A/N – This covers the two main sieges of Tyre and Gaza. The story of Betis being dragged behind a chariot is not included as I am unconvinced that Alexander, who was out of action at the end of the siege, would be so un-Homeric. See Renault for this.I have also taken the fact that Macedonians speared or stoned people in executions, using crucifixion as a means of display only; it was the Roman's who used as their main form of execution – but feel free to disagree.

Chapter Eleven

The whole island of Tyre was a fortress, surrounded by walls 150 feet high and separated from the mainland by a wide channel. It would be a challenge, certainly, but Alexander knew that here, if they would not surrender, we could be held up for sometime. Diplomacy first then.

A delegation from the city met us with a message saying they would acknowledge him and follow his orders. That was easy. Too easy – the men were calm and polite but none would meet my eyes when I spoke to them. It was a gut feeling shared by Alexander.

"Thank you. In that case I would like to make sacrifice at your temple of Melkart – I understand that is your name for our Herakles. He was one of my ancestors and I wish to do honour to him."

The envoys muttered and said they would relay the request and hastily left. Next day a refusal was sent – they could not let any Macedonian in their gates for security but, they promised, no Persian would be allowed to enter either. Yes, and my Aries is Pegasus in disguise.

In the war council that Alexander called I attended for the first time as a siege requires specialist supplies and equipment. No one there argued against the fact that Tyre had now to be taken by force. It was too dangerous to leave in our rear; the harbour was open to the Persian fleet and could be used to harass either Macedon, itself in support of the Spartans who were making yapping noises at Antipater, or us as we marched on to Egypt. We had already received a request from that ancient land to come and free them. They loathed Persia with a cultured vengeance.

"I hope you appreciate, my friends, this will not be easy. It will cost a good many lives. I will send a formal delegation to them to try and persuade them from this foolishness. Hephaestion, you will lead it."

"Yes – my King."

I hand picked the other five men who were to accompany me, all good linguists and experienced in such matters – three of them had accompanied me to Sidon so I knew we worked well together; my deputy was Solon a native of Pella who I had known for many years, a middle aged man who was one of the few officers who had brought his wife with him – Acte refused to stay at home. This was the second time Alexander had shown his confidence in my abilities on an important mission before the Staff and I was more determined than ever to succeed in this one. Tyre was going to cause the deaths of many good men if I failed.

That evening we had a small feast to show any Tyrian spies that we weren't going anywhere soon nor were we scared. I ate chicken covered in a new sauce; it was delicious. The evening passed pleasantly, no one actually started a fight and I went to my bed fairly early to get a good night's sleep for the following day – I would need all my wits about me on this one. My stomach felt heavy and Alexander joked I was so greedy when chicken was served.

"It will be the death of you one day, my Phai."

In the hours before dawn I began to believe he had had a premonition. I had terrible pains in my stomach and cramps in my gut. Eventually I was sick and then the diarrhoea began and would not stop for hours. If it wasn't one end it was the other, my body chilled as well by the sweat pouring off me. Philippos announced, after examining me, that I had an "upset stomach and was in no state to go on embassy."

"Oh, thank you." I croaked. "I would never have come to that conclusion by myself."

"Phai!"

I couldn't argue with them as I needed to crap badly at that moment. Alexander assured me it wasn't poison.

"You fed the dogs off your plate and they're both fine."

"That makes me feel so much better!"

Solon and the team left for Tyre whilst I slept off a potion given to me by the doctor – the sickness and diarrhoea had eased and Philippos was making me drink fluids regularly, but no solids for a whole day, which was no hardship as the thought of food was enough to make me feel ill.

I was dozing fitfully, worrying about my men. Alexander was near the city walls waiting for the embassy's return. Suddenly I woke up in a sweat. There was utter silence. Two of my pages, Hero and Damon, were sitting quietly beside me, so it was nothing they had done that roused me. Then we all heard the ground swell of noise building to a roar as if the whole army was screaming. I sat up, wide eyed, every sense on alert, straining to hear. Had something happened to the King? What else could unsettle the army so. My mouth went dry and my throat constricted as I tried to give Damon the order to go find out what was happening.

Ptolemy rushed in then, his face ashen, his breath rapid as if he had been running.

"They killed them, Hephaestion – they killed them!"

My men – dead? "How?"

"Alexander and the Staff were watching. A Tyrian on the walls yelled they had received his terms and this was their reply. Then they led Solon and the others up onto the wall and killed them before our eyes – the bodies were thrown into the sea."

I couldn't cry. Why couldn't I cry? They were my men; slaughtered like animals, against every rule of war there was! Oh, Zeus, Alexander!

"Hero, help me up. Now boy!"

He jerked up to assist me but I only got to a sitting position with one leg off the bed when Cleitus burst in to the tent.

"Hephaestion! You're…gods!" He stared upwards, raking his hands through his hair. "They're dead. Why weren't you with them?"

"I was taken ill last night. Sorry to disappoint you, General."

The brown eyes locked onto mine and what I saw there was not contempt or disappointment – it was pain. Without saying another word he swung about and left the tent. Ptolemy looked at me in as much shock as I evidently was, but I needed to get to Alexander – he would be desperate and furious about the deaths of men he had sent into danger and my place was with him.

With the help of the pages and Ptolemy, I dressed and, leaning on my fellow general, made my way to the command tent. The whole camp was heaving like a hill of furious ants. Whatever the Tyrians expected from their butchery they could never have realised what fury was about to be unleashed against them. It took us months but we taught them that lesson, one they never forgot – those that we allowed to survive.

Alexander was pacing the tent giving orders in a crisp, business like manner – but I saw his hands shaking. On one circuit he brought up in front of me.

"What are you doing out of bed, General? Go back there."

"You need me, sire."

"Yes – a siege needs the hard work of a great logistics officer – one who is fully fit and won't fall ill on me."

He spoke sense and I did not argue as my legs were about to give out. He motioned for Ptolemy to take me back to my tent and then return for his own orders.

Once back in my bed I sent Damon to see if Acte needed anything immediately and if she was able to come and see me. Not long after he had left, he returned with Solon's widow. She was a small, lovely woman, a decade older than myself; Acte always reminded me of my eldest sister. What could I say to her? We looked at each other and all we felt was said in silence.

"I can arrange for you to be sent home if that is your wish."

"No, my lord. There is nothing for me there."

"Then what? You will be taken care of I assure you…"

"I would ask to stay here, my lord."

"And do what?"

"Whatever I can to assist the King by assisting you. Solon – he taught me my letters and how to read; I can help you in the administration…"

I was too tired and full of grief to be startled by her words and accepted her offer. At least I would be able to give her my protection. I feel into a dreamless sleep after she left.

I was woken in the darkest part of the night by hands touching my face, tracing it feature by feature as if their fingertips were trying to memorise it. Whatever he had been doing, that unique scent never left his body and I opened my eyes to look into the gloom of the tent, lit only by a single oil lamp, and see his eyes unnaturally bright from the tears in them.

"I've sacrificed to the gods tonight – asking for their continued favour…"

"Alexander – it was not your fault. Don't do this to yourself, my love." I whispered, brushing his soft hair with my hand.

His head jerked up, knocking my hand away abruptly.

"The men? Gods – Phai – you don't – I was sending you in there! If you hadn't been taken ill, you would have been one of the bodies the divers have just fished out! When they were being killed, each one – I saw you, you."

I started shaking uncontrollably. All of the day I had pushed that very thought from my mind into its deepest recess, not daring to let it out: the relief that I was alive and someone else had died. I had also refused to acknowledge to myself what Xander must have been going through all day, his terror for me and his need not to show it to anyone.

"Oh, Xander, I'm sorry; I'm sorry…"

"Ssh. The gods were with me today, at least partly – they didn't take you from me. That's why I sacrificed, in gratitude for your life. I shall give all honours to Solon and the others tomorrow and send their families all the wealth they will ever need, though I doubt it will truly ease their grief, only their material burdens. I still have you, that's all I ever ask for."

We slept the remainder of the night in each other's arms, taking solace and strength from the other. It was the best medicine either of us could have at that moment.

The next day he started work on the mole, supervising it himself and shouting encouragement to the carriers, giving prizes to those men whom he saw working the most fearlessly and best. Once it had progressed far enough into the channel for it to come into bowshot range from their walls, I devised with him towers of wood and hide which could be pushed out onto the mole; archers could use it as a firing platform and the workers as a shelter from enemy retaliation, dashing out when it was clear to dump their load of rocks and soil into the channel.

The Tyrians countered by sending a fire ship with cauldron's of burning pitch high up in its yards to ram the mole and burn down the towers – any men left inside were burned alive.

They were clever bastards. Well, we would match them. Undeterred Alexander ordered new towers to be built and the work to continue. Now that we were getting closer to the deeper part of the channel our enemy could bring their ships to bear. We needed our own fleet to counter it so Alexander and I went back to Sidon.

During the few weeks it would take to raise a fleet, he took the opportunity to subdue a number of rebellious local tribes. I was deep in discussion with representatives from another island, Cyrus; Abdalonymus acted as host and was of great help to me and my king. It did my ego no end of good to see how well he was performing as king for the people of Sidon.

By the time Alexander returned I had a fleet of two hundred ships, one hundred and twenty of which were Cypriot vessels. My king was ecstatic; he had subdued all the local malcontents in his small campaign – as well as adding another 'legend' to his haul. On a cold night in the mountains his old pedagogue, Lysimachus (who had insisted on accompanying him) complained of the cold so Alexander raced off to steal a fire brand from the enemy's camp fire. A lovely story, I said, but what had stopped him from lighting his own fire? He just winked at me.

We sailed back to Tyre ready for a sea battle, Alexander's ship taking the point closest to the walls, and therefore in the most danger. But the Tyrians refused the bait, closing their harbour with a boom of ships. It was back to the hard slog of the mole then but the ships would come in handy. Putting catapults aboard I was to harass the defenders on their weak, seaward side and keep them busy whilst he increased work on the mole. He gave me Cleitus to assist me.

The Tyrians countered by throwing rocks and boulders at us, so the ships had to kept too far off to shoot effectively. Alexander then had the idea of harvesting those self same missiles to use on the mole! This involved my ships having to anchor whilst we hauled up the boulders and it left us vulnerable to attack from missiles above and divers cutting our anchor cables below; undaunted, we replaced cables with chains – which stopped the cutting but not the damn rocks falling.

"Pity they can't aim them for the barges instead," Cleitus moaned, as a rock splashed near our ship. "Save us hauling them up."

"Why don't you suggest it to them?" I retorted when a boulder the size of a small horse smashed into the side of our ship, killing a man beside me and knocking me into the sea.

I'm a good swimmer, unlike Alexander, but my armour was weighing me down and the rock had hit my shoulder, dislocating it. I was sinking rapidly before I could start to push myself back up then I felt my hair being grabbed in a vice like grip, pulling me up until I broke the surface and gulped air into my raw lungs. An arm was wound about my waist tightly dragging me back to the ship where I was brought aboard and landed on the deck like a large fish. I fell on my back, hitting my shoulder but couldn't cry out as I had no breath. Cleitus was then beside me, as wet as myself, removing my armour, before he turned me over and pushed violently down on my back to pump the water out of my lungs until I was able to yell at the pain he was causing my shoulder. Not even bothering to sympathise, the man merely slammed the bone back into its natural orbit making me see bright white and very probably enjoying how it made me scream again. I have always been dubious of those men who pride themselves on their ability to stay 'heroically' quiet when wounded – the men I met had no qualms about howling and they were tough enough to conquer the world.

When the ship docked he helped me disembark to find a fearful Alexander bearing down on us; ignoring the fact that we were surrounded by the entire army and in full view of the enemy, he took me into a crushing hug my shoulder could have done without and kissed me soundly, to a chorus of wolf whistles and my growing embarrassment. He would never have done it before what happened to Solon.

"He's fine, Alexander." Cleitus drawled. "Just had a bath that's all – inside and out."

Shaking his head he began to walk off but I caught his arm.

"Cleitus – my thanks."

"You owe me, Athenian."

I did not deny it. What I couldn't understand was why he had done it and I had no chance to find out until much later.

Things were going to plan; the mole was extending relentlessly until it was close enough to join with my fleet in the beginning of a concerted barrage of catapult bolts, arrows and missiles. The towers were now replaced with siege towers and infantry started to move up; this was when the ever inventive Tyrians unleashed their most horrendous weapon yet – burning hot sand was poured down on the men, getting under their armour and cooking them as you would a crab; their screams haunted our dreams for weeks after as they tore at their clothing trying to find release or jumped into the water to drown, still screaming.

Meanwhile, Darius had sent another 'note' saying Alexander could have half the kingdom and a daughter as wife. My king replied he would have the whole kingdom and marry who he damn well pleased, with or without Darius' leave – and then went back to the siege.

It had been six months of blood, sweat and angry tears; of atrocities and barbarities that rivalled those seen at the Issus. Time to end it. With a pincher movement of men on the mole and my ships attacking the boom, we broke through and started bombarding the weaker seaward walls until they were breached. The Tyrians realised it was the end and left the walls to fight in the streets.

It was brutal, bloody, bruising, brain numbing and cathartic – all our pent up rage for the murder of the envoys and the burning of our men, forged the Macedonian army into a single sword arm cutting down the whole garrison with no mercy till over six thousand men lay dead. The rest, civilians, were sold into slavery. None of us shed a tear; we had already shed too many.

"Crucify at least a thousand of the bodies." Alexander ordered. "I want it clearly understood what I do to people who kill my men in cold blood!"

The Tyrians had abused the bodies of our dead – now over two thousand of their own would be refused their last rites.

We re-garrisoned the city with Cyprians and Sidonians as well as Macedonians and moved onto Gaza, the last major port the Persians could use before Egypt. Alexander put me in command of the fleet to search for supplies, support the land army and harass any Persian ships that might come to Gaza's assistance. It was a short siege compared to Tyre, only two months, but its governor, a eunuch called Betis, was a tough old bird and would not surrender.

The fleet had it the easiest in this campaign. I had Nearchus as my second; Cleitus was needed on dry land where his talents were of more use. We had been unusually, almost painfully, polite to each other since my dunking back at Tyre and it was confusing me like Hades. I understood a foul mouthed Black Cleitus, not this quiet, self-absorbed one.

"Nearchus, I'm going ashore to get our orders and some new supplies."

"Make sure we get enough bolts for the catapults this time."

Once in the camp I made my way to the King's tent where he was trying on a new helmet – it had a long red crest flanked by two white feathers. He would certainly be visible wearing that, which he would like.

"Why the new helmet?" I asked watching him preen before a mirror – I liked watching him do that. He nodded at his old one which I picked up and saw a huge dent in its top that had actually cracked the metal. "How did this happen?"

"Bird dropped a stone on me. Aristander said it means I will take the city but at some danger to myself for this day."

"Um. How do I protect you from bird droppings now, my king?"

He turned slowly and looked at me sitting nearby, then took off his helmet and set it aside carefully; I couldn't stop the laugh that was bubbling up inside me, which is why he caught me off guard by a flying tackle that had us both rolling on the floor.

"Ouch – watch my shoulder!"

"Fuck your shoulder."

"Well that could be interesting, is it possible?"

"Phai – shut up!"

Afterwards we talked sensibly about the omen and he assured me he intended to stay out of range in the siege for today. We went out to check on the progress of the assault and he was as good as his word – until he saw some men being driven back by a determined sorte from the city and dashed into help them, me right behind. A man he was fighting surrendered and, because he had shown much bravery, Alexander spared him, only to have the bastard whip out a dagger and try to stab him; Alexander had the reflexes of a cat, parried the blow with ease and struck home, killing his assailant instantly.

"There – that was the danger!" he yelled at me and stayed on to fight in the thick of it.

That was when one of the defenders with a crossbow got in a lucky shot, hitting him in the shoulder. The doctor pulled out the bolt and hastily bandaged the arm so that the King could return to the fight. Unfortunately the bandage wasn't tight enough and slipped under his armour so that he began to bleed heavily; seeing the paleness of his face I forced my way through to him as the loss of blood from his haemorrhage caused him to faint back into my arms.

He couldn't fight anymore so he had a stretcher made up that could be carried out each day to supervise the operations until Gaza fell. Betis committed suicide.

That night we had an intimate supper, just the two of us, both with aching shoulders.

"Do you think it will get any easier soon?" I asked tiredly.

"We head for Egypt next. I want you to take the fleet again and leave supplies as the army marches down."

We mused in silence for awhile; the last eight months had been exhausting, physically and emotionally. We all needed a rest, a long one.

TBC