Title: Sun and Stars
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Alexander or any of the other characters; they belong to history. However, just in case Oliver Stone is feeling lawsuit-happy, I don't own any of his interpretations of characters, setting or story.
Sun and Stars
The men wandered at loose ends while Alexander was with the oracle, enjoying the shade or the cool waters or browsing the crude market. There would be many Macedonian women sporting pretty Egyptian baubles in Pella and Aigai soon, Hephaistion thought with a smile. Perhaps he ought to look something up for his mother or sister. It would pass the time, anyway, and so leisurely he made his way down to the hustle and bustle of the market.
Ptolemy was already there, he saw, poring over a collection of gold and lapis pieces while the stall holder gabbled in stilted Greek something about them being ancient royal gold, a queen's gold; it was difficult to make out the words behind the thick Egyptian accent.
"Who are they for?" Hephaistion asked, coming to stand next to Ptolemy. He ran a finger over the burnished gold of a heavy, very beautiful armlet.
"Thais," Ptolemy said, without looking up. His brow was furrowed with concentration; Hephaistion had to stifle a laugh. "She asked for something from Egypt."
"Ah." Hephaistion was glad that there was no-one who waited for him in Macedonia, for silly trinkets and proofs of a distant love. "Send her a scorpion or a snake; I've seen nothing in this country but these."
"Very witty," Ptolemy said, rubbing a sheen of sweat from his brow. "It's all very well for you, isn't it?"
Hephaistion was silent. The stall-holder, seeing his absent-mindedness, picked up the armlet he'd fancied and waved it at him. "Good price, good price!" he cried. "I give good price for this!"
Hephaistion shook his head; no, he wouldn't take it. With exaggerated care, the stallholder placed the piece back on the tray, one glittering object amongst many. Ptolemy let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"I can't make my mind up," he said. "Rather, I can't make her mind up. Choose something, Hephaistion."
"Oughtn't a lover's gift come from the lover himself?" said Hephaistion, smiling.
Ptolemy frowned. "You're right, you're right," he conceded, reluctantly.
Hephaision clapped his shoulder heartily. "You need to start thinking like Thais. Start thinking like a dancing-girl, Ptolemy; now which would you prefer?" Hephaistion picked up a delicate gold chain and a pair of earrings, and held them against Ptolemy's neck and ears, leaning back as if to consider how they looked. "Oh yes, my pretty, they look very well."
Ptolemy waved the baubles away with a good-natured laugh, and Hephaistion handed the necklace and earrings back to the stallholder, who was beginning to look very grim. Ptolemy's hands lingered over the necklace, the earrings. He said, "Do you think these -?"
Hephaistion shrugged. "I've no knowledge of such matters. Although, if they look half as well on Thais as they did on you..."
"Hush!" Ptolemy laughed, and to the stallholder said, "Yes, these, I'll take these." All the sunshine was back in the man's half-Greek chatter, he was waxing as lyrical as he could on the virtues of these particular pieces, how the necks and ears of the beautiful queens had been adorned by them in the glory days of Egypt, how great kings had paid vast sums for the privilege of owning them. "Yes, yes," Ptolemy was saying, handing over a few coins, and taking his purchases. "Yes, thank you. By Zeus, Hephaistion," he said in a low tone as they drew away, "that man could outflatter Callisthenes."
"I think you're right," Hephaistion replied with a laugh.
"Are you coming back to the Temple? Alexander's been with the oracle a good while, he might come back soon."
"No," said Hephaistion, "I'll stay here, see if there aren't any more beautiful things to break my head over."
"Well then, I'll see you later."
"Goodbye then, pretty one." Ptolemy shot him a mock-angry glare and disappeared into the crowds, the way Hephaistion had come down from the Temple. Alone, Hephaistion wandered amongst the stalls, the heat suffocating and the smells - of animals, spices, unwashed bodies - just the same. At last he came into a side-street, where the press of people was less intense and the buildings cast cool shadows, an oasis within an oasis.
"Come to buy something for a loved one?" came a voice, speaking perfect Greek, with the barest exotic lilt of an Egyptian accent. Hepahistion,blinking to adjust his eyes to the dimness,saw an old man sitting cross-legged against the wall, with a low table set in front of him and a few things laid out on it. "I've got things you won't find out there." He gestured with a contemptous flick of his hand at the market, swimming in the heat-haze at the end of the shadowed alley.
"Really?" said Hephaistion. "No ancient Pharoah's gold or queen's earrings?"
"Pah!" The man snorted. "He is a crook, I am the genuine thing. Come see my wares." He beckoned Hephaistion with one wrinkled hand. "Come, come, my boy. I've just the thing for you."
Hephaistion dropped down, leaning back on his haunches like a wary animal. The old man smiled, his teeth perfect. He smelled, faintly, of temple incense.
"Well then, father, what do you have for me?" said Hephaistion. The things on the table were a nondescript collection; a few gold pieces, a few silver, a few jewels. Nothing that Hephaistion could not have found on the stall of the man in the market.
The old man's smile turned mystic, he considered Hephaistion carefully. Hephaistion felt uncomfortably as though the man were trying to see into him.
"Ah!" cried the man, after a moment. "Ah, yes, I know the thing."
He did not take up any of the pieces on the low table, but reached into the dirty fold of his robes instead, and brought out a little parcel of cloth. Hephaistion found himself leaning forward, curious despite himself. The cloth was put into the flat of the man's calloused palm, and opened carefully, like a ceremony. The thing inside was small, and seemed somehow to glow; it was a ring, heavy and gold and set with a large amber-coloured stone. Hephaistion drew in a sharp breath, let it out in an admirign whistle.
"Yes," said the man. "It is a beautiful thing, is it not?" He offered it to Hephaistion, who took it reverently, feeling the weight of the gold and the heavy stone. He lifted it up to the light, and it was radiant.
"It comes," the old man began, his softly accented voice rythmic, as if reciting a tale, "from an ancient time, when the sun and the stars were worshipped by men..." He went on, but Hephaistion heard hardly anything, wrapped in the melodic sway of the man's tone which seemed to shroud him in mystery, and he saw nothing but the play of light and shadow in the depths of the amber-coloured stone, and felt nothing but its pure weight in his hand.
"Give it to your sun," the old man finished, and Hephaistion jolted out of his reverie.
"My son? I haven't got a son," he said.
The old man shook his head, half-impatient. "No, no," he said, "your sun, your sun!" He pointed up at the vivid blue of the sky, and the blinding white-hot sun-disk. "Your sun. You understand who I mean." He smiled again.
Hephaistion looked at him in silence and wonder, but his hand closed possessively around the ring. "How much?" The man named his price, and Hephaistion paid it; he was so wrapped in the man's mystery that he would have given ten talents freely, had they been asked of him. The transaction made, he wrapped the ring again in the plain rough cloth the man had given him along with his purchase, and hid it quickly in a little bag that hung from his belt. When he stood, he felt dizzy and light-headed, like a man who has woken too soon from dreaming.
"May it bring you joy," said the old man. Hephaistion thanked him. He hardly knew how he got back to the Temple, but he remembered nothing of the press and stink of the market-place, or meeting anyone along the way. His mind was concentrated on the little weight at his belt.
"Well," Ptolemy said, coming towards him with a smile. "Did you find anything?"
"Oh. Oh, no," Hephaistion said. "No. Nothing looked the same without you to model it for me, my pretty." Ptolemy punched his shoulder, half-playful, half in earnest, and so the day passed, in friendly teasing, and waiting for Alexander.
It was nearing sunset when he emerged from the oracle. He was dark and brooding, his eyes distant, and he would say nothing of what he had learned, shaking his head absently when questioned.
Hephaistion, then, seeing that the time was not right, kept the ring hidden. A time would come, he told himself. There would always be time, for he could no more leave Alexander than turn away from the sun.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed my little offering. If you did, please leave a review, or if you didn't, leave a review and tell me why. Either way, please leave some sort of feedback.