TO 3 - Firstborn by Arthur C. Clarke & Stephen Baxter

Author:Arthur C. Clarke & Stephen Baxter [Clarke, Arthur C. & Baxter, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Space Opera, Space and time, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, General
ISBN: 9780345491589
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2008-10-28T20:58:27+00:00

A troop of soldiers entered the room, sarissae held high. Following them came a grotesque figure in a transparent toga, stick-thin, trembling a little, his brilliantly painted face twisted into a grin. Bisesa remembered: this was Bagoas, a Persian eunuch and favorite of Alexander’s.

“No longer so pretty as he was,” Eumenes said sternly. “And yet he survives, as I do.” He raised his wine cup in mock salute.

And then came the King himself. He was surrounded by a group of tough-looking young men in expensive purple robes.

Waddling as if already drunk, he staggered and might have fallen if not for the way he leaned on a stocky little page who walked beside him. He wore lurid purple robes, and a headdress of ram’s horns rising from a circlet of gold. His face was a memory of the beauty that Bisesa remembered, with that full mouth, and a strong nose that rose straight to a slightly bulging forehead, from which his hair in ringlets had been swept back. His skin, always ruddy, was blotchy and scarred, his cheeks and jowls heavy, and his powerful frame swaddled in fat. Bisesa felt shocked at the change in him.

The courtiers threw themselves to the floor in obeisance. The soldiers and some of the senior figures stood their ground, gesturing elaborately. The little page who supported him was a Neanderthal boy, his brutish face shining with cream, the thick hair on his head twisted into tight curls. And as the King passed her, Bisesa smelled a stink of piss.

“Thus the ruler of the world,” Emeline whispered as he passed, sounding rather nineteenth-century frosty to Bisesa.

“But so he is,” Grove said.

“He had no choice but to conquer the world again,” Eumenes murmured. “Alexander believes he is a god—the son of Zeus incarnated at Ammon, which is why he wears the robes of Ammon, and the horns. But he was born a man, and only achieved godhood by his conquests. After the Discontinuity all that was wiped away, and so what was Alexander then? It was not to be tolerated. So he began it all over again; he had to.”

Bisesa said, “But it isn’t as it was before. You say there are steam trains here. Maybe this is a new start for civilization. A unified empire, under Alexander and his successors, fueled by technology.”

Grove smiled, wistful. “Do you remember poor old Ruddy Kipling used to say the same sort of thing?”

“I do not think Alexander shares your ‘modern’ dreams,” Eumenes said. “Why should he? There are more of us than you, far more; perhaps our beliefs, overwhelming yours, will shape reality.”

“According to my history books,” Emeline said a bit primly, “in the old world Alexander died in his thirties. It’s an un-Christian thing to say. But maybe it would have been better if he had died here, instead of living on and on.”

“Certainly his son thought so,” Eumenes said dryly. “And that is why—look out!” He pulled Bisesa back.

A squad of soldiers came charging past, their long sarissae lowered.

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