Fire From Heaven (45 page)

Illyria, Hephaistion thought. It’s like a sickness he can’t shake off. Later I’ll talk to him. ‘Who’d be a woman? he said. ‘Does she know she’s promised to a wittol?’

‘What do you think?’ said Alexander, his nostrils flaring. ‘Or her father either.’ His brows drew together in thought; he began to pace about. Hephaistion recognized the prelude to coming action.

Ignoring the danger signs, falling into step beside him, Hephaistion said, ‘Alexander, this can’t be true unless the King’s gone mad. Why, he was elected King himself because the Macedonians wouldn’t accept a child. How could he suppose they’d accept a halfwit?’

‘I know what he’s doing.’ A dry heat seemed to radiate from him. ‘Arridaios is a stopgap till Eurydike has a boy. This is Attalos’ work.’

‘ButÉ but think! This boy’s not even born. Then he has to grow up. Say eighteen years. And the King’s a soldier.’

‘She’s pregnant again, didn’t you know?’ If one touched his hair, Hephaistion thought, one would hear it crackle.

‘He can’t think he’s immortal. He’s going to war. What does he think would happen if he died in the next five years? Who is there but you?’

‘ Unless he has me killed.’ He threw it off like a commonplace.

‘What? How can you believe it? His own son.’

‘They say I’m not. Well, then, I must look out for myself.’

‘Whoever says so? Do you mean that sottish wedding speech? I th?ink all the man really meant by a true-born heir, was Macedonian blood both sides.’

‘Oh, no. That’s not what they’re saying now.’

‘Listen. Come out awhile. We’ll go hunting. Then we’ll talk later.’

Looking quickly round to be sure no one else could hear, Alexander said in a desperate undertone, ‘Be quiet, be quiet.’ Hephaistion went back to the others; Alexander paced, like a caged wolf, to and fro.

Suddenly he faced round to them, and said, ‘I shall deal with this.’

Hephaistion, who had never before heard this voice of decision with less than perfect trust, felt an instant presage of disaster.

‘We’ll see who wins,’ Alexander said, ‘at this marriage-broking.’ Prompt as a chorus, the others begged to hear. ‘I shall send to Karia, and tell Pixodoros what kind of bargain he’s made.’

There was applause. Hephaistion thought, Everyone’s gone insane. Over the noise, Nearchos the naval officer called out, ‘You can’t do that, Alexander. You might lose us the war in Asia.’

‘You might let me finish,’ Alexander shouted back. ‘I shall offer for the girl myself.’

Almost in silence, they took it in. Then Ptolemy said, ‘Do it, Alexander. I’ll stand by you, here’s my hand on it.’

Hephaistion stared, appalled. He had counted upon Ptolemy, the big brother, the steady one. He had lately fetched his Thais back from Corinth, where she had spent his time of exile. But now it was clear he was as angry as Alexander. He was, after all, though unacknowledged, the eldest of Philip’s sons. Personable and capable, ambitious and turned thirty, he thought he could have managed in Karia very well. It was one thing to uphold a loved and legitimate brother; something else to stand aside for slobbering Arridaios. ‘What do you say, everyone? Do we all stand by Alexander?’

There were sounds of confused assent. Alexander’s certainties were always catching. They exclaimed that this marriage would secure his place, that it would force the King to take care with him. Even the faint-hearted, seeing him count heads, joined in; this was no Illyrian exile, there was nothing they need do, all the risks would be taken, they thought, by him.

This is treason, Hephaistion thought. Arrogant with desperation, he took Alexander by the shoulders, with the firmness of one who claims his rights. At once Alexander turned aside with him.

‘Sleep on it. Think tomorrow.’

‘Never put off.’

‘Listen. “What if your father and Pixodoros are swapping stinking fish? What if she’s a slut or a hag? Just fit for Arridaios? You’d be a laughing-stock.’

With an effort he could see, Alexander turned on him dilated glittering eyes, and said with controlled forbearance, ‘What is it? This will make no difference to us, you know that.’

‘Of course I know that!’ said Hephaistion angrily. ‘You’re not talking to Arridaios, what sort of fool do youÉ’ No, no; one of us must keep his head. Suddenly, for no reason that was clear to him, Hephaistion thought, he’s proving he can take a woman from his father. She’s for Arridaios, that keeps it decent, he need not know. And who dares tell him? No one, not even I.

Alexander, his head tilted defiantly, had started to assess the strength of the Karian navy. Through all this, Hephaistion sensed appeal. He wanted not advice, but the proofs of love. Anything he needed, he must have.

‘You know I’m with you, whatever comes of it. Whatever you do.’

Alexander pressed his arm, gave him a quick secret smile, and turned back to the rest.

‘Whom will you send to Karia?’ asked Harpalos. ‘I’ll go, if you want.’

Alexander strode over and clasped his hands. ‘No; no Macedonian; my father could make you pay. It was noble to offer, Harpalos, I’ll never forget it.’ He kissed Harpalos’ cheek; he was getting very emotional. Two or three others crowded up, offering to go. This is like the theatre, Hephaistion thought.

It was then that he guessed whom Alexander would send.

Thettalos came after dark, and was let in through Olympias’ private postern. She had wished to be present at the conferenc?e, but Alexander saw him alone. He went away with a gold ring on, and his head held high. Olympias, too, thanked him with the charm she could still sometimes command, and gave him a talent of silver. He replied with grace; he had had practice in making speeches when his mind was on other things.

Ê

Some seven days later, Alexander met Arridaios in the Palace courtyard. He came oftener now; the doctors advised he should mix more in company, to stir his wits. He trotted eagerly forward to meet Alexander, the old servant, now half a head shorter, bustling anxiously behind. Alexander, who bore him no more malice than his enemy’s horse or dog, returned his greeting. ‘How’s Phryne?’ he asked. The doll was missing. ‘Have they taken her away?’

Arridaios grinned. There was a wet trickle in his soft black beard. ‘Old Phryne’s in the box. I don’t need her.They’re bringing me a real girl, from Karia.’ He added, like a dull child echoing adults, an obscene boast.

Alexander looked at him with pity. ‘Take care of Phryne. She’s a good friend. You might want her after all.’

‘Not when I’ve a wife.’ He nodded down at Alexander, and added with friendly confidence, ‘When you’re dead I shall be King.’ His keeper tugged quickly at his belt; he went on towards the stoa, singing to himself a tuneless song.

Philotas was growing concerned. He had seen looks exchanged whose meaning he would have given much to know. Again he had been left outside a secret. Half a month he had scented it, but they were all holding their tongues. Who they were, at least, he knew; they were too pleased with themselves, or too scared, to hide it.

It was an uneasy time for Philotas. Though he had lived for years on the fringe of Alexander’s set, he had always failed to reach the inmost ring. He had a good war record; impressive looks, but for rather prominent blue eyes; he was good company at supper, and in the van of fashion; his reports to the King had always been discreet, and he was certain were undetected. Why then was he not trusted? His instincts blamed Hephaistion for it.

Parmenion was badgering him for news. If he missed this, whatever it was, it would set him back, both with his father and the King. It might even have been better to have shared the exile, he could have been useful there, and now he would have been told everything. But it had been too sudden, the choice at the wedding brawl; though brave in the field, he was comfort-loving off it, and in doubtful issues he liked hot chestnuts pulled out of the fire by others.

He wanted no one reporting to Alexander, or to Hephaistion which was the same, that he had been asking dangerous questions. It therefore took him some time, picking up trifles here and there, and seeking the missing pieces where he would least be noticed, before he learned the truth.

Ê

It had been agreed that Thettalos was too conspicuous to report, himself, upon his mission. He sent a confidential messenger from Corinth, announcing his success.

Pixodoros had known something, though not enough, about Arridaios; Philip was too old a hand to think a lasting treaty could be won by downright fraud. When, therefore, the satrap learned that at no more cost he could exchange the ass for the racehorse, he was enchanted. In the audience room at Halikarnassos, with its columns of serpentine, Persian wall-tiles and Greek chairs, the daughter was modestly paraded; no one had been at the trouble of telling Arridaios that she was eight years old. Thettalos expressed a proxy’s rapture. The marriage, of course, would have to be by proxy too; but once performed, the bridegroom’s kin would have to accept it. It only remained to choose someone of proper standing, and send him off.

For the better part of a day, in Alexander’s presence and out of it, nothing else was talked of among his friends. When others were about, they endeavoured to speak darkly. But that day gave Philotas the last link in his chain.

Ê

There was nothing King Philip did better than to act when he was ready, and keep quiet meantime?. He wanted no clamour and no rallying-cries; enough harm had been done already. Seldom in his life had he been so angry; this time he was angry cold sober.

The day passed without event. Night came; Alexander went to his room. When he was certainly alone, which meant when Hephaistion left, a guard was put on it. The window was twenty feet up, but there was a guard under that as well.

He knew nothing of it till morning. The men had been chosen with care; they answered no questions. He waited, fasting, till noon.

There was a dagger under his pillow. In the royal house of Macedon, this was as natural as wearing clothes. He slung it on inside his chiton. If food had been brought him, he would have left it; poison was not a fighting death. He waited for the footsteps.

When at last they came, he heard the guard presenting arms. It was not, then, the executioner. He felt no relief; he knew the tread.

Philip came in, with Philotas following.

‘I need a witness,’ said the King. ‘This man will do.’

Out of his sight, behind his shoulder, Philotas gave Alexander a look of shocked concern, mixed with dazed bewilderment. His hand sketched a little gesture, offering in the unknown trouble his helpless loyalty.

Alexander half-perceived it; but the King’s presence filled the room. His big mouth was set in his broad face; his thick brows, which had always an outward tilt, flared up from his frown like a hawk’s spread wings. Force came from him like heat. Alexander planted his feet and waited; he felt the dagger with the nerves under his skin.

‘I knew,’ said his father, ‘that you were as headstrong as a wild pig, and as vain as a Corinth whore. Treacherous I knew you could be, as long as you listened to your mother. But one thing I didn’t reckon on, that you were a fool.’

At ‘treacherous’ Alexander had caught his breath; he began to speak.

‘Be quiet!’ said the King. ‘How dare you open your mouth? How dared you meddle in my business with your insolence and your ignorant childish spite, you blundering, brainsick fool?’

‘It was to hear this,’ said Alexander into the pause, ‘that you brought Philotas?’ A jar had gone through him, like a wound one does not yet feel.

‘No,’ said the King menacingly. ‘You can wait for that. You have lost me Karia. Can’t you see it, you fool? Before God, since you think so much of yourself, you might have thought better this time. Do you want to be a Persian vassal? Do you want to pick up a horde of barbarian marriage-kin, who’ll hang about you when war begins, selling the enemy our plans and bargaining for your head? Well, if so your luck’s out, for I’ll see you to Hades first, you’d be less hindrance there. And after this, do you think Pixodoros will accept Arridaios? Not unless he’s a greater fool than you, and small chance of that. I thought I could spare Arridaios better. Well, I was a fool, I deserve to beget fools.’ He drew a heavy breath. ‘I have no luck with my sons.’

Alexander stood quiet. Even the dagger on his ribs hardly moved against them. Presently he said, ‘If I am your son, then you have wronged my mother.’ He spoke without much expression; he was taken up with inward things.

Philip’s lower lip thrust out. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said. ‘I brought her back for your sake. She’s your mother; I’m trying to remember it. Don’t tempt me before a witness.’

In the background, Philotas shifted his tall bulk, and gave a quiet, sympathetic cough.

‘And now,’ said Philip, ‘attend to me; I am coming to business. First: I am sending an envoy to Karia. He can carry a formal letter from me, refusing my consent to your betrothal, and one from you withdrawing. Or, if you won’t write, he can carry one from me telling Pixodoros he is welcome to you, but he’ll be getting no son of mine. If that’s your choice, tell me now. No? Very well. Then, second: I don’t ask you to control your mother, you couldn’t do it. I don’t ask you to bring her intrigues to me, I’ve never asked it, I don’t ask now. But while you are here in Macedon as my heir, which is while I cho?ose and no longer, you will keep your hands out of her plots. If you meddle in them again, you can go back where you have been, and stay there. To help keep you out of mischief, the young fools you’ve embroiled so far can go looking for trouble outside the kingdom. Today they are settling their affairs. When they are gone, you may leave this room.’

Alexander heard in silence. He had long prepared his mind for torture, lest he should somehow be taken alive in war. But it was his body he had thought of.

‘ Well?’ said the King. ‘Don’t you want to know who they are?’

He answered, ‘You may suppose so.’

‘Ptolemy: I have no luck with my sons. Harpalos: a sleek greedy fox, I could have bought him if he were worth it. Nearchos: his Cretan kin may have joy of him. Erigyios and LaomedonÉ’ The names came slowly. He was watching the face before him whiten. It was time the boy learned once for all who was the master. Let him wait.