THE CHOICE

Chapter One

"You choose."

Hephaistion looked up from his cup of wine. "I can't choose."

"Why should what I do be any better than what you can do?" Alexander asked, looking to his closest companion.

Hephaistion smiled then shook his head. "Because you are Alexander," he stated.

"Cleitus, Parmenion, Philotas, even Ptolemy would grasp the opportunity without question."

Alexander sighed and stood up, wandering over to the window so that he could gaze on Sidon, his latest conquest, taken all too easily. He turned his head and smiled as Hephaistion came over to join him.

"At Troy you honoured me, showing all that if you were the new Achilles then I was your Patroclus. That is enough." Hephaistion finished his wine and left the cup on the window ledge.

"We dreamed of this Hephaistion, right from when we were boys with wooden swords, we held onto that dream, the two of us."

Hephaistion nodded for he could scarcely deny the truth of Alexander's words.

"If I let Parmenion choose the new King to rule here, then it will feed his vanity. Ptolemy would think that I held him in greater regard than I do, he is a good friend but no better than my other companions."

A smile lit Hephaistion's face and for a moment Alexander basked in the astonishing beauty of the man before him, a beauty that went further than skin deep. His trustworthy, loyal, understanding, friend and lover. He leaned forward to claim a kiss.

Hephaistion responded but then pulled back laughing, taking the cup and walking back into the centre of the room to where a jug of wine stood, lifting it and filling his cup once more. "And that is why I cannot choose."

Alexander feigned surprise, stepping away from the window, holding out his hands from his side in mock innocence. "So you will refuse my wishes to keep others content?" he queried. "Why should you not receive titles and be granted honours?"

Hephaistion groaned and sat down. "Parmenion thinks it should be Ethbaal because he seems to have an understanding of what would be needed from any King of Sidon."

"Ethbaal is too ambitious for himself, he'd take from the people the moment we moved on and make promises to my enemies if it suited him."

"And this is why you should choose," replied Hephaistion. "You have always been able to see beyond any facade."

"Something my mother taught me," Alexander said, laughing as Hephaistion's wine seemed to go sour and he abandoned it. "She was always so fond of you."

"As a lion might be fond of a lamb," Hephaistion retorted.

"You are no lamb," Alexander said, softly, taking a seat beside his lover.

"Cleitus wants Zimredda to be King," continued Hephaistion, putting his hand up to grasp Alexander's chiton in an attempt to get the King before him to listen.

"A poor choice," Alexander whispered, leaning forward to kiss Hephaistion's neck. "And what of Ptolemy?"

"Abimilku," Hephastion replied, suddenly wondering why it mattered when he was finally alone with Alexander and it had been too long.

Chapter Two

Philotas walked into his father's quarters, helped himself to a bunch of grapes on a silver tray, then walked through to where his father was bathing and took a seat on a richly carved stool. Plucking at the grapes he then said, "It will not be Ethbaal who rules."

Parmenion took a moment to absorb this information and signalled for the page who had been attending him to leave. He waited until they were alone before he spoke.

"Where did you hear this?"

"From Seleucus, who heard it from Ptolemy, who was told by Alexander.

Parmenion spat into the water. "Did he say who would be King?"

Philotas put three grapes into his mouth, ate them at his leisure and then replied. "Hephaistion will choose."

Parmenion shook his head, reached for a towel and stepped from his bath, drying himself. "Why is it always Hephaistion?"

Philotas shrugged. "Alexander has never truly thought of me as a friend, you know that. Just with his father valuing you as his General he had to spend time with me, including me in what he does".

Parmenion grunted, dropped the towel and left the bathroom to go to his bed and take the clean chiton the page had left for him, putting it on.

"Ethbaal had everything required. Sidon would have been left in safe hands and yet Alexander chooses never to listen to me."

"Because his father trusted you and Alexander much prefers to choose his own generals."

Parmenion looked to his son, letting his words sink in. "True enough, his resentment of me can only be because I remind him of the times that Philip and I conquered. I always knew he could not wait for his chance and now he is trying to prove himself better than his father."

"He is better than his father." Philotas tossed away the stalk that the grapes had been attached to. "He conquered Greece and is now claiming back the land taken by Persia, he wants to defeat Darius…the Persian King is a coward who runs, then who knows where Alexander will go."

Parmenion spat again. "He could have achieved nothing if Philip of Macedon was not the King he was. Philip built an army of professional soldiers, not Alexander."

Philotas seemed to be regretting bringing his father the news. He sat silent, he had heard his father talk this way many times before. How he had wanted Philip to take another wife and have another son that would not be under Olympias' spell, listening to her venomous talk about her husband. Philp was dead, assassinated at Aegae and Alexander, far from home, was free of his mother's spiteful tongue and seemed better for it.

"Cleitus will not see Zimredda on the throne," he said tentatively.

"One consolation," his father agreed, then paused. "Go find out where Hephaistion is, perhaps you might be able to persuade him that he should be looking to Ethbaal."

Philotas stood, initially happy to be excused but then reluctant to find his nemesis. "You think that Hephaistion has ever listened to me?" He laughed. "I will go and try, as you wish, father but do not expect me to return with good news."

He embraced his father and left the room, finding his way through the unfamiliar building until he was back out onto the street. It seemed to be the way his life would be now, spent in lands he was not familiar with, different cultures and days upon horseback, ever moving on.

Along the streets were soldiers of Alexander's army, enjoying their leisure, playing dice, drinking wine, calling to the women of Sidon to spend time with them. He looked around for any of Hephaistion's men, thinking if he found them then he might locate his quarry. None were to be found so he went to fetch his horse, knowing he could cover more ground by riding.

Once on horseback he went to find out where Alexander was as you could lay odds that Hephaistion would be beside him. However, Alexander was apparently sleeping and alone, according to a page, so it became a mystery as to where Hephaistion might be found.

He found Cleitus easily enough by the sound of his laughter and as he looked in the direction of that the man himself appeared in the company of four of his men that Philotas recognised and nodded to.

"We are off to wrestle," Cleitus said, "why not come along with us if you have money to wager?"

"I have money," Philotas replied, "but I am not fool enough to waste it betting against you Cleitus".

Cleitus laughed, louder than before and reached up to drag Philotas from his horse, ruffling his hair. He leaned close and whispered in Philotas' ear, "I have four young fools who think they can win, so you need not lighten your purse".

Philotas looked to the four men who all gazed towards Cleitus, like well trained dogs awaiting a command. He brushed off a farewell embrace from Cleitus and then leapt back onto his horse.

From this vantage point he saw Seleucus and rode over to him. He was not fond of the man, he was amongst one of Alexander's closest companions but they had never quarrelled. Philotas also knew that he was fond of wrestling and if he was to spend coins on a wager he would put his money on the brown haired man before him.

"Seleucus!" he called out as if greeting a dear friend. "I just saw Cleitus," he said, pointing in the direction that he had gone. "He's gone to wrestle and picked four men who seem to have no idea how good he is."

"I've never been beaten by him," Seleucus replied, slapping Philotas in the chest.

Philotas looked at the man before him, he was short and stocky, the build that was supposed to make a good wrestler. "Cleitus wanted me to wager but there would be no point."

"There would be now,"Seleucus laughed.

"I was looking for Hephaistion."

"He's not with Alexander?"

Philotas shook his head. "Alexander is still sleeping."

Seleucus thought for a moment and then pointed down the street. "He will be in the gardens I think. He was there yesterday."

"Where are they?" Philotas thought it an odd place to be and looked to Seleucus as if believing that it was a joke.

"Keep riding straight and you will come to them," Seleucus said quickly, running off in pursuit of Cleitus.

Philotas rode along the busy street, past market traders, through crowds of people, until the way became less congested and traders gave way to ramshackle houses, then to a large garden, like an unexpected oasis. Hephaistion was there with one of the gardeners.

Jumping down from his horse, Philotas led it along and realised that Hephaistion was actually assisting the gardener in watering the plants and he could not help but wonder why, of all places he could be, he was here.

Hephaistion saw him and seemed to also be wondering what he was doing there but did not ask the question. "It is like Midas," he observed, instead.

Philotas nodded, looking around at how green it was like the place they were taught by Aristotle, the Sanctuary of Nymphs. "I came to talk with you," he said.

"Then talk," replied Hephaistion, not stopping his task.

With a look to the gardener, he hesitated. "Shall we go sit in the shade?"

"What can't be said here?" Hephaition queried.

Silence fell and then Hephaistion asked the gardener how soon the plants they were watering could be harvested. The gardener replied that it would be some time yet but that other crops would be ready for harvest soon and that there would be food for the people of Sidon throughout the year. Hephaistion then asked if the crop was able to be stored.

"Hephaistion!" Losing his patience, feeling as if Hephaistion should understand the trouble he had gone to find him, appreciate that and leave what he was doing to step into the shade, he could not hide his annoyance.

Hephaistion looked at him. "Is it that urgent that you talk to me?"

"I didn't think that a gardener would be more important to talk to," Philotas replied.

Philotas noticed that the gardener did not look up from his work, knowing his place. Hephaistion actually excused himself as though he was lesser than the man and walked over to some olive trees. Philotas followed, realising that any conversation might not go so well now that he had shown his petulant side.

"I hear that Alexander has given you the task of choosing a King to govern Sidon," he said, taking a breath after as his voice still showed some irritation.

"Are you suggesting that you want the role?" Hephaistion asked.

"No…no, not at all," Philotas blustered then paused to gather himself before he confessed that he thought Hephaistion not up to the mission given him. "You know that my father believes that Ethbaal would be the best choice?"

"I do," Hephaistion said.

"My father has a lot of experience…"

"In choosing Kings?"

"In choosing men fit for the job," Philotas snapped back, biting down on his lip after he spat the words out to stop more from spilling from his mouth.

"Your father sent you here," stated Hephaistion. "You are ever the dutiful son, Philotas."

"You know how much Philip valued him," Philotas replied, "Alexander does not listen to his advice because he thinks it will make him too much like his father if he takes counsel from my father."

"Alexander knows his own mind," Hephaistion said, not showing any irritation but stating it as a fact.

"He listens to you." Philotas felt envy rising up, almost choking him. He had tried for years to gain favour from Alexander but all had come to nothing, it had always been Hephaistion from their childhood.

"He listens to all of his companions." Hephaistion watched the gardener who had gone to fetch more water, watching him walk the well-worn path amongst the fruit and vegetables. "What would you rather have, Philotas? A simple life, unknown and untroubled or a rich life with all that that entails?"

"If I wanted a simple life then I would have stayed at Pella," Philotas replied. "Life is simple enough now," he added, "Sidon opened its gates, like others. Leave Ethbaal to rule it and all will be well when we move on."

"Why Ethbaal?" asked Hephaisiton.

Philotas had no idea why it should be Ethbaal except for the fact that his father said that it should. He did not want to show his ignorance. "He has the most experience," he said, guessing he was right.

"He is not popular. Talk to the people here, Philotas and you will see why Ethbaal is not the best candidate."

Philotas looked over to the gardener, pointing towards him. "You go by what he says?"

"What other people say. Ethbaal's ambitions stop here."

Hephaistion gave him a look which Philotas knew meant that it was the end of the discussion. Then he walked back over to the gardener. Philotasd hesitated, wondering if he could think of something that might persuade Hephaistion to change his mind, then he leapt up onto his horse and rode back to tell his father that he had not been successful.

Chapter Three

A few days later Ptolemy and Seleucus discovered that they were the first to arrive to dine, making their way along stone steps and hallways to a large room that had been adapted for such a purpose. None of the grandeur of Pella but they had long since accepted the change.

"I'm starving," Seleucus said, as he smelt the roasting meat and his belly rumbled. He sat at a table as if that might bring the food quicker.

Ptolemy joined him and reached for a jug of wine pouring them both a cup of it. The wine in Sidon was of good quality and plentiful.

A page led in some nobles from Sidon, who bowed towards the two of them, then spoke amongst themselves obviously arguing about where they should sit. Ethbaal entered the room alone and went over to them, deciding to sit opposite Ptolemy and Seleucus but abstaining from the wine as if they thought it impolite to drink before Alexander, their host, arrived.

Cleitus walked in with Perdiccas and sat with them, seeming to have already drunk plenty of the wine as his face was red and his voice was loud. Perdiccas put his arms around his shoulders and told him that he should be quiet.

Parmenion and Philotas entered then and seemed disgruntled that no seats close to where Alexander would be were available. Parmenion called to one of the pages who fetched stools and placed them at the front so that father and son were satisfied. Parmenion that his seniority within the army was shown and Philotas because he would sit closer to Alexander than any of the companions…except for Hephaistion.

Invited guests were still arriving when Alexander and Hephaistion walked into the room heading over to two couches that had been placed at the head of it. Not that Alexander was averse to sitting at a table and eating whatever was served but there was an air of expectancy that Hephaistion had made his decision. Parmenion leaned forward to talk to Alexander.

Once the room was full and the food ready to serve it was Hephaistion, not Alexander who got to his feet. He smiled at Alexander who nodded to him.

"I was given the honour of choosing a new King for Sidon by Alexander. A task which I gave great consideration to as when we move south towards Tyre we need to know that Sidon will be left in safe hands."

"Zimredda," Cleitus called out, looking for the man and holding up his cup in a toast to him when he found him seated at the back of the room. Once again Perdiccas silenced the man.

"I talked to several people and asked if there was any member of the Royal family of Sidon still living. They directed me to the gardens where a man called Abdalonymus was working. Having talked with him I now nominate Abdalonymus to have his rank restored and be King of Sidon."

Hephaistion fell silent, holding out his left hand and a hush fell over the room as Abdalonymus entered. Not in workman's clothing but dressed as a King should be with the royal crown and robes, for Hephaistion had thought to not have him appear as he was but as he would be.

Lacking confidence at first Abdalonymus inhaled deeply and then found his courage, walking past nobles, Macedons and Greeks to Alexander. Hephaistion signalled for him to sit upon the other couch.

Alexander glanced to Hephaisiton his face showing his approval and said, "I wish to know how he bore his poverty," apparently discerning in him an aspect not unworthy of his origin.

Abdalonymus paused for a moment in consideration of what his response might be. "Would to heaven I may as well bear my prosperity! These hands have ministered to all my necessities, and as I possessed nothing, I wanted nothing."

Alexander stood and took Abdalonymus' hand, proclaiming him the King of Sidon.

Philotas looked to his father who was a stranger to loss in battle. He noticed how he clutched at his cup of wine but smiled and then cheered with others to mask his disappointment. He looked to the gardener, now King, so different from the man covered in dirt that he had seen. Washed and perfumed, no doubt at Hephaistion's bidding.

The celebration feast began, Alexander talking to Abdalonymus while his arm was draped around Hephaistion. They laughed together, making plans, talking of the future until the light of dawn appeared.

"It was a good choice," Alexander said as they made their way to bed.

"None you could not have made yourself," Hephaistion replied.

"Ah but you too are Alexander," came the response.

He embraced his friend and lover, guiding him to his rooms, past the guards and closing the door.

EPILOGUE

Years later, Abdalonymus came to where his stone sarcophagus was being carved, the stonemasons stepping back as the King came to inspect the progress of the work.

His hand traced the carving, a tear rolling down upon his cheek as he looked to Alexander riding Bucephalus in battle. Alexander was now dead from a fever. Word had just come from Babylon.

He told himself that Alexander would now be reunited with Hephaistion who had died six months before. So vital to each other he could only imagine the grief that Alexander had suffered to lose the man he loved and trusted the most.

Fingers sliding over the stone he came to the central carved figure, that of Hephaistion, the man to whom he owed his new life to. The man who found him weeding in the garden, whose faith restored his title, wealth and lands. "He too was Alexander," he murmured.

He turned to face the stonemasons. "I am more than pleased with what you have done," he said, smiling at them before he walked away. He would never forget them and the sarcophagus would forever recall the brilliance of Alexander the Great and his Hephaisiton.