Fire From Heaven (46 page)

Gladly as Philotas would have removed Hephaistion, he had not named him; neither justice nor kindness, but an ineradicable fear, had held his hand. The King for his part had never thought Hephaistion dangerous in himself. Though it was certain that, at the pinch, there was nothing he would not do for Alexander, he was worth taking a risk on. This was the one pardon which would disoblige Olympias. It had another use, besides.

‘Concerning Hephaistion son of Amyntor,’ he said, taking his time, ‘I have considered that matter by itself.’ He paused again, while something within him, between contempt and deep secret envy, thought, The man does not live I could feel that for, or the woman either. ‘You will not pretend, I take it, that he was not told your plans, or that he refused assent to them.’

In the distant voice of great pain, Alexander said, ‘He disagreed, but I overbore him.’

‘So? Well, be that as it may, I take into account that placed as he is, he could not escape blame either by keeping your counsel or revealing it.’ His voice was dry, putting Hephaistion where he belonged. ‘Therefore, at present I have exempted him from exile. If he gives you more good advice, you will do well to take it, both for your own sake and for his. For I am saying this before a witness, in case you should dispute it later: if you are found again in treasonable conspiracy, I shall consider him a party to it, both by knowledge and consent. I shall accuse him before the Assembly of the Macedonians, and ask them for his death.’

Alexander answered, ‘I have heard you. You need not have brought a witness.’

‘Very well. Tomorrow, if your friends have taken themselves off, I will dismiss the guard. Today you can give thought to your life. It is more than time.’

He turned. The guard outside presented arms. Philotas, leaving after him, had meant to look back at Alexander with discreet support and a meaning indignation. But at the last, he went out with averted face.

Ê

Days passed; Alexander, now he was about again, found his following well sifted. It can cost too much to be in fashion, even for the young. The chaff was all winnowed out now. The solid grain remained. He took note of these faithful ones; they were never forgotten.

A few days later, he was sent for to the small audience room. The message only said that the King required his presence.

Philip was in his chair of state, with an officer of justice, some clerks, and a number of litigants waiting audience. Without speaking, he motioned his son to a seat below the dais, and went on dictating a letter.

Alexander stood a moment, then sat down. Philip said to the guard at the door, ‘They can bring him in.’

A four-man guard brought in Thettalos. His hands and his legs were fettered. He walked forward with the heavy shuffling gait imposed by the leg-irons. His wrists had raw bloody sores, from the rubbing of the bracelets.

He was unshaven and unkempt, but he kept his head well up. His bow to the King was not more, nor less respectful than if he had been a guest. He made another to Alexander; his eyes held no reproach?.

‘So you are here,’ said the King grimly. ‘If you were an honest man, you would have come to give account of your embassy. And if you were a wise one, you would have run further than to Corinth.’

Thettalos inclined his head. ‘So it seems, King. But I like to fulfil my contracts.’

‘It is a pity, then, that your sponsors will be disappointed. You will give your last show in Pella. And you will give it alone.’

Alexander stood up. Everyone looked at him; they could see now why he was there.

‘Yes,’ said the King. ‘Let Thettalos see you. He owes his death to you.’

Alexander said in a high taut voice, ‘He is an artist of Dionysos, his person is sacred.’

‘He should have kept to his art.’ Philip nodded to the officer of justice, who began to write something.

‘He’s a Thessalian,’ Alexander said.

‘He is a citizen of Athens these twenty years. After the peace was signed he has acted as my enemy. He has no rights, and he knows it.’

Thettalos looked, with an almost imperceptible shake of the head, at Alexander; but his eyes were fixed on the King.

‘If he has his deserts,’ Philip said, ‘he will hang tomorrow. If he wants clemency, he must ask me for it. And so must you.’

Alexander stood rigid, holding an indrawn breath. Everyone’s eyes were on him. He took a step towards the throne.

With a clank, Thettalos advanced one weighted foot. It brought him into the pose of heroic fortitude beloved of audiences. Every eye was drawn his way.

‘Let me answer for it all. One should not exceed one’s instructions. I was officious in Karia. Rather than your son, I will ask Sophokles to be my pleader.’ He brought both hands forward in a classic movement which also, to the best advantage, displayed his sores. There was a faint shocked murmur. He had been oftener crowned than any Olympic victor, and Greeks who had scarcely seen a theatre knew his name. In his resonant voice which could have reached an audience of twenty thousand, now pitched perfectly to the room, he delivered his supplication.

The lines were fairly appropriate; not that it mattered. It was an exhibition piece. Its real meaning was, ‘Oh, yes, I know who you are. And you know who I am. Isn’t it time to end the comedy?’

Philip narrowed a hard black eye. The message was understood. He was quite startled to see his son, blazing with controlled emotion, come out and stand by the actor’s side.

‘Certainly, sir, I will ask clemency for Thettalos. It would be far more shameful not to. He has risked his life for me; I shall not grudge him a little of my pride. Please pardon him; all the fault was mine. And you, Thettalos, please forgive me.’

Thettalos with his fettered hands made a gesture more exquisite than words. Applause, though unheard, hung in the air.

Philip nodded at Thettalos, like a man who has fulfilled his purpose. ‘Very well. I hope this has taught you not to hide behind the god when you are making mischief. This time you are pardoned; don’t presume on it. Take him away, and strike off his chains. I will hear the other business presently.’ He went out. He needed time to recover his temper, lest he make mistakes. Between them, they had nearly managed to make a fool of him. Yet they had had no time to concert it. A couple of tragedians, cueing one another to steal his scene.

Thettalos sat that evening at the lodging of his old friend Nikeratos, who had followed him up to Pella in case he needed ransoming, and was rubbing salve on his sores.

‘My dear, I bled for the boy. One forgets how little he travels. I tried to signal him, but he swallowed every word. He saw the rope round my neck.’

‘So did I. Will you never learn sense?’

‘Come come, what do you think Philip is, some Illyrian pirate? You should have seen him being Greek at Delphi. He knew already he’d gone too far, before I told him so. A disgusting journey. Let us go home by sea.’

‘You know the Corinthians are fining you half a talent? Aristodemos got your roles. No one will pay you for acting King Philip off his own stage.’

‘Oh, n?ot I alone. I never reckoned on the boy being such a natural. What a sense of theatre! Wait till he finds himself; I tell you, we shall see something. But it was a monstrous thing to do to him. I bled for him, truly bled.’

Hephaistion was whispering in the midnight room, ‘Yes, I know. I know. But you must get some sleep now. I’ll stay with you. Try to sleep.’

In a colourless white-hot voice Alexander repeated, ‘He put his foot on my neck.’

‘He’s getting no praise for it. It’s a scandal, his chaining Thettalos; everyone says so. They all say you came off best.’

‘He put his foot on my neck, to show me he could do it. Before Thettalos; before them all.’

‘They’ll forget. So must you. All fathers are unfair sooner or later. I remember once -’

‘He’s not my father.’

Hephaistion’s comforting hands froze in a moment’s stillness. ‘Oh, not in the eyes of the gods; they choose whom -’

‘Never use that word again.’

‘The god will reveal it. You must wait the god’s sign, you know thatÉWait till the war begins. Wait till you win your next battle. He’ll be bragging of you then.’

Alexander was lying flat on his back, staring upward. Suddenly he grasped Hephaistion in an embrace so fierce that it knocked the breath out of him, and said, ‘Without you I should go mad.’

‘I too without you,’ said Hephaistion with loving ardour. Change the meaning, he thought, and you avert the omen.

Alexander said nothing. His strong fingers gripped into Hephaistion’s ribs and shoulder; the bruises would be there a week. Hephaistion thought, I am in the King’s gift too, a favour he can take away. Presently, having no more words, he offered instead the sadness of Eros, for this at least brought sleep.

Ê

The young slave-girl glided out from the shadow of the column; a black Nubian girl in a scarlet dress. She had been given as a child to Kleopatra in her childhood, to grow up with her, as a puppy might have been given. Her dark eyes with their smoky whites, like the agate eyes of statues, looked left and right before she spoke.

‘Alexander, my lady says, please see her in the Queen’s garden. By the old fountain. She wants to speak with you.’

He looked at her with a sharp alertness, then seemed to draw into himself. ‘I can’t come now. I am busy.’

‘Please see my lady now. Please come. She is crying.’ He saw that on her own dark polished face drops were lying like rain on bronze.

‘Tell her yes, I’ll come.’

It was early spring. The old tangled roses were beaded with hard red buds; in the slant evening light they glowed like rubies. An almond-tree growing between ancient tilted flag-stones looked weightless in its cloud of pink. The shadowed water gushed out from the columned fountain-house into a basin of worn porphyry with ferns growing in its cracks. Seated on its edge, Kleopatra looked up at his footstep. She had dried her tears. ‘Oh, I am glad Melissa found you.’

He rested a knee on the coping and made a quick movement with his hand. ‘Wait. Before you say anything, wait.’

She looked at him blankly. He said, ‘There was something I asked you once to warn me of. Is it anything like that?’

‘Warn you?’Ê She had been full of other things. ‘Oh, but not-’

‘Wait. I am not to interfere with any of her business. In any plot. That was the condition.’

‘Plot? No, no, please don’t go away.’

‘I am telling you, I release you from the promise. I don’t wish to know.’

‘No, truly. Please stay. Alexander, when you were in MolossiaÉ with King AlexandrosÉWhat was he like?’

‘Our uncle? But he was here a few years ago, you must remember him. A big man, red-bearded, young for his age -’

‘Yes, I know; but what kind of man?’

‘Oh, ambitious, brave in war I’d say, but I’d doubt his judgement. He governs well, though, watches things for himself.’

‘What did his wife die of? Was he kind to her?’

‘How should I know? She died in childbed.’ He paused and stared, then in a changed voice said, ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I have to marry him.’

He stood back. The water from the hidd?en spring murmured in its columned cave. His first words were, ‘When did you hear this? I should have been told. The King tells me nothing. Nothing.’

She looked at him silently, then said, ‘He sent for me just now,’ and turned away.

He crossed over and drew her against his shoulder. He had scarcely embraced her since their childhood, and now it was in Melissa’s arms that she had wept. ‘I am sorry. You need not be frightened. He’s not a bad man, he has no name for being cruel. The people like him. And you’ll not be too far away.’

She thought, You took for granted you’d choose the best; when you chose, you had only to lift your finger. When they find you a wife, you can go to her if you choose, or stay away with your lover. But I must be grateful that this old man, my mother’s brother, has no name for being cruel. All she said was, ‘The gods are unjust to women.’

‘Yes, I have often thought so. But the gods are just; so it must be the fault of men.’ Their eyes met questioningly, but their thoughts had no point of meeting. ‘Philip wants to be sure of Epiros, before he crosses to Asia. What does Mother think of it?’

She grasped a fold of his chiton, the gesture of a suppliant. ‘Alexander. This is what I wanted to ask you. Will you tell her for me?’

‘Tell her? But of course she must have heard before you.’

‘No, Father says not. He said I could tell her.’

‘What is it?’ He grasped her wrist. ‘You are keeping something back.’

‘No. Only that - I could tell he knows she will be angry.’

‘So I should think. What an insult! Why go out of his way to slight her, when the thing in itselfÉI should have thoughtÉ’

Suddenly he released her. His face altered. He began to walk about the pavement, his feet, with a cat’s instinct, avoiding the broken edges. She had known he would uncover the secret dread; better he than their mother, she had thought; but now she could scarcely bear the waiting. He turned. She saw a greyness under his skin; his eyes appalled her. He remembered her presence, said abruptly, ‘I’ll go to her,’ and began to walk away.

‘Alexander!’ At her cry he paused impatiently. ‘What does it mean? Tell me what it means?’

‘Can’t you see for yourself? Philip made Alexandros King of Molossia and hegemon of Epiros. Why isn’t that enough? They’re brothers-in-law; isn’t that enough? Why not? Why make him a son-in-law besides? Can’t you see? Not besides - instead.”

She said slowly, ‘What?’ and then, ‘Ah, no, God forbid it!’

‘What else? What does he mean to do, that would make an enemy of Alexandros unless he’s sweetened with a new marriage-tie? What else, but throw him back his sister? For Eurydike to be Queen.’

Suddenly she began to wail, tearing her hair and dress, clawing and beating her bared breasts. He pulled back her hands, straightened her clothes and gripped her hard by the arms. ‘Quiet! Don’t tell the world our business. We must think.’

She looked up with terror-stretched eyes. ‘What will she do? She will kill me.’ The words passed without shock, between the children of Olympias; but he took her in his arms and patted her, as he might have soothed a hurt dog. ‘No, don’t be foolish, you know she won’t harm her own. If she killed anyoneÉ.” He broke off with a violent movement, which in the moment of making it he changed to a clumsy caress. ‘Be brave. Sacrifice to the gods. The gods will do something.’