Persians, Hephaistion decided, must be born color-blind. There was no other way of accounting for the garish display of wrapping paper, streamers and party favors the palace eunuchs had set out for the little prince's first birthday.

The custom struck him as absurd, as did so many other Persian customs, but Alexandros had embraced the idea of celebrating one's birthday, mostly because it was yet another excuse for him to receive gifts and adulation.

In the last month, the royal nursery had become quite the busy place. Alexandros mercifully had not called Roxane back from Susa, though that did not keep him from performing his conjugal duties in other areas. Stateira had lately given birth to a son, at which time Hephaistion realized that his lover's offspring were going to suffer the same treatment as his lover's colonies in that they were all going to share the same name.

Hephaistion, who always resisted the party favors Alexandros tried to foist on him, recoiled at the sight of their son in a gilded pink party hat in the conical Persian fashion. Bagoas, who had obviously been stationed at the door to welcome guests, tried to plop a similar horror on him as he entered the room. Hephaistion did not know how he had managed it, but the little tart had recently come back from India, as limber and catty as ever.

Pushing the tasteless sun-yellow party favor aside, he leaned in and said, "If you so much as touch me with that thing, I'll rip off that spangled loincloth of yours and strangle you with it."

Bagoas simply smirked and did not say anything. He did not need to. Beyond the doorway Hephaistion saw Alexandros and the other Makedonian generals decked out in party array. Oh, no, is that one of the little fruitcake's scarves Perdikkas is wearing? His own sober attire was, of course, unsuitable for the occasion, but he had never been one for wearing Persian fashions.

Catching his eye, Alexandros descended on him, crowing, "The lovely mother is here! Ah, Phai, you look so serious! Put on one of these and join us." Alexandros promptly plunked a bright green party hat on his head and tugged him over to the couches, where the guest of honor was currently being bounced up and down on Ptolemaios' lap.

Hephaistion took in his lover's garish Persian ensemble; he could only wonder how watered the wine was, and how cooked Alexandros planned on getting.

"Oh, do give him up, Ptolemaios." Kassandros slithered over to drape an arm around Hephaistion's shoulder. True to his rigid Makedonian sensibilities, the son of Antipatros wore plain dark wool banded with gold, although to curry favor with Alexandros he had donned a lavender party hat. "The baby ought to be sitting on his mother's lovely thighs."

"Screw you," muttered Hephaistion. It had taken him six months of intense training to get his body back to the lean hardness it had had before the pregnancy, and three more to where he could have sex without obsessing over his sutures or imagined stretch marks. If he had to endure one more remark about his thighs, he was going to kill somebody.

"Darling, would you?" Kassandros pouted. "You're so hot when you're angry and I'm just dying to hear you call out nai, oh Theos, nai in the heat of passion."

"Why haven't you crawled back to Makedon yet?"

"Because I'm having far too much fun here."

Had they been outside, Hephaistion would have broken his nose for him. Instead, he shrugged off Kassandros' arm and dourly settled himself on the couch next to Ptolemaios. On his other side was Stateira, holding the month-old Alexandros Darius Kyros Herakles on her lap; the prince wore a bright blue party hat and looked thoroughly bewildered. Eunuchs hovered about, serving drinks and sweetmeats.

Little prince Akhilles was quite the crawler, and Alexandros could not resist demonstrating to the guests how quick and adept his son was. "In no time he'll be walking, and then he'll be founding cities and conquering unsuspecting peoples, just like Daddy."

This was, of course, the cue for the generals and other guests to heap praise upon Alexandros, at which he beamed. Hephaistion wondered if they knew how utterly horny Alexandros got at such moments. If they keep this up, they're going to need a second olive crown just for his hard-on.

From a side door, two eunuchs wheeled in the largest pastry Hephaistion had ever seen, topped by a single candle. He had been told there would be a birthday feast and a special confection prepared for the prince, who was still eating mashed barley and peas and could not possibly enjoy sweets; he had not been told that the pastry would arrive with a replica of an Olympic torch thrust into its center.

Alexandros got up and, to Hephaistion's bewilderment, blew out the candle. "A birthday wish for Daddy's little prince," he said. Stateira and the other Persians applauded while the Makedonians, clearly not knowing what to do, took their cue from them.

"Um, what did you wish for?" asked Nearchus.

Settling back on the couch, Alexandros lifted his son onto his lap. "Oh, when Daddy's little Akhilles grows up he's going to have a big, brave loyal army and they're going to go all the way across the Parampisos mountains and into India and they won't stop until they reach the Outer Ocean. Now doesn't that sound like something exciting?"

At this point, the generals were practically falling all over themselves to agree.

"Oh, yes," breathed Perdikkas. "What a fine ambition!" His sentiments were promptly echoed by every other Makedonian in the room save Kassandros, who had not been present in India and thus considered himself exempt from the obligatory guilt-trip.

While the eunuchs took the pastry away to be sliced, Alexandros declared that it was time for the unwrapping of the gifts. Hephaistion knew by the shape of the first package that it was a scroll and that it had mostly likely come from Ptolemaios. Tearing open the garish paper, Alexandros cooed over the gift as if it was meant for him. "Oh, look!" he exclaimed, waving the scroll under his son's nose. "It's another Lysis book from Uncle Ptolemaios and Auntie Thaïs! You love those, don't you?"

Hephaistion picked up the scroll and unrolled it enough to see the title. Of course, he and Alexandros were well acquainted with the adult Lysis series and had just acquired the latest title, Lysis and Alexias Do Corinth.

"Dada," gurgled Akhilles. So far it was the only word the baby knew, and he said it no less than fifty times a day, but every time he uttered those magic words Alexandros was happier than Bagoas with a new pot of kohl.

As far as Hephaistion knew, Akhilles never said mama, but then he never spent enough time in the royal nursery to influence his son's vocabulary. He was not about to remind anyone that he had spent four humiliating months wearing a woman's maternity frock, and was content to remain one of the toddler's many doting uncles.

"Why don't we see what your mother sent?" asked Leonnatus.

The servants brought over a handsome black-figure amphora and unfastened the lid. Alexandros carefully reached in and drew out a baby milk snake. "Aw, isn't this one precious?"

Stateira gave a little shriek that was echoed by most of the eunuchs. Quickly handing her baby off to its wet nurse, Stateira drew up her knees. She looked ready to bolt.

"Oh, but it's completely harmless, and so cute!" exclaimed Alexandros. "And look at the darling My First Dionysian Rite kit Mother sent with it. Isn't this little fawn skin to die for?"

Afterward, in the field of rubbish, Hephaistion sat on one of the couches with the toddler on his lap. Akhilles was cranky with exhaustion and the wet nurse was waiting to take him back to the nursery. His party hat had disappeared somewhere, as had the snake. Hephaistion warily scanned the piles of torn wrapping paper, crumpled ribbon and discarded party favors for any suspicious movement. Alexandros did not appear concerned.

"You know," Alexandros said softly, "there's one thing our darling son needs that he didn't get today."

"A bath?" The nurse had allowed the prince to have a taste of the birthday confection, and Akhilles had ended up with frosting all over his lower face and bib. Hephaistion tried his best to wipe him clean with the end of Perdikkas' discarded scarf, but did not seem to be making much progress.

"No, our precious little Akhilles needs a Patroklos."

The meaningful look Alexandros gave him told the rest of the story. Oh no, not again. Hephaistion at once demurred. "But darling, Akhilles and Patroklos aren't supposed to be brothers. That would look rather strange."

"Oh, not at all," said Alexandros, smiling. "Alexandros Patroklos. I love the sound of that, and you know how lovely you look when you're pregnant."

Think fast, you idiot, or he'll have Kalanus in here faster than a Thracian can drain the cup of Herakles. "Yes," he replied, "and completely unable to get out of bed or have sex. Now how can I possibly do the logistics for your upcoming campaign to Arabia if I'm constantly bent over the privy?" A thought suddenly came to him, so utterly brilliant he was amazed he had not considered it before. "Do you know who would look absolutely stunning in a maternity frock?"

"More stunning than you?"

"Oh, yes," cooed Hephaistion, "that little fruitcake of yours. You know, I bet he's always wanted to have sons; it would be so cruel to deny him this opportunity." Yes, let's see how the eunuch enjoys swollen ankles and morning sickness for a change.

Despite his obvious surprise, Alexandros looked intrigued. "Bagoas? Are you sure?"

Hephaistion knew he had his lover right where he wanted him. "Xandros, darling, would I ever lie to you about such a thing?"