Part XI
The sun had not yet risen when he awoke. Dawn was likely still hours off and with it would come the wedding games his father had been planning for months. The glory of Macedon would be on display for all of Greece; his father would finally be able to prove that their home was not just some backwater tribal land. Macedon would show her Hellenistic routes. It would not have surprised him to learn that his father had not slept at all that night. Likely the only reason he had slept was because of the man still slumbering next to him.
Over the past few days Hephaestion had been a most welcome distraction. It was at night when he needed to be distracted the most. That was when his thoughts got ahead of him and he could not stop his fears from encroaching inwards. And, as he had since they were young, Hephaestion kept those fears from swallowing him whole.
Even without the sun, the moon still cast enough light for him to see. More than enough to see Hephaestion who slept peacefully beside him, lips slightly parted. And even though the posture of his body showed only relaxation, Alexander knew that the arm that stretched under his pillow was clutching tightly at a knife.
"I wish that you could sleep peacefully again," Alexander murmured, lightly laying his palm overtop of Hephaestion's cheek.
Hephaestion shifted about a bit, but did not waken. It amazed Alexander that even in sleep Hephaestion knew him. When anyone else made so much as a sound Hephaestion would be awake in an instant and on the defensive. Instead of waking, Hephaestion sighed deeply and stretched a moment before settling once again.
Alexander kept his hand on Hephaestion's cheek, watching him as he slept. It was something he was quite certain he would never tire of; a form of meditation that only he is allowed to partake in. Alexander feared the day he would have to share Hephaestion with another. It was a day that he knew would come regardless. At some point both he and Hephaestion would need to take wives. It was something that could be put off while his father continued to live, but at some point it was a reality they would need to face.
Stirring slightly, Hephaestion's eyelids began to flutter. Alexander kept his hand still, hoping that he would not wake completely. It was a futile effort, though, because Hephaestion woke just the same.
Blinking his eyes sluggishly, a smile tugs at the corners of Hephaestion's lips. "You should be asleep. Today will be a long day."
"I did not mean to wake you," Alexander murmured, stroking his thumb over Hephaestion's cheek. "Go back to sleep. There is no need for both of us to be awake."
Snorting quietly, Hephaestion leaned his head into Alexander's palm. "You are thinking far too loudly for me to even consider sleeping. Besides, if I sleep you will only worry. And when you worry, you tend to fidget about," Hephaestion yawned, rousing himself more with each word. "It would be better for both of us if you tell me now what is troubling you. Then we could get some more sleep before we are expected at the theatre."
"I wish that we could be seated together," Alexander said softly, rolling slightly so that he was lying mostly on his back. "You are first among my Companions; that should permit you a seat near my own."
"I am also your male lover. Your older lover at that—"
"Seven months is hardly enough to be of any consequence," Alexander interrupted him.
Hephaestion hoisted himself up on one elbow. "All the more reason not to draw attention to things. You know this as well as I do."
"I do," Alexander relented, sighing deeply. "When I am king, though, you will always be at my side. In Asia as well. We will honour Achilles and Patroclus together and ride into Babylon side by side. Your importance will never be in doubt."
Hephaestion's smile was utterly exhausted, but lacked nothing in intensity. All the same, Alexander felt guilty for keeping him awake and leaned up to catch his lips in a quick kiss.
"We may not be able to watch the games together, but we can celebrate once they have finished."
The glint in Hephaestion's eyes as he said those words heated Alexander all the way through.
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Whenever he had a spare moment, he checked the contents of his pouch. The items within were nearly as important as the knife belted at his waist. Much like the insides of his pouch, the knife would be a further source of misdirection. Though not so as amusing as the first.
Only a few more hours then all of their planning would come to fruition. Philip would be dead before the sun even reached its zenith and the rest of his line would follow soon afterwards. He had never had any care about Alexander's fate, but certain people backing the endeavour did. And as they were the ones who held the purse strings their word was law.
For him, though, once Philip was dead there was nothing further he could do. His identity would be known and he would be hunted relentlessly until he reached Asia Minor. There others would keep him safe.
Checking once more that the items were safely stored in his pouch, he looked towards his companion. "We should see to the horses."
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The entire night she had not been able to sleep a wink. Philip had stayed away from their bed claiming he had no wish to disturb her with his own restlessness. Trying to convince her beloved husband that she would find no sleep as well had proved futile, leaving Eurydike alone in too large a bed.
Exciting as this had all sounded back in Pella, surrounded by the whole of Greece she could not help but feel uneasy. Many of the men who had come to Aegae would gladly see Philip dead. More than half of those would willingly strike the blow themselves. They were irrational fears, ones that Philip would no doubt laugh off, but she could not escape them. It was the fate of every queen, knowing that with her husband's death she became a puppet. And should he have it his way, her uncle would be the one guiding the strings from which her infant son hung suspended.
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Standing at the narrow window that overlooked the courtyard, her one view outside of her rooms, Olympias watched life return to the pathetic settlement Philip had banished her to. The only reason she had not made any attempt at escape as of yet was the knowledge that soon Philip would be dead and her beloved Alexander would summon her back to Pella. It was Philip and that whore who had poisoned her sweet boy's mind against her and without them he would come to his senses.
She only wished that she could be in Aegae to see it all come to pass. Her darling boy would mourn his whore for a time, but in the end he would come to see that it was all for the best. He would wed, get his new bride pregnant and then depart for Asia leaving her as regent. She would ensure that his dynasty thrived and that his name would be remembered through the rest of time.
With her help, Alexander would outshine Achilles himself.
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The sun had only just risen when he and Alexander parted ways for the day. They had left the palace and made their way to the theatre together, but when Hephaestion went inside, Alexander would have to remain outside. He would be coming in later with the king and Alexandros of Epirus.
"Try to enjoy yourself today," Hephaestion murmured in Alexander's ear, squeezing his lover's shoulder briefly before turning towards the theatre. "Not everything is quite so dire."
He stayed long enough to watch the smile play on Alexander's lips before making his way into the theatre where the others were waiting for him. Alexander's Companions had been assigned to one of the wings of the theatre; the prince's right flank. From where he sat, Hephaestion had a clear view of the seats that were meant for the royal family. Cleopatra and Eurydike were already there, both looking radiant in the early morning light. Even from where he sat, Hephaestion could see that there was something bothering Eurydike. There was a tension about her that Cleopatra didn't seem to share. But as she was away from her young children for the first time such things were understandable.
"So here you are," Perdiccas laughed as he dropped down into the empty seat next to Hephaestion. "I am quite amazed. I would have wagered that we would need to forcibly separate you and Alexander."
Glowering briefly, Hephaestion snatched Perdiccas' wineskin from him and took a healthy swallow, grinning as the other man squawked in protest. Hephaestion was grateful that the wine was watered because he would have been lightheaded already had it been. And it was too early for him to be drinking that much. The heat would only grow and the wine would make things worse. He wanted to be aware of everything going on. He did not think he would be likely to see anything like it again in his life.
Slowly the theatre began to fill up, dignitaries and the upper echelon of the Macedonian court filing in. There were so many of them, more than Hephaestion had seen in one place since he was a boy in Athens. When he was young his father had taken him to hear the orators speak on a few occasions. Alexander had been jealous when he'd learned that he had heard Demosthenes give a proper speech. It had always irked Alexander that the only speech he had ever seen Demosthenes give was a stilted and stumbling one that the man had not even completed.
"Does anyone else think it could be a bit dangerous for the king to put himself on par with the gods?" Peucestas said to no one in particular.
"He is from the line of Heracles and Heracles was made a god," Leonnatus pointed out. "It could simply be him acknowledging his heritage."
"Greece will not see it that way," Hephaestion said quietly. "Athens in particular will see only that the king thinks himself a god. I cannot help but imagine what vile things Demosthenes will spew forth when he learns of this."
Seleucus chuckled darkly. "He will spew forth vile things regardless. The man is poison."
"But poison with a forked tongue and a sharp mind. That can be far more deadly."
"You would know," Perdiccas snorted. "I would hate to be on the wrong side of you in a fight, be it with words or with fists."
"It is hardly my fault your mind is led about by your cock," Hephaestion taunted to the amusement of the others, even Perdiccas.
Shaking his head in amusement, Leonnatus draped an arm over Hephaestion's shoulders. "Perhaps we should send you on ahead to the Persian royal court. You could talk circles around the lot of them and have them so confused that the barbarians will have no idea which way is up and will be fodder for the phalanx."
Perdiccas rolled his eyes. "Except that he speaks not a word of Persian and could just as likely end up stuck on a spit. I certainly do not fancy being the one to tell Alexander that the Persians have decided to keep Hephaestion."
"They would be more likely to lock him in the harem than anything else," Seleucus laughed, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically in a vague impersonation of a harem girl.
Before Hephaestion had a chance to retaliate, trumpeters sounded the arrival of the first of the twelve statues of the Olympian gods. The statues were finely crafted of flawless marble, the price of which Hephaestion did not even want to contemplate. All of the statues were painted brilliant colours, looking nearly lifelike in the early morning sun, and dressed in clothes far finer than anything he had ever owned. Shimmering gold fabrics, deep reds and purples, even the fashion on their feet were created out of real leather and not the simple paint that was found on most statues.
Last was the most anticipated statue of them all; the one of King Philip himself. Had one not been raised with a knowledge of the Greek gods it would be easy to assume that the statue was one of the gods. There was no difference in the craftsmanship; it was just as impressive as the rest of the statues. Around him he hears whistles, though whether of approval or shock he cannot quite make out.
The statue of the king had only just been set upon his pedestal when the man himself stepped into the theatre, arms outstretched and a broad smile on his face. All of Macedon was on its feet, cheering for her king, while the Greeks mumble among themselves. Nothing like it has been seen before in the memory of anyone seated within the theatre.
Hephaestion did not see the second figure until the man stood before Philip. Like the rest he was not sure what was happening until the king began to slump to the ground. The loud scream that drowned out all others in the theatre had Hephaestion rushing forward before the others can react. Never before had he ever heard Alexander's shout filled with such terror and feared what it meant.
Shoving his way through the chaotic crowd, Hephaestion was nearly tripped up more than once by people rushing about frantically. The Royal Guard was already at the front of the theatre and had surrounded Philip's body. Through the gaps between their legs he could occasionally make out Alexander's bright hair, bent over what he assumed was the king's body.
There was no mistaking the blood staining the ground.
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"I want you to know," Alexandros said as they watched King Philip walk alone down the tunnel that lead into the theatre, "that I had not knowledge of what my sister had planned when she sent the men here to kill your friend. All of her communications were supposed to be given to me first, but she had bribed someone to sneak it out."
Alexander glanced towards his uncle, now brother-in-law, seeing right away the sincerity in his eyes. He could not think of the necessary words to say and settled in the end for inclining his head briefly.
"I had a chance to speak with your friend yesterday during the festivities. Even with all he has been through he is a good man. It would have haunted me forever had I had my negligence lead to his death," Alexandros continued. When he smiled a moment later, there was a macabre quality to the expression. "I do not doubt that you would have laid waste to all of Epirus had they killed him."
"Love my sister, honour her as she deserves, and do not take up arms against my father or me and I will never have any reason to take up arms against you," Alexander said with all seriousness. He then grinned at the older man. "Keeping the northern tribes in line while we are in Asia also would not go amiss. It would be a great shame to be forced to return here to deal with them while we are fighting Darius."
Alexandros laughed loudly. "I would not dare call Achilles back from battle. My life is worth more to me than that."
A sudden scream went up and before Alexander had even fully turned he saw his father begin to collapse. The king's falling body revealed a second man standing just beyond the tunnel: Pausanias. For an endless second Pausanias held his eyes, his grin feral, and then he was running.
"FATHER!" Alexander screamed as he sprinted down the tunnel.
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Demosthenes stood at his window overlooking the small courtyard below. He stretched his arms high above his head, a wide smile on his face. If it had not happened already, it would be soon. Philip, that uncouth Macedonian who considered himself a king of mere goatherds, was either already dead or would soon be so. If he had things his way the little princeling would be killed as well, but it was up to the Fates to decide what happened to the boy.
"It will be far more enjoyable if he lives," Demosthenes reminded himself, bringing a hand down to scratch his left armpit. "It will be a great pleasure to see him brought low."
Turning away from the window, Demosthenes immediately went to his writing desk. There were a great many correspondences he had to prepare and it was necessary that each look as though he was caught completely unaware by the events in Macedon. For the time being he could not be known as a conspirator in Philip's death. In due course he would take credit for it. Once the boy was dealt with and Macedon had returned to its backwater ways. Soon enough, Athens would once again be the supreme power in the Hellas and it was Athens, not Macedon, that would throw off the yoke of Persian power in Anatolia.
"I quite like the sound of that," the aging demagogue murmured, reaching for a quill.
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Pumping his legs as hard as he could, Pausanias sprinted through the field and towards the low fence. On the other side of the fence was his escape. A fresh horse and money that would take him and his companion out of Macedon and into Persia. Behind him he could hear the sound of approaching feet and risked a glance over his shoulder to see how far of a start he had. Even as he was doing so it was a foolish thing to do.
His right foot caught on a large root and he stumbled. Before he could catch himself he tumbled to the ground. He scrambled forward, trying to drag himself back up, but there was nothing for it.
Just before he felt the first spearpoint stab into his back, Pausanias saw a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. His life was finished, and he knew it, so with the remainder of his strength he reached out and closed his fingers about the ring.
