The Persian Boy (11 page)

“But I haven’t the rank to go up to him in public.” This would have been true even when I was in favor. “It must be your general; no one less.”

“Patron? The King hardly knows his face.” He spoke not without bitterness.

“I know. But he must.” None too soon, I had started thinking. “The King can speak Greek. Some of us do in the Household. But Bessos always asks for the interpreter; so does Nabarzanes. If they’re listening, Patron can still warn the King.”

“That’s worth knowing. I’ll tell him that. We’re a handful to the Baktrians; but if the King trusts us, we might still get him away.”

I ?soon overtook the Household; it had not gone a quarter-mile. The Sun Chariot had been lost at Gaugamela; but two Magi with the altar still walked, in front. Behind that, all order was falling apart, all precedence shattered. Men of both kinds were edging each other to get near the King. Boubakes was riding just behind his chariot, a thing unheard of. At his side, on a great Nisaian charger as heavy-boned as a bull, rode Bessos himself.

I fell in by Boubakes. He looked at me with dull sleepless eyes, as if to say, “After all, what matter?” We were too near the King to talk.

The shaded litter was left behind at Arbela; those days were gone. He would be tired, after all day in a chariot. Something I felt for him still, beyond mere duty. I remembered him playful, kindly, amused, and in the follies of pleasure. He knew himself despised. Perhaps he had known it when he struck me.

The King was the King; he could not have believed this sacred state could be altered, except by death. Disaster after disaster, failure on failure, shame on shame; friend after friend turned traitor; his troops, to whom he should have been as a god, creeping off like thieves every night; Alexander approaching, the dreaded enemy; and, still unknown, the real peril at his elbow. And to trust in, whom? We few, who for the use of kings had been made into less than men; and two thousand soldiers serving for hire, still loyal not for love of him, but to keep their pride.

As we marched, the road rising through bare uplands, I suppose there was no one in the Household who was not thinking, And what will become of me? We were only human. Boubakes thought, perhaps, of want, or a dreary life in some low-rank harem. But I had only one skill, I had only known one employment.

I remembered slavery in Susa. I was no longer too young to find the means of dying. But I wished to live.

The road climbed higher. We were coming to the pass. Here was the barrier range of the Tapourians, great peaks, barren and harsh, so high that in summer they were still tipped with snow. Up the foothills wriggled our worm of road, and vanished in a cleft. In spite of all, my heart quickened. Beyond must be the sea, which I had never seen.

At each higher turn, rose a new wall of stark stone, weather-scoured, no living thing but a few cypresses bent like cripples. Here and there by a stream were poor fields and huts, whose wild people fled like rock-rabbits. But the air was like crystal. Ahead, plunging in shadow, was the steep gorge of the Gates.

Alexandria is a splendid city, with everything a sensible man can need. I daresay I shall end my life here, without ever again going far away. But when I remember the high hills, and a pass mounting to its unknown revelation, I will not think so. Even then, knowing the evil and the danger, knowing all I had known before, even then I felt it; ecstasy, prophecy, light.

A sheer cliff close above, a sheer drop below, far down the roar of water; we were in the Gates. Even so high, the rock-wall flung back the heat and the column labored. Surely, this pass could have been held. Just ahead, Bessos on his great horse still rode beside the King. No sign of Patron. Why should he heed my message, second-hand, and from the King’s minion at that?

The road flattened and opened. We were at the pass-head; Hyrkania lay below us. It was another country. The mountains were clothed with forests, green fold after green fold. Then a narrow plain; and beyond, the sea.

From this height, the horizon stretched immense round its sheet of silver. I caught my breath with delight. The black shores puzzled me; I did not know they were covered with flocks of cormorants, millions and millions, fed by its endless shoals of fish.

The Tapourian range is a great parting of the waters. Truly, it was to be so for me.

Soon we were winding down among the trees. Streams plashed and trickled over red-stained boulders; the water was delicious, very cold with a tang of iron. We made halt in a pine grove, setting cushions for the King, and s?eeing to his retiring-tent.

When we set off again, the air grew closer and moister, tall trees held off the breezes that had tingled on the pass. We had halted late, because of its bleakness; now in the deep groves already the shadows darkened. Looking about, I was aware of someone new, riding just behind me. It was Patron.

He was a veteran. He had not labored his horse up hill when the going would soon be easier. I caught his eye, and fell back to give him my place. He dismounted, and led his horse; in sign of respect, or to be noticed. His eyes never left the King.

It was Bessos who saw first. His back stiffened; he came nearer the King, and started some kind of talk with him. Patron plodded along behind.

The road bent sharply. As the chariot turned, the King saw him, and showed surprise. No one should stare at the Great King’s face, but Patron fixed his eyes on it. He made no gesture; just looked.

The King spoke to Boubakes, who fell back, and said to Patron, “His Majesty asks if there is anything you want of him.”

“Yes. Tell His Majesty I would like a word, without interpreters. Say it is not for myself, but in his service. Without interpreters.”

Boubakes, his face changed, repeated the message. The chariot had its drags on for the slope, and was moving slowly. The King beckoned Patron up. I took his bridle, and led his horse for him.

He stepped up to the chariot, the other side from Bessos. His voice was low, I did not hear what he said; but Bessos could have heard it. Patron had taken the risk, on my bare word.

Soon he must have seen, from Bessos’ look of baffled anger, that I’d not misled him. His voice grew louder, “My lord King, pitch your tent in our camp tonight. We have served you a long time. If you ever trusted us, believe me, you need to now.”

The King was quite quiet. His countenance hardly altered. I was the better for his fortitude; one needs some pride in one’s master. “Why do you say this?” He spoke haltingly; his Greek was no better than mine. “What do you fear for me?”

“Sire-it is your cavalry commander, and that one there beside you. You see why I can’t speak names.”

“Yes,” said the King. “Go on.”

“Sire, they lied this morning. It will be tonight.”

The King said, “If it is ordained, so it will be.”

I understood his quiet. My heart sank like a stone. He had despaired.

Patron came nearer, leaning to the chariot. He was an old soldier, he knew what he had heard. He put out his strength, as if to hearten a flagging battle-line. “You come over to us, sire. What men can do, every one of us will do it. Look at all this woodland. When night comes, we’ll get you away.”

“To what, my friend?” With despair, he had recovered dignity. “I live too long already, if my own people wish me dead.” I don’t know what he read in Patron’s face, which I could not see. “Be assured, I trust you. But if what you say is true, you are outnumbered ten to one, you and the faithful Persians. I will not buy a few hours more of breath, at the cost of all your lives; that would be poor thanks to you. Go back to your men; and tell them that I value them.”

He saluted, and fell back behind the chariot. As he took back his horse, his eye said, “Well done, boy. No fault of yours.” I turned to look at Bessos.

Dark blood engorged his dark face. He looked like a demon. He could not tell what Patron had revealed. For one moment I thought he would draw his sword upon the King, and butcher him out of hand. However, a dead king was spoiled merchandise. He took time to master himself; then he said to Darius, “That man means treachery. No need to know his tongue, it was in his face.” He paused, hoping to draw some answer; but the King was silent. “The scum of the earth. No stake in any country, on sale to the highest bidder. Alexander must have outbid you.”

Even from a kinsman, this was insolence. The King said only, “I trust not. His suit was refused in any case.”

“Sire, I am happy for it. I hope you trust my good faith as you did this morning; may the gods witne?ss it.”

The King said, “May they be my witnesses also.”

“Then I am happier still.”

“But if Patron is the man you think, he will be foolish to count upon Alexander. He rewards surrender; but he is very harsh to treachery.”

Bessos looked sidelong under his black brows, and said no more. We wound downhill through the darkling forests. The high peaks, where we could glimpse them, still glittered golden. Here it would soon be night.

We made camp in a broad open glade. Long fading bars of red sunlight crossed it. It felt close and hot. I daresay at sunrise it would have looked delightful. None of us saw the sun rise on it, so I cannot say.

There was a village somewhere near. The Persian soldiers went off to forage in the usual way. When they were gone into the trees, the place was still full of men. The Baktrians had all remained, and were building watch-fires. They were still all under arms. We knew what it meant. It was like the last turn in a long fever.

Oxathres came to the King, and said that when the loyal Persians came back, they would make a fight of it. The King, embracing him, told him to do nothing without orders. He was a brave soldier, but none of that kin had the makings of a general. Patron could have done more with two thousand men than he with twenty thousand; I daresay the King knew it. When he had gone, he sent for Artabazos.

I found him, a little stiff from his ride but still alert. As I led him to the King, I saw the Greek camp by itself among the trees. They were still all armed, and had set outposts.

Round the royal tent stood the Royal Bodyguard; there were still some Immortals left, armed with their spears of honor. The gold pomegranates caught the firelight; and their eyes, staring somberly before them.

From within, we heard the King give Artabazos Patron’s news. He was some time silent, thinking no doubt of his long night’s labors. Then he besought the King to make camp among the Greeks; the Persians, for whom he himself would answer, would rally in strength to the Greeks, if the King were with them. I was thinking, Poor good old man, you have lived too long for your peace, when he added briskly, “These Greeks are soldiers by trade. The Baktrians are only called out on levy. I saw discipline in Macedon. The difference between a blood-horse and an ox. Trust to the Greeks.”

How often we had listened like this from mere curiosity, or to be abreast of some small intrigue. We listened now for our lives.

“It is finished,” said the King. “All my life I have hoped too willingly. Lately it has cost too much, to too many men. Now I have put hope away, do not wish it back to me.”

There was a smothered sound. It was Artabazos weeping.

“Dear friend,” said the King, “you have lost many years with me. The rest are yours; go with the Wise God’s blessing.”

The weeping went on. The King raised his voice and called to us. Artabazos was clinging to him, small against his height, the old face buried in his robe. He embraced him, saying, “This faithful servant will not lay down his charge; but I have released him. Lead him away.”

He loosed the old man’s hands, which clung like a child’s; it took all of us to ease him out without roughness. The King hid his face from it. We saw Artabazos to his people; when we returned, and looked for the King, at first we did not see him. He lay prone on the ground, his head upon his arms.

One thought was in all our minds. But no weapon was near him, his shoulders moved with his breath. He lay like the run-down hare, coursed to its limit, awaiting the hounds or spear.

He had not dismissed us. We did not know what to do, but gazed at this painful sight in silence, feeling our own despair. After a while, a thought came to me; I fetched his sword from within, and laid it on the table where he could find it easily. Boubakes saw what I was about, but looked aside.

For my master, I had done this last thing. I could not feel, There lies the one who was my lover. I was in his service, and had served as I was called to do?. He was the King.

After a while he moved his head, and gave us leave to go.

Our sleeping-tent had been half put up and left; one end sagging from a loose pole, the other end on the ground. No slaves were to be seen: From all around came a discord of quarreling, arguing, orders shouted in vain. It was no longer an army, only a great confused crowd of tribes and factions. For a while we sat together on the slack tent-hides, whispering. Then I looked up and said, “The Bodyguard has gone.”

I went to make sure. Nothing, not so much as one gold-hafted spear. The Immortals had put off their immortality. We were alone.

After a time of silence, I said, “I think he spoke. I’ll see if he wants anything.”

He was lying as before. I stepped up softly, and knelt by him. I had heard nothing; but old days had come back to me. The very perfume I was wearing had been his gift. When all was said, I was not just like the others.

He lay, his head on one arm, the other flung forward. I dared not take his hand unbidden. He was the King.

He moved, aware of me, and said, “Send me Boubakes.”

“Yes, sire.” I was someone to take a message. He had forgotten.

Boubakes went in. Suddenly he gave a great wail, such as is only heard at a death. All three of us ran inside. The sword still lay on the table, the King upon the ground. Boubakes knelt there, beating his breast, tearing his hair and clothes. We cried, “What is it?” as if the King had not been there. All things we knew were breaking.

Boubakes sobbed, “His Majesty bids us go.”

The King leaned up on one arm. “You have all done your duty well. You can do no more for me. I acquit you of your service. Save yourselves while you can. This is my last command to you; you will all obey it.”