The whole thing was a nightmarish blur, Alexandros putting on the Mitra and going out to greet the troops in typical drama queen fashion, a beatific smile plastered on his face and his arms outstretched to embrace the adoring masses in the courtyard below; he was so caught up in the moment that he nearly forgot to show them the infant. At least some sense of dignity prevented the king of Makedon and Greece, Great King of Persia and Pharoah of Egypt from making baby talk in front of his Makedonian veterans as he held aloft little Alexandros Philippos Akhilles Herakles Olympias Aniketos.
Hephaistion was carefully lifted onto a litter and carried out to greet the troops, where he gave a nervous little wave and wholeheartedly wished the earth would open up and swallow him. Alexandros, whose sense of theatre was no doubt disrupted by his lover's reticence, immediately seized Hephaistion's right arm and raised it, chanting a paean of encouragement to the men as if proclaiming an Olympic champion. All that was missing was the olive wreath.
That came later, a golden olive crown and a jar of the specially pressed olive oil given to Panathenaic champions. Save this, love, and we'll find some private use for it, said the accompanying note.
He recognized Alexandros' near-incomprehensible handwriting and knew from years of similar gifts exactly what his lover meant by it. They had not been intimate since the baby quickened, and he dreaded the day his sutures healed enough to make sex possible.
Whenever he went to the gymnasium to strip down and try to get back in shape, he was confronted by the horrible reality of his childbearing. Scars in battle were one thing, and there was not a man on the sands who did not have several, but the last thing he needed was to have the other Companions snickering over his abdominal scar and stretch marks.
Feeling miserable, Hephaistion returned to his chambers, wolfed down an entire tray of sweetmeats and sulked. Of course Alexandros would want those figures for his upcoming campaign in Arabia, but he simply could not concentrate on logistics at a time like this. Nor could he concentrate with the Queen Mother constantly writing—as she usually did—to complain.
After an hour, he stormed out of his chambers to find Kalanus, only to be informed he had to wait until the old man had finished his daily meditations. He spent the time pacing back and forth in the corridor, anxiously watching the door. I'll bet he's taking a nap in there. If he doesn't come out soon, I'm going to knock this door down and wring his blasted neck.
Once Kalanus let him in, Hephaistion slammed the door shut and rounded on him. "You got me into this mess, now help me get out of it."
The elderly sage quietly pressed the tips of his fingers together in what was obviously supposed to be some sort of mystic gesture. "Actually, it was Alexandros who got you into this situation. I merely assisted."
"And because of your assistance, I can't squeeze back into my bloody armor and I have these…these marks!"
Kalanus smiled. "Ah, yes," he mused. "I believe the harem ladies know all manner of tricks for getting rid of those."
"I am not letting those harpies see me like this!"
"Well, it is your choice."
Hephaistion felt tears welling up in his eyes. "You're horrid!" And then he groaned. "Ah, you insufferable old stick, you've turned me into a woman! A proper Makedonian warrior doesn't carry on like this."
At that, Kalanus' grin only broadened. "Oh, but I have read this Iliad of which Alexandros is so fond and that is all Akhilles does, sobbing and carrying on. If he is not getting angry and killing people, he is bawling like an infant. You should not be so unhappy. I did help you with the breastfeeding matter, no?"
Seeing he was getting nowhere, Hephaistion left in a huff. You little jerk, he thought. If my cock falls off because of this, I'm going to kill you, no matter how much Alexandros likes you.
When Alexandros visited him that night with his usual sprightly step and a suggestion that they rub oil over each other and play naked kottabos, Hephaistion burst into tears. "Oh, I can't possibly!" he sniffed. Oh, crap, it's starting again! Stop, you idiot! Think manly thoughts! Think of the glorious slaughter at TyreGaza and Thebes, and of interrogating that insufferable git Philotas for plotting against your boyfriend! You were so butch doing that, remember?
"What's the matter, darling?" asked Alexandros. "Oh, by the way, did you like that new robe I sent you, the one with the hot tiger print? I believe Porus sent it."
If anything, this made Hephaistion sob even harder. "Oh, Xandros, I'm so fat, I can't fit into it! If my thighs defeat anybody now, it'll be because I sat on them!"
"You look just fine to me—very hot, in fact. Did somebody say something to you?"
Half a dozen names flitted through Hephaistion's head; he managed to narrow it down to the two worst offenders. "Roxane's been so catty with me and that horrid little catamite, too! You know I just can't concentrate on all these reports with them whispering and making fun of my stretch marks!"
Alexandros patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think. Who would dare say such things about the mother of my royal heir? Did I not send announcements all over my empire and a special envoy to Siwah to make you a god for sharing my divinity in this way? Granted, they came back saying they would declare you a goddess, but that's nothing, really! At the last komos, Perdikkas wore the most delightful Artemis costume, and—"
"Oh, I must have missed that party due to my delicate condition, or don't you remember?" At that moment, he would have liked to add a you bastard, but the last person to have peppered an outburst with that particular epithet had been Kleitos. "You don't know how dreadful those Persian harpies can be! Drypetis won't stop laughing at me and the rest of them—ah, it's no use!" All of which was true, of course, but Hephaistion felt catty enough to embellish and put a little more effort into his bawling.
A week later, he was gratified to find the Baktrian bitch had been packed off to Susa, and Drypetis had been persuaded to pay a very long visit to her grandmother.
As for the eunuch, he was still slithering around the court; while Alexandros was more than happy to find some excuse to be rid of Roxane, Bagoas was entirely another matter. But where to have Alexandros send him? The Gedrosian desert was a tempting possibility, though in the end Hephaistion settled on Alexandria-Bucephala. Yes, sixty days of steady downpour on the Indian frontier ought to do wonders for that insufferable little fruitcake's complexion, if he could just get Alexandros in the right mood.
Hephaistion shut the door, went before the mirror and practiced the art of seductive pouting. Then he put on his hottest robe, daubed on some kohl and went in search of his lover.
He found Alexandros in the royal nursery with their three-month old son on his knee, reading to him from Ptolemaios' scroll. "'Now all the other little Athenian boys made fun of Lysis because he had no mother. Sokrates, who the adults thought was very annoying, gave him very sound advice, and instructed him to reply that he didn't need a mother when he had two strong, handsome daddies to teach him how to fight and be a model citizen.'"
For his part, the baby made gurgling sounds which Alexandros took for interest. Strangely, Hephaistion felt very little attachment to the infant and could not fathom why. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the baby had spent the first two trimesters making him violently nauseous and the third kicking him day and night.
"Now that's all for today," said Alexandros, his voice hovering dangerously close on the precipice of baby-talk. "Tomorrow we'll finish the rest, when Lysis grows up and meets his hot boyfriend Alexias and they run off and join the Athenian navy. And if there's time I'll read you a passage from the Iliad about how the mighty Akhilles made Hektor eat the dust behind his chariot. Won't that be exciting?"
Hephaistion leaned suggestively against the doorjamb as Alexandros handed the baby off to the waiting wet nurse. For the sake of propriety, he kissed their son good-night while trying not to groan at the way Alexandros wiggled his fingers at the infant and made cooing noises.
As soon as the door was closed, he gave an inward sigh of relief and let his silk robe slip off his shoulders just so. "Xandros, darling?" he pouted. "I have a teensy widdle favor to ask you."