Thais of Athens

Chapter Fifteen: Unfulfilled Dream

A horseman on a sweaty horse rushed in from the Euphrates. Hesiona was waiting at the ancient pier, along with a thirty oar boat, the privilege of being the wife of the fleet commander.

A short note had stated, “There is news from Nearchus and Alexander. The army is coming back. I am here to get you.”

That was enough for Lysippus, Thais and Eris. They got ready as quickly as possible and departed after a long farewell with their Indian hosts. The priests presented everyone with enormous wreaths of blue flowers.

Ehephilos climbed on the overhang of the portico and waived at the cloud of dust raised by the horses’ receding hooves.

The Helenians rode several parsangs on their tough and slender local horses without stopping.

From the distance they saw a long, reddish-brown vessel resting on the glassy waters and a linen tent erected on the tiles of the pier. The Theban rushed to meet Thais.

“They didn’t reach the limits of the Ecumene in India,” she ranted excitedly. “The army revolted at the fifth river and refused to go further. That was when my Nearchus discovered that the Indus flows from the mountains that were far away from the sources of the Nile, not to the east but to the south, into the ocean. The Indus delta lies in the direction of the sun. Enormous expanses of land and sea separate these two rivers, so vast that no one could ever imagine…”

Lysippus put a hand on Thais’ shoulder to calm her down. She was startled by the wise man’s touch.

“Alexander was badly wounded while attacking a fortress, and was rescued by your Ptolemy, who was nicknamed Soter, or Savior, after that. They fought against many elephants. Bucephal perished. Then they descended down to the Indus. The army marched across the desert while Nearchus sailed along the shores of India for eighty days. He nearly starved to death while Alexander was dying of thirst in the desert. Then Alexander waited for him for a long time at the designated spot and dispatched the messengers to Persepolis from there…”

The Theban had spilled all this at once. Now she paused finally to draw breath.

Lysippus playfully shook Hesiona by the shoulders. “Please stop. Otherwise you will suffocate and we won’t find out what happened next. The wife of the great fleet leader like Nearchus ought to narrate the news in a more orderly manner. Who told you all this?”

“Deynomachus, one of Nearchus’ associates. He became sick and was sent to Persepolis with the caravan then went to Babylon to wait for Nearchus.”

“Then where is Nearchus himself?”

“He is leading the fleet to Babylon and seeking out a convenient route to Arabia and Libya along the way.”

“Another trip!” Thais exclaimed.

“Yes. Alexander himself wants to go by sea as he no longer trusts maps or descriptions of the dry land that deceived him so cruelly in Bactria and in India.”

“Then what did Deynomachus tell you?”

“Everything. He brought along a lokhagos, one of those who traveled with Alexander across Hedrosia^[36]. They spent two days and two nights talking about the incredible trials of their journey. Then I left them at my house to sleep and rest and I rushed here. Oh, I memorized every detail. You know I have a good memory,” Hesiona added, noticing Thais’ glance.

“If such is the case,” the sculptor decided, “then let us follow the example of Deynomachus. We shall sail and you shall tell us the story, but not at nights. There is plenty of time.”

The Daughter of the Snake was not exaggerating her abilities, and Thais found out more about the Indian campaign than she would have from Ptolemy’s letters. Ptolemy had become Alexander’s chief associate after Hephaestion, who was a chiliarchus, or kings direct replacement. There was no position above that. And Ptolemy was still the great army leader’s closest friend.

After they crossed the Indus using a floating bridge built by Hephaestion’s detachment, the Macedonian army entered friendly territory. The Indians hailed Alexander as the king of kings of the West. At the same time, the aristocracy, referred to as “the higher castes”, considered Macedonians to be barbaric and nicknamed them “a bunch of farm boys” because they were primarily interested in livestock.

In the capital of this country, Taxil, Alexander arranged a splendid celebration and started preparing the next river crossing into the hostile kingdom of the Pauravs. That river, named Hydaspes (Jhelum) by the geographers, was the site of the most brutal battle Alexander’s army had experienced since Gaugamela. The clash was even more dangerous than at Gaugamela because at some point Alexander had completely lost control over his troops.

The Hydaspes swelled and flooded after endless rains. Its silt-covered shores turned into a swamp. The Indian army, headed by King Porus himself, waited on the east bank. Alexander hoped to easily overcome the Indians’ resistance, but made a big mistake. The best detachments of the Macedonian army, led by Ptolemy, Hephaestion, Kenos and Seleucus, had crossed the river, but Crateros and his reserves remained on the west bank. The Macedonians were met by two rows of battle elephants spaced at sixty elbows from each other. Between them walked archers with enormous bows that could only be shot by setting one end on the ground. The arrows of these bows penetrated armor and shields, like little catapults.

At first the Indians overran the Macedonians. The new Bactrian and Sogdian archers on horseback, led by Alexander, fought desperately while sinking in mud. Agrians and hypaspists dashed to their help but the elephants kept stubbornly pressing the Macedonians against the muddy bank, and Crateros with his reserve troops were still nowhere to be seen. It turned out that he had positioned himself behind a split in the river and, having found himself on an island, was forced to cross again.

Suddenly Bucephal collapsed from under Alexander. He was not wounded, but the old war horse’s heart could not stand the entire day of fighting through the thick mud. Alexander took a fresh horse and sent forth his still-courageous phalanx — only six thousand people — against the elephants. The brave veterans went into battle against the huge beasts roaring the war cry “Enialos, Enialos!”. They forced the elephants to turn around and trample their own troops, completely crumpling and scattering the lines of the excellent Indian cavalry. The Macedonians chased after them like demons, striking the elephants with their long sarissas. The reserve cavalry of King Porus struck from the side. The phalanx could have lost a large part of its soldiers there, but Alexander forced the infantry to line up and close their shields, tossing the cavalry back. Reserve troops led by Crateros had finally arrived at that point. The Indians fled and the reserves gave chase.

Alexander’s main military force could not move from exhaustion.

After that day in Targelion of the third year of one hundred thirteen Olympiad, the Macedonian army appeared to snap. While they were still at the Indus, the soldiers reluctantly agreed to cross it, having found out about Nearchus’ discovery. The terrible battle at the Hydaspes, the monstrous elephants, and great military ability of the Indian army had completely depressed the Macedonians, especially after Alexander’s earlier assurances that India was laid out, wide open before them.

The great conqueror treated the defeated king of the Pauravs with great mercy. He left him on the throne and did his best to secure his friendship.

Among the picturesque hills above the Hydaspes, just beyond the site of the battle, Hephaestion started building two new cities, following Alexander’s orders. The two were named Nikea, or Victory, and Bucephalia, in memory of the great war horse who was buried there.

Even before the battle, Nearchus proposed to Alexander that he build a large fleet and transport the army down the Indus. The king had opposed this suggestion at first, then gave his permission so that he could sail east. There he hoped to reach the legendary river Ganges, flowing near the boundaries of the world. Nearchus disregarded his ruler’s orders and, with the help of the Finikians, in addition to light, thirty-oar boats that could be easily dragged from one river to the next, constructed several heavy, flat-bottomed vessels based on his own drawings. Those ships would later save the entire army.

Alexander continued his push into the east with the same zeal as always. He crossed one river after another, working his way through battles in a hilly country inhabited by the Aratts, brave Indian tribes who lived without kings. The Macedonians had to fight over thirty-eight fortified towns and settlements before they crossed the rivers Akesinas (Chenab) and Hydraot (Ravi). During the battle at the fortress of Sangala, Alexander’s army lost twelve hundred people.

The army reached the fifth river, Hyphasys (Bias), and Alexander continued moving east, traveling along the impossibly tall mountains which were visible from as far away as a thousand stadiums. The ridges marched in steps toward the hilly country, providing no change in their surroundings. Nothing indicated that they might be nearing any type of boundary. All of upper India was behind them, but no one knew what lay ahead. Not even the most experienced cryptii knew the local language, so they could not find out anything about the way forward.

Now the fifth river flowed before them, as swift and cold as those they had crossed before. The same hills stretched beyond, wrapped in blue mist and the greenery of thick woods. The army stopped.

Porus told his conqueror about the land of Magadha beyond the Hyphasys, whose king had two hundred thousand infantry soldiers, twenty thousand horsemen and three thousand elephants. Officer Chandragupta, who had been imprisoned there and escaped, confirmed Porus’ words. In the southwest there was a land of the mighty Aparajit, undefeated tribes who owned many particularly large battle elephants.

Nothing was said of the boundaries of the world or of the giant ocean. All at once the Macedonian soldiers realized that further travel was pointless. It was obvious the land, inhabited by skilled warriors, could not be taken by surprise. India was so vast that Alexander’s entire army could be scattered and lost there, their bones buried among the endless hills. The loot no longer attracted the exhausted army. Their infallible and unbeatable leader had gone too far in his search for the Great Ocean. He had led them to a land which he did not know how to conquer. His luck had almost run out at the Hydaspes. There the army had been saved by the selfless courage of the phalanx and the shield-bearers. But the veterans no longer possessed their former daring. They had been broken by the terrible battle and the endless war. Once they refused to obey, the army insisted. The march ahead made no sense. They had to return home while they still had the energy to cross all that space.

Alexander was beside himself. He insisted that the end of their journey was near. The Ganges was close and the ocean was just beyond. Then they would all sail home, past India to Egypt.

During a war council with Alexander, Kenos, a Hydaspes battle hero, represented the army. He said that the information collected by the cryptii was being held secret from the soldiers, and that the Ganges was not close at all. In fact it was three thousand stadiums away. There was no ocean beyond the Ganges, only endless mountain ranges. Couldn’t Alexander see how few Macedonians and Helenians were left in the army? Did he not keep track of the numbers of killed, wounded, and deceased from illnesses, or the ones left to stay in the new cities he had built? Those who were still alive and able were worn out. They were like horses who’d been ridden too far and too long.

At a sign from Kenos, seven tall Macedonians stood before the king. They were naked, wearing only their helms, showing their many scars and sores from old and still-bleeding wounds. They shouted, “Alexander, do not make us go forth against our will. We are not the same as we were before. If we are forced, we will become even worse. We can no longer support you. Can you see this, or have your eyes lost their sight?”

The great leader became enraged. He tore at his own clothes, intending to show these “weaklings” his own scars and wounds, of which he had more than any of the soldiers. But he restrained himself and retired to his tent, taking no food. Finally he sent a messenger to the soldiers, telling them he would obey the will of the gods.

It had been a long time since the army had watched the old seer Aristander with such anxiety. Now they watched in silence as he cut open the sacrificial sheep on the shore of the Hyphasys. Before Aristander could pronounce the menacing foretelling, Ptolemy, Seleucus, Kenos and all other officers standing nearby saw clear signs of failure and death. They could not cross the river.

When Alexander ordered the army to turn back, the soldiers’ loud cheers showed how their patience was at its limit. Alexander ordered twelve stone columns to be erected on the bank of the Hyphasys, marking the end of his Indian campaign. The army returned to the rain-flooded Nikea on the Hydaspes, where the fleet was being constructed. Tragically, Kenos died of exhaustion upon arrival, having served a great service to his comrades before his death.

From that point Alexander’s army sailed down the river. Most of the light rowboats perished on the rocks and in whitewater. Nearchus’ broadsided ships navigated the swollen Hydaspes and the Indus with much more success. Nearchus offered to build more ships of that kind but Alexander refused.

Having lost his dream of reaching the East Ocean, Alexander’s mind was now on his long-abandoned empire, and he hurried home.

The cavalry followed the Indus shore. Hephaestion’s detachment traveled along one bank. Another detachment, led by Crateros, traveled along the opposite bank, as the two commanders always argued with each other. The infantry traveled on ships with Alexander and Ptolemy.

From time to time there were skirmishes with brave tribes fiercely defending their lands from Macedonians. Alexander seemed to have become possessed by a demon. He was bent on eliminating all signs of resistance in the countries where his army traveled. There were senseless killings. Macedonians no longer needed large numbers of slaves, and had they kept the tribe members instead of killing them, they would have had to either deliver them to the markets or feed them. Both of those options did little but stall the army’s progress.

In the land of Mali, at the edge of the great Tar desert, the natives’ courage exceeded that of other tribes. There the Macedonian army was delayed at a well-construction and fearlessly defended fortress for a long time.

Enraged by the resistance, Alexander stormed the wall himself. As soon as he reached the top, the ladder broke. Alexander had no choice but to jump off the wall and land inside the fortress. Only two people were with him: Peuketos and Leonnatus, his personal shield bearer, who carried after him the black shield of Achilles he had picked up at Troy.

Alexander owed him his life. During the attack, an arrow struck Alexander through one lung and he collapsed. Peuketos was also wounded and fell to his knees. Leonnatus, who was also bleeding, covered them both with the sacred shield of the Trojan war hero and, fighting as mightily as Hercules, held back their enemies until the Macedonians finally broke into the fortress, mad with fury. Within minutes all defenders of the fortress were slaughtered. The king was carried to his ship, an arrow still protruding from his chest.

“Wait!” Thais interrupted. Hesiona stopped speaking. “Where was Ptolemy, and why is he the Soter and not Peuketos or Leonnatus?”

“I don’t know. Deynomachus didn’t know either. Perhaps Ptolemy managed to get to Alexander the quickest with sufficient number of soldiers to save everyone. The soldiers consistently call him the Savior and no one else. They must know better.”

“What happened next?” Lysippus asked.

When Alexander was brought to the ship, nobody dared touch the arrow in his chest. They thought the king was dying.

Perdicca, his most experienced officer, ordered them to roll Alexander onto his side. He broke off the tip of the arrow with his strong fingers then pulled out the arrow. He bound the wound tightly and told the king to drink water with wine and yarrow leaf. When physicians arrived, the bleeding had stopped. Alexander became fully conscious, wakened by the soldiers’ screams and shouts. The army demanded to see the king, dead or alive. Alexander ordered that he be carried to the shore under a tent so that people could see him.

When the ship docked at a convenient spot, a long-term camp was established. They ensured it was built as far as possible from the smoking ruins of the fortress with its piles of corpses. Alexander was pale as death, yet used one last, herculean effort to mount a horse, despite his friends’ cautioning him. He managed to reach his tent on his own, riding through his overjoyed army. That last strain exhausted his strength. For many days he lay suffering with the pain in his punctured lung, indifferent to everything.

Meanwhile Nearchus engaged all soldiers with any kind of carpentry skills to help him build more ships. He was able to find thousands of assistants among the Macedonians and the seashore dwellers.

The Macedonian camp attracted not only adventurers, merchants and women, but also scientists, philosophers, artists and performers. A new year had begun, the first year of the one hundred fourteenth Olympiad.

The army slowly traveled down the Indus. Alexander’s extraordinary life force overcame yet another dangerous wound that would have been deadly for most people. Still sick, he spent much time conversing with Indian philosophers. Helenians called them gymnosophists, nude scholars, because it was their custom to constantly walk around wearing hardly any clothes, emphasizing the absence of earthly desires.

With much bitterness, Alexander realised that he crossed one river after another, depleting the patience of his army in vain. It turned out that the Hydaspes joined the Akesinas and the Hydraot, and later the Hyphasys. It eventually fell into a large left arm of the Indus, Laradzos (Satledge), four thousand stadiums below the Indus crossing which had been constructed by Hephaestion. Had Alexander not pushed so stubbornly to the east across the foothills of the huge mountain ranges, but instead descended to the south after the Indus crossing, the entire great Indian plain would have been open to Alexander’s army.

But it was all over. Alexander no longer wished to go anywhere but Persia and the western sea. At the Laradzos he founded another Alexandria which he called Opiana. It was said that while he was there, the king secretly visited an impossibly ancient temple in the ruins of a huge city, a thousand stadiums below the merging of the Indus and the Laradzos. The priest of the temple told Alexander a great mystery, and Alexander never brought up India again. Not even to his closest friends. This news traveled among the soldiers like the wind, making them much better informed than their officers wished.

As they slowly sailed down the Indus, the Macedonians acquainted themselves with the country, whose giant dimensions they now had time to comprehend. It was good that they had put a stop to Alexander’s insane urge to rush headlong into the depths of India. Only now did they remember Ktesius, a Helenian physician who had served at the court of Artaxerxes and composed a description of India as a large country.

One of the Indians, gymnosophist Kalinas, had decided to accompany Alexander, warning the king about dangers and discouraging the officers from unnecessary attacks on nearby cities.

When Hesiona paused to catch her breath, Lysippus poured her some wine diluted with a quantity of spring water. Thais was deep in thought, as if she were still in India, then asked, “Where was Roxanne?”

“She was with Alexander the entire time. She had a separate tent and sailed on a separate ship. On land she traveled by elephant, as was appropriate for a great queen.”

“How does one ride an elephant?”

“I don’t know. We can ask when we get to Babylon.”

“Continue, please.”

In the month of Skyrophorion, Alexander had reached the Indus delta, six thousand stadiums below the convergence of all the tributaries. It looked much like the delta of the Nile. Not only Macedonians, but all the experienced sailors became frightened when he saw the giant waves rushing up the river, raising the water level by twenty to thirty elbows. But they were able to make sense of it once they reached the ocean. The tides there reached levels that were uncommon at the Inner Sea.

Approximately five hundred stadiums from the ocean, above the river delta, Hephaestion started building the Patala port. At the same time, in the month of Hekatombeon, Alexander and Nearchus sailed far into the ocean, five hundred stadiums away from the shore. There he made a sacrifice to Poseidon and tossed a golden goblet into the waves.

Hesiona continued, her hands shaping the story as beautifully as her words. “A month later Alexander traveled further west along the seashore across the deserts of Hedrosia and Karmania. He traveled light with only the infantry and a part of the cavalry. He had already dispatched Crateros with all the carts, families, loot, elephants and livestock along a comparatively easy route across Arahosia and Drangiana^[37]. Crateros was accompanied by Seleucus, who, after the Hydaspes battle, forever gave his heart to the elephants and was collecting them as enthusiastically as Ptolemy did jewels …” Hesiona paused and glanced nervously at her friend.

“ …And women,” Thais said calmly. “Continue.”

For the first time the Theban realized how indifferent her friend was to Ptolemy’s romantic adventures.

Crateros founded yet another Alexandria on the river Arahotos and continued slowly to their designated meeting spot in Karmania on the river Amanis, which fell into the deep sea bay of Harmosia.

Alexander traveled with the caravan in order to set up several provision caches for Nearchus along the seashore. The Cretan left Patala with the entire fleet two months later, in Maymakterion, after the change in the winds from summer to winter.

At first Alexander had wanted to entrust the fleet to Onesikrit. Nearchus was against that, pointing out the carelessness and well-known deceitfulness of his assistant. As much as Alexander wanted to travel together with Nearchus, he had to agree with the fleet commander’s arguments. Alexander made it his primary mission to document the shoreline and the sea route connecting India and Persia. That was why he decided to lead the caravan himself across the deserts. The march turned out to be nearly the hardest one of all that had been experienced by the Macedonian army. At first the army was joined by great numbers of civilians: merchants, craftsmen, women.

They all perished of hunger and thirst, although the majority of them drowned.

“Yes, drowned,” Hesiona repeated, noticing her listeners’ confusion. “When the army camped in a dry valley among the hills. A thunderstorm took place somewhere in the mountains and gave start to a mighty stream that instantly crashed onto the unsuspecting people. The soldiers were used to sudden attacks and escaped by climbing the hills, but the rest perished.”

Even at night the gray sand and rocks of the Hedrosia desert radiated heat, imbued with the strong scent of myrtle trees. It was as if a thousand incense burners filled the air with the precious myrrh of Arabia. Large white flowers covered the impassable thickets of low, stocky trees covered with thorns. These were followed by waterless sands.

The journey became more and more difficult. They had to save food, and water supplies nearly ran out. Uncontrollable soldiers looted some of the carts which carried provisions for Nearchus. Only one cache could be set up. In search of water, they were forced to turn into the depths of the country and both the navigators and cryptii became confused. As a result, they had to travel back to the sea, determine their direction and head straight north.

They finally arrived at the city of Pura on the same river where the three portions of the army were set to meet. They rested and continued to travel down the river to the city of Hulaskira in Harmosia.

Crateros arrived on time with his army, women and elephants. His detachment, having traveled a longer route, did exceptionally well. He had no losses among people or animals and no significant delays along the way. Crateros was a passionate hunter and had allowed himself a few forays away from his main route, remembering Alexander’s request to look for the terrible beast “man eater”. The animal had been mentioned in Ktesius’ descriptions of India. Those descriptions were wrought with many improbable stories but included evidence from many witnesses. The Persians were clearly terrified by the beast and called it martichorus, or swallower of people. Its huge size, terrible maw, hard scaly armor and spike-covered tail made the beast sound like something between a crocodile and a behemoth. Crateros himself had heard these stories, but similar to the borius of the Libyan desert, no one could point out its exact dwelling, and Crateros’ search turned out to be in vain.

There was no news of Nearchus. Alexander waited patiently, refusing to believe that the Cretan was dead, and not wishing to go on without his friend. From time to time he dispatched carriages and riders to the river delta and to the bay, but no one had heard of the fleet. Three months passed, autumn ended and the month of Gamelion began. One day the spies’ carriages returned bearing five emaciated vagrants, among whom Alexander recognized Nearchus and Archias. The king hugged the Cretan, amazed that he had managed to make it there and remain alive after losing the fleet. Now it was Nearchus’ turn to be surprised. The fleet was fine, he said. They lost only five ships out of eighty. The ships were waiting in the river delta. He had rushed to the meeting point in order to get provisions for the starving sailors. Alexander was overcome with joy.

Nearchus, clean and rubbed down with fragrant oils, was given a gold necklace and wreath, then headed a celebratory procession. The most beautiful girls, nude save for garlands of flowers, danced around him and sang, glorifying his victory over the sea. It was a grand victory indeed. Eight thousand stadiums along a wild deserted shore, inhabited only by the ichtiophages, the fish-eaters who only ate cured fish, mollusks and crabs which they baked in the sun. Helonophages, or turtle-eaters, were only marginally better, as they avoided raw food. They tossed out the precious turtle armor as if it were garbage. Nearchus ordered the men to gather as many as possible.

All along their voyage they saw not a single city or temple, though they occasionally saw cabins built from the enormous bones of sea monsters. The sailors got to see the monsters in their living state and said the huge black beasts tossed up whistling fountains of water.

Nearchus kept a detailed journal of the distances they crossed, landmarks and observations of the phases of the moon.

Before Nearchus, these seas had been traversed by the envoy of Darius the First Skilak, whose journey was successful. However, the Cretan did not trust Skilak. Having visited the Indus, Skilak described it as a river flowing to the east. How many troubles and losses could have been avoided had Alexander known from the beginning about the Persian Gulf and the true direction of the Indus? Aristotle himself believed that the origins of the Indus and the Nile were located in the same country because elephants lived both in India and in Libya, but not in any other country. Considering Skilak to be a liar, Nearchus set out on his voyage with great reservations. However, this time, Skilak’s information turned out to be correct.

Halfway through their voyage, the ships reached Astola, the island of Nereids, who were mermaids from the Finikian legends. The brave Finikians didn’t dare approach the enchanted place. However, Nearchus’ ship had a Helenian crew, and everyone wanted to explore the island and meet the beautiful sea maidens. The Cretan ordered them to drop anchor some distance from the shore and went to meet the mermaids on a boat. Much to the disappointment of Nearchus, Archias, Deynomachus and their companions, the island was bare and completely deserted. There was nothing but two half-ruined cabins made of bones and bits of turtle shells, evidence of helonophages’ temporary stay on the island. Another tale of distant seas was put to rest.

Onesikrit swore that the island really was inhabited by the Nereids, but the gods turned people’s eyes away from the sacred land, leading the fleet to a completely different place. Nearchus, calm and skeptical, chuckled into his long, wild beard as he listened to these fanciful tales.

Onesikrit had nearly played a fateful role in the fate of the fleet. When they saw the prominent cape of Arabia^[38], he had insisted on docking there. Nearchus ordered them to turn in the opposite direction and enter the Harmosia bay^[39]. From the Harmosia bay and the Amanis delta, Nearchus decided to lead the fleet to the delta of the Euphrates, then to Babylon, examining the shoreline of Arabia that came close to the shores of Karmania, right next to the bay. Alexander wanted to sail around Arabia and find a route to Ethiopia; however, he agreed with Nearchus that a mission like that would require a different fleet made up of large ships that could carry great stores of water, provisions, and wood for repair. One of the main difficulties along the way from India was the absence of good wood required for fixing damage to the ships. Thankfully, after the Pleiades had set, the weather near the shoreline that month was calm. Had the voyage taken place during the stormy months, many more ships would have been lost.

Alexander’s army was split into three parts again. Hephaestion led the army, the caravan and the elephants along the shoreline to Pasaragdes and Susa. Alexander and the cavalry rode in the same direction through Persepolis. Eventually they would all be in Susa.

“My Nearchus will be sailing by on his way to Babylon. I would very much like to meet him here, which is why I am in such a rush,” Hesiona said, finishing her long story.

The Theban’s hopes were not to pass. They arrived at Babylon long before Nearchus, and stayed at Hesiona’s for two weeks. The city was in a frenzy over the news of Alexander’s return, and the streets were filled with crowds of newcomers arriving from everywhere. For the first time Thais saw the slender Libyans with the skin the color of dark copper. The Athenian looked pale next to these dwellers of Lydian steppes, despite her coppery tan. The Etruscans from the Italian shores were an unprecedented sight: powerful, stocky people of average height with sharply-outlined profiles of Egyptian type. Lysippus had read historic books by Timeus and Teopompus and had heard stories of travelers of how the Etruscan’s wives enjoyed incredible freedom even compared to the Spartans. They were stunningly beautiful and took great care of their bodies, frequently appearing in the nude. During meals they sat next to their husbands and other men and carried themselves with unheard-of liberty. Men often shared the love of women between them: such was their custom.

“If such are the Etruscan customs, then they do not have hetaerae and I would not have been popular with them,” Thais said half-jokingly.

“They really do not have hetaerae,” Lysippus agreed, then added thoughtfully. “All their women are hetaerae, or rather they are the same as our women were in the ancient times. We did not need hetaerae because women were true companions of men.”

“Our compatriots are unlikely to agree with you,” the Athenian said, laughing. “Presently I am more interested in elephants than the Etruscans. A caravan of fifty of these animals arrived yesterday. Although,” she said, sounding puzzled, “it is strange to call an elephant an animal. They are something else entirely.”

“They really are,” Lysippus agreed.

“They’ll listen to you, after all. You know how to order, teacher.”

The Athenian’s sweet tone made the sculptor suspicious. “What do you want from me, restless child?” he asked.

“I have never ridden an elephant. How do they do it? You can’t just sit astride such a huge thing.”

“The battle elephants are ridden in a little gazebo saddle. The same goes for the everyday riding, except the walls are lower and have large side cutouts. I watched them from the distance. I have never ridden an elephant either.”

Thais hopped up and put her arms around the artist’s neck. “Let’s go. We’ll take Hesiona and Eris. We’ll only travel one or two parsangs.”

Lysippus agreed. They chose the biggest elephant, one with long tusks and hostile eyes. A yellow fringe danced around his forehead and around the roof of the colorfully painted gazebo saddle. Thais settled triumphantly on a cross bench with Eris, facing Lysippus. Hesiona stayed home, having flatly refused to participate. The caretaker made the giant rise, and the elephant started down the road. His thick skin slipped and moved oddly over his ribs, making the gazebo tilt, rock and dive. Thais and Eris found the rhythm of the elephant’s walk, but Lysippus was barely able to stay on his bench. He wiped sweat continuously from his brow and cursed the overly long promenade. Being unfamiliar with the inconveniences of riding an elephant and also being unaccustomed to it, they had chosen a too-distant destination for their ride. The great sculptor bore it bravely, like a true Helenian, but in the end was only too glad to climb off the elephant, grunting and stretching as he did so.

“I don’t envy Roxanne,” Thais said, jumping straight down from the gazebo.

Hesiona was waiting for them. “Amazing news!” she shouted from the doorway. “Garpal escaped with a mass of gold from the king’s treasury!”

Garpal was Alexander’s designated treasurer in Ecbatana. He had recently arrived in Babylon in order to meet his ruler.

“Where did he go, and what for?” Lysippus exclaimed.

“To Hellas, to Cassander, with a detachment of Helenian mercenaries left behind in Babylon.”

“What about Alexander?” Thais asked.

Hesiona flapped her hand dismissively. “He probably doesn’t know yet. More news: in Susa, Alexander decided to get married and also to marry all his officers to Asian women. The king himself took Darius’ eldest daughter, who was named Stateira, like her mother. Crateros became related to Alexander by marrying Roxanne’s sister. Hephaestion married Dripetis, Darius’ daughter and a sister of his former wife. Seleucus took Apama, the daughter of the late envoy Spitamenus. Ptolemy married Sirita, who was nicknamed Atacama, the Persian princess from Darius’ family. Nearchus was supposed to have a bride, too, the daughter of Barsina of Damascus and Mentor; however, he is still at sea and will not be able to attend the celebration. As far as I know my Cretan, he’ll dodge this marriage. Eighty officers and getaerosi are marrying girls of noble origins, and ten thousand Macedonian soldiers are entering lawful marriage with their slave girls, who are Persians, Bactrians, and Sogdians. There will be a celebration worthy of the feast of the titans, with three thousand actors, musicians and dancers.”

“Alexander wishes to create stronger ties between Macedonia, Hellas and Asia,” Lysippus said thoughtfully. “But must he be in such a hurry? They will marry and abandon these wives. The king is in a great rush. Thousands and thousands of unattended matters are waiting for him in Babylon.”

“I have to go home to Ecbatana. My son is missing me,” Thais said suddenly. “I shall leave the day after tomorrow if I can pack that fast. This place will become very hot soon.”

“Will you not stop by Susa?” Hesiona asked.

“No. The direct route through Garmal and the Sacred Fires is shorter and more convenient. You will stay here to wait for Nearchus. I know that, which is why I am not even asking. But what about our teacher?”

“I shall wait for Alexander here, though at first he probably won’t have time either for me or for the arts,” Lysippus replied.

A few hours before the departure, a messenger on horseback found Thais through Hesiona and the city overseer. He brought her a sealed letter from Ptolemy, who begged her not to be angry at him for the mandatory marriage with the Persian girl. He assured her that Alexander had forced them all to the speedy marriages and that they had done it only for the king’s sake. With his usual conviction, Ptolemy spoke of this marriage as a simple, meaningless favor to Alexander. He promised to tell Thais some kind of a secret that would be important for them both, once they met. Ptolemy mentioned the uncommonly lovely precious stones he had collected for her, but kept the words casual, because he knew what her reaction would be had he tried to bribe her openly.

Thais took a pin, stuck the letter to the table, cut it into small pieces with a sharp dagger, and scattered them in the wind.

She said a sweet but brief goodbye to Hesiona and Lysippus, not knowing that she was seeing them for the last time. Her small party traveled through the Ishtar gates and vanished down the northern road.

Thais spent the fateful third year of the hundred and fourteenth Olympiad in Ecbatana. Thais remembered every month of it well, down to the dark days of Targelion, during which Alexander died by a strange coincidence. The terrible battle of Hydaspes which had broken the spirits of the Macedonian army had also taken place at the end of Targelion, the third year of the prior Olympiad. Perhaps Aristander could have warned him, had the old man still been alive. But no. Alexander had long since stopped listening to him.

Some time passed before Ptolemy appeared in town. At first Thais enjoyed her grown Leontiscus, who became deeply attached to his mother. But then she felt lonely without the company of Lysippus.

One time she ascended to the cemetery in the hills and gazed for a long time upon the dazzling white tile on Cleophrades’ tomb. The wind moved the lacy shadow of juniper over it, making it look like script. Kneeling in the searing silence, she remembered the splendid inscription on the tomb of Anacreontus.

“Anacreontus’ tomb! Beneath it the swan of Teoss is asleep, and the passion of fiery youth is asleep.” Thais found herself composing the verses of the epitaph she had decided to carve on this blank white tile. It was already partially covered with ivy, the favorite graveside plants of Helenians. “Here lies Cleophrades,” she said aloud, “the sculptor of Athens, who molded the beauty of the feminine body with the eternal light of the goddess.”

After the new year, in the midst of summer heat, Hephaestion came to Ecbatana and brought a letter from Ptolemy, as well as an enormous quantity of jewels. Thais was also given an unexpected gift from Alexander: a gold statuette of a woman that looked like Thais, dressed like a maenadae. She was the companion of Dionysus, and was covered in ivy from head to waist with a few tendrils descending below her waist. Thais was delighted by the workmanship of the sculpture, but understood its meaning only after she saw the king one last time.

Hephaestion visited the Athenian at her house and told her about their adventures during the campaign. Thais peered at the merry giant’s long-familiar face with anxiety, finding in him traces of immeasurable fatigue and a strange emptiness. Sometimes Hephaestion’s gaze rested on something invisible and life itself seemed to leave his eyes.

In honor of Alexander’s closest friend and chiliarchus, the citizens of Ecbatana organized a great celebration. Judging by the number of actors, it almost equaled the marriage celebration in Susa.

Tragically, Thais’ foreboding came true. At the beginning of the celebration, Hephaestion became ill with a strong fever, and felt increasingly worse. As soon as the news reached Babylon, Alexander took the best horses and rushed to Ecbatana with Ptolemy and the most famous physicians. But it was too late. One of the pillars of Alexander’s empire, the king’s closest friend, the life-loving giant who easily bore the unimaginable difficulties of marches and battles, died in Puanepsion on the seventh day of his sickness, in the third year of the hundred and fourteenth Olympiad.

No one had ever before seen the great leader in such deep grief. Not even when he killed Black Cleitus. Alexander drank alone night after night, then spent his days consulting with an architect from Athens. The architect’s name was Stasicrates and he was known for his majestic structures.

Stasicrates constructed a giant burial pyre for Hephaestion, shaped like a temple of cedar and sandalwood, using great quantities of frankincense and myrrh. The flame, which reminded Thais of the fire of Persepolis, swallowed the hero’s body. The wake was attended by several thousands of people. After seven days of drinking following the wake, Alexander went to the northern mountains to conquer Cassites. They wer, a mountain tribe who were not afraid of the king, whose name alone caused other armies to scatter.

He was accompanied by Ptolemy, the last of his close friends aside from Nearchus. Ptolemy was now the chief caretaker of the empire. Depressed after the death of his friend, his face swollen from the nightly feasts in which he had to participate, Ptolemy came to Thais before their departure and spoke to her at length. He told her the terrible secret he kept for ten years, since the time Alexander had visited the Ammon oracle in an oasis in the midst of Libyan desert. At the time, Ptolemy had bribed a junior attendant of the oracle with a talant of gold so he could eavesdrop on the oracle’s foretelling. That is how he knew Alexander was told he would die at a young age, not much older than thirty years.

“He is now thirty-two, and if …” Ptolemy didn’t dare pronounce the terrible word. “Then his great conquered kingdom shall fall apart and vanish from existence because Alexander alone can rule it without exhausting himself with the great multitude of tasks.” He frowned. “You are not listening to me.”

“Yes, I am. I have only just realized why Alexander was so desperate, in such a rush to get to the edges of the world, to the shores of the East Ocean. He knew about the prophecy and carried it inside, like a poisoned dagger over naked skin.”

“You are probably right. But it doesn’t matter anymore. If Ammon’s foretelling is correct, then I will be the first one to advocate the split of the empire. I will only ask for Egypt. It is off to the side and near the Inner Sea, which is what I need. Will you come with me and be the queen of Egypt?”

Thais blinked at him. “What if the prophecy is not true?”

“Then everything will go as it is now. Alexander will sail with Nearchus and I shall stay in Babylon as his envoy and chief strategist of Asia. But you didn’t answer my important question.”

“What about Sirita?”

“I swear by the hammer of Hephaestus, you know the answer for yourself. You are only asking me out of mischief. The Persian girl will stay in Persia, I shall marry her off to one of the envoys of the eastern borders. But be careful trying my patience. I can take you whenever I want, wherever I want, tied and under strong guard.”

Thais rose and approached Ptolemy, still not giving him a direct answer.

“You spent too much time making war in Scythia and India and have forgotten what your wife is like. My dear army man, women like me cannot be taken by force. We either die by killing ourselves, or kill those who allow themselves such use of force. You are not a Helenian, but a Macedonian, who has grown wild in war marches, grabbing helpless women like any other loot at your feet.”

Ptolemy flushed crimson and grabbed for her with predatory curved fingers, then remembered himself and jerked his hand away, as if burned by fire. He nodded.

“Let it be so. You are right. I really have gotten used to women’s unquestionable obedience.”

“It is well that you took away your hand, Ptolemy. Had you grabbed me, I am not sure, but I believe Alexander’s chief officer might have been carried out of here as a lifeless body.”

He scowled. “Your black demon, Eris. She and you would have been tortured and executed.”

“Ah, so Eris is a demon now, and not a generous protector? Learn to control yourself when your wishes are not fulfilled, otherwise you shall never become a real king, Ptolemy. I am not certain about the execution as long as Alexander is alive. Besides,” she said lightly, “there is always poison.”

Ptolemy became ashamed for the first time. He mumbled something about going through a long war filled with endless killing and rape, and being used to instant and unquestioning obedience, then repeated his question about Egypt.

Thais softened and held out her small, firm hand.

“If you will learn to understand me again, then I agree. Only there cannot be either a second or third queen during my rule. What would you want me for, disobedient and unfaithful?”

“I would be happy with your absolute honesty. To speak nothing about your beauty, intelligence, knowledge, ability to interact with people, and understanding of the arts. I could not find a better queen for the ancient country where people’s tastes are established and unmistakable, and where they can easily tell the real thing from a trifle.”

“And what if the wild Amazon or a careless Nereid comes back to life in me?”

“You shall take care of that yourself. So. Do you agree?”

Thais nodded after a brief pause.

“May we seal our agreement with a kiss?”

The Athenian agreed.

Despite it being winter time, Alexander’s cavalry went into the mountains. They stayed much longer than was necessary for the conquering of the Cassites, scattered through Parthia and Girkania. Was Alexander planning to visit the Sea of Birds again?

Thais was thinking of other things. The tired conqueror, devastated by the loss of his best friend, was exhausted by a mountain of hateful tasks related to governing the empire. In these matters his habit of lightning fast decisions did not help, but rather hurt him. He simply did not wish to go back to Babylon.

Bad news arrived from Hellas. The fugitive treasurer, Garpal, and Cassander declared Alexander mad and possessed by a manic egotism; however, the army leader’s fame was far too great to be slandered thus. The return of all statues from Asia, taken out by previous conquerors, was considered to be his greatest deed in Hellas. Alexander was worshiped like a contemporary Hercules. Garpal the traitor came to a bad end. He was executed.

Architect Stasicrates told something entirely different. He proposed to Alexander that he do something entirely unheard-of. He suggested he create a statue of him six hundred elbows tall, by carving it out of the mountain Athos in Khalkidhiki. Alexander only laughed and said that the giant pyramids of Egypt told nothing of the rulers who had built them. Great size did not equal great glory.

The people of Hellas were even more impressed by the arrival of the Macedonian veterans, led by Crateros. They were set free and given both honors and great rewards by Alexander. The phalanx and the Agrian cavalry ceased to exist. All Helenian mercenaries who had been left behind in the new fortresses and Alexandrias were also able to return home.

Hephaestion’s ashes were temporarily placed in a mausoleum of snow white limestone on a hill near Ecbatana. The place had a view of the eastern valley, overgrown by silvery grass. Thais grew fond of visiting the peaceful place with Eris.

She remembered the story Hephaestion had told her not long before his illness, about the incredible deed by the Indian wise man, gymnosophist Kalinas. Kalinas had come to Alexander and declared his decision to leave the boundaries of the land. The king did not understand at first and offered him a unit of strong guards. The old man explained that he was feeling poorly and did not wish to live any longer, but that he was far away from his homeland and could not reach it in time. On the Indian’s request, soldiers built a large bonfire. Alexander, thinking the man wanted to make a sacrificial offering, gave Kalinas a horse and five gold goblets. The wise man gave the presents to those who built the bonfire, climbed on top and ordered it to be set on fire from all sides. Then the old man lay down, remaining completely motionless amidst the smoke and flames.

Alexander, struck by such courage, ordered trumpets to play and had all the elephants give the gymnosophist a royal sendoff with their roar. The soldiers did not recover from Kalinas’ death for a long time. They felt they’d lost someone who had protected the army along the way. Hephaestion considered the Indian’s death to be a great heroic deed, worthy of example. He wanted to find the same kind of courage in himself and without a doubt had told Alexander about it. The giant pyre was the king’s response to his friend’s words. The deserted hill that had bustled with construction activity only a month prior was cleaned and set to order. Flowers and shrubs were planted around the mausoleum.

For Thais, this was a good place for her to think about the upcoming changes in her life. Ptolemy had yet to arrange anything for their son. He’d sworn to find the best gymnastics and military teachers immediately after he returned to Babylon with Alexander, since he was unable to leave him alone.

One day in Elafebolion, a month of remarkably lovely weather, Thais arrived at the tomb and saw a small party approaching. They stopped about five stadiums from the mausoleum. Two of them separated from the rest and slowly rode toward the hill. They were tall and wore glittering helms, one riding a black horse and the other a dappled gray one.

Thais’ heart beat faster. She recognized Alexander and Ptolemy. In honor of his Bucephal, the king always picked black horses. Six Persian youths designated by Ptolemy to be her guards jumped up in alarm and ran out from under a lonely elm where they’d waited for their charge. Thais calmed them down, explaining who the men were. The soldiers did not mount, but lined up in the distance, bowing their heads with respect.

The king gazed in amazement upon Thais and Eris, standing on the white steps of the temporary mausoleum. The two women were dressed in identical pale blue ecsomida, like two statuettes of Corinthian and Egyptian bronze. He dismounted and quickly approached Thais, holding out both hands to her.

“I am glad to find you here, honoring the memory of a friend,” Alexander said. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad. “I wished to speak with you before returning to Babylon.”

“Whenever you want, King. Even now.”

“Alas, now there are too many people waiting for me, impatient to rest after a march. I shall set a meeting here and let you know. Will you allow me that, Ptolemy? After all, your wife is my friend.”

“She is not asking permission.” Ptolemy laughed. “Why do you ask, all-powerful King?”

“A king must observe tradition even more closely than the last of his subjects,” Alexander said, sounding somber. “For how else am I to inspire respect toward law and the sense of good measure?”

Ptolemy flushed slightly under his dark tan. With his reputation as a wise man of state he did not like to make even the smallest mistake.

Four days later a messenger arrived and told her Alexander was waiting for her at Hephaestion’s tomb. Thais twirled in front of the mirror, choosing a lavender ecsomida cut just above the knees. She wore the earrings from the Heavenly Empire, the gift from the yellow-faced man. After thinking about it, she also added the necklace from the talons of the black gryph, the memento from the Eridu temple. Only a firm demand from Thais forced Eris to stay home, which meant she was permitted to accompany the Athenian no further than the city walls. Boanergos, now a mature twelve year old stallion, scattered the measured hoofbeats of a pacer as swiftly as before.

Alexander sat on the top step of the mausoleum without armor, helm or weapons, wearing only the leg coverings he did not like to remove. He rarely took them off because they hid the scars of terrible wounds on his legs.

He took the pacer’s reins and caught Thais as she was dismounting, gently tossing her up into the air. The smart horse walked away without command and hid in the shade of the elm. Alexander peered at the Athenian, seeing her for the first time after a long separation, ran his fingers over the talon necklace and touched a tinkling carved earring. Thais explained the meaning of the gryph’s talon, the sign of the Guardian of Secret Paths, and told him how she came to have it.

Alexander listened as his gaze glided over her figure, clearly outlined through the transparent ecsomida.

“Are you still wearing the chain belt?” he asked, noticing the glint of gold. “Still with the xi?”

“There cannot be another one. Impossible,” Thais replied quietly. “I wanted to thank you, King. For the house in the New City, near the Lugalgira gate.”

“I use it to escape sometimes,” the king said, chuckling sadly. “But I cannot stay long.”

“Why not?”

“There are too many matters of state. Also …” Alexander suddenly switched, dropping the dispirited manner of speaking he had adopted recently. His voice became energetic. “Sometimes I wish to throw myself into the fire of Eros. To feel like a young man again. In you I have found the divine madness which also inhabits my soul, akin to the underground fire. You cracked the stone walls and let it out. What man can resist such force?”

“In order to awaken it, one requires a force in response, as a salamander requires fire,” Thais said. “And there is not one, except you.”

“Yes, when I was the way I met you in Memphis. No. That was in the middle of the Euphrates.” He sighed. “That man is far away now,” Alexander said, subsiding.

Thais looked at the king’s beautiful face, discovering unfamiliar traces of tired and disdainful cruelty. These were unsuitable for Alexander’s prior image, that of a dreamer and the bravest of the brave warriors. Such people could never be either disdainful or cruel. His low forehead seemed more rounded from the pronounced eyebrow ridges. His large, straight nose was emphasized by the sharp creases near his mouth, of which the full lips had already started to stretch over his strong round chin. Deep vertical lines cut through the once gentle outlines of his cheeks. Despite the conditions he had survived, his skin remained as smooth as before, reminding her of the young age of the great king. In Sparta, Alexander would have reached the age of a grown man only two and a half years ago.

“Are you very tired, my king?” Thais asked, filling the question with all the tenderness of which she was capable, as if the great conqueror and ruler had suddenly become a boy not much older than her Leontiscus.

Alexander lowered his head in silent agreement.

“Does the urge for the boundaries of Ecumene still burn in you?” the Athenian asked quietly. “Perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong path.”

“There is no other one. One cannot go to the east of Asia, or south or north without meeting armed detachments or entire armies. They would annihilate you or make you a slave, whether you have five hundred companions or five. It does not matter. Only having gathered a large force can one penetrate the wall of hostile people of different languages and different faiths, understanding nothing about my goal. You can see for yourself that I had to overturn enormous kingdoms and crush countless enemies. But only two years later, Chandragupta has already taken away a part of the conquered land from me in India and kicked out my envoys. No, I cannot reach the boundaries of Ecumene by land. Now I shall try it by sea.”

“Perhaps if you traveled alone, like the yellow-faced dweller of the East, you could get further in.”

“Perhaps. But there are too many dangers along the way, and each one can be deadly. And it would require too much time. Traveling on foot is too slow. No, I was right when I took the path of force. The sizes of Ecumene calculated by the greatest scientists of Hellas are incorrect. It is far greater, but that is their mistake and not mine.”

“Will you travel again, then, into the unknown?”

“I am tired not of traveling, but of the cares of the huge state. They crashed upon me like a river during a flood.”

“Can you not divide these cares by trusting them to your faithful associates?” Thais asked.

“I believed at first that I was surrounded by the worthiest men, that together we formed the top of a spear capable of penetrating anything. For the first time, the Spartan stamina became a standard for tens of thousands of my soldiers. The honor of that accomplishment goes to my father, Philip. He was the one who gathered and trained an army of such courage and endurance that the quality of individual warriors had approached that of the Lacedemonians. With these select thirty-five thousand, I deflected and crushed a force far greater in number but worse in the quality of people. All went well while our goal was shared, the enemy was powerful, and we were not burdened by the colossal war loot. Unity wears off, as does physical strength. Like rust eats through iron, the flattery of one’s associates, the crowds of loose women and merchants, priests and philosophers, relatives and false friends eat through the purity of heart and self-restraint.

“Those people who are harder than an eagle’s talon and were not worn out during the ten years of war and rule in the conquered countries, are few. Only a handful in the entire Great Empire. And I am losing them one after another as I lost the incomparable hero Hephaestion. I became enemies with some, sometimes for a good reason as they did not understand me, and sometimes unjustly, as I did not understand them. But the worst thing was the further we went, the greater became the difference in our goals. I could no longer think of homonoya, the equality between all people, as I could not find it among my closest friends and associates. The main poison in the hearts of all people is the idiotic arrogance of origin, tribe and religion. I am helpless to fight it. Such is the end of the Asian campaign. I, the ruler of half the world, wash my hands of it, feeling like a traveler at the beginning of his path. You are right. I would have been happier walking alone as a free traveler in tattered clothes, relying on the mercy of gods and that of any armed passerby.”

Thais pulled the Macedonian’s lion-like head to her, caressing it gently, like a mother. She could hear his anxious breathing as it screeched through his arrow-punctured lung. His powerful arms, once divinely calm and still, shook with a nervous shudder.

“Do you want to be my queen?” Alexander asked. He straightened and asked with his usual abruptness.

Thais was startled. “One of the wives of the king of kings? No!”

“You wish to be the first among all or the only one,” the Macedonian said, chuckling unkindly.

“You always misunderstand me, my king,” Thais replied calmly. “And you will not understand me until we are together forever. I do not need to be either exceptional or free of competition. But I must have the right to protect you, sometimes against your immediate desires or the will of your friends and associates. Otherwise you cannot rely on me at a difficult time of betrayal or sickness.”

“Then you want …”

“I want nothing. I am simply explaining. Too late. These things ought to have been discussed much sooner.”

“I am still young. Nothing is too late for me.”

“Need I tell you, ruler of people, that a true queen cannot be appointed or confined to your bed. The efforts of both are required here so that others may see and feel it. Many years are needed to become a queen and you don’t even have a year at your disposal.”

“Yes. I am sailing with Nearchus to seek the route to Ethiopia. Ninety ships are ready and being loaded at the docks of Babylon and the Euphrates Alexandria.”

“Will you take me to the ocean with you? Not as a queen, just as a companion?”

Alexander replied glumly after a pause. “No. The paths of war are uncertain and the demands of the tumultuous shores of the waterless deserts are great. You are precious. Wait for me in Babylon.”

“As Ptolemy’s wife?”

“I shall appoint Ptolemy chiliarchus to replace Hephaestion. He shall rule the empire in my absence.”

Thais stood up, gazing at the king tenderly, sadness in her eyes. Alexander rose too. The awkward silence was broken by the approaching hoofbeats of a galloping horse. A rider from Persian nobility, the new getaerosi, lifted a rolled letter above his head. Alexander made a permissive gesture and the messenger dismounted and approached, holding the scroll in front of his lowered face.

“Forgive me. I’ll read this.” the king said, unrolling the vellum. Thais noticed a few lines written in a bold script.

Alexander turned to Thais with a crooked smile. “I must hurry back to Babylon. Nearchus has returned from his research mission to

Arabia and we can set sail. Seleucus approaches with a large caravan of elephants and Peucestus is bringing young soldiers from Ariana.”

Thais whistled through her teeth like an Athenian boy. Boanergos raised his head, perked his ears and trotted to his mistress after a repeated command. Alexander gestured to his Scythian groom.

“Before we part, explain to me, King,” the Athenian said, taking the pacer’s reins. “Explain the meaning of your gift which was brought to me by Hephaestion.”

“It was my dream at Nyssa, where I saw the ivy and the Cretan bulls. You know the army of Dionysus consisted only of maenadae. I dreamed of you as a maenadae, nude and powerfully alluring, wrapped in ivy. The glittering scepter of Dionysus pointed at you. I ordered a sculptor from Susa to make an image of you as a maenadae from my dream and my memory.”

“I thank you for it with all of my heart, as well as for the house at Lugalgira.”

Thais boldly wrapped her arms around the king’s neck and froze in his arms for a moment. Then she paled, pulled away and mounted the pacer. Alexander took a step toward her, holding out his hand and seemed to stumble against her firm gaze.

“Destiny and I gave you a chance thrice. First in Memphis, then at the Euphrates and the third time in Persepolis. Fate does not offer favors four times and neither do I. Geliaine, great king, ton eona. Forever, as Plato said.”

Thais urged the pacer forward, her head lowered. Large tears rolled from under her long eyelashes and fell onto the horse’s black mane. Alexander rode next to her, very quiet. One stadium behind them, the king’s guards rode in the cloud of dust. Alexander lowered his bare head, his broad shoulders sagged and his arm hung limply. Thais had never seen the divine victor look that way. He was the image of a man who had exhausted his strength and had no hope. Even Cleophrades looked stronger and tougher during his last Keoss feast. What would happen when Alexander returned to the matters of the great empire in Babylon?

“In the name of Aphrodite and everything that draws us to each other, Alexander, my king, leave Babylon immediately. Do not linger another day. Swear it,” she said. She took his hand and squeezed it firmly.

Alexander looked into her huge gray eyes and replied tenderly and sincerely. “I swear by the Styx, my Ayphra, my luminous one.”

Thais hit Boanergos with her heels and he quickly passed the king and his slow-riding guard. The Athenian flew through the gates of Ecbatana like the wind, galloped down the streets to the house. There she tossed the reins to a servant, ran across the garden to Eris’ gazebo, and locked herself in till evening.

Two months later, during the last days of Targelion, the news of Alexander’s sudden death crashed like a mountain rockfall.

In less than ten days, a messenger brought Thais two letters at once. One was from Ptolemy and the other from Hesiona. The Theban described in detail the king’s last two days of life. Impossibly fatigued, he gathered his officers to distribute the ships. Together with Nearchus he gave instructions, attempting to comprehend every detail of preparation of the giant fleet.

Tortured by insomnia, he went swimming in the Euphrates at night. Eventually, the king became feverish and left his usual residence in the palace of Nebuchadnezzar, moving instead to his house with a shaded pool in the New City. He did not wish to see anyone except Nearchus. He swam as he was burning up, but the fever became worse. He still could not sleep.

Alexander ordered a sacrifice to the twelve Olympians and Aesculapius. When he spoke with Nearchus, he insisted they set sail in two days. The Cretan had never seen his divine friend in such an unnatural state of anxiety. Alexander spoke constantly of the ocean and gave orders, sometimes repeating himself and becoming confused. In the morning, when his fever subsided, Alexander ordered that he be carried to the palace in the Old City in order to make the sacrifice. He was so weak at that point he could barely speak.

The great leader fought death till the last moment. A few hours before his passing, he wished to say farewell to his friends and his army. Holding back tears, the young getaerosi and warriors from the royal guard passed silently by the bed. Alexander managed to find it in him to greet each one by raising his right arm and sometimes lifting his head. He was conscious till the last minute.

The army officers, who were now called diadochs and Alexander’s heirs, gathered to hold an emergency council. Their first order of business was to have the hero’s body, covered in scars from terrible wounds, carefully washed and preserved in a mix of fragrant resins, strong wine and honey. Smiths and minters were already making a gold sarcophagus.

Thais could not read any further. Her vision blurred with tears. Long-contained grief had finally burst forth. Falling face down on the bed, the Athenian wept, having torn her clothes and let down her hair according to the old custom.

Alexander, the greatest hero of Macedonia, Hellas and Ionia, descended into the darkness of Hades at the age of a mere thirty-two years and eight months. Thais’ heart ached with the notion that prior to his death, exhausted and lonely, he might have been thinking about her, while swimming in the Euphrates or secluding himself in the house on that side of the river at the Lugalgira gates.

With another flood of tears, Thais thought of the king’s great loneliness. Everyone around him constantly demanded wise decisions, gold, protection, and love, never realizing his endless fatigue. Never watching him with knowing and understanding eyes and heart. Perhaps that was why he’d sought comfort in the ghosts of the past. If that were the case, had she been with him during those last few hours, she would have been able to recognize the signs of approaching peril. She would have. Alexander wanted to fulfill the promise he gave Thais: to get out of Babylon with Nearchus’ fleet.

The Athenian wept so bitterly that Eris became frightened for the first time during their life together and ran to get a physician. Thais refused to see him, but obeyed her friend and drank some kind of thick and bitter brown potion that plunged her into long and dreamless sleep.

It was four days later before Thais found it in herself to emerge from the dark room and take care of the usual occupations of a mother and a head of the household. After a few more days she felt brave enough to read Ptolemy’s letter.

He wrote that everything had taken place as he’d predicted. During the council of the diadochs he was the first to suggest the division of the empire and negotiated Egypt for himself. Perdicca was appointed to replace Alexander and become the chief strategist of Asia. He was also entrusted with protecting Roxanne, who was seven months pregnant by the king. Antipatros became army chief in Hellas and Macedonia and the chief strategist of all countries west of Ionia. The leader of getaerosi, Seleucus got Babylonia and India. The one-eyed Antigonus received Asia Minor with the exception of Ionia and Frakia, which went to Lysimachus. Nearchus did not want anything but the fleet, which he received and prepared to sail to Arabia without Alexander.

Ptolemy reminded Thais of her promise to accompany him to Egypt. He would have to wait for Roxanne to give birth. If there were a son, everything would stay the same. If a daughter were born the council would select a new king.

Such was the new incredible change in Thais’ life. Roxanne had a son, Alexander the Fourth, and Ptolemy urgently called the Athenian to Babylon. With the select troops who were loyal to him, he took the sarcophagus with Alexander’s body and hurried to Egypt.

Since then Thais had remained in Memphis as the queen of the legendary Land of the Nile that was sacred to all Helenians.

And here was the Nile itself, splashing quietly against the steps of the Neit temple.