Charilus looked to Hephaistion. "He liked what he saw."

"He liked what he heard," Diomache said.

"Get Alexander close and then it is an easier thing to sheath the dagger in his heart," Laterides said.

Diomache put his hand to his mouth as he coughed. "Not at the banquet, not when we are there."

Laterides went over to Hephaistion. "When the time is right that is when we will leave you. Kill the tyrant, Alexander, and your honour will be redeemed."

"I know. You have told me often enough," Hephaistion said, " but I will not seduce the man to get close."

"You think you can get close any other way?" Laterides snapped. "He was just with two companions but did you not see how he was guarded by them? You think you could make a move to do Alexander harm and not be cut down before your hand closed around the dagger's hilt?"

"He looked at you," Charilus said, "I could see he was attracted to you, Hephaistion...any man would be, even a king."

"I don't want him," Hephaistion replied.

"Oh yes you do," Laterides spat, "you want him close."

"Trembler," Diomache said.

Hephaistion wanted to go, to find a place alone, but he would not allow himself to move. He stood his ground and waited until the three men had finished their harangue and moved back in to the house before he went upstairs to take his place on the balcony once more, to watch life going on without him, to see two boys having fun, unaware of how the fates could change everything.

OOXXOO

"Would we really want Spartans going with us to Persia?" Craterus asked, as they arrived back at the palace.

"It would appeal to Alexander's romantic notions," Ptolemy said, grinning to the man he spoke about.

"Their days of glory have gone," noted Craterus.

"I have been to Thermopylae," Alexander said, "I saw the hot gates and pictured the scene, admired Leonidas' audacity, his bravery. If those three hundred men still lived today I would have no hesitation."

Alexander did not miss the look Craterus gave to Ptolemy before he spoke again.

"There was the man our age who has Leonidas' blood, but no doubt diluted over time, he is no king, that is for sure."

Alexander stopped walking and turned to Craterus. "No doubt men took the throne, as my father took the throne from my cousin. It is sometimes the best for the kingdom to do that. If I left an heir and then was killed in Persia someone would take his place."

"Antipater would," Ptolemy assured him.

"Antipater has ambitious sons. Do you think he would wait for a son of mine to be old enough to rule? And who is to say it is Anitpater? It could well be Parmenion."

"A civil war would erupt," Craterus agreed.

"Don't die, Alexander," smiled Ptolemy placing his hand on the king's shoulder.

"I'll try not to," Alexander grinned. "Come on, let's hope our baths are ready."

OOXXOO

Hephaistion wondered if the people in the crowded hall could tell that the three men he was with thought little of him, or if the new red cloak he wore, the one he had been given for the journey, made him appear accepted. He decided on the latter, though if truth be told nobody gave them much consideration as they picked their way across the room to the only two dining couches that were unoccupied.

Diomache was complaining that he had expected a more intimate dinner than this and gave a sour look as Laterides and Charilus sat together on a couch. He pushed by Hephaistion and sat down, turning his back and attempting to start a conversation with his other two conspirators.

Apparently, when Philip was alive, the banquets at Pella were known for their drunkeness and debauchery. Although the room was full, all seemed sober enough. Unseen musicians played, serving girls went unmolested, friends were reuniting, catching up on gossip, concluding deals.

There was a momentary hush as Alexander entered the hall, with about ten companions following him, to take his place at the top couches, on a raised area so he could be seen by all. Hephaistion took off the red cloak, the room was hot, he folded it and placed it beside him then looked around the room, to the walls and their wonderful paintings.

He had been raised to be a soldier. There was a time when every Spartan was. Yet he appreciated art and philosophy and if Alexander were a tyrant he was a cultured one, tutored by Aristotle himself, raised in Pella where his father, Philip, encouraged the arts, when he was not fighting battles to leave a legacy for his son. He seemed to have inspired loyalty from an early age too, a man he had spoken to in the market, earlier that day, had happily told him stories of Alexander.

A servant brought wine, another food, placing it on a low table before them before hurrying on their way. Hephaistion picked up his cup and looked at the contents, moving the cup so that the wine span inside, red like blood.

"Spartan!"

Hephaistion looked up to see a man his age, sitting with a group of friends, grinning over at him, beckoning to him.

"Come join us, leave the old men to their talk," the stranger laughed.

Forcing a smile, Hephaistion shook his head and looked back to the wine.

"Spartan!"

With a sigh he looked back again.

"I am Themistocles and I would like to know you better if I could."

The group of friends laughed at his comment, making remarks which made Themistocles flush but still he went on. "I heard that Spartans have male lovers, I would volunteer to be yours...if none of the old men have claimed you as their own."

"None here," Hephaistion replied, looking up and in to Themistocles' brown eyes, "and none shall".

Themistocles friends groaned as if in sympathy for their companion, one wrestled with him briefly and no more was said as they turned their attentions to a serving girl who had brought more wine.

Hephaistion looked over to Alexander who was deep in conversation with a man who had accompanied him to the house the day before. He noticed that though he held a cup of wine he did not drink from it so often, and while his companions ate their fill he touched nothing. While he looked Alexander turned his head and met his gaze, then stood, putting down the cup of wine and made his way alone to where he sat.

Diomache stood, signalling unnecessarily, that they all should stand, then bow as Alexander approached.

"Do you have all you need?" Alexander asked. "Sit down, we can talk a little."

It seemed as if Diomache intended the king to sit by him but Alexander chose instead to sit beside Hephaistion, leaving Charilus and Laterides to turn their couch so that they could join in a conversation without straining to hear.

Alexander's right arm brushed against Hephaistion's left and although he seemed oblivious to it Hephaistion felt every movement. Had it been so long since he had felt the simplest contact? The surgeon who treated his wound had done so with disdain, only touching when he needed to, as though he might be contaminated with fear. None since. No touch since then Hephaistion realised and he turned to look to the man beside him as though he had never seen him before.

He was handsome, his golden hair shining in the light of the hall, his skin slightly ruddy but not unattractive. Alexander spoke quickly, his face animated, intelligent grey eyes shining, a strong brow, straight nose and perfect lips. He dressed well, his honed physique not hidden by the cloth but highlighted by it.

Seeing Alexander turn to look at him, Hephaistion took an interest in the wine. Here was the man he had come to kill, that he could take his dagger and slaughter now, if he had not promised the others that they would be safely away before he brought death to the king.

"I was hoping to have a chance with him!"

Alexander laughed and Hephaistion looked up to see Themistocles speaking once more.

"When do you have a chance with anyone?" Alexander replied.

Themistocles friends laughed.

"Wine makes him brave," said one.

"That is why he drinks before battle," said Alexander, smiling to Hephaistion.

"Hephaistion fights in our cavalry," Charilus said, quickly.

"I wonder what Leonidas would have thought of that?"Alexander mused.

Hephaistion took a drink of wine, it freed him from replying though he was aware that Alexander was studying him now.

"I know what it is like, to feel alone," the king whispered before turning back to Charilus. "So, do you plan to send cavalry?"

They were all lies that Diomache, Laterides and Charilus spoke, they had no authority to promise anything, all that they brought was death. Alexander spoke enthusiastically of his intentions to go to Persia not knowing that, like his father, the plans might come to nothing, that the fates had other plans. The words from Delphi could not be ignored but Hephaistion wondered why the task had fallen to him. Laterides began to live past glories as Alexander encouraged him to speak, listening with interest and questioning any point that he had misunderstood. He did not seem a tyrant and that began to rankle Hephaistion, for a moment wondering why he should have agreed to kill when all he wanted was his own death.

"I will go riding at dawn, Hephaistion. My companions and I would be happy to have you join us if you wish," Alexander said, before getting to his feet.

"He will be happy to," said Charilus. Alexander frowned.

"I know Spartans are known to be laconic but does Hephaistion have no voice at all?"

"I have a voice," Hephaistion said, "I speak when there is something to say."

Grinning as though he had won a victory Alexander left them, walking back to his companions and lying on a couch, taking wine from a servant.

"Go with them in the morning. Take it as a chance to get close to the king but do nothing."

"Not until you are safe. I know," Hephaistion replied and studied the wine once more.