Read Online Alexander: Child of a Dream by Valerio Massimo Manfredi - Free Book Online
Authors: Valerio Massimo Manfredi
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overseers’ meal.
The Prince dismounted and stood in front of her: she was thin, barefoot, her hair dirty, her big dark eyes full of sadness.
‘What is your name?’ he asked her.
The girl did not reply.
‘She probably cannot speak,’ observed Philip.
Alexander turned to his father. ‘I can change her fate. I want to change it.’
Philip nodded. ‘You can, if you wish, but remember that your actions will not change the world.’
Alexander had the girl climb onto the horse, behind him, and he covered her with his cloak.
The sun was setting when they reached Amphipolis once more, and they spent the night in the house of a friend of the King. Alexander ordered that the girl should be washed and dressed and then he sat and watched her as she ate.
He tried to speak to her, but she replied in monosyllables and nothing of what she said was comprehensible.
‘It must be some barbarian tongue,’ Philip explained. ‘If you want to communicate with her, you’ll have to wait until she learns Macedonian.’
‘I will wait,’ replied Alexander.
The following day the weather improved and they continued on their return journey, once again crossing the bridge of boats over the Strymon, but on reaching Bromiskos, they turned to the south along the peninsula of Mount Athos. They rode throughout the day and at sunset reached a point where they could see before them an enormous trench which had been carved through the peninsula from one side to the other. Alexander pulled in the reins of his charger and sat immobile, speechless, looking at the gigantean work.
‘Do you see this canal?’ his father asked. ‘It was excavated almost one hundred and fifty years ago by Xerxes, the emperor of the Persians, to allow the passage of his fleet and to avoid the risk of its being shipwrecked on the cliffs of Mount Athos. Ten thousand men laboured on it, working shifts through day and night. And before this the emperor had had a bridge of boats built across the Bosphorus, uniting Asia with Europe.
‘In a few days’ time we will receive a delegation from the Great King of the Persians. I wanted you to have some inkling of the power of the empire with which we are negotiating.’
Alexander nodded and stared at the colossal feat for a long time without speaking; then, seeing his father set off once more, he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and followed on behind.
‘There’s something I’d like to ask you,’ said Alexander as he rode alongside Philip.
‘I am listening.’
‘There is a boy in Pella who comes to Leonidas’ lessons, but he does not sit with us. On the few occasions I have met him he has avoided speaking to me and he is usually so very sad, melancholic even. Leonidas won’t explain who he is, but I am sure you must know.’
‘He is your cousin, Amyntas,’ replied Philip without turning. ‘Son of my brother who died in battle fighting an Illyrian tribe. Before you were born he was heir to the throne and I governed in his place as regent.’
‘You mean he should be king?’
‘The throne belongs to whoever is able to defend it,’ replied Philip. ‘Remember that. And in our country whoever has come to power has always eliminated all pretenders to the throne.’
‘But you let Amyntas live.’
‘He is my brother’s son, and he poses no threat to me.’
‘You have been… merciful.’
‘If you like.’
‘Sire?’
Philip turned; Alexander only called him ‘Sire’ when he was angry with him or when he wanted to ask a very serious question.
‘If you were to die in battle, who would be the heir to the throne Amyntas
or myself?’
‘The worthier of the two.’
The boy asked nothing else, but the reply made a deep impression on him and marked his soul for ever.
They reached Pella three days later and Alexander gave Artemisia the job of looking after the girl he had saved from the horrors of Mount Pangaeos.
‘From now onwards,’ he affirmed, with a certain childish haughtiness, ‘she will be in my service. And
The Prince dismounted and stood in front of her: she was thin, barefoot, her hair dirty, her big dark eyes full of sadness.
‘What is your name?’ he asked her.
The girl did not reply.
‘She probably cannot speak,’ observed Philip.
Alexander turned to his father. ‘I can change her fate. I want to change it.’
Philip nodded. ‘You can, if you wish, but remember that your actions will not change the world.’
Alexander had the girl climb onto the horse, behind him, and he covered her with his cloak.
The sun was setting when they reached Amphipolis once more, and they spent the night in the house of a friend of the King. Alexander ordered that the girl should be washed and dressed and then he sat and watched her as she ate.
He tried to speak to her, but she replied in monosyllables and nothing of what she said was comprehensible.
‘It must be some barbarian tongue,’ Philip explained. ‘If you want to communicate with her, you’ll have to wait until she learns Macedonian.’
‘I will wait,’ replied Alexander.
The following day the weather improved and they continued on their return journey, once again crossing the bridge of boats over the Strymon, but on reaching Bromiskos, they turned to the south along the peninsula of Mount Athos. They rode throughout the day and at sunset reached a point where they could see before them an enormous trench which had been carved through the peninsula from one side to the other. Alexander pulled in the reins of his charger and sat immobile, speechless, looking at the gigantean work.
‘Do you see this canal?’ his father asked. ‘It was excavated almost one hundred and fifty years ago by Xerxes, the emperor of the Persians, to allow the passage of his fleet and to avoid the risk of its being shipwrecked on the cliffs of Mount Athos. Ten thousand men laboured on it, working shifts through day and night. And before this the emperor had had a bridge of boats built across the Bosphorus, uniting Asia with Europe.
‘In a few days’ time we will receive a delegation from the Great King of the Persians. I wanted you to have some inkling of the power of the empire with which we are negotiating.’
Alexander nodded and stared at the colossal feat for a long time without speaking; then, seeing his father set off once more, he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and followed on behind.
‘There’s something I’d like to ask you,’ said Alexander as he rode alongside Philip.
‘I am listening.’
‘There is a boy in Pella who comes to Leonidas’ lessons, but he does not sit with us. On the few occasions I have met him he has avoided speaking to me and he is usually so very sad, melancholic even. Leonidas won’t explain who he is, but I am sure you must know.’
‘He is your cousin, Amyntas,’ replied Philip without turning. ‘Son of my brother who died in battle fighting an Illyrian tribe. Before you were born he was heir to the throne and I governed in his place as regent.’
‘You mean he should be king?’
‘The throne belongs to whoever is able to defend it,’ replied Philip. ‘Remember that. And in our country whoever has come to power has always eliminated all pretenders to the throne.’
‘But you let Amyntas live.’
‘He is my brother’s son, and he poses no threat to me.’
‘You have been… merciful.’
‘If you like.’
‘Sire?’
Philip turned; Alexander only called him ‘Sire’ when he was angry with him or when he wanted to ask a very serious question.
‘If you were to die in battle, who would be the heir to the throne Amyntas
or myself?’
‘The worthier of the two.’
The boy asked nothing else, but the reply made a deep impression on him and marked his soul for ever.
They reached Pella three days later and Alexander gave Artemisia the job of looking after the girl he had saved from the horrors of Mount Pangaeos.
‘From now onwards,’ he affirmed, with a certain childish haughtiness, ‘she will be in my service. And
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