I pictured such a person as Kleitos insulting the King at Susa, if such a thing could be conceived. The King would just have motioned with a finger, and the proper people would have appeared. The man would have been taken off with a hand over his mouth; the feast would have proceeded decently; and next day, when the King had rested, he would have decreed the mode of death. It would all have been quiet and seemly. The King would have done no more than move his hand.
I thought, He knows he forgot his dignity, before Greeks and even Persians. He feels he has lost esteem. He needs comfort, and to be reminded of his greatness. In all this trouble, he should not be alone.
In the dead hour after midnight, I went along to his room. The squire on duty looked at me, unmoving. From outside, I could hear the high whining of Peritas, and knew he must be weeping. "Let me in," I said. "The King needs attendance."
"Not your kind. Nor any other. Those are my orders."
This youth, Hermolaos, had never left me in doubt of what he thought about eunuchs. He was glad to keep me out; he had no feeling for his master's grief. The sound tore at my heart; I could hear it now. "You have no right," I said. "You know I have the entry." He just held his spear across the doorway. Gladly I would have sunk a knife in him. I went back to bed, and did not close my eyes till morning.
When the night guard had changed, between dawn and sunrise, I went again. It was Metron now. I said, "The King will expect me. Nothing at all has been done for him since before supper." He was sensible, and let me in.
He lay face upward, staring at the ceiling beams. The blood on his robe had turned dark brown. He had done nothing for himself, not even pulled on the blanket. His eyes looked fixed like a dead man's.
"Al’skander," I said. Dully his eyes moved, empty of welcome or displeasure. "Al'skander, it's almost morning. You have grieved too long."
I laid my hand on his brow. He let it lie just long enough not to slight me, and turned his head away. "Bagoas. Will you take care of Peritas? He can't stay shut up here."
"Yes, after I've seen to you. When you've taken these things off, and had a bath, you may still get a little sleep."
"Let him run by your horse," he said. "It's good for him."
The dog had. jumped up, and was padding from one to the other of us, full of trouble. He sat down when I told him, but his head still turned about.
I said, "The hot water's coming. Let us get these dirty clothes off." I hoped this would work with him. He hated not to be clean.
"I have told you, I want nothing. Just take the dog and go."
"Oh, my lord!" I cried. "How can you punish yourself for such a fellow? Though the work was beneath you, it was still a good work done."
"You don't know what I have done," he said. "How should you? Don't trouble me now, Bagoas. I want nothing. His leash is in the window."
For a moment he growled at me; but Alexander spoke to him, and he went meekly. There were three jars of hot water standing by the door, and a slave was toiling up the stairs with another. I could only send them back.
Metron moved from the door, and said softly, "Won't he have anything done?"
"No. Only the dog looked after."
"He's taking it hard. It's because he killed a friend."
"A friend?" I must have stared like an idiot. "Do you know what Kleitos said to him?"
"Well, but he was a friend, since they were boys. He'd a name for being rough-spoken . . . You'd not understand, not having lived in Macedon. But haven't you found that friends' quarrels are the bitterest?"
"Are they?" I said, having no knowledge of it; and led the dog away.
After I'd given him his run, I hung about the door all day. I saw food brought in at noon, and sent out un-tasted. Later on, Hephaistion came. I could not hear what he said, because of the guard at the door; but I heard Alexander cry out, "She loved me like a mother, and I give her this." He must have meant his nurse, Kleitos' sister. Hephaistion left soon after. There was nowhere to withdraw to; but when he saw me he said nothing.
The King sent out, untouched, a good hot supper. Next morning, early, I brought an egg posset to put some strength in him. But a different guard was there, and turned me off. He lay fasting all that day.
After that, people of importance started coming, begging him to take some care of himself. Even the philosophers came, to preach at him. To me, it was beyond belief they should send Kallisthenes. I thought quickly and walked in after him. If he could enter, so could I. I wanted to see about the drinking-water; I remembered the pitcher had not had much in it.
It was just as it had been, quarter full. In two days, and with the thirst a man has after wine, he had not even drunk.
I sat down in a corner, too distressed to listen to Kallisthenes. I think he tried, in his way, to be of use, saying the virtue of repentance was next best to leaving the deed undone. To my mind, his mere presence, setting himself up, was an affront; but Alexander listened quietly, and at the end said without anger that he wanted nothing, but to be alone. I remained, as I'd hoped, unnoticed.
But then in came Anaxarchos, and asked why Alexander lay grieving there, when he was master of the world and had the right to do as he chose. Him too the King heard with patience, though in his state even the grasshopper must have been a burden. Then, just as the stupid man was going, he felt moved to add, "Come, let Bagoas here bring you food and make you fit to be seen." So I was noticed, and sent out with the sophist, my trouble all gone for nothing.
The third day came; nothing was changed. The news was all over the camp. The men were not strolling the town, but milling in their quarters, or sitting about before the palace; they kept sending to ask after the King. You could not be long with Macedonians, without guessing they killed each other in drinking-brawls pretty often; it had taken them some time to be anxious for him. But they knew that what he willed, he did; and they began to fear that he willed to die.
I had lain fearing it half the night.
I was glad to see Philippos the doctor go in. Though it was before my time, I knew the story of how the King, when very sick, had trusted him enough to take his draught, though Parmenion had just written that Darius had bribed the man to poison him. He'd handed him the letter to read, and meantime swallowed the medicine. But he came out, now, shaking his head.
I must get in, I thought; and I brought two gold staters, to bribe the guard. If he'd asked for a jar of my blood, I would have given that.
As I went to speak to him, the door opened, and Hephaistion came out. I stood aside. "Bagoas," he said, "I want a word with you."
He led me down into the open courtyard, away from eavesdroppers; then he said, "I don't want you to see the King today."
Because of his great power, I tried to hide my anger. What if he sent me from my lord? I said, "Is that not for the King to order?"
"True." I saw, surprised, that he too was holding back; what had he to fear from me? "If he asks for you, no one will keep you out. But stay away till he does."
It shocked me. I had thought better of him. I answered, "He is killing himself like this. If he is saved, do you care who saves him? I do not care."
"No," he said slowly, looking down from his tall height. "No, I daresay." He still spoke as if to a tiresome child, but one he had half forgiven. "I doubt he will kill himself. He will remember his destiny. He has great endurance, as you'd know if you'd soldiered with him. He can stand a great deal of punishment."
"Not without water," I said.
"What?" he said sharply. "He has water there, I saw it"
"It is just as it was when you fetched me out the first night." I added, "I concern myself with these things, when I am allowed."
Still he held back. "Yes, he must take water. I will try to make him."
"But not I?" I regretted, now, not having poisoned him at Zadrakarta.
"No. Because you will go in there and tell him the Great King can do anything."
What I had meant to say was different, and no business of his. I answered, "So he can. The King is the law."
"Yes," he said. "I knew you would tell him that."
"Why not? Who will give him respect, if traitors can spit in his face? At Susa, a man like Kleitos would have prayed for the death he got."
"I don't doubt it," he said. I thought of Philotas' screams, but did not remind him. I only said, "Of course, if the King had been himself, he would not have soiled his hands with it. He knows that now."
He took a deep breath, as if restraining himself from clouting my head. "Bagoas," he said slowly, "I know the Great King can do anything. Alexander knows it too. But he also knows he is King of the Macedonians, who can't do everything. He cannot kill a Macedonian, with his own hand or anyone else's, unless Assembly has voted. This he forgot."
I remembered him, then, saying, "You don't know what I have done."
"It is not our custom," I said, "to bring in the wine so early. Think how he was insulted and defied."
"I know all about that. I knew his father . . . But that's no matter. He broke the first law of Macedon. And he was not master of himself. That's what he can't forget."
"But," I cried, "he must forgive himself. He must, or he will die."
"Of course he must. Do you know what the Macedonians are doing now? They are calling an Assembly, to try Kleitos for treason. They'll convict him, and then his death will be legal. It was the men who wanted it. They are doing it to make Alexander forgive himself."
"But," I said staring, "don't you want that too?"
"Yes," He spoke as if I might not understand Greek. "Yes, but I am concerned with the terms on which he does it."
I replied, "I am concerned only for him."
Suddenly he shouted at me, as if at some awkward soldier. "You fool of a boy! Will you listen to sense?" It winded me like a blow, after his quiet.
"Have you noticed," he said, standing over me with his fists upon his belt, "that Alexander likes his men to love him? Yes or no? Well, his men are Macedonians. If you don't know what that means by now, you must be deaf and blind. In Macedon, any freeman can speak man to man with his chief; chief or freeman can speak to the King. And I tell you this; they can much better understand what Alexander did to Kleitos in the heat of anger, which might have happened to any one of them, than they'd understand an execution in cold blood next day. That would have threatened all their freemen's rights, and they'd have loved him less. If you love him, never tell him he is above the law."
His earnestness transformed him. I said, "Anaxarchos told him that."
"Oh, Anaxarchos!" He shrugged. "But he might listen to you."
He had owned it. It could not have been easy. I owed him some return.
"I understand you. I see that you must know best. I won't say those things to him; I promise. May I see him now?"
"Not now. It's not that I doubt your word; but at present, he's better among Macedonians."
He went away. He had taken my promise, and given nothing back. I had never craved for power, as some eunuchs do; only for love. Now I understood what power is good for. He had it. If I had had it, someone would have let me in.
All that long day, I kept going to ask the guard if the King had eaten or drunk. The answer always was that he'd said he wanted nothing.
The soldiers had tried Kleitos, and pronounced him a traitor, justly put to death. Surely he would take heart from this proof of love? But not even this had moved him. Could it really be true he felt that he'd killed a friend? I remembered the bad omen of the sheep, and his sacrifice for Kleitos' safety. He had asked him to come and share the good apples, too.
The sun rose to its zenith; the sun declined. How many suns more?
I kept to my room till the night was late, lest Hephaistion should see me. When all was quiet, I took a pitcher of fresh spring water, and a clean cup. All would depend on who was the night-guard squire before the door. God was kind to me. It was Ismenios. He had always treated me well; and he loved the King.
"Yes, go in," he said. "I don't care if he curses me after. I went in myself, when I came on guard. But he was asleep; I didn't dare wake him."
My heart nearly ceased its motion. "Asleep? Did you hear him breathing?"
"Oh, yes. But he looks half dead. Go in and try."
The door made no noise. It was dark; he had put out the night-lamp. After the torch outside, at first I could only discern the glimmering windows. But there was a moon, and soon I saw him clearly. He was still asleep.
Someone had put a blanket on him, but it was tossed half off. He was still in his bloodstained robe. His hair was matted, his skin drawn. Fair though it was, his beard had begun to show. A filled pitcher stood untouched by him. His lips were cracked and dry; in his sleep he was trying to wet them with his tongue.
I filled my cup. Sitting by him, I dipped two fingers, and trickled the water on his mouth. He licked at it like a dog, still sleeping. I went on till I saw him start to wake; then I took his head on my arm, and tilted the cup gently. He drank, and gave a great sigh, and drank again. I refilled it, and he drank that too.
I stroked his hair and brow, and he did not draw away. I did not beg him to come back to us; he'd had enough of that. I said, "Don't shut me out any longer. It is breaking my heart."
"Poor Bagoas." He laid a cold hand on mine. "You can come in tomorrow."
I kissed his hand. He had broken his fast before he knew it; he would end it now. Yes, now, I thought; not with officious fools around him, urging him on like a fractious child.
