Chapter Text
Pella, 319 BC
They gazed at each other in the palace courtyard under the Macedonian sky. A mother without her son. A wife without her husband. They had wondered about this moment for eight years.
The younger woman lowered her eyes. She wore a simple white peplos for this occasion with a crimson cloak. Her slender figure was almost childlike, her lustrous dark hair combed carefully behind her ears with a purple saffron on one side. Roxana knelt down and bowed her head. “Joy to you, lady Mother.” She wasn't sure this was the appropriate address, yet could think of no other.
Olympias had grown stout around her waist in recent years, which gave her a more regal look. Her back was straight, her head held high, her flaxen grey hair tied to a bun and covered with a bright blue Persian silk scarf; sapphire earrings matching her bright eyes. She studied Roxana. “Dear Mother, I’ve met the most beautiful girl. Her eyes shine like morning stars. She sings beautifully. I’m marrying her.” She remembered the fervent letter from her son. She stepped forward and lifted up Roxana. “Welcome to Macedon, dear child.” Roxana looked at the ocean blue eyes - the same as she remembered on a young man years ago - same deep set, same intensity though more reservation.
“This is Alexander son of Alexander. Your grandson, lady Mother.” Roxana put her hand gently on the child next to her, giving him a gentle nudge. “Sweetheart, come greet Grandmama.”
Olympias stooped down and touched the child’s cheek. She wanted to see traces of the golden boy she’d held in her arms decades ago. She didn’t. This child had olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes. Every inch his mother’s son. A beautiful boy. The child stared at her curiously, clutching his mother’s peplos.
“Joy to you, Grandmama”. Perfect Macedonian.
“Welcome home, Alekos.” whispered Olympias with a tight throat. She glanced gratefully at Roxana, who understood it and smiled back.
Inside the palace hall, Roxana blinked to steady her eyes. If not for the mosaic on the floor and the fresco on the wall, she might have thought she was back in Babylon. The silk draperies. The ebony chairs with ivory inlays. The bronze lion stand. The golden wine set. The oil lamps with long beaks decorated with ruby and emerald. Olympias gestured, “Take a seat.” and sat down herself.
A servant girl poured some rose wines for both women and laid a plate of cheese and honeyed dates on the small table between them.
“You’ve traveled far, Roxana. How was the journey?”
“Very well. General Antipatros was most kind.” Roxana saw a slight twitch around Olympias’ mouth. She’d heard about the years of animosity between the two but had no interest taking sides.
“You speak Greek well.”
“Thank you, lady Mother. Alexander, the late King, enjoyed conversations. He was most pleased when I could talk to him.”
“Yes he did.” pondered Olympias. “And your son? Who taught him Macedonian?”
“General Perdikkas had arranged a tutor for him. He said my son was the King of Macedon. He must learn his people’s language.” said Roxana with a tinge of sadness. Perdikkas had been assassinated by his own men the year earlier.
“Yes. He’s also the hegemon of all Greece, Pharoh of Egypt, the great King of Persia. He has much to learn.” said Olympias, watching the child pick up a date. “He likes sweets, just like his father.”
“I hope it doesn’t ruin his appetite. He is very picky with his food. It takes much coaxing to finish his meals. And he’s most stubborn.”
Of course he is, thought Olympias. She watched the child open his full lips and stuffed the date in his little mouth. She felt her stomach churning. Suddenly she was swept over by weariness. “Both of you must be very tired from the long trip. I’ll have you shown to your quarters. We have much time to catch up.”
Sogdia, 327 BC
Roxana sat quietly in front of the mirror, indifferent to all the fuss around her. Her mother was giving out orders to the many maids running to and fro. She had been bathed, oiled, perfumed and dressed, her hair braided. She was adorned with many precious stones and jewelry - gifts from her bridegroom, the new king of kings. It was her wedding day.
For two years the name Alexander had been a cause of panic to her countrymen. Her father Oxyartes would explode in rage at the mere mention of it. Night after night she prayed this barbarian would go away or be killed. God didn’t answer her. The Macedonians grew wings and flew on the rock where her city dwelled. Sogdia fell to the invincible army of Alexander. She feared the worst and waited in dread.
No one came for her. Instead, a celebration banquet was arranged. She was to sing and dance for the victors. There was no arguing for dignity from the defeated. Her mother suggested that she learned a Greek song to placate the conquerors.
"I sing of Dionysos, the son of glorious Semele.
Hail, child of fair-faced Semele!
He who forgets you can in no wise order sweet song."
Standing in the middle of the banquet hall, she started singing. Bawdy laughters stopped. The room grew quite. An intense glare fell on her from the young man sitting in the middle. He didn’t have horns as she’d heard, though he was still a strange sight. His face was pink and beardless. How scandalous for a grown man, she thought. His eyes glistened, almost colorless under the flickering torches. He smiled at her. Roxana's heart leapt.
The next day she was informed that she was to marry the new king. Roxana was almost sixteen. Oxyartes had not had much time to consider what most advantageous marriages Roxana could bring him. When Alexander made the proposition he could hardly believe his good fortune! Being the father-in-law of the great King! Imagine all the riches and prestige the snooty Persians would never bestow on him. He must have pleased God.
“Lady Roxana, it is time.” Roxana looked at her mother, who nodded assuringly.
“May God give you a kind husband and many sons.” She kissed her mother, took a deep breath and followed the servants.
“To the bride!” thunderous cheers in the banquet hall. Most of the Macedonian guests were already drunk. Their eyes landed hungrily on her - half couldn’t hide their distaste, as if she was some unbecoming sight; the other half full of lust stripping her with their stares. All the men but one.
Hephaistion sat next to Oxyartes, who still hadn't mastered the Greek recline at banquets. He’d downed several drinks with the old man already, celebrating their new found friendship. Enough respect was paid to the King’s new father-in-law, but make no mistakes who had the command in this encounter. Hephaistion's gaze laid warily on Alexander, who sat with his new bride in the middle of the hall beaming with joy as he accepted all the well wishes from his men.
Hephaistion felt tired, sipping his wine lazily. He had been talking to the high ranks for days, one by one, trying to convince them this marriage was a politically shrewd necessity.
It’d help us get out of this shit hole.
Aren’t you tired of the fucking guerrilla fights?
We will move to India for the riches. Let Oxyartes deal with the dumbass rocks here.
Somewhere deep down though, Hephaistion wondered if he was trying to convince himself. He knew Alexander, probably better than Alexander knew himself. He had been there when Alexander set his eyes on Roxana. He knew the look of desire. It was the same look when Alexander hunted lions, or sieged cities, or conquered new people. Whatever Alexander had, he would want more. “You only add, never subtract.” joked Hephaistion once. “Give your little math brain a rest, will you?” was Alexander’s response, knowing full well it was true.
He took another sip and met Alexander’s eyes. There was a touch of concern. He offered an encouraging smile; Alexander smiled back with relief. All was well, yet Hephaistion felt his heart stung. He didn’t want comradery or magnanimity or reassurance. He wanted Alexander. He wanted to go back in time to Mieza when they had no one but the other. But even back then, he had known Alexander strived for greatness. His ambitions had no bound, and Hephaistion loved him for that - Alexander pushing himself and everyone else to do the unimaginable. It was thrilling. He would have no other. Then of course, the King must be generous and loving to all men; he must exercise the kingly privileges; he needed to earn loyalty and inspire awe. Hephaistion had to share Alexander. He hadn't minded when Alexander took others to his bed. But a wife was different. She was here to stay. They would have children - something he would never share with Alexander.
Hephaistion sighed at this thought. He had just read the latest letter from Olympias. The usual - Antipatros was probably conspiring behind her back; the latest batch of Persian golden dishes was beautiful; Kleopatra was managing splendidly in her husband’s stead. Always the same ending, “My dearest son, bear in heart your royal duty.” A king’s duty to his people; a son’s duty to his mother - you must beget heirs. Maybe she will be satisfied now and leave me alone, Hephaistion snorted.
An arm was slung over his shoulders. “Don't look so gloomy my friend.” Oxyartes’ drunken breath blown on his face. Hephaistion looked at him calmly, not offering any emotions. “Come on, I know you Macedonians. Should I send someone to occupy your bed tonight? May not be a virgin but pleasing all the same …”
Hephaistion smiled diplomatically. “Nothing pleases me more than your cavalry, my Lord. Cheers to the King and your beautiful daughter.”
Roaring cheers across the room. Alexander had just broken the bread: one half for the groom and the other for the bride. The marriage was sealed; time for the bridal couple to retire. Hephaistion took one more look at Alexander, radiant, youthful, flushed with joy, the golden boy he fell in love with years ago. Suddenly he was swelled with love and felt almost ashamed of his selfish thoughts earlier. There had been much treachery in the past two years - Philotas, Callisthenes, the pages, Kleitos. The man who never flinched at any physical wounds could so easily succumb to grief caused by disloyalty. He would give up anything to have his carefree Alexander back. It was enough to just see him happy. Their eyes met again.
May she love and adore you and give you many sons.
****
“Tell me, dear daughter, is the King treating you well?” Roxana's mother sat next to her, holding her hands, searching her eyes anxiously.
“Yes mother. He is very kind.” blushed Roxana. Alexander wasn't rough. She was grateful for that. And he showered her with gifts.
Her mother was relieved but still searching. “Is he, the King, pleased with you?”
Roxana's blush deepened. “I think so. I hope so. Mother, he never spent the night here.”
“Ah, you needn't worry. He was seen leaving your chamber so I sent my women to find out why. They said he didn’t sleep anywhere but his own bed fearing some may attempt for his life. Have you missed your course?”
“Mother!” cried Roxana. “No. We didn't always… It was strange… Sometimes I think he's more interested in my singing or conversations. It's rather awkward with the interpreter there.” Roxana lowered her head. A look of concern on her mother's face.
“Roxana dear, you must try harder to win his heart. Give him a son. Then you will be safe when he takes more wives.”
Roxana looked up startled.
“Why, child, you do know the great King will have many wives and concubines. But if you give him a son, he won't replace you. Your son will be the oldest. He could be the next king some day.”
Roxana pondered on her mother's words. She would need try harder but wasn't sure how. Maybe she would learn more songs in Greek.
A few months later, Roxana kissed her mother farewell. She left with the Macedonian army to India.