HE SHOULD BE accustomed to it by now; kicked roughly from his sleep in the middle of the night by one of Alexander’s guards, led stumbling half asleep through the camp to his pavilion. The camp sleeps but Alexander’s household is in riot; Alexander sits on a stool comforted by a wife.
He hears Ravi’s voice: you will be his new favourite. At least, until he tires of you. The oil lamps hanging from the crossed metal spears in the entrance throw long shadows. Smoke from the pine knots burning in the brazier sting his eyes.
He barely recognizes his general. He looks haunted, and sitting there half naked he no longer appears indestructible. There is a purple scar on his leg where an arrowhead smashed his leg bone at Marakanda. They say splinters of bone still work their way out of it from time to time. And in the lamplight he can see the hollow where he was hit in the face by a stone hurled from the ramparts of some fort or other. He was blind for a while and could not talk.
He turns his head towards him. ‘Boy, I dreamed about your elephants.’
Is this why he has him out of bed at this hour? Because of a dream? He relaxes and at once becomes resentful.
‘What did you see in the dream, my lord?’
‘Colossus.’
‘He spoke to me.’
Gajendra keeps his face immobile. ‘My elephant spoke to you?’
‘He said that I had overreached myself.’
‘How is this possible?’ one of his Persians says. ‘A god cannot overreach.’
They look to him to agree. But Gajendra is not of a mind to join in. I did not leave my good sleep to come over here and kiss your arse, Alexander. ‘Did the ele— did Colossus say anything else?’
‘That I should fall at the feet of Hercules.’
‘But you are Hercules,’ says some other toady from the shadows. Alexander does not look as if this comforts him overmuch.
He pushes his wife away. He is tired of having his neck rubbed and her breasts in his face all the time, it is bothering him, like flies hanging around.
Ptolemy gives Gajendra a look. Tomorrow they must engage with their enemy. It will not do to have Alexander in this condition.
‘This is not a bad dream to have,’ Gajendra says.
‘How can it not be a bad dream?’
‘In India, the elephant is a lucky sign. When we dream of elephants it means good fortune.’
‘Do your good luck elephants also tell you that you have gone too far?’
‘It may just be a warning not to stretch your lines of supply. It just means that we should not rush into the battle, but take our time to confront the enemy.’
Gajendra takes a step closer, his heart in his mouth. He fears he is about to overreach himself. ‘You are not a god.’
Alexander’s glance is not hostile, more curious. ‘It would not do for others to think that.’
‘The gods wish a sacrifice from you. That’s all. To show that you are not a threat to them.’
His eyes are shining. Not a god, Gajendra thinks, but quite possibly mad. But it is enough. Alexander shrugs off the vale, leaves behind for now the underworld that waits for him in sleep and in death, forgets the terror of being forgotten. He smiles. ‘You think that is all it is?’
‘The elephant is a sign that you will win. Sacrifice to the gods and all will be well.’
‘Yes, you’re right. You’re right!’ Ptolemy rolls his eyes at how swiftly the general’s mood lifts. Alexander claps his hands together and calls for wine. It is clear no one in his household will sleep now.
He stands up and stretches, his face radiant, then puts an arm around Gajendra’s shoulder and leads him out of earshot.
An idea has dawned. He kisses the tips of his fingers and touches them to Gajendra’s cheek. ‘You saw what they did to my envoy?’
Envoy? I thought he was your friend.
He says, ‘I need a new Elephantarch, someone to lead my elephants tomorrow. Do you think you can do it?’
‘From a horse?’
‘What do you know of horses? No, from Colossus.’
Alexander’s fingers toy with Gajendra’s tunic, like a lover. He can feel the drum of his own pulse. All things are becoming possible.
‘Help me be victorious tomorrow,’ Alexander murmurs, ‘and I will give you the whole world, anything you want.’
He holds out a hand for someone to place a wine cup in it. He takes a long draught and grins, his teeth red.
‘I will not let you down,’ Gajendra says.
‘Of course not.’ He turns his back as suddenly as he has enveloped him and waves an airy hand in dismissal. ‘Everything is clear to me now. Go.’
He is ushered out again by the guards, into a firestruck night, and stumbles back to the straw. In the morning he will wonder if he has dreamed it.
But the next day he hears that Alexander has gone up the mountain just before dawn and made sacrifices by torchlight to the local gods, to prove to them that he is no threat.
Not that Alexander believes that, but never let the gods know what you’re thinking.
Ravi finds him early next morning. He looks panicked. Gajendra is still in the straw, thinking about Alexander; then he sees Ravi’s face and in that moment he knows what has happened.
‘Gajendra! Gajendra!’
‘What’s wrong?’
Ravi pulls him to his feet and leads him out of earshot of the other mahavats. ‘This boy, Mara. I just found him in the bushes, squatting. To piss. He’s a girl!’
‘Did she see you?’
Ravi stares at him speechless. The world shifts. ‘You knew about this?’
‘Yes, I knew.’
‘How long?’
‘Not long.’
‘You’re not screwing her, are you?’
‘I thought about it. I don’t think she’d let me. Or her bodyguard would kill me. She’s quite high born.’
Ravi stares as if he has water in his ears. Th is shocking news has not had the reception he expected. ‘Let you? Why didn’t you just do it? She’s a slave. And what’s this talk about bodyguards?’
‘You were right. He’s not her uncle.’
‘The dwarf – he’s her bodyguard?’
‘Have you seen him fight?’
‘I can’t believe you kept this to yourself.’
‘The less you know the better.’
‘But it’s me – Ravi. Your uncle! You should have told me about this. Who is she?’
‘She’s a priestess of Tanith. She cut her hair and put on men’s clothes to disguise herself.’
‘A priestess! By the black breath of hell, this is bad business.’
‘There’s worse.’
Ravi did not look surprised.
‘She’s the daughter of the general who stood against us outside Carthage.’
Ravi is speechless. Finally: ‘So why are you going along with it? She’s a valuable hostage! Alexander would have you crucified if he knew you had deceived him about this!’
‘Would he?’
The question takes Ravi’s breath away. ‘So now you think you’re above everyone else?’
‘Let me calculate the risk.’
‘But why are you taking any risk? Because you feel sorry for her?’
‘If someone finds out, I’ll just say I didn’t know. You’re the only one who’s worked this out.’
‘And how long will you keep up this charade?’
‘When that ugly brute who trails her around can walk again, I’ll help her get away.’
Ravi shakes his head.
‘So not a word, all right?’
Ravi sulks for a while, then says, ‘If one of the other mahavats had found her, she wouldn’t be so lucky.’
‘I know that. It’s only a matter of time. That’s why I have to help her escape.’
‘I don’t understand. Why help her at all?’
‘Because of you.’
‘Me?’
‘Do you remember how this hungry little orphan wandered into your camp once, when you were with the Rajah? You saw him getting kicked around by some soldiers for sport? You grabbed one of them by the ear, though he was twice your size, and told him I was one of your waterboys and you would set your elephants on all of them if they didn’t clear off?’
‘That was different. You weren’t a priestess for one thing.’
‘I was homeless and helpless. It’s my karma now to pay back what you did for me.’
‘Are you sure that’s all it is? Because if you just wanted to fuck her, you’ve gone to too much trouble.’
‘I thought she was a boy. I would understand why you’d think that if I was one of these Greeks. Besides, you know who I want.’
‘Not that, still! If I’d known how you were going to turn out that day I saw you, I would have let those soldiers do whatever they wanted. I should have just walked away, done us both a favour. What you are doing here, this is not the same. Taking you in was no risk for me. I needed another waterboy. But a girl like that is worth something to someone. A general’s daughter!’
‘Alexander will defeat what is left of Carthage, and Antipater as well, without hostages.’ They hear the reveille. The camp is waking. ‘Now get the waterboys up and about. We have work to do.’
Gajendra tries a fresh approach. As the new Elephantarch he will lead from the front; instead of archers Colossus will have a signal boy with flags in the howdah on his back so he can direct the others. He has some large drums mounted on its sides so he can still send his orders even if there is thick dust and the other mahavats cannot see the flags.
All that morning they drill the elephants; it is only Alexander’s Companion Cavalry that can stand to be so close to them, and even that has taken many months of training. Some of the younger elephants are still not up to it; time and again, when the cavalry charge a few young bulls back up or turn out of formation, panicked, disrupting the others. By early afternoon Gajendra’s nerves are ragged, his mahavats are cursing their elephants and one another. Ptolemy, in charge of the cavalry, is apoplectic. He rides off to tell Alexander that he must change his plans.
Gajendra calls the elephants back into line. They try again.
Late that afternoon, Mara finds him in an olive grove, on his knees, praying in front of a small stone god. He looks up, angry at being disturbed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘What’s that?’ she asks him.
He has surrounded the statuette with flowers and some olives he has plucked from the tree. The god is like no god she has ever seen; it has many arms and a head like an elephant.
‘It is Ganesha,’ he says.
‘It’s an elephant. You pray to an animal?’
‘Look, I may know your little secret, but you’re still just one of my dung larks. So don’t think you can talk to me whenever you like.’ He picks up his god and hides him away in a pouch in his belt.
‘Who is he? Your god?’
‘Didn’t you hear what I just said?’
‘I am just interested. Won’t you tell me?’
He shakes his head. ‘He is the Lord of Beginnings and the Placer and Remover of Obstacles.’
‘He does both?’
‘He will clear the way to your desire if you ask him. He will put obstacles there, too, if he thinks you need to be thwarted for your own good.’
‘Which obstacles do you wish him to remove?’
‘If you are going to ask such questions you should grow more brawn on you so you can take all the slaps on your head you are going to get.’
‘It is a fair question.’
‘Not from a slave.’
Gajendra stands up. He looks so sure of himself, she thinks. My husband looked like that the day he got on the ship that carried him to his death.
‘All right, I’ll tell you what obstacles I wish removed from my path. I want the colour of my skin to be no impediment to becoming one of Alexander’s generals. I do not want Antipater’s army to stand in the way of my hopes.’
‘Why do you wish to be a general?’
‘Because I want to be rich and feared and I want the girl of my dreams. I want the world. There, that’s what I want.’
‘Do you think that will be enough?’
‘It will do to start.’
‘The girl of your dreams. You have met her?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘And have you told her how you feel about her?’
He nods.
‘And what did she say?’
‘She wanted to give me my money back.’
She puts her hand over her mouth to try and stop herself, but it’s no good, she giggles out loud and his face flushes a deep bronze and he looks as if he would like to thrash her if he had a good horsewhip to hand.
‘You are in love with a dancing girl? The last time we spoke about this, the object of your affections was a princess. You continually seek outside your realm, if I may say so.’
‘I am not in love with a dancing girl! I went to the temple in Babylon and my princess was there also, as her duty to the goddess. I gave her my coins and we went to the wood behind the temple and that’s when I told her.’
‘You told her?’
‘That I did not want to pay for her. That I wanted her for my own and that one day I would make it happen so.’
‘You gave up your one chance to sleep with a princess?’
‘Not my one chance!’
‘What were you thinking?’ she says, before she can stop herself.
‘It will happen one day, you will see.’
‘It is a simple enough transaction. Here’s a pretty girl you might never see again. Bend over here, sweetheart, here’s a coin for the goddess and a slap on the bottom from me by way of thanks. And you’re on your way.’ Gajendra bears this lecture, white-faced. ‘Did you get your coins back?’
He shakes his head. ‘If you tell anyone about this, you’re straight to the auction block – after I’ve beaten you to a pulp, you and that dwarf of yours.’
‘I won’t tell anyone. Who would believe such a story anyway?’
‘What is so hard to believe? Already I am captain of the elephants. My tuskers will win Alexander even more victories and I will be his most important general. Then I may name whatever token I wish from him.’
‘Or tomorrow you could die in a battle or one of your tuskers might step on you. If you have a chance for pleasure you should take it. Life ends soon enough.’
‘What do you know of life?’ he snaps at her.
‘I know that you have fixed your heart on a mirage. When you discover she sweats and has a temper you are going to be very disappointed at spending your credit with Alexander on a fantasy.’
She turns on her heel.
‘Before you go, there’s something you should know. Ravi saw you. He knows you are a girl.’
She sighs and leans against the nearest tree. Well, it is a relief, in a way. It was ever only a matter of time before she was discovered. At least it is Ravi who saw her, and not one of the others.
‘He spied you in the bushes. You will have to be more careful.’
She slumps to her haunches, puts her head on her arms. ‘I am so tired of this.’
‘You told me you became a priestess because you were tired of your life. What can possibly be so bad when your father is a general and all you have to do all day is lie in a bath and listen to your slaves tell you how beautiful you are?’
‘I have lived ten lives for your one,’ she says bitterly.
‘I doubt that.’
She glares at him. How I would love to slap that arrogant look off your face. ‘My husband had estates in Sicily. He went to visit them but I was too ill to travel with him. I was carrying his baby and I was sick every morning. He drowned three months before the birth of our daughter. Our little boy was on the ship with him.’
‘Oh.’ He has at least the decency to look shamefaced and lower his eyes. ‘What happened to your little girl?’
‘She died of a fever. I caught it too, but I survived. Countless times I wished I hadn’t.’
‘That’s why I wanted nothing more to do with life. If you ever have a wife that you love and a son that is part of your own flesh then perhaps you will understand. You have to lose everything to understand what it is like.’
‘And so you feel sorry for yourself?’
She jumps to her feet. She swings her hand at him but he catches her wrist. ‘I have the right!’
‘No one has the right. You must never give up. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things are, you don’t give up. You never know if there is something just around the corner that will tip the balance back in your favour and give you back your life.’
She puts out a hand as if to steady herself. ‘Is there?’ Her fingers stroke the smooth skin of his shoulder. Their eyes meet. It is a moment of frank appraisal.
She takes her hand away abruptly and with a little gasp she tries to regather her composure, or what a priestess pretending to be a waterboy can pass off for it.
He takes her hand and puts it back. She strokes the smooth muscle on his chest. There, it has been said and better than words.
There is a look in his eyes. It is as if he has never truly considered this. He puts a hand on her hip, the other on her cheek. ‘I have never felt this way before about a waterboy.’
She takes his hand, kisses the tips of his fingers and says, ‘I don’t believe you.’
The paleness of her throat beckons. He eases his fingers under her tunic seeking her bare flesh. The whole world is in motion; he licks the sweat off her cheek and cups her small breast. She makes a little sound, a moan, poised between longing and horror at her own betrayal. ‘I can’t,’ she murmurs.
He was smiling, her husband, that last day on the dock. He blew her kisses. She had one hand on her belly and their growing child and she blew a kiss back. It was a bright day with a cool zephyr of wind, there was no warning of the storm, no premonition in her heart.
How could she leave him now? He was still out there, at sea.
Gajendra pulls back, confused. She wants to tell him just to hold her. She has missed a man’s arms around her waist.
‘You have to let go of them,’ he says to her.
She shakes her head. ‘He can see me.’
‘You have to let him go,’ he repeats. ‘You have to let them both go. You can’t follow them any more and they can’t follow you.’
But she cannot let go. If she does, she must admit they are really gone.
Her husband. Her daughter.
Her son…
She would stare at him for hours when he was newborn, wonder at such tiny cuticles on his fingers, would smell his hair as if he was the richest perfume in Arabia. Hasdrubal would stand behind her, hold her and rock her in that easy way of his and she felt safe. But the world was not safe.
She feels the rumbling of the elephants, and Colossus trumpets somewhere down by the river. She puts her head on Gajendra’s shoulder. A part of her aches to let go; another strives only to hold on.
‘Let them go,’ he repeats.
‘Not yet.’ He is right, they are gone, just as her father said. If she wishes for life, then she must betray the dead.
She cannot do it. He holds her anyway and she cries into his shoulder, a fool, a weakling. If her father could see her now, he would be ashamed.
But she must let go of him, too.