Part VI
"I want every man who touched him dead," Alexander declared, his voice deadly even as he tenderly caressed Hephaestion's hair. "They brutalized him for over a month and they need to suffer for it."
Cleitus nodded his head solemnly. "No doubt they do, lad, but it will be impossible to determine just who the culprits are."
"Hephaestion will know."
"So you will have him relive his horrors just so that you can appease your guilt?"
Alexander's entire body stiffened and Cleitus knew that he had finally gotten through to the boy. At first Alexander had wanted to crucify every man within the mine, guilty or not. There had been no need for the doctor they'd brought with them from Pella to tell them just how much Hephaestion had suffered. One only needed to look at his body. And serious as the infected welts were to his physical health, Cleitus knew that it was the more intimate injuries that were the most dangerous.
"Kill them all will not erase it," Cleitus said, crouching down so that he was as eye level with Alexander who was seated on the ground next to Hephaestion's cot. "Hephaestion will not be the same as he was before and you must be prepared for that. Something like this changes who a man is and there is no going back."
"Regardless of how this affects him, he will always be my Hephaestion," Alexander said bravely. A bravery born out of love; one that was strong enough to have kept Hephaestion alive thus far.
It was the night that Cleitus feared. Most souls, when not lost in the battle itself, often departed while the rest of the world slumbered. Cleitus worried for Alexander if nightfall claimed Hephaestion as well. Though he would grieve for the boy, he could not help but think it a blessing if the Fates cut Hephaestion's thread while he slept. The boy's dreams were untroubled at the moment and waking would only return him to a suffering that their physician Philip could not assure them Hephaestion would recover from.
"You will have to be strong for him now and put his needs above your own."
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Ptolemy had bee staring at Alexander's tent since the doctor had left a short while before. The only information Philip shared with them was that for the moment Hephaestion was still alive. They were only hollow words, meant to comfort and mask the truth about his condition. In all probability Hephaestion would not live out the night, a possibility that the physician had been wise to keep silent about for fear of invoking Alexander's wrath.
It was a blessing that they had found Hephaestion while he still lived. Alexander would be given a chance to bid Hephaestion farewell and not spend the rest of his life haunted by that lost moment. So where before he had prayed that they would find Hephaestion alive, Ptolemy now entreated the gods to allow the injured man to wake long enough to grant Alexander that farewell.
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He had hoped that it was only Hephaestion's body they would find and that the man himself would be dead. His death would be devastating to Alexander regardless, but there was finality in death as opposed to Hephaestion's now lingering existence. He had seen the body and knew that Hephaestion was not long for the world and the longer he held on the more Alexander's hopes grew. It was only a matter of how far Alexander would fall when Hephaestion breathed his last. The further he fell, the less chance he would recover from the loss.
Of course, Hephaestion was always surprising them.
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There was no news yet from Illyria and Philip was not certain whether it bode good or ill. Already he had his spies out, searching for information about the boy's abduction. Alexander would not rest until he knew and Amyntor deserved to know why his son had been made to suffer so. Philip only hoped that his own intuition concerning the abduction was proved false. Alexander was difficult to control as it was and if he even suspected Olympias' involvement in his friend's disappearance Philip found that he could not predict what the consequences would be. Grateful as he would be to no longer have the woman poisoning Alexander against him, he could not wish something like that on his son. Better that it was just a random abduction.
With news that morning that Amyntor was on his way to Pella to inter the ashes of his deceased Macedonian wife, Philip could only pray that the boy was found alive. He did not want to add one tragedy to another.
Philip knew with absolute certainty, though, that Alexander would not rest until he had found Hephaestion.
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Never before had he seen Hephaestion lie so still. In his sleep Hephaestion was ever twitching, his body as restless as his mind. It could be as simple as his fingers clenching and unclenching, but Alexander would often stay awake for hours watching those sluggish movements. With the exception of the irregular expansion of his chest as he breathed, Hephaestion was utterly still and Alexander feared that the most.
"Please, Phae, wake up," Alexander murmured as he laid his head alongside Hephaestion's, the fingers of his left hand slipping through the viciously hacked locks. "You are safe. I am here with you now and I swear that no one else will hurt you like this again. I will kill any who try. I do not know the identity of the ones who hurt you, but I swear that as soon as I discover them they will die. They should not have used you for sport...."
Alexander squeezed his lips together tight, willing away the tears he could feel burning against the back of his eyes. Philip had not needed to tell him the extent of Hephaestion's injuries for him to know. The instant he had removed the tattered remains of Hephaestion's chiton and had seen the finger-shaped bruises on his hips and thighs he had known. Knew that before what had been offered freely out of love had instead been taken by force.
Yet it did not alter Hephaestion to him. If anything, his love and admiration only grew because of what Hephaestion had been able to survive.
"I understand that you are so very tired, but if you could just wake for a moment," he pleaded with the unconscious man. "Let me see you living and awake. After I will let you sleep as long as you need; until your body has healed. Hephaestion, please...."
And while Hephaestion's eyelids did not flicker, the fingers of his right hand curled inwards slightly. They remained that way, fingertips pressed into the bedding, creating a space for Alexander's own hand. The positioning was a bit awkward, but when Hephaestion's grip tightened around his own he found that he did not care in the least.
"Cleitus and Philip are arguing whether it would be best to remove the collar now or wait until you have recovered," Alexander spoke, wanting to fill the heavy silence. "I want it gone now so that you do not have to feel its weight when you wake, but Philip would rather wait a day or two for you to regain your strength. Wise as his words are, they do not take the collar from your neck. So long as it does not pain you, I will endure its presence."
Even so it was a minor thing when held up against all that Hephaestion had endured in the past weeks. Philip had not made light of Hephaestion's injuries, informing him that he had seen men die from less. It was a testament to Hephaestion's will that he still lived.
"You knew that I would come for you," Alexander whispered, mostly to himself. "I am sorry that I did not come sooner. I hesitated and because of that you suffered. No more, though."
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Hephaestion did not bother to look up from the scroll he was reading when he heard the door open yet again. "I am fine, Perdiccas. It is my pride that is smarting more than anything else."
"So I would imagine," an all too familiar voice chuckled.
Lowering the scroll, Hephaestion glanced towards the doorway where Alexander stood, his expression warm and affectionate. There was also a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"I expected to see you some time ago," Hephaestion said, doing his best to keep his embarrassment from showing on his face.
"I was in a meeting with my father and only just found out about your mishap," Alexander revealed as he entered the room. He closed and bolted the door behind him.
"Perdiccas and Seleucus share this room also. It is unfair to lock them out of their own lodgings."
"I have arranged other accommodations for them tonight."
As he spoke, Alexander sat down next to Hephaestion on the narrow bed. Hephaestion had not bothered to redress after the physician had left and was utterly bare save for the wide strip of linen that bound his left arm immobile to his chest. Glaucus had insisted upon such precautious, stating that he had seen far too many young men hinder their recoveries by failing to heed his orders. With only one arm available to him presently, he had thought it pointless to struggle to dress himself when he was already confined to his quarters until the following day.
"I find it quite perplexing that you can survive the Maedi campaign with little more than a scratch, but cannot do a lap around the practice arena without being thrown from your mount," Alexander mused, his expression serious as he examined Hephaestion's badly bruised and swollen shoulder.
Hephaestion angled his head so that he was able to rest his forehead against Alexander's shoulder. "Xanthus and I are still becoming accustomed to one another."
"Let me see you living and awake. After I will let you sleep as long as you need; until your body has healed. Hephaestion, please...."
The words were Alexander's, but they were out of place. Alexander had said something to that effect at Chaeronea, not the afternoon he had been unhorsed by the then untrained Xanthus. It was all wrong. He could not even keep his memories intact. Whichever of the gods he had offended was taking even that from him.
"Dionysus sees all that you do, son of Amyntor, and he does not approve."
"I want it gone now so that you do not have to feel its weight when you wake."
"The gods themselves have blessed us. Of that I am certain," Alexander murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the center of Hephaestion's sweat damp chest, directly over his pounding heart. "We will travel to India as Dionysus did and find our way to the shores of the encircling ocean. To the world's end. We will be remembered throughout all of time just as Achilles and Patroclus."
Rubbing the insides of his thighs against Alexander's hips, Hephaestion offered up an exhausted smile. "Those are lofty dreams indeed."
"Dreams that we will see fulfilled."
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As he cared for his patient, Philip could not help but allowed the exhausted boy slumped against the narrow camp cot some of his attention. More than a day had passed since Hephaestion had been brought from the mines and he had not yet roused. Philip doubted that the young prince had slept at all during that time or on the journey to Illyria, but could not bring himself to reprimand him. Hephaestion's injuries were serious, and, though the fever had broken barely an hour before, he could not be certain that the boy would live.
Such a prognosis was not one that he would present to Alexander even if he thought it was a likely possibility.
"How is he?" Alexander yawned, his eyes still closed as his head rested next to Hephaestion's.
"The fever is gone and his breathing is stronger," Philip said as he applied a salve to the worst of the weals on Hephaestion's back. Thankfully the boy had been deeply unconscious when the infection had been drained. "However, he is still far from being recovered."
Alexander nodded his head, eyes still closed. "Hephaestion is strong. He will recover."
Philip continued silently with his work, hoping that Alexander would allow himself to be consumed by sleep at last. Hephaestion's deep sleep worked in his favour, allowing him to work without the risk of crying out and thus waking Alexander. The king would not be pleased if his son returned in ill health.
As he pressed a scented compress to Hephaestion's forehead, he was surprised to see a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. There was no recognition in the gaze, and Philip doubted whether Hephaestion was even aware of anything. The blue gaze wandered about the confines of the tent for a moment before alighting on the golden head near his shoulder. For several long seconds, Hephaestion's eyes did not waver from that sight and then slowly the lids fell shut again.
Hephaestion had been awake for only a moment, but it was longer than he would have predicted the day before when he had first seen the boy's injuries. It was still too soon to predict his chances of a full recovery, but Philip was more certain than before that Hephaestion would not go quietly if the Fates had an ill design for him.
He knew, likewise, that Alexander would not give up the other boy without a fight.