Before he could think, before he could react, the hands were round his throat. Strong fingers were digging in, trying to squeeze the life out of him, sharp nails were tearing his skin. Fighting for breath, he stared, uncomprehending, into fear-crazed eyes. This couldn't be happening, but it was. He was going to have to do something, before she killed him…before Alexander drowned. It went against everything he knew to use violence on a woman, but she gave him no option, and desperation gave him the will. He brought his arms up, in between hers, and then pushed sideways with great force, dragging her hands off his neck.
"Are you…crazy?" he croaked. "Alexander…you must have seen him fall! We have to help him!"
"Let him drown!" spat Eurydice. "He will be happier so. He can go to join his love…ah, so touching! He will never be king. My son will be king, not hers. Hers will be dead, and the bitch's heart will break, isn't that lovely?"
Nearchus stared, horror-struck. Who could have known what was hidden behind that serene façade? Maybe she really had gone crazy. But he had no time to ponder that, right now.
"Get away from me!" he snarled, and pushed her over, so she couldn't hinder him. Then he turned and stared wildly down into the fast-flowing water. As he'd feared, Alexander was out of sight. But maybe, just maybe he wasn't drowned yet. Maybe the river was just carrying him along. If so – and that slight chance was all the hope he had – he'd overtake faster on foot. Leaving Eurydice behind him, he ran as fast as he could downstream.
~*~*~
Tears…why did Hephaistion have tears in his eyes? Wasn't he glad that Alexander was coming to join him? Every moment now he was closer, he could feel it. The auburn tresses were floating round his face, strong arms and legs entwined him, holding him in a tight embrace…but something felt different. Hephaistion felt bigger, stronger…what was happening? Alexander's head broke the surface of the water, and he gasped for breath, trying to clear his mind. He thought he heard a shout, but rapidly the rush and bubble of the water closed his ears again. He tried to see a face, but the ripples scattered and fractured the image. He could hear nothing but the water, and yet a voice was speaking, which he heard in his heart, in his soul.
He is not dead…not dead. Whatever happens, never give up hope. He is not dead, I tell you, not dead…
"Who are you?" Alexander cried aloud, in his mind.
Do you not know? The voice in his heart sounded amused, as if it was smiling fondly. His time is not yet, and neither is yours. But when that day does come, be sure you will see me again. But for now, out of the water with you…
Alexander felt those strong arms push, and heave him up, and he was tossed, as if by a wave, onto a rock. The rock was hard, and dug into his belly, but he couldn't move. His arms and legs hung down, lifeless. They felt as if all bone, all muscle had been washed away in the water. His head leaned against the rock as if it were a pillow. He couldn't move at all. Only his chest gently rose and fell, as sweet air filled his lungs again.
~*~*~
"Nearchus!"
Nearchus spun round at the sound of his name, and waved frantically.
"Ptolemy! Over here! It's Alexander!"
Ptolemy came hurtling down to join him, a cartwheel of arms and legs, and Nearchus grabbed his arm and pointed.
"Down there!" he said. "I thought he was drowned for sure, but some merciful god has plucked him from the water. Can we get down there, do you think?"
"We have to," said Ptolemy. "Let's see…yes, look…if we go a little further, we can get down through those rocks, and double back."
"Come on!" said Nearchus.
"What are you doing back?" Ptolemy demanded, as they ran.
"The king sent for me… when he heard… what had happened to Hephaistion," panted Nearchus, whose legs weren't as long as Ptolemy's.
"That's good," said Ptolemy. "I need some help. He gave me the slip this afternoon. I fell asleep. When I woke, he was gone. I was so afraid he'd do himself a mischief, and I was right."
They started to scramble down to the riverside, where they could see Alexander still lying there, unmoving.
"Is he breathing?" asked Ptolemy fearfully.
Nearchus screwed up his eyes, as keen as an eagle's.
"Yes," he said confidently. "Don't worry. He's safe."
"For this time," said Ptolemy. "What if he tries again?"
"I don't think he was trying to kill himself," said Nearchus. " I could see him from quite a distance. He was thinking about it, I'm sure of that. For a long time. But then he took a step back, and before I could get to him, someone pushed him over."
"What!"
"It's true. I thought at first he'd stumbled. But when I got there, she turned on me, too."
"She!"
"That's right. Eurydice. And what she'll do to me, if she thinks I saw her try to murder Alexander, I don't like to think."
Ptolemy stared, obviously trying to take this in, but he kept moving.
"You'd better be on your guard," he said. "Are you going to tell the king?"
"Not when it's my word against hers. We'd do better sticking close to Alexander, trying to keep him safe."
"They're in this together," said Ptolemy sagely. "She and that foul uncle of hers. Probably planned right from the start to take over, and they're using events to their advantage."
"They're not the only ones who can play that game," said Nearchus grimly, splashing into the water to reach the rock. He patted the strong back that lay so still.
"Come on, Alexander. Time to go home."
~*~*~
Alexander tried to lift his head, but he didn't get very far. Nearchus got his shoulder under Alexander's arm and lifted, and Ptolemy did the same on the other side. Together, they pulled Alexander off the rock, but he still couldn't take his weight on his legs, and sank straight to his knees. Then he doubled over and vomited out a lot of river water.
Ptolemy crouched down and held his shoulders for him.
"That's better," he said. "Get rid of it, and you'll soon feel better."
Alexander aimed at wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and missed. Then he grabbed Ptolemy's arm, and looked between him and Nearchus, his face alight with a happiness that hadn't been there for weeks.
"He's alive!"
"What?" said Nearchus.
"Who is?" said Ptolemy. "Do you mean…?"
"Hephaistion's alive," beamed Alexander. He tried to get up, and with help, he managed it. "How could I ever have doubted it? Not dead, not drowned in the cold sea, not my love, not my beautiful love…"
Nearchus met Ptolemy's eyes above Alexander's head, and saw his own thoughts reflected there.
Lost it. Totally lost it. Banged his head on a rock, probably. Delerious.
"That's wonderful, Alexander," said Ptolemy. "Sit down, rest awhile. Get your breath back."
"No, I'm all right now, honestly," said Alexander. "I'm a bit wet, but it'll soon dry. Let's go home."
'A bit wet' was an understatement if ever he'd heard one, thought Nearchus. Alexander's chiton was just a sodden rag twisted around his waist, water was dripping off every part of him, and his golden hair was darkened and plastered to his head.
"He ought to keep moving, Ptolemy," said Nearchus. "You can get a nasty fever if you get cold after a soaking. We have to get you back, Alexander, get you warm and dry. D'you think you could get up those rocks if we help you?"
"Yes, of course," said Alexander, though his strength didn't match his spirit, and they had to push and pull him between them to get him over the worst bits. But they managed it, and headed back to Pella as fast as Alexander could go.
~*~*~
As they drew near the palace, Ptolemy, who'd been thinking, steered them towards the barracks. There was no-one about, and he soon found an empty room, and foraged for towels and blankets, so he could rub Alexander down and then make him wrap himself up to get warm. Nearchus wrung the water out of his chiton for him, and spread it out on a bush, to dry in the sun, then went to do some foraging too. He came back with some wine. It was in a leather bottle, and he had no cups, so he and Ptolemy helped Alexander drink it. They wanted him to warm his insides, not get drunk.
When the warm olive glow had come back into his cheeks, Ptolemy spoke.
"Alexander, do you know how you came to be in the water?"
"Mmm, somebody pushed me. Ptolemy, isn't it wonderful, he's alive!"
"Alexander, if it's true that Hephaistion didn't drown, then it's the best news I ever heard," said Ptolemy gently. "But try to think. Do you know who pushed you?"
"No," said Alexander. "Do you?"
"It was your father's wife," said Nearchus. "I didn't see her do it, but I saw you stumble, saw you fall, and she was right there. She tried to throttle me to stop me helping you."
"I can see the marks coming out on your throat," said Ptolemy.
Alexander looked too, and seemed to calm down a little, seemed to start thinking. Ptolemy seized the advantage.
"You don't want Hephaistion to come back only to find that you're dead, do you?" he demanded. "Eurydice tried to kill you. She wants your life, Alexander, and you have to realise that, have to be wary. She could easily try again."
"That's why you brought me in here," said Alexander, seeming to take in for the first time where he was. "To warn me."
"Watch your wine," said Nearchus seriously, handing him the bottle. "Poison is a woman's weapon."
"I will," said Alexander, taking a swig cheerfully. "She doesn't hate me, she hates my mother, and my mother hates her. Why do we not just give each of them a sword and let them fight it out?"
"Your mother would probably do it," said Ptolemy. "But I think there might be more to it than that. I think Attalus told her to watch out for chances to do you harm. Otherwise, why would she have followed you to the river? Did she guess what you had in mind?"
His bright blue eyes bored into Alexander, knowingly, challengingly. Alexander looked uncomfortable.
"I thought I saw Hephaistion. In the water. It's true, it did cross my mind, how easy it would be, just to join him. But something stopped me, I stepped back, I swear it."
"I know," said Nearchus. "I saw you do it, we believe you. But it's almost as if she was ready for it. As if she knew something was going to happen to Hephaistion."
"Maybe it was meant to, all along," said Ptolemy grimly. "Subtle, very subtle, and just what I'd expect from Attalus. The shipwreck suited his plans, but even if it hadn't happened, I think that soon we'd have had the news that Hephaistion had died in some accident or other. And Eurydice was ready for that, to catch you off your guard in your grief, or step in and make murder look like suicide."
"It nearly worked," said Alexander. "I'd have drowned if he hadn't saved me."
"He saved you? Hephaistion saved you?" asked Nearchus.
"Well, I thought it was Hephaistion at first," said Alexander. "But actually, it wasn't. It was Patroclus. Laugh if you want to, but I know it's true, and I know that what he told me is true, too. Hephaistion's not dead."
"Strange things happen to drowning men," said Nearchus. "There are many stories of it. I can see that something powerful happened to you, and who am I to question that? But Hephaistion's name was on the list of the dead."
"Because Attalus wanted it to be," said Ptolemy. "I'm starting to think you're right, Alexander."
"I thought it strange, at the time, that his name should be last on the list," said
Alexander. "It seemed like an insult. But now, I am wondering…what if Attalus simply added it?"
"Then it would be in a different hand," said Ptolemy. "For why would he have written the whole list? A scribe would do that."
"There's an easy way to find out," said Nearchus. "Where will the list be, now? The original one, I mean?"
"In my father's chest, the one where he keeps the army records," said Alexander. "Come on, let's go and see."
He cast off the blankets, and they went outside. Alexander wrapped himself in his now-dry clothing, and the three of them raced off to the palace.
"Wait a moment," said Ptolemy, when they got there. "You can't go in to your father looking like that, Alexander, he'll want to know what happened. I'll ask the king for the list, while you tidy yourself up."
Alexander realised that Ptolemy was right.
"Come up to my room as soon as you've got it," he said, and they split up.
Ptolemy knocked on the door, hoping there would only be a secretary, but Philip was there himself. Thinking up plausible excuses, Ptolemy asked for the list.
"Why do you want it?" asked the king, frowning. "Is it for Alexander?"
"Yes, sir," said Ptolemy. "I thought we might read out all the names. Not just Hephaistion's. I thought it might help Alexander to realise that his grief is part of a bigger grief, that Macedon lost so many. Then we could go and sacrifice, and it might make up for not being able to have a funeral, where he could say goodbye. It might help him close the door. He'll still grieve, but it would be a start if he could accept that Hephaistion isn't coming back."
Philip got up at once, and went to a chest. It didn't take him long to find the list, and he handed it to Ptolemy with a warm clasp to his shoulder.
"You're a good friend to Alexander. It's a good idea, and I hope it works. Tell the lad he can take any animal he wants from my flocks for his sacrifice."
"Thank you, sir," said Ptolemy, ducking his head. "I'll do that."
~*~*~
Ptolemy chased through the palace, and in a very short time, three heads bent together over the list. They stared, looked at each other, and stared again.
"It is a different hand," breathed Nearchus.
"It is even a different ink, when you look really closely," said Alexander. "Added to the official list, to make us think him dead." He whirled around, and strode across the room. "I will kill Attalus for this. I swear it. This time, he has gone too far."
"Alexander, listen," said Ptolemy hesitantly. "If Hephaistion didn't drown, but Attalus added his name to the list, then it can only be because…"
"…because he intended to kill him. And that is why Attalus will die. But don't fear, Ptolemy – Patroclus didn't say, 'he's not drowned', but 'he's not dead'. No man can fight shipwreck, but Hephaistion is more than a match for Attalus, any day."
Not if he's a prisoner, thought Ptolemy, but he didn't say it. But Alexander caught the worry on his face, and thought of it for himself.
"He could still be in danger. Perhaps that is why Patroclus warned me! What am I waiting for, I must get over to Ionia! A fast boat, I could be there in three days!"
"You can't be there and back before the wedding," Ptolemy pointed out. "You know there are all kinds of important people coming, your father will never give you leave to go, and you can't defy him."
"Damn," said Alexander softly. His sister's wedding, postponed because of the tragedy, was now only a few days off. "It's true that I have been in enough trouble lately. If I absent myself now he'll never forgive me. And it's not as if he'd understand the reason."
"No," Ptolemy agreed. "He'd think you deluded by grief, and he doesn't see Attalus as we see him."
"I'll go," said Nearchus. "I can get there even faster than you could, because I can sail a boat myself. I'll go down to the harbour, hire a boat and a boy to help me, and sail right for the camp. And I'll find out the truth of all this, once and for all, and help Hephaistion if he needs it."
Alexander gripped Nearchus' hands. "I will never forget this," he said. "My friend, you are the best sailor of all of us, and if I ever have a fleet, it is yours. How soon can you leave?"
"I will leave at dawn," said Nearchus. "There will be no problem finding a boat to hire, for people are wary of the sea so soon after a shipwreck. But I will need gold, Alexander, to do the hiring."
"That is easy to provide," said Alexander. "I wish I could go myself, but at least I can provide you with the means of going. Give him my love, Nearchus, and tell him I can't wait to see him again." Then he stopped, and bit his lip, as if afraid he had given offence. "I don't mean I don't love you two, too. I do…it's just…"
"We understand, Alexander," said Nearchus. "Honestly. It's all right."
For a moment, there was an awkward silence, each of them afraid of saying too much. But then Ptolemy, with the wisdom of an extra couple of years, saw that there were times when you had to trust people, and say what you meant.
"We love you, too," he explained. "But we don't want to go to bed with you."
All three of them burst out laughing, then. Convinced as they now were that Hephaistion was alive, their joy and relief burst out of them, and they laughed so long they nearly cried.
"You knew?" said Alexander, as soon as he could. His face was nearly scarlet with emotion and embarrassment.
"Alexander, everyone knows," said Ptolemy. "You two can't see the way you look at each other, but everyone else can."
"And we thought we'd been so secret," laughed Alexander. "Well, you can't keep a secret in Pella. But what do I care any more, if the whole world knows we're lovers, so long as he's alive."
~*~*~
Wanting to keep well away from Eurydice, the three young men kept themselves apart that night. King Philip, knowing of Ptolemy's plans, would allow no-one to summon them, so they were undisturbed. They brought food from the common store, and therefore free from poison, and ate, and planned, and took it in turns to rest. Ptolemy, unwilling to be a liar, thought how what he'd told the king could be used to meet a different need. Nearchus looked at Alexander's map, and dreamed of the sea lanes. Alexander just dreamed about Hephaistion.
Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, they left the palace. A guard saluted Alexander, but made no comment. They gathered everything they needed, and went first to the sacrificing-place. There, by the light of a torch, they took it in turns to read out the names of the dead.
Alexander, taking his turn with the others, found himself humbled as the names dropped one upon the other, name after name. All these really were dead. All these, men of Greece, dreaming of glory just as they were, cut off in their prime. All of them loved, all of them mourned by those who loved them. Alexander was shocked at how he had let his own grief blind him to the grief of others. That was not how a prince should think, that was not how a leader should behave. He vowed silently before the gods that he would never be so selfish again. And deep inside himself, he thanked the Hero Patroclus, who had saved his life and given him back his Hephaistion.
At the name before Hephaistion's, they stopped, and poured out wine, in thanksgiving for his safety, and in the hope that he would be kept safe still. Then, they made the sacrifice, earnestly enquiring if the omens were good for Nearchus' voyage. But all was well. The gods were with them, they all felt it, and it was safe to proceed. By the time they had finished, the sky was growing lighter, and tendrils of mist could be seen across the fields. It was time. They rinsed their blood-stained hands, and began to walk down to the harbour.
It was full light before they found the right boat, but Alexander was pleased with it. It was sturdy and strong, and its owner, who was recovering from a sickness, was glad to earn some money from its hire. His crew of two went with it, and they looked like honest men.
Alexander spoke to both of them, and told them he would reward them richly on their return, if they obeyed his friend and served him well. They'd been resigned to belt-tightening until their master was recovered, so they looked now as if they were blessing their good fortune, and were eager to be off.
Alexander himself loaded stores into the boat, and Ptolemy had a quiet word with Nearchus.
"Make all the haste you can," he said. "I am certain now that Hephaistion did not drown, but I am less certain that he is out of danger, and he only has Seleucus and Perdiccas to help him."
"It worries me, too," said Nearchus. "Those two clowns – what can they do? I will get there as fast as I can. And I have my sword."
"Use it, if need be, on Attalus," advised Ptolemy. "We will all be exiled for ever if you do, Alexander included, but he could bear that easier than he could bear losing Hephaistion for a second time. I fear that finding his loss was real after all would make him lose his mind."
"He is my captain, not Philip," said Nearchus. "If I can save Hephaistion for him, I will, even if it cost me my own life."
Ptolemy clasped him to his chest.
"Farewell, my friend," he said.
"Farewell, Ptolemy. Take good care of Alexander."
"To the death," Ptolemy vowed.
Alexander hugged Nearchus, and kissed his cheek.
"What you do for me goes beyond service," he said. "You are a true friend, and such I value above anything."
"Be of good cheer, Alexander," grinned Nearchus. "See, the wind is freshening, and will fill the sail. We will make good speed to Ionia, and Hephaistion shall see that he also has friends." He leaped into the boat, and set his hand upon the tiller.
"And whatever you do, Alexander, keep away from Eurydice!" he called back, as the boat started to move. "Don't let her murder you!"
But the death, when it came, was not Alexander's.
*************************
Softly, slowly, silently, Hephaistion felt for the dagger, while keeping his eyes fixed in wonder on Attalus' face. His fingers closed around the hilt; he lifted the dagger, and let his hand lie casually down at the side of the bed, out of sight. He could strike now, if he had to.
"I am all right, sir," he said. HIs own voice sounded like a frog's croak; it felt like a long time since he'd said anything. "I had a bad dream, I think…have I been ill? But I feel fine now, so if you could let go of me, sir, I will get up and attend to my duties."
"Oh, no, dear one." The silky whisper made Hephaistion feel sick. "You're not going anywhere. At last, you are mine. Do you not know how long I have watched you, how long I have wanted you? You are perfection, and at last I can have you."
"No, you can't," said Hephaistion stoutly. "Never. I belong to Alexander, and he to me. This is something you cannot possibly understand. D'you think you're the first old man to talk to me like this? Well, you're not, and you won't succeed, any more than the others did. But if you let go of me at once, I'm prepared to say no more about it."
Attalus laughed, a high-pitched, crazy laugh that made Hephaistion wonder if he was quite all right in the head.
"Oh, no, I can't let you go. And have you running to Alexander, telling tales? No, once I've had you, I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you."
Hephaistion snorted in derision. "You won't get away with that! I may not be a general, but I'm not some poor child from the slums that can disappear without trace. If you kill me, Alexander will kill you. Make no mistake about that. Let me up, sir, before you bring the wrath of the gods upon yourself."
"All part of the plan, sweet child," crooned Attalus. His lips were close to Hephaistion's face; his hot, sour breath was repellent. "I hope he will be so mad with grief that he will take his own life…but if he does not, no matter. As you say, he will blame me…and if he turns upon me, I will have to kill him, too. Such a hardship…so sorry, Sire…the boy was crazed with grief…self-defence…what could I do? At least you have another heir…"
"You really are crazy," breathed Hephaistion, his hand tightening upon the dagger.
"No," said Attalus coolly. "Just very, very clever. For all of this has already happened. As far as the world knows, you're already dead, drowned in the shipwreck and lying at the bottom of the sea. And for all I know, your Alexander may already be dead from the awful shock of it."
Then Hephaistion saw again the images from his fevered dream, Alexander drowning, his golden hair floating in the water, and a furious rage swelled up inside him. He raised the dagger and plunged it into the side of Attalus' neck, twisting it hard home. Attalus choked and gurgled, and dribbled blood, his eyes bulging out of his head as his body made its last attempt at breathing. Hephaistion pushed him to the ground. He fell on his back, his hands and feet twitching feebly. Hephaistion looked down at him with contempt.
"Like I said," he whispered. "You won't get away with it."
Attalus went still. Hephaistion nodded, and stooped to retrieve the dagger. He wiped it on Attalus' hideous green cloak, then soberly closed the dead man's eyes. He tried to think what to do.
There'd been a shipwreck; more and more details were coming back into his mind, terrifying and heartbreaking images, but he tried to push them down. Those men were now beyond his help. He knew he'd been ill for a long time, but whether it was days or weeks, he couldn't be sure. He couldn't even be sure whether he was in Greece or Ionia, though he suspected the latter. They'd been nearly across before the storm had struck. If so, there was no higher authority over here to appeal to, higher than Attalus. Parmenion, perhaps, if he was already here…but would he be? This shipwreck would have thrown all the plans into disarray. Who'd been Attalus' second-in-command? Amyntas, that was it. Well, he'd get no help there, the man was Attalus' creature through and through.
He had only one desire, only one plan in his mind now, to get back to Alexander and make sure he was all right, and let him know that he himself was not drowned. But how to achieve that, that was the question. If Attalus had spoken the truth – and there was no reason he shouldn't have, the man had been enjoying his gloating – then everyone thought he was dead, and that could be an advantage. But if anyone saw him here, he'd be taken for murder, and put to death. So one thing was for sure, he had to get away from here, and fast.
He went to the door of the tent. Through a crack, he could see that it was broad daylight outside, it looked like the middle of the afternoon. The tent was tightly fastened, as though Attalus had been making sure he'd be undisturbed. Hephaistion looked around. He needed clothes, but he could see nothing of his own. That made sense; everything would have been lost at sea, he had nothing. But the things he could see lying around were a curious mixture. They didn't look as if they belonged to Attalus either, but that made sense, too, when he thought about it. The survivors would have had to make use of whatever had been salvaged, as best they could.
Cheered by the thought that he wouldn't be wearing Attalus' clothes, Hephaistion found a chiton and a belt, and put them on, and stuck the dagger in the belt. He picked up a broad straw hat and stuffed his bright hair inside it, so it wouldn't give him away, before pulling it firmly down on his head to hide his face. He knew he'd been washed while he'd been ill, he had vague memories of that, but he hadn't been shaved, and by the feel of it, there was about two weeks growth of beard to disguise him. With bare feet, he could pass for a servant if he took care to shuffle and walk humbly. Carefully, he untied the tent fastenings, and looked out, to make sure no-one was close by. Everywhere looked quiet. Probably, everyone who wasn't working was resting in the afternoon heat. He took a deep breath, and stepped outside.
~*~*~
It was hot. It was very hot, and the heat made the air move in shimmering patterns. Even the tents seemed to be moving. It was hard to walk in a straight line, hard to keep looking down, when he needed to look up, to stop the world moving about so much. Hephaistion began to feel dizzy. But he had to keep moving, he had to…if he stopped, he'd attract attention. Perhaps he wasn't as fully recovered as he'd thought. Just because he'd got his wits back didn't mean he'd got his strength back.
He stumbled on a bit of rough ground, and someone sitting outside a tent looked at him curiously. He hurried on, fighting hard for control. It was difficult; his legs didn't seem to be doing what he wanted them to do. He'd have given anything, right then, for a stout stick to lean on. And then, miraculously, one swung into his line of vision, and he reached out to it, gratefully.
"Hey, watch it!" called a voice, that sounded reassuringly familiar. "You'll have the whole tent down!"
Hephaistion swung his body round to look for the face that belonged to the voice, but his feet stayed where they were, causing him to hang on tightly to the stick to stop himself falling over. Then he saw two things, both at once. The first was that the stick was a pole, that was holding up an awning outside a tent, which was wobbling alarmingly. The second was that the voice belonged to Perdiccas. Hephaistion smiled at his friend. He'd be all right, now.
"Aaaaaargh!" screamed Perdiccas.
Hephaistion felt confused.
"What on earth's the matter with…great Zeus, Hephaistion! Where did you come from!" said Seleucus, emerging from the tent.
"It's a ghost, it's a ghost, it's a ghost," babbled Perdiccas, from the ground, where he'd fallen backwards in his haste to get away.
Seleucus shot him a withering glance. "Of course he's not a ghost!" He caught hold of Hephaistion's arm, and took his weight. "Are you all right? Sit down, man, sit down, you look ready to drop."
"Inside," Hephaistion pleaded. "Hiding."
"All right," said Seleucus, and helped him inside, and sat him down on a bedroll.
"Sorry," said Hephaistion. "Went all dizzy. Have you got any water?"
There was a jug on a table, and Seleucus poured water and handed it to Hephaistion. Perdiccas came in, cautiously, and watched every drop disappear down Hephaistion's throat. Then he moved nearer, and stuck a finger out to touch his arm.
"Are you sure you're not a ghost?" he demanded.
"Yes, Perdiccas, I'm sure," said Hephaistion, understanding now. "I know that Attalus told everyone I was dead, drowned, but it wasn't true. He nursed me secretly until I was well, because he wanted the pleasure of killing me himself, after he'd…well, never mind that bit," finished Hephaistion.
"That's why you're hiding?" said Seleucus. "To get away from him?"
"No, I just killed him," Hephaistion explained. "I was trying to get away unnoticed, before someone found the body and arrested me."
"Ah," said Seleucus. "Tricky, that. Killing the commanding officer…never goes down too well. Not that I blame you. Often felt like killing him myself, but still…Amyntas is a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, might not see it from our point of view."
"Have you got a plan?" said Perdiccas. "We'll help you."
"Of course," said Seleucus. "Anything. Just name it."
"I have to get home," said Hephaistion, looking up with gratitude for such loyal friendship. "Alexander…"
"You're right," said Seleucus. "They'll have had the news by now, and he'll be…well, I don't like to think about it."
"Exactly," said Hephaistion, with a worried frown.
"Is it true?" demanded Perdiccas suddenly. "What they say about you and Alexander?"
Hephaistion smiled. Only Perdiccas…
"Yes, it's true," he said. "And if I heard that he had drowned, my life would be no longer worth living. And he is by nature far more volatile than I. My heart is sick with fear, and I must get home as soon as possible."
"Then we must get you to the coast," said Seleucus decisively, "and see you onto a boat. Some merchant ship, perhaps, that will take a passenger for pay, and no questions asked. Are you well enough to travel, though? You look very pale."
"How long is it since the shipwreck?" asked Hephaistion.
"About a month," said Perdiccas.
"Then I am just weak and pale from lying in the dark so long," said Hephaistion. "If I could have some food, and travel by night when it is cooler, I think I could do well enough. The more I do, the more I will be able to do. Lying inactive drains the strength away, but it returns."
"Then rest now – sleep, if you can – while we keep guard," said Seleucus. "In the evening, we will eat, and then make ready for the journey. At the changing of the watch, we will march out boldly, as if we were going on duty, and try to slip out of camp unseen."
"That will be the hard part," said Perdiccas. "But if we can do that, the rest should be easy enough. It isn't far to the coast."
"I am in your debt," said Hephaistion simply. "I can't thank you enough for this."
Seleucus gripped his shoulder warmly. "We have lost many friends in that disaster," he said. "To get one back – and that it should be you – is like a gift from the gods."
~*~*~
Perdiccas came back with news, and a mess-pail of food.
"This is all I could get," he said. "Rabbit stew, better than nothing. The camp's in an uproar, gossip everywhere, but no-one really knows what's going on. The body's been found, for sure, but what Amyntas is doing about it, I've no idea. I didn't see any sign of him, though."
"He's probably questioning people, trying to find out if anyone saw anything," said Seleucus, as they spooned out the stew and began to eat hungrily. "He might very well double the guard too, which means we might get called on. Hephaistion, if anyone comes, roll under that blanket and keep very still."
"I'm not sure about this," said Hephaistion. "I don't want to get you two into trouble."
Seleucus looked at him indignantly. "We promised Alexander that we'd look after you!" he said. "How d'you think we felt when we thought you'd drowned? I'm not letting you out of my sight until we've seen you safely on a boat…in fact, it might be better if we came with you."
"It might be safer for you," said Hephaistion, "than returning to camp to face awkward questions."
"Hmm…that's true," said Seleucus. "It depends on what ship we can find. Not many would have room for three more. But it's an option – we can decide when the time comes."
~*~*~
After they'd eaten, they began to get ready. Perdiccas had been foraging, trying to get some uniform for Hephaistion. He hadn't been able to get a sword, but he'd managed a breastplate and some boots, and that would have to do, for now. Hephaistion was trying to put the boots on, in the cramped confines of the tent, when Seleucus hissed, "Someone's coming!" and Hephaistion had to roll under the blanket, fast. He tried to take small breaths, so no-one would notice the blanket moving. He felt Seleucus leaning against him, obviously trying to disguise the give-away shape.
"Seleucus?" came a voice Hephaistion didn't recognise.
"In here, sir!" called Seleucus cheerfully.
"What are you doing, stewing in here on a fine evening?" asked the officer's voice, suspiciously. "Are you trying to shirk duty? Well, it won't work with me. You're doing an extra guard duty. When the next trumpet sounds, go and relieve Apollodorus and Timaneus on the northern perimeter. Both of you."
"Yes, sir," said Seleucus. "What's going on, sir?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said the officer. Hephaistion thought he sounded worried, and that was understandable. "For now, just remember that you're to stop anyone leaving camp, just as much as stopping anyone getting in."
"Yes, sir," said Perdiccas, sounding genuinely puzzled. Hephaistion was very impressed. He kept as still as he could, though, until Seleucus sighed with relief, and pulled the blanket off him.
"Did he notice anything?" asked Hephaistion.
"Don't think so," said Seleucus. "He just thought we were skiving, which was lucky, really. Come on then, let's get finished. Are the water flasks full? Good. And we'll need some money."
Once they were ready, there was nothing to do but wait. Hephaistion thought over what he'd done, but could find no reason for regret. True, he'd attacked before Attalus had had a chance to, but the man had intended to kill him, no doubt about that. But worse than that, was the harm he'd intended to Alexander. For that betrayal, there could be no forgiveness.
"Don't worry," said Seleucus quietly, as if he could read Hephaistion's thoughts on his face. "You did the right thing. I can guess what Attalus had in mind, and why…he wanted to destroy Alexander. And now, he can't."
"If I should be brought to trial, these are things it will be hard to prove," said Hephaistion ruefully.
"Alexander will speak for you," said Perdiccas.
"Yes…but even Alexander has no power up against his father, and Philip's wrath will be immense, at the death of his general and the uncle of his wife."
There was no gainsaying that, and no-one offered false comfort. They sat in silence, until the trumpet sounded for the changing of the watch.
~*~*~
It still wasn't fully dark, but the light was fading fast, and Hephaistion didn't feel nearly as conspicuous as he had that afternoon. He walked between Seleucus and Perdiccas, trying to look relaxed, trying to look as if he had nothing but a long, boring duty on his mind. The camp seemed enormous. It wasn't – but every step felt as if it was taking so long. But finally they got beyond the lines of tents, and suddenly it seemed darker, and safer. Hephaistion found his spirits rising even more, as they located Apollodorus and Timaneus, men he didn't know, and they saluted and went off duty without giving him a second glance.
"Walk the line," whispered Seleucus, when they'd gone. "And each time, get a bit nearer to the trees. On the third turn, check no-one's looking, then slip under the cover of the woods."
Hephaistion and Perdiccas nodded agreement, and went off in one direction, while Seleucus took the other. They walked to the furthest point of their watch, turned, and walked back. They crossed with Seleucus, and repeated their movements twice more, each time just that little bit nearer to the trees. Hephaistion found his palms beginning to sweat. So near…so near…just a few more moments, and he'd be free, and on his way back, back to Alexander. His heart was banging in his chest.
When the moment came, there was no-one in sight at all. He turned, and with Perdiccas close behind him, made for the trees. Seleucus came to join them, panting as if he'd been in a race.
"We did it," he gasped.
But then came the sound of heavy footsteps crunching over leaf litter, and a big, dark shape loomed out of the shadows. Towering over them, and looking very grim, was Amyntas himself.
"And just where do you think you're going?" he demanded.