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Authors: Shan Sa
Tags: prose_contemporary
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all these peoples-the Greeks, the Macedonians, the Persians, the Chaldeans, the Jews, the Egyptians, and the Arabs-would never have agreed to embrace each other.
Don't you see, it is here, in Babylon, in Darius's bed, that my fate has been revealed. I have conquered peoples, and those peoples have conquered me. For them I shall design a new civilization, a new world, that of the phoenix rising from the ashes.
The eunuch who has already betrayed one master must die of a sudden fever. I shall confer the regency of Babylon on Mazee, Darius's general who fought valiantly against Alexander.
Crateros shall be the arm mercilessly brandishing my sword. One by one, Darius's sons-both legitimate and illegitimate- shall be tracked down and decapitated. You, Hephaestion, who love medicine, you must learn Persian remedies and magic. You shall heal my wounds and give succor to my soul.
***
The door of the imperial gynaeceum opened to reveal thousands of women's bodies, offerings given by the empire's twenty satrapies. Princesses, noblewomen, daughters of the common people, daughters of vassal tribes, girls captured by nomadic cavalries… all had been Darius's slaves, captive to his desires.
Young, old, barely out of childhood, blond, brunette, white, black, women from every land on earth were represented here, living imprisoned in a vast room covered in carpets and decorated with pools and fountains. They slept, urinated, danced, embraced, sang, and ate in a hubbub of moans, cries, sighs, and laughter, all indifferent to onlookers or to the smell of putrefaction and excrement. Eunuchs circulated among them, some serving, others cracking a whip. I was informed that since Darius fled, the attendants in the City of Pleasure had stopped cleaning the gynaeceum and only fed the women once a day. Their eyes looked dull and empty for lack of air and freedom, like birds with clipped wings no longer dreaming of the sky. In all that dying flesh I found the king's favorite, the one painted on all the walls of his bedchamber. She was lying naked on a carpet, sobbing and weeping, her hair disheveled. Her body was covered with scars and scabs. I learned that after Darius's defeat the other women had scratched and bitten and trampled on her.
I gave orders for these women to be released, and handed each of them enough money to travel home. I myself washed and fed Jasmine, the woman whom the Great King had loved, and led her to my room. Although quite lucid now, she would not say anything. She was happy simply taking refuge in my arms. In my absence she stayed on the bed, motionless, occasionally sweeping her cold, joyless eyes over the frescoes depicting moments of happiness she no longer recognized. She had turned my room into another prison.
When I finally decided to give her freedom, she claimed she knew where her parents lived. She refused an escort, took the money I gave her, and left.
They say Jasmine drifted about the city. They say she went mad all over again. Babylonians, if on your travels through these sinuous streets you chance across a little girl with disheveled hair, walking barefoot and singing and muttering to herself, give her water, give her bread, do not throw stones at her! It is Jasmine, once cherished by Darius, the most powerful of kings, tended for a while by Alexander, the most intrepid warrior. Babylonians, step aside and let this girl pass, this girl who harbors the secret of her loves in her breast.
***
Giant sailing ships unfurled their sails and plied up and down the Euphrates. Smaller boats laden with goods, like fish teeming round marine monsters, tossed and jostled in their wake. Persia was the country of excess.
Every quarter of the city had its own libraries, vast palaces with rooms in which the erudite from all lands could come to eat, sleep, and work. A royal annuity allowed them to lead an intellectual life with no concern for the contingencies of their day-to-day existence. This decree
Don't you see, it is here, in Babylon, in Darius's bed, that my fate has been revealed. I have conquered peoples, and those peoples have conquered me. For them I shall design a new civilization, a new world, that of the phoenix rising from the ashes.
The eunuch who has already betrayed one master must die of a sudden fever. I shall confer the regency of Babylon on Mazee, Darius's general who fought valiantly against Alexander.
Crateros shall be the arm mercilessly brandishing my sword. One by one, Darius's sons-both legitimate and illegitimate- shall be tracked down and decapitated. You, Hephaestion, who love medicine, you must learn Persian remedies and magic. You shall heal my wounds and give succor to my soul.
***
The door of the imperial gynaeceum opened to reveal thousands of women's bodies, offerings given by the empire's twenty satrapies. Princesses, noblewomen, daughters of the common people, daughters of vassal tribes, girls captured by nomadic cavalries… all had been Darius's slaves, captive to his desires.
Young, old, barely out of childhood, blond, brunette, white, black, women from every land on earth were represented here, living imprisoned in a vast room covered in carpets and decorated with pools and fountains. They slept, urinated, danced, embraced, sang, and ate in a hubbub of moans, cries, sighs, and laughter, all indifferent to onlookers or to the smell of putrefaction and excrement. Eunuchs circulated among them, some serving, others cracking a whip. I was informed that since Darius fled, the attendants in the City of Pleasure had stopped cleaning the gynaeceum and only fed the women once a day. Their eyes looked dull and empty for lack of air and freedom, like birds with clipped wings no longer dreaming of the sky. In all that dying flesh I found the king's favorite, the one painted on all the walls of his bedchamber. She was lying naked on a carpet, sobbing and weeping, her hair disheveled. Her body was covered with scars and scabs. I learned that after Darius's defeat the other women had scratched and bitten and trampled on her.
I gave orders for these women to be released, and handed each of them enough money to travel home. I myself washed and fed Jasmine, the woman whom the Great King had loved, and led her to my room. Although quite lucid now, she would not say anything. She was happy simply taking refuge in my arms. In my absence she stayed on the bed, motionless, occasionally sweeping her cold, joyless eyes over the frescoes depicting moments of happiness she no longer recognized. She had turned my room into another prison.
When I finally decided to give her freedom, she claimed she knew where her parents lived. She refused an escort, took the money I gave her, and left.
They say Jasmine drifted about the city. They say she went mad all over again. Babylonians, if on your travels through these sinuous streets you chance across a little girl with disheveled hair, walking barefoot and singing and muttering to herself, give her water, give her bread, do not throw stones at her! It is Jasmine, once cherished by Darius, the most powerful of kings, tended for a while by Alexander, the most intrepid warrior. Babylonians, step aside and let this girl pass, this girl who harbors the secret of her loves in her breast.
***
Giant sailing ships unfurled their sails and plied up and down the Euphrates. Smaller boats laden with goods, like fish teeming round marine monsters, tossed and jostled in their wake. Persia was the country of excess.
Every quarter of the city had its own libraries, vast palaces with rooms in which the erudite from all lands could come to eat, sleep, and work. A royal annuity allowed them to lead an intellectual life with no concern for the contingencies of their day-to-day existence. This decree
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