God of War: The Epic Story of Alexander the Great

Let me put it this way. Before that afternoon, I’d never really had sex. She was playful, humorous, lust-filled, languorous, fast, slow, intelligent, as beautiful as Aphrodite, with more cleverness in one hand than all the slave girls I’d ever bedded had in their cunnies. And in between bouts – for sex with Thais bore some very real relationship to competitions – she’d talk of things – real things, like love and friendship and war.

I’d like to say we made love six times, but that would be bragging.

‘I’m going to be sore tomorrow,’ she said.

‘I’m sore right now,’ I said. I was looking at my penis, which was as red as a Spartan’s cloak. She laughed. I laughed.

Put a value on that.

‘Come away with me,’ I said. ‘Live with me. Be my hetaera.’

‘On the basis of one afternoon on a couch? You don’t have my bill yet.’ She smiled and kissed my nose.

Now, I hated my nose. People called me ‘Farm Boy’ because of that beak. No one had ever kissed it before.

‘On the basis of the fact that I think of you constantly.’ I licked her lips.

‘You’ve bedded me now – the feeling will pass.’ She smiled. ‘Men really only fancy what they haven’t had.’

I bit her.

She bit me.

We were pretty far down the path when she grabbed my hand – she was strong – as strong as a warrior. ‘That hurts. I’m done, sweet.’

I laughed and kissed her. ‘I suppose I owe you for the week you’ll be out of commission,’ I said.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not a porne,’ she said. ‘You’d be surprised how long it is since I had a man between my hips.’

I licked her lips again. ‘I’m lucky.’

She laughed. ‘Perhaps.’

‘I mean it,’ I added. ‘Come with me.’

‘You don’t know me,’ she said. ‘And people will say the most unkind things.’

I shrugged. ‘I’ll kill them.’ That made her laugh.

She wouldn’t give me an answer. We drank some wonderful red wine together, and I left to go to a dinner in Alexander’s honour.

I didn’t see her for two days. She refused my invitations and was not at home to anyone.

On the third day, Demosthenes himself agreed to lead the embassy to Alexander. Athens was racing to throw itself at the conqueror’s feet. Demosthenes could never meet my eye. Old Phokion was kind enough to shake my hand and tell me that the exploit of Mount Ossa was as worthy as any feat of arms he’d ever done.

Kineas and I boxed, and he gave me a black eye. Your pater had the fastest hands I’ve ever failed to see, and that’s no lie.

I was done. So I sent Thais a note, declaring that I was still sore and that I still wanted her to come with me. I thought a touch of humour might have an effect.

She sent me a bill for ten talents of gold. A year’s income from all of my estates.

I sent her all ten talents, and a bill for ridding her of a troublesome guest – one Athenian drachma, payable in kisses.

The next day, I packed my gear. I had no intention of riding with Demosthenes. I detested him. He made my skin crawl.

Mid-morning, while I said my goodbyes to Kineas, his father’s steward summoned the old man, who went out for a hundred heartbeats and came back.

‘Ptolemy, there is a person at my gate. She says she will wait for you. Do you wish me to admit her?’

Kineas looked puzzled. I was puzzled.

‘Not . . . Thais?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ Eumeles said. ‘A person of some . . . distinction.’ He spoke with evident distaste.

‘Ah!’ I ran down the stairs and out into the courtyard, across the yard and out through the gate.

There were twenty mules in the alley, and a dozen slaves, and Thais, robed like a matron and wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat.

‘Last chance to change your mind,’ she said.

I shrugged. ‘At ten talents an . . . encounter, I must confess that ours may be a chaste relationship.’

She nodded. ‘Platonic, perhaps?’

I laughed. Kineas laughed when I told it to him. He snorted wine over his chiton. She was that funny.

When I left Athens, I had the one thing Athens had that I wanted.

TWELVE

When I rode out through the gates of Athens – the magnificent Panathenaic gates – I hadn’t given Alexander a thought in three days. And such was my delight in Thais that I didn’t really think much about him during the idyll over Parnassus to his camp outside Thebes.

But the camp was a buzzing hive, and the first drone to land near me was Hephaestion, who had the inner guards when I rode into camp. I saluted him, and he rode over.

He looked at Thais, looked away, and back, and away.

I smiled.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked. Not at his most subtle.

‘The hetaera Thais, the jewel of Athens.’ I smiled. ‘She has agreed, of her goodness, to spend a little time with me.’’

‘She is beautiful!’ Hephaestion’s admiration was quite genuine, and he bowed deeply in the saddle. ‘Despoina, that you condescend to grace our rude camp is like having Aphrodite herself—’

‘Hush,’ Thais said, with a smile, and raised a finger to Hephaestion’s lips. ‘No hubris, and no calls on the Cyprian that I challenge her beauty – for I do not.’

Hephaestion was smitten on the spot. Who expects a courtesan to be well spoken and witty? Well, Macedonians don’t. Athenians do. There’s a lot to be said, there.

‘The king wants you,’ he said to me. ‘He’s waited for you for three days.’ Hephaestion made a face. ‘He wondered if you were coming back.’

I sighed. ‘I wonder who put that thought in his ear?’

Hephaestion frowned. ‘Not me. We need you, even if you are a fool. There’s only you, me and Cleitus who will stand up to him, now. But if I were you,’ and Hephaestion’s eyes flickered over Thais, ‘I’d take her. He needs to see something beautiful. He’s angry. And it’s not really about you – but it could become you in a heartbeat.’

Well – for Hephaestion, this was almost like friendship.

‘Thanks,’ I said. I still counted my fingers after I shook his hand. ‘I’ll change—’

‘Go straight away,’ Hephaestion said.

Uh-oh.

So I rode to the royal pavilion with Thais at my side, and helped her down from her horse. She didn’t make a fuss about her appearance or her fatigue – a miracle – but strode in behind me.

Black Cleitus was at the tent door. He clasped my hand and beamed at Thais.

‘By the gods,’ he said. ‘Alexander! It’s Ptolemy, with a goddess.’

Alexander called, ‘Come.’

I went in first. Alexander was alone except for two slaves, both armourer’s men, who were fitting him for a helmet. Theban smiths make good work, but these men were Athenians – I could see their samples. The best armourers in the world.

Alexander turned to me. ‘A goddess, Ptolemy?’

It seemed a promising start. ‘Lord, the hetaera Thais has agreed to spend some time with me.’

Alexander smiled. ‘She is here? The jewel of Athens came to our camp?’