Ptolemy was usually one of the first to rise in the morning suns, but as he entered the tent to dine on some figs for breakfast he was greeted by Alexander and some of the foot soldiers. They delighted in the company of their king and they fought over each other to joke with him or sit near him. Ptolemy had to laugh at the happy smile on Alexander's face to be in such high regard with these men.
"Health to you Ptolemy, won't you join us," Alexander asked him merrily. His companion relented and a seat was reluctantly made for him beside the King.
"I must confess Alexander, I did not expect to see you rise so early today. I was under the impression you would be otherwise engaged," he teased in reference to his absence at supper with the rest of the generals last night. He and Hephaestion had never shown and they had very little doubt that they were indeed together and probably not concerned with supper. The rest of the men are quiet as they look to Alexander.
"Well Ptolemy, it is quiet easy to lose track of time when wandering the Elysian Fields. What to you is morning, to me is night," he smirked and took a gulp of his sweet wine. Ptolemy laugh heartily, ever impressed by Alexander's wit and good nature. His men roared with laughter and chided Ptolemy in good humour.
"Is it true, Alexander?"
All present turned to look at the young soldier who had spoken. No more than sixteen but a good fighter.
"General Amyntor is your erastes?"
He said it in a tone of reverence where most would say it with scorn. It surprised Alexander to hear it said that way. It was as though the boy was sitting at his mother's skirts asking for a story. The man beside him pinched his ear in reprimand but Alexander asked him to release him.
"My King," Ptolemy interrupted the carry on. "We must see to the demands of the morning."
Alexander nodded and finished his wine and the rest of the men followed suit as they clambered from the benches. The King hugged them each in turn which although not strange to Ptolemy, it did seem unnecessary. He left the young boy until last, no doubt to show that their was no offence made. Ptolemy held the tent curtain for the rest of the men, watching Alexander with one eye.
"What is your name?"
"Anatolios," he said quietly.
Ptolemy turned to see Alexander had placed both hands on the boys shoulders.
"I should like you to join me for supper this evening Anatolios," he said.
The boy was evidently stunned and stammered his thanks to the king.
"Very good, I shall send a page for you when it is being served."
Ptolemy almost laughed when the boy left the tent on unsteady legs.
"You know he'll even be telling the serving girls, Alexander. What has brought this on?"
"I see something pure in him, Ptolemy. Something I recognised. It feels, familiar, safe in a way."
"You see yourself," Ptolemy asks as they leave the tent and squint in the morning light.
The King laughs heartily.
"Oh Ptolemy, you know there is no purity in me. No, I believe I see Hephaestion.
Ptolemy stops in his tracks for a moment.
"You wish to take him as an erastes," his tone conveys his shock. The same expression on Alexander's face.
"No, Ptolemy. I don't. I simply wish for someone who cares to listen when I speak of my true erastes."
His tone is clipped and wounded and Ptolemy does not wish to offend him further.
"Your men adore you Alexander," he says as he strokes his ego. "They fought to be near you this morning. I'm sure there are a great many who would love to hear of your happiness. Admittedly, your generals have failed you in this way."
It seems to calm him and they begin to discuss the business of the day with no resentment between them. He leaves Alexander with the other generals and makes his way to the royal tent. He makes his way inside as quietly as possible. The page boys look concerned at his entrance but seeing his cloak and pin they do not turn him away.
He stands by the large bed and watches the sleeping Hephaestion. Sweet, beautiful, strong and intelligent Hephaestion. If he were only but one of a list he would not be half as envied, hated or excluded. Should he be beautiful but idiotic the men would understand the King's lust. If he were intelligent but horrid they would see the King's practicality. If he were strong but ugly they would know of the King's fears. But instead he was as though a gift from the gods with the mindset of a mere mortal.
His face was a though carved from marble and set with Tanzanite eyes. His beautiful dark hair that flowed in waves across the pillow, a stray hair or two gracing his cheeks. Alexander must truly be the son of Zeus to be granted such a gift. He was endlessly loyal, daringly brave and giving of his affection. Not just to Alexander. There had been many a time when Cleitus had pulled the young general into his lap and given him affectionate kisses, stroking his hair and praising his beauty. Hephaestion never became angry or hurtful. He had always laughed and pledged his loyalty to Alexander whilst placating him with a kiss and a smile.
Ptolemy started just then when he heard voices approaching the tent. His first thought was to hide but the pages had seen him. Gently he roused Hephaestion who was too sleepy to be confused by his presence.
"Hephaestion, I didn't mean to rouse you but the duties of your infantry need attending too before the meeting this afternoon."
Ptolemy was thankful this was indeed true and Hephaestion muttered his apologies for having slept in. A moment later Alexander and Cleitus entered the tent and paused, looking to Ptolemy and then Hephaestion who was still fully naked but only half awake.
"I'm sorry Alexander, I'll tend to it now," he said with a yawn as one of the pages stepped forward with a robe for him. The King looked concerned but only Cleitus voiced it.
"There was no need to wake him, Ptolemy."
Ptolemy almost laughed at the way Cleitus favours the King to make up for his past mistakes. It is clear to all that Hephaestion is dear to Cleitus and that jealousy and wine got the better of him at the time but now he had taken every opportunity to be near him. Evidently he was displeased with Ptolemy's presence there.
"My apologies, my King," Ptolemy said with a nod towards Alexander as he leaves the tent; his heart still racing.