UnHeralded Strength, Book I.52

Final chapter of Book I.

Bagoas has a sort of awakening…and Hephaistion's feast day is finally celebrated.


Drawing his dark hair into a long braid, Bagoas drew on and buttoned up his burgundy colored outer jacket, as he searched Iskander's clothing chests for a blanket. An unseasonable chill had come with early evening. Though Iskander lay quiet, indeed he had been asleep for nearly fourteen hours, Bagoas; ever aware of the slightest change drew an indigo colored blanket about him. As he kindled another lamp, he reflected that according to the physician Philip, Iskander had done well with the medical procedure, and fallen into a deep sleep thereafter. That it would be a healing sleep was yet to be discovered, but thus far he had not awakened, or cried out in pain, but slept deeply, seemingly at peace.

Now as he moved about the room was soft with fire light and sweet with the rich scent of frankincense and patchouli, which Bagoas now recognized. Setapas had continued to burn the herbal mixture even though Alexander slept, and had Bagoas hold up to his face and fan the golden smoke toward the sleeping king.

Hephaistion had been in and out of the chamber several times. Each time standing quiet beside Iskander, his gaze tender, full of love. He would sit beside him and gaze upon him. Not once did he touch him, not even the lightest skimming of his fingers upon his hand or face. Bagoas knew it he feared to wake him, feared to bring him back into a world where, perhaps, he would remain helpless. He admitted, Hephaistion knew the heart of the man lying beneath the woolen blanket. He knew him as though their thoughts were as one. Bagoas acknowledged that now, and too hoped that Iskander did not awaken to anything less than his complete self.

Once, returning from some errand, as he had stood deep in the shadows just beyond the curtained entrance to the chamber heard Hephaistion, who bent over Iskander speaking softly to his sleeping lover. That time he had touched his face, brushing back golden tendrils that lay upon the brow. "Alexander, please come back to me. 'Tis selfish I know…but if you cannot, know that I…that my heart is yours and you take it with you. It is yours forever, Alexander." Moving back into the shadows once more, Bagoas had seen the sheen of tears in the older man's eyes.

Last eve Hephaistion had seemed a man clutching at straws, deeply immersed in allaying his own fears and doubts. It had not seemed odd to Bagoas to be sought in the manner Hephaistion had sought him out. Iskander too had begun to share his more private, deeper thoughts. Indeed, 'twas something he was well used to from his service to Darius. In the Persian court 'twas common for those in power to depend upon and offer their secrets to their saris, for they in their more dependant role owed them all. Often there was no familial alliance, as most saris were taken in war, as tribute or as Bagoas had been, given up by his family into service to the court to seek favor. To him, that long ago day, when he had been taken to the great palace at Babylon, and given over to a life not of his choosing he had left his past behind.

He whispered something, a name…the breath behind it so fleeting, it no longer had purpose. He was that boy who had borne that name no longer, and had not been for many a year. Now, he was the saris, Bagoas, Iskander's Bagoas.

However, to see Iskander lying sweetly calm, his face untouched by pain, deep in a hopeful healing sleep gave Bagoas the greatest pleasure. Settling down upon a thick cushion of bear skins, beside the bed, head in his hands, Bagoas drew in a deep, soul searching breath.

His gaze flew over that of his sleeping lover. He recalled Hephaistion's words of the night previous. He had acknowledged that Iskander did, indeed, love him. Bagoas found himself in a mood of alternating joy and denial of the thought. That Iskander was in love with him, too. Could it be? It was his heart's desire, but…

Perhaps he had not counted on anything beyond his own physical attraction. Not considered that he, too might be loved for something more than, something greater than his beauty. He could see why Iskander loved Hephaistion so. It was so much more than the physical between them, although that was still fully there. It was clear as day. He acknowledged with great pleasure to know that Iskander did love him, but for what? It would never be as with Hephaistion. He knew what he had seen in his eyes, deeply powerful attraction, but he had seen him so with Hephaistion. What he was uncertain of was what more did Iskander loved him for. He was not a warrior as Hephaistion; he had not his physical prowess, personal strength, bravery, not his brilliant mind. And, indeed the man was breathtaking in his intelligence, he and Iskander…to listen to them if one was fortunate enough was awe inspiring. He knew he was not as such, but much, much simpler. He was a simple individual in comparison. Iskander and Hephaistion were as the stars in the heavens, glittering, brilliant, mysterious and truly, forever out of reach.

He bent down wringing out a cloth to draw it across Iskander's face, and throat. He loved to gaze upon him. His physical perfection…he could gaze upon him forever and each time he would find it hard to turn his gaze away.

At least for now, he was his lover. Nothing could-would ever change that. He knew he loved Iskander the way Hephaistion loved Iskander, deeply, before and beyond anything else. That he would never be what Hephaistion was to Iskander was hurt, even now. He was selfish, he wanted to know he possessed Iskander's soul the way he had possessed Hephaistion's.

"'Twill never be, I may dream it, but the gods will not grant such prayers as mine. Only to great men do they grant such dreams." Deeply lost in his thoughts he did not notice anything until he felt the tug on his long braid.

Frowning, he jumped to his feet and swung about. Alexander had half risen from his bed; he was smiling, his eyes, face, entire countenance a glow with joy. "Bagoas!" He was beaming, tears streaming down his glowing face; every nuance about him spoke his joy. "I thought I was dreaming that Eros sat beside me, but I sleep no longer and see resides with me still." Iskander grabbed his hand pulling it toward his heart.

Bagoas began to pull back then he gasped. "Iskander, you…!"

"You are as Helios' a-shine, like the great stars above us those buttons upon your jacket glitter in the lamplight." He wiped away tears that would not cease, as he studied Bagoas. "You love warms me. I feel it all about me. It gave me strength to waken." Forgetting everything Bagoas threw himself at Iskander feathering his face with kisses. Alexander laughed returning the kisses, and caught his hands in his. "Non, do not leave me, stay a little, let me remember, why I cherish, love you so." Bagoas turned his head away, feeling unusually, shy. Iskander's eyes were full of soft emotion as he gazed upon him. "Please, Bagoas…I…" He entreated. They sat quiet a moment their shared thoughts tender.

"Come see, he…oh gods be thanked!" Finally Iskander had released Bagoas' hands, and allowed him to give out the word. He had barely reached the curtained entrance to Iskander's private chamber when he began shouting of this great, good fortune. Those who had waited, the pages, guards, others took up the cry with joy. Philip who had been dozing roused himself hearing the shouting, and at first misunderstanding cried out with a loud shout of grief. Then, seeing the faces of those about him, rushed to his patient's bedside eager to see the miracle for himself.

"I am cured!" Alexander announced when he saw the great smile of relief on the older man's face. "Your wisdom and care once again have brought me through!"

"You…see?"

"I see! I see as though I have never closed my eyes at all! I see you have not changed that robe in at least a fortnight, for I recall it last a week ago and it looked much the same." Philip laughed, but pushed his patient down as he ran his skilled hands across his face, checking his pulse, eyes, and the wound site. His happiness gave him patience for his patient was aflame with the desire to rise and seek out every man in the camp and hug him in his joy. He had a time calming the young King down.

Bagoas was sitting beside the King while Philip examined him heard Hephaistion's voice just beyond the chamber. He saw Iskander's head go up, his beautiful eyes widen as fresh tears filled them, as he uttered Hephaistion's name. He rose quickly, but with great care that Iskander not know the true reason, gave some pretext to seek some need filled for him and left the room as Hephaistion entered. He knew the scene to be enacted was not for him to witness, nor for any save the gods to see. As he walked away his own tears fell as he heard the undeniable joy in each man's voice. He felt no sadness, but rather a lightening and a rush of such joy as he had never known before. For he knew he had heard that same undeniable utterance of joy in Iskander's voice when he had first wakened and seen him. Perhaps he could not be as Hephaistion to Iskander, but he knew now he given a gift that only Hephaistion had ever known before.

Iskander had told him, as they had sat together upon his waking, before Bagoas had called out the miracle of his healing that for all his happiness to have his sight back, he had one desire, and that was to see those whom he loved best. Bagoas had begun to rise, saying he would seek Lord Hephaistion. Iskander had pulled him back down and looking deeply into his eyes, told him that he loved both he and Hephaistion. His desire, love for them, was not to fulfill what was missing in him, but for what was so evident within each of them.


Four days later.

The great tent shimmered with firelight, as beyond its confines Artemis lit the countryside with a near unearthly radiance. Not to be outdone, Nyx herself had spread wide her cloak showing a celestial brilliance beyond any man could imagine. Laughter, voices raised in good conversation, the scent of food and wine, music – all good and joyful things flowed out into the warm night as a vast cornucopia of pleasure and good will. Hephaistion's feast day celebration was being held at last. Alexander, glowing with health and happiness, resplendent in the red chiton with the prancing gold lions reclined upon the couch he shared with Hephaistion. Hephaistion, his handsome face alight with happy expectation, sat beside his beloved clad in silver trimmed violet that brought out his matchless eyes.

Two days previous, Setapas had requested a favor of the King, and he had granted it. He knew little beyond that, save that Bagoas' performance was not to be as he had originally asked. Setapas had grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his smooth voice rich with mystery said only that it would be a dance that would make bring he and Hephaistion special joy. So he had agreed. How could he not? There was nothing in the days since he had awakened, his sight regained, his head no longer paining him that could bring Alexander's spirits down. He rode a heady tide of joy and happiness.

So, with impatience, he and Hephaistion waited, then sat up smartly when a long line of Nubians, Philotas' Nubians entered the tent, each man holding a tall drum and formed up along the back of the couches. Their noble figures made taller still by great feathered headdresses which shone with brilliance color in the bright fire light. Their dark oiled skins burnished like Nyx herself and their deep laughter filled the great recesses of the tent as they began a chant as the drums began.

Amid a great chorus of whooping shouts came a dark figure, spear in hand. It was cloaked and spun around in a series of twirls amid a chorus of calls from the Nubians. Those who had been among the hunters recognized the Nubians' lion hunting song. Against the high voiced chants, the figure stopped and the drums stopped, as slowly, into the tent creeping stealthily came two great tawny figures pawing the ground. They encircled him, and he pounded the earth with his feet flinging his spear toward them. The lions did not flee instead they threatened him, rushing him, raising great golden clawed paws in his face, then sank back down only to rise again, threatening the man who dared come into their midst, threaten their sovereignty. Then the drums exploded with a force so powerful it shook the tent. Alexander grinned and shook himself as he clutched Hephaistion's arm. They grinned at one another like boys knowing something exciting was about to happen.

A series of figures flew forward as the drums resounded, surging in power surrounding the man. He threw off his cloak…it was Karanos, Krateros son. He was surrounded by other pages, Kleon, Menander…and the taller, snow haired Gorgios whom Hephaistion grinned at, growling low in seductive tones at the sight of him, his golden skin rippling with muscles glowing in the warm light. He had wondered where his young companion had disappeared to so often these last few days.

Alexander shouted exclaiming aloud in his excitement. The larger of the lions rushed the golden haired man who stood strongly against it, but he was beat back time and again. One of the lion stalked him relentlessly. It's movements as quicksilver, always beyond his reach. Gorgios, portraying Hephaistion flew forward with a great cry flinging his spear at it only to see it tossed away as though a toy. The second lion gained him knocking him down with its great paws. Kleon and Karanos flew to aid him, but were beaten back by the paired strength of the great beasts. Kleon as though with Hermes winged sandals flew forward, battling first one great lion, then the next heedless of his own danger to protect his companions. His legs moved gracefully and his strong arms drove in a great thrust to the first lion wounding it so that it roared with terrifying screams. His strength and courage warmed his companions who called out to him urging him on as he fought these ungodly foe.

Alexander gripping Hephaistion's arm hard cried out when the hunters fell back, again and again. "But where is Bagoas, I do not see him, nor Setapas!" Hephaistion grinned shaking his head. He had an idea, but would say nothing.

Karanos, whom Alexander now knew was portraying himself, in one great leap flew upright to meet his foe who too rose now fully upon its feet. It's long, lithe muscular body pounded against him. It was Bagoas, and he danced as Alexander had never seen him dance before. He had become the lion, spitting divine fire from his eyes and mouth, each movement as though he now was home to the lion god who inhabited him. He flew about the room, the golden mane of the lion's pelt shook as he made its head to growl, it's great and powerful paws to shake the earth as it ran beside its companion bringing death, destruction to the men who would tame them. The spear flew forward drawing blood, the lions fought it, they struggled together, man and unearthly beast until neither knew where the one began or ended. On the dance went, every man present reliving the final hunt, the desperate fury of prey and hunters until at least with a great series of cries that resounded against the crashing, pounding drums the lions succumbed lying defeated and bleeding at the feet of the three great warriors who had defeated them.

A loud tumult of exclaim rose within the tent as a hundred voices were raised together acclaiming the dance and its honor. Flowers were thrown upon the performers, cries of joy, exclaimed into the heavens and echoed throughout and onto the grounds beyond them. Though the tent was packed full, men from all over the camp and city spilled out onto the surrounding ground feasting and listening to the music of the dance as well. The feast was a thing they would speak of again and again, regaling their families with the night they saw the great Iskander and his beautiful, bold companion, Hephaistion honored.

Krateros rose, his long arms wrapping his panting son to him, shouting with joy. He likewise pulled the sweating, grinning Kleon into his hug, for the youth had done him honor too, by portraying him so fiercely. His house had been given a great honor as Karanos had depicted the King himself. Shouting joyously, he toasted the youth, the King, Hephaistion and all present.

Finally, Bagoas throwing off his lion skin stood beside Setapas who rose from beneath the other golden pelt to stand before the guests of honor. Alexander rose, delight making his eyes shine greater than the brightest star in the sky. Hephaistion joined him and they drank to both men. Alexander drew Bagoas forward by the hand and with a cry of joy held it aloft. "This is the creator of our entertainment." Bagoas stood, panting hard from the exertion of the dance, his heart pounding with the pleasure he had brought to those he loved. However, his side burned, and blood still flowed, but he would speak nothing of it, nor the arrow that had shot out as though from the dark night itself to lay him low. Non, let them think 'twas part of the act. Later, later there was time enough to wonder at the act, for now, he would do nothing to prevent or mar this celebration.

He and Setapas accepted Hephaistion and the King's congratulations. Setapas, laughing pulled away from his well wishers on some mysterious errand which caused the King to hint at a mystery to come, but would speak nothing more as he lead toast after toast in Hephaistion's honor and the dancers.

Karanos, full of wine and excitement told of Bagoas' plan three days ago, just after the King had risen from his bed, sight restored, to honor the King, Hephaistion, Krateros and the other brave hunters. It had become immediately a thing others wished to participate in. Gorgios whom Bagoas had never seen except in passing had approached him shyly asking if he too might take part. He wished to honor Hephaistion, his erastes. Studying the beautiful silver haired youth, whom it was discovered had once sung in the boy's chorus on Delos to honor Apollo had been given the role of portraying Hephaistion.

When he and Bagoas had approached Iskander and his beloved Companion, Hephaistion had taken the beautiful Gorgios into his arms and kissed him soundly. Alexander had laughed, clearly delighted and then with a grin had kissed the young man himself. Both he and Bagoas, crowned with rose garlands, their youthful bodies bare save simple linen kilts sat beside their lovers, who clearly proud of them kept them at their side.

Setapas returned, the great cat Mau - a small lion upon his shoulder peered out among those surrounding it, it's eyes glittering like jewels - it's myterious presence reminding all present of the living god within their midst. It meowed once and narrowed it's eyes as they approached Alexander. Regally it acknowledged him, then jumped from its perch to disappear a moment only to be found again, seated upon the cast off lion pelts at his feet where it reclined in majesty its sleek head up and eyes bright with secret knowledge.

Amid great applause, his voice full of laughter Setapas acknowledged the antics of his cat were not part of the evenings entertainment, and bowed low before the king to presented him a small box and scroll. Taking the small pale alabaster box up Alexander kissed it and turned to Hephaistion. "I honor you and celebrate the day the gods gave you into our loving care." Clearly overcome Alexander wiped a tear away as Hephaistion opened the box, and took the ring out holding it up for all to see. He kissed it then kissed Alexander and put it on.

Then Alexander held aloft the scroll calling out in ringing tones. "Those of you who were with me at Siwah know of the love and duty I bear my heavenly father. Ground has broken on a splendid temple at Siwah in his honor. I dedicate it this day in Hephaistion's name, and beside it another temple to stand in honor of all of you, my Hetaroi." He spread his arms out wide as though embracing them all.

End of Book I

***To those of you who were kind and courteous enough to stay with this, apparently controversial story of Alexander, Hephaistion and Bagoas I thank you for your loyalty. Book II will begin in a month or so. I am going back to Hephaistion's and A Soldier's Duty in the meantime.