Author: Rothalion
Title: Shadowboxing
Summary: Switching back to
Alexander POV here. Beginning
to feel as though I shouldn’t have tackled these voices just yet.
Rating: PG-17 for safety
Disclaimer: Don’t own him.
After all, besides Hephaistion who could?
Shadowboxing Chapter Four
Healing and Dealing
The doctor is as insane as
my mother. The old fool - where he’d dug up the courage from I’ll never know - had
me dragged from my own room and away from Hephaistion’s
side, by my own guard. I should have him flayed. I need to be with Hephaistion. Nothing should be able to keep us parted, not
the whole of the Persian army, not the call of Sirens, and damn sure not one
old fool of a doctor. I pound on the thick door until Ptolemy grabs my shoulders
and spins me round to face him. Perdicass is there, Cassander and Craterus as well.
They hold no love for my Hephaistion and their
presence is tantamount to that of circling vultures. They come here like
looters after a battle and it is my heart they seek to divvy up between
themselves. I won’t have it, and screaming at them in Macedonian I send the
creatures away except for Ptolemy. He holds me up a bit as I slide with my back
against the door down to the stone floor sobbing in frustration, anger and ineffectualness.
I want my vengeance and I want it now. Hephaistion
though, has tied my hands, and those bindings - the trust found in any oath
between us - defy even the tangle of the Gordian knot.
“Alexander, let the
doctors work. Come now Alexander. They cannot treat
him with you clutching him as you were. Alexander!”
He shakes me by my
shoulders and slowly, like a baggage train weighed down by women and plodding
up a mountain pass, I began to find my center. I sigh
a deep and shuddering sigh and look into his gray eyes. I see in them that he
knows who has done this. That whether by spying or simple
logic he has pieced together the puzzle.
“Ceitus. What will you do
about Cleitus?
Alexander, he cannot be allowed to go unpunished. This is more than a
simple beating Alexander. They left him for dead.” He surprises me by sitting
down beside me and putting his arm around my shoulders. “You cannot leave Hephaistion alone in this like you normally would. This is too much! It borders, Alexander, on
treason. He is your second now, Alexander. What will you do?”
I look at him and I can
see that he reads the confusion in my eyes.
“Hephaistion
made me swear to leave it to him. His fight. His honor. My hands are bound.”
I growl in frustration and
bang my head back against the door over and over. I want to hurt as I know that
he is hurting. Such is our closeness. I want suck the pain from his body and
make him whole and pure again. I want to replace him and take the beating for
him. It was after all meant for me. It was my actions that brought it on. Like
tossing a pebble into a pool my actions always seem to ripple outwards and
drown the things I care about the most. No, I am no pebble. Truth be told I am more of a boulder, and the ripples are huge and
deadly tidal waves, such as those driven by the quaking earth. Hephaistion now has become a victim. My
beautiful Hephaistion.
I do not know how long the
doctors took, only that Ptolemy sat with me, and paced with me, as a loyal and
trusted friend should. I twisted my guts around and around like meat on a spit
as the visions of what Hephaiston had endured played
over and over again behind my red rimmed eyes. I’d seen my share of brutality
and rape. I meted out harsh and monstrous brutality. I’d heard the screams of
the boys my father and his soldiers took. Did you scream my Hephaistion,
did you scream? In my heart I know that he had. That I would have. How much longer. Gods, I so needed to be
near him. Ptolemy’s advice that if they were still working on him he
must be alive did little to ease my heart. Seeing was
believing, and my imagination began to run wild. Maybe he’d died and the
doctor and his aides had simply killed themselves to avoid my wrath. Maybe they
were trying to choose who would forfeit his life and bring the horrible news
maybe…
The sound of the door
latch swung me around and an exhausted aide to the doctor motioned for us to
enter.
Hephaistion is there. On my bed swaddled in
furs and propped up a bit by pillows. I walk hesitantly toward the bed wringing
my hands nervously like an old woman, I can hear
Ptolemy speaking in hushed whispers with the doctors. Hephaistion. He is clean now
but his face is still a mass of purple bruising and his beautiful eyes are
still swollen closed. Finally I sit
tenderly on the edge of the great bed, afraid to cause him pain. He sleeps. I
note with relief that his breathing is steady and quiet; the gurgle of death is
not present. I want to touch him but my shaking hand hovers over him. Where?
‘Where do I touch you my love and not cause you pain?’ Again tears slip from my
eyes and I feel Ptolemy’s hand on my shoulder.
“The doctor will return
later Alexander. He says Hephaistion needs rest and
fluids. He lost a great deal of blood. Will you be alright with him alone,
Alexander? I could send for…”
“No, Ptolemy. We are fine.
Just post a guard, and let his men know that he is alive and will get well. He
loves his men Ptolemy, and they love him.”
He leaves and I finally
touch my much loved friend’s battered cheek. I tell him that I am with him and
that I love him and that he will be well again soon. If he hears me, I do not
know, but it eases my tormented soul to think that he does.
It was four days before Hephaistion truly came around. Yes, he’d been in and out a
time or two but it was four long days before he knew me and could respond to my
comfort. I stayed in my room with him, sleeping on the floor so as not to
disturb him and left only for very brief meetings with my council and staff. I
put the wedding off for a bit until I was certain Hephaistion
was better. Cleitus for his part was unreadable. If
he feared my retribution he made no note of it. I had to give the fool credit; he
was doing a fine job of masking his guilt, a trait, no doubt, that he’d learned
from my father. Whenever I saw him I had but one thought. ‘Your smug silence
will not save you old friend, for if nothing else I have learned from my mother
- though I seldom employ it - the fine art of hurting and destroying those I
love.’ My first question to my Hephaistion,
when he able to speak, was just that.
“How will you punish Cleitus? You have my
blessing, and that of Zeus, in this Phai. Anything. Anything you desire, my love.”
It’s been two weeks now
and my thirst for vengeance is beginning to rule m e.Ifearthatifspan
class=SpellE>Hephaistion does not act soon I will. To be in meetings
with Cleitus and ignore his deed is tearing me apart.
I have an insane urge to write my mother and ask her advice on a suitably
horrendous mode of revenge. She is so much more vicious than I am. Yet no. She would only gloat at Hephaistion’s
misfortune and tell me that I’d brought it on myself, foul woman.
I watch him as he stands
and walks to the fireplace. The flames are small yet warm and fragrant, like a
camp fire in the cleft of some nameless mountain during a hunt. Inviting and
friendly, good memories can only be birthed by such warmth and scents. He is
still stiff and his damaged ribs plague him like fleas on a hound. I can see
that he is bothered, yet he tries to ignore the pain. I thank the gods that the
awful swelling and discoloration that marred his face has gone away somewhat.
It is the scars that I cannot see though, that cause me the most agony. The
shame I know he feels at what was done to him. We have not spoken of it yet but
I have held him tight within my arms when the nightmares dragged him, like a
reluctant bull to slaughter, from his sleep.
“Hephaistion,
you have stayed my hand in this,” I place my arms around him and rub his back.
“But by the gods, I do not know how much longer I can feign ignorance of his
guilt. Hephaistion?”
I feel him shudder in my
grasp and sigh. “You love him. You owe him your life. Granicus. And Philip owed
him his before you. What would you have me do? Shame you with selfish revenge
before the gods? Alexander, this is Cleitus.”
“And you, my love, are Hephaistion. And you my love are good, and honorable. And
you my Hephaistion have suffered their barbs and
jealous lances and vitriol since Mieza in order to
stay at my side. But this Hephaistion, crosses all bounds. A fight. An argument?
Yes you’ve suffered through them before. But this.
They left you, my love, for dead. They attacked you as an affront to me, their
King. It is treasonous Hephaistion, treasonous.”
He pulled from my grasp
and sat down on the couch. He was thinking, contemplating. Weighing options and counter options as only
he knew how. He was putting on the scales his love of me, and my love of Cleitus; his place in my heart and life and kingdom, and my
place as king. When he spoke he spoke rapidly, and with the same hissing hatred
that my mother had learned from her snakes, and used so well to dominate those
around her.
“I feel like her
Alexander. I hate her. Your mother. I lie awake at
night and plan and plot how best to make him suffer. How to
make you happy with my choice of punishment. He defiled me. He took from
me the one thing that should have been yours aside from my heart. The one thing
that not even Philip dared touch for his love of you. I too am Alexander you
say, but would Alexander so readily forget the life debt that he owes this man? Would Philip? Your mother would. As quickly as one of her vile snakes can strike a man down.
Am I nothing more than a weak and needy replica of her? So
needing of your love and devotion and attention. I want to hurt him
Alexander, but…I do have a plan. If you would agree.”
“Anything.” I sat down beside him and poured
us each a cup of wine. “Anything, Phai, just name
it.” And now I too felt like her. A fetid conspirator
plotting away a life. So be it. He had harmed my Hephaistion
and threatened my position. I shuddered and reminded myself which slight was
more important.
He began, and I had to
admit his ploy was clever and vicious. Spare Cleitus,
but make him punish the six men with him. They were a tight lot and would band together
in death for one another if need be. One of which was his own boy. The two were
close and Cleitus loved him dearly. They had been
together since we’d departed
It would be a week more
before Hephaistion was well enough to attend a
council meeting and felt strong enough to enact his revenge. When he entered
the meeting room that afternoon there was an audible gasp at his appearance
from those present. None had seen him since the beating save Ptolemy. He was
still battered even after three weeks. I wondered if some of them reconsidered
their glee at his pain once they’d seen him. Cleitus
and his men had done a good job and the stitches and bruising would take a bit
of time yet to be fully gone.
He took up his position
away from us as he always had, the difference being that he sat in a chair when
he would normally stand. Cleitus seemed uncomfortable
but hid it well. He had to have known that Hephaistion
would return. Why did he seemed shocked?
“Hephaistion,”
I shattered the silence, “it is good to once again have you in our presence.
You are well I take it?”
“Yes, Alexander. Well and
ready to resume whatever function you desire of me.” Ah yes, always the loyal
and able follower.
“Good. By some few of us,
you have been sorely missed.” My eyes met Cleitus’
and held him pegged there for a long moment. “Yet others…well.”
We moved through the
afternoon’s business quickly and when the last topic was broached I stood and
walked to the door. The sun was high and hot. Just as we’d
hoped for. Without turning back to the room I spoke slowly and
deliberately.
“Is there any other
business?”
I heard him stand and felt
him move past me. Then his voice sounded as loud and strong and clear as the
bravest trumpeters call in battle. It filled me with pride and love for him
just then. Fear as well. My Hephaistion.
He would have his revenge, but at what cost. Pebbles and ripples again filled my
mind.
“Cleitus,
assemble your men for my review.” I waited to hear the older man argue against Hephaistion’s authority. He was silent. “Unarmed,
un-horsed and naked. Immediately.”
“What? Has this beating
you’ve suffered rattled your already arrogant brain boy? Do you, have you, you untried and coddled
upstart, any command over me? What right to order me…”
I turned then and watched
as Hephaistion stood now toe to toe with Cleitus and made his case.
“You, General, have been
given an order by me, General Hephaistion Amytor, second to our King Alexander. Untried I am not. An
upstart I am not, but by virtue, General Cleitus, of
my recent appointment, I do in fact out rank you. Now you have your orders, I
suggest you see to them. Dismissed.”
Cleitus was furious beyond belief. His
fists were clenched with enough force to
“Is Hephaistion
not my second?” They nodded. “Then does he not command, should he desire,
over…all of you? He will not, I am sure, abuse his position without warrant. If
I felt that he would,” and my eyes met each of theirs, “I would not have
trusted him with it. Come now, in a few moments we have a review to attend.
Look lively and heed this day’s lesson well!”
As I made my way to the
open area where Cleitus would assemble his men I felt
a sudden wave of panic. Yes, Cleitus would pay, but
the hate and jealousy these men felt for Hephaistion
would increase. I began to consider just calling Cleitus
out and making it known that he’d condoned the attack on Hephaistion.
I’d promised him his way though, and we would just have to ride out the
consequences dealt to us by fate.
Cleitus had them ready in a short time. We
rode up on horses and dismounted before them. Hephaistion
strode directly toward Cleitus who stood before his
men at attention but still clothed. Pulling smuggly
at the sleeve of the angry man’s robe he said, “Your orders, General Cleitus, were naked. Do hold yourself above and apart from
your men? Neither your King nor I certainly would. Disrobe.”
Cleitus did and we began to cull the six
men we sought from the ranks. It did not take long. Hephaistion
has a sharp eye when it came to remembering a face and being beaten had not
dulled it. We left them all standing in the hot sun while we waited for the
next part of Hephaistion’s plan to complete itself. When they’d left him for dead they’d taken
everything from him, looting him as any good soldier would do - his great robe,
his bracers, his shoes and jewlary. So as we roasted in the sun we had my house
guard search the tents and kits of the six in question. They arrived, and
placed the items found at the feet of the man whose kit it had been recovered
from. I found myself happy that Hephaistion’s walking
robe had been found in Cleitus’ boy’s kit. Vengeance
was getting sweeter by the moment.
“General Hephaistion here, one of my finest commanders and a dear
friend was attacked, beaten and left for dead some three weeks past. These items
are his. These items were found in your kits. He has identified you six as his
attackers. If any one of you will come forward and declare that you were
following General Cleitus’ orders in this travesty
you will all be spared. Likewise, if General Cleitus
accepts responsibility for this act of treason, you will all be spared and he
will be summarily executed. Who will speak?”
None did. A shame really. Such devotion, and I was about to kill it
and short my army of fine men. Cleitus stood still
and arrogant trying to read my plan. There is no way that he could have though,
as it was not mine but Hephaistion’s.
“Are you all guilty then?”
Still silence. “You, Cleitus’ boy are you guilty of
this crime against me? Will you throw away your life for his?” I pointed at Cleitus who stood as blind as Prometheus to what was
occurring around him. “You possessed Hephaistion’s
cloak. A cloak I know to be his since he has carried it since our youth. Do you
admit your guilt?”
“Yes, my king. We battered
your ‘boy’. We had our way with your ‘boy’ and, good King,
it is apparent who rules in your tent. He was quite ‘tight’ and untried.”
I was furious beyond
rational thought. Even Cleitus’ front shattered a bit
at his boy’s boldness. Yes, the lad was a good Macadonian
trooper. No fear of death in this one and with his mind poisoned by Cleitus’ jealousy, his hate for Hephaistion
would cost him his life.
“Hephaistion, your sentence?”
“Death
my King. Executed by Cleitus’ very own hand.”
At this Cleitus paled. He turned to me and through his eyes he
sought redemption and forgiveness. He would find neither. He now understood
fully the nest he’d wandered into and was aware that his only way out was
death. But a hardened and tried survivor such as he is does not go quietly to
his doom. No the general in him took over and he figured that six lives were
indeed worth his. Even if he lost his beloved, brave boy.
Boys were easy enough to procure.
So it came that we
assembled and looked on as Cleitus the Black cut the
throats of all six of his compatriots involved in Hephaistion’s
beating. Cut them all with his own dagger, his boy being last by Hephaistion’s order.