will never happen now,” I said. I had been a child sold as a slave. And now I knew what good fortune it had been to be bought by Tehwaz.
“Death can come for us at any time. I'd like to think someone would take care of Thais and the children.”
“I imagine Thais does a fair job of taking care of herself,” I said.
He smiled at that. “She does. But Chloe and her brother, Lagos…” He took a deep breath. “It's not good in Babylon, Lydias. Krateros and the Macedonian party want to put everything back the way it was, just go home to Pella and forget that any of this ever happened, except for being richer men.”
I nodded. There had always been that faction, Macedonians who had followed their king to make war on the Persian barbarians, and who could not understand why, having won, there was anything to think of besides the money and going home. They had been the ones who had the least patience for ruling, and who had grumbled that the King adopted too much Persian dress, ate too much Persian food, and had too many Persians about him.
Ptolemy continued. “Perdiccas wants to be Great King of Persia, and he's got a bunch of Persian nobles backing him. He has a Persian wife from one of the greatest families, and he's making a play for Alexander's sister Cleopatra at the same time. Add to that a bunch of half-baked contenders who want the entire pudding, and you have a disaster. Everyone wants to be Alexander.”
“No one is,” I said.
Ptolemy looked at me sideways. “That was a happy conjunction of circumstance and talent that will not happen again.”
“The gods willed it,” I said.
“Yes, that too. But in any event, the effects of the experiment are unreproduceable.”
“And Roxane's son?” I asked.
Ptolemy looked out over the courtyard, where Thais and his daughter had joined the others below. Thais was gesturing and talking with three women, one a dark-haired Indian in a threadbare printed sari. “Do you really think he will be allowed to grow up? Is it in anyone's interests for him to live more than a few years?”
“It's in Roxane's interests,” I said, and felt my stomach clench.
“Roxane, yes,” he said. “She's a tiger. Just exactly like Alexander's mother, Olympias. She murdered anyone who got in her way. If you wanted to live, you gave her no reason to fear you.” Below, Thais seemed to have made clear where the privies were, involving elaborate hand gestures for women who it seemed spoke little Greek. “Roxane had Queen Stateira killed. Which is the reason Oxathres won't support Perdiccas. Stateira was his niece, and he is not about to be of any party that countenanced her murder.” Ptolemy shook his head. “Which means if it comes to war the Persian nobility will split along blood and clan lines. That's why Artashir came with me. He will not support anyone who is with Roxane. Not only have we split along the lines one would expect, the old-style Macedonians against the new men, but now this as well. Artashir and Perdiccas should be of the same party—Perdiccas was always one of the new men, always one who got on well with Persians. But if he's with Roxane, then he's lost Stateira's kin.”
“That's not good,” I said. I had expected that it would fall out with the old Macedonians, the men who had served Alexander's father like Antipatros and Krateros, against the younger Companions lately raised to prominence by the King. But if both those sides were split as well, then who knew how it might end?
Ptolemy went on. “And meanwhile Athens and several other cities in Greece are on the verge of revolt against Antipatros.”
I let out a long breath. “Civil war in Persia and Greece both. What does that leave us?”
“Egypt,” Ptolemy said.
“And when Perdiccas and Antipatros both call for troops?”
Ptolemy ran his hand through his hair. “We'll face that when we come to it. In the meantime, we must do our best to put Egypt in order. Now what is this problem I hear about
“Death can come for us at any time. I'd like to think someone would take care of Thais and the children.”
“I imagine Thais does a fair job of taking care of herself,” I said.
He smiled at that. “She does. But Chloe and her brother, Lagos…” He took a deep breath. “It's not good in Babylon, Lydias. Krateros and the Macedonian party want to put everything back the way it was, just go home to Pella and forget that any of this ever happened, except for being richer men.”
I nodded. There had always been that faction, Macedonians who had followed their king to make war on the Persian barbarians, and who could not understand why, having won, there was anything to think of besides the money and going home. They had been the ones who had the least patience for ruling, and who had grumbled that the King adopted too much Persian dress, ate too much Persian food, and had too many Persians about him.
Ptolemy continued. “Perdiccas wants to be Great King of Persia, and he's got a bunch of Persian nobles backing him. He has a Persian wife from one of the greatest families, and he's making a play for Alexander's sister Cleopatra at the same time. Add to that a bunch of half-baked contenders who want the entire pudding, and you have a disaster. Everyone wants to be Alexander.”
“No one is,” I said.
Ptolemy looked at me sideways. “That was a happy conjunction of circumstance and talent that will not happen again.”
“The gods willed it,” I said.
“Yes, that too. But in any event, the effects of the experiment are unreproduceable.”
“And Roxane's son?” I asked.
Ptolemy looked out over the courtyard, where Thais and his daughter had joined the others below. Thais was gesturing and talking with three women, one a dark-haired Indian in a threadbare printed sari. “Do you really think he will be allowed to grow up? Is it in anyone's interests for him to live more than a few years?”
“It's in Roxane's interests,” I said, and felt my stomach clench.
“Roxane, yes,” he said. “She's a tiger. Just exactly like Alexander's mother, Olympias. She murdered anyone who got in her way. If you wanted to live, you gave her no reason to fear you.” Below, Thais seemed to have made clear where the privies were, involving elaborate hand gestures for women who it seemed spoke little Greek. “Roxane had Queen Stateira killed. Which is the reason Oxathres won't support Perdiccas. Stateira was his niece, and he is not about to be of any party that countenanced her murder.” Ptolemy shook his head. “Which means if it comes to war the Persian nobility will split along blood and clan lines. That's why Artashir came with me. He will not support anyone who is with Roxane. Not only have we split along the lines one would expect, the old-style Macedonians against the new men, but now this as well. Artashir and Perdiccas should be of the same party—Perdiccas was always one of the new men, always one who got on well with Persians. But if he's with Roxane, then he's lost Stateira's kin.”
“That's not good,” I said. I had expected that it would fall out with the old Macedonians, the men who had served Alexander's father like Antipatros and Krateros, against the younger Companions lately raised to prominence by the King. But if both those sides were split as well, then who knew how it might end?
Ptolemy went on. “And meanwhile Athens and several other cities in Greece are on the verge of revolt against Antipatros.”
I let out a long breath. “Civil war in Persia and Greece both. What does that leave us?”
“Egypt,” Ptolemy said.
“And when Perdiccas and Antipatros both call for troops?”
Ptolemy ran his hand through his hair. “We'll face that when we come to it. In the meantime, we must do our best to put Egypt in order. Now what is this problem I hear about
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