Dark Prince

'The general asked me to watch over the prince, to see that no harm befell him. I have done that. But Parmenion is Alexander's only true friend among the elders. I felt it vital that he should know where to look for us.'

'And yet he brings Attalus with him,' put in Ptolemy. 'How do you read that situation?'

Hephaistion slowly placed two thick branches on the guttering fire. 'I trust Parmenion,' he said at last.

'As do I,' said Alexander, moving across the fire to sit beside the officer. 'But can I trust you, soldier?'

'Yes,' Hephaistion told him, meeting his gaze.

Alexander smiled. 'Do you have dreams, Hephaistion? Ambitions?'

'Of course, sir.'

'My dreams will take us all across the world. Will you follow me to glory?' His voice was soothing, almost seductive, and Hephaistion felt himself drifting, visions filling his head of great armies marching, tall cities burning, rivers of gold flowing before his eyes, rivers of blood swirling around his feet. 'Will you follow me?' asked Alexander again.

'Yes, sire. To the ends of the earth.'

'And maybe beyond?' the prince whispered.

'Wherever you command.'

'Good,' said Alexander, clapping the young man on the shoulder. 'Now let us wait for our visitors.'

* * *

The sleet turned to snow, icy flakes that stung as they touched exposed skin. Craterus, Ptolemy and Cassander began to strip branches from surrounding trees, trying in vain to build a small shelter but being constantly thwarted by the gusting winds.

Alexander sat silently by the tiny fire, snow settling on his cloak and hair as his eyes gazed into the flickering flames.

Hephaistion shivered, drawing his own woollen cloak more tightly about him. The prince's mood worried him: Alexander seemed in an eldritch state, uncaring of danger, seemingly comfortable even within this sudden blizzard.

The cold seeped into Hephaistion's bones and he rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air to his palms.

'This is more to your liking, is it not?' asked Alexander suddenly.

'My lord?'

'The cold, the naked sky, enemies at hand. You are a soldier — a warrior.'

'I like it a little warmer than this,' Hephaistion answered, forcing a smile.

'You prowled my rooms like a caged lion, never at ease.'

'I was doing as the lord Parmenion ordered.'

'Yes, of course. You worship him.'

'Not worship, my prince. I have much to thank him for. After my mother was killed I was forced to sell our farm at auction, in order to pay the fees at the military academy. When I came of age the deeds to the farm were returned to me. Parmenion had bought it.'

'He is a kindly man — and I understand he saved you from Paionian raiders?'

'Yes. How did you know of it? Did he tell you?'

'No,' said Alexander, 'but I like to know all about the men who follow me. Why do you think Attalus is with him?'

Hephaistion spread his hands. 'I am a soldier, not a strategos. How many men are with them? Did your vision show you?'

'They are alone.'

Hephaistion was truly surprised. 'That seems unlikely, sir. Attalus has many enemies and should rightly now judge you among them.'

Alexander leaned in close. 'Where will you stand if I go against Attalus?'

'By your side!'

'And against Philip?'

'The same answer. But do not ask me to fight Parmenion.'

'You would be with him?'

'No — that is why I do not want you to ask me.'

Alexander nodded, but said nothing. Swinging his head he saw his three Companions huddling under a rough-built shelter, but a sudden gust of wind toppled it over them. The prince's laughter rippled out. 'These are the men who would conquer the world for me,' he said.

They struggled clear of the wreckage and gathered around the fire. 'Do you not feel the cold?' Ptolemy asked Alexander. The prince grinned. 'It cannot touch me.'

The Companions began to joke about Alexander's new-found powers and Hephaistion leaned back against the rock, closing his ears to their banter, letting it wash over him like the background noise of the river, blending in with the shrieking of the wind.

He was both amazed and angry at his exchange with the prince: amazed because of the surprising way he had pledged himself to follow him, angry at himself for his easy betrayal of Parmenion. That he had grown to like and respect Alexander was understandable: the prince was a man of honour and courage. But Hephaistion had never guessed how deep this respect had become, and understood now that it bordered on love. Alexander was the sun and Hephaistion felt warm in his company. But do you not love Parmenion, he asked himself? The answer was swift in coming. Of course, but it was love born of debt, and debts can always be repaid.

The snow eased, the wind dying away. The fire crackled and grew, dancing tongues of flame licking at the wood.

Hephaistion opened his cloak, allowing the warmth to bathe his upper body.

Alexander was looking at him. 'Our guests are almost upon us,' said the prince. 'I want you to ride out behind them and scout for any larger force that might be following.'

Hephaistion's mouth was suddenly dry as he stood and bowed. 'As you command,' he answered.

And here it was, the moment of betrayal. If the Companions slew Parmenion and Attalus, it would mean civil war.

But Alexander had given Hephaistion a way out. He would not be present when the killing began. The officer felt nauseous as he strode to his mount.

But he rode away without a backward glance.

* * *

Parmenion saw the distant camp-fire and reined in his mount. The light appeared like a flickering candle and, at this distance, it was not possible to make out the men around it.

'You think that's them?' asked Attalus, riding alongside.

'It is likely,' the general answered. 'But it is possible they are a band of robbers.'

Attalus chuckled. 'Would they be a match for the two greatest swordsmen in Macedonia?'

Parmenion smiled. 'Once upon a time, my friend. I fear age has withered our skills a fraction.'

'Speak for yourself, Spartan. I am as fast now as ever.'

Parmenion glanced at the white-haired swordsman, surprised at the conviction in his voice. He actually believed the words he spoke. The Spartan offered no argument, but heeled his horse forward.

Closer they came to the camp-fire. The ears of Parmenion's stallion pricked up and he whinnied, the sound being answered from the trees beyond the fire.

'It is them,' said Parmenion. 'That was Bucephalus. He and Paxus were stable companions.'

'What if they come at us with swords?' Attalus asked.

'We die,' answered Parmenion, 'for I'll not fight Alexander.'

The clouds broke and the moon shone bright upon the snow-covered land, the nearby river glinting like polished iron. Parmenion rode to the camp-fire and dismounted. Alexander sat cross-legged before the flames, but he rose as the general approached.

'A cold night,' remarked the prince, looking past Parmenion at Attalus.

'Yes, sir,' the swordsman agreed. 'A cold night following hot words.'

'What do you wish to say to me, Attalus?'

The swordsman cleared his throat. 'I have come. . to. .' he licked his lips. 'I have come to apologize,' he said, the words flowing out swiftly as if their taste was acid upon his tongue. 'I don't know why I made that toast. I was drunk.

I was as shocked as you were, and I would do anything to withdraw the words.'

'My father sent you to say this?'

'No, it was my choice.'

Alexander nodded and turned to Parmenion. 'And you, my friend, what have you to tell me?'

'Philip is deeply sorry. He loves you, Alexander; he wants you home.'