Storms over Babylon by Jennifer Macaire

Author:Jennifer Macaire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2018-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Four days after Alexander’s arrival he came to see me. I was impatient, nearly out of my mind with worry and cross with everyone, even snapping at Chiron.

It was Chiron’s birthday; Alexander used that excuse to come to see me. He gave him a wooden chariot with wheels that turned, pulled by two articulated horses.

The gifts Roxanne sent were burned. Axiom didn’t even bother showing them to me; he knew by now what to look for. Roxanne’s slave had given the gifts to Millis, and Axiom had snatched them right out of his hands and tossed them into the fire. Poor Millis didn’t know what to think. He was unhappy with all the secretive undercurrents but I wouldn’t tell him what was happening. I was still unsure of his loyalties. I was making him miserable, but it couldn’t be helped. I was unhappy too, I hated living in the women’s quarters, hated having to watch out for poison every moment, and I was frightened for my son.

When Alexander came to see me I burst into tears and threw myself into his arms.

‘I can’t live like this,’ I sobbed. ‘I’m so unhappy. Take me away from here, please.’

‘Ashley!’ He was shocked. ‘You’re so thin!’

‘I can’t eat. There’s poison everywhere. I’m afraid for Chiron, and I’m afraid for you, and for Plexis.’

‘What will happen to him? Do you know now?’

‘I think so. Bagoas means to poison him.’

Alexander stiffened. ‘Bagoas? That can’t be!’

‘It is true.’ I dried my tears. ‘I heard it from a reliable source.’

Alexander went very pale. The colour left his cheeks and he sat down suddenly. ‘Bagoas? Poison? How?’ His voice was strained.

‘I have no idea,’ I told him. ‘But maybe we can kill Bagoas.’

‘But, Ashley, if Hephaestion does not die you will be destroyed by your time gods.’

‘They’re not gods,’ I said, suddenly angry.

‘We can do nothing.’

‘We can pretend he really did die,’ I told him.

‘Pretend? How?’

‘Listen.’ I told him the plan I’d formulated. There was a deep silence after I finished speaking that seemed to shake the walls. Or maybe it was just my pounding heart.

‘Are you sure that will work?’ he asked.

‘It has to.’

‘By the gods,’ he said suddenly. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He wore a blank, stunned look. ‘In three weeks, you say?’

‘If I remember my ancient history right.’

He leaned over and put his head between his knees. ‘Your ancient history is my future. I feel ill.’

‘I’ve felt like that for a year now,’ I told him. ‘If you don’t help me, I’ll go mad. And please believe me, I could never spend my life as a Persian princess. I feel like I’m in prison. I miss being in the tent with you and seeing the sun rising in a different place nearly every morning. I’m like a bird that has been born in the wild and suddenly finds itself with its wings clipped in a cage.’

‘A golden cage, but a cage just the same.’

‘Even you will always be nothing but a tiger in chains if you stay.

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