STORY: Triangle
Title: Triangle
Author: Bagoas Alexandros
Rating: PG
Summary: Hephaestion's POV in the Gedrosian desert...a la Mary Renault.
Author's Note: Response to a challenge/request on ATGstories. Had it done a week ago, too damned lazy to post before now. Not the greatest, really, hate my ending but the rest is okay. (shrug)
The watering hole was a pit by the time Hephaestion arrived. Men and animals had trampled the thin stream to almost mud and what wasn't mud didn't look drinkable. Hephaestion wasn't picky, though, and knelt beside it to drink anyway. Even as he did so, fresh water began to mingle, coming from upstream unimpeded now that the bulk of those desperate for liquid refreshment had gotten their fill.
"Hephaestion." He looked up into the face of his king and managed a weary smile, taking the proffered canteen and tipping it to drink the nourishing liquid. Never had water tasted so divine. "We're losing men everyday."
Hephaestion nodded and tipped the canteen again, swallowing more greedily this time.
"And boys."
Something in the tone gave Hephaestion pause and he looked down at Alexander. The gold hair was bleached almost white, the skin past burning and now tanning bronze, but it was his eyes that held Hephaestion's attention. "Boys?" he asked carefully, tasting the word as if it were a fine wine. "What boys?"
Alexander looked away. "Bagoas for one. He left camp with us this morning," Alexander paused, glancing down almost ashamedly, "but no one has seen him since mid-morning." Hephaestion swore, tossing Alexander the canteen almost angrily. Alexander caught it and looked away from Hephaestion's furious countenance, knowing his words were hurting his friend, but he too was hurting. "I had hoped he was stronger than that, but even the toughest of men have fallen behind." Alexander took a swallow himself and then ran a hand down his sun-roughened face.
"Alexander, go back for him." Alexander looked at Hephaestion in surprise. Hephaestion nodded as if to confirm that Alexander had heard him right. "Go after him. You should never have brought him on this trip."
"Perhaps." Alexander's gaze turned to the direction stragglers were still lurching into camp. "If the fleet is lost through storm or other mischance, well, I'd have lost him anyway."
"He should be with your wife and the household to begin with," Hephaestion grumbled, sitting down on a rock near the muddied watering hole.
Alexander shook his head. "No. Roxanne tried to have him poisoned. And I'm not all that confident that others wouldn't do the same. You and I know him, Hephaestion, but others, they only see him as a bed slave, a eunuch, less than nothing. They don't understand his importance to us."
Hephaestion ignored the wrench in his gut, even though he knew that in some ways Alexander spoke the truth. Bagoas was important, but more to Alexander than to Hephaestion. Bagoas took care of Alexander when Hephaestion could not; as far as Hephaestion was concerned that was Bagoas' only use.
"Go back for him," Hephaestion urged one more time, but Alexander only shook his head.
"No. I cannot show favoritism, even though it hurts my heart." The king smiled wistfully at his seated friend. "You are the only one I would return for, my Hephaestion. As much as I would like to go back for Bagoas, to do so would jeopardize him and myself. No. Perhaps it's better this way." Alexander's expression turned awkward. "I just thought you should know."
With that pronouncement, the king of Macedon and Persia walked back to his tent.
When he was certain Alexander was well out of earshot, Hephaestion began swearing. A sunburnt youth walked by and he snagged the boy's arm. "Anaximander, are there any rested horses?"
The boy looked surprised but nodded toward the string. "Those over there came in first, General Hephaestion, but why -” The boy never finished his sentence, but watched in amazement as Hephaestion stalked to the string of horses, untied one and swung astride in an easy motion.
Hephaestion walked the horse gingerly over. "Give me your canteen. Is it full?"
Anaximander nodded and took Hephaestion's empty one in place of his own. "Get that filled and it's yours." The boy gaped; the lord's was much finer and larger than his own poor quality canteen. Hephaestion cantered the horse out of camp but slowed it to an easy walk a short distance away, returning to the desert from which he had just come.
Heat waves shimmered in the air, reminding Hephaestion of the time Alexander had led his best friends on the dangerous trek to the Oracle at Siwah. That trip was now a mere inconvenience compared to the nightmare that the army lived in Gedrosia. Hephaestion kept his ears alert for a call of aide. Those who fell behind often called their names out so friends might come to help; help never came. This journey had become an 'every man for himself' excursion. If you fell behind, you fell behind.
Besides, if Hephaestion knew anything about Bagoas, the boy was too damned stubborn and too prideful to resort to crying out for help. For someone who had spent a good portion of his life as the sexual plaything of men, Bagoas had a strong sense of self and his own value. Hephaestion had often found himself impressed and exasperated with Bagoas' confidence and meddling, well intentioned though the meddling often was. Still Hephaestion listened all the same, just in case fear and desperation overcame pride and will.
The shadows were growing shorter in the rocky areas or reflecting the few shrubs that managed to subsist in the harsh environment. Hephaestion figured it was getting close to noontime. Ahead was another rock patch; if Bagoas was not there, then Hephaestion would give up. The horse was ready to drop; *he* was ready to drop and Bagoas had obviously fallen to the wayside too far back.
His hopes rose, though, with a slight movement in the waning shadow of the rock patch. Even if it wasn't Bagoas, whoever it was would be going back astride this horse. Hephaestion refused to have the trip be in vain. The few bodies he'd found on the path were already dead. Movement indicated life and life was all Hephaestion was worried about now.
It was the silk pants that identified the body as Bagoas more than anything else. The sun had bleached the young Persian's hair with a reddish tint; the skin reflected a darker tone that would not have been flattering in a harem, marking him as common stock instead of the noble lineage Hephaestion knew the boy derived from. The sun had parched the skin dry, revealing cracks. Dirt and sand clung to the areas where sweat had once accumulated. There was nothing attractive about Bagoas now.
"Bagoas." Hephaestion slid gingerly off the horse, staggering a moment, his legs wobbly.
The boy's eyes fluttered open, slightly unfocused, as he rolled to face Hephaestion. His lips parted, moved as if to speak but the young man's throat was so dry only a rasp emitted from it. Hephaestion leaned down, opening the canteen and lifting the eunuch's head enough that he could swallow a bit of water.
"Not too much yet," he said as Bagoas tried to drink more in a greedy manner. "More later."
The eyes, those expressive eyes, burned with shame. "Your water," he croaked, gesturing weakly to the canteen.
Hephaestion understood. "No, I've come from camp," he assured. "I've plenty. Get up, we haven't got all day." Hephaestion helped Bagoas rise, steadying the heat-weakened legs and then helped the young man on top the horse. At Bagoas' questioning look, he responded, "I'll walk him. He can't carry two, he'll die."
Bagoas nodded, looking completely exhausted and defeated. Hephaestion had seen Bagoas tense, worn out, stressed, angered, and many other things, but this was new. He'd never seen Bagoas give up before. He wasn't sure he liked it.
A couple of times the horse balked at taking another step. Recognizing that the horse was suffering, Hephaestion whacked it on the rump with the reins each time to convince the beast that walking was still a good thing. Bagoas rode in silence, occasionally caught staring curiously at Hephaestion. Finally, a couple of dunes from camp, he said, "You came yourself."
Hephaestion paused a moment, unsure how to answer. So many things to say, so many rebukes, but Hephaestion didn't have the heart to say any of them. He too had often felt the urge to just curl into a ball and die this trip. He could not fault Bagoas for wanting the same, not really. However, they both had a responsibility for Alexander's welfare. As much as Hephaestion had at first resented Bagoas' presence, he realized as time passed that Bagoas did what he could not in fulfilling his obligations to the army and to Alexander. If one of them abandoned Alexander through death or merely walking away, the life support that Alexander relied upon to remain grounded would unravel. Chaos would follow. Hephaestion understood this; it didn't mean he had to like it.
"I couldn't have sent a man," was all Hephaestion answered. He felt it was an inadequate answer but was not surprised when Bagoas nodded his understanding. Obviously Bagoas understood the nature of this immutable triangle also.
The next dune showed the camp and the stream in the distance. Hephaestion popped the cork on the canteen, drank a little, handed it to Bagoas, and then drank some more when it was handed back. After Bagoas had taken another drink he said quietly, "Now I understand."
Relieved, Hephaestion decided now was the time to remind Bagoas of his responsibility in this weird triangle they were involved in. "Keep up with the column then." Hephaestion soothed the horse, who had caught the whiff of water and began to get antsy. "And look after him. I can't, I've my own work to do."
Several people came running forward, helping Bagoas from the horse, and pouring more water down both their throats. Anaximander came for the horse, taking it to water and brushing it down in reward for its extra duty. Both Hephaestion and Bagoas were amazed at the number of people who expressed relief at Bagoas' safe return to camp. A couple of the pages managed weary smiles as well.
Hephaestion shoved the door flap of Alexander's tent open and shoved Bagoas through. "Alexander." The king looked up from some item he was studying that Hephaestion couldn't see. He could see, though, the flash of relief and joy at the sight of the eunuch, who immediately collapsed in a chair without so much as a by-your-leave. "He came staggering in."
Bagoas opened his mouth to protest the statement but Hephaestion had already left. He had work to do before he could rest. His duty was done; the debt he owed Bagoas was repaid. Bagoas had come for him when Bucephalus had died. Only Hephaestion could have understood the sorrow Alexander felt at losing the horse. Perhaps Bagoas was a little like Bucephalus.
Only Hephaestion couldn't bring Bucephalus back. He did bring Bagoas, though, and every piece that kept Alexander tethered to this world had to be protected and maintained...even a rival.
Author: Bagoas Alexandros
Rating: PG
Summary: Hephaestion's POV in the Gedrosian desert...a la Mary Renault.
Author's Note: Response to a challenge/request on ATGstories. Had it done a week ago, too damned lazy to post before now. Not the greatest, really, hate my ending but the rest is okay. (shrug)
The watering hole was a pit by the time Hephaestion arrived. Men and animals had trampled the thin stream to almost mud and what wasn't mud didn't look drinkable. Hephaestion wasn't picky, though, and knelt beside it to drink anyway. Even as he did so, fresh water began to mingle, coming from upstream unimpeded now that the bulk of those desperate for liquid refreshment had gotten their fill.
"Hephaestion." He looked up into the face of his king and managed a weary smile, taking the proffered canteen and tipping it to drink the nourishing liquid. Never had water tasted so divine. "We're losing men everyday."
Hephaestion nodded and tipped the canteen again, swallowing more greedily this time.
"And boys."
Something in the tone gave Hephaestion pause and he looked down at Alexander. The gold hair was bleached almost white, the skin past burning and now tanning bronze, but it was his eyes that held Hephaestion's attention. "Boys?" he asked carefully, tasting the word as if it were a fine wine. "What boys?"
Alexander looked away. "Bagoas for one. He left camp with us this morning," Alexander paused, glancing down almost ashamedly, "but no one has seen him since mid-morning." Hephaestion swore, tossing Alexander the canteen almost angrily. Alexander caught it and looked away from Hephaestion's furious countenance, knowing his words were hurting his friend, but he too was hurting. "I had hoped he was stronger than that, but even the toughest of men have fallen behind." Alexander took a swallow himself and then ran a hand down his sun-roughened face.
"Alexander, go back for him." Alexander looked at Hephaestion in surprise. Hephaestion nodded as if to confirm that Alexander had heard him right. "Go after him. You should never have brought him on this trip."
"Perhaps." Alexander's gaze turned to the direction stragglers were still lurching into camp. "If the fleet is lost through storm or other mischance, well, I'd have lost him anyway."
"He should be with your wife and the household to begin with," Hephaestion grumbled, sitting down on a rock near the muddied watering hole.
Alexander shook his head. "No. Roxanne tried to have him poisoned. And I'm not all that confident that others wouldn't do the same. You and I know him, Hephaestion, but others, they only see him as a bed slave, a eunuch, less than nothing. They don't understand his importance to us."
Hephaestion ignored the wrench in his gut, even though he knew that in some ways Alexander spoke the truth. Bagoas was important, but more to Alexander than to Hephaestion. Bagoas took care of Alexander when Hephaestion could not; as far as Hephaestion was concerned that was Bagoas' only use.
"Go back for him," Hephaestion urged one more time, but Alexander only shook his head.
"No. I cannot show favoritism, even though it hurts my heart." The king smiled wistfully at his seated friend. "You are the only one I would return for, my Hephaestion. As much as I would like to go back for Bagoas, to do so would jeopardize him and myself. No. Perhaps it's better this way." Alexander's expression turned awkward. "I just thought you should know."
With that pronouncement, the king of Macedon and Persia walked back to his tent.
When he was certain Alexander was well out of earshot, Hephaestion began swearing. A sunburnt youth walked by and he snagged the boy's arm. "Anaximander, are there any rested horses?"
The boy looked surprised but nodded toward the string. "Those over there came in first, General Hephaestion, but why -” The boy never finished his sentence, but watched in amazement as Hephaestion stalked to the string of horses, untied one and swung astride in an easy motion.
Hephaestion walked the horse gingerly over. "Give me your canteen. Is it full?"
Anaximander nodded and took Hephaestion's empty one in place of his own. "Get that filled and it's yours." The boy gaped; the lord's was much finer and larger than his own poor quality canteen. Hephaestion cantered the horse out of camp but slowed it to an easy walk a short distance away, returning to the desert from which he had just come.
Heat waves shimmered in the air, reminding Hephaestion of the time Alexander had led his best friends on the dangerous trek to the Oracle at Siwah. That trip was now a mere inconvenience compared to the nightmare that the army lived in Gedrosia. Hephaestion kept his ears alert for a call of aide. Those who fell behind often called their names out so friends might come to help; help never came. This journey had become an 'every man for himself' excursion. If you fell behind, you fell behind.
Besides, if Hephaestion knew anything about Bagoas, the boy was too damned stubborn and too prideful to resort to crying out for help. For someone who had spent a good portion of his life as the sexual plaything of men, Bagoas had a strong sense of self and his own value. Hephaestion had often found himself impressed and exasperated with Bagoas' confidence and meddling, well intentioned though the meddling often was. Still Hephaestion listened all the same, just in case fear and desperation overcame pride and will.
The shadows were growing shorter in the rocky areas or reflecting the few shrubs that managed to subsist in the harsh environment. Hephaestion figured it was getting close to noontime. Ahead was another rock patch; if Bagoas was not there, then Hephaestion would give up. The horse was ready to drop; *he* was ready to drop and Bagoas had obviously fallen to the wayside too far back.
His hopes rose, though, with a slight movement in the waning shadow of the rock patch. Even if it wasn't Bagoas, whoever it was would be going back astride this horse. Hephaestion refused to have the trip be in vain. The few bodies he'd found on the path were already dead. Movement indicated life and life was all Hephaestion was worried about now.
It was the silk pants that identified the body as Bagoas more than anything else. The sun had bleached the young Persian's hair with a reddish tint; the skin reflected a darker tone that would not have been flattering in a harem, marking him as common stock instead of the noble lineage Hephaestion knew the boy derived from. The sun had parched the skin dry, revealing cracks. Dirt and sand clung to the areas where sweat had once accumulated. There was nothing attractive about Bagoas now.
"Bagoas." Hephaestion slid gingerly off the horse, staggering a moment, his legs wobbly.
The boy's eyes fluttered open, slightly unfocused, as he rolled to face Hephaestion. His lips parted, moved as if to speak but the young man's throat was so dry only a rasp emitted from it. Hephaestion leaned down, opening the canteen and lifting the eunuch's head enough that he could swallow a bit of water.
"Not too much yet," he said as Bagoas tried to drink more in a greedy manner. "More later."
The eyes, those expressive eyes, burned with shame. "Your water," he croaked, gesturing weakly to the canteen.
Hephaestion understood. "No, I've come from camp," he assured. "I've plenty. Get up, we haven't got all day." Hephaestion helped Bagoas rise, steadying the heat-weakened legs and then helped the young man on top the horse. At Bagoas' questioning look, he responded, "I'll walk him. He can't carry two, he'll die."
Bagoas nodded, looking completely exhausted and defeated. Hephaestion had seen Bagoas tense, worn out, stressed, angered, and many other things, but this was new. He'd never seen Bagoas give up before. He wasn't sure he liked it.
A couple of times the horse balked at taking another step. Recognizing that the horse was suffering, Hephaestion whacked it on the rump with the reins each time to convince the beast that walking was still a good thing. Bagoas rode in silence, occasionally caught staring curiously at Hephaestion. Finally, a couple of dunes from camp, he said, "You came yourself."
Hephaestion paused a moment, unsure how to answer. So many things to say, so many rebukes, but Hephaestion didn't have the heart to say any of them. He too had often felt the urge to just curl into a ball and die this trip. He could not fault Bagoas for wanting the same, not really. However, they both had a responsibility for Alexander's welfare. As much as Hephaestion had at first resented Bagoas' presence, he realized as time passed that Bagoas did what he could not in fulfilling his obligations to the army and to Alexander. If one of them abandoned Alexander through death or merely walking away, the life support that Alexander relied upon to remain grounded would unravel. Chaos would follow. Hephaestion understood this; it didn't mean he had to like it.
"I couldn't have sent a man," was all Hephaestion answered. He felt it was an inadequate answer but was not surprised when Bagoas nodded his understanding. Obviously Bagoas understood the nature of this immutable triangle also.
The next dune showed the camp and the stream in the distance. Hephaestion popped the cork on the canteen, drank a little, handed it to Bagoas, and then drank some more when it was handed back. After Bagoas had taken another drink he said quietly, "Now I understand."
Relieved, Hephaestion decided now was the time to remind Bagoas of his responsibility in this weird triangle they were involved in. "Keep up with the column then." Hephaestion soothed the horse, who had caught the whiff of water and began to get antsy. "And look after him. I can't, I've my own work to do."
Several people came running forward, helping Bagoas from the horse, and pouring more water down both their throats. Anaximander came for the horse, taking it to water and brushing it down in reward for its extra duty. Both Hephaestion and Bagoas were amazed at the number of people who expressed relief at Bagoas' safe return to camp. A couple of the pages managed weary smiles as well.
Hephaestion shoved the door flap of Alexander's tent open and shoved Bagoas through. "Alexander." The king looked up from some item he was studying that Hephaestion couldn't see. He could see, though, the flash of relief and joy at the sight of the eunuch, who immediately collapsed in a chair without so much as a by-your-leave. "He came staggering in."
Bagoas opened his mouth to protest the statement but Hephaestion had already left. He had work to do before he could rest. His duty was done; the debt he owed Bagoas was repaid. Bagoas had come for him when Bucephalus had died. Only Hephaestion could have understood the sorrow Alexander felt at losing the horse. Perhaps Bagoas was a little like Bucephalus.
Only Hephaestion couldn't bring Bucephalus back. He did bring Bagoas, though, and every piece that kept Alexander tethered to this world had to be protected and maintained...even a rival.