. I ask you here my brothers, are you able to see the truth through all your lies. Do you intend to sacrifice our King for this contempt you have all voiced during council?" The General then steps of up Neandros, staring at him sternly, "I have seen the look of anger on all your faces here tonight. Are you only able to see this empire our Great King had tirelessly created and many of our brothers have died for, through only troubled eyes?" Hephaestion then turns away to look at Leonnatus sitting across the room, "How deep and for how long do you wish to carry on this tension and animosity among us?"
The young General moves around the room again pacing to both side of the tent, "My brothers are you so blinded by your shame here that you will place the burden of our differences solely upon the shoulder of our King? The burden should rest with all of us who have indulged in the vast riches and wealth that we have gained through the years of our conquest. Together we have all basked in the glory and grandeur of our victories. The gold talents that fill heavy in your pockets and the power at your fingertips have all been made possible by the leadership of our King and the unity of this army. As of late, I have seen no one step forward to return what has been freely given to us."
"We have all fought hard and put our lives on the line for what we have gained from this campaign." calls out an anonymous voice. "We deserve all we have been given."
"True!" smartly responds Hephaestion, "But how far and how much do you believe any of us would have achieved without our King?" The General pauses and is relieved to see the nods of agreement from many of the men.
With certitude, Hephaestion raises his voice with more passion, "I tell you here and now, the finger of blame should be upon all of us for considering the notion of abandoning our King in his darkest hour." He walks up behind Ptolemy reaching out to place a hand to his friend's shoulder as he looks out into the room, "If we are to desert and sacrifice our King, who among you will raise your sword and convict him for his action last night? Surely there must be one among you who believes they carry the right to execute our King. And should you put to death our Great King,.. what then?" The General momentarily looks down to his feet and with a deep breath he looks out intently to his fellow commanders, "Would you lead us?" pointing randomly at various men sitting in each side of the room. "Will you take Alexander's place? I tell you my brothers without our King you have no army and without our army, by all the Gods, we are all as good as dead…ferry bound towards Hades!"
The room stood in complete silence. Without another word, Hephaestion retakes his seat again aside his two companions giving off no indication for the true fear and uneasiness building in his body. This was to be his greatest performance, one that would require him to put aside his heartache and focus on finding the right words to convince the council to exonerate the King. Hephaestion was fighting his toughest battle to protect his lover's greatest dream and his reign.
"Treason!" softly utters out Eumenes, "We can declare Cleitus' action as treason."
Astonishingly the room remains quiet. Finding sudden courage the secretary steps up off his seat to face the room. He is visibly anxious but finds strength when he catches the warm smile of an unexpected ally, Hephaestion. "Cleitus' conduct last night could be considered a high treason, an act of treachery against our King. Cleitus' open display of hostility against Alexander's reign and conspiracy for eliciting dissention among the ranks would justify his killing. The conviction of treason would save face for our King and appease the army."
Once again the tent comes alive with sentiments of rage and disbelief. Both sides come to their feet trying to convince the other of the merits of their argument. Hephaestion, along with his close companions sit defeated as the verbal assault among the commanders as carry on further into the night.
As the moon hits high night, it is the secretary who brusquely marches himself with a small stool into the far end of the room and stood above shoulders of the screaming commanders. "Macedonians!" bellows out Eumenes, "Here my out my brothers!" The yelling men gradually cease their arguing as they listen attentively to the secretary. "Cleitus had made his choice to confront and antagonize our King the other night. His decision to defy and counter Alexander's reign and leadership was his alone. I saw none of you step to his side when he called upon others to join him in his argument. Must we allow for the choices of one man become that of the whole army?" The tired and worn out secretary stands straight amazed at his ability to hold the interest the men gathered in room. "True by declaring Cleitus' conduct as an act of treason, we will pardon our King of any crimes. But, we must think of ourselves as a whole, as one, for the army is watching. Alexander is what holds this army together, without him we are nothing! Come let us put aside our differences and think what is best for us and this campaign."
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Across the Camp in the King's Pavilion:
Alexander's head is heavy with drowsiness. He carefully pushes himself up on his bed leaning his back against the headboard. He tries to focus on his surroundings. The small oil lamp flickers on a distant table to faintly confirm to him that he was in his own tent.
He is alone. The shadows of the setting sun reflect on the tent reaffirms to the King his fears that he had slept through most of the afternoon. He tries to gather his thoughts. Alexander wipes the sweat dripping on his brow. The effect of his nightmare lingers within him. It had been so vivid. The terror of his dream engulfs his mind filling him with utter rage and hatred. Alexander quickly bolts up. Was it a dream? The previous evening flashes upon him; his heavy drinking, Cleitus' antagonizing remarks, the spear he held firmly as he lunged for his old friend. Suddenly, the waves of remorse crash within the King and through his vision the harsh realities of his cruelty and tyranny awakens him. It was not a figment of his imagination or an illusion created by Hypnos. Defeated and filled with renewed guilt the King turns into his pillows to once again let loose the agony and the regret swelling within him. He cries out in agonizing pain.
With a heavy heart the grief for the loss of his old comrade and for himself consumes the King. He now stood at the edge of abyss. Alexander had allowed for his pride and ego to override his rationale. He had been morphed into a coldhearted murderer. He was now a solidified tyrant damned forever with the memories of the death of his friend. He now gave reason for his men to distrust him and perhaps to fear him. How was he to persuade them he led by passion for glory and a sense of level headedness that once inspired them? From this point forward, he would be viewed as impulsive, unstable and unpredictable.
The movement from the shadow of the tent alerts the King. Stepping out with his head hung low was his eunuch. Silently, Bagoas approaches the King, the expression on the young boy's face spoke it all, the concern, grief and anxiety. The usually pristine and composed servant now stood heavy eyed with fatigue and disheveled in his appearance.
"My King" murmurs the nervous boy, "how may I…" But he is cut off by Alexander raising his hand motioning him to stop.
"I do not require anything" cuts Alexander, "I wish to be alone."
"My King" pleas Bagoas as he cautiously takes another step forward to reach out for the Alexander's bed, "You must try to take some food or something to drink. It will help give you strength."
"Strength!!" annoying blurts out Alexander, "You wish to revitalize me so I can once again kill another of my comrades" He then drops his eyes towards the ground, "Perhaps even kill you" He then turns with death in his eyes and with a heavy heart. "I am a cursed man" snarls the King, "No matter, what I say or do, the Gods have forsaken me. I am a broken man!" A depressed and malice laughs bawls from the King, "I have become the tormenter of men, Bagoas. I am a titan among men ill-fated to now roam through eternity alone."
The eunuch is speechless and unable to respond to the deep seeded regret spurring out of the King. Again, he slowly moves up to Alexander to comfort him but is stopped short in his track, when suddenly out of the air flies a cup aimed at his head.
"Leave!" barks out the King, "I do not wish to be disturbed. Have the guards dismissed I wish to be alone." Alexander sits up straight in his bed to further emphasize his point.
But Bagoas does not move away, rather he courageously takes another step forward. But again, he his attacked with every object within the King's reach, "Do you not understand" hisses Alexander "Out!!"
The young eunuch hustles out of the tent distraught and grief-stricken and runs towards the council tent.
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Having dismissed all the guards and his servants, Alexander turns again in his bed wrapped around his sheets unable to sleep. His head was heavy and the remorse was crushing his spirit. He rolls onto his pillow to stare across the room to notice a small stream of smoke floating in jagged lines into the air. The King focuses upon the white clouds and makes out his small alter to the God Dionysus. He closes his eyes trying to erase the image but he flickers them open to once more stare at the hallowed alter. He lays out concentrating only at the small table that held a statute of the wine god, the inspirer of ritual madness and ecstasy, along side two oil lamps and a small bowls of incense. The statue stood face forward across him staring at the disheartened King. The flames of the lamps create a shadow over the god's face producing a lively illusion of laughter at the King. Alexander catches sight of the sardonic expression of the God. The life like imagery further crashes down the dread and misery brewing though his vein.
Slowly Alexander swings his legs over the bed and sits naked with only the thin sheets draping over his legs. He sit quietly mesmerized at the Alter as if trying to receive a message it was surreptitiously conveying. The King leans forward with his elbows to his knees. He drops his head in humiliation.
Alexander tears out his hair unable to bear the despair engulfing within his soul. He begins to wonder if he will be able to make it out alive as he reflects and connects the past night. In his own way, he was trying to come to grasp the situation but the feeling being revealed to him turns him cold and detached. Everything comes into focus and he soon finds himself hating his own existence. He looks at the statute crying to himself, "Is this a warning? An evil sign?" With a long face, he bows his head down to his chest, "Do you mean to abandon me?" screams out Alexander, "Will this be my end?" The King steps off his bed, his body is numb but his heart clashes internally with his soul. He is struggling if he would be able to live through his shame? Could he continue on with his campaign with it?
During the early part of the day, his most closest and intimate comrades had come to visit and counsel the King. But all attempts from the companions to console Alexander had been refused. He had renounced every explanations and justifications offered to soothe him. Many of the King's companions had tried explaining to him that the Gods had sought revenge using Alexander as a device for wielding his wrath through his killing of Cleitus. Several others tried reminding the King of his earlier dream of Cleitus talking with Parmenion and his sons under a large tree along side a green hillside. It was Ptolemy who had zealously argued to convince the King that the dream was a forewarning of Cleitus' imminent death. He reminded the King of how in his dream he saw Cleitus sitting together with Philotas and his father content and unscarred by any battle or misfortune. But to each reason provided to Alexander, he dismissed them contesting that it had been his hand that held the spear lunged into Cleitus' stomach. The death of the old commander had been Alexander's doing alone.
But now alone in his chamber, the King sits repugnant and aghast with himself. He could no long feel his senses but perhaps he just stopped caring for all that mattered around him. The consciousness of his guilt and self deprivation was overpowering his pride and confidence. The sheets slowly fall off the King as he staggers to carry the weight of his hollow body towards the Alter. He kneels nude before the God of the wine cloaked over with his remorse and self pettiness. On the small table, the King reaches out to take a lighter and incense as he burns them in homage to the god. The smoke of the rich scented aroma fills the air. The steam generated creates the illusion of tiny rows of tears falling from Dionysus' face. But the even line smile of the statute lingers creating the appearance of the God's smirking in delight in the instability of Alexander's state of mind. Dionysus looks to be relishing in the moment, pleased with the King's personally inflicted destruction. The dark crimson eyes painted on the statute stares through Alexander as he looks up once again for a sign of forgiveness. Then through the small cloud of smoke, red paint can be seen melting off the statue as the steam burns over it.
Alexander follows the crimson colored oil flowing down each side of Dionysus' arms. He stares silently at the trail of oil flowing downward and suddenly catches sight of his own dagger lying on the small table. The paint slowly drips onto the blade of his ivory hilted dagger. The King has received his message. He now understands what he must do. Alexander reaches out for his knife.
Out of nowhere, the soft sound of a cough diverts the King's attention to the flaps of his tent. Alexander quickly hides the dagger under the cushion of his couch. He looks up to see Anaxarchus standing behind him. "My King" humbly bows the young philosopher, "Aristander has requested I see you. I understand that you have also spoken to Callisthenes." The King is non-responsive resettling his gaze upon the statute. Anaxarchus appraises the situation before him and carefully walks up to the King. "Is this Alexander, the son of Zeus and the source of law on earth for all men?" boldly exclaims the philosopher, "Are you not the King of this Great Empire, the King of Persia, and the Pharaoh of Egypt? Yet I find you kneeling upon the floor like a petty servant." Alexander is astounded and taken aback from the manner he was being spoken to by the young curly haired youth barely older than the King himself. On any given day, the King would have the man flogged for such impudence; but, Alexander is physically deflated by the weight of his emotions; he is unable to counter the bold statement.
Realizing the emotional vulnerability of the King, Anaxarchus continues on berating Alexander. He had thought a more direct and confrontational approach would be more effective in converting the King's melancholy state. "My Sire" extends out the philosopher's hand to the Alexander, "You are God Born King. Come let us get you dressed. The God among men should not be seen naked and weak before his army."
Anaxarchus' words awaken Alexander out of his stupor. He turns to look at his friend with renewed fire in his eyes. How had Alexander forgotten his lineage with Zeus, his ancestral tie with Ammon. He was no meager earthly bound man. The ingenious philosopher had managed to manipulate the King out of his despondent state of mind by effectively tapping into Alexander's vanity. Anaxarchus' leads the King to his bed and pulls out from the royal coffer the most elaborately designed chiton he could find. "My King" calmly states the philosopher, "This attire is more appropriate for you… for the God among mortals".
"But it had been my hand that wielded the spear into Cleitus" whispers the King, "I am but a mere mortal, who has carried out a horrific and inexcusable crime."
"Nay" confidently counters Anaxarchus, "You should hold no regret for what has transpired the night before. You are the King. Your word and action are limitless and unrestricted. As the God Born King, you are free to do as you wish."
"Of course!" nods the King in agreement with a renewed sense of self-dignity, "I am the King. I have done nothing wrong."
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Outside the Council Tent:
He pushes open the tent flaps followed by Ptolemy and Perdiccas. The men were mentally exhausted. At the end of two nights of meeting with the other commanders, a resolution was finally made. It was a decision that would best serve to maintain the unification of the army than to preserve Alexander's self esteem. Collectively, the council had come to an agreement to charge Cleitus with treason and exonerate the King of murder.
As Hephaestion walks out into the full moon night, he is immediately approached by the King's young eunuch. The youth is hysterical and in a frazzled state. Forgetting the code of behavior when confronting a high ranking commander, Bagoas leaps before the General fanatically grabbing hold of Hephaestion's arms. The startled men instinctively go for the hilts of their sword.
"My Lord!" frantically calls out the young servant, struggling to find this breath, "The King… the king…. is not well…" Then all of the sudden, Bagoas takes sight of the three companions' moving to arm themselves and quickly realizes his abrupt behavior and rudeness. He takes a few steps back to bow his head low and hastily stands silent before the Generals. Hephaestion finally able to decipher the eunuch's outburst becomes alarmed and moves up to tightly grip the boy's forearm. "What is it?" questions the general in a low growling voice. "What has happened to the King?"
Bagoas' whole body is shaking but he manages to gain his composure as he looks up to stare directly at Hephaestion, "The King has ordered everyone out of his tent. I fear for him my Lord… for his life..." He then looks down, "I have seen the look of death upon his eyes my Lord… his daimon…"
With those last words, Hephaestion roughly pushes aside the eunuch to lead his comrades pass Bagoas to storm forward across the campsite, to King's pavilion.
"Hephaestion!" comes a shout from behind the three men shoving their way through the gathering crowd spilling out of the council tent.
"Hephaestion wait!" exclaims Eumenes as he reaches out a hand to tug at the General's chiton. "We need to hold a trial for the King"
"A what?" sharply turns Hephaestion staring irately "You seek to give grounds to humiliate our King before the army?
"A mock trial" hastily explains the overweening secretary, "for show and appearances only." Eumenes immediately takes in the glaring stares from the men facing him. He understood quickly did not have much time to explain himself. "Hephaestion you must convince the King to stand trial in order that the council may officially absolve him and charge Cleitus with treason. The men must see that the King's killing of his general was justifiable and with cause."
Hephaestion steps forward coming inches before Eumenes "You know better than I…. I have no authority to command the King to do anything he himself does not wish to do."
"But you do have more influence than anyone in this army. As his lover, you must try to convince him to see the rationale and common good of holding this mock trial."
The young general steps up prepared to physically counter Eumenes' outspokenness, when he feels a hand grip his shoulder, "Hephaestion it would benefit the army to see Alexander cleared of Cleitus' death publicly, before all the men." calmly interjects Ptolemy, "It may be best for all…"
"We also need the King to offer a proper funeral… it should be granted to Cleitus…" further adds the secretary.
"I will make no promises" replies Hephaestion throwing an icy stare, "I will talk to him." He then snaps around to head towards the King's pavilion.
The secretary once again moves up to give chase after Hephaestion. But he is stopped with a firm hand to his chest. "You have heard him!" tersely barks Perdiccas, "Hephaestion will talk to him."
"Hephaestion must be made to understand. The King must come to realize what he must do for…." desperately argues Eumenes.
"He understands!" spits out Perdiccas, "Now let him tend to the King. You would best serve your cause if you remain here!" snorts the blond haired General as he steps up with a look of warning, "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes… but be sure!" before Eumenes is able to utter another word, the General disregards any further comment from the secretary and turns away to catch up with his fellow comrades.
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Outside the King's Pavilion:
As Hephaestion returns to the King's pavilion he instantly notices only two guards present at the front entrance. The tent flaps are sealed and the braziers around the entryway have been drawn out. "Where are the others?" demands Hephaestion "Why are there only two guards stationed out here?"
"The King had dismissed the others my Lord" quickly responds one of the guards, "The King had ordered the others out of his tent."
"Do you mean to say he is alone!" bellows out the General, his rage burning through his veins, "Hades and all the furries. You Fools!!" Staring sternly at the other guard, "You there gather the others and see to that that these braziers are relit. I want a path cleared with guards bordering each side down the passageway leading to the tent at each end. Do I make myself clear?"
"But my Lord… he is not alone" quickly stutters one of the guards, "Ana.."
Perdiccas steps up to place a hand on the corner of Hephaestion's shoulder. The young general cups his friend arm, "I will be alright! See to it that the guards are posted." He then throws an arm around his companion, "If I could ask you and Ptolemy to wait for me in the antechamber?"
"You never need to ask!" reassuring whispers Perdiccas, "I will be right here."
"I know!" softly states Hephaestion as he releases his hold of his friend. "Promise regardless of what you both may hear you must not interfere."
Both men reply with a silent nod all too familiar with the King's impulsive and violent tendencies when influenced by unstable emotions and or his daemon.
The General cautiously walks up to the tent and enters into the antechamber when he finds Anaxarchus lifting the interior flaps leading into the King's private quarters. The General comes face to face with the unexpected visitor. Hephaestion stares at the philosopher suspiciously. "My Lord!" nods the philosopher, "Our King is doing better now. I would not worry."
"What have you done?" snides the young General as he shoves past the philosopher.
Hephaestion pushes through the tent flaps and finds the King pacing before his large desk. "Alexander" calls out the general. "What did that fool headed Anaxarchus have to…"
Hephaestion's words are cut short as Alexander storms towards his comrade.
"Phai!" enthusiastically whispers the King, "Where have you been?" Alexander is frantic. He embraces his lover with the strength of ten men. He forces himself onto the General ravishing his dry lips against Hephaestion face. The young general is taken aback as he pulls to look at Alexander's face. The King appeared to look right through the General; his eyes gave a faraway gaze. He looked to be somebody else.
"Alexander" calmly states the General, as he withdraws slowly away. He is utterly confounded with the King's sudden change in demeanor. The previous night the King had been inconsolable crying out for Cleitus. Alexander had lapsed into depression, rebuffing and scolding off the slightest touch or show of comfort. But now, the King appeared more lighthearted and relaxed. Miraculously, Alexander appeared to be his old self transformed out from his anguishing pain and grief.
"What has happened Alexander? I do not understand this sudden change in your behavior?"
Alexander grins maliciously at his closest comrade. "I have been made to understand that as a God Born King… I need no reason to justify my conduct last night. I am a man above the laws."
Hephaestion is speechless. But his expression gives way to his distress and shock. Alexander does not miss his lover's widen eyes and down sided frown. The King was well aware that his General was not convinced. His friend's reaction causes Alexander to burn with a clash of rage and disappointment. He had expected his lover to understand and perhaps be more compassionate, at least far more than any other. Dismayed with his friend's response, the King harshly breaks his hold of his lover.
"You do not agree!" annoyingly growls the King as he spurs around and walks away, "You would see me as weak and nothing. Whereas, Anaxarchus has helped me to see that I am more than a mere mortal."
"The self-seeking conniving philosopher seeks only to exploit you. He has clouded your mind at a time when you are most susceptible and fragile. Anaxarchus cannot offer any real solutions for you. At most he is offering you a short term answer to a long term problem." snaps the General, Hephaestion refrains from arguing further regarding the philosopher's reckless attempts of invoking the King's fragile ego by encouraging Alexander's personal pride and sense of worth. The General feared that exacerbating Alexander's already heightened self-importance would only awaken his demon. Hephaestion clung to the hopes that Alexander would be able to see through this tragedy with tolerance and reasoning. Yet, the General understood, that his lover's unyielding nature would push him beyond the human limits of personal discipline and patience. Hephaestion moves slowly to the King with an extended hand, "Alexander" tenderly pleas the General "You are emotionally vulnerable. You must allow yourself to come to terms with Cleitus' death but not at the cost of your sanity."
"I am no child Hephaestion!" retorts Alexander bitterly, "I do not need to be coddled and looked after by any nursemaid." The King turns to press forward when he finds himself looking into the deep cerulean eyes reflecting back to him the inner turmoil spinning within his lover. It is at that moment, Alexander begins to realize, that he has once again broken Hephaestion's heart. He was once more hurting the one person he loved above all others.
"No Alexander. You are the Great King. You have long ago outgrown our boyhood antics and behaviors. But still you are the same man I knew as a child who dreams of seeing the end of the world, of surpassing his ancestral heroes, of being a better warrior, a greater King."
The King turns again to look at his lover. With a hollow look, he whispers softly, "What am I Hephaestion? Am I Divine or Great?"
Hephaestion hesitates in responding to the complex question. He immediately acknowledges Alexander's expectations and predetermined response. The General was treading in a perilous terrain; he risked the possibility of driving his lover towards his pride or rage. He saw himself losing his Alexander to the dream his King wanted so badly.
With a deep sigh and bracing for the worse, Hephaestion looks up to face his highly volatile King, "You are a Great man blessed by the Gods. You possess both the human nature to understand the weakness and fragility of man, but also carry the strength and courage only the Gods could bestow among their own. It with this balance between being man and a god that you are able to be both great and divine. But my love, do not allow your self pride to distort your judgment."
Alexander swings away as he absorbs the impact of his lover's words. The King suddenly feels exhausted. He had struggled for almost two days with his personal sorrow and depression. He had contemplated his own death and was driven to the point of madness. But he was given a way out, a reason for his transgression. Anaxarchus' offer for a solution was more alluring. Yet in his heart, he understood Hephaestion and knew his lover argued a valid point. He now stood at a crossroad between elevating his personal belief of his standing with the Gods or shattering into small pieces likes a merger simpleton, a mere mortal. Alexander crumbles onto his couch losing a battle with his emotions and thoughts crashing within him.
"I have allowed for my daemon to invade me, take possession of my body and scornfully triumph over my will" dejectedly whispers the King, "How can I ever inspire my men to follow me now?"
"Your bravery inspires hope to your men and it's your strength to face your fears that motivates them." responds Hephaestion carefully choosing his words, "There can be no limit to the bravery you inspire. You only need to find the courage to start over." The General holds his breath hoping his words would lure his lover out of his internal struggles, his madness.
"Anaxarchus has tried to convince me… to help me realize that I am a King born from the Gods. I wish … I want to believe him…" sadly mutters the King holding his head in disgrace, realizing that he could not escape the truth. "But I know my fears Hephaestion. In my mind logic takes hold but in my heart the daemon grips me."
Hephaestion looks into his lover and for the first time takes sight of the signs of the weakness in his eyes. The fire of hesitation was burning bright in the soul of his strong King. "Anaxarchus is an idealistic man who only looks to flatter you with his imprudent fables." answers the General, "One day he will find himself pounded to death for his atrocious notions."
"I killed one of my own companions. Cleitus was family to me." mumbles the King, "His own sister nursed me as a babe. Is there no end to my tyranny?" He glances up to his lover, "Who will be next? Is there no limit to the power of my daemon?"
"Sometimes Alexander, you have to lose the ones you love the most, for it's the only way you can know how important they were to you. But Cleitus was an old man, tired of his duties and foolish." Quickly counters Hephaestion, "I do not believe for a moment that Cleitus' death is to be your demise my love. This act, his death was decided before this evening came to pass. Cleitus' fate with Hades that faithful night was predestined before you confronted him." There is no response to Hephaestion's explanation. To the General's dismay, he receives no verbal response from his lover. The King continues to sits sullen and unattached from reality.
"It was me alone who drove the spear into him" whispers Alexander closing his eyes unable to look at his lover, "It was my action alone that led to Cleitus' death. As such, I have proven that I am but a fragile mortal… a man abandoned by the Gods."
"Do you remember when we met with the Priestess at Delphi before beginning this campaign?" kneels down Hephaestion to his lover.
"I do!" murmurs Alexander, "She said I was "invincibly unrelenting"
"You still are my love. Your existence Alexander through your ambition and sense of adventure is what enthuses and makes the men and your army holds confidence in you… in this campaign. You give us something to believe in Alexander. You give us more to our futile existence that makes us alive." Confidently explains Hephaestion cupping his lover's face to look tenderly into the sea of misery, "You are a man ahead of your time. You have taught all of us through example… through your love, that you will never give up nor do you give in… you are the initiator of change."
"Who I was before, I can no longer become" murmurs Alexander, refusing to accept his lover's touch, "I fear the silence around me now, as it is in the silence that I hear the truth of my pain."
"My love" tenderly reaches out the General, "There is more to being a King then wearing a crown. Your men would have never given their loyalty to you, having followed you this far and for this long without your respect and love. It is you alone that inspires this Army."
"Truly I wish I could find comfort in my pain for then I would be able to hide my true shame." counters the King, "If I could walk through the doors of my mind and hold memory close at hands to help me understand my daemon's hold over me… over us. if only I had the strength." Alexander looks away, visibly shaken with pain, "I cannot allow myself to hurt another of my companions… to hurt you." Unable to hold back his emotion, Alexander allows himself to fall apart before his lover. He feels alone and paralyzed.
Hephaestion is beside himself in grief unable to pull his lover out of his melancholy. He leans forward between his lover's legs and looks compassionately at the dark eyes of remorse, "Your humility to understand the human nature is what makes you great. You cannot tear your life apart for this. If you want to talk about this then come and sit with me Alexander and together we will share your burden." But the King remains motionless deeply lost in his grief. The General is unable to find any signs of courage but only gloomy clouds of sadness.
"Time is too short my love. I know there is something more for you as destined by the Gods. The dark shadow of these days will soon be eclipsed by all you glories Alexander. The rays of your bright sun will set above all those throughout time." continues the General, "Any failures, you may have felt from these past days, transcend over other men's futile successes."
"You see me as a failure? And now believe yourself equal to me" snaps Alexander sitting straight up in his couch, his rage evident in his tone, "Do you seek to bring me down to the level of a commoner in that I may be made into a fool?"
Hephaestion is stunned. He had not expected the terse response. How did his offer of condolence turn into a personal insult? The tables have turned against Hephaestion's efforts for a peaceful resolution.
"Alexander my love" pleas the General, offering his hand out to the King again. But he is scornfully rebuffed and Hephaestion is left to watch hopelessly as his lover turns more inwards into his emotions and brewing daemon. Devastated, the General sits quietly as he observes the King's demeanor turn threatening. A storm of emotional turmoil swirls within the depth of Alexander's psyche. Hephaestion foreshadows the inevitability of a long emotional and perhaps physical battle. Alexander's daemon was fighting a vast war with his lover's soul. Alexander the man, who could be restrained and logical, was gradually being replaced by the Glorious King, one who could be influenced and blinded by his own power, his own destiny and his own need for greatness. The General watches powerlessly as his lover transforms before him. Soon a battle would begin.
"Your men still believe in you my love," tenderly states Hephaestion, "The council of your peers has charged Cleitus of treason… and" holding back the emotions crying inside him, "they have pardoned you of any crime…"
"The council… of my peers" growls Alexander, "Am I not the Great King?"
"Alexander?" implores Hephaestion, "It is the Macedonian way to stand before you men to be…"
"To be judged like a mere subservient fool" scrawls Alexander, "Would you have me humble myself like some lowly slave or perhaps a eunuch made solely for the pleasure of other men."
"No!" cuts Hephaestion but he is unable to go further as the King angrily thrusts Hephaestion to the floor, "I have heard enough of your nonsense" gruffly responds Alexander as he reaches under his cushion and leaps to his feet. At that moment, Hephaestion takes sight of the ivory hilted dagger. The General is baffled as to how the King had come into possession of the weapon.
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"In your eyes I can see the truth of your feelings" earnestly states Alexander, "You see me as weak, a monster among men." The King moves up walking around the area of his chamber. "I can see your disappointment."
"You are wrong" cautiously replies Hephaestion, keeping a steady eye on his lover, following him pacing around the room, "You are a force of nature, beyond mere words. I have never ceased in my love for you. Nor have I ever lied to you."
The words have a counter effect on the King. Alexander's emotions are overwhelmed with disappointment and frustration. He was teetering between his self-absorbed glory and the humiliation that weaved through his moral fiber. Alexander feels the tension of the past days consume his body. He shakes in anger and rage. The King needed peace and resolution with himself.
Hephaestion courageously steps up to walk over to his lover. Alexander stares defiantly with a look of bitterness and hostility. "My love…. my King… you are tired and in need of food…." begs the General as he extends out his hand towards the dagger held by the King, "Come, let me tend to you and…."
"NO!" screams out Alexander, clasping his face with both of his hands in utter rage. Throughout his life he had been told of his heroic ancestral lineage; he had always believed himself destined for a life unlike any other man. He was designed for greatness, to live among the stars. Yet here he stood disheartened and a poor reflection of the ambitious and arrogance of his youth. For the first time in his life, Alexander is unable to grasp a clear solution to his situation. The touch of Hephaestion hand around his waist sets off the King to react. He blocks the General's move toward him and swings his free hand to hit his comrade in the face. But Hephaestion holds his ground ignoring the blood flowing down his cut lip.
Alexander staggers back realizing the pain he had inflicted on his lover. "Phai!" whispers the King, "You must leave…. I can feel my daemon take hold and I cannot ….. allow myself… not with you."
"We will go through this together my love" calmly responds Hephaestion moving towards again reaching out for the dagger, "Please hand me the knife." Once more, the General tenderly clasp for Alexander's arm, but he is again assaulted with another punch to the chest. The General stumbles back from the force of the blow and trips against the nearby stool onto the floor.
Alexander looks down at his lover feeling his rage ignite within him. He is fighting with himself. He desperately wanted to embrace the man crumbled on the floor. But instead he curses his weakness and turns away gripping tightly to the hilt of his dagger.
"What is to come of me Phai?" whispers Alexander, "I am the Great King blessed by the Gods, yet you and the others would have me stand trial to be judged by men beneath my statute. I cannot have a member of my phalanx or men from my cavalry take me away from my destiny."
"It is but a mock trial Alexander!" quietly replies Hephaestion, "A show… a formality of sort. The decision has been made. This is for your men to settle their concerns and to be given reassurance that the much loved King was justified in his action."
"They will see me as weak!" snaps the King, "I am NOT WEAK!"
"Nay" counters the General, "They will fear you for now they know of your intolerance for dissent and insolence among your rank and file and within your command. Others will think twice before countering you again."
"So I have become a tyrant, an oppressor of my men... my empire." sarcastically cuts Alexander.
"You are wrong my love…" moves up Hephaestion to his knees, "You are the King… the sole commander of the campaign. Your men love you and if I knew nothing else about you this fact alone would validate your honor and valor Alexander."
"It can never be the same Hephaestion" snorts Alexander, "My destiny has been written by the Gods. I know now that sacrifices will need to be made. Aristotle had once warned us to be careful of our dreams as they have a tendency to swallow us alive."
"You are meant to prove the old philosopher wrong my love," coolly replies Hephaestion, now kneeling before his King, looking for an opportunity to rise to his feet, "You must remember the man that you are… You are great for your belief in unifying your empire and your men."
"Perhaps I have been too naive in my faith" softly sighs Alexander, "Many blood has been spilt and many more dreams lost". The fire in the King's eyes begins to soften and Hephaestion waits with abated breath, hoping that his lover was finding the strength to win the war exploding inside him. The General watches his lover grip firmly to his dagger and an uneasiness wave rolling over his body.
"Hades Balls! They will sacrifice me?" swore out the King, now pacing frantically in the room, "I am a lamb out for the slaughter."
"No my love…they will elevate you to glory!" softly counters Hephaestion. He cautiously slides a leg up as he moves towards the couch. Hephaestion sits up beseeching his lover with his sorrowful gaze.
"I am the KING!" screams out Alexander, "I am the son of Zeus – Ammon. I should not have to answer to anyone but the Gods! Yet I fear that the Gods now wish for retribution… for my failure… to rise above the weakness of being a man. They will need an offering for my misdeeds… for their disappointment."
Hephaestion looks up with sadness and love. He offers a last appeal to his lover. "If a sacrifice is what you need ... then take me!"
"NO!!" screams Alexander madly, "I will not lose you to all this… it is you that I love… more than myself!... the offer should come from me." At that moment, the King steps away from his lover with a distant look, with death in his eyes.
"Alexander NO!" screams Hephaestion "DO..NT!!"
Alexander lifts the blade to himself but he is thrown off balance as Hephaestion leaps from the floor to struggles for the knife.
TBC
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** Sorry this chapter is soooo long. But I have finished this section and am ready to move on. There is one more chapter to post in a day or so. I just want to give you all a little time to absorb this chapter. Please share your thoughts with me on this story!
Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Angstman for waiting so patiently for this update. Also a huge thank you to Stella for being my saving grace with her thoughts.