Fire From Heaven 28 страница

Yes, who? thought Hephaistion; that man knows something. What was his armour ready for? Alexander was looking about the crowd; for the other brothers, Hephaistion thought. He was used to reading Alexander's thoughts in the back of his head.

'What is this? '

The press parted. Antipatros, having forced his way through a turmoil of scared guests, had reached Macedonians who at once made way for him. He had long been appointed sole Regent of Macedon, with effect from the royal army's leaving. Tall, garlanded, robed with restrained splendour, clad in authority, he looked about him. 'Where is the King? '

Alexander answered, 'Here. '

He held Antipatros' eyes a moment, then stepped back to show the body.

Antipatros bent, and rose. 'He is dead, ' he said unbelievingly. 'Dead. ' He passed his hand over his brow. It touched his festal wreath; with a gesture of dazed convention, he dropped it on the ground. 'Who–'

'Pausanias killed him. '

'Pausanias? After so long? ' He stopped abruptly, discomposed by what he had said.

'Was he taken alive? ' said Alexandros of Lynkestis, just too quickly.

Alexander delayed the answer, to watch his face. Then, 'I want the gates of the city closed, and the walls manned. No one to leave till I give the order. ' He scanned the crowd. 'Alketas, your division. Post them now. '

The egg is hatched, thought Antipatros, and I was right. 'Alexander, you must be in danger here. Will you come up to the castle? '

'In good time. What are those men about? '

Outside, the second-in-command of the Royal Guard was trying to get them in hand, with the help of what junior officers he could find. But the soldiers had lost their heads entirely, and were listening to some of their number who cried out that they would all be accused of conspiracy in the murder. They turned with curses on the young men who had killed Pausanias; it would look as if they had needed to stop his mouth. The officers were trying vainly to shout them down.

Alexander stepped from the sharp blue shadow of the parodos into the cool brilliant early light. The sun had scarcely climbed since he had walked into the theatre. He vaulted up on the low wall by the gateway. The noise changed, and died down.

'Alexander! ' said Antipatros sharply. 'Take care! Don't expose yourself. '

'Guard – by the right – form phalanx! '

The scuffling mass took shape, like a scared horse calmed by its rider.

'I honour your grief. But don't grieve like women. You did your duty; I know what your orders were. I myself heard them. Meleagros, an escort for the King's body. Bring him to the castle. The small audience room. ' Seeing the man look about for some makeshift litter, he said, 'There is a bier behind the stage, with the things for tragedy. '

He stooped over the body, pulled out a fold from the purple cloak crumpled under it, and covered the face with its bitter eye. The men of the escort closed round their charge, hiding it from sight.

Stepping out before the silent ranks of the Guard, he said, 'Fall out, the men who struck down the murderer. '

Between pride and dread, they stood forth uncertainly.

'We owe you a debt. Don't fear it will be forgotten. Perdikkas. ' His face smoothed with relief, the young man came forward. 'I left Oxhead in the road outside. Will you see him safe for me? Take a guard of four. '

'Yes, Alexander. ' He went off in a blaze of gratitude.

There was a felt silence; Antipatros was looking oddly under his brows.

'Alexander. The Queen your mother is in the theatre. Had she not better have a guard? '

Alexander walked past him, and looked in through the parodos. He stood there in perfect stillness. There was a stir about the entry; the soldiers had found the tragic bier, ornately painted and draped with black. They set it down by Philip's body and heaved him on to it. The cloak fell from the face; the officer pulled down the eyelids and pressed them till they closed.

Alexander, motionless, stared on into the theatre. The crowd had gone, thinking it no place to loiter in. The gods remained. In some surge of tumult, Aphrodite had been toppled from her base, and lay awkward and stiff beside it. Flung clear in her fall, young Eros leaned on her fallen throne. King Philip's image sat stockily in its place, its painted eyes fixed on the empty tiers.

Alexander turned away. His colour had changed, but his voice was even. 'Yes; I see she is still there. '

'She must be in distress, ' said Antipatros. He spoke without expression.

Alexander gazed at him thoughtfully. Presently, as if something had just chanced to catch his eye, he looked aside.

'You are right, Antipatros. She should be in the safest hands. So I shall be grateful if you, yourself, will escort her up to the citadel. Take what men you think sufficient. '

Antipatros' mouth opened. Alexander waited, his head tilted slightly, his eyes unwavering. Antipatros said, 'If you wish, Alexander, ' and went upon his errand.

There was a moment's lull. From his place in the crowd, Hephaistion came out a little, signalling no message, only offering his presence, as his omens prompted him. No message was returned; yet between one step and the next, he saw God thanked for him. His own destiny, too, was opening out before him, in unmeasured vistas of sun and smoke. He would not look back wherever it should take him; his heart accepted it with all its freight, the bright and the dark.

The officer of the bearer party gave an order. King Philip on his gilded bier jogged round the corner. From the sacred vineyard, borne on a hurdle and covered with his torn cloak, his blood dripping through the plaited withies, some troopers brought Pausanias. He too would have to be shown before the people. Alexander said, 'Prepare a cross. '

The noises had died to a restless hum, mingled with the roar of the Aigai falls. Lifting above it his strong unearthly cry, a golden eagle swooped over. In its talons was a lashing snake, snatched from the rocks. Each head lunged for the other, seeking in vain the mortal stroke. Alexander, his ear caught by the sound, gazed up intently, to see the outcome of the fight. But, still in combat, the two antagonists spired up into the cloudless sky, above the peaks of the mountains; became a speck in the dazzle, and were lost to sight.

'All is done here, ' he said, and gave orders to march up to the citadel.

As they reached the ramparts which overlooked the Pella plain, the new summer sun stretched out its glittering pathway across the eastern sea.

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