Of Rats and Cats and Rocking Horse Kings
This is for the telling a story about Alexander challenge. I hope it works ok. Its long. Go figure. I tried to be short, I swear. A father and daughter share a night of him recount the story of Alexander one of many Warriors on their list of kings and heroes and such.
Title: Of Rats and Cats and Rocking Horse Heroes
Author: Rothalion
Summery: This is for the storytelling challenge. I hope is works out and any blunders I make in history are apologized for in advance. Hmm, or maybe I’ll just blame them on the storyteller. A father shares time telling his daughter about the adventures of Alexander the Great.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: History owns them. Not movie driven just a retelling.
Of Rats and Cats and Rocking Horse Heroes
The small child crept noiselessly and with a hint of fear down the narrow staircase that had at one time served as the maid’s short cut to the kitchen. The thought of going directly into the large kitchen caused her to shudder a bit. What would she do if confronted by the huge rat that had been terrorizing the room for weeks if her father had already given up his nightly patrol and gone upstairs to bed. Sam the cat had failed at least three times in killing the rodent, she figured it must be the king of all the rats to be so bold and fierce. Sam was no slouch of a cat. Finally, pushing the swinging door open she padded bare footed into the dimly lit room, the cool avocado green tiles chilling her feet. Sam the cat was perched alertly on the normally off limits kitchen table his attention focused on the open cupboard beneath the sink where the rat usually appeared. He yawned and looked at the child with yellow and disinterested cat eyes, his black tail swishing at being distracted from his self appointed siege. No rat would invade ‘his’ kitchen, even if it seemed the bold beast was a large as he was. So, with her courage bolstered by the feline protectors presence she passed through the room and headed for the sound of the television in the living room.
The room was huge and nearly devoid of furniture. The original owners, a farm family, had eleven kids so the space was needed. Her family just, three so the rental house was far too large and cavernous. Her father sat on the sofa watching the small black and white television his booted feet up on the coffee table. Sitting down next to him she watched the screen for a moment as mounted warriors battled against each other swords and horses crashing into one another, the chaos was fascinating.
“Dad, is this Ghengis Khan, Dad?” she asked her voice a whisper and filled with awe as the warriors still fought fiercely.
“Ahn hanh, see, see him there the one on the gray horse, see shouting orders.” They watched silence until a commercial interrupted the scene and he turned to her. “Its one in the morning why’re still up?”
“Wanted to see if Sam got the king rat yet.” Then after a pause she looked over at him with imploring brown eyes. “Besides Dad, you told me Ghengis was on tonight and he was one of the great ones right? He’s one of our favorites. I can’t miss him and its never on in the day.” The movie returned and both sets of eyes were locked on the small screen in front of them.
“Sneak through the kitchen again?”
“Yup.”
“No dead rat?”
“Nope.”
“Ghengis was great. Brought together an entire nation of tribes and took most of the known world. Ah, and their amazing little Steppe ponies, how the could run, and oh how his men could ride and shoot. Awesome archers. Yup took the world over but he was no Alexander.”
“Alexander?” She asked as the screen much to her dismay started to roll the credits, she’d missed Ghengis again. Sighing she continued. “What about him Dad? This Alexander, he on our list?”
He smiled and ruffled her dark brown hair. “ The top of it and well, since you were brave enough to check on the rat, and stealthy enough to sneak down without waking your mother why don’t you drag old Thunderhead out, I’ll grab a beer and a chair and we’ll rendezvous in the front room for a war council about Alexander the Great, king of well…for starters Greece.” He smiled and watched as his daughter leapt from the couch and headed for the war room as she referred to it despite pleas fro her mother not to be so obsessed with warring and conquering nations. To leave such things to boys and men. And speaking of mothers, he shivered at the though of another scolding for allowing the eight year old to stay up so late while filling her head with tales of conquest..
A short time later she sat upon old Thunderhead, dragged from the unused huge fireplace that served as his stall; her once bare feet now swallowed in a too big pair of her father’s work boots, you had to have boots to have a war council, and this was Alexander King of Greece not the wild American west so cowboy boots were inappropriate. As promised her father appeared with a six pack of Schlitz beer, a bottle of Cott’s grape soda and a kitchen chair. He spun it around backwards, popped a beer, handed her the soda and sat down resting his elbows on the back of the ghastly flower patterned chair, she hated the color, it was a nauseating shade of yellow and beige.
“Grape, the Greeks drank wine, lots of it, we’ll save the Sarsaparilla for ‘Gunfight At the Ok Corral’. It’s on tonight. Late.” He winked and settled himself for the tale.
Reaching out she patted Thunderhead’s plastic neck and asked him if he was ready, then cocking her head a bit as if listening for a reply from the large toy horse she nodded to her father that he was.
“Well, Alexander was born in Macedonia, the only son of King Philip, the one eyed king. Got the other poked out leading a Calvary charge.”
“The king led the charge?”
“Yup and Alexander would do the same after he became king. Anyway Alexander’s mother Olympias thought that Zeus was Alexander’s true father and filled her son’s head with tales of his future greatness. Philip on the other hand was a bit more practical and made sure Alexander learned to fight and ride as well as getting him the best teacher in the land, Aristotle who taught him and some of his friends medicine, science, philosophy and geography to list a few. It was then that he met Hephaistion.”
“Hep. Who?”
“He-phaistion. He would stay Alexander’s best friend through their entire lives. Remember I told you about Troy and Achilles and his great companion Patroclus?” She nodded. “Well that was ‘their’ favorite story and they dreamed of being just like them.” He took a sip of beer and she took a sip of soda.
“Well? Thunderhead is waiting Dad.”
“Hmm, yes Alexander had a great war horse.”
“He did!” She jumped at the thought. “What color, what was his name. It had to be a stallion, what kind?” He laughed at her excitement and continued.
“Well, when Alexander was a boy maybe eleven, a man brought a great all black stallion for King Philip to see. The horse was wild and uncontrollable and had unseated quite a few of the Philip’s best riders…”
“I could ride him, but Thunder’d be jealous.” She tossed in confident, yet wary of injuring the large spring loaded rocking horse’s feelings.
“I’m sure.” He reached out and scratched the horse between its ears and jumped back into the tale. “Anyway, Alexander yelled out that he could ride the crazy animal, and Philip laughed at his son, asking what he would pay if he didn’t. Alexander replied that should he ride the great animal his father would allow him to keep it, if not he’d pay for it. Philip agreed and Alexander slipped cautiously yet without fear into the corral. He walked up to the great black horse and spoke softly to him, finally taking the halter and turning the skittish horse into the sun. You see he’d realized what the men hadn’t, that the black was afraid of his own shadow. Then swiftly and without fear he vaulted onto the stallions broad back. You see the horse was much larger then the local stock and Alexander just knew in his heart that they were meant to be together, just as he had when he’d first met Hephaistion. He leaned down, see like this.” He reached out and gently pressed the small girl forward and over the toy horses neck. “Just a bit more, so you can whisper in his ear, that’s it.” His voice dropped to just a hushed whisper. “He leaned just so and said, ‘I will call you Bucephalus, yes Alexander and Bucephalus, my Ox head.”
“Ox head!” She sat up straight as if jolted by a sudden shock. “Come on Dad! Ox Head! What kindda name is that for a war horse Ox head!”
“Shh, you’ll startle Thunderhead. A great name, it was because the horse had a great and broad head, like an ox.” She still glared at him incredulously. “Ok the bigger the head the bigger the brain, Alexander just knew that the black horse would prove to be not only the bravest horse in the world but the ‘smartest’ it was a compliment.” She scrunched up her nose, scratched Thunderhead ears in apology, took a swig of soda and bade him to continue.
“Away they rode straight into the sun at a furious gallop. They were like one being, Alexander and Bucephalus moving together in perfect rhythm. Straight into the sun and into history.” He stopped sipped again at his beer and went on. “Alexander turned Ox head around and rode back to his father. Never again would Philip show such pride in his son, it is said that the one eyed king cried and lifted his boy above his head in great joy. Only Bucephalus and Hephaistion would remain true to Alexander through all his travels.”
“Wow, Bucephalus. Bucephalus. Do you think he’d play with Thunder- head? If Bucephalus means Ox Head then how do you say Thunderhead in Greek? Can we paint Thunderhead black?”
Again he smiled at his daughter’s simple pleasure in the story. “Well, I’m no scholar but I think the cephalus part has to do with head, but I’ve no clue how to say thunder in Greek, honey but I’ll ask Spiros at work on Monday. I’m sure they would play and no you absolutely can not paint old Thunderhead black.”
“Tell me more! Alexander becomes the king, I figured that much out, do you think Ox Head let Hephaistion ride him? What did Alexander conquer?”
So the night slipped away. The father retelling the story of Alexander as best that he knew it, the daughter stopping him at intervals to ask questions.
He told of Issus and Granicus and how Black Cleitus saved Alexander. He described siege of Tyre and the mole and she halted him a curious look on her face.
“All that to visit a temple? I’d never bother with all that just to go to boring old church.”
“He was used to getting his way you see and when the refused him, well it was hell to pay. Besides they didn’t think he could manage it. Build a mole, a earthen bridge, they thought he was nuts and would simply go away.”
“Dad do ya think that the rat thinks Sam will just give up on his siege of the kitchen cabinet?”
“I don’t think that we can know what a rat thinks, and judging by Sam’s patience I don’t think he’s going anywhere until he gets his rat.”
“Maybe we should change his name to Alexander the Cat.”
He laughed aloud at that and opened another beer. “Go and get another soda, we’re only half way through. Bring the bottle opener.” She jumped from the horse and slogged to the kitchen the big boots weighing down her feet.
When she returned and was again mounted on Thunderhead he continued.
“Then there was Gaugamela. The great battle against Darius. The Persian king had well some 250,000 men and Alexander only say 45,000. Way out numbered and out flanked by, well he was out flanked. The battle was fierce…wait lets do this right.” He jumped up and went outside returning with two galvanized garbage can lids, and a mop handle. He snapped the mop handle in two handed the confused girl a lid and one half of the stick and headed for the kitchen coming back with four chairs which he set in a line in front of Thunderhead. Then he turned his chair to face the line as well.
“That’s the Persian army.”
That said he retold the tale with a clash of garbage can lids and the slashing of blades. The girl was drawn into the spectacle and for once did not interrupt. Gaugamela finished he turned his chair back to his daughter and continued along comforting her after he told of Bucephalus’ death and finally getting to Mallia.
“Mallia, that is where he did the bravest and probably stupidest thing of his life. The battle was raging but his men were uninspired, sluggish so he took the lead.”
“Like when Philip lost his eye?”
“Yea like that, he grabbed a siege ladder threw it against the wall and ran up it. Here like this. He lifted her from the horse and stood her on the broad stone fireplace mantle. At the top he fought off the Mallians protecting it, block now, then strike. Good again, and yup swing at me again, just like that.”
The two fought a mock battle for the wall at Mallia the clash of sticks on garbage can lids echoing through the large empty war room, their yells and battle cries resounding off the walls.
“Then once the wall was clear he jumped down ‘into’ the city alone. Jump.”
She jumped down from the mantel landing deftly and they both spun to the right as a shrill voice called out in shock.
“What are you doing? Are you a lunatic?” The stunned woman stormed across the room and confronted the two warriors. “Well, what! Now she’s jumping off the mantel! With a stick! She could have poked out her eye.”
“Mom, Dad’s the Mallians and I am Alexander the Great. King Philp only had one eye. Mallia Mom! It’s my greatest feat of brav…”
“Its four in the morning! You should be in bed not fighting Martians!”
“Mallians.” The two corrected their voices sounding as one.
“Martians, Mallians I don’t much, care go to bed!” The little girl looked to her dad for backup and he shrugged.
“Would Hephaistion have left Alexander alone to be sent away by the enemy?” She spat scowling at him. “Well?”
“No, I don’t suppose he would have my little Alexander. There’s no school tomorrow, where’s the harm sweetheart? We’re almost back to Babylon.”
She huffed, agreed and stomped back up the stairs. She swore that she’d never understand those two.
The Mallians conquered he moved on and was in the middle of the telling of Hephaistion’s death and Alexander’s so soon after when a loud screach and a thump were heard in the kitchen. The two stood and walked silently hand in hand to see what the commotion was. On the floor sat Sam the cat, perched protectively over the body of the elusive great king rat. They entered, the father shooing the big black cat away and the pair squated beside the dispatched rodent, with Sam eyeing them wickedly as he cleaned his sullied paws. It was indeed huge, eighteen to twenty inches long nose to tail. Sam had done his job well.
“It’s kind of sad Dad, to see him lose. He had to have been the king of rats. Look how big and strong he is. And Sam… Sam seems so happy.”
“Even kings die sweety, they are after all only men, or rats as the case might be. Leaders yes and great and fallible in their own right but death is the one thing that makes us all equal, be it Ghengis, or Attila, or Alexander and his beloved Hephaistion, Bucephalus or any of the others on our list, death has no favorites. Let’s just hope that this old rat enjoyed his finally days tormenting poor Sam.”
“He did. I’m sure. Alexander, well Dad, I’m glad he died right after Hephaistion, I wouldn’t want to know that he was alone and sad.”
“I tend to agree, he was very tired I think, like this old rat and he finally just gave in. Off to bed, put Thunderhead in his stall and I’ll get this poor guy out of the kitchen.”
“Can we bury him Dad, he was a very brave rat.” He smiled again and pondered the task of digging a grave for a troublesome dead rat in the middle of winter in frozen dirt. “Alexander would have, remember Darius?”
“Sure sweetheart, now tend your horse and get to bed. Tonight’s the OK Corral and you don’t want to sleep through that do you?”
She started away and then paused. “Dad, do you think that old Thunderhead will die soon?”
There were tears in her eyes now and stepping to her he scooped her up into his strong arms and kissed them away. “No, my little warrior, as long as you can dream, and imagine and believe in those simple things and in the impossible, Thunderhead will always, always be alive for you. Just like all the heros on our list.”
Ok there it is. Hope folks like it. Thanks for reading. I screwed the cut up can you delete the uncut one and leave the cut version . Damn I am so stupid!
Title: Of Rats and Cats and Rocking Horse Heroes
Author: Rothalion
Summery: This is for the storytelling challenge. I hope is works out and any blunders I make in history are apologized for in advance. Hmm, or maybe I’ll just blame them on the storyteller. A father shares time telling his daughter about the adventures of Alexander the Great.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: History owns them. Not movie driven just a retelling.
Of Rats and Cats and Rocking Horse Heroes
The small child crept noiselessly and with a hint of fear down the narrow staircase that had at one time served as the maid’s short cut to the kitchen. The thought of going directly into the large kitchen caused her to shudder a bit. What would she do if confronted by the huge rat that had been terrorizing the room for weeks if her father had already given up his nightly patrol and gone upstairs to bed. Sam the cat had failed at least three times in killing the rodent, she figured it must be the king of all the rats to be so bold and fierce. Sam was no slouch of a cat. Finally, pushing the swinging door open she padded bare footed into the dimly lit room, the cool avocado green tiles chilling her feet. Sam the cat was perched alertly on the normally off limits kitchen table his attention focused on the open cupboard beneath the sink where the rat usually appeared. He yawned and looked at the child with yellow and disinterested cat eyes, his black tail swishing at being distracted from his self appointed siege. No rat would invade ‘his’ kitchen, even if it seemed the bold beast was a large as he was. So, with her courage bolstered by the feline protectors presence she passed through the room and headed for the sound of the television in the living room.
The room was huge and nearly devoid of furniture. The original owners, a farm family, had eleven kids so the space was needed. Her family just, three so the rental house was far too large and cavernous. Her father sat on the sofa watching the small black and white television his booted feet up on the coffee table. Sitting down next to him she watched the screen for a moment as mounted warriors battled against each other swords and horses crashing into one another, the chaos was fascinating.
“Dad, is this Ghengis Khan, Dad?” she asked her voice a whisper and filled with awe as the warriors still fought fiercely.
“Ahn hanh, see, see him there the one on the gray horse, see shouting orders.” They watched silence until a commercial interrupted the scene and he turned to her. “Its one in the morning why’re still up?”
“Wanted to see if Sam got the king rat yet.” Then after a pause she looked over at him with imploring brown eyes. “Besides Dad, you told me Ghengis was on tonight and he was one of the great ones right? He’s one of our favorites. I can’t miss him and its never on in the day.” The movie returned and both sets of eyes were locked on the small screen in front of them.
“Sneak through the kitchen again?”
“Yup.”
“No dead rat?”
“Nope.”
“Ghengis was great. Brought together an entire nation of tribes and took most of the known world. Ah, and their amazing little Steppe ponies, how the could run, and oh how his men could ride and shoot. Awesome archers. Yup took the world over but he was no Alexander.”
“Alexander?” She asked as the screen much to her dismay started to roll the credits, she’d missed Ghengis again. Sighing she continued. “What about him Dad? This Alexander, he on our list?”
He smiled and ruffled her dark brown hair. “ The top of it and well, since you were brave enough to check on the rat, and stealthy enough to sneak down without waking your mother why don’t you drag old Thunderhead out, I’ll grab a beer and a chair and we’ll rendezvous in the front room for a war council about Alexander the Great, king of well…for starters Greece.” He smiled and watched as his daughter leapt from the couch and headed for the war room as she referred to it despite pleas fro her mother not to be so obsessed with warring and conquering nations. To leave such things to boys and men. And speaking of mothers, he shivered at the though of another scolding for allowing the eight year old to stay up so late while filling her head with tales of conquest..
A short time later she sat upon old Thunderhead, dragged from the unused huge fireplace that served as his stall; her once bare feet now swallowed in a too big pair of her father’s work boots, you had to have boots to have a war council, and this was Alexander King of Greece not the wild American west so cowboy boots were inappropriate. As promised her father appeared with a six pack of Schlitz beer, a bottle of Cott’s grape soda and a kitchen chair. He spun it around backwards, popped a beer, handed her the soda and sat down resting his elbows on the back of the ghastly flower patterned chair, she hated the color, it was a nauseating shade of yellow and beige.
“Grape, the Greeks drank wine, lots of it, we’ll save the Sarsaparilla for ‘Gunfight At the Ok Corral’. It’s on tonight. Late.” He winked and settled himself for the tale.
Reaching out she patted Thunderhead’s plastic neck and asked him if he was ready, then cocking her head a bit as if listening for a reply from the large toy horse she nodded to her father that he was.
“Well, Alexander was born in Macedonia, the only son of King Philip, the one eyed king. Got the other poked out leading a Calvary charge.”
“The king led the charge?”
“Yup and Alexander would do the same after he became king. Anyway Alexander’s mother Olympias thought that Zeus was Alexander’s true father and filled her son’s head with tales of his future greatness. Philip on the other hand was a bit more practical and made sure Alexander learned to fight and ride as well as getting him the best teacher in the land, Aristotle who taught him and some of his friends medicine, science, philosophy and geography to list a few. It was then that he met Hephaistion.”
“Hep. Who?”
“He-phaistion. He would stay Alexander’s best friend through their entire lives. Remember I told you about Troy and Achilles and his great companion Patroclus?” She nodded. “Well that was ‘their’ favorite story and they dreamed of being just like them.” He took a sip of beer and she took a sip of soda.
“Well? Thunderhead is waiting Dad.”
“Hmm, yes Alexander had a great war horse.”
“He did!” She jumped at the thought. “What color, what was his name. It had to be a stallion, what kind?” He laughed at her excitement and continued.
“Well, when Alexander was a boy maybe eleven, a man brought a great all black stallion for King Philip to see. The horse was wild and uncontrollable and had unseated quite a few of the Philip’s best riders…”
“I could ride him, but Thunder’d be jealous.” She tossed in confident, yet wary of injuring the large spring loaded rocking horse’s feelings.
“I’m sure.” He reached out and scratched the horse between its ears and jumped back into the tale. “Anyway, Alexander yelled out that he could ride the crazy animal, and Philip laughed at his son, asking what he would pay if he didn’t. Alexander replied that should he ride the great animal his father would allow him to keep it, if not he’d pay for it. Philip agreed and Alexander slipped cautiously yet without fear into the corral. He walked up to the great black horse and spoke softly to him, finally taking the halter and turning the skittish horse into the sun. You see he’d realized what the men hadn’t, that the black was afraid of his own shadow. Then swiftly and without fear he vaulted onto the stallions broad back. You see the horse was much larger then the local stock and Alexander just knew in his heart that they were meant to be together, just as he had when he’d first met Hephaistion. He leaned down, see like this.” He reached out and gently pressed the small girl forward and over the toy horses neck. “Just a bit more, so you can whisper in his ear, that’s it.” His voice dropped to just a hushed whisper. “He leaned just so and said, ‘I will call you Bucephalus, yes Alexander and Bucephalus, my Ox head.”
“Ox head!” She sat up straight as if jolted by a sudden shock. “Come on Dad! Ox Head! What kindda name is that for a war horse Ox head!”
“Shh, you’ll startle Thunderhead. A great name, it was because the horse had a great and broad head, like an ox.” She still glared at him incredulously. “Ok the bigger the head the bigger the brain, Alexander just knew that the black horse would prove to be not only the bravest horse in the world but the ‘smartest’ it was a compliment.” She scrunched up her nose, scratched Thunderhead ears in apology, took a swig of soda and bade him to continue.
“Away they rode straight into the sun at a furious gallop. They were like one being, Alexander and Bucephalus moving together in perfect rhythm. Straight into the sun and into history.” He stopped sipped again at his beer and went on. “Alexander turned Ox head around and rode back to his father. Never again would Philip show such pride in his son, it is said that the one eyed king cried and lifted his boy above his head in great joy. Only Bucephalus and Hephaistion would remain true to Alexander through all his travels.”
“Wow, Bucephalus. Bucephalus. Do you think he’d play with Thunder- head? If Bucephalus means Ox Head then how do you say Thunderhead in Greek? Can we paint Thunderhead black?”
Again he smiled at his daughter’s simple pleasure in the story. “Well, I’m no scholar but I think the cephalus part has to do with head, but I’ve no clue how to say thunder in Greek, honey but I’ll ask Spiros at work on Monday. I’m sure they would play and no you absolutely can not paint old Thunderhead black.”
“Tell me more! Alexander becomes the king, I figured that much out, do you think Ox Head let Hephaistion ride him? What did Alexander conquer?”
So the night slipped away. The father retelling the story of Alexander as best that he knew it, the daughter stopping him at intervals to ask questions.
He told of Issus and Granicus and how Black Cleitus saved Alexander. He described siege of Tyre and the mole and she halted him a curious look on her face.
“All that to visit a temple? I’d never bother with all that just to go to boring old church.”
“He was used to getting his way you see and when the refused him, well it was hell to pay. Besides they didn’t think he could manage it. Build a mole, a earthen bridge, they thought he was nuts and would simply go away.”
“Dad do ya think that the rat thinks Sam will just give up on his siege of the kitchen cabinet?”
“I don’t think that we can know what a rat thinks, and judging by Sam’s patience I don’t think he’s going anywhere until he gets his rat.”
“Maybe we should change his name to Alexander the Cat.”
He laughed aloud at that and opened another beer. “Go and get another soda, we’re only half way through. Bring the bottle opener.” She jumped from the horse and slogged to the kitchen the big boots weighing down her feet.
When she returned and was again mounted on Thunderhead he continued.
“Then there was Gaugamela. The great battle against Darius. The Persian king had well some 250,000 men and Alexander only say 45,000. Way out numbered and out flanked by, well he was out flanked. The battle was fierce…wait lets do this right.” He jumped up and went outside returning with two galvanized garbage can lids, and a mop handle. He snapped the mop handle in two handed the confused girl a lid and one half of the stick and headed for the kitchen coming back with four chairs which he set in a line in front of Thunderhead. Then he turned his chair to face the line as well.
“That’s the Persian army.”
That said he retold the tale with a clash of garbage can lids and the slashing of blades. The girl was drawn into the spectacle and for once did not interrupt. Gaugamela finished he turned his chair back to his daughter and continued along comforting her after he told of Bucephalus’ death and finally getting to Mallia.
“Mallia, that is where he did the bravest and probably stupidest thing of his life. The battle was raging but his men were uninspired, sluggish so he took the lead.”
“Like when Philip lost his eye?”
“Yea like that, he grabbed a siege ladder threw it against the wall and ran up it. Here like this. He lifted her from the horse and stood her on the broad stone fireplace mantle. At the top he fought off the Mallians protecting it, block now, then strike. Good again, and yup swing at me again, just like that.”
The two fought a mock battle for the wall at Mallia the clash of sticks on garbage can lids echoing through the large empty war room, their yells and battle cries resounding off the walls.
“Then once the wall was clear he jumped down ‘into’ the city alone. Jump.”
She jumped down from the mantel landing deftly and they both spun to the right as a shrill voice called out in shock.
“What are you doing? Are you a lunatic?” The stunned woman stormed across the room and confronted the two warriors. “Well, what! Now she’s jumping off the mantel! With a stick! She could have poked out her eye.”
“Mom, Dad’s the Mallians and I am Alexander the Great. King Philp only had one eye. Mallia Mom! It’s my greatest feat of brav…”
“Its four in the morning! You should be in bed not fighting Martians!”
“Mallians.” The two corrected their voices sounding as one.
“Martians, Mallians I don’t much, care go to bed!” The little girl looked to her dad for backup and he shrugged.
“Would Hephaistion have left Alexander alone to be sent away by the enemy?” She spat scowling at him. “Well?”
“No, I don’t suppose he would have my little Alexander. There’s no school tomorrow, where’s the harm sweetheart? We’re almost back to Babylon.”
She huffed, agreed and stomped back up the stairs. She swore that she’d never understand those two.
The Mallians conquered he moved on and was in the middle of the telling of Hephaistion’s death and Alexander’s so soon after when a loud screach and a thump were heard in the kitchen. The two stood and walked silently hand in hand to see what the commotion was. On the floor sat Sam the cat, perched protectively over the body of the elusive great king rat. They entered, the father shooing the big black cat away and the pair squated beside the dispatched rodent, with Sam eyeing them wickedly as he cleaned his sullied paws. It was indeed huge, eighteen to twenty inches long nose to tail. Sam had done his job well.
“It’s kind of sad Dad, to see him lose. He had to have been the king of rats. Look how big and strong he is. And Sam… Sam seems so happy.”
“Even kings die sweety, they are after all only men, or rats as the case might be. Leaders yes and great and fallible in their own right but death is the one thing that makes us all equal, be it Ghengis, or Attila, or Alexander and his beloved Hephaistion, Bucephalus or any of the others on our list, death has no favorites. Let’s just hope that this old rat enjoyed his finally days tormenting poor Sam.”
“He did. I’m sure. Alexander, well Dad, I’m glad he died right after Hephaistion, I wouldn’t want to know that he was alone and sad.”
“I tend to agree, he was very tired I think, like this old rat and he finally just gave in. Off to bed, put Thunderhead in his stall and I’ll get this poor guy out of the kitchen.”
“Can we bury him Dad, he was a very brave rat.” He smiled again and pondered the task of digging a grave for a troublesome dead rat in the middle of winter in frozen dirt. “Alexander would have, remember Darius?”
“Sure sweetheart, now tend your horse and get to bed. Tonight’s the OK Corral and you don’t want to sleep through that do you?”
She started away and then paused. “Dad, do you think that old Thunderhead will die soon?”
There were tears in her eyes now and stepping to her he scooped her up into his strong arms and kissed them away. “No, my little warrior, as long as you can dream, and imagine and believe in those simple things and in the impossible, Thunderhead will always, always be alive for you. Just like all the heros on our list.”
Ok there it is. Hope folks like it. Thanks for reading. I screwed the cut up can you delete the uncut one and leave the cut version . Damn I am so stupid!