God of War: The Epic Story of Alexander the Great

‘And will live here, if you give her leave,’ I said.

Alexander nodded. ‘Well done, Ptolemy. A cunning stroke, worthy of Odysseus. I gather you were crowned with success?’

‘A deputation is behind me – ten leading men, headed by Demosthenes himself. Kineas’s father, Eumeles, is the actual speaker.’ I held out a scroll tube of ivory. ‘Athens agrees to have you as hegemon and agrees to provide five hundred cavalry for the crusade in Asia.’

‘Well done!’ Alexander shook his head. ‘You do well at anything to which you turn your hand. The hypaspists – four weeks, and you made them like gods.’

‘I had help,’ I said, but his praise was like strong wine.

‘The last time we spoke, you reminded me that, at the root of it, I am king under the sufferance of my subjects – at least, of my elite subjects.’ He was not smiling now.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You needed reminding.’

Cleitus coughed.

Alexander shook his head. ‘You are just not getting this, Ptolemy. I suspect you don’t get it because you are, in fact, so blessedly loyal to me – but a man who warns the king that he can be dethroned by force – is that the man to command the king’s inner guard – to win their absolute devotion?’

Sometimes, I am slow. In this case, I had to laugh. ‘So,’ I said. ‘That’s what this is about. You were afraid —’

‘I am afraid of nothing,’ Alexander said. He was quite calm. ‘But some of my friends are afraid.’

Our eyes met.

‘Attalus is dead,’ Alexander said. ‘Parmenio had him killed. It happened two days ago.’ The king shrugged. ‘I suspect that you were, and are, right. He had to die. Much as I hate him, I could have used him. As I will use Lord Amyntas and Lord Parmenio.’ His eyes never left mine – like a lover’s. ‘But I saw Cleitus’s look when I ordered his death – and Hephaestion’s.’ He nodded slowly, eyes still locked on mine. ‘Listen, Ptolemy. The longer I am king, the less I will understand of what happens outside this tent. The more power I’ll have, the less information to help me use it. Think of Pater – Philip – in those last days. He didn’t even know that Attalus had had Pausanias raped. No one told him until you did.’

I nodded.

‘But he didn’t love you for telling him, and I’ll never love you for it, either. Kings don’t say “I’m sorry”, and they don’t say “You are right”. Eh?’

Eyes still locked.

‘Find a way to do it,’ he said, very quietly. ‘Find a way to keep me from . . . ignorance.’

I smiled.

‘But find a way to do it without making it a war between us. I am king.’ Alexander’s eyes bored into mine, and I realised that I was doing it – challenging him – refusing to break the eye contact.

Quite deliberately, I looked away. Then back, like a flirting girl.

He smiled. ‘Now I want you to bring your goddess for dinner. But first, I want you to swear me an oath that you do not now, nor will ever, seek the throne of Macedon.’

It was right there, the possibility of my indignation boiling over. Fuck him. How dare he? I’d nearly died for him – twice.

But he was the king, and he was not responsible for the shit people poured into his ears. I knelt. ‘I swear by Zeus, lord of the gods, lord of slaves and kings, Zeus of the eagle, Zeus of the thunderbolt, may I be burned to invisible ash and no man ever remember my name if I have ever sought the throne of Macedon, or ever do so in future.’

Alexander put his hand on my shoulder and crushed it, his grip was so hard. He left a bruise.

‘Thank you,’ he said very quietly. ‘I cannot give you the hypaspists. What do you want?’

I had Thais. ‘I’ll go back to my squadron of Hetaeroi,’ I said.

Alexander nodded. ‘Excellent. Perhaps you and Laodon would put in some time improving the grooms, as well. Now – the goddess?’

Cleitus, who could hear every word, held the flap, and Thais came in. She was wearing a wool chiton, very plain; a long riding cloak of transparent wool, so light it flowed like silk, and a hat woven of bleached straw, very fine and also white. She was the only woman I knew who owned a pair of Boeotian boots made to her size – open- toed, for riding. She still had her long whip in her hand. Upon entering, she unpinned her hat and made a deep obeisance. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘You will not remember me. We met at a party.’

‘Ah – I would be unlikely ever to forget you, Despoina.’ He inclined his head gravely. ‘Your presence here is a triumph for Macedon – we have taken the finest thing Athens ever had.’

‘But my lord,’ she said, ‘Athens never had me – I am an Athenian, and I am here of my own free will. I am not an object – I am here to be a subject.’

Alexander looked at me. ‘I’ve seldom been corrected so gently. Perhaps you might teach Ptolemy your arts?’

‘Well,’ she said, and her eyelashes fluttered, ‘I could try, but women of my sort seldom train a potential rival, and Lord Ptolemy is already a very good companion.’

Alexander, who never, ever spoke of sex, blushed. And then laughed, because her joke was so subtle – the Greek word for courtesan was hetaera, but it was merely the feminine form of Hetaeroi – our word for the king’s bodyguard – his companions. Damn it – that’s funny, lad! She was comparing courtesans and bodyguards . .

Never mind. You’re too young. The king laughed his arse off, and that didn’t happen often.

‘Would we shock the world if we had the Lady Thais to dinner tonight?’ Alexander asked Hephaestion.

He looked at me as if to say I told you so. ‘No ambassadors. Possibly the last night it’s just the army. So I’d say yes.’

It was quite a dinner. Thebes rose behind us like the backdrop for an Athenian tragedy. Because of Thais, the talk was light and witty and educated. Bad as we Macedonian barbarians might be, we had all been educated by Aristotle, and even Perdiccas and Cassander could manage to sound vaguely like men of culture.

Thais helped them. She had a way of capping a quote before a man could finish it – as if she understood that he was going to say something erudite, and she loved to help him finish. Cleitus, for example, struggled to participate. Thais always liked Cleitus – almost always – and that first night, as he stuttered through a quote from the Odyssey, she smiled.

‘With you quoting Odysseus’s part, I suppose I must respond with Penelope’s,’ she said.

His relief was obvious – he got the credit for a good quote and she’d done all the work.

It’s not the best example, just the best one I remember.

She smiled around the company. ‘But I don’t want to stay at home like Penelope. If you, my lords, are going to Troy, I want to go!’

Alexander smiled and shook his head. ‘The queen of the Amazons fought for Asia,’ he said.

‘Who needs to be bound by the classics?’ she said. ‘And what of Atlante? Eh? Or Athena? Not that I compare myself to the grey-eyed, but still.’

Hephaestion smiled. ‘What would you do, in a camp of soldiers, lady?’

Thais smiled, and Hephaestion blushed. She never said a word. He looked away, and Alexander blushed.

‘Laundry,’ Thais said.

Her timing was beautiful, and the whole tent burst into an approving roar. I’d seen her at work in a symposium in Athens, and so had Alexander, but none of the others had, and they had no idea how powerful was her command of song and speech. She gave them a taste – sang a few popular love songs to her own accompaniment on the kithara – but she intended to remain a guest and not a performer, and she declined to play more.

Alexander came to her couch after she had sung, and sat on the end. ‘You spoke of our crusade in Asia,’ he said.

‘Ptolemy speaks of little else,’ she allowed. ‘And men in Athens – my friends, like Diodorus and Kineas and their faction. Men say that you will throw down the Great King, and make all Asia subject.’

He breathed in sharply, like a woman at the climax of love. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘But I love to hear it coming from you.’