Part VII
It was an uncomfortable tenseness in his shoulders that roused Alexander first. He hovered in that half-awake state for a moment, uncertain as to why he should be aware of such a pain when there had been none before. The thought was not even fully formed before he bolted upright, his eyes searching out and finding Hephaestion. He had fallen asleep. Hephaestion could have died and he would have been asleep.
Ignoring his own minor pains, Alexander leaned over Hephaestion, fingers winding through his hair. When his fingers pressed against Hephaestion's scalp, it was a welcome surprise that his lover turned into his touch ever so slightly.
"Hephaestion?" Alexander whispered, clinging to the faint hope that his love was no longer quite so unconscious and could be roused slightly. "Can you hear me?"
Hephaestion's head sunk back into the pillow then and with it went any chance of him waking presently. Still, Alexander no longer felt quite so fearful. It was not a complete return to consciousness, but Hephaestion had been at least somewhat aware. Enough to recognize the hand in his hair and know that he was safe.
"How is he?"
Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Hephaestion, Alexander turned towards the entrance of the tent where Ptolemy stood. "Better than he was yesterday. Stronger."
Ptolemy bowed his head slightly, genuine relief showing on his face. "I am glad to hear it."
"There are others who will not be," Alexander murmured sadly. "I do not believe that it was pure chance that brought Hephaestion here."
"Alexander, surely no one hates Hephaestion enough to—"
"Bring the foreman here in an hour," Alexander interrupted him. "I want to know everything that happened to Hephaestion while he was here."
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Less than two hours later it took both Cleitus and Leonnatus to haul Alexander off the cowering foreman. He was spitting out vile curses and threats, the likes of which Ptolemy had never heard from Alexander before. Obvious as it was that the man was attempting to alter some of the facts, what he did say was enough to give all of them listening pause. And to reevaluate their opinions of Hephaestion Amyntoros. There was not one of them who could claim to endure all that Hephaestion had and come out in better condition. Like as not, some, if not most, of them would have died during those six weeks. Servitude in the mines was meant to break a man.
None of them dared voice the fact that, had it been anyone other than Hephaestion, none would have bothered to bat an eye over the atrocities inflicted upon the victim. A slave's death was nothing to trifle over. However, Hephaestion was no slave. He was from a well-born family and, beyond that, he was loved by a Macedonian prince. Well as Alexander treated all of his friends, none were held in such high regard as Hephaestion. Nor was it an enviable position to hold because Ptolemy becoming more and more convinced that Hephaestion's sojourn in the Illyrian mines was a direct result of his relationship with Alexander.
"You dare to claim innocence when you allowed this to carry on under your nose?" Alexander snarled, once again pulling against Cleitus' hold. "You allow a man to be raped and brutalized and then have the gall to punish him for killing one of his attackers. Not even a blind man could fail to see the extent of Hephaestion's injuries and yet you did not intervene on his behalf. Instead you allowed it to continue; no doubt taking wagers on the nightly activities. How much was Hephaestion meant to suffer before you took pity on him and killed him?"
The foreman, wisely, said nothing. He continued to kneel silently, head bowed.
"Get this man gone from my sight before I kill him."
Alexander was a lion trapped in too small a cage. Pacing about with roiling, fluid movements, snarling and biting at anyone who stepped too close. It was impossible to tell when he would lash out, only that it was an inevitability. It was a relief when Perdiccas and Nearchus dragged the foreman off; one less helpless victim for Alexander's wrath.
Cleitus was attempting to once again calm Alexander when Timoleon, Philip's young servant, came sprinting over. His path took him directly to Alexander and though Ptolemy himself could not hear the message, its content was clear in the way Alexander bolted towards his tent.
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Alexander's abrupt entry did not surprise him in the least. Philip continued silently with his work, applying a fresh bandage to Hephaestion's abraded wrist. The man on the bed, however, flinched as much as his battered body would allow.
"Phae," Alexander gasped, dropping to his knees beside the bed.
There was a long pause and then the almost breathless whisper of, "Xan...."
As he tidied up, recorking jars and gathering up bits of bandages, Philip could not help but let his eyes wandering towards the young prince. The love that he could see shining in those wide gray eyes was enough to give even Eros himself pause.
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He came back. Alexander had come back for him. The hand upon his cheek was so gentle, so familiar. His eyes burned with the beginnings of tears, but he did not dare to blink them away. Even as his vision blurred, he could still feel Alexander's palm upon his cheek. Real. Solid.
"Hephaestion," Alexander sobbed, his breath a warm puff against his cheek. "Hephaestion."
The lips against his were wet and soft. Not savage or demanding. Comforting. Alexander's. Barely a touch. Hot, damp breath, wet snuffles, silent words murmured against his lips.
Alexander had come for him. He could rest.
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Hephaestion had been awake for only a few minutes, but those moments were enough to rebuild his wavering hopes. Until he had seen Hephaestion's eyes he had feared that his lover would never wake. Philip had told him that it was the first waking that was the hardest. Hephaestion's eyes may have opened the night before, but he had not spoken until the second when Alexander himself was awake. The whisper had been gasped out on a ragged breath, but it had been Hephaestion's voice.
"Rest easy now, Hephaestion," Alexander murmured against Hephaestion's lips, unable to draw away. "You will be avenged. Those who hurt you will be made to suffer. By my will if not my hand."
There was no response from Hephaestion—no sign that he had even heard the words –but for the time being Alexander was content to simply feel Hephaestion's breath upon his cheek. Breaths that were no longer ragged, but were instead deep and even. Hephaestion was recovering. And as soon as he was well enough to travel, Alexander meant to be gone from Illyria.
Winding his body protectively about Hephaestion's, Alexander began to recite lines from the Iliad in an effort to keep himself awake in case Hephaestion should wake again. And while he would rather have spoken of the love between Achilles and Patroclus, those lines temporarily evaded him.
He saw that Hector's armour
Of bronze covered him all the way, the beautiful
Gear he had stripped from mighty Patroclus when he
Cut him down. But there where the collarbones separate neck
And shoulders, there at his throat, most fatal of targets,
Appeared a spot unprotected by bronze. So there,
As on him he charged, great Achilles drove in his spear,
And the point went through his soft neck and stuck out behind.
The scene had played out in his mind more times than he could count. An image that had stuck with him since childhood of Achilles avenging the fallen Patroclus. Though now that it was time to avenge his own, Alexander found himself without a definitive foe. Hephaestion's injuries had been caused by more than one and he had not a single face to focus his anger on. Killing the foreman would appease his anger momentarily, but it would not sate it. Not until he was certain that all those who had hurt Hephaestion were dealt with. Until each one ceased to draw breath.
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Under the circumstances, Philip decided to ride out to Thermia to meet Amyntor's ship when it docked. It had been a few years since he had last seen the Athenian general, at least two years before Chaeronea. He knew just as certainly that it was Chaeronea that had brought father and son together for the last time. Hephaestion had been a part of Alexander's escort when the ashes of the fallen Athenians had been brought home. Now it was Amyntor who returned with the ashes of a Macedonian.
Though he was loathe to admit it, Philip had no answers to give the other man about his son. Only speculations. The coming days would tell whether Hephaestion continued to live. He had hoped that a messenger would have come from Illyria before Amyntor arrived from Athens. Were it his son that was missing, Philip would not stand to have no information. Even if it were Arrhidaeus that had been abducted he would tear apart all of Greece to find him. Were he to lose Alexander, however, the entire world would feel his wrath.
"Sire, there is word from Illyria!"
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The next time Hephaestion woke, Alexander managed to coax a bit of broth into him. It was only a few mouthfuls, but Philip had warned that Hephaestion would need to be eased back onto foods. It was a struggle for Alexander to abide by Philip's mandate because Hephaestion was so incredibly thin. The loss of so much muscle mass made Hephaestion look awkward and gawky in his large frame. Beyond that he looked utterly sickly and half-starved.
With the pad of his thumb, Alexander wiped away the thin residue of chicken broth from Hephaestion's lower lip. "You are looking better today, Phae. Much stronger. Philip is certain that within a few days you will be sitting up. It is strange that such a thing should seem so miraculous, but at times I still marvel over each breath you take. In all honesty there was a moment I truly believed you to be dead. I did not think that a man could be hurt as badly as you had and still continued to live. Yet you have. And it is a testimony to your strength. Because you are strong, Hephaestion. Stronger than any man I have ever known."
As he had for the past several days, Alexander spoke without thought, intending only to fill the silence while Hephaestion slept. He had hoped, though, for his words to have a positive effect. He wanted Hephaestion's sleep to be peaceful. His love had had so little rest in weeks and Alexander longed to give that to him since he could not ease Hephaestion's physical pains. It was therefore a knife to his gut every time Hephaestion's sleep was swallowed by dark dreams. He did what he could to gentle the injured man out of them, but for the most part they were unavoidable.
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The hands were all over every bit of him, tugging and clawing at him from every conceivable direction. So many hands that they blocked out all sources of light. All that he saw was darkness. Total and utter. And try as he did to cry out, he could not find his voice. The screams were loud as could be in his mind, but they went no further than that.
"Hephaestion!"
The hands all stilled at Alexander's shout. They continued to hold him immobile, but were no longer a single, undulating entity.
"I am right here, Phae. It is my hand that you feel."
The multitude of hands evaporated into a single hand, lightly cupping his cheek. The blankness was faded as well, consumed by a brightness that rivaled the sun.
"Xander...."
In the blink of an eye the formless light was replaced by a face.
"You got a little more of my name out that time," Alexander murmured, thumb stroking lightly over the top of his cheek.
Steeling himself, he breathed out, "Alexander," in a single breath.
The radiant smile that broke out upon Alexander's face then was certainly worth the exhausting effort it took to say. Alexander's face was so close to his own that it took only a small amount of careful nudging to brush his nose alongside his golden love's. Relaxing for a moment, he allowed his eyes to drift shut, basking in the peace and comfort that shone from Alexander like a beacon.
"Such a beautiful whore."
His eyes shot open at the sound of the voice that was most certainly not Alexander's and he found himself staring into the eyes of a living demon.
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Hephaestion woke with a gasp, his eyes open and darting about without truly seeing. Or so Alexander hoped because when Hephaestion's gaze locked on him he could see only fear in those ever expressive blue eyes.
"Hephaestion?" Alexander said quietly, not wanting to startle him. "Phae?"
His body rigid with fear, Hephaestion ground out, "You will not touch me."
Startled by the venom in the usually tranquil voice, Alexander's hand immediately dropped away from Hephaestion's cheek. A moment later, Hephaestion's eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out in sleep. Or perhaps, instead, simple unconsciousness.
Alexander himself was no so easily calmed.