THE IVORY EROS – CHAPTER 3
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've said it before and I'll say it again: THANK YOU to all of you wonderful people who have taken the time to review this story! I was quite overcome by how much pleasure this story is giving you! Rest assured it will be completed, in reality it already is but it's so long I thought it was more fun to break it down. I hope this next chapter will answer a few questions about why Hephaestion's memory has been taken from him…
SPECIAL NOTE: to Trust No One – I am very well aware you've already written a most excellent story about Hephaestion losing his memory; I hope you won't think I've swiped your idea, its purely a coincidence!
SUMMARY: So Hephaestion is back but without his memory – Alexander thinks he's paid the price for having him back but he's in for a surprise…
Alexander moaned deeply as he sank into the warm water and closed his aching eyes. Never could he remember feeling quite this tired, never had he so longed for the oblivion of sleep, not even after battle, not even after the days and nights in that accursed desert.
Glaucias was, perhaps understandably, reluctant to make a diagnosis. It could be the fever, he suggested; as to whether the memory would return… certainly Hephaestion was capable of remembering what was being said to him, was alert and aware and could learn. Alexander actually found himself feeling sorry for the old quack – after all, he was working in the dark; Alexander was not about to tell him about the more divine aspects of Hephaestion's recovery. He was not absolutely sure he believed in them himself.
He needed time alone to think. Ordering Glaucias to say nothing until told otherwise, he then sent for little lovesick Hylas and gave him strict instructions to sit with Hephaestion until his officer fell asleep, to do what he wanted but ask no questions. "Read something to him…" Alexander said suddenly, "run and fetch my copy of the Iliad from my room, Bagoas knows where it is."
The poor boy smiled radiantly, looking as pleased as if he had been invited to spend a night in the arms of Aphrodite herself; he returned, flushed and slightly breathless, his blue eyes widening as Hephaestion smiled softly at him and patted the space beside him on the bed. "Please come closer," Alexander heard him say, "your warmth is comforting after…"
"I won't be long, Hephaestion," Alexander interrupted, giving him a hard look before going to his bath. He had to think… he had to think…
"Alexander… wake, Alexander…"
The King stirred, mortified to have fallen asleep. The water around him had grown cold. He glanced about him, looking for the source of the voice. A moment later, the gilt haired, ivory skinned boy came into view. "So, Alexander, son of Philip, are you pleased with what you wished for?"
"A high price!" Alexander shook his head bitterly. "You gods have a twisted sense of humour! Robbing Hephaestion of his memory? It was my wish, not his – why punish him like that?"
The boy lowered his eyes. "That was not the price of bringing him back, Alexander. That was merely Hades' price for letting him go. The dead are privy to certain… knowledge… before they drink from the river of forgetfulness. Before he would release him, the underworld god gave him a cup of that magical water to drink. He took only a few sips, I saw to that. But it had done its work." A horrible thought came to Alexander, but he dismissed it, ashamed of his own selfishness. Nevertheless, the boy seemed to pluck it from his mind. "You wonder if he has forgotten his love for you. Do not be ashamed to wonder. He has not forgotten everything… how much he remembers must now be up to him… and perhaps to you too."
"But if that isn't the price – and you won't take my life – what else - ?"
"Don't you know yet? No, it is still early, I see. But you will. The only question remaining is how hard you will make the payment, on yourself, on him… that at least will be up to you." The grey eyed boy glanced tenderly toward the bedchamber. "The answers to both your questions lie there, if you can see them. Yours was the first face he saw when he returned to the upper world. Yours were the first arms to hold him, the first lips to kiss him, the first voice to speak words of comfort. Do you see? No? He needs you, he needs you more than he ever has before. Now do you see?"
Beginning to shiver, Alexander shook his head again and rose from the water. "I can't see anything… I can't think…"
"You are tired. Go to him. I will send Hypnos to you both. Alexander…!" the boy called, as Alexander threw on a robe and began to move away, "you have not told me if you are pleased with what you wished for!"
The gentle words went through Alexander like a catapult bolt. Turning slowly, he looked down into those sparkling eyes, then bent his head, dropped to his knees and raised his hands in supplication. "I, Alexander… offer my deepest, humblest gratitude to the all-powerful gods for restoring to me their most precious gift… Hephaestion… son of Amyntor…" his voice wavered with emotion but he mastered himself. "Tomorrow morning, I shall sacrifice twenty white bulls to Zeus, thirty…"
"Alexander…" the boy's touch sent a strange, tingling sensation through Alexander's skin as he tilted his head up, lowering his own smaller one to meet it. "Your acknowledgement is all we ask for…" Alexander trembled as the small, soft lips once more brushed his own, then he was alone again.
Hylas was bending over Hephaestion when Alexander entered the bedchamber; the page glanced up warily, then whispered, "he's sleeping, Sire… I am happy to sit with him, I promise not to fall asleep…"
"That's all right," Alexander sighed, "get yourself to bed. But before you do, go to my rooms and tell my servants I'll be sleeping here tonight." He smiled wearily as he saw Hylas' gaze lingering anxiously on his master. "I know. Don't worry, the gods will see that he's still here in the morning."
Hylas nodded, chewing his lower lip, still staring at Hephaestion. "Health to you, Sire…"
"Hylas…" Alexander said tiredly, "would you like to kiss him good-night?"
Hylas glanced up, flushing as rosily as Alexander had at his age. His skin was so translucent, his hair such a light gold, he reminded the King oddly of the ivory Eros. Who, in turn, resembled… Alexander watched him closely as he placed a soft kiss on Hephaestion's cheek, then retreated from the room without another word. Then Alexander looked down at Hephaestion, not quite yet sure what any of this meant. Then he pulled back the covers and was about to shed his robe to climb in beside Hephaestion. But then the same strange uncertainty he had had just a moment ago with Hylas resurfaced. Yours were the first arms to hold him, the first lips to kiss him… but would that be enough? And was that all there was left? He did not understand, he still did not understand…
Keeping his robe wrapped about him, he slipped into the bed, very gently drawing Hephaestion into his arms. A small moan escaped him as his lover snuggled close, his limbs curling familiarly about Alexander's through the tangle of bedclothes.
"I won't hear of it, Hephaestion! You don't yet know what you're dealing with! Who you're dealing with - !"
"Was I that unpopular?"
"You… had – have – enemies. You also have friends!"
"And friends who might really be enemies?"
"Hephaestion - !" Alexander stopped pacing and sat down on the bed, glaring at the invalid. "Its out of the question."
"Alexander – may I call you that? In front of anyone - ?"
"Yes, yes, of course…"
"Alexander listen to me. You're right, I know nothing of the people I'm dealing with. But I'm not a child. Whatever this fever did to me it didn't make me a halfwit. Let them come to me, alone or in small groups, you can stay with me while they talk, or have that young Hylas do it, I think I can trust him? Or that other one, the dark one with the lovely eyes, what did you call him, Bagoas? He was kind to me…" Alexander frowned at him but let him go on. "Let them tell me as much as they can, just as you have. I need to hear it, Alexander - already, all you have told me in the last two days is filling that black void, that terrible emptiness… I have memories, already! I have a family, parents, sisters you say, a home, a past! This morning, when I woke, I had so many things to remember, not like when I woke the first time and…"
"But with me it's different! You know you can trust me!"
"Yes, I know I can trust you," Hephaestion agreed slowly, "but I don't know why."
Grunting irritably, Alexander pulled back the bedclothes, took up the bottle of olive oil from the dresser, sniffed it experimentally then reached for a small phial of herbal infusions to mix with it. "One thing hasn't changed," he muttered as he warmed the oil in his hands and lifted one of Hephaestion's legs into his lap, "you're still as stubborn as a mule… and you've still got the legs of a thoroughbred."
Hephaestion winced as Alexander's fingers dug into his muscles. "As long as I can walk on them, I don't care who I stole them from… you were telling me about crossing the Hellespont… what did we do there?"
"Oh, we visited Troy, and you and I – " Alexander stopped suddenly. "Then we and the army made a sacrifice to Achilles and Patroklos. After that…"
"Achilles and Patroklos? Troy – as in the Iliad! Hylas has read me nearly half of it now! He might have finished if I didn't keep interrupting… so much seems to have happened before Achilles goes off and sulks… Hylas said the war had already lasted nearly ten years? I admire Patroklos, standing by him… I hope Achilles appreciated what a good friend he had…"
"He does by the end," Alexander said, by the time it's too late…
"Hylas keeps blushing whenever I ask about those two… am I missing something? Mind you, Hylas blushes whenever I look at him. He's so young to be so far from home…"
"No younger than you and I were when we were pages… to my father…" Alexander concentrated on rubbing hard at Hephaestion's muscular thigh and ignoring the pleasure he gained from doing so.
"Alexander… as Grand Vizier did I have men working under me? A staff of some kind? Did I have papers? I'd like to see them."
"I'll see to it."
"I'd like to see my staff too, if I do have any. And you said I command the cavalry? Could I see some of my men?"
Alexander closed his eyes briefly. "All right, you win. But not alone. If I can't be with you, Hylas, Admetus… or Bagoas. Here… take your robe off and turn over, I'll rub your back."
"Your men must love you, Alexander, if you take this trouble over all of them!"
"You're something of a special case, my love."
Hephaestion turned over onto his front and did not answer.
Of course the news spread faster than Alexander would have liked, despite each group of visitors promising to keep silent until Hephaestion's condition became common knowledge. Hephaestion didn't seem nearly as worried as Alexander was; he seemed to thrive on the company of others as he never had before and once he was allowed his own papers and journals he asked to see the strangest people, some he had once considered beneath his contempt, others he had more openly disliked.
For a while he pestered to be sent Eumenes, for reasons Alexander could not comprehend, but Alexander's secretary was so wary, especially when Alexander insisted on sitting in on the meeting, that he could only babble apologies and excuses. Afterwards, Hephaestion seemed disappointed. "He'll never tell me the truth," he declared, leaning sullenly back into the pillows.
"What truth did you want to hear?" Alexander had asked.
"His truth. Why he disliked me so much."
"Who said that he – " Alexander began, but Hephaestion grinned at him with a touch of his old irony.
"I did. It seems I kept notes… on a lot of things. It also seems as though I rarely forgot a slight…"
Some of these insights into his lover's private world were quite disconcerting. One afternoon, Alexander had returned from a staff briefing to find Hephaestion deep in thought, a pile of letters in front of him. "Come on, its time you took your exercise," Alexander said, drawing back the covers and reaching for the massage oil. "Who are these ones from?"
"Queen Olympias," Hephaestion answered.
"Mother - ?" Alexander had almost dropped the oil all over Hephaestion. "You never told me she wrote to you!"
"I'm sorry, but judging from her letters, perhaps I didn't want you to know… Alexander," he added after a moment, "Who was Cleitos?"
Alexander frowned, beginning to warm Hephaestion's leg muscles. "I'll… explain later. Why?"
"She says it's my fault that he's dead. Did I kill him?"
"No," Alexander replied with a deep sigh, "I did. May the gods forgive me."
"Oh." There was another lengthy pause. "Yes, I see."
"What do you see?"
"Well, she seems more concerned with the unhappiness it caused you than for Cleitos himself."
"That's mother!" Alexander replied wryly. "I'm sorry Hephaestion. Regardless of why you didn't tell me, I'll write to her. She shouldn't be throwing poison darts like that from Macedon!"
"No, don't – look… she's obviously responding to things I've written, so I must have written back… shall I ask my scribe if he kept copies?"
"I'd… rather you didn't."
Amongst the visitors was Drypetis, escorted by Stateira with Bagoas as a translator. As it was, Bagoas was almost unnecessary. Drypetis had entered holding her sister's hand, apparently apprehensive of seeing her husband, but when Hephaestion straightened up, smiling shyly, the princess lifted her diaphanous veil and bowed to him, a radiant smile lighting up her plump, pretty face. "You look well, my Hephaestion," she murmured in Persian. Stateira glanced warily over to Alexander, watching his reaction to her sister's familiarity, but he kept his face neutral. She was his wife, yet how little he knew of her. Did his possible jealousy over Drypetis and Hephaestion trouble her more than the fact of his relationship with him? He stopped worrying about it when Hephaestion responded – in the same language.
"I am… sorry I cannot remember our wedding," the Grand Vizier told her slowly, "but… am sure it was a happy day." Diffidently, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, ignoring the gaping looks and shrugs being exchanged over his head. Alexander suddenly felt a voyeur; memories flooded back of what Hephaestion had told him, that strange evening, of his wedding night. He had never really watched the two of them together but it was already apparent Drypetis was more at ease with her husband than Stateira was with hers. He glanced over to his wife, who lifted her dark eyes slowly, offering him a gentle smile.
"Come, Bagoas," Alexander said, rising abruptly. Stateira glanced towards her own maids, gave an order in soft Persian and they fluttered out like brightly coloured birds. Frowning faintly, Alexander followed them with Bagoas on his heels.
"It has been another long day for you, My King," said the eunuch, "I will draw your bath and ask the cooks to have a light meal brought to your rooms…"
"No, I'll eat in Heph…" Alexander trailed off. "You're right, of course." But he glanced back involuntarily to the room they had just left.
Once Alexander reached his own room, he let Bagoas fuss about him, sinking gratefully into the bath and letting the Persian rub him down. "My Lord… Alexander…" Bagoas began hesitantly, "about Hephaestion…"
"Oh, yes, he says you've been very kind to him these past few months…"
"Alexander, why have you not told him? About… what he… about what he and you… about the fact that he belongs to you! My Lord, you must, or someone else will fill his head with lies!"
"You suspect her? Drypetis?" Alexander demanded.
"N-no, Alexander, I suspect… no-one, yet…"
Yet. Alexander breathed out heavily. Bagoas had hit upon exactly what had been bothering him even before Hephaestion had begun receiving visitors. He was jealous – jealous of the odd charm this new, unknown Hephaestion possessed. He was pestered by ridiculous visions of someone else working their way into his lover's affections and stealing his heart before Alexander could win it back. Alexander himself was charmed by him all over again, though to him this Hephaestion was not as new as all that, but rather a return to how he had been when they were boys, before necessity and experience had hardened him. This Hephaestion laughed joyfully at his soldiers' stupidest jokes, wept quite openly when Alexander read to him of Patroklos' fate. "What a high price to pay for sulking over an insult," he had sighed. "Poor Achilles, how guilty he must have felt for letting him go in his place… I know he chose his fate, but he didn't chose that one for his dearest friend! The gods seem to keep one hand permanently hidden behind their backs!"
What a high price to pay…
"I can't tell him." Alexander stepped from the water and let Bagoas dry him and begin to rub scented lotion into his body. The boy had such delicate, supple hands; normally Alexander took great pleasure in moments such as this, even if it did not lead to lovemaking, but now he could not relax. "He depends on me too much. If I force this on him, how will I know…"
"But if you do not tell him…"
"I'll still have you…" Alexander turned to Bagoas, looked down into his large black eyes. For a second he saw hope there, then Bagoas looked away.
"Will you be sleeping in Hephaestion's room again tonight, My Lord?"
Alexander reached out and stroked Bagoas' long, thick hair. It was time Hephaestion learned to sleep alone – it was time they both did, all over again. Perhaps Hephaestion was quite happy to, but too polite to tell Alexander, though he still seemed troubled by bad dreams he insisted he couldn't remember when he woke. Certainly Alexander never sensed anything like passion in him; they lay side by side or loosely entwined, more like an old familiar married couple than the passionate lovers they had once been. But then since Mieza they had never had the luxury of sleeping together night after night; a night together not spent making love had always been a night wasted, especially to Hephaestion. The first nights after Hephaestion's recovery, holding his beloved close had been all that mattered to Alexander, thoughts of sex had seemed almost obscene. But as time progressed, he was waking in the night, aching with desire – not just lust, he could easily have slipped away to his wives or Bagoas if that was all – but a terrible loneliness. It was Hephaestion's touch he wanted, Hephaestion's body he wanted to caress, Hephaestion's desire he wanted to feel. Just for tonight… he wanted to answer, just for one more night…
"Not tonight, Bagoas… it is time things returned to normal," Alexander said, a great sense of flatness descending over him.
"As to… returning to normal, My King…" Bagoas began, keeping his eyes averted. Alexander knew the use of the title was deliberate. He encouraged the eunuch to speak honestly, knowing how sensitive he was to the mood of the court. "There… is increasing uncertainty."
"Tell me."
Bagoas frowned, knowing Alexander's temper well enough to choose his words with care. "Much of your time is taken up with Hephaestion, as of course is your right, but…"
"Am I being accused of neglecting my duties?" It was nothing he hadn't expected; Ptolemy and the others had been hinting at it for weeks, not always with much subtlety. Much of the day to day military matters had fallen onto Perdiccas, with Peucestas taking on many of Hephaestion's duties regarding Persian affairs. The army had returned shattered and demoralised from India but that was beginning to feel like a distant and troublesome dream, even to Alexander himself. He had to focus on what mattered. There was talk of an Arabian campaign, even one further into Europe. There were matters back in Macedon to be taken care of. Before Hephaestion's death Alexander had already had a sense of loss, of things unravelling for lack of care, but he had put this down to the long desert march, the mass marriages, even the treachery of his childhood friend Harpalos. A period of rest and everything would be as it was.
He had to focus. If he focused, he could push away those nagging doubts that he really no longer… Discipline, that was the key; all his suffering under that sadistic old bastard Leonidas had not been for nothing. He would control his wants and needs as he always had. He would not even visit Hephaestion again tonight. One of the pages could sit up with him. Not Hylas though. Not through the night. Alexander glanced at Bagoas, who was picking up stray clothes and turning down the bed with as much grace as if he was performing a dance. The dark one with the lovely eyes… Not him, either. "Thank you, Bagoas… could you send one of my own pages to sit with Hephaestion tonight? Then get yourself to bed too, I won't need you again tonight."
Bagoas bowed slightly and left. No, Alexander thought, I won't need you. I won't need anyone. Discipline, that is what I need.
TBC