Chapter 5

Dear Master Aristotle;

After securing the Phoenician port cities, we left for Gordium to meet with Parmenion. The climate here is much warmer and dryer than in Macedon. Each time a gust blew over the royal road, the dusts swirled up in the air. As the dust settled down again, it made everything look dull as if they were covered with a thin opaque grey fabric. Even the leaves of some shrubs were not as green as they are supposed to be, but silvery grey green.

I wonder if living in a barren environment like this ever affects people's minds, I wonder if people's minds become numb and barren as well. Maybe it is because I am not used to the locals, thus I cannot see their true forms, but when we encountered with a few of them on the road, I saw nothing in their eyes. They were expressionless, and as empty and dry as the land around us.

Soon, we arrived at the River Sagarus, the shallow water was murky and grey and blended perfectly into the surroundings. The mounds of tumulus in the distance broke the otherwise monotonous flat landscapes. The local guide pointed out the greatest mound and told us that it was the tomb of King Midas. The name King Midas brought me a fond memory, and I could not help smiling when I met with Alexander's reminiscent gaze. He too must have remembered our little play in Pella when we were still young and innocent.

During a short break from school, Alexander and I used to sneak into the kitchen to steal some wine and bread while the servants were resting after serving breakfast. I remember that we giggled like girls running all the way deep into the palace garden to this secluded corner we found, while almost tripping over the huge bedspread we carried along. It was the back edge of the garden where sharp slopes of the hill defined the end. Hardly ever anybody came to visit there, since it was so far away from the palace. We had the place all to ourselves.

It was not as cultivated as the rest of the garden, but the natural beauty of it could claim to be one of the most beautiful parts of the garden. There was a tall exotic tree stood by a crystal clear stream. I overheard once a gardener mentioning that the tree was a gift from one of the Persian Nobles, and was brought here all the way from Canton, China. It may have an official name, but we called it foxglove tree, since the tubal flower looked just like the ones of those. Next time, when you visit Pella, please go and see it, so that you can tell me what its real name is.

In early summer, it produced an abundance of white flowers. Each time when the breezes gently shook the branches, it dropped flowers from the sky that looked like huge snowflakes, which in turn covered the ground with sweet smelling tubes. We gathered them and threaded them together to make wreathes to put on our heads and around our necks. The redolence of the flowers was not as strong as of honeysuckles, but equally as sweet.

We spread a bed-cover over the grass under the tree, set out the cups for wine and plates for bread, and pretended to have a luscious banquet of King Midas. After drinking a cup of wine and nibbling a piece of bread, we laid down. Then Alexander would get up, wander off to the garden, and come back. I was supposed to be asleep. He touched the top of my head, and it was the cue that I turned into gold.

He gently stroked my hair and cheeks, but I remained completely still, I even breathed so shallow to suppress the movements of my chest that Alexander had to put his ear against my heart to make sure that I was still alive. A strand of his fine hair fell onto my chest, and sensuously tickled my bare skin. I had to concentrate and try very hard not to move or moan.

Then he lifted me up, and carried me to the stream. I still can feel Alexander's heated body against my face and a side of my body, and his strong arms on my back and behind my knees. I heard him going into the water, and soon the tip of my toes hit the cool surface of the water. I held my breath in anticipation of being submerged into the water. I did not struggle even when my whole body went under the water, and good amount of air escaped from my lung in the form of a gasp caused by a sudden change in temperature.

I stayed still in Alexander's arms with full trust knowing I would be pulled up in no time, and Alexander had never betrayed my trust. He had never played a hoax on me. When I came to the surface, I was always greeted with the same beautiful sight; the golden hair shining like a halo against the blue sky, clear bright eyes filled with passion looking down at me, and a sweet satisfying smile given just for me. And then he bent over and kissed me lovingly. I could not help but feeling as if I were reborn. Alexander had taken my old life, and given me a new life as his companion, Patroclus.

Now you know why we both blushed and chuckled so uncontrollably and left you and the rest of the class in puzzlement, when you mentioned a story of King Midas. Talking about a story, do you remember the time we discussed about the myth of the Gordian knot? Did you notice Alexander's expression when you mentioned that nobody had ever solved the problem even after all those years? You have surely seen his eyes light up dangerously. As you have guessed, Alexander had to challenge the impossible problem.

"Probable impossibilities are to be preferred to improbable possibilities." That is how Alexander approached to the problem. He saw it as 'probable impossibilities', not as 'improbable possibilities'. However, nobody could see the 'probable impossibilities' in the Gordian knot. To tell the truth, even I had a doubt if Alexander could ever find the solution. Have you ever seen the knot? The complication of it is beyond the words that had ever been tempted to describe it. It is massive.

Naturally, all the officers were against it, for Alexander's almost seemed to be a reckless action. They were afraid that if Alexander failed, and the possibility of it looked much greater than success, we would lose the trust and the passion of the soldiers and it would be the end of our campaign, the loss against the Persians. But you know how Alexander is; nothing would change his mind once he had made it up.

So three days after we settled in town, we were there all gathering around the old ox cart to witness Alexander solve the impossible puzzle of the Gordian knot. It was a beautiful day in spring with a few white clouds nonchalantly floating in the blue sky. We the officers of the army stood closer to Alexander in front of the cart, and soldiers and locals spread into a couple of rows deep circles around us.

Thick rope connected a shaft to the yoke. It was tied around so many times in such an intricate manner that it was impossible to see the beginning or the ending of the knot. Alexander stood there unmoving with frown between his eyebrows, his eyes bearing down onto the knot as if to burn a hole into it. He circled around the cart while beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. Everybody was in dead silence.

I became so nervous and worried that it was very hard for me to keep watching him. My palms were sweating and my heart was pounding madly. What if Alexander could not solve the problem? It could end his dream here at the mouth of Asia, even before having a chance of confronting Darius. The longer it took, the more restless the crowds became as well, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment unable to watch Alexander suffer any longer.

When I opened my eyes again, I met with Alexander's dark orbs staring upon me as if he was seeing me somewhere else. I had never seen such a strange expression on his face. It was a mixture of lust, passion, pain, and determination. He turned his face back to the cart, and then an unbelievable thing happened. He drew his sword out, and swung it with full force from above his head to the knot. The knot was cut in pieces and the seal was broken. Everybody gasped, and froze to the spot.

At that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do. Time was crucial; the result could swing either way. I had to act very quickly. I hurried to take Alexander's wrist, and raised his hand high in the air and shouted, "The king of Asia was just born!", just like I claimed his throne when king Philip was assassinated. I let out my breath in relief when I heard the crowd roar and clap their hands after a short silence.

And then I noticed that even those once expressionless eyes of the locals were shining with a passion and admiration, and I understood that they had merely been dormant. All they needed was a fresh water to wash them away. And Alexander's bold and almost insane action just did the work. Master Aristotle, you once told us that "no great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness", and I believe that Alexander had just proven that.

Your Humble Student,

Hephaistion