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Outside, Bagoas offered unstinted praise, the price of admission, willingly paid. “It will be counted among the wonders of the world.” He added deliberately, “The Egyptians are proud of their funeral arts; but even there I saw nothing to compare with it.”

“You have been to Egypt?” Arybbas asked, surprised.

“Since my service with Alexander ended, I have traveled a little to pass my time. He spoke so much of Alexandria, I wished to see it for myself … You, sir, of course, were there at its foundation.”

He said no more, leaving Arybbas to ask questions. To these he replied obligingly, leaving loose ends which prompted further questions. These led to a modest confession that he had been granted an audience with the Satrap.

“As it happened, though officers and friends of Alexander had come from most of nearer Asia to join his army, I was the only one from Babylon, so he asked for news. He had heard, he said, that Alexander’s bier was to be a marvel, and asked who had been charged with it. When he knew, he exclaimed that Alexander himself could wish for no one better. ‘If only,’ he said, ‘Arybbas could be here to adorn the Founder’s temple.’ … Perhaps, sir, that is indiscreet of me.” Fleetingly, like a reflection upon water, appeared the smile which had entranced two kings. “But I don’t think that he would mind.”

They talked for some time, Arybbas having found his curiosity about Alexandria sharpened. Riding back to his house, he was aware he had been delicately probed; but he did not pursue this thought. If he knew what Ptolemy wanted, it might be his duty to divulge it; and this, he suspected, might be to his disadvantage.

In the thick-walled palace of red stone on the red-rock citadel of Sardis, Kleopatra and her women were settled in modest comfort by the standards of nearer Asia; in luxury by those of Epiros. Perdikkas had had the royal apartments refurbished and redraped, and staffed with well-trained slaves.

To Nikaia his bride, during their brief honeymoon, he had explained the arrival of the Molossian Queen by saying she was in flight from her mother, who had usurped her power and threatened her life; a daughter of Antipatros’ would believe anything of Olympias. After some ceremonious festivities suited to her rank, he had despatched the lady to an estate of his nearby, on the grounds that war continued and he would soon be taking the field. Returning to Sardis, he resumed his courtship of Kleopatra. His visits and costly gifts had all the conventions of betrothal.

Kleopatra had enjoyed her journey; the family restlessness had not passed her by. The sight of new horizons had consoled her even for leaving her son behind. His grandmother would treat him like a son of her own whom she could train for kingship. When she herself was married and living in Macedon, she could see him often.

She had assessed Perdikkas more as a colleague than a husband. He was a dominating man, and she had sounded him for signs that he would overrule and bully her. It seemed, however, he had the sense to know that without her support he could neither get nor keep the regency. Later, depending on how he behaved, she might help him to the throne. He would be a hard king; but after Antipatros a soft one would be despised.

With a certain detachment, she imagined him in bed with her, but doubted it would be of much importance to either of them once she had produced an heir. Clearly, it would be more valuable and more lasting to make a friend of him than a lover; this she was already doing with some success.

On this day of early spring he was to take the midday meal with her. Both preferred the informality of noon and the chance of undisturbed talk. The single dish would be good; he had found her a Karian cook. She studied his tastes against the time when they would be married. She did not mean to deal hardly with Antipatros’ poor plain little girl, as her mother had done with rivals; Nikaia could go back safe to her family. The Persian wife from Susa had done so long ago.

He arrived on foot from his quarters at the other end of the rambling palace, whose buildings clambered about the rock. He had dressed for her with a jeweled shoulder-brooch and a splendid arm-ring clasped with gold gryphon heads. His sword-belt was set with plaques of Persian cloisonné. Yes, she thought, he would make a convincing king.

He liked to talk of his wars under Alexander, and she to listen; only fragmented news had reached Epiros, and he had seen the whole. But before they had reached the wine, her eunuch chamberlain coughed at the door. A despatch had arrived for His Excellency’s urgent attention.

“From Eumenes,” he said as he broke the seal. He spoke rather too easily, aware that Eumenes called nothing urgent without good cause.

As he read, she saw his weathered tan go sallow, and sent out the slave who was serving them. Like most men of his time, he sounded the words he read (it was thought remarkable in Alexander to have suppressed this reflex); but his jaw had set; she heard only an angry mutter. Seeing his face at the end, she guessed that he would look like this in war. “What is it?” she said.

“Antigonos has fled to Greece.”

Antigonos … while he stared before him, she remembered that this was the Satrap of Phrygia, nicknamed One-Eye. “Was he not under arrest for treason? I suppose he was afraid.”

He gave a snort like a horse’s. “He, afraid? He has gone to betray me to Antipatros.”

She saw that he wanted only to be thinking ahead; but there was more here than she had been told, and she had a right to know. “What was the treason? Why was he being held?”

He answered savagely, “To stop his mouth. I found out that he knew.”

She took this in without trouble; she was not a daughter of Macedon for nothing. My father, she thought, would not have done it; nor Alexander. In the old days … must we go back to that? She only said, “How did he come to know?”

“Ask the rats in the wall. He was the last man I’d have confided in. He was always close with Antipatros. He must have smelled something and sent a spy. It’s all one now, the harm’s done.”

She nodded; there was no need to spell it out. They must be married with royal ceremony before attempting Macedon. There was no time now; Antipatros would be marching north from Aitolia the moment he got the news. A scrambled wedding would bring them nothing but scandal. She thought, This will mean war.

He swung himself down from his dining-couch and began to stride the room; she had a stray thought that they might as well be married already. Wheeling round, he said, “And I still have to deal with those accursed women.”

“What women?” She let her voice sharpen; he was keeping too much, lately, to himself. “You’ve said nothing of women; who are they?”

He made a sound, compounded of impatience and embarrassment. “No. It was hardly fitting; but I should have told you. Philip, your brother ♥”

“Pray, don’t call that wittol my brother!” She had never shared Alexander’s tolerance of Philinna’s son. Her only passage of arms with Perdikkas had taken place when he had wanted to install the King in the palace, as became his rank. “If he comes, I go.” He had seen in her face a flash of Alexander’s will. Philip had stayed in the royal tent; he was used to it, and had no thought of any other arrangement. “What has he to do with women, in God’s name?”

“Alexander betrothed him to Adeia, your cousin Amyntas’ daughter. He even granted her the royal name of Eurydike, which she’s made a point of using. I don’t know what he meant by it. Shortly before he died, Philip took a turn for the better. Alexander seemed pleased. You’d not know, it’s too long since you saw either of them. Alexander took him along in the first place to keep him safe out of the way, in case someone should use him in Macedon. Also, as he told me one night when he was drunk, because Olympias might have killed him if he was left behind. But he got a kind of fondness for him, after taking care of him all those years. He was glad to see him looking more like a man, and let him be seen with him, helping at the sacrifices and so on. Half the army saw it, that’s why we’ve the trouble we have today. But there were no plans for any wedding. If he’d not fallen ill, he’d have marched to Arabia within the month. In the end, I expect, the marriage would have been by proxy.”