Eumenes stood outside Alexander's door and paused, trying to quell his nerves. His stomach was queasy and his mouth was dry. His eyes slid sideways to the Persian guards stationed at either side of the massive cedar doors. Their dark eyes barely registered his presence as they stood in robes of purple and gold, guarding the Great King with upright spears.
Did they have any comprehension of the personal collapse which had befallen Alexander at the death of his beloved Hephaestion? Did they regard the unease and mourning into which the whole Macedonian army had been thrown with complete bewilderment? Or did they hope a weakened and distracted Alexander could be overthrown from mastery of their country?
Eumenes thrust open the great doors and entered the dimly-lit antechamber. Persian servants bowed from the waist, obscuring their faces and making them invisible against the deep red wall hangings which shaded the room. A pair of Macedonian Pages stepped towards him, their faces wide-eyed and anxious. They knew the King had summoned his Secretary, but were as ignorant as he of the reason. Unlike Eumenes, they did not have cause to fear the grieving King's vengeance.
Eumenes bitterly regretted his quarrels with Hephaestion at this moment of fear.
A door opened on a waiting room to the left, giving a glimpse of a sun-warmed room. Ptolemy stood motionless in the doorway, Perdiccas seated beyond him. They were keeping vigil in case Alexander should want someone, but neither said anything in the hushed quarters of the King. Their eyes met Eumenes' but they did not greet him, they would not acknowledged comradeship with a man about to go to his doom.
Eumenes turned away from them as one of the Pages stepped towards Alexander's door and with a soft knock opened the door and announced him in a low, respectful voice. Eumenes glanced at the Macedonian guards beside the door, their faces strained and worried, their knuckles showing white in the grip on their spears. Without Alexander they were strangers in a strange land, a very long way from home and Eumenes well understood their fear. Yet if Alexander wished, they would run him through with their spears without a qualm, for if Alexander said he must die, he would. He was merely a Greek after all, not a Macedonian.
Eumenes stepped into the darkened room. The door closed behind him and he stood still, staring across the room at the figure of Alexander outlined by a thin shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom beside him. He was sitting on the edge of a gilt chair, one elbow on the head of a golden lion armrest, his clenched hand before his mouth, his whole posture one of tense anguish and exhausted despair.
Fearfully, Eumenes walked towards Alexander, and he caught the gleam of light on Alexander's eyeballs as his eyes moved towards him. He had made no other acknowledgement of Eumenes' presence.
Eumenes stopped a full sarissa's length from Alexander, not daring to approach further. He looked at Alexander and was shocked. He had not seen him since they had dragged him off the body, and he was appalled at the change in his King.
Alexander had cropped his hair close against his head, his scalp gleaming palely. His haggard face was unshaven, the bristles catching the light greyly. Five days of barely eating, sleeping or drinking had hollowed his cheeks and aged him ten years. The faded blue tunic he wore was wrinkled as if he had slept in it and the edges were ragged with wear.
He looked like a criminal, a prisoner of his grief, as though he were the meanest slave from the silver mines who had escaped to sit like a madman on the edge of a royal purple cushion.
Slowly, Alexander removed his hand from before his mouth, blood on his teeth from where he had bitten his nails down to the quick. With uncharacteristic slowness as though he moved through the waters of Lethe, Alexander turned his head to face Eumenes, and terror gripped Eumenes' belly, crawling through his entrails. This was no prisoner he stood before: those eyes had seen and raged against the torments of Hades. This was terrible power and majesty that would be invincible in this world and the next, the King of the Underworld, the God of Fear and Death.
Without a thought, Eumenes let his weakened knees collapse and he prostrated himself on the cold marble floor.
After a long moment, Alexander's voice said hollowly, "Get up, Eumenes."
Eumenes rose to his knees, the warmth of the air away from the cold floor giving him heart as he climbed to his feet. His heart swelled with pity when he saw that Alexander was clutching a lock of Hephaestion's dark hair in his hand. Tied with a purple strand of wool, Alexander held the lock clenched tightly against his thigh.
"Alexander," Eumenes said. "I grieve deeply for Hephaestion's death. I grieve deeply for your loss."
"Why did he do it?" Alexander interrupted him, his voice rising with impatience and panic.
Eumenes faltered. He had been about to launch into a eulogy in praise of Hephaestion, carefully prepared for days now. "Do what, Alexander?"
"Eat, damn it. Eat, and drink the wine."
Because he was a fool, Eumenes thought, an arrogant fool. He searched Alexander's face for the answer he wanted to hear.
"He was young, Alexander," he said. "He was impatient to be well. Impatient to serve you."
"Am I such a hard taskmaster, Eumenes, that he would kill himself to serve me?" Alexander's voice was brittle.
"Alexander, we would all die to serve you. And many have. We all know we are nothing without you."
"Don't mock me!" Alexander screamed, straining forward against invisible ropes which bound him to the earth.
"Alexander, I do not mock you," Eumenes said frantically, not knowing what god had put those words into his mouth.
"You mock me with my own words to him!" Alexander cried, spittle on his lips, his eyes bloodshot.
"No, Alexander, no! I merely remind you of the truth of the words you said to him, a cruel truth forced out of you by Craterus."
"Craterus would not crow in triumph over his body!" Alexander cried.
"I never wished Hephaestion harm, Alexander! I never contemplated violence against him, nor wished to remove him from your favour, as Craterus would have! I would do nothing to diminish your glory, Alexander, and Hephaestion served only your everlasting fame and glory."
"Hephaestion served the gods," Alexander said, his voice suddenly shaking. He subsided into the shadows of the chair.
"He served the immortal gods through you, Alexander," Eumenes said, grabbing any remission of Alexander's anger to justify himself. "You are the gods' favoured son. You are the god of this world, Alexander. You have made our world in your image; heroic, colossal, magnanimous, and nobler than the heroes of old. We would not exist but for you. You have created us, and men will remember our names because of you. Men will remember Hephaestion's name because of you."
"I walk with gods."
Startled into silence, Eumenes barely recognised Alexander's rough voice. He could only see the outline of Alexander's features, shadowed in the dim room against the upright of the golden chair.
"I will walk with gods, now and in the future," Alexander said, his voice hollow like the voice of a priest from within a graven idol.
A word of denial formed in Eumenes' mouth that he could not utter.
"Have, have you taken auguries, Alexander?" he asked, sounding like a panicked and forsaken man.
"You will. You will take auguries, make sacrifices, pledge dedications and devotions to all the gods for a favourable response from Zeus Ammon, my divine father," Alexander said, suddenly moving forward to sit upright on the edge of the chair again.
"Ammon will look favourably upon any request from his most illustrious son," Eumenes replied, filling the void with words and hoping desperately for some divine inspiration as to the nature of the request.
"Hephaestion is a god."
No, Eumenes protested inwardly.
"Hephaestion will not walk alone forever in the darkness of the night. He will walk in fields of light wearing a crown of gold and I will walk at his side."
There was heartbreak in Alexander's voice. Eumenes' throat tightened. Sentimental fool, he thought.
"He was a mortal man, Alexander, and we are all fated to die," he ventured quietly.
"It was not his time, Eumenes," Alexander said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looked weary and vulnerable. "I wore him out, Eumenes. I exhausted him. I asked ceaselessly for his blood and sweat and he never stinted one heart's drop of effort in all that I asked of him. Even at the cost of his own strength. Is that devotion not worthy of remembrance, Eumenes? Is that not divine inspiration for all men to come?"
Alexander raised his moist eyes in appeal to Eumenes, the sheen of his tear-filled eyes like molten silver.
"I will write my appeal to Zeus Ammon in your very words, Alexander," Eumenes said, moved. "Even the greatest of the gods will not be able to refuse your eloquence and will honour the dead."
"His deeds will speak for themselves. He never failed in all of his many labours." Overcome, Alexander raised his clenched hand to his mouth to stifle a sob.
Eumenes' heart went out to Alexander in his loneliness. As he watched, Alexander opened his hand and pressed the dead man's hair to his lips.
"I did not hate him, Alexander," Eumenes said, as kindly as he could. "I quarrelled with him out of jealousy, out of envy of the greatness of your love for him, as Craterus did too."
"Was my Hephaestion not worthy of worship?" Alexander asked.
"Indeed, Alexander," Eumenes said, as to a child who believed in stories. "In truth he was a brave, loyal, and constant man. He performed every task you set him with the greatest success. He achieved more in the dozen years you have been King than many a man who has lived to seventy. Who could not wonder that sometimes pride made him arrogant and forgetful of other men's dignity?"
Alexander cocked his head in that threatening gesture Eumenes knew so well and Eumenes cringed inwardly. Alexander looked up at Eumenes with reddened eyes, his face tear-tracked.
"Have you not forgiven him for throwing you out of that house?" Alexander said, his voice hardening.
"Of course I have, Alexander," Eumenes said. He cursed whatever impulse had let those words out of his mouth. "I accepted that Mentor was wrong in appropriating the house for me when Hephaestion had already designated it for Evius, even though no one told Mentor. But Hephaestion had no right to throw my things out into the street. He even threw my bedding out of the window!"
Alexander looked up at Eumenes from under his eyebrows. "You profaned Evius's bed," he said evenly.
Eumenes opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He'd half-suspected that Hephaestion had admired the slim, blond flute-player, but he'd accepted the explanation that Alexander had wished to honour the renowned artist who had just arrived from Greece with a house close to the royal quarters. He'd assumed Alexander had an interest in the young man.
"Alexander, I had no wish to make matters difficult for Hephaestion," he said lamely.
"You and Mentor came clucking to me like a pair of old women," Alexander accused.
Eumenes ducked his head. "You agreed with us, Alexander."
"I agreed with you that Hephaestion was wrong to be so high-handed. I did not agree with you that you had a greater right to the house than he did. You did not outrank him, Eumenes." Alexander's voice rose with a dangerous edge.
"No, Alexander," Eumenes said contritely. "I fully accept that Hephaestion had the right to anyone's bed that he wished."
With a roar like a charging lion, Alexander flung himself out of his chair and grabbed the front of Eumenes' clothing, his eyes full of tears. "My Hephaestion could have had anyone's bed that he chose. But he did not. He did not," Alexander insisted, the tears running down his cheeks.
"He was loyalty itself, Alexander," Eumenes muttered.
"I would not have refused him," Alexander sobbed, shaking Eumenes. "I would not have, but you sullied his pleasure with your bitterness and your greed, and he would not take comfort there. He would not. He would not!"
"Alexander, I had no idea. I am sorry," Eumenes mumbled.
Alexander thrust his face close to Eumenes. "Could my Hephaestion not have had the company of whoever he wished without you making a spectacle of it, a public brawl?"
Alexander pushed Eumenes away from him and Eumenes staggered back, his heart beating hard. Alexander had forbidden Evius to play his music, forbidden all music throughout the city, and Eumenes feared his own punishment.
"I will atone for it, Alexander, in any way I can."
Alexander did not heed him, and Eumenes watched nervously as Alexander roamed the room restlessly, casting about like a lost dog searching for a familiar scent. Randomly he wandered about the confines of the magnificent room as though it were not large enough to contain his restlessness.
"The gods are often envious of those they love, Alexander," Eumenes said, hoping to distract Alexander from his exhausted wanderings. The man would burn himself out. "They were envious of Hephaestion's loyalty to you. His love for you."
Alexander stood still in the shadows and stared darkly at Eumenes. "My great fortune attracted the envy of the gods, the most vengeful of the gods. Dionysus is a bitter god."
"A potent god," Eumenes said uncertainly, "with a double nature of ecstasy and despair."
"A vengeful god," Alexander echoed bitterly, raising his head to stare unseeingly skywards. "I destroyed Dionysus' city, and in vengeance for Thebes, the god destroyed Cleitus by my hand. I surpassed his travels in India, and in retribution he has taken Hephaestion. The god placed the food and wine within my lover's reach."
There was a terrible silence and Eumenes knew Alexander had forgotten his presence.
"It is not wise to slight a god," Eumenes said, his voice little more than a breath to stir the silent air.
Alexander turned dark eyes upon him. "The god has warned me," Alexander said, his voice as black and fathomless as his eyes. "I will heed his warning and await his coming."
"No, Alexander," Eumenes breathed. "Do not give up."
"Give up?" Alexander said, his voice rasping as his lips curled in a ghastly smile among the shadows. "I am fighting death. Are you not my emissary?"
Eumenes could not utter a word as Alexander walked to a table with a swagger, pulled the cloth off the jug of wine standing there and poured himself a beaker of dark wine. Alexander tipped back his head and drained the beaker in one long pull.
Concerned, Eumenes moved nearer. "Alexander, is that wise on an empty stomach?" he said as Alexander poured himself a second beaker.
Alexander, the beaker before his lips, said thickly, "I am paying my tribute to Dionysus." He downed the second cup and began pouring a third.
Eumenes half-reached a hand to stop him but, as if sensing his movement, Alexander snatched the cup and backed away from him. For a moment he faced Eumenes defiantly, the lock of Hephaestion's hair clutched against his chest, but he did not drink from the third cup. He took it with him and resumed his golden seat.
"I could always outdrink Hephaestion," he said, sounding almost like his old self. But it was forced, and full of pain. "He did not have my constitution."
Suddenly Alexander's face crumpled and he began to weep uncontrollably. He dropped the beaker with a clatter as he covered his face with his hands, the wine spreading in a dark, ominous stain like blood on the marble floor.
Stricken, Eumenes moved forward to comfort him. He laid his hand on Alexander's bowed shoulders.
"I am lost," Alexander said through his hands and the piece of Hephaestion's hair.
"No, Alexander," Eumenes said in compassion. "There are too many people who love you, too many people who would be lost if you should fail us. You will recover from this, Alexander."
"When? When I am in my grave?"
"You must give yourself time, Alexander," Eumenes said, his voice shaking.
Eumenes had a sudden vision of Hephaestion walking through the streets of Ecbatana, handsome, regal and charming. He could have been the King as easily as Alexander and he was as worthy of worship.
"Alexander," Eumenes said, squatting beside Alexander, trying to get him to look up at him, "we have followed you to the ends of the earth for gold, power and adventure. Those meant nothing to you. Your deeds rose from your love for your people, your generous heart wanting to make kings of all your men. You have proven yourself worthy to be a King and the chosen son of the gods. Hephaestion understood and shared that love of yours, he helped you build it from your dreams and from your love for each other. He will be remembered and his memory will be made golden by your long and fruitful life."
Eumenes searched Alexander's face as the King looked at Eumenes with burning, reddened eyes. Eumenes had never felt such love for his King before. "I understand now, Alexander. I understand that a divine piece of your soul has been ripped from you and you will never feel whole again. But I will dedicate myself and my arms to Hephaestion, so that every time I raise a weapon of war, every time I put ink to parchment, I will do it in his name as though I were Hephaestion himself still serving you. I cannot hope to equal his love, but I will try to equal his devotion."
Alexander looked at Eumenes for a long moment. "Thank you, Eumenes," he said, in something like his normal voice, "you are very kind."
Eumenes' heart sank: he knew he had failed. "I know I can never be him, Alexander, and no one will ever replace him in your heart."
"No," Alexander said softly.
Eumenes touched Alexander's hair briefly. Then he bowed his head and stood up.
"By your leave, Alexander, I should compose the letter to Zeus Ammon while your words are still fresh in my mind."
Alexander looked up with a quick spark in his eyes. "You will not fail me, Eumenes."
"No, Alexander," Eumenes said. He felt grieved. He had not touched Alexander's heart at all. No one would make a god of him when he died.
"You will pledge yourself before the gods," Alexander said questioningly as Eumenes began to turn away.
"Yes, Alexander," Eumenes said, brightening. A public dedication would enhance his prestige with the army enormously.
"Good," Alexander said, his head bowing low as he retreated into his own thoughts. It was a dismissal and Eumenes turned to leave.
As he raised his hand to open the door, Alexander said distantly in the gloomy room, "I will join you shortly."
Eumenes glanced fearfully over his shoulder. Alexander did not sound as if he were talking to him. His eyes darted fearfully around the room, to see if there were anyone there, but it was as though Alexander had not spoken. Eumenes bowed his head to his unseeing King and left the room.
Out in the antechamber, the Pages approached Eumenes with questions in their eyes and Ptolemy and Perdiccas stood waiting for him.
"Take him some food," Eumenes said to the Pages. "See if you can get him to eat something, he's exhausted."
As they hurried to do his bidding, Ptolemy and Perdiccas approached him. "We have a new god to worship," Eumenes told them. "Its name is Death."
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Sorry if this is a bit bleak. Eumenes quarrelled with Hephaestion shortly before his death about a gift but I have used the earlier quarrel about Evius. Eumenes killed Craterus in battle about two years after Alexander's death and was then captured himself and killed by Antigonus One-Eye.