Fic: Worthy of Your Soul 6/WIP
Title: Worthy of Your Soul 6/WIP
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG13
Summary: Hephaistion is asked by Philip to spy on Alexander and finds himself between a rock and a hard place.
Copyright: © Trust No One March 2006
A/N: Heartfelt thanks to my Beta Fiona, whose superb skills have helped shape this story.
Six
Philip studied the reports before him with growing dismay. It was not like he had not expected it to happen sooner or later. But Thebes, once an ally, albeit a shaky one, was now ready to renege on the treaty Philip had made them sign three years prior and this would result in an alliance with Athens against Macedon. Sworn enemy of Macedon, Demosthenes the Athenian orator was snaking his glib tongue around the credulous leaders of Thebes. Philip’s spies agreed that sooner or later this was bound to happen, but in the past months there had been a particular breakdown in communications due to Philip’s loss of a valuable spy. The King sighed: other avenues and informers would have to be found, which invariably meant more money to be spent to instill trust or at least titillate the greed of those who could be bought thus. What was a lot more difficult was finding a trustworthy source and not a mere greedy merchant who barked in whichever direction the wind happened to blow. There were a few possibilities, but he had to think carefully in order to make the right choice. The channels of communication had to be reestablished soon, since it seemed likely that Athens was pressurizing Thebes more than usual into finally taking sides against its erstwhile ally.
Two days passed and the King was still mulling over the possibilities when he was told that Hephaistion Amyntoros was seeking an audience with him. Mildly irritated, he declined to see the youth straight away, busy as he was with matters of state, but he allowed Hephaistion a few minutes of his time before supper, since the chamberlain complained that Hephaistion had been entirely too insistent and had been adamant that he had urgent matters to discuss with the King.
When Hephaistion entered the King’s study, it was obvious that he had been standing around the whole day, waiting for a chance to see Philip. The boy looked like a wet dog, coughing and shivering. The first rain of late winter had fallen recently and it was clear that Hephaistion had not changed out of his wet traveling cloak, for fear of missing his chance to talk to Philip. His clothes were still partly soaked and he was probably getting a fever from the glisten in his eyes, but Philip was too annoyed to give it any heed.
‘Speak, Hephaistion, and make it short. Thanasios has told me you plagued him the whole day like a bad case of piles. What is so important that could not wait until tomorrow? Have you brought me a report already on Olympias’ letters to my son?’
Hephaistion swallowed dryly and began to speak in a voice that sounded beyond hoarse.
‘No, my lord, there is another reason why I am here. I wish to serve you, only not in the way you ordered me.’
Philip’s nod edged on boredom as he beckoned Hephaistion to go on and his whole being exuded an air of impatience at the time Hephaistion was wasting him. His eyes narrowed.
‘Really?’ he smirked. ‘What else have you got to offer that I would be interested in?’ His tone was deliberately humiliating and the fact did not pass unnoticed by the youth whose eyes darkened in impotent fury.
Hephaistion gritted his teeth. ‘As you surely know, my uncle Philon is a merchant of some stature in Athens. Over the years, Philon and my father have built a network of informants and messengers who have passed on valuable information from all sources and levels. More than that, Philon himself has a very close relationship with one Perikles who is one of the secretaries serving Demosthenes. Perikles is privy to a great deal of secret meetings and communications that go between Demosthenes and various Greek, and probably even Persian, dignitaries.’
Intrigued, Philip raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, I am aware of that. What is it that you are saying?’
‘Shortly before he died, my father told me the about nature of his duties he performed with you. About the information that passed between my uncle and my father and you. And he instructed me in certain passwords and simple coding procedures.’
Hephaistion’s voice gained a little edge of confidence as he locked eyes with the King whose expression of amusement and boredom had given way to concentration. ‘Demosthenes’ secretary reported via my uncle every half moon and my uncle also sent regular reports from his other informers. The the communications between them have only ceased recently, after Philon learned that my father had died. But I have read the recent reports that kept arriving at my father’s household for several weeks following his death.’
‘I wrote back requesting him to resume communication, this time with me. I used the same channels and key words that my father instructed me to use should the need ever arise.’
‘And,’ Philip’s tone was serious, concerned and not holding any patronizing edge, ‘do you think that he will continue to supply information to you as he did to your father?’
‘Yes, I believe that he will. His closeness to Perikles is a secret, my father told me, so the source of information can hardly be traced to him. My father told me that my uncle and Perikles went to gymnasium together and that they have been lifelong friends, but that they are never seen together. Nothing in the world would make one betray the other.’
Philip snorted. ‘There is no such thing as ‘nothing in the world’. No one will stand for another against all odds.’
A fleeting thought about Pausanias flashed through Philip’s mind. Any lover or friend was expendable and he who could not or would not see and understand that was a fool.
‘You should know,’ he resumed immediately, uncomfortable at the thought, ‘that I financed your father’s informants and quite generously at that. Until your father died, they did not disappoint. Few are so faithful as those whose loyalty is bought with large amounts of gold.’
‘I suspected as much. My father told me that Philon pays a fair price for the valuable information the he gets from various third parties, excepting Perikles, of course, who does it for my uncle’s sake,’ Hephaistion replied slowly. ‘I took the liberty of telling my uncle that the usual tokens of gratitude would be coming their way soon enough.’ He blushed to his ears when he fumbled, ‘I did not know how much that was and hoped that you would decide on the appropriate amount.’
At that, Philip let out a throaty guffaw. ‘You’re outdoing yourself, boy. Giving away my money so boldly.’
Hephaistion stared at the floor, cheeks still aflame. ‘Forgive me, sire. It was the only thing I could think to do.’
Philip masked a smile. He regarded the boy in front of him, trying to imagine what depth of despair had made his brain work with the audacity and hot-headedness that he had just displayed.
‘I knew that your father had a brother in Athens, however he never revealed who his sources were,’ Philip said impassibly. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’
The boy hesitated a little before he replied. ‘Because it is the only thing I can do. I will not spy on Alexander, but I should be honoured to do my duty for my king. In return, I would ask you for nothing more than to allow my family and myself to continue living in Macedon, under your protection.’
Candor was not something the boy lacked, Philip noted as he studied Hephaistion who looked so bereft of hope that a more compassionate man’s heart would have bled. It was obvious that whatever had happened at Mieza had taken its toll on the boy and Philip was sure it involved Alexander. Had his son driven Hephaistion from his side? It was not impossible that his son had found out that he had ordered his best friend to spy on him and if Philip knew Alexander at all, then his reaction would have been fierce.
Back to the matter at hand, Philip liked the idea of enlisting Hephaistion’s help. It would prove so much more lucrative than having Hephaistion report on Alexander’s correspondence with Olympias. The lines of communication he had lost with Amyntor’s death could be revived, if he gave the young man the proper guidance. However, there was one more matter that the king was sure Amyntor’s son was unaware of. And that could make all the difference.
‘You realize that this notion you have, of serving me this way,’ he said smoothly, ‘is not without its dangers.’
Hephaistion nodded and there was the beginning of an anxious glint in his eyes.
‘On the battlefield, the enemy looks you in the eye and hacks at you openly. In this line of work, often the arm of revenge reaches out from a distance.’
Philip noted Hephaistion’s features hardening as if he was steeling himself for a blow. He decided to deliver it, because there was not a way to say or do this gently.
‘Do you know how your father died?’
Hephaistion moved his lips but no sound came out. Philip almost felt the chill that ran through the youth’s body, causing him to shiver violently.
‘A sudden illness, or that’s what you were told,’ Philip continued relentlessly. ‘A sudden illness in a man who had never been sick in his life.’
Philip’s eyes bore into Hephaistion’s. He remembered the distressed youth who had been called from Mieza just in time to see his father draw his last breath. He was reminded of the boy’s struggle to understand how it had all happened so quickly and so suddenly. And now, the spreading horror in Hephaistion’s eyes told Philip that he suspected the answer. He drove it home.
‘He was assassinated, Hephaistion. And we do not know by whom, although we have enough suspicions.’
Hephaistion’s neck sinews pulsed with the tension and his fists shut and released. For all his young years, he looked like a predator about to strike. But only for a moment. Realization hit him just as quick as rage had incensed him and Philip wondered if the boy would collapse to the floor, such was the pallor that suddenly overcame him. Unexpected pity for the young man tightened the King’s chest.
‘There can be no blood feud, because in this case, the enemies are unseen. But,’ Philip hastened to add, almost surprised at the edge of concern he felt for the devastated youth, ‘it does not mean that there was no honour in your father’s death. There are few men that I hold in higher regard than your father. For that reason, I had to make you aware of what can happen. To make sure you walk into this with your eyes open.’
Philip paused a moment, giving Hephaistion time to gather the pieces of himself. ‘I accept your offer, Hephaistion. It was a brave thing you planned and I will help you as much as I can, should you need it, even though you’ve done a rather good job on your own so far.’
Hephaistion’s gaze, still glazed over in shock, thawed a little at hearing the words and he managed to find the words to thank the king.
‘Go and rest, get some hot wine into you and for Zeus’ sake, get some dry clothes on, you’re going to catch your death like that. I have no use for sick spies,’ Philip tried to joke but it was plain that the boy did not share the jest. His fevered eyes grew heavy as if he had rid himself of an oppressive burden and he was ready to give into the sickness that slunk about him.
Philip watched Hephaistion take his leave and wondered for the first time what his son’s reaction would be if he knew what his best friend had proposed. And how likely it was that sooner rather than later, the son would follow in his father’s footsteps.
~~
The shakes started from his stomach and it took less than a minute for them to spread like a riot through the rest of Hephaistion’s body. Summoning up what strength he had left, the boy raced out of the king’s study, fast enough to alarm the guards who checked in worriedly on their king. He barely made it outside to empty the meager contents of his stomach behind a pillar. Supporting himself with one arm lest he collapsed, Hephaistion gagged, shivering and coughing violently. He had known that he was catching a chill on the way home, but he had ignored the signs and his determination had kept his body sheathed in a cocoon of obstinacy. Philip’s revelation about the truth behind Amyntor’s death had delivered the final blow and the misery and sickness were rapidly advancing on him.
Hephaistion staggered to the barrack accommodations and, with great difficulty, he managed to strip his wet clothes and crawled under the blankets. The tremors refused to subside and soon his teeth were clattering and he was sweating with the effort to control the shudders. He was aware of fire spreading in his chest and he welcomed the fever, thinking that it would warm him up. He was mistaken. For what seemed like hours, he continued to shiver until he was sick again, but could do nothing but heave dryly; his stomach was empty. Amid half-conscious thought, he became aware that he was scared. He had never felt so sick in his entire life and he recognized enough of the symptoms to realize that the chill he had caught had turned into dire chest trouble.
Visions of his father, swathed in red firelight swam through his mind. Amyntor smiled at him, arms outstretched as if to welcome his son and spoke something that Hephaistion could not discern. He strained towards the man, desperately trying to reach far enough to touch him, but his arms were leaden and would not listen to him. Firelight and Amyntor dissipated quickly into darkness and in his mind, Hephaistion screamed for their loss.
Then he heard a shy susurration, like the clear, sweet water of the river at Mieza. Fascinated, Hephaistion pricked his ears: it sang to him. It sang with words and light and finally, like lines of sunlight through the trees, he saw a golden head. The voice of the river came closer and the sun wrapped him in its shielding heat. Gone were the shivers as arms circled around his back and a hot body suffused its heat through Hephaistion’s warmth-starved frame.
The Sun-god still sang to him, and he smelled of apples and grass and sun-warmed linen. It breathed into his ear, every word rolling off the sweet tongue smelting the very last corners of Hephaistion’s frozen body and he wanted to die from rapture and warmth and liquid fire.
‘Stay with me…. Don’t let me die alone…’ Hephaistion pleaded for he was sure that no mortal could face the ecstasy of the singing sun and live to tell the tale.
His eyelids dipped and his body relaxed, comfortable and oblivious in the fiery embrace.
‘Alexander…’ he whispered drowsily and let himself float away.
Author: trust_n0_1
Rating: PG13
Summary: Hephaistion is asked by Philip to spy on Alexander and finds himself between a rock and a hard place.
Copyright: © Trust No One March 2006
A/N: Heartfelt thanks to my Beta Fiona, whose superb skills have helped shape this story.
Six
Philip studied the reports before him with growing dismay. It was not like he had not expected it to happen sooner or later. But Thebes, once an ally, albeit a shaky one, was now ready to renege on the treaty Philip had made them sign three years prior and this would result in an alliance with Athens against Macedon. Sworn enemy of Macedon, Demosthenes the Athenian orator was snaking his glib tongue around the credulous leaders of Thebes. Philip’s spies agreed that sooner or later this was bound to happen, but in the past months there had been a particular breakdown in communications due to Philip’s loss of a valuable spy. The King sighed: other avenues and informers would have to be found, which invariably meant more money to be spent to instill trust or at least titillate the greed of those who could be bought thus. What was a lot more difficult was finding a trustworthy source and not a mere greedy merchant who barked in whichever direction the wind happened to blow. There were a few possibilities, but he had to think carefully in order to make the right choice. The channels of communication had to be reestablished soon, since it seemed likely that Athens was pressurizing Thebes more than usual into finally taking sides against its erstwhile ally.
Two days passed and the King was still mulling over the possibilities when he was told that Hephaistion Amyntoros was seeking an audience with him. Mildly irritated, he declined to see the youth straight away, busy as he was with matters of state, but he allowed Hephaistion a few minutes of his time before supper, since the chamberlain complained that Hephaistion had been entirely too insistent and had been adamant that he had urgent matters to discuss with the King.
When Hephaistion entered the King’s study, it was obvious that he had been standing around the whole day, waiting for a chance to see Philip. The boy looked like a wet dog, coughing and shivering. The first rain of late winter had fallen recently and it was clear that Hephaistion had not changed out of his wet traveling cloak, for fear of missing his chance to talk to Philip. His clothes were still partly soaked and he was probably getting a fever from the glisten in his eyes, but Philip was too annoyed to give it any heed.
‘Speak, Hephaistion, and make it short. Thanasios has told me you plagued him the whole day like a bad case of piles. What is so important that could not wait until tomorrow? Have you brought me a report already on Olympias’ letters to my son?’
Hephaistion swallowed dryly and began to speak in a voice that sounded beyond hoarse.
‘No, my lord, there is another reason why I am here. I wish to serve you, only not in the way you ordered me.’
Philip’s nod edged on boredom as he beckoned Hephaistion to go on and his whole being exuded an air of impatience at the time Hephaistion was wasting him. His eyes narrowed.
‘Really?’ he smirked. ‘What else have you got to offer that I would be interested in?’ His tone was deliberately humiliating and the fact did not pass unnoticed by the youth whose eyes darkened in impotent fury.
Hephaistion gritted his teeth. ‘As you surely know, my uncle Philon is a merchant of some stature in Athens. Over the years, Philon and my father have built a network of informants and messengers who have passed on valuable information from all sources and levels. More than that, Philon himself has a very close relationship with one Perikles who is one of the secretaries serving Demosthenes. Perikles is privy to a great deal of secret meetings and communications that go between Demosthenes and various Greek, and probably even Persian, dignitaries.’
Intrigued, Philip raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, I am aware of that. What is it that you are saying?’
‘Shortly before he died, my father told me the about nature of his duties he performed with you. About the information that passed between my uncle and my father and you. And he instructed me in certain passwords and simple coding procedures.’
Hephaistion’s voice gained a little edge of confidence as he locked eyes with the King whose expression of amusement and boredom had given way to concentration. ‘Demosthenes’ secretary reported via my uncle every half moon and my uncle also sent regular reports from his other informers. The the communications between them have only ceased recently, after Philon learned that my father had died. But I have read the recent reports that kept arriving at my father’s household for several weeks following his death.’
‘I wrote back requesting him to resume communication, this time with me. I used the same channels and key words that my father instructed me to use should the need ever arise.’
‘And,’ Philip’s tone was serious, concerned and not holding any patronizing edge, ‘do you think that he will continue to supply information to you as he did to your father?’
‘Yes, I believe that he will. His closeness to Perikles is a secret, my father told me, so the source of information can hardly be traced to him. My father told me that my uncle and Perikles went to gymnasium together and that they have been lifelong friends, but that they are never seen together. Nothing in the world would make one betray the other.’
Philip snorted. ‘There is no such thing as ‘nothing in the world’. No one will stand for another against all odds.’
A fleeting thought about Pausanias flashed through Philip’s mind. Any lover or friend was expendable and he who could not or would not see and understand that was a fool.
‘You should know,’ he resumed immediately, uncomfortable at the thought, ‘that I financed your father’s informants and quite generously at that. Until your father died, they did not disappoint. Few are so faithful as those whose loyalty is bought with large amounts of gold.’
‘I suspected as much. My father told me that Philon pays a fair price for the valuable information the he gets from various third parties, excepting Perikles, of course, who does it for my uncle’s sake,’ Hephaistion replied slowly. ‘I took the liberty of telling my uncle that the usual tokens of gratitude would be coming their way soon enough.’ He blushed to his ears when he fumbled, ‘I did not know how much that was and hoped that you would decide on the appropriate amount.’
At that, Philip let out a throaty guffaw. ‘You’re outdoing yourself, boy. Giving away my money so boldly.’
Hephaistion stared at the floor, cheeks still aflame. ‘Forgive me, sire. It was the only thing I could think to do.’
Philip masked a smile. He regarded the boy in front of him, trying to imagine what depth of despair had made his brain work with the audacity and hot-headedness that he had just displayed.
‘I knew that your father had a brother in Athens, however he never revealed who his sources were,’ Philip said impassibly. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’
The boy hesitated a little before he replied. ‘Because it is the only thing I can do. I will not spy on Alexander, but I should be honoured to do my duty for my king. In return, I would ask you for nothing more than to allow my family and myself to continue living in Macedon, under your protection.’
Candor was not something the boy lacked, Philip noted as he studied Hephaistion who looked so bereft of hope that a more compassionate man’s heart would have bled. It was obvious that whatever had happened at Mieza had taken its toll on the boy and Philip was sure it involved Alexander. Had his son driven Hephaistion from his side? It was not impossible that his son had found out that he had ordered his best friend to spy on him and if Philip knew Alexander at all, then his reaction would have been fierce.
Back to the matter at hand, Philip liked the idea of enlisting Hephaistion’s help. It would prove so much more lucrative than having Hephaistion report on Alexander’s correspondence with Olympias. The lines of communication he had lost with Amyntor’s death could be revived, if he gave the young man the proper guidance. However, there was one more matter that the king was sure Amyntor’s son was unaware of. And that could make all the difference.
‘You realize that this notion you have, of serving me this way,’ he said smoothly, ‘is not without its dangers.’
Hephaistion nodded and there was the beginning of an anxious glint in his eyes.
‘On the battlefield, the enemy looks you in the eye and hacks at you openly. In this line of work, often the arm of revenge reaches out from a distance.’
Philip noted Hephaistion’s features hardening as if he was steeling himself for a blow. He decided to deliver it, because there was not a way to say or do this gently.
‘Do you know how your father died?’
Hephaistion moved his lips but no sound came out. Philip almost felt the chill that ran through the youth’s body, causing him to shiver violently.
‘A sudden illness, or that’s what you were told,’ Philip continued relentlessly. ‘A sudden illness in a man who had never been sick in his life.’
Philip’s eyes bore into Hephaistion’s. He remembered the distressed youth who had been called from Mieza just in time to see his father draw his last breath. He was reminded of the boy’s struggle to understand how it had all happened so quickly and so suddenly. And now, the spreading horror in Hephaistion’s eyes told Philip that he suspected the answer. He drove it home.
‘He was assassinated, Hephaistion. And we do not know by whom, although we have enough suspicions.’
Hephaistion’s neck sinews pulsed with the tension and his fists shut and released. For all his young years, he looked like a predator about to strike. But only for a moment. Realization hit him just as quick as rage had incensed him and Philip wondered if the boy would collapse to the floor, such was the pallor that suddenly overcame him. Unexpected pity for the young man tightened the King’s chest.
‘There can be no blood feud, because in this case, the enemies are unseen. But,’ Philip hastened to add, almost surprised at the edge of concern he felt for the devastated youth, ‘it does not mean that there was no honour in your father’s death. There are few men that I hold in higher regard than your father. For that reason, I had to make you aware of what can happen. To make sure you walk into this with your eyes open.’
Philip paused a moment, giving Hephaistion time to gather the pieces of himself. ‘I accept your offer, Hephaistion. It was a brave thing you planned and I will help you as much as I can, should you need it, even though you’ve done a rather good job on your own so far.’
Hephaistion’s gaze, still glazed over in shock, thawed a little at hearing the words and he managed to find the words to thank the king.
‘Go and rest, get some hot wine into you and for Zeus’ sake, get some dry clothes on, you’re going to catch your death like that. I have no use for sick spies,’ Philip tried to joke but it was plain that the boy did not share the jest. His fevered eyes grew heavy as if he had rid himself of an oppressive burden and he was ready to give into the sickness that slunk about him.
Philip watched Hephaistion take his leave and wondered for the first time what his son’s reaction would be if he knew what his best friend had proposed. And how likely it was that sooner rather than later, the son would follow in his father’s footsteps.
~~
The shakes started from his stomach and it took less than a minute for them to spread like a riot through the rest of Hephaistion’s body. Summoning up what strength he had left, the boy raced out of the king’s study, fast enough to alarm the guards who checked in worriedly on their king. He barely made it outside to empty the meager contents of his stomach behind a pillar. Supporting himself with one arm lest he collapsed, Hephaistion gagged, shivering and coughing violently. He had known that he was catching a chill on the way home, but he had ignored the signs and his determination had kept his body sheathed in a cocoon of obstinacy. Philip’s revelation about the truth behind Amyntor’s death had delivered the final blow and the misery and sickness were rapidly advancing on him.
Hephaistion staggered to the barrack accommodations and, with great difficulty, he managed to strip his wet clothes and crawled under the blankets. The tremors refused to subside and soon his teeth were clattering and he was sweating with the effort to control the shudders. He was aware of fire spreading in his chest and he welcomed the fever, thinking that it would warm him up. He was mistaken. For what seemed like hours, he continued to shiver until he was sick again, but could do nothing but heave dryly; his stomach was empty. Amid half-conscious thought, he became aware that he was scared. He had never felt so sick in his entire life and he recognized enough of the symptoms to realize that the chill he had caught had turned into dire chest trouble.
Visions of his father, swathed in red firelight swam through his mind. Amyntor smiled at him, arms outstretched as if to welcome his son and spoke something that Hephaistion could not discern. He strained towards the man, desperately trying to reach far enough to touch him, but his arms were leaden and would not listen to him. Firelight and Amyntor dissipated quickly into darkness and in his mind, Hephaistion screamed for their loss.
Then he heard a shy susurration, like the clear, sweet water of the river at Mieza. Fascinated, Hephaistion pricked his ears: it sang to him. It sang with words and light and finally, like lines of sunlight through the trees, he saw a golden head. The voice of the river came closer and the sun wrapped him in its shielding heat. Gone were the shivers as arms circled around his back and a hot body suffused its heat through Hephaistion’s warmth-starved frame.
The Sun-god still sang to him, and he smelled of apples and grass and sun-warmed linen. It breathed into his ear, every word rolling off the sweet tongue smelting the very last corners of Hephaistion’s frozen body and he wanted to die from rapture and warmth and liquid fire.
‘Stay with me…. Don’t let me die alone…’ Hephaistion pleaded for he was sure that no mortal could face the ecstasy of the singing sun and live to tell the tale.
His eyelids dipped and his body relaxed, comfortable and oblivious in the fiery embrace.
‘Alexander…’ he whispered drowsily and let himself float away.