‘Quite right!’ said Alexander.
‘Is that why you haven’t invited Parmenion?’ asked Seleucus. ‘If I remember well, you and I both copped it once from the old General on specific orders from your father.’
‘By Zeus! I see you have a good memory,’ Alexander laughed.
‘And who could ever forget that cane?’ asked Lysimachus. ‘I think I’ve still got the marks on my back.’
‘No, that is not the reason why I haven’t invited Parmenion,’ Alexander began again after having regained his companions’ attention. ‘I have no secrets to keep from him, however, and that is why his son, Philotas, is here with us tonight.
‘Parmenion will be the linchpin of our enterprise, our counseller, the repository of all the skills and experience my father accumulated. But Parmenion is a friend of my father’s and Antipater’s, while you are my friends, and here and now I ask you, before Dionysus and all the gods, to follow me and to fight with me wherever we must go. Even if that means to the ends of the earth!’
‘Even to the ends of the earth!’ they all shouted, getting to their feet and gathering round the King.
A powerful excitement had spread through them, an irrepressible agitation, a burning desire for adventure that had become all the more urgent for their having seen and had physical contact with Alexander, for he more than anyone seemed to nurture Philip’s dream.
‘Each one of you,’ the King continued when they had calmed down a little, ‘will take command of a division of the army, but each one of you will also bear the title of King’s “bodyguard”. Never before have such young men borne such enormous responsibility. But I know that you are up to this because I know you, because I grew up with you and because I have seen you in combat.’
‘When do we set off?’ Lysimachus asked.
‘Soon. This spring. So get ready … in body and in spirit. And if any of you should have second thoughts, or should change your minds completely, do not be afraid to tell me. I will need trusted friends back home as well.’
‘How many men will you lead into Asia?’ asked Ptolemy.
‘Thirty thousand foot soldiers, and five thousand horses and everything we can take with us without leaving Macedonian territory too exposed. And I am still not sure how far we can actually trust our Greek allies. In any case, I have asked them to provide a contingent, but I don’t think they’ll manage any more than five thousand men.’
‘We don’t need them!’ exclaimed Hephaestion.
‘But we do,’ replied Alexander. ‘They are excellent soldiers and we all know that. What’s more, this war is our response to the Persian invasions of Greek territory, to the continued threat posed by Asia over Hellas.’
Eumenes stood up. ‘May I speak too?’
‘Let Mister Secretary General speak!’ Craterus laughed.
‘Yes. Let him speak,’ said Alexander. ‘I want to know what he thinks.’
‘It won’t take long for me to tell you what I think, Alexander. The fact is that if I work solidly from here to the beginning of the expedition I will manage to scrape together enough resources to sustain the army for one month, no more than that.’
‘Eumenes is always thinking about money!’ shouted Perdiccas.
‘It’s just as well someone does,’ replied Alexander. ‘That’s what I pay him for. Indeed, the point he makes is no laughing matter, but it is something I have already given some thought to. The Greek cities of Asia will help us, given that we are embarking on this to help them as well. After that we’ll see.’
‘We’ll see?’ asked Eumenes as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
‘Didn’t you hear what he said?’ Hephaestion chipped in. ‘Alexander said, “we’ll see”. Isn’t that clear enough?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ mumbled Eumenes. ‘If I have to organize provisions for forty thousand men, including our Greek allies, and five thousand horses then I’d like to know where the money’s going to come from, by Hercules!’
Alexander clapped him on the back. ‘We’ll find it somehow, Eumenes, don’t you worry. I assure you we’ll find it. You just busy yourself getting everything ready for the off. It won’t be long now.
‘Friends, a thousand years have passed since my ancestor Achilles first set foot in Asia to fight the city of Troy together
with other Greeks, and now not only will we accomplish a feat of the same magnitude, but we are sure to surpass it. There may well be no Homer to pen our story, but our valour will be none the less for all that.
‘I am certain that you can equal the deeds of the heroes of the Rind. We have dreamed of them many times together, have we not? Have you forgotten how in our dormitory we would get up after Leonidas had done his rounds and we would all tell stories about the adventures of Achilles, Diomedes and Ulysses? We would stay up late into the night, until we fell asleep exhausted.’
Silence fell in the temple, because they were all filled now with memories of their youth, gone now but still near them. And together with the memories was a slight trepidation for an impending, unknown future, and the awareness that Death and War always ride together.
They looked at Alexander, at the changing colour of his eyes in the weak glimmer of the lamps, and they read there a mysterious perturbation, a burning desire for endless adventure, and it came to them there and then that they really would soon be setting off on an adventure, but they knew not when and indeed whether they would ever return.
The King moved closer to Philotas. ‘I will speak to your father. I would rather you didn’t tell him about this evening.’
Philotas nodded. ‘You’re right, you must speak to him. And I am glad you asked me to take part.’
The atmosphere had suddenly become leaden and Ptolemy broke it with a simple, ‘I’m hungry now. What would you all say to the idea of eating a skewered partridge down at Eupithos’ tavern?’
‘Yes! Good idea!’ they all agreed.
‘Eumenes is paying!’ shouted Hephaestion.
‘Yes! Yes! Eumenes is paying!’ they all repeated, including the King.
Shortly afterwards the temple was again deserted and all that could be heard was the galloping of their horses fading into the night.
At that same moment, far away in the palace at Buthrotum on a cliff above the sea, Cleopatra was about to open the doors of her bed chamber and her arms to her husband. The period of mourning required for a young wife had come to its end.
The King of the Molossians had been welcomed by a group of maids dressed in white and bearing torches, symbols of burning love, and they led him along the stairs up to a half-open door. One of them took his white cloak from his shoulders and gently pushed the door. Then they all disappeared down the corridor together, as light as nocturnal butterflies.
Alexander saw a golden, trembling light come to rest on a head of hair as soft as sea foam Cleopatra.
He remembered the shy little girl he had caught glimpses of so many times as she secretly observed him in the palace at Pella, only to run away on her slender little legs if he turned to look at her. Two maids were attending to her one
was combing her hair, while the other was undoing the belt of her nuptial gown and was opening the gold and amber buckles that held it on her ivory-smooth shoulders. And then the young Queen turned towards the door, wearing only the lamplight.
Her husband entered and moved closer to study the beauty of her statuesque body, to drink deep of the brightness that emanated from her divine countenance. She held his ardent eyes without lowering her long, moist lashes just
at that moment her gaze burned with the wild force of Olympias and the visionary ardour of Alexander and the King was completely lost in her eyes before he took her in his arms.
He gently caressed her face and her full breasts with his hand. ‘My bride, my goddess … how many sleepless nights have I spent in this house dreaming of your honey mouth and your body. So many nights …’
His hand moved down to her smooth belly, over her downy sex, while with his other arm he held her tightly to his body and then guided her forcefully to the bed.
He opened her lips with a fiery kiss and she responded with equal passion, with an ever more intense and ardent strength, and when he took her, he realized that she was not a virgin, that another had had her before him, but he didn’t pull back. He continued to give her all the pleasure it was in his power to give and luxuriated in their union, in her perfumed skin, sinking his face into the soft cloud of her hair, seeking her neck with his lips, kissing her shoulders and her fine breasts.
He felt as though he were lying with a goddess, and no mortal can ever ask anything of a goddess, he can only ever be grateful for what he receives from her.
He lay exhausted at her side when he had finished, while the flames of the lamps died one after another, leaving the opalescent half-light of the moon to penetrate the room.
Cleopatra fell asleep on her husband’s ample chest, exhausted by the length of their pleasures and by the sleepiness that suddenly weighed on her maidenly eyes.
For days and nights the Molossian King only had thoughts for her, he dedicated all his time to her and paid her every possible attention, every consideration, even though deep in his heart he felt the stabs of pain that were his jealousy. But then something unexpected arose to revive his interest in the outside world once more.
He was with Cleopatra up on the walkways of the palace enjoying the evening breeze, when suddenly he saw a small fleet sailing from the open sea towards his port. There was one large vessel with a magnificent figurehead in the shape of a dolphin escorted by four warships carrying archers and foot soldiers all armoured with bronze.
Shortly afterwards a guard came to him. ‘Sire, the foreign guests come from Italy, from an important city by the name of Tarant, and they have asked for an audience with you tomorrow.’
CHILD OF A DREAM
The King looked at the red sun which was slowly disappearing below the horizon and replied, ‘Tell them I will gladly meet with them.’
He then poured a cup of light, sparkling wine for Cleopatra, the same wine her brother enjoyed, and he asked her, ‘Do you know this city?’
‘Only by name,’ replied the girl as she put the cup to her lips.
‘It is a very rich and powerful city, but it has always been weak in war. Would you like to hear its story?’
The sun by now had descended beneath the sea and all that was left on the waves was a purple reflection.
‘Certainly, if you’re the one who tells it to me.’
‘Good. What you must know to start with is that a long time ago the Spartans besieged the city of Ithome in Messenia. The siege lasted years and they simply couldn’t break the deadlock. The Spartan leaders were worried because back in their own city very few babies were being born as a result of the prolonged absence of the thousands and thousands of soldiers being used at Ithome. It was felt that the day would come when there simply wouldn’t be enough young men for their army and the city would find itself unprotected.
‘So they came up with a solution they
went to Ithome, chose a group of soldiers, the youngest and strongest, and gave them orders to return home to carry out a much more pleasurable mission than a long drawn out siege. More pleasurable, but no less demanding.’
Cleopatra smiled knowingly. ‘I think I can guess what it was.’
‘Exactly,’ continued the King. ‘Their mission was to make all the city’s virgins pregnant. They accomplished it with the same sense of duty and with the same ardour they displayed in combat. They were so successful that the following year a veritable litter of babies was born in Sparta.
‘But the war finished shortly afterwards and on returning to their homes all the other soldiers sought to make up for lost time, resulting in yet more babies. As all these children grew up,
however, the legitimate ones claimed that all those born of the virgins should not be considered true citizens of Sparta, but ought instead to be treated as bastards.
‘Indignant, the children of the virgins started planning an uprising, led by a strong and daring young man by the name of Taras. Unfortunately for them, their plans were discovered and they were ordered to leave their homeland. Taras questioned the oracle at Delphi who directed him towards a place in Italy where they would be able to found a city and live off the fat of the land. The exiles did indeed found the city and it still stands there today Tarant,
which takes its name from Taras.’
‘It’s a lovely story,’ said Cleopatra with just a shade of sadness in her eyes, ‘but I wonder what they want.’
‘I’ll let you know as soon as I have met with them,’ said the King as he stood up and took his leave with a kiss. ‘And now I must go and give instructions so that our guests are put up in a fashion worthy of their status.’
The small Tarantine fleet left two days later, and only when the sails had disappeared over the horizon did Alexander of Epirus return to his bride’s bed chamber.
Cleopatra had prepared supper in her room specially
perfumed with lilies and
she had stretched out on the dining bed wearing a gown of transparent linen.
‘What did they want?’ she asked as soon as her husband was stretched out next to her.
‘They came to ask for my help and … to offer me Italy.’
Cleopatra said nothing, but her expression darkened.
‘Will you be going away?’ she asked after a long silence.
‘Yes,’ replied the King. And inside he felt that this expedition and the war and perhaps even the risk of death in battle would afflict him less than the thought, which was growing day by day, that Cleopatra had once belonged to another man and that perhaps she still remembered him, or perhaps she loved him.
