Part IX
"I did not expect to see the king here," Seleucus said to no one in particular as he glanced towards Alexander's tent.
Across from him, Cleitus sliced a good-sized piece of meat from the boar roasting over their cook fire. "Philip told Amyntor that he would keep Hephaestion safe. The vow would not imply during battle, but Hephaestion was not taken during any battle. Whoever took Hephaestion did so for a reason."
Perdiccas looked up quickly from his own meal. "Surely you do not think someone did this intentionally to Hephaestion?"
"Why not?" Cleitus shrugged and took a bite of his meat, pushing it to the side of his mouth as he continued, "He has Athenian blood in him and the ear of Philip's most likely successor. Anyone with an interest in keeping Athens out of Macedon could want him removed. And now with his Macedonian mother dead he is as much a foreigner as the queen."
Ptolemy snarled, shaking his head. "By that logic Alexander himself will be a foreigner if the king dies before Olympias."
"It is only Alexander's mother that is foreign. For Hephaestion it is the opposite," Seleucus pointed out. "The blood of the father holds far more sway."
Swallowing, Cleitus nodded his head. "For Alexander's sake I hope that is true."
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Amyntor fervently willed away the sight before him. That wreck of a man could not be his beloved son. His strong, intelligent son brought so low by mere vermin. He would have thought the boy dead if not for the subtle way he turned his head into the prince's touch.
"I did not think you would come here," Alexander said, his eyes darting between them. "I had hoped that Hephaestion would have more of a chance to recover before you saw him."
"Who did this to him?" Philip demanded before he had a chance to.
Alexander's gaze immediately turned back to Hephaestion. "The lashes were given to him by the foreman, supposedly for killing a slave. The rest of it… I do not know. Hephaestion has not volunteered the information and I cannot stomach asking him to relive it all."
Slowly, Amyntor began to approach the cot where Hephaestion lay so still. Alexander's touch appeared to soothe him for the moment, but it did not detract from the fact that his son had suffered greatly. And all the while he had cursed the boy for dallying while his mother lay dying. Not even in his most horrific nightmares would he have imaged Hephaestion suffering to such an extent. Even what information the messenger had given him and Philip had not prepared him for the actual sight of his dear boy.
"Phae?" Alexander murmured, leaning in close.
Amyntor was near enough to see that Hephaestion had woken, eyes slitted open. His mother's eyes. Amyntor dropped to his knees at the head of the cot, his fingers sliding into his boy's cruelly shorn hair. And when Hephaestion tilted his head to see him, Amyntor could not stop his tears.
"Hephaestion," Amyntor moaned, blinking heavily to clear his vision. "My poor boy."
Hephaestion stared up at him in disbelief. "Father?" The word sounded rough and half-choked as it was gasped out; as though Hephaestion had screamed a great deal in the recent past.
Amyntor was vaguely aware of Philip ordering Alexander out of the tent, no doubt attempting to gather information Amyntor himself should have been looking for. At the moment, though, all that he could focus on was his son and thanked the gods that he continued to live.
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For all that Alexander resembled a kicked pup when he ordered him from the other boy's side, Philip pushed that away for the moment. Alexander would survive an hour or so away from Hephaestion; time that Amyntor needed with his son. Hephaestion might have been recovering physically, but there was no mistaking the haunted look he had seen in the boy's eyes.
"I have men searching for the Illyrian mercenaries," Philip said straight away. "Once they are found we will know who began this."
"I think Hephaestion knows," Alexander said so quietly that Philip would have thought he imagined the words had he not seen his son's lips move. "I think he knows, but he will not say. Earlier he all but confessed that he was purposely brought here."
The words should have reassured him. For if Hephaestion had been abducted deliberately it meant there was a perpetrator who could be brought to justice which would go a long way in easing all of their minds, Hephaestion's especially. Instead, the words sent a bolt of unease through Philip. Once again his mind strayed to the possibility that it had been Olympias who was behind it all. The woman would not stand to hold second place in their son's affections. And second was where she most assuredly was for nothing would sway Alexander from Hephaestion's side after this.
"Hephaestion has been seriously injured and is still gravely ill," Philip reminded Alexander, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "Likely his thoughts are quite out of sorts so wait a few more days before you heap such burdens upon yourself. Rejoice in the fact that he has survived."
Alexander's earlier expression was replaced by one which radiated fire. "Relieved as I am that Hephaestion lives, I still want to crucify the foreman and raze the entire complex into ashes with the men still inside. I would murder them all."
"And while that might comfort your own guilt, it would not ease Hephaestion any."
He seemed to have struck to the heart of it because Alexander's entire face crumpled. The boy did not give in entirely to his grief, but it was obvious enough upon his features. And for all of his experiences, Philip did not know how to heal such grief. Though they were still young, he could no longer doubt the strength of the love between his son and Amyntor's. That sentimental fool Lysimachus had been right to call them Achilles and Patroclus. Philip could only be grateful that they had not reached the end of their tale.
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By the time he returned to his tent, Hephaestion was asleep once again. Amyntor was seated next to his head, fingers smoothing absently through his hair. Alexander knew that he should give way to Hephaestion's father, but he felt uneasy so far from his love. He was barely five paces away and still it was too far. So instead he took up a position near Hephaestion's hip, placing a hand on his bent elbow and stroked the warm flesh lightly with his thumb. Hephaestion's arm twitched slightly but he did not pull away.
"Hephaestion would not say anything beyond that he was grateful the ordeal had ended," Amyntor said, breaking the silence for the first time. "Has he said anything to you, lad?"
Alexander watched Hephaestion's fingers curl slightly inwards. "No. I know what can be told from his injuries, but nothing beyond that. He refuses to speak when I attempt to mention it. I thought it best not to push the matter, not yet."
"Give the boy time. His mind is likely still at odds with the injuries done to his body," his father suggested as he picked up a half-full flagon of wine. "Once his mind clears he will begin to speak of it. On the 'morrow, however, I will be speaking to the foreman. I am certain I can convince him to supply me with some details."
As his father and Amyntor discussed their plans for the coming days, Alexander began to wonder if he truly did wish to know the details of Hephaestion's captivity. He did not doubt that it had been horrendous—Hephaestion's body bore witness to the atrocities –but unless speaking of it would help ease Hephaestion, Alexander found his determination wavering. He would see each of the villains who had harmed Hephaestion dead, but began to doubt the benefit of knowing their exact crimes. The simple truth was that regardless of the specific acts, in the end Hephaestion had been brought low and would need to spend a long time recovering.
"I need to speak with Cleitus," Philip said some time later, excusing himself.
Alone now with Hephaestion's father, Alexander felt his guilt magnified.
"You could not have foreseen this," Amyntor said just as Alexander opened his mouth to speak. "I saw the way you looked at Hephaestion when you were both in Athens after Chaeronea. You love him. Just as I know that Hephaestion loves you. You would not have knowingly allowed him into danger and so the blame cannot be laid at your feet. It belongs with those who did this to him."
"It still happened because of me. Because I love him," Alexander whispered, barely able to choke the words out.
Amyntor leaned forward and placed a hand under Alexander's chin, forcing him to raise his head. Once he was certain that he held the younger man's attention, he spoke.
"It is because my son loves you that he survived. Hephaestion survived all of this because he knew that you would be there at the end of it. I do not doubt for one moment that he held out so long because of you. And for that you have my gratitude."
To stunned to form a response, Alexander could only gape at the man seated before him. Amyntor meant to absolve him of all guilt. Guilt that Alexander would have gladly borne until the end of his days. He was fairly certain that his days were numbered in accordance with Hephaestion's own. It had seemed a slow death while waiting for news of his lover's fate.
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"She will not be pleased to hear that he has survived."
"It is her own foolishness that has kept him alive. It would have been better just to kill him."
"That may yet come."
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Fingers ghosting over his cheek were what slowly roused him to consciousness. Instantly knowing whose touch it was, he did not fight it, but instead turned into it. And was rewarded with a pair of lips pressed to his temple. He slitted his eyes open and saw a hand resting close to his own. With an extreme force of will, he managed to curl his fingers overtop of them. He could almost feel the warmth from those fingers infusing him with the heat he was so desperately missing.
"The sun shines from within you."
Turning his hand over, Alexander twined their fingers together, squeezing lightly. Alexander ducked his head down to catch sight of his eyes. He tried to close his eyes and hide from that intense gaze only to have Alexander's thumb gently stroke under his left eye, silently pleading for him not to look away. He could never deny Alexander.
"Fire and water temper each other," Alexander murmured, continuing to stroke his cheek. "If I have the light of the sun within me then you possess the strength of the oceans. I see it there whenever I look into your eyes."
His vision blurred and he desperately began to shake his head, denying Alexander's words. He was weak. Alexander thought him strong because he had lived through the mines. His body continued to function, but soon enough he would finally be able to rest. He would return to Athens with his father and it would be simple enough to find and end there. Alexander would be in Pella, too far away to stop him.
He could only hope that one day Alexander would understand and forgive him.
"Did you want to try and sit up?" Alexander asked a few minutes later when he did not respond. "Nearchus brought some food in just before you woke and you look as though you could do with a good meal. It will help strengthen you." The fingers that had been caressing his face moved into his hair and Alexander grinned softly. "There is even chicken, brought especially for you."
Though he did not think that he could stomach any food just then, he allowed Alexander to help prop him up. He even managed a few bites of food which surprised him. Alexander feeding him the strips of chicken himself was a definite incentive. He could almost pretend that his entire body did not continue to throb dully, the lashes on his back radiating fire if he moved incorrectly. He tried to hide those sudden flashes of pain from Alexander, but could not contain a sudden indrawn gasp after one.
"You are exhausted and I am only forcing you awake longer," Alexander said quietly, setting the plate aside. "Come, lie down."
He was confused when Alexander laid down on the narrow camp cot, uncertain of what his intentions were. Then Alexander was guiding him into his arms, spreading his legs so that he could lie comfortably atop him. His body instinctively molded itself to Alexander's, relishing the warmth he was able to soak up from his love. Alexander's hands fumbled for a few moments before lighting upon his sides, fingers stroking gently.
"I want to be gone from here," he whispered, pressing his face into Alexander's chest and exhaling a shuddering breath. "I want to be far from this place."
"Soon," Alexander said into his hair. "Philip insists on a few more days before you travel."
"And if I can never leave it?"
Alexander did not respond immediately, no doubt aware of what he was truly speaking of. Instead, Alexander brought a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and coaxing him into raising his head. Even then he seemed to stumble slightly, searching for the words.
"You are Hephaestion," he said at last, lifting his head so that their forehead connected. "Regardless of whatever happened, you are still Hephaestion. They cannot destroy that or take it from you."
He opened his mouth to deny the words, but Alexander stopped them by pressing their mouths together. It was not much more than a touching of their lips, but he could not stop his hands clutching at Alexander's upper arms. His breath mingled with Alexander's and for all that he tried, he could not pull away.
"You are still Hephaestion," Alexander whispered against his lips.
For a moment he could almost believe the words.