Philotas saw the King's eyes upon him. . and shivered. 'Parmenion is no traitor,' he answered without hesitation.
'Then you are also against me? So be it. Take his weapons. Tomorrow he shall answer for his betrayal before his comrades.'
Craterus and Ptolemy had marched Philotas to the dungeons below the palace. They had walked in silence until Ptolemy reached out to pull shut the cell door.
'Ptolemy!'
'Yes, Philo?'
'I wish to send a message to my father.'
'I can't. The King would kill me.'
'I understand.'
The room was small, windowless and dark as pitch with the door bolted. Philotas felt his way to the pallet bed and stretched out upon it.
Nicci and Hector were both gone now, and tomorrow the last son of the Lion of Macedon would join them. 'I wish I'd known you better, Father,' said Philo, his voice quavering.
Despite his fears Philo slept, and was awakened by the sound of the bolts being drawn back on the door. A shaft of light filled the cell and the Macedonian blinked as armed men pushed their way inside.
'Up, traitor!' ordered a soldier, seizing Philo's arm and hauling him from the bed. He was pushed out into the corridor and marched back to the throne-room where his fellow officers waited in judgement.
Alexander's voice echoed in the vast hall, shrill and strident, his face flushed crimson. 'Philotas and his father owe everything to me — and how do they repay me? They plot and they plan to supplant me. What is the penalty for such treachery?'
'Death!' cried the officers. Philotas smiled. Only a few days ago his had been one of the voices shouting for the death of Theoparlis.
Slowly Philo rose to his feet, all eyes turning to him.
'What do you say, prisoner, before sentence is carried out?' asked Alexander.
'What would you have me say?' responded Philo, his voice steady, his gaze locked to the unnaturally pale eyes of the King.
'Do you wish to deny your villainy, or to plead for mercy?'
Philo laughed then. 'There is not one man in this room save you who believes that Parmenion would ever plot against you. For myself I have nothing to offer by way of defence. For if a man as loyal as Theoparlis could be found guilty, then what chance does Philotas have? I have followed you and fought battles alongside you — battles that my father won for you. My two brothers died to ensure you would sit upon that throne. I should have no need to defend myself.
But let it be clearly understood by all present that Parmenion is no traitor. You ordered him to take a city — and he took it. Then you ordered that every man, woman and child in that city should be put to death as an example to other rebels. That he would not do. Nor would any other decent Greek. Only a madman would order such an atrocity.'
'Condemned out of his own mouth!' roared Alexander, rising from the throne and advancing down the room. 'By all the gods, I'll kill you myself.'
'As you killed Cleitus?' Philotas shouted.
Alexander's dagger swept towards Philo's throat, but the Macedonian swayed to his right, the blade slashing past his face. Instinctively he struck out with his left fist, which cannoned against Alexander's chin. The King fell back, the dagger falling from his hands. Philo swept it up and leapt upon him, bearing him to the marble floor. Alexander's head cracked against the stone. The point of the dagger in Philo's hand touched the skin of Alexander's neck, and Philo bunched his muscles for the final thrust.
Alexander's eyes changed colour, swirling back to the sea-green Philo remembered from the past.
'What is happening, Philo?' whispered the King, his voice soft. Philo hesitated. . then a spear rammed through his unprotected back, ripping into his lungs and heart. He reared up, and a second guard drove his blade into the dying man's chest.
Blood gushed from Philo's mouth and he slumped to the floor beside the semi-conscious Alexander. The King rose shakily, then backed away from the corpse. 'Where is Hephaistion? I need Hephaistion!' he cried.
Craterus moved alongside him. 'He is gone, sire, to Rhodes, to fetch the Lady Aida.'
'Rhodes?'
'Let me take you back to your rooms, sire.'
'Yes. . yes. Where is Parmenion?'
'In Elam, sire. But do not concern yourself. He will be dead by tomorrow. I sent three of our finest swordsmen.'
Alexander groaned, but for a moment he said nothing. He could feel the Dark God fighting back inside him, storming the bastions of his mind. Yet he held on and drew in a deep breath. 'Get me to the stables,' he ordered Craterus.
'The stables? Why, sire?'
'I need to stop them, Craterus.'
'You cannot ride out alone. You have enemies everywhere.'
The King looked up into the earnest young man's eyes. 'I am not insane, Craterus. But there is… a demon inside me.
You understand?'
'A demon, sire, yes. Come and rest. I will send for the surgeon.'
'You don't believe me? No, but then why should you? Leave me!'
Alexander pushed Craterus away and ran down the long corridor, emerging into the bright sunshine of the courtyard.
Two sentries snapped to attention, but he ignored them and continued to run along the tree-lined road to the royal stables.
Bucephalus was in the eastern paddock and his great head lifted as he saw the King. 'Come to me!' called Alexander.
The black stallion trotted to the fence and Alexander opened the gate, took hold of the black mane and swung himself to Bucephalus' back.
There were shouts from the west and the King turned to see Craterus and several of the officers running after him.
Alexander kicked Bucephalus into a run and rode for the south-east, through the royal park and out on to the road to Elam. The city was some sixty miles away on the coast, the road petering out into rocky tracks and high hills.
There were robbers in the hills, savage tribesmen who looted many of the trade caravans from the east, but Alexander did not think of them as he rode. Instead he pictured the Spartan, remembering his gallantry in the lands of the Enchantment and his quiet counsel in the years that followed. Now there were assassins on their way to kill him.
Sent by me!
No, not by me. Never by me!
How could I have been so foolish, thought Alexander. The moment his father had torn the necklet from his throat he had felt the surging force of the Dark God. But he had believed he could control the evil, holding it back, using it when necessary. Now he knew that even that belief had been merely one more example of the cunning of Kadmilos.
Kadmilos! Even as he thought the name of the Beast he could feel the claws of power pulling at his spirit, drawing him down, the dizziness beginning. .
'No!' he shouted. 'Not this time!'
'You are mine,' came the whispering voice from deep within him.
'Never!'
'Always,' came the response. 'Look on, Alexander — and despair!'
The hidden doors of his memory opened and he saw again the murder of Philip, but worse than this he saw himself the night before, speaking with Pausanius and urging him to seek revenge. 'When I am King,' he heard himself saying, 'your rewards will be great indeed.'
'Poor, naive Pausanius,' whispered the voice in his mind. 'How surprised he was when you leapt across the body of the fallen King and plunged your sword into his chest.'