Here comes part 5. Things are getting really bad for Alexander without his True Steadfast Friend. No victory or treasury can comfort him, not even the fabled splendors of Persepolis.
All the best wishes,
/NorthernLight
TEMPLATE
Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (5/6)
Author: NorthernLight
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion
Date: January 2004
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".
Archive: Yes, if you like, but please tell me. Archivated at the ATG Slash&Fanfic Yahoo Groups.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. For entertainment only...hopefully.
Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...
Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death and suffering. Severe grief taking the most macabre expressions. Drunkenness. Horrible incendiary fire.
Historical reference: When the great Swedish Warrior King Gustav II Adolf died his poor widowed Queen was so overwhelmed with her grief that she kept his heart always with her, embalmed in a golden casket. I couldn't resist making a parallel in this yarn.
Disaster at Persian Gate Part V
Mourning.
He had always feared the demise of his True Steadfast Friend, despaired of his ability to manage all his great works without him. Now disaster had struck and he was completely alone. The Persian army was totally defeated and Carduzes Cruel Castle was reduced to a heap of smoldering rubbles. All to no avail. His best and dearest Friend, Hephaestion lay dead in his arms, wrapped in a purple gold rimmed cloth. All that was left of him after Carduzes cruel tortures was a heap of sorrowful bones. He cradled them in his arms, and was crying inconsolably over them. Sometimes he lifted the cloth and kissed the poor skull, wetting it with hot sorrowful tears.
He felt endless remorse over his fatal decision to capture Persian Gate before saving his True Steadfast Friend. His quest for fighting glory and victories had always been the most important thing for him - but now it had brought him naught but the deepest sorrow.
The victorious army waited outside Persepolis. They were alarmed when they saw Alexander returning with the sad purple cloth in his arms and no Hephaestion at his sides. Hushed whispers flew from mouth to curious ears and soon everyone knew about Hephaestion's sad demise. Many cried of real sorrow, many more for the terrible grief of their young King and general. He looked so stricken, his face so pale and drawn, his features contorted in a masque of sadness, even his beautiful golden hair looked damp and without it's shining gloss. That golden glow, the divine fire that always was in him and radiating from him seemed to have abandoned him totally. Craterus and Parmenion asked him:
"What shall we do with the city. It awaits us."
"Let our troops loose to do whatever they want with those cursed Persians. They have taken my dearest friend from me. I will have my revenge. All history will know about it!"
The Sack of Persepolis lasted for three cruel days. The plunder, violence and rape knew no boundaries. The commanders had no control over the troops and the atrocities had to run their cruel courses until all men tired of it and fell asleep upon heaps of gold and the charred remains of burnt down dwellings, empty wine jugs in their hands and laps. The poor inhabitants of Persepolis cowered in fear, wishing for someone to put an end to all their plights.
Alexander had been put to bed in the Royal Chamber in the Palace. He rested on silken sheets, his aching head on soft feather pillows dampened with his endless tears of inconsolable grief, covering under a thick purple bed spread. He still cradled the sorrowful bones in their soiled purple cloth, embracing them fondly in a hard grip, now crying desperately, no more tears left to shed, shaking of dry, agonized sobbing. It was impossible to tear them from him. The stench was becoming unbearable. Stefanos and his good friend Alexios were sitting at each side of the ornate Royal Canopied Bed. They had always guarded the King together - but never under such macabre circumstances.
Now Old Aristandros, Alexander's reliable Sooth Sayer, came inside the chamber, a beautiful ornate gold casket in his arms. Carefully he approached his grief stricken King.
"My Lord...you must rest. Those sorrowful bones must also rest. Something tells me your dear friend is still alive. Do not grieve so. He will be back to you. I've seen it in my dreams...It'll take some time...weeks...even months...but you will be together again..."
Alexander sat up, his eyes red rimmed with endless crying, full of despair and sorrow.
"No. It's only as you say to put me on my feet again. Away with you! Leave me alone with my sorrow. I will never be happy again..."
He fell back on his bed, curling up on his side, again cradling the sorrowful bones and wetting them with his tears. Stefanos pulled the purple bedspread over him, his tears also falling on the sad sight of his King totally bereaved of happiness and sanity.
Aristander ran out of the Royal Bedchamber. He hasted to the quarters of Philip, Alexander's trusted Royal Physician. He sat doting over lots of glass phials with strange and sharp colored contents.
"Oh, Philip, I did as you recommended, but he didn't listen to me. I think I even got him more maddened with this unnatural grief. Whatever shall we do to get him on his feet again?"
"We must separate him from those sorrowful bones...or else he will become their companion soon! If kind persuasion doesn't help then we must do it with force!"
Aristandros, Philip, Ptolemy, Crateros and Cleitus marched steadfast and in desperate determination into the Royal Bedchamber. Philip told Alexander in a most decisive manner:
"My Lord! You must stop your grieving immediately and rise yourself into action! You have many wealthy countries to govern...a victorious army to lead... treasury to be savored...You cannot go on like this, moaning and crying over those sorrowful bones. It is damaging for your health! Let us put an end to it!"
They threw themselves upon him. The doctor forcefully tore the sorrowful bones from his strong grip, the other fore men dragged him away from the macabre bundle. He sobbed deeply and cried desperately after his dear one.
"No! Noooo! Don't take him from me!"
Doctor Philip brought a big glass phial with violet contents.
"Here, my Lord. Drink all of this. It will calm you down. "
Alexander refused to swallow, but, weakened from his mourning, they all forced him. The strong drug, a mixture of laudanum, strong wine and hypericum, soon took it's hold upon him and put him to a merciful unconsciousness. Stefanos removed his dirty clothes and washed him clean with warm perfumed water. He changed the sheets, brought a new bedspread and tucked him in, tearfully wishing for him:
"Sleep well, my Lord. I hope you'll feel better when you wake up. "
Doctor Philip and Aristandros put the sorrowful bones in the beautiful golden casket, musing over the macabre bundle.
"Strange. They seem so small. The Lord Hephaestion was a very large boned man..."
Alexander slept fitfully, turning from side to side in his sleep, crying and often feeling in vane after his True Steadfast Friend. Then he entered a nightmarish world, seeing Carduzes alive again, torturing his Dear One in most unmentionable ways. His friend lay unconscious on a cold stone floor, his body tormented and covered with welts and bruises, his beautiful auburn hair matted with dirt and dried blood. He came near and embraced him for comfort, telling soothing words of consolation.
Suddenly his friend wasn't in his arms. A grinning scull and a macabre heap of sorrowful bones stared at him, cold and reproaching. A sad and hollow voice told him:
"You abandoned me for your futile hunt for wars and victories. Never will you find such Love and Friendship again!"
He awoke with a scream of terror.
"Hephaestion! Hephaestion! Where are you? Why did I ever drag you with me to all these disasters?"
Warm, friendly arms embraced him, trying to put him to rest again. It was Stefanos, his faithful guard.
"My Lord Alexander, calm yourself. He won't come back to you. You must return to life...return to all of us who love you and need you..."
He poured a goblet of cool mountain water and held to his dry lips.
"Here, my Lord. You must drink. "
Alexander found he was very thirsty indeed, and strangely not after wine. He drunk deeply from the golden goblet, asking for more when it was finished. Afterward he asked:
"Where is he? Why did you take him from my side?"
"We didn't take him far, my Lord. His sorrowful bones are in this golden casket. They'll rest there until the ceremony..."
"No. No! I cannot bear the thought of him burning on a sad smoldering pyre! I'll bring him with me forever!"
He started crying again. Stefanos had to send for doctor Philip to give him another dose of laudanum which put him to another fitful sleep. Alexander rested for days, slowly returning to a more normal way of life. He sat up in bed, agreeing to nourishing himself with cool mountain water and meager soups and gruel. Not even once did he ask for his favorite jar of wine. His mourning was far too deep to drench in a flood of besotted intoxication.
Calmly and orderly he got up and returned to commanding his army and government. He inspected the fabulous treasury of Persepolis but it gave him no pleasure at all. All that gold, all those jewels, all the splendors of the Royal Palace, nothing could return his True Steadfast Friend, his Dear One. He felt like all joy and meaning had departed from his life. The mourning he ordered went on and on. The poor horses didn't understand why their manes and tails were cut off, the soldiers tired of talking quietly, and no celebrating of their grand victory was permitted.
Then one dayKIng Alexandercalled for a most splendid feast to be prepared in the Royal Palace.
"I'll say farewell to my dear Hephaestion in the most spectacular manner. All are invited. No one will forget his sad demise. "
Hephaestion's Funeral Feast begun in a most civilized and well ordered manner. Toast were said, speeches were held, first by those who secretly resented Hephaestion but had to hail his glory not to fall completely from grace. When they had told their tales spiced with hypocrisy, Hephaestion's true friends came forth, not at all so many. More toasts, more sumptuous food, then fruit and honey cakes. The wine flowed freely all over the banqueting hall, the guests becoming more unruly by the hour. Alexander sat in the King's Hight Seat, stone cold sober. When all was said and done he rose, completely steady and decided.
"My friends and subjects, now we have taken our sad farewells of my True and Steadfast Friend, the best and most sensible man to ever have thread this troubled earth. The Persians took him from me, far too early. They will feel my revenge! "
Suddenly he leaped from the High Seat, grasping a torch from the wall. He ran up and down the banqueting hall, setting fire to all the curtains and furniture, making it a flaming inferno. The guests fled in panic. Strangely all the guards showed them out all in good order and no one got left inside with the roaring fire. Persepolis was burning, reduced to a glowing pyre of sad embers. All it's treasury and valuables had been brought into safety outside the doomed city.
Alexander stood outside his Royal Tent, uphill from the smoking ashes of Persia's grandest city and capital. It should have been his moment of Greatest Glory, his overwhelming revenge upon Persia's many outrages against Greece and Macedon. Instead it had become the saddest hour of his life.
"Oh, Hephaestion, my Dearest Friend, I've given you the grandest Funeral Pyre of all time - but I will give all my treasury and victories away could I but have you back at my side again. "
He turned his back at the smoldering ruins. A very large jar of wine waited for him inside the Royal Tent. He poured a golden goblet adorned with rubies full with the dark red dangerous liquid and set himself down to drink...and drink...and drink even more. The sorrowful bones in the beautiful golden casket moaned in sad regret.
TBC