Two days had passed since Alexander executed Glaucias. What was left of the physician’s body remained outside Babylon ’s walls, on the ground and in the trees, the animals still picking flesh from the bones. The king’s fury continued unrestrained. He was short-tempered, suspicious, and unhappy. Eumenes was called into the king’s presence and Alexander told his secretary that he would soon die. The statement shocked Eumenes, as he could not imagine a world without Alexander. The king said that the gods were impatient and his time among the living was about to end. Eumenes listened, but placed little credence in the prediction. Alexander had long believed that he was not the son of Philip, but instead the mortal descendant of Zeus. A fantastic claim for sure, but after all his great conquests many had come to agree with him. Alexander spoke of Roxane and the child she carried in her womb. If it be a boy he would have a solid claim to the throne, but Alexander recognized the resentment Greeks would have toward a half-foreign ruler. He told Eumenes that his Companions would battle among themselves for his empire and he did not want to be a part of their struggle. “Let them claim their own destiny,” he said. His was made. So he told Eumenes that he wanted to be buried with Hephaestion. Like Achilles, who wished that his ashes be mixed with those of his lover, Alexander wanted the same. “I shall make sure your ashes and his are joined,” Eumenes said. But Alexander shook his head. “No. Bury us together.” Since just days earlier Eumenes had witnessed Hephaestion’s grand funeral pyre, he asked how that would be possible. Alexander told him that the body burned in Babylon was not Hephaestion’s. He’d ordered Hephaestion embalmed last fall so that he could be transported to a place where he could forever lie in peace. Alexander wanted the same for himself. “Mummify me,” he commanded, “then take me where I, too, can lie in clean air.” He forced Eumenes to pledge that he would fulfill this wish, in secret, involving only two others, whom the king named.
Malone glanced up from the screen. Outside, the rain had quickened. “Where did they take him?”
“It becomes more confusing,” Cassiopeia said. “Ely dated that manuscript to about forty years after Alexander died.” She reached over to the laptop and scrolled through the pages on the screen. “Read this. More from Hieronymus of Cardia.”
How wrong that the greatest of kings, Alexander of Macedonia , should lie forever in an unknown place. Though he sought a quiet respite, one which he arranged, such a silent fate does not seem fitting. Alexander was correct about his Companions. The generals fought among themselves, killing each other and all who posed a threat to their claims. Ptolemy may have been the most fortunate. He ruled Egypt for thirty-eight years. In the last year of his reign, he heard of my efforts in writing this account and summoned me to the palace from the library at Alexandria . He knew of my friendship with Eumenes and read with interest what I had so far written. He then confirmed that the body buried in Memphis was not that of Alexander. Ptolemy made clear that he’d known that ever since he’d attacked the funeral cortege. Years later he’d finally become curious and dispatched investigators. Eumenes was brought to Egypt and told Ptolemy that Alexander’s true remains were hidden in a place only he knew. By then the grave site in Memphis , where Alexander was said to lay, had become a shrine. “We both fought by his side and would have gladly died for him,” Ptolemy told Eumenes. “He should not lie forever in secret.” Overcome by remorse and sensing that Ptolemy was sincere, Eumenes revealed the resting place, far away, in the mountains, where the Scythians taught Alexander about life, then Eumenes died shortly thereafter. Ptolemy recalled that when asked to whom did he leave his kingdom, Alexander had answered “to the brightest.” So Ptolemy spoke these words to me:
And you, adventurer, for my immortal voice,
though far off, fills your ears, hear my words.
Sail onto the capital founded by Alexander’s father,
where sages stand guard.
Touch the innermost being of the golden illusion.
Divide the phoenix.
Life provides the measure of the true grave.
But be wary, for there is but one chance of success.
Climb the god-built walls.
When you reach the attic, gaze into the tawny eye,
and dare to find the distant refuge.
Ptolemy then handed me a silver medallion that showed Alexander when he fought against elephants. He told me that, in honor of those battles, he’d minted the coins. He also told me to come back when I solved his riddle. But a month later Ptolemy lay dead.
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
TWENTY-FIVE
SAMARKAND
CENTRAL ASIAN FEDERATION
11:50 P.M.
ZOVASTINA LIGHTLY RAPPED ON A WHITE LACQUERED DOOR. A stately, well-groomed woman in her late fifties with dull gray-black hair answered. Like always, Zovastina did not wait to be invited inside.
“Is she awake?”
The woman nodded and Zovastina marched down the hall.