A/N – Warning: some consentual sex in this chapter as well as rough language! I mention 'steel' here too which may not be historically accurate but it sounded better than 'iron'! Artistic license!

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Part Two

Chapter Eight

I had barely written those last words when the door to my room opened quietly and Alexander let himself in. Discreetly pulling another scroll forward I continued 'working'.

"It's late, Chiliarch. You should be asleep."

"There are a few details I need to work on for the Games – supplies and seating arrangements. You would not believe how – difficult – it is to get people to put their arses on a seat that won't 'insult their honour' because of its position or who they're sitting next to!"

He laughed, looking over my shoulder – thankfully the scroll I had grabbed was the seating plan for the opening ceremony. I wanted my memories kept private, even from him.

"I should leave all that to Eumenes, he loves that sort of thing – gives the man a sense of power."

I could hardly argue with that. The Secretary would be like a cat that fell in the cream jug so I agreed and offered him some wine. He shook his head, still staring at me intently.

"What?"

"Are you well? You're sweating." He reached down to brush a strand of hair from my forehead then pressed the back of his hand there. "Gods, Phai, you're burning up!"

"Am I? I feel chilled to the bone to be honest." But he was gone from my side to the small cabinet where I kept the medicines he gave me; ever since Meiza he had taken a professional interest in herbs and medicines and very often produced his own concoctions with which he treated us, officers and men alike, much to the doctors disgust. I had more faith in Alexander's remedies than theirs as, over the years, their efficacy had been proven. His present doctor, Glaucus, wasn't fit to treat horses let alone humans. Actually, I wouldn't let the man near my horse.

I watched him fiddling with bottles, mortar and pestle, murmuring to himself what he needed and how was he supposed to take care of me if I was too stubborn to even tell him I was ill. I chuckled – he sounded very much like my mother. Having pounded it all to his satisfaction he then mixed it with wine and brought it over to me.

"Drink."

I did as bid, swallowing the foul tasting potion whilst never taking my eyes off him. Pulling a face at him I handed back the empty cup.

"Now – get to bed."

"Yes – my king." It wasn't until I stood up that I realised how heavy my joints felt and how tired I was. "I'm getting old, Xander."

"No – you're working too hard. From now on give some of it to Eumenes or let Ankhtefi pass it out to your staff. They're more than capable – after all, you trained them."

I was too tired to argue and he was right. I had nothing else to prove to anyone. Time to rest.

Reaching the bed I slipped off my robe and climbed under the covers and furs, surprised when he did the same. Raising myself on one elbow I looked down at him.

"You have told that slithering eunuch of yours where you'll be this time haven't you, my love? He raised Hades the last time."

"I have left him with my itinerary for this night: visit Ptolemy and Thais and give them my gift for their new daughter; see the cook about tomorrow's feast; spend the rest of the evening with my Chiliarch in conversation and fucking him till morning – except the last is out because the object of my lust is running a fever."

"Exactly – so you should leave!"

"Nonsense. You've just been overdoing things as usual, my beautiful Phai. Sleep now and I promise you will feel better come the morrow."

"Beautiful?" I asked sleepily, snuggling down next to him. "I've not been that for many years. Too old, too scarred, too tired."

"Hephaestion Amyntoros you are the most beautiful thing in this world to me – scars or not, wrinkles or not. And a few grey hairs here and there make you look even more distinguished."

"All honourably earned in your service, my king. Especially the grey hairs."

"Be nice – or Doctor Alexander will prescribe a purge for you tomorrow."

"You wouldn't? You would! Wrinkles?"

"Go to sleep."

We fell silent, the potion he had given me was making my eyes feel heavy and close against my will.

"Xander?"

"Umm…"

"Do you really think I'm still beautiful?"

"I swear it by all the gods, my love. I always will."

I could feel my lips curving in an idiotic smile at that as I finally surrendered to Hypnos.

The next morning my fever had abated but I still felt tired and so followed his commands, passing on the bulk of the organisation of the Games to Eumenes and Ankhtefi. I knew the Athenian would be far more parsimonious than I in the details and cost. Even after Alexander had burned down the man's tent by 'accident' to see how much wealth would be saved from the smouldering ruins, he had yet to understand that Alexander never stinted the gods. We also lost a massive amount of the archive in that little stunt which grieved me far more than the fact that Eumenes thought I had put Alexander up to it! After all, I had.

I gave instruction to Ankhtefi to ensure that sufficient money was spent not to make my King look like a miser. We have more than enough in the treasury to cover everything in gold twice over! It hasn't always been like that, certainly not in the year we finally crossed the Hellespont and invaded Asia.

Philip had been a rich man but all his wealth had gone on producing the best army in Greece and towards bribes. At his death Alexander inherited a depleted treasury and 500 talents of debt.

He was forced to realise his own private estate so that he could reward his loyal friends and supporters on his accession, especially those who had been exiled – it was a debt of honour to him. As for the war, he borrowed another 800 talents and set out to join Parmenion with 30,000 infantry and about 5000 cavalry.

As we crossed the Straits he helmed his own flagship; as boys we had sailed boats on the lagoon at Pella but this was not a boat and we were no longer playing. Halfway across he sacrificed a pure white bull to Poseidon, who accepted the offering and our crossing was accomplished smoothly with no upsets. My stomach was not so sanguine, especially when a sailor told me smooth crossings made the sickness worse. After, I was to find he was right when I commanded the fleet in the coastal waters down from Tyre to Egypt. I never did get my stomach under control but learnt only to eat on dry land. That first time I, and many others, were simply relieved to see the shore before us and Alexander, ever the performer, cast his spear before him as the ship beached – it was a sign to say he had come to conquer the land.

Before marching to join Parmenion we made a diversion to, where else, Troy. It had been a dream of ours since boyhood that we would visit the fabled city and honour the memories of Achilles and Patroclus. I had no idea what he had planned. No one questioned the fitness of this; every soldier understood the importance of Troy, it was in our blood and he was the descendant of Achilles after all. But that was not all he wanted to do – as well as honouring his ancestor he had decided his officers and men were to witness his public avowal to something else – me.

We had been lovers for nearly eight summers by then and our roles of Achilles and Patroclus were as familiar to us as our own shadows; there was even a tacit understanding of this by our Friends. Of the two of us I believed it less, being more pragmatic – Alexander never questioned it or his rivalry to Achilles. It was so much a part of him that the two could not be separated any longer. I was less comfortable in the role he had given me but I did not, nor do now, doubt his love for me, anymore than he doubts my own. We were two parts of a whole and Alexander wanted that clearly understood by everyone before we went any further – my position with him was to be made absolute in regard of the army and the King – they accepted it or lived with it, there were no alternatives as far as he was concerned.

Many did seek alternatives and acceptance was never as universal as he wanted. But no one said so to him; to me they felt no such obligation to protect my feelings.

To say what we expected to find at Troy would be difficult but what we saw was a disappointment to all. There was no great walled citadel but a small village surrounding a hill. The elders welcomed us (what else could they do?) and Alexander sacrificed at the temple of Athene, offering his own armour in place of that of Achilles which was kept there. He couldn't wear it. It was falling apart with age but the shield was still magnificent and worth his own armour in exchange.

The next day was to be the homage to the two Heroes. A select number of officers and men, some thirty in all, were chosen to take part in the ceremony whilst the rest would watch. Stripping ourselves of armour, chitons and boots we ran the half mile or so to the tombs positioned outside the city on another hill. Once there, pages brought forward two ornate wreaths of gold mixed with real flowers, handing one to the King and the other to me.

At his signal we both stepped forward, sweat running down our naked bodies, chests heaving a little from the exertions of the run and, kneeling, we placed our wreath on the tomb of Achilles for Alexander and Patroclus for me, before running a circuit around the tomb of the hero we had just honoured.

The men cheered us till they became hoarse – the officers clapped politely, except Ptolemy, Leonnatus and Nearchus who were grinning from ear to ear. I met Cleitus' eyes, so dark I could not make out the pupil, staring at me from a face ridged as stone. He knew what we had just done, as did Philotas and Craterus beside him.

Alexander had affirmed my relationship with him before all – I was Patroclus to his Achilles, no longer our secret, but public knowledge – and the gods help any man who denigrated our love to the King's face now. I was overwhelmed at the honour done me but also at the trust he had placed in me so publicly and swore I would never let him down or act in a way to lessen his belief in me as his Patroclus.

I did of course – I was merely human, not a divine hero of legend. But I have always stayed true to my intention that day, as did he. Neither of us could live up to it, that was all.

There was one last ceremony to perform before we left Troy for good; a private one, enacted near the tombs – we made love to each other. Even now I remember it as the most perfect night of my life and will till I die.

Gods, I'll be crying in a moment. Let me move on.

Joining with Parmenion we headed straight for the Persian forces which now included 50,000 Greek mercenaries under Memnon. This was, not only to Alexander but to all of us, treachery. The king had been fond of Memnon when he had been exiled in Alexander's childhood and taken refuge in Macedon.

That he now led thousands of Greeks against their own countrymen made Alexander madder than I had ever seen him and did not bode well for any of these men if they were taken prisoner. The Persians were fighting for their king and their homes – the Greeks against the reality at home and Alexander personally; to do this they'd rather fight by the side of an old enemy. Pure stupidity.

So was the fact that the Persian nobles, who all outranked their Greek hireling, refused to act on his very sound advise to destroy the crops in our path. This policy would have ended our campaign, certainly for that year, as we would have probably starved. Our good fortune that they did not, as was the fact that they had fewer troops than us. Only 15,000 of Memnon's men faced us at the Granicus River, the bulk of the Persian army not having been mobilised yet. Naturally the King of Kings was not there in person to swat an inconvenient fly from his shores.

Parmenion, having taken over as second-in-command from his son, commanded the left wing, the infantry. I was in the Companion Cavalry behind Alexander on the right wing as always.

If you want a move by move account of this, our first major battle in Asia, then I suggest you look for it from Ptolemy – I know he spent days afterwards talking to as many men as he could who had taken part in different locations of the battle. As for me, I concentrated on what was in front of me and behind, nothing else. My eyes locked on the double-plumed helmet of my King bobbing ahead of me as we crashed into the foe and joined the melee that is battle. I didn't even see Cleitus save his life, as I was desperately fighting for my own against two Persians, a deed I would thank him for but regret in other ways as he never let Alexander forget it.

The worst slaughter was amongst the Greek mercenaries – barely 2000 survived to be sent to hard labour in Macedon. Memnon himself escaped. I also understand that the Persian satrap who had ignored his advice lived long enough so he could take his own life rather than live with the disgrace.

The fly was still buzzing.

He buzzed along Western Asia Minor picking up Greek cities as easily as I had harvested the fallen apples in my father's orchard as a child – Sardis, Ephesus; in the one we replenished our treasury, in the latter the army was paraded through its streets to show the inhabitants that they were now under the protection, and rule, of a Greek leader.

Not all of it passed so pleasantly – in many cities oligarchies, backed by the Persians, had ruled with terror and greed. Once their city had been freed the vengeance began and the victims killed their previous oppressors without distinguishing between the guilty and the innocent. Alexander viewed the smashed bodies of the children at Ephesus with a face drained of blood, thin lipped. I knew what he was feeling then as I felt it myself – how could we condemn these people who had suffered torture, rape and murder at the hands of these oligarchs when we – I – had insisted upon the death of an innocent babe to safe-guard a king and a throne?

He restored the democracy, left a garrison and strictly forbade any further reprisals. It wasn't much but the death of Eurydike's son, in the end, saved many other children who would have died except for Alexander's standing order to spare non-combatants and not to inflict rape or theft on defeated populations. It wasn't always followed. The army became massive and unwieldy at times, but the number of murders and rapes declined rapidly once it was known he wasn't joking about executing his own troops if they broke this law. Discipline in his army was as absolute as you could get and he was the reason it behaved as well as it did. I have seen many a man brought before Alexander for some infringement – all he did on those occasions was to look the man in the eye and sigh; the culprit would look so ashamed that he had let down his king, realising that Alexander took each and everyone of these lapses as a personal indictment of his abilities as a commander. He genuinely ruled his army with love and, though they argued a good deal, it was a relationship that never entirely broke down. Culprits rarely came before him twice. Of course some couldn't, they had been executed.

And so we came to Caria.

All of Alexander's friends were intrigued to see the place that had caused us all so much pain. Pixodarus had died and had been succeeded by a pro-Persian kinsman. Both were usurpers, having taken the throne from the rightful queen, Ada, who had then set up her own power base in the harbour fortress of Alinda. This she surrendered to my king in return for his assistance in regaining her lost kingdom, which suited us fine.

Here started the first of the strange pseudo-mother relationships Alexander was to have with older women, which was amusing considering how quick he had been to leave his real one in Macedon. Perhaps he was looking for a surrogate; he certainly found two women who were far calmer than his own. Ada tended to forget he was not a child and sent him sumptuous clothing and exotic foods until it became embarrassing and quite a joke among the generals. Much of it was passed onto me. I had no end of trouble getting rid of it without him asking questions – I have never liked excessively ornate things, in either clothing or furnishings, whereas Alexander loves nothing more than a chance to dress up. The downside to this is he likes dressing me up too! Most times I can persuade him to calm it down, but not always.

"I like to see you looking the best of them all, Phai."

It did not pass unnoticed by Cleitus or Philotas, the latter of whom could hardly say anything as he was worse than Alexander in his elaborate fashions. Cleitus, on the other hand, stayed with his plain Greek attire and was proud of it. I wish I could have done the same.

The King's relationship with Queen Ada was made official when she formerly adopted him as her heir. What I would have given to have been at Pella when his letter reached Olympias advising her of that! Then again, I was having more than enough problems fending off her own letters to me which never seemed to be in the mail sack that got lost!

We took Miletus and then headed for Halicarnassus which was now commanded by our old nemesis, Memnon. He was beginning to be as annoying as Demosthenes. Alexander decided to fill in the huge moat surrounding the city and bring up siege towers; there were many fire-fights as the defenders made sorties to attack our men, but we finally completed the work and breached the walls. Here Alexander called a halt to offer them a final chance to surrender – the lesson of Thebes was bearing fruit. Unfortunately, Memnon had yet to learn it too – he set fire to the town at midnight then made good his escape.

Alexander was furious and I raced into the burning town with him and our men, arresting and executing any fire raisers we found, whilst pulling out the citizens to safety. The next morning we surveyed the damage and he asked me to work with his engineers and architects to draw up plans to rebuild.

For three days I tramped the city, measuring, planning and discussing its rebuilding; introducing more up to date sewers, a new bathing complex and of course temples – I hadn't had so much fun for a long time and my report was received by the King with genuine admiration and respect that warmed me inside, enough to allow me to ignore the sneers of the generals. We left a garrison there and re-installed Ada as Queen. The banquet that night was a lavish affair; it started off polite and dignified but soon deteriorated into a full Macedonian romp.

At some point in the evening I found myself outside the main banqueting hall with one of the female dancers, taking her up against the wall with more speed and less pleasure than my wine fuddled brain could register. When I had finished, she merely straightened her garments and glided off to find another 'client', leaving me unsure where I was and how I had got there. And my head felt very strange. A strong hand took hold of my chin and raised my face so I could look into laughing grey eyes.

"You don't look as if you enjoyed that much."

"Then you know more than I do – I need to piss."

His laughter was quiet, for which I was grateful, as he put a supporting arm about my waist and led me away to his rooms where he found me a pot to use. There is nothing so enjoyable in life than emptying a full bladder; it has so much to recommend it, leaving you feeling light and free of the anxiety that you're about to make a fool of yourself by urinating on your own feet.

"Better?"

"Much." I replied as I used a warm cloth to clean myself that a slave handed to me before they took it all away and the rest of the servants withdrew at a sign from my host.

I made no objection when I felt sure hands removing my clothing and leading me over to the bed. Lips crashed into mine, biting and sucking my lower lip, pushing wet muscle into my mouth then kissing down my neck and shoulder, latching onto a nipple until I groaned with the bolts of pleasure it was shooting through my body. He moved his demanding lips down further and further until he engulfed my nicely cleansed member in his mouth and I could no longer stop myself from thrusting up into the warm, tight throat, coming on a piercing cry. The mouth was withdrawn from me and I actually whimpered at the loss!

"I think you enjoyed that a lot more than the whore." He crooned in my ear as he bit at the lobe and then my neck.

I tore then at his own robe until my hands felt smooth skin and hard muscle, wrapping my legs around him. "Please." I begged him.

He laughed, taking my lips again in a bruising kiss before reaching for the oil he had left on the table beside the bed. Coating his fingers liberally he slowly pushed them into me, probing and caressing me inside. I arched up into the intruding digits as he probed around to find that certain spot of pleasure there. When he found it, I cried out and he knew I was ready for something more 'substantial'.

He pushed into me gently, building up my need for him in a teasingly, deliberate way; my only revenge was to squeeze his ribs as hard as I could with my knees until he gasped in pain.

"Stop that!"

"Then get on with it – I'm desperate here!"

"You always are. Don't blame me if you can't sit tomorrow."

"Promises, promises. Ow!" he had shut me up by one vicious thrust that hit that sweet area in my ass again and I lost my vision for a few seconds. "Oh, gods that's so good."

Again and again he thrust into me until I was oblivious of everything except his hardness drilling into me and the tightness building up once more in my balls until I came in such a torrent that I thought it would never stop. Within me I felt him shudder as I clenched my muscles about him, squeezing his full length, loving the velvety softness of his skin around a core of steel. Then he came filling me with warm wetness that was delicious. He collapsed on top of me like a felled tree, sweaty and exhausted.

"So?" he asked somewhat breathless.

"So what?" I queried wondering why I always saw small lights before my eyes after orgasm when all the action was taking place between my legs. I wondered what reason Aristotle would give for the phenomena – somewhere there was a connection. And why did the lights get brighter when he…

"PHAI!"

"Sorry – I was wondering why what you were doing to my ass should make me see bright white lights. I was thinking of what Aristotle would say."

"You're going to write to Aristotle? 'Why is it when I get buggered it affects my eyes?' Can't wait to read that reply."

"I thought one of the reasons we came here was to explore and learn besides conquering? Or so you always tell me."

"It is – but I've been exploring you for some years now."

"Bored? Have you learned all there is to learn of me?"

"No. This is what I was asking you in the first place."

"Sorry?"

"Was I better than the bloody whore?"

I smiled up at him and stroked his bronze hair back as it fell over his face. "Couldn't you tell that from my reaction? I doubt anyone will ever move me the way you do, love."

"Good. I don't mind how many whores you bed or pages – but never fall in love with them Phaistion – I couldn't bear that."

"You can't command that, my king – emotions are one thing you have no control over."

He pulled out of me abruptly, hurting me, and sat on the bed beside me. "That's not the answer I want."

"Alexander – how can I promise you something like that? Neither of us know what will happen in the future or whom we will meet. You will marry, have children – do you promise me never to love your wife?"

"That's different and not what I mean. I – want – need to know I come first with you, always. As you will with me."

Reaching up I pulled his head down to me until our lips touched. "You will always be first in my heart, whoever I may love later, that much I can promise you."

He nodded and snuggled down in my arms and I started to drift off to sleep when I heard him murmur to himself: "I'll make sure you never fall in love with anyone – somehow."

A chill touched me at those words. They were no idle threat as I knew. I loved him with my very soul but had realised early on that to be loved by him in return was a perilous joy – he was too much his mother's son in this and that night taught me his love and need for me would be as stifling and controlling as Olympias' was for her son and had been for her husband. I had been given a warning and I would ignore it at my peril and that of any I loved.

TBC