Now I know that it has been a long time since we Athenians have had kings. It has not been too long, however, for you all to imagine the magnitude of this disaster: for this slave to put the royal device on his head was just as ominous a sign as a servant taking the throne, or walking on the royal carpet. Nor was Alexander immune from such concerns, for it was now obvious in his mind that Hephaestion’s death was connected to the discovery of the ram with the deformed liver. So where before he would have forbidden the presumptuous slave to be punished, this time he allowed him to be severely beaten; the hat was then tossed back into the water, where it was retrieved properly by a sailor with a better grasp of the side-stroke. Later Alexander regretted the beating, and rewarded the slave’s good intentions with a fortune of thirty minas in silver. That particular coronet, however, was locked away, never to be worn again.
As I have spoken to you here, friends, I realize I have asked much of your credulity. You have all heard what you believe to be the truth about Alexander, have sat your sons upon your knees and told them these same stories to fill their hearts with pride at the exploits of the Greeks. So it is with some trepidation that I speak to you now of the death of Alexander. Though you may find what I say difficult to believe, I assure you it is what Perdiccas in Babylon knows, and Ptolemy in Alexandria, and the handful of others who witnessed the events I am about to describe. By the gods, I swear it.
Alexander, believing himself abandoned by both friends and fortune, sought comfort in wine and conversation, as his sociable nature had always been accustomed. He was sharing the cup with Peucestas, Ptolemy, and myself when the first signs of fever came over him. Thinking perhaps that he would nip his sickness in the bud, the King took a last drink from a great Spartan canteen before going to bed. As he downed the wine, we saw a strange expression come over his face-an expression that did not necessarily imply pain, but a kind of dejection, as if he was reminded of some inescapably dispiriting thought. Then, in a voice so small none of us could recognize it, he bid us a good night.
The testimonies of his servants give us some hint of what happened next. Alexander spent the next hours in fitful sleep, and rose with his fever worse than before. Unwilling to skip his obligations, the King presided over the morning sacrifice, then reviewed two regiments of troops newly arrived from Macedon. He then bathed and withdrew early, perhaps still convinced that his illness would pass. When he awoke the following morning his fever was worse; though his chamberlain had ordered all the windows in his chamber to be left open, so the breeze would sweep over him, his bedclothes were soaked. Nevertheless, he insisted on presiding over the morning sacrifice, and then met with Nearchus about his plans for the exploration of the Caspian. And again, he bathed and retired before sunset.
There began to be real concern in court for Alexander’s health. In fact, the execution of Glaucias had left him without a regular doctor, and the death of Hephaestion had left him suspicious of the care of anyone unfamiliar. By the third day he failed to rise for the sacrifice and was not seen at all. On the fourth the servants were barred from the royal chamber.
The King began to drift in and out of consciousness, at times barking out bizarre commands, or violently stripping his bedclothes from his body, then lapsing into a trembling stupor. The foremost Babylonian physicians were brought in to attend him; his bedroom was transformed as they forbade certain fabrics and substances from his proximity, brought in braziers burning medicinal incense, and applied ointments to him that no Greek doctor could recognize. His officers, meanwhile, gathered in the forecourt of the palace, each insisting he had some essential business to discuss with the King, but-we may assume-wishing really to have a last look at Alexander before he was gone.
The next day, to the surprise of everyone except perhaps the Babylonians, the patient rallied. The fever broke at last, and Alexander was able to sit up and take food. As he did during his recovery from the fight with the Mallians, his thoughts turned to settling the apprehensions of his men by making an appearance before them. With servants supporting both shoulders (for he was still quite weak) he came out on the balcony of the palace and looked down on a sea of faces. Upon seeing Alexander, the troops erupted in joy, begging him to lead them again, and promising that they would follow him to the shores of the great Ocean if he so wished it. The King raised his hand to acknowledge them all, and opened his mouth to speak, but could produce only a whisper. In their thousands the soldiers all leaned forward, as if they might discern the invalid’s faint words from hundreds of feet away. Of what Alexander actually said, none could be sure, except that his statement twice included the word “duty”. Exhausted, he then had to be carried back to his room.
It was at this point that a peculiar thing happened. Rohjane, who had been standing behind the King as he appeared on the balcony, attended him as he settled back on his bed. It was the first time she had stood at his side since the illness had struck. She then insisted on helping her husband drink some water, which she professed to have fetched herself from the cistern. The Babylonians, who were not unfamiliar with the art of poisoning, examined the contents of the cup and could find nothing suspicious about it. Nevertheless, they brought in a taster. Rohjane professed great annoyance at the doctors’ impertinence, demanding by what power they could so insult their Queen. When the taster did not drop dead, they begged her forgiveness, and thereupon left the patient to his wife’s tender ministrations.
Alexander took the water and sleep peacefully. The next morning Rohjane was gone, and the doctor were confounded to find the King in the grip of a fever and new symptoms. These included sharp pains in his abdomen, and a fierce thirst that propelled him into a frenzy. The latter would not let him rest, so that Alexander could not conserve his strength at all. By the evening both his heartbeat and his breathing were faint. The doctors, perhaps with Glaucias’s example in their minds, brought to bear every art at their disposal to save him. By early the next morning, they managed to wake him for what all expected would be the last time. His generals were brought in, and he was asked if there was anything he wished to tell them. Perdiccas leaned down to hear his answer, which was but a single word: ‘water’.
Hours later, the messengers to Ammon in Egypt returned with an answer to Alexander’s request for Hephaestion to receive divine honors. The god said that all such men, including Heracles and Achilles, merit worship as demi-gods. It was an answer that would have pleased Alexander very much.
XXI.
Notice, gentlemen, that unlike Aeschines I did not tell you he died on that occasion. To be sure, Alexander very nearly did succumb to poison-as my opponent has told you, by the fourth day of his illness matters were desperate. What Aeschines does not know is that, in fact, the efforts of the King’s Babylonian doctors met with complete success. Now that I see I have your attention, and though I know I am racing the clock, I will try to tell you the real circumstances of Alexander’s death.
Thanks to the arts of the Babylonians, the King’s fever broke within two days; before the end of the week his was able to hold down his food. As it happened, then, this incident seemed like yet another of the King’s victories over mortality. Rumors spread that Alexander had rallied; the world, having held its breath, took ease at last. On orders of the King, however, no official announcement was made of his recovery. While it seemed odd that he wanted to withhold this information, I presumed he wished only to test the loyalty of those satraps who might revolt. On this, as on several other matters that day, I was wrong.
For Alexander was not pleased with his recovery. Instead of launching himself into fresh plans for building or conquest, he sat with a dejected look on his face. No one-not his friends, his new wives, nor Bagoas could rouse him. As for me, he tolerated my presence in the room, but would not speak. When he looked at me, it was with accusation in his eyes, as if I had been responsible for the undue extension of his life.
Rohjane gave the entirely appropriate reaction to his improvement. For the very first time, she had followed my directives on dress and comportment to the letter, looking very much like the dutiful Greek wife.
“My lord, I rejoice at your recovery!” she exclaimed, approaching to give him a kiss.
But Alexander turned his face away from her. She soldiered on, smacking him on the cheek, going on about the growth of the child within her. Alexander was silent, regarding her coldly. He only seemed to relent when she held up a piece of woven cloth for him to see.
“I’ve had Youtab begin the swaddling clothes for our son. I’ve made her swear to finish before he comes…”
The King’s brow softened a bit as he looked at this naive bit of handiwork. He was filled, no doubt, with that
