Ptolemy and his men arrived at the confluence camp and were immediately bombarded with rumors of Alexander's death. After giving orders to the men and making sure everything was under control, Ptolemy set out in search of Hephaestion. He found him in his tent.
Hephaestion's guards at first did not want to let him enter, as the General had given orders that he did not wish to be disturbed. Upon hearing Ptolemy's voice, however, Hephaestion called out to them. "Let him enter."
Ptolemy was stunned by what he saw. Hephaestion's tent was in total disarray. The normally neatly organized general had papers strewn all about his desk and on the floor. A clay jar had been thrown against the pole in the center of the tent, judging from the wine stains on the pole and the shards of broken pottery on the floor around it.
Hephaestion himself looked awful. He looked thin and pale. His normally glossy long hair was tangled and looked dirty, and his clothes were dusty and looked slept-in. His eyes were the worst of it. They were red-rimmed and looked hollow and devoid of life.
Hephaestion looked up from his papers, a tiny spark of hope appearing in his eyes. "Ptolemy, tell me you have news of Alexander!"
His hope died quickly when Ptolemy shook his head sadly. "No, Hephaestion. I've only just arrived, and heard the men talking about Alexander. They are saying he was shot, that he may be dead." He shook his head again, this time in disbelief. "Tell me this isn't true, Hephaestion!"
Hephaestion swallowed hard and looked away, willing himself not to break down. "I would that I could, Ptolemy. I know nothing more. We received word from a royal messenger nearly a week ago that Alexander had been shot and was clinging to life. The rumors have it that he may even be dead. We've heard nothing since then."
Ptolemy was in shock, and he didn't really know what to say. "Hephaestion…" he began.
Hephaestion looked up, catching Ptolemy's eye. This was one of few people he could trust. "What am I to do?" he interrupted. "Alexander can't be dead. The men all think it. The generals are fighting amongst themselves over what to do. Craterus is trying to take over command, even though Alexander left me in charge. He has several of the others on his side. Nearchus and Medius are trying to hold things together with the others. The men are confused and worried. Thanks to Craterus and Eummenes, half of them don't trust me to lead them, if it comes to that. Morale is non-existent. I spend my days trying to put out fires, but each time I do twenty more spring up in its place." He rubbed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands. He looked up again with such a look of sorrow that it nearly brought Ptolemy to tears. "Ptolemy, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
Ptolemy frowned, not at all surprised to hear about Craterus and his efforts to overthrow Hephaestion. "I don't know, Hephaestion, but you know you have my support. I will do all that I can to help and keep things calm." He looked Hephaestion over briefly. "How are you holding up, my friend? If I may say so, you look like shit.
"If you want the truth, I am not doing very well" Hephaestion stated. "I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, and I have to be on constant alert. I still have my duties regarding the Malians to attend to, plus all the administrative duties I normally have. All that, and now I'm struggling to prevent a mutiny! I have no time to grieve, even if the rumor is true. If I showed myself to be vulnerable, they would rip me to pieces." He stood and slammed his fist down on the desk. "I should have been there, Ptolemy! I should have been at his side. I could have protected him! I would have taken that arrow instead of him. He would be alive and all would be well!" His voice rose as anger and fear filled him.
Ptolemy moved towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hephaestion, you probably couldn't have stopped him if you had been there. You know Alexander! He throws caution to the wind. You know as well as I that he is rash and impulsive sometimes, and he seems to think he is invincible. I am not sure what happened this time, but I doubt you could have prevented it."
Hephaestion shook his head, quite agitated. "Still, If I'd been there…"
His words were interrupted by his page Damon stumbling into his tent. The boy bent over, trying to catch his breath. He'd obviously been running. "Commander, sir…" he panted, "a messenger…a messenger has arrived from King Alexander's camp. He is on his way here."
Hephaestion was immediately on edge, a chill running up his spine despite the heat of the day. He wasn't sure if the news would be good, or if it would bring his world crashing down around him.
"Ptolemy, would you please gather the others? Have them all meet in the council tent. Damon? Take the messenger there as well. I will be right behind you."
After the others had left he offered a quick prayer to any gods that would listen. Alexander had to be alright, or the furies themselves would be unleashed. He dressed quickly in a clean chiton and threw his red cloak over his shoulders, knowing all eyes would be on him. Whatever he did or said in this meeting could either unite them, or destroy them all. He took a deep breath and left his tent, still praying that the news was good.