A/N Dedicated to Moon71 and Suetimeless for inspiring me with their wonderful stories to try my hand at one. Thanks. Reviews gratefully received so I learn from mistakes!
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Chapter Two
My friendship with Alexander grew at a steady pace but inexorably. We shared a trait then, the ability to size up an individual or opponent with unnerving accuracy. I realised there was more to the boy than arrogance and he saw I was not overly impressed with his 'royal' status.
That was the fault of my parents in fact – they had told me enough about the democracy of Athens and how there a man was judged by what he did, not who he was; that as long as I was true to myself, worked to my best ability and did nothing to dishonour either myself or family, I was as good as anyone. This did not help to instil a sense of awe towards royalty that they expected. It was only later that I found out that Athens was as hierarchical and class obsessed as Macedon with less reason. At least in this kingdom the King had to agree most things in council, he was neither a tyrant nor a despot.
My attitude in this, naturally, was one other reason for Cassander to belittle me every chance he could. Most times I ignored him and concentrated on my studies, not to look good but because I enjoyed the intellectual challenge they represented – I was there to learn after all. I was not alone in this as both Alexander and Ptolemy shared my enthusiasm – but they were Macedonians and royalty (if rumours of Ptolemy's parentage were to be believed) so it was understood they could not be abused for it. However, I could be and was.
The tutors broke up any serious fights but were aware that they could not control us all the time. As to the guards put there for the Prince's security they didn't care as long as he was not hurt – the rest of us could get as many black eyes and broken ribs as we could take. After three months they were a little more wary because the Prince often took my side against Cassander and Philotas (though Ptolemy usually handled him). To make it less like favouritism he also supported Leonnatus and Nearchus when they came in for their share of the fights, but Cassander mainly aimed at me.
Alexander and I had become inseparable. Perhaps it was our differences that lent our friendship a special quality; more likely it was our shared love of Homer and horses and baiting Cassander. I never lied to him, not even then, nor did I ever tell him something he wanted to hear if it was, in my opinion, wrong and would lead him to make an error of judgement. This was always said in private, never before others; he was the Prince and in due time King – to argue with him in public was not only disrespectful but also damaging to the discipline so necessary within a military environment. In effect he was our commanding officer and I never forgot that – in public.
To the others, I have to admit, it would look like I was a fawning 'yes-man', and Alexander's to the core with no ideas in my head except the ones he planted there. When does loyalty become sycophancy? It took me by surprise that I fell in love with him; I was not looking for a friendship that deep but the gods had other ideas – I genuinely believe we were destined for each other, as does Alexander. We have discussed this many times and, even now in our 'old age', we do not doubt it. Our dreams have become reality and, so, far darker than we had imagined. Dreams do not take account of people's lives and feelings, things boys never consider anyway.
To say Alexander's parents took the news of our burgeoning love with equanimity would be a lie. His mother was furious; she would brook no other being close to her son, not even his own father and certainly not a mere boy! She had one consolation at least – if I had been a girl she would have had a definite rival; as far as Olympias was concerned her son's 'infatuation' with me was only acceptable as it seemed to denote that Alexander would not be taking an older man as a lover as was the norm. His father did not see it that way, nor did the father's of some of the younger men now of an age to take a young boy as eromenos. I have always had my suspicions that Philip had asked Cleitus to take the position of erastes to his son; that it never happened may have been a reason why the Black became so derisory of Alexander – if he had trained him, so his thinking would have gone, he would have made a little duplicate of Philip and ensured the Prince was parted from his mother. So I stood in the way of his advancement too. We never liked each other but I did respect him as a soldier and he taught me many things, not the least of which was never to get Alexander angry when he was drunk with a spear near to hand! But that is another story.
When did we become lovers in the full sense? That was the summer we turned sixteen.
Alexander had been made Regent whilst his father was away besieging Byzantium. Some tribes in Thrace took the opportunity to rebel against a Macedonian hegemony only recently enforced by Philip. Instead of sending to the King, Alexander handed over the Regency to Antipater and took us, along with the remaining garrison troops, to put the rebellion down himself. That he succeeded surprised everyone – rebels, parents, court and me!
It was my first time in combat, but not his, and I was determined to act courageously, fight with honour and not puke with fear. Not only was Cassander watching me like a hawk but Alexander also; he had named me his Patroclus in all seriousness so I had a great deal to live up to. I could not and would not let him down, even if it killed me; I would try to stay alive of course.
Killing someone is not glorious – it's smelly, messy and disgusting. But the rush you get when in the midst of a battle, fighting for your survival is so overwhelming that I could see how some men get addicted to it. Alexander certainly was. He never saw around him the blood and agony whilst he was fighting – only afterwards did it truly hit him hard. After every battle he fought in he did a round of the medical tent and spoke to each of the wounded that were conscious, though he would usually be wounded himself. I learnt to do the same when I lead my own men – it gives a bond that can stretch but rarely break. He was genuinely concerned and upset about the pain they suffered but he would store that in a separate compartment of his brain when the next battle loomed and go in as impetuously as before.
I can live without battles truth be told but I've hardened to them now as all soldiers do or break. My first battle saw me kill three men, one of whom was trying to stab Alexander in the back. I didn't know where I was going I merely followed him; he had a knack of 'seeing' the whole battle in his mind even as he fought in it. I could never do that. As Craterus once said to me 'You're brave and can fight well, but you're a plodder when it comes to thinking out a plan of attack – you think too much.'
What pleased me most was seeing that Cassander wasn't doing any better that first battle than me, though he warmed to it later. I preferred to build or create and Alexander asked my opinion, even back then, when he founded his first Alexandria in the Thracian hills. Our respective roles in his army were set that summer in stone.
I got a small scratch on my leg, so I was blooded, but nothing that caused me trouble.
Alexander was jubilant, excited and so worked up I made sure his wine was not too watered to try and calm him down. It worked very well until I was awoken from a deep sleep by someone touching me in places only my nurse and my mother had done up to that point in my life. I realised quickly who it was by his unique scent and relaxed – somewhat.
"Alexander, what are you doing?" I whispered. My tent was small and very close to Ptolemy's.
"What do you think I'm doing…?"
"You shouldn't be …um…doing that!"
"Ssh…"
It was clumsy, embarrassing and highly enjoyable. We evidently made some noise as Ptolemy's concerned query to me the next day as to whether I could still sit my horse was followed by a grin and a wink that had me blushing for at least ten minutes. So much so that Alexander asked if I was unwell or fatigued from my exertions the previous day in front of everyone – Ptolemy threw back his head and howled and I snarled at my new lover in as good an impression of a wolf as I could muster whilst being bright red.
We got better at it once we returned to Meiza. Practise always makes perfect and we practised every day for six months, sometimes twice a day. The change in our relationship was noted by the tutors with resignation and the boys with either smutty jokes or shock. Alexander had, once again and as he would throughout his life, shown himself to be different from everyone else and to make rules, not follow them. Co-evals as we were did not have such a relationship – theoretically. Naturally it did happen, a lot, especially in Macedon where the strict parameters of Athens held little sway. If they had done so throughout Greece there would never have been a Sacred Band in Thebes. Naturally we were expected to marry and produce sons; but that would be later when we had matured. Except for the Prince – he would be expected to marry early and beget an heir.
Which is why both his mother and father did not look kindly on how our relationship was taking shape. Within weeks of our return to Meiza he received two letters on the subject of me. Obviously we had a spy in the camp but we had hardly been as circumspect as we learned to be in later years – after all, we were barely sixteen, hormone driven and newly awakened to the 'pleasures of the flesh.' Such is my excuse. In fact, we just enjoyed it too much.
Cassander did not and let me know it soon enough.
"So, Athenian, that is the way you intend to get power – by being the Prince's whore."
"Jealous?"
"Hardly! Who would want a boy…" "Well, he will be a man soon and a king thereafter…""I knew you were only after him for what you could get!" he crowed.
"Think whatever you like Cassander – he knows the truth of it and you are not worthy to receive the explanation." And I stormed away, more angered at his words than I wanted him to see.
The day did not get any better as the next person I met was Aristotle who asked me to accompany him to his room in a grave manner that boded nothing good. Inside I was quietly informed that he thought my relationship with the Prince was 'a little premature and a mistake.' I said nothing but examined the top of his head – he was losing his hair I noted.
"Hephaestion, the King has asked me to send him a report on you. The Prince's mother has asked me to keep you apart…"
I looked him straight in the eye then and shook my head – whether I was saying no to him being able to part us or that I would never allow it I am still not sure to this day.
"The Prince has received letters today from his parents and I believe they both say the same thing. My report to Philip will be truthful but I will make no recommendations either way – to him or to you. Emotions are a tricky thing at best and when royalty is involved…well, I suggest you go home for awhile and talk to your father about this and your future."
"You're dismissing me from the school?" I paled in horror. My father would never forgive me. How would I survive the dishonour of this; how would I survive Cassander's look of triumph without killing him? At least then I would be executed and no longer a shame to my family. What of Alexander?
Here I knew I was up against his mother more than his father. The king wasn't averse to taking young men to his bed and probably believed we would grow out of it. But his mother – she knew her son better than Philip did; her instincts would tell her this was no infatuation that would die out by end of summer. What concerned me most was her sway over Alexander – if she used the right lever, she was the only one who could tear us apart.
"Have you finished your musing?" Aristotle asked patiently.
"Sorry, sir."
"Good. I have not said you are being dismissed, Hephaestion. I merely said you should take a holiday to see your family – and that is all anyone here will ever know about it."
My smile must have been brilliant as he held a hand up almost to shield his eyes and laughed then dismissed me.
I needed to find Alexander. I found Ptolemy instead.
"He's had some news and gone back to Pella immediately."
"Oh…"a sudden pain gripped my chest like a vice. "Did he say anything…?"
"He left you no message – I'm sorry." He laid a hand on my shoulder in a rough gesture of comfort. Ptolemy had always been one for girls and had never understood any relationship between men other than ordinary friendship but he accepted it in his friends.
"I –just needed- to tell him – I was also returning home. To see my parents. Haven't seen them since we were in Thrace really…"
"Naturally…"
I smiled in farewell then went to pack my things and get my horse. Inside the stables I noted the absence of Bucephalus and hurriedly threw the blanket over Aries back, then mounted. Pella was a fair distance away and I needed to get there before dark. Concentrating on that I ignored the hurt I was feeling at Alexander's actions as best I could. It was not easy.
It was sunset by the time I rode into the courtyard of my home, much to the surprise of my family. My mother was overjoyed and hastened to get the cook to make me something nice for the evening meal. Father looked at me, saw I was upset and nodded to me to follow him to his study. There I told me everything that had happened.
"He had letters today and left without even a word to me."
"He was in all likelihood upset and not thinking too clearly."
"It wouldn't have taken that long to let me know! No – this is finished. I'm sorry father, I know you wanted me to befriend him…"
"Yes, be his friend not bed him, Hephaestion. That I did not expect."
He went on to lecture me on the mores of Athens, again, and that I was of an age to either take an erastes or be mad for girls. Apparently he had been approached by no less than five young men for the honour of courting me, all of which he had trouble facing when something of my relationship with the prince was noised abroad in Pella – mainly by the Queen's shrieks of horror, so I understand. Despite my worries I was intrigued enough to ask who they were, more out of surprise than vanity.
"Why ask that now?" he retorted. "You've made your choice clear."
"I – did not expect anyone to want…me."
He lifted my face up so I was looking straight at him. "Son, you have your mother's looks – surely you're aware of that? You aren't, are you? Astonishing!"
This last was said with a hint of pride. It was true, I had no notion of how I looked to others then; it was becoming clearer to me though.
At that point a courier arrived from the palace inviting my father to dinner that night – and to bring me too.
"Oh, dear." I heard him mutter to himself as he told the courier we would both be there. Mother was furious of course.
Having bathed and dressed in my best, a dark green chiton with embroidery at its edges, my mother combed and tied back my long hair herself until she was satisfied with the result. "Beautiful." She breathed. "Even she hasn't a son as beautiful as mine."
Well, mothers are always biased.
The number of comments I was getting about my looks that day made me suddenly aware of how others saw me to the extent that, when we were standing in the hall waiting to be announced, I studied myself carefully in the reflection from a huge, highly polished shield hanging on the wall. My features were regular, in good order, but the eyes – even I had to admit – were my best feature; large and of a piercing blue colour. Well, if, as I suspected, Alexander no longer wanted me, I would not be alone for the rest of my life – even though my heart would be. However my vanity was taking me, my love for the prince had not diminished; I was merely readying myself for the inevitable. To think we could have been allowed to stay together had been a dream – a lovely dream that had no chance. He would be king – I a memory of a golden summer in his youth, no more. The thought made my eyes start to water as we were ushered into the hall to meet the King.
I had seen Philip before of course but not for some time and the sight of him shocked me. One eye was gone, he was lame in one leg and had a new, livid scar on his bearded face. What else shocked me was the leer he was sending in my own direction.
"So this is the boy that has my son's heart, eh Amyntor? I can see why…"
"Yes, my king." My father answered. "I have spoken to him about his – friendship – with the Prince and he…"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure he understands now why it couldn't be. Never worry, lovely Hephaestion, you'll never be without company."
Beside him Parmenion smiled indulgently but Attalus laughed in a way that made my hackles rise. Hastily bowing, my father led me over to an empty couch – one as far away from the king as he could find I realised later.
"We'll stay just long enough not to give offence then leave."
I nodded my agreement emphatically. I did not like the atmosphere in the hall nor the looks I was getting. Not all were lust, some were pure contempt, others hatred. It was a fore taste of how I would be treated for the rest of my life though, mercifully, I did not know that then.
I had wondered if Alexander would join the banquet but he did not and I sat on the couch beside my father, keeping my head down and hoping we could go soon. Later than I had expected (he had got into a conversation with Antipater) he nudged me to say we could go. But outside in the hall, a servant came up to him and said Parmenion had asked if he could have a short word about something. Telling me to stay where I was he followed the servant down the deserted hall. I waited. And waited.
Suddenly I heard footsteps approaching, a sound that did not fill me with joy. I could distinctly make out the drag of a lame leg so knew it was the king before he appeared in front of me. Gulping I bowed as he came up, praying to all the gods I could think of that he would either keep on going or my father would come back that moment. Neither happened.
I was standing with my back to the wall so I was in a perfect position for him to cage me. Inexperienced I may have been, but a fool I was not. I saw the lust in his one eye long before he had me pushed right back against cold stone with his body's weight, one hand playing with my hair the other caressing my neck.
"You truly are beautiful, Hephaestion…" he breathed all over me. I turned my head as his breath reeked of stale wine, which gave him access to my neck and he took it, biting into me and then licking the blood he had drawn. I squirmed a bit to get away but only succeeded in bringing my lips close enough for him to take in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth, probing its way around whilst one hand found its way under my chiton and was feeling his way up my thigh to my groin.
I was in a quandary. He was the king – if I fought him off it could go bad for my father. But I was not about to become another of the long line of his whores. So I brought my own hands up to his chest and pushed for all I was worth. He was a big man but I was not so small myself.
"Please – no - your majesty." I said after wrenching my mouth away from his – he just started again on my neck. "I don't – want this!"
"What you may want boy doesn't concern me! I want you and I will have you." At this he grabbed m y balls in a vice like grip, whilst lifting me up off my feet so he could get me into position to bugger me.
That was the last straw – I yelled and at the same time head butted him in the face; as he dropped me I kicked his bad leg but he swung at me, catching me on the side of my head and I fell to my knees.
"You bloody little…"
My hair had come untied and was all over my face as I looked up at my fuming king – I must have resembled a very wild lion because I remember growling deep in my throat, ready to attack him, king or no king, if he came near me again.
"I am no one's whore!" I snarled. "I belong to no one! I will be loyal to you as my king, but nothing more!"
"Why you…and what of my son? You spread for him willingly enough, or so I've heard"
"I love him. He's my friend. I will die for him if need be but I won't…"
"Bed his father, even if it might mean I will support your relationship with my son?"
"No." The answer came out without thought. I would never dishonour what Alexander and I had – even if it was over in a physical sense.
The King stood there, breathing hard then straightened up. "Get up, boy."
It was an order I could obey and did so, pushing my hair off my face and looking directly at Philip.
He stared at me then let out a rueful laugh. "I don't think I'd like to face that look over a naked sword blade." He rubbed at his face where I had hit him. "And you have a hard head too."
"I get that from my father – sire."
"Yes – you do. Be off with you. Your father's in the courtyard."
Turning to go I suddenly understood the full import of his last words. Swinging back to him I glared at the man. "You bastard!" then walked away still watching him before turning back and running down the corridor. He had deliberately lured my father away on some false pretext so he could try and rape me. What kind of a man was he, what kind of father, what sort of king? I was disgusted, ashamed, wiping at my face and mouth as if his touch was sinking into my very flesh and I would never get it out of me. Outside I threw up. The cold air started to clear my senses. I couldn't let my father see me in this state and I fumbled with my hair, pushing it back and re- tying it roughly, then pulling it over my neck where the king had bitten me. It wasn't perfect but it would have to do.
Walking into the courtyard I saw my father. He was not alone. Alexander was with him.
TBC
