ye_olde_renault | UnHeralded Strength, Book I.I

Title: UnHeralded Strength, Book I.I

Author: Lysis (August 2015 to January 2015)

Fandom: Alexander/Bagoas; Alexander/Hephaistion

Rating: M

Content: About two days following the events in Book I. Alexander, is very busy, as usual, his mind on many things, one being, Bagoas.

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Night came too quickly for Alexander. The third watch was on duty an hour already. He sighed softly, suppressed a yawn and took a deep breath to invigorate himself. Ah, the air smelt of pine, and the smooth cool shadows of Nyx. It was still very cold, but he was overheated from his nightly walking of the camp. He wore only a lighter weight cuirass over his chiton to warm him.

On such a night as this! Ah, it was meant for them. Hephaistion, who was not in camp at present loved such nights as these. The cooler the better was his preference so he could snuggle down between a good warm blanket, and, if Hephaistion was willing, and Alexander so fortunate, perhaps he might help warm him.

Of late such things grew less and less. Their private time was becoming something of the past, and both men mourned this. To be camped so near such a great forest as that which rose about them with that sharp, balsam scent lingering in the air was full of boyhood memories. It was the stuff of dreams and long talks that would go on deep into the early hours of before cock crow.

Alexander was learning toward a good hour of fishing would the gods might grant him time in the morning, for there was a fast moving brook nearby that had proved fruitful. With the army being bivouacked for winter, he had more time for such things. He was planning a longer campaign that would take them through the Hindu Kush, and was anxious to be about it, but the forward scouts had not yet returned with all the intelligence he required, so the army was camped out for the time being.

He began to think how pleasant a hot bath scented with pine essence would be. Then he grimaced thinking on all the things he had not yet seen to; Boukepahlos, foremost. He had been favoring his left foreleg since noon. Boukepahlos’ long time groom, Timon had known just what to do ease it. Still, he would see his horse cared for before he would lie down to sleep. He turned to the youngest of his pages, thirteen year old Menander, son of Perikles of Pella, who served with Philotas in the Companion Calvary. The boy was small for his age, with a shock of red hair that recalled to him Kassander, Antipater’s son, for it near that same bright shade, but quick to catch onto things, and had a pretty voice for singing. He was also biddable, and did not complain no matter what was asked of him.

“Menander, go you to my tent, inform the duty pages I will return soon. If Bagoas is there, tell him to stay. I would speak with him.” A bright streak of fire, the boy took off, his manner conscientious and fleet of foot and Alexander saw a bit of himself in the quick witted youth, and noted he would speak to Hephaistion of further training with him.

“Marsayas, you fool come have some wine!” A man’s voice bellowed loudly and somewhere in the near distance a thick, gruff voice answered back. Alexander grinned when he came upon a small group about a campfire. He sniffed appreciatively; the air was redolent of rabbit, which they were roasting over the fire.

“Alexander! Alexander! Join us, come join us!” The cry came from all sides when he was spotted. “Come eat with us, boy! You’re too skinny by half. Now your father, there was a man could eat!” One old trooper called out amid great cries of jesting and laughter. He laughed along with them, and waved the man down who had risen.

“I can stay but a little, for I’ve much to see to.” He answered their exuberant calls, laughing and took up the wine handed him, drank and sat a bit joking with them, listening to their tales. The rabbit was teasing his senses. He would not mind a bite of something more. Supper seemed so long ago. Well into the third hour of the second watch. Perhaps once he reached his tent…

“Non, non, do not leave so soon!” Was the cry when at last he rose a good half hour later, but with the dripping joint of rabbit warming his belly. He licked as the delicious grease ran down his hand. Were Bagoas nearby, the newest member of his court here, he would press a cloth upon him to catch the juices, but there was something to be said with eating it in this manner! Indeed, his appetite, which he kept careful control of, grew amid the company and bracing night air. Such ingredients made for the best of meals.

Should they read his thought several of the troopers, for it was a regiment of the Silver Shields, and had known him since a babe, would scoff and say he was too thin and still wet behind the ears. He always felt a boy of young years, safe and comfortable with these veterans, who had helped form his early training. Should he wish to, he could set himself amongst them, they would watch out for him, they always had.

Aye, and what of that creature, several had dared ask, the Persian eunuch? He took it in good humor, these men were the stuff of legend, and allowed leeway others were not. He saw, however, the question in their expectant gazes, and almost laughed aloud at it - whether he did or no, ‘twas his business. But, aye, he knew the way of the camp; all things were open to speculation and gossip. To please them he took the meat and left them feeling replete and in good humor, but he didn’t answer the question they had all hinted at, the Persian Boy and what did he do with him

The hospital tents were busy, which did not please him, for some gripe of the belly was laying the men low. He directed the water supply to be checked again, and called for more provision of wine to be laid on in case the need grew greater. He could not afford to lose good men when such a thing was preventable.

He sat for a good while with Seleukos, son of Antiokhos, who was part of the agema of the Companion Calvary. A bright tactician in his own right on the field of battle, renown for breeding and training of his own war horses, Alexander enjoyed his company. His short black curls covered by a broad linen bandage, he was recovering from a recent head wound. They bantered back and forth sharing stories of boyhood exploits and the idea for a game of war strategy Alexander had been developing with Krateros and Hephaistion. Seleukos, whose large blue eyes would grow larger still when he grew excited by relating some exploit of his or his men’s in battle grew sleepy as time wore on and Alexander took leave of him, but with the caution that he should rest as he would expect him, hale and hearty on his next hunt.

Philotas had lately spoken of Seleukos’ as a good man with quick decisions. He never hesitated once he made a decision, but thought things out clearly beforehand, and was quick to see with his nimble mind when a change might be called for. He recalled to Alexander, the strategic brilliance of Parmenion, who though he might find the older man a personal irritation, at times. was sound in his thinking. Though of late, especially at Gaugamela he had found his more tried and true ways of strategy frustrating. One would never say Parmenion was not for taking a chance, but he would always bolster that chance with good solid methods.

He could sometimes imagine he could hear his father’s voice in Parmenion’s words and advice, slower, and plodding at times, but as Philip had long shown time and again by his own victories, a solid foundation when formulating battle plans often proved the key to victory. However, Alexander argued with himself, or the voice of his father, he wasn’t always certain, battle was also structured chaos and one had to be ever ready to move in another direction, in an instant. He had proven this at Chaeronea. It was a great game to be played out with moves thought well out in advance, with as many strategies deployed against the ever present threat of loss and retreat. He thought again, briefly, of the game he and Seleukos had discussed, which he was beginning to call Strategos. Something for fun to keep their minds active, they had seen the concept in an Egyptian game Philotas knew, and been intrigued by it. Perhaps tonight… Non, it was too late, and he would admit, he was growing weary, and none of his pages quick enough should he explain it to them. Well, there was Menander, but he had set him some task and he would not be able. Something Seleukos had suggested nipped at him. He was keen to try it out and needed a quick mind. Perhaps Bagoas…?

Ah, that was another concern, Alexander reflected, Bagoas. The boy, what was he…? Ah, nai, near seventeen summers, he had said. The Persian, so newly come to his court intrigued him tremendously. Nightly he plied him with questions about Darius and court ways. Perhaps too much, as last night the youth had been yawning while, he had been anxious to keep talking. Indeed, Alexander reflected, he would go on long into the early hours of the morn if he were able. So much intrigued him about the youth and Darius’ court.

Hmm, there was something about the youth, his polished, sophisticated ways that called to him, deeply. He was not as he had expected in any manner. Very quick of mind, skilled at dealing with adversaries, which Alexander knew he had earned merely by setting foot in camp, and of course, being what he was, which he could not help. He found himself frowning, the absurdity that some would suggest that the boy had sought to become a eunuch! What man would ever desire such a thing! Indeed, Alexander admitted, he was curious about how it had come about, but the youth, for all his smoothly polished courtly armor was sensitive, he had seen it clear the third night he had come.

Alexander stopped a moment reflecting on that eve’s events, and how the Persian had handled them, brilliantly, and with great skill.

To be continued...