When a wound will not heal, we amputate the limb it is on. So that no one might know our secret-that the Amazons no longer had a queen-we removed the letter T from our names. We lost our family and our freedom. By choosing to be loyal to the queen, we became nameless birds in Alexander's aviary.
I turned and glared furiously at Alestria, but she was staring impassively into space.
Alestria, wake up!
Alexander, torturer of the Amazons, I hate you not only in this life but into the next!
When he saw me coming back to the encampment with a woman on Bucephalus, surrounded by a crowd prostrating itself to welcome me, Bagoas went mad. He sprang up and ran to my tent, screaming. He ransacked my furniture and stabbed a slave who tried to stop him. Then he clawed at his own face and rolled on the ground, beating his chest with his fists. The Macedonian generals lowered their heads, the Persian military commanders looked away, women covered their children's eyes and withdrew. Hephaestion and his guards managed to catch the ranting Bagoas and administer a substantial dose of a drug to calm him. That night silence reigned: not a murmur, not one clink of armor. My generals sat in painful, silent indignation. My soldiers wondered what lay in store for the empire.
But I had made my decision, and no one could sway me. Neither the Persians' amazement nor the Macedonians' anger, neither Bagoas's screaming nor Hephaestion's reasoning, could make me change my mind: Alestria would be my queen.
I summoned Oxyartes, the satrap of Bactria, and ordered him to recognize Alestria as one of his daughters. I chose the Persian name Roxana, "resplendent one," for my future wife.
Our marriage saw sumptuous celebrations in every conquered city in the Orient and right through to the West. Every people had to celebrate the union of Alexander the Great with an Asian woman, a symbolic gesture from the king who encouraged them all to follow his example.
The celebrations in our encampment proved lackluster: the singing was far from exalted and the dancing listless. Cassander did not attend the banquet; neither did Bagoas, who had a fever and was unable to leave his bed. The Persian satraps came to touch the tips of my golden shoes and kiss the hem of the queen's robes, then slipped away into the night. The Macedonian generals renewed their vows of loyalty to me, but their droning voices betrayed their disappointment: they would have liked a Macedonian queen who could have produced a prince with brown hair and green eyes. They would have liked one of their own to have found a way to temper her husband's ambitions, slow his headlong journey east and take his troops back west.
I let my eye rove over the shadows lit with firelight. Ox and mutton turned on spits, silhouettes spun in and out of the sparks. Alestria sat in pride of place beside me, wearing a crimson robe embroidered with three phoenixes in gold and silver thread, and stitched with precious stones. Her cheeks were painted and her eyes made up in Persian style. Her dark eyes shone as she viewed this gathering of dignitaries and drunken soldiers with pride and indulgence. I slipped my hand discreetly under her veil trimmed with gold bells and found hers. Our fingers sought each other and linked together, whispering to each other and silencing the hubbub of the outside world.
I communicated my distress to Alestria: it was a long time since I had shared the same vision as the Macedonians. My own people thought of deserting the battlefields and returning to their native land even more than the Greeks and Persians. They had not fallen for the exotic fruit or spiced food, the fragrant orchids and soft tunics or the solid shoes that were so much more hygienic. They felt they had fought long enough and accumulated enough wealth. The lure of all the comforts they could now afford weakened their resolve: they no longer wanted to die, they did not want to suffer anymore.
Her hand stroked mine and replied: I shall suffer for you. I shall die for you. I shall follow you to the ends of the earth. Keep advancing toward the sun, do not stop.
How can I send the Macedonians away? I cried without words. They chose me when I was a young king with no glory. They bear the memories of terrible battles on their lacerated skin. They supported me in my rise to power, and fought for my title as King of Asia. Without them I would be simply Alexander, son of Philip.
Do not look to your past, she replied; turn to the future. You are Alexander, and you are also Alestria. Everything that is beautiful in my body and soul, everything that I have lived, the vastness of my native land, the blessings of my millennial ancestors… all these are yours. Enriched by Alestria, you are the most powerful man on earth. I am the happiest woman under the heavens. We shall set out alone, side by side, without armies or slaves, to meet the sun.
I squeezed her hand hard, feeling its rough skin and calluses, its strength and determination-a hand so like my own.
A band of guards suddenly appeared, cutting through the crowd to tell us a group of foreigners had arrived and wanted to present the queen with a gift in private. It was a huge gold-painted box, and I asked for it to be delivered to my tent. Inside it lay a man with delicate features, wearing a blue turban adorned with golden leaves. It was Darius, already dead, a gold-handled dagger in his left breast. His face was drained of blood but artfully made up; his eyes were half closed, and he seemed to be smiling.
One of the men veiled from head to foot presented Alestria with a clay tablet. She inhaled sharply, and I asked her to read the signs engraved on the tablet.
I did not call for Bagoas to confirm the identity of the body; it no longer mattered to me whether Darius was dead or alive. Let him be buried in secret with the honor and ceremony that befits his rank. His poem was intended for me: Alestria had chosen me, I no longer had a rival.
The campfires went out, and dawn broke.
Outside my nuptial tent soldiers busied themselves and horses champed impatiently. I leaped to my feet and eased on my battle dress.
Alestria, I entrust you with my encampment, which will now be called the Queen's City. I leave you the women and children, the laborers and vendors and the ten thousand guards. I am advancing into battle, and you will join me later.
Alestria, my queen, do not cry. We shall see each other in thirty days. Your god will protect me from the arrows of the enemies to my front, and my god will stop the lances thrown by conspirators to my rear. Wait for me, my little rain swallow, my red laurel. I shall return to shower your body with my seed. Our love will come to life, and that life will outlast all the seasons of eternity.
I lifted the door of the tent, and my eunuchs fell to their knees and prostrated themselves on both sides of the red carpet that led to Bucephalus. I jumped into the saddle and turned round one last time.
Alestria was standing outside the tent. She looked so small, weeping in the wind, and the sight of her pained me. She ran over to me, barefoot. To fight the urge to take her in my arms, I turned Bucephalus and kicked him straight into a gallop.
Our horses jostled, our lances clashed, barked orders rang in the air. The barbarian horns announced our departure for a still more difficult war. The morning sun devoured me, and my dazzled eyes saw that succession of armies and cities and peoples. I had freed myself from them to marry a queen without a kingdom. Now I had to tear myself from her to fight other armies and conquer other cities.