A/N The Egypt part is getting longer and longer so I've put it into two chapters
Chapter Thirteen
"Siwah?" I murmured sleepily, stroking his hair lazily.
We were in his room in a huge bed, lying on soft linen sheets perfumed with some exotic essence I couldn't recognise. They cooled the sweat of our entwined bodies, exhausted from vigorous lovemaking. I smiled to myself, thinking 'I've made love to a Pharaoh,' something no Macedonian had ever done before me. Then he started to tell me of his new plan.
"It's where the Oracle of Zeus Ammon is. I learned of it first at Dodona but the priests here told more me more about it on the day of my coronation. They say the god will answer any question put to him and I – have questions I need answers to, Phai."
"Well, we can visit tomorrow…" I yawned.
"It's in the Libyan desert, my love, about a ten day march from here." He chided me laughingly.
"Oh – well, we can come back and go there after we have defeated Darius. Parmenion sent word he's mobilising, hasn't he?"
"I mean to go now, Hephaestion."
I sat up, pushing him off me a little until I looked down into his eyes.
"You're not serious? You can't go on a trip into the desert for weeks in the middle of a campaign! The place is not going anywhere."
"As you say, Parmenion is watching the back door. We'll take only a few men with us; the bulk of the army will stay here under Philotas and Craterus – they need the rest."
"Alexander! You cannot do this. It is madness. What if you get lost or run out of water? There are many dangers out in the desert and we are not trained for it."
"We'll take guides and plenty of water. I'm not a fool!"
I took deep breaths to get my temper under control. This was no time to get into a shouting match as I recognised that tone in his voice that told me he was going to be obstinate in this.
"You are Pharaoh; King of Greece; you have responsibilities! This can wait…"
"No, it can't! You say I'm mad? Well, if I don't go to this oracle I will go mad. I have to know!"
"Know what?" but my heart was already sinking with dread.
"If Zeus is really my father." He whispered.
Oh, some sweet god, save him from this! I prayed. Olympias! All his life she had been telling him he was special, he was unique; that Philip was not his father, but she had never, or so I thought, gone this far and led him to believe he was, truly, a son of a god? Philotas' words came back in a blinding flash and I felt sick to my stomach. If he got the wrong answer, what would it do to my love's sanity? If he got the answer he wanted, to shed any part of him belonging to Philip, how would the army react? Either way he needed me to protect him once more.
"Phai? Please don't turn away from me."
I shook myself back into the present and gazed at those lovely grey eyes, liquid in their intensity and so filled with pain and confusion I could refuse him nothing. Who knew, he might very well be the son of Zeus – as was Herakles, his ancestor.
"I will never turn away from you, my love. If you need this then I will go with you."
The others were less easy to convince. That was one of the worst Council meetings I had ever sat through as general after general derided him, or tried to cajole him into changing his mind, or simply laughed. In the end he lost his temper and ordered them to do as he said.
"This is not Plato's debating society, gentlemen – I am your king and you will do as you are told!"
Philotas was so angry I swear I saw smoke coming from his ears. Which is why, a few days later, I was so surprised when he announced to Alexander that he had found two guides who knew the route to the oasis. Why would he take the time to find such men when he disagreed with the whole idea? Then again, he was being left in command so perhaps his ego got the better of his temper. Still, it didn't sit right with me. I had no time to look into it as something stranger still occurred to drive it from my mind.
That evening Alexander was staying with the old Persian governor, Mazaces, for the night after attending a banquet with the local nobles. I begged off wanting to complete the final preparations for our 'little trip'. Having arranged for water, food and proper clothing, I supervised its packing and transport onto the port from where we were departing, Paraetonium. I went back to my room and soaked in a warm bath until all the tension seeped away into the lotus perfumed water; I felt rested and calm, as well as drowsy. Hero assisted me from the bath, dried me off and helped me into one of the Persian robes Alexander had given me; placing a small table with food and wine beside me, he took his leave for the night.
I was thinking of getting into bed when I heard a soft scraping at the door. Dragging myself to my feet I went to open it and found Cleitus standing there. I was so astonished to see him, as we had not spoken a word to each other since the coronation, that I stepped back automatically to let him in. For what seemed ages we merely stood and looked at each other.
"Cleitus?" I cleared a throat suddenly gone dry. "How can I help you?"
He said nothing but walked closer till there was barely space between us, his eyes holding mine in a grip that was almost physical in its intensity.
"Cleitus? What – do – you – want?"
"You know what I want."
And I did, gods help me. I tried ordering my legs to move but they betrayed me. The general casually pushed off the robe from my shoulders till I stood naked before him and then he slowly examined every part and feature of my body, almost hungrily, or as a dying man gasps for his last breathe.
"Beautiful." He murmured and I found to my utter shock and surprise I wanted him to touch me – what he was doing to me with only his eyes was enough to make me want to know how it would feel to have his hands all over me…what was I thinking? I love Alexander, I cried in my skull as he pulled me, at last, into a light embrace, and kissed me, surprisingly gently, until I responded and kissed him back.
Cleitus was a big man and had no trouble lifting me off my feet into his arms to walk to the bed and lay me down. Undressing himself he was soon beside me, his hands caressing, exploring, probing every part of me until I was putty in his hands and he knew it. He took me as slowly as he had first kissed me, drawing out the pleasure until my body sang to his experienced playing. He stopped my scream when I came with his mouth on mine as I shuddered, clamping hard about him within me until he filled me to bursting. I had never been brought to such a lack of control when making love before – not even with Alexander. But I did not love Cleitus, of this I am certain. As certain as I was then that he loved me. I dare not.
It all made sense now, or did it? He slipped out of me and lay beside me on his back, staring at the ceiling, not taking me in his arms – we both knew that would lead somewhere neither of us was prepared to go.
"I hate you for making me love you, Athenian. I hate your Alexander too."
"I know. Philip wanted you to be his erastes and I got in the way."
He laughed aloud at that, turning on his side, propped on his elbow so he could look down at me. "Where did you get that idea from? Philip never wanted any man as his son's erastes. Too much power and influence. Besides I had already chosen another boy I wanted – but the Prince got there before me. Oh, yes, my lovely Hephaestion, I had offered myself as a suitor for you to your father and he had given his blessing, too."
What could I say – sorry? I wasn't. I loved Alexander but I felt regret of what I had lost in Cleitus as a lover and mentor. We both knew this would never happen again; no words needed to be spoken. As he dressed and started to leave I took his hand.
"Be careful about Alexander. If he ever found out about this he would kill you."
"I'm a hard man to kill."
"Please. His jealousy is like that of his mother."
His head came up and he looked at me through narrowed eyes, and then nodded. He understood. "Watch yourself, Athenian – I won't be there in the desert to take care of you."
I bridled momentarily then realised he was a joking. Reaching the door he took the handle in his hand but turned to me one last time.
"I will remember this night to the end of my life. Thank you, Hephaestion Amyntoros." Then he left.
"Alexander – we're lost. Admit it." Ptolemy croaked through the cloth over his mouth, throat parched for he hadn't had above a mouthful of water in the past two days. None of us had.
Everything had gone well enough for the first few days until we hit a sandstorm, or it hit us to be more exact, and the track we were following disappeared. The guides told us they could find it again and we were going in the right direction but we never found it and slowly the water began to run out.
We were in desperate straights and even Alexander finally agreed with Ptolemy that we were lost. Making camp early we settled in for a dismal few hours rest. The guides kept apart as some of the others had been heard muttering they were to blame. Nearchus was all for killing them and boiling down their fat for fluids. Thankfully the gods showed mercy that night and it rained hard enough for us to collect enough water to quench our thirst a little and give us life for another day. None of us felt too happy about trusting the guides but there was no alternative.
Apparently the gods had other ideas for the next evening our encampment was approached by two strangers on camels who came out of the darkness like apparitions. Perdiccas, Ptolemy and myself stood in front of the King, alert and ready to draw our swords if these 'ghosts' proved hostile. They were two of the biggest men I had ever seen, wrapped up in long robes to keep the sun from scorching the skin off their backs. The taller of the two approached, his hands wide showing he held no weapon.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"A traveller to the oracle at Siwah. I am known as Ty of Iunu and my companion here is Meryankh, son of Iuwy. I am surprised to find anyone here."
"If you're going to the oracle too we must be on the right track after all." Answered Nearchus.
"Depends where you left from?"
"Paraetonium." He replied.
"Then you're not on the right track."
"Our guides assure us it is in that direction." I pointed south.
Ty turned to his companion and started to speak in a form of Egyptian I could not make out at all, then the big man turned back to us.
"Maks says you're heading straight out into the Libyan desert and not Siwah – its west from here."
We looked at each other and then the king who nodded, stepped forward inviting the two men to share our meal. The declined but offered to share their supplies with us instead and we accepted gratefully. The one called Maks evidently spoke no Greek so Ty did all the talking. It seemed Maks was unimpressed with a general who left in the middle of a campaign to go wandering about the desert. Few of us would have disagreed with him. How did he know that anyway? We wore no armour, only swords.
"I needed to secure the borders with Libya anyway." Alexander explained, not questioning who these men were he was trusting so blithely. "And the men need the rest. We didn't plan on getting lost!"
"My friend here doesn't understand your need to visit this oracle. As Greeks what can it mean to you?"
"We equate your Amun to be the same as our Zeus, king of the gods. I will need all the help I can get on the next part of the campaign for the League against Darius."
Maks merely shrugged then grunted something to Ty.
"He'll lead you back to the right path tomorrow. Maks is the best tracker you'll ever come across."
I certainly hoped he was.
The next day we packed up our camp feeling far better than we had for days – water in a desert is life and death and these strangers had given us life. In the daylight we got our first good look at them and they were a shock.
Ty was dark haired, blue eyed, with massive shoulders and a physique to match. He had a permanent grin on his face, lightly covered with a beard, and the lines about his eyes showed he was a man who loved to laugh.
Maks, on the other hand, made our collective jaws drop. He had to be the most beautiful man any of us had ever laid eyes on, even in comparison with my Alexander. Very tall, well built, his perfect features held no femininity in them; the copper mane that fell to his shoulders when not wrapped in a scarf to keep the sand out of it, complemented eyes the colour of the sea in all its moods – a deep green when he was amused, jade when concentrating and grey as a storm when angry. You read his emotions, not in his face which seemed carved from living marble, but in those eyes. This was a man, clearly, who never allowed himself to be ruled by his emotions.
It was another two days before we reached the outer oasis. We had travelled through a stone-strewn ravine for miles until I believed we were lost again. But then we saw two crows wheeling overhead and Maks pointed in their direction. To us it was a sign from the gods showing us the way but he snorted something at Ty and walked off.
"Birds rarely stray too far from water, certainly not that type." Ty explained, glaring at his friend's back.
Two days later we reached Siwah.
What a sight we must have made to the brightly clad, chattering inhabitants of the small town around the temple; twenty odd bedraggled men, covered in sand encrusted robes, so much so it would be difficult to differentiate between hair, skin and clothing! I was desperate for a bath and to get the sand out of every nook and cranny it had found its way into. However that had to wait.
From the temple a procession was approaching; the head priest walked straight to Alexander, as indistinguishable as the rest of us, with no hesitation and bowed.
"Welcome, Son of Amun."
I couldn't help it – I gasped along with the rest. There was no way he could have known who or what we were, let alone that one of our number was his new Pharaoh! It is doubtful the man had even heard he had one.
He invited Alexander to accompany him alone; as I watched in something akin to awe, my lover followed the priest in retracing their steps to the temple and disappeared inside.
All we could do now was wait. I sat apart from the others, my mind in turmoil. I had been dismissive of Olympias' claims but now this priest had hailed him, so clearly, as the son of a god.
"Excuse me." A deep, rich voice spoke in my ear making me jump. It was Maks. "Please explain why you are all so – upset?"
So he could speak Greek. I gave him a wry smile, which he answered in kind.
"The priest called him the 'son of Amun'. He couldn't have known who Alexander was to say that."
"I see."
"What happens in there?"
"The god is placed on a bark, sort of boat, and carried on the shoulders of the priests. A suppliant asks his question and the bark presses down on the shoulders of the carriers in answer: 'yes' they move forward, 'no' they go backwards. If they move from side to side it is either very bad news or the carriers are drunk."
I laughed out loud at that. He was evidently not a religious man or too pragmatic to be influenced by all the ceremony. I went back to watching the temple door. We sat in silence for awhile until he asked me why this visit had really been so important to the king – he had not believed Alexander had given him the whole truth back in the desert, obviously – astute. How could I explain it to this man, far more than the 'guide' he appeared to be – I didn't know who he really was but I felt instinctively I could trust him as Alexander had before. Keeping a wary eye on my brother officers I answered him as best I could; it helped answer some of my own queries at the same time.
"To understand Alexander, you have to understand Macedonia. His mother assassinated his father, in all likelihood. No king has died in his bed in living memory and the Army Council elects most successors. It doesn't allow for a secure lifestyle, especially when your parents are at each other's throats day and night. Alexander was the only viable heir, but Olympias was constantly sowing seeds of doubt about Philip's intentions. It didn't help that the old king couldn't keep his hands off any woman who came into his orbit – the young men were no threat obviously. The king also married a lot."
"Our kings also had many wives and children. They always cause power struggles."
"True. Then she kept telling him Philip was not his father, hinting at a greater siring for him than a mere mortal. And why not? Herakles was the son of Zeus; Achilles the son of Thetis – the gods do interfere in Greece a lot. If you believe in them, and Alexander does."
"You don't believe in your gods?"
"I believe in Alexander."
As I said those words the object of our conversation came down the temple steps towards us. All of his officers crowded around him so I could not see him at all; but I heard his light voice answering their questions of what happened.
"I am satisfied with the answer I received, my friends, and that is all I will say."
He finally pushed through them to find me and told me to follow him with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. We walked away from the others and I saw Maks head straight to the temple.
"I will write to my mother that I have been here and spoken to the god."
"She will, no doubt, be interested to know what he said." I didn't add that if what she said was true he had no need to write and tell her. He must have read my mind because he smiled and took my arm.
"I intend to discuss it with her when I return to Macedon." My shock must have been clear on my face – we both knew he never had any intention of going back. "But you will hear it now."
And so he did.
He asked me never to reveal what we talked of on that walk and I never shall; I may not believe unquestioningly as some, but I do listen to the gods when they speak to me.
TBC
