HEPHAISTION'S BRIDE,PART 2
Summary: It's about Hephaistion's wedding to Drypetis. It is not know much about it, even less about Drypetis, so everything I wrote is pure work of my imagination mixed with some facts about life in ancient Persian Empire.
Rating: R-ish?
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned here are either work of fiction or fictionaly used. I don't make money out of this.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Hephaistion sat in the chair of the pure gold next to his king. It was his wedding-day, but oddly he wasn't happy, there was no sense of anticipation in his chests, no excitement, no rapid pulse and hindered breathing, nothing, he felt nothing. He laughed with others at some crude joke, smiled politely at friendly comments on behalf of his luck, or at flattery, which Persians knew so well to blind you with, while pouring strychnine into your goblet.
He watched his king, his friend, his lover and was amazed with sparks of joy that he found in his eyes. A moment of carelessness and he found himself drowning in Alexandros' glance. He was happy, there was no argument about that, if not for the pure, natural feeling that can only evoke a thought of soft, woman's body next to his, then for accomplishment he surely felt at the end of such fragile mission. As much Hephaistion knew him, he would go for the second reason. Be that as it may, Alexandros' eyes held that perfect, intense colour between grey and blue, which they had shown only in moments of elation.
Hephaistion smiled at himself; he was watching Alexandros as it was him he is going to marry. He was the first to toast Alexandros, calling for Moirai to give him sons and heirs and long, glorious lives, mentioning their friendship and his loyalty; every word held its own meaning, each burnt like hot steel on the skin, each reminded him of love for Alexandros, so pure and so simple. People say young lovers long to be the best men on the wedding, not each others men. Hephaistion understood that well, for he lived among them, yet he found it difficult to relate to.
That night when he was told he is getting married, ordered in a way, he felt the last bond that had bounded him to Alexandros tearing off slowly. It hurt. It felt like light, but deadly bite of a desert scorpion, an instantaneous sting of a poisonous arrow in the back-oh, how much he wished it was a scorpion, an arrow.
They talked about it before, but it never had a meaning; now it seemed surreal, to hold Alexandros in his arms and to talk about a girl, even a noble one was blasphemy, mocking of their love. Hephaistion remembered how they lied together entwined at the cold nights in Mieza or in freezing, winter evenings in Ilyrian mountains and swore to all Olympian gods that nothing will separate them, no girl, not duty, no army, not even Olympias or death. Then, they thought they could do everything, cross every mountain, river, continent and stay the same; every youth thinks to be invincible, soft steel forged into hard, iron blade without any change. Their dream came true, Alexandros' army was never defeated, but what about Alexandros' love?
It was one of those rare nights, when King Alexandros found some time to relax and enjoy in arms of his lifelong lover tht he spoke those sealing words. It was only there he could loose himself completely, with no bounds and restrain, in total abandon; there two bodies would merge into one, single soul; yet he spoke about the third being. Hephaistion knew how important he was to his lover, but sometimes he needed only to hear how irreplaceable he was, he was simply a human, no god.
It was with Alexandros on his mind, when abrupt start of wedding songs jerked him out of daydreaming to see a young woman with purple veil covering her face, approaching him with confidence.
She stood tall in front of him, waiting. Seeing Alexandros taking his bride by her hand and guiding her next to him on the chair, Hephaisiton did the same. He stood up just to find out that the young woman is of almost same height as him. For a long moment he gazed through the veil, trying to see the colour of her eyes, which she shyly averted.
Strangely, for the first time he felt his heart racing and for a moment there was no space for anyone in his thoughts but this tall, young girl. He extended his arm taking her soft, but unpleasantly cold hand in his. Hephaistion didn't need to pull her gently next to him; she did that on her own accord, perhaps irritated by waiting and his lack of manly decisiveness, Drypetis passed by his right side and sat on the left, the right one being the side of respect.
Hephaistion watched her in a daze. He has never seen her, he simply couldn't. Persians congratulated him on his knowledge of their customs, Macedonians joked cynically that he wanted to follow barbaric tradition more than Alexandros himself, but the true was that he didn't want to see the bridge that will distant him further from his only care; it was like death without dying, a death that won't give him the rite of passage to the Elysian fields, but will make him a cursed ghost that will float between the worlds, knocking on the forbidden door forever in vain.
Hephaistion wasn't stupid, whatever they say, he knew what it meant. Alexandros would save pride and dignity in this way, not his own, though, but Hephaistion's. Personally, young chiliarch never cared what was said about them, he learned that from the beginning. All this was a charade; in reality, everything will stay the same, a public secret, truly known only to them and servants whose tongues would be cut off if anything slipped from their mouth, or already have been, for that matter. It was a gift. Hephaistion understood the unutterable. Alexandros was in love with giving and his lover won't begrudge him that.
His bride lifted the veil, uncovering narrow face with large, almond shaped black diamonds, in which Hephaistion found himself mirrored. For a split of a second he met her proud look, challenging him silently, but then she looked away, fixing glistening gaze on her feet, as a modest woman should do. Rays of early afternoon sun bathed her in golden light, refracting themselves in her loose, ebony hair that handsomely framed her fragile features. They were sitting towards the East, the light and Ahura Mazda. Hephaistion smiled; was that a belief or a wise trick, so that the bridegroom won't be sure was he dazzled by the girl's beauty or simply blinded by the sun, or both. Anyway, it seemed to young warrior that both fire and light were drawn in her face, in her eyes.
As she left, when the wedding song ended, he looked after her, for the first time noticing purple, scarlet and golden carpets, gilded curtain rods that supported side curtains woven in patterns, hundred couches on which high born guests were sitting, the whole pavilion with stylized columns. The mirrors and two candelabras that should've been placed in front of the bride and bridegroom, representing the couple, the fire and light were missing from the traditional Persian wedding scene; the place would be too crowded. But there was also no one to throw wheat on them and strangely no Avesta, the ancient Zoroastrian holy book, but after all the wedding was unision of the East and the West. He wondered what will be his life with her. He hoped earnestly that she wasn't like Olympias.
Hephaistion exchanged a quick glance with his lover whose eyes carried amusement and solace; his face must have shown his fears.
* * *
Helios finally ended his everyday journey on the West, leaving golden dust tinted with crimson and orange behind his chariots, on the cobalt sky. After that Selena will quickly assume her right, covering warm, sandy soil in thin, silvery net of cracked silhouettes.
Night was hot and star-studded. Hephaistion raised his face towards the little, blinking, golden and silver dots that shone like golden pearls in jet black hair of his bride. He watched them, walking slowly, trying to delay the moment for as long as possible, seeing only one star in front of his eyes that glittered more than his life and which he left behind.
He could still hear joyful laughter of his friends in arms, both generals and soldiers, who stayed in the pavilion, drunk with happiness and strong, spiced wine. The only ones still singing in the pavilion, or already reclining drunk all over the beds and under tables, were mostly guests waiting for the display of the bridal sheets, anyone's but not the queen's. Hephaistion left the drinking party sober and way too concerned. Ptolomey, Perdikkas, Seleuces and himself escorted Alexandros to Stateira's chambers, and afterwards Hephaistion escorted each of them until he stayed alone. Then, instead of walking towards his bride's door, he went into the gardens, not being intercepted by anyone; only a Macedonian soldier patrolling in front of the outer door gave him a respectful nod, and couple of Persian slaves ran away from him, before he could notice them.
Now he is strolling through the exotic gardens of Susa, unconsciously trying to find something...anything that would remind him of fresh and fragrant nights in Makedonia. He needed a just a moment more of peace and than he will head towards his duty.
Walking down the dim palace corridors, he made himself to think of the young princess, waiting for him, but couldn't stop his mind of remembering someone else.
Hephaistion knocked on massive, carved door, letting him easily through to reveal a room drowned in moonlight and gleam from oil lamps in the corners, which trembled at the lightest touch of fresh air. Colorful drapes swelled at the constant tease of the wind, coming from the dusty planes and sandy dunes outside Susa.
A shadow danced on the marble tiled floor in the waving light. Hephaistion saw it before its owner, who stood silently in the thick shade of the corner with arms crossed over chests, protectively or angrily. He couldn't decide. He moved towards the center of the room and the silhouette stepped out of the dim space, her arms falling next to her lithe body.
They stood one against another, waiting for the next step, studying each other. She was waiting for him, Hephaistion sensed that. They looked at each other's eyes. Here, in the privacy of her bedroom, she didn't have reason not to look straight into his, challenging him once more.
Looking into her, he felt strange dizziness overwhelming him. He watched her like a biologist wood a rare bird which could fly away if he made a wrong move, but why, then, his muscles suddenly tensed as he was approaching unknown enemy, studying every quiver, the smallest shudder. He couldn't explain.
It seemed as they danced some foreign dance, inventing steps on the way. Hephaistion would shift towards huge, canopy bed, in the dark, while she would proceed in the light. There, while standing in the waving pool of shimmering silver beam, Hephaistion could see her fully: thin,lithe body, small breasts, long, elegant neck and soft, ivory colour of her skin.
He extended his arm towards her.
-How are you, Drypetis?-he asked in his quiet fluent Persian, tasting her name while it rolled over his lips.
-I'm fine, my lord.-she answered in Greek.
He couldn't suppress a smile.
He took her hand gently, pulling her towards him. He felt her shiver under his touch, but he didn't give it much thought.
This was new to him and he didn't know how to approach it. Yes, there were women in his life, not many of them, though, one in Makedonia, after some heavy drinking party, the other in one of the cities he built for his Alexandros, he couldn't even remember where it was, the third and the last on some night after Alexandros' wedding to Roxane. All of them were courtesans, trained to bring him pleasure and knew more of it than him. This was different. He was never with a virgin, and there is no doubt she was one.
No, she wasn't the only one. Realization struck him as a thunderbolt, leaving him grasping for air, forcing himself not to succumb to raging emotions that clawed at his heart, craving for its blood, for his tears. As when dark, rainy clouds roll off of the mountain, Hephaistion could recognize sacred parts of his memory whirling through his sullen mind. A familiar face started showing, slowly closing into a firm reality in front of his half-shut eyes, like an outline of thin clouds on the midday sky.
It seemed yesterday when a boy was running through tall grass of Makednonian plains, naked but for a piece of cloth wrapped around narrow hips, unaware of pair of entranced eyes following him. Straws would bent under the force of nature that would throw his head laughing with sheer pleasure of sweet tasted freedom, while golden locks would make halo around his face, caressing unmarked, flushed, pale skin and half-opened, full lips.
It was like yesterday when that very same boy was looking for sanctuary in Hephaistion's embrace, when those red mouth found their way to his, locking themselves with desperate need of a survivor.
It looked like now that light grey eyes were closed in ecstatic delight, swollen lips parted, moaning again and again the same name. Like yesterday it was when the golden body arched in ancient mixture of pain and pleasure, a ruby drop was drawn in rapture, nails like daggers stabbed into flanks, a cry was torn from the depths of the soul, primeval and innocent in its inexperience.
Still spellbound, with watery pictures swirling in haze of shaken passion, Hephaistion's arms crushed her to his chests, tearing soft fabric of silken nightgown from Drypetis' shoulders, baring them to his powerful clutches. His ardent lips trailed blindly curves of her face, pressing them possessively in tempest of fervent rapture.
There was only one face that will be his forever.
He didn't see in frantic oblivion wide opened eyes shining with terror, dilated pupils, pale, blood deserted face; he only heard a shriek, worse than any he's ever heard on the battlefield, wail of defending lioness full of fear and fury.
Drypetis broke away from his tight grasp with strength Hephaistion couldn't imagine she possessed. He was standing there paralyzed, afraid of and disgusted with his own actions. He lost control in front of a total stranger, that stranger being his bride, even worse-he lost it in front of a defenseless maiden.
-I'm sorry, Drypetis, really sorry.
She looked shaken, unable to speak, fear replacing fury after the initial shock. Wide eyes still glistened with fire on the twinkling moonlight, giving her the look of a wrecked soul driven by Erinyes. Hephaistion instinctively stepped back, like a pious man would in front of a cursed creature, not knowing would she attack him, clawing her nails into his face, like he knew Olympias sometimes did.
He expected everything, but to see the proud girl slump her shoulders, lowering her head, covering her face with her hands. A barely audible sob reached his ears and his heart contracted with shameful truth-she was crying. He made his bride weep on her wedding night.
Hephaistion approached her slowly, gently, as he would towards a wounded lion cub. She didn't look at him, only quivered when he touched her shoulder.
-I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't behave as a wife should.-her voice was a hoarse whisper.
Even when he pulled her with him tenderly to sit on the edge of the grand bed, she didn't face him; she expected to be struck; she knew that some husbands do that, although it was frowned at. She hadn't known if he will be rougher with her now or not, but she was certain that Alexandros would understand that, after all he was a gentleman. Whatever happens Drypetis won't make a sound.
-It is me who should be sorry, my lady.
She looked at him questionably, not expecting such words; yes, a nobleman would excuse for she was the princess after all, but she knew well that there were many of high position who were worse than a bandit.
Hephaistion felt her calming down, but could still sense shivers that coursed through her body sporadicly.
-I did the worst thing a man should have done. I made you afraid of me, when I am here to protect you.
She moved her eyes to his, gazing into sky blue depths. He felt scrutinizing look upon himself and let his soul be bared to her piercing eyes. A deep, painful sigh escaped his chests.
-I am not afraid of you, my lord.-she said quietly, but firmly.-There are other things I am afraid of, but not you. I am afraid to be hurt....so many times I was; being a princess doesn't spare me hurt. I don't trust people, I can't....My father trusted his friends...and you know what happened...and living at the court is not easy with all the palace intrigues...
When she stopped a deafening silence fell upon them. Hephaistion didn't know for how long they have sat like that. She moved away from him, silently, but unambiguously. He could demand her here and now, it was his right, but he found voice just to say:
-Drypetis, know that I will never hurt you....I would never hurt a woman.-Hephaistion took her cold hand into his and placed a feathery kiss on it.
-When you obtain trust in me, I will come to you, Drypetis. Until then.
He went out swiftly, not turning back. When the door closed behind him with betraying squeak, he leaned on them, closing his eyes.
He didn't want to come back there, he didn't want his life changed.
The moon was high on the ink sky, soundlessly moving over the cold Earth's crust, its transparent rays knitting impenetrable web of dreams.
Hephaistion returned to his bride's room to find her sleeping exhausted sleep, hot tears still wetting ivory cheeks. He smiled somber smile, clutching a white bundle desperately. He opened it once more, red spot still dripping blood-his blood. He left it silently on the bed. He turned to leave, and then as remembering something placed clasp of his cloak over it, its golden beams disturbing dusk.
END of part2