The Persian Boy by Mary Renault

by weeping, we put him to bed; also Tyriotes, who looked ready to faint. His throat had turned black next day; he had to use a scarf to cover it, when the King summoned him again.
    He went in terror, but was not kept for long. All the King asked him was, “Did my mother send any word to me?” He answered, “No, my lord; but she was much disordered with grief.” The King then gave him leave to go.
    Word came that the battleground was ready, as smooth to drive or ride on as a street. On one flank were the hills, on the other was the river. So the King put off his mourning, as not being proper for leading troops in war. All Persian kings lead the center, as all kings of Macedon lead the right. His chariot was brought up, equipped with all his weapons; he was dressed in his coat of mail.
    Two or three eunuchs of the Bedchamber, who always saw to his clothes and toilet, went to attend him in camp. To the last I wondered if he would take me. It scared, yet drew me. I thought I could fight, if put to it, and it would be my father’s wish. I hung about, but the King said nothing. With the rest I stood to see him mount his chariot, and withdrew from his escort’s dust.
    Now we were just the Household, women, eunuchs and slaves. The battleground was too far even to ride in sight of. We could only wait.
    I went up to the walls, and looked to the north, and thought, I am fifteen years old. I would have my manhood, if it had not been taken away. If my father had lived, he would have brought me with him; he never held me back from anything I dared to do, not even for my mother. I would be with him now among our warriors, laughing together and making ready to die. That I was born to; this I am. I must make the best I can of it.
    It came into my head to go round the yards where the women’s wagons were, to make sure the horses were stabled near, the harness mended, the drivers ready and sober. I told them the King had ordered it, and they believed me.
    While about this meddling, I ran, to my surprise, into Boubakes of Egypt, the Chief Eunuch; a tall and stately person, who had always been civil to me, but distant; I don’t think he approved that the King should keep a boy. However, he asked me without reproof what I was doing. His own presence was more remarkable.
    “I was thinking, sir,” I said, “that the wagons should be ready. Supposing,” I said, looking him in the eye, “the King should pursue the enemy. He would want the Household with him.”
    “My own thought also.” He gave me a grave approving nod. It was no lie that our thoughts had been just the same. “The King has a far greater host than he had at Issos. Half as many again.”
    “Truly. And the scythed chariots, too.” We looked at each other, and then away.
    I hired Tiger, my horse, a private stable, with good strong doors, and took care to keep him exercised.
    The King’s Messengers had been set up with their relay-posts, to take dispatches between the King and Arbela. Most day?s, one came in. In a day or two, we heard the Macedonians had appeared on the hills above the plain of Gaugamela, where the King was awaiting them. Later again, that Alexander had been sighted, shown up by his flashing armor, riding with his scouts to survey the field.
    That night there was a great play of summer lightning, which brought no rain. It was as if the north skies were burning. For hours it flickered and danced, without sound of thunder. The air was heavy and still.
    Next day I waked in the dawn-dark. All Arbela was astir, the garrison were busy about the horse-lines. At sunup, the walls were full of people gazing north, though there was nothing to see.
    I met Boubakes again, visiting the women’s quarters, and guessed he was telling their eunuchs to look alive. Harem duties make such people fat and lazy. Still, these were faithful to their trust, as we were soon to learn.
    Taking Tiger for his canter, I felt him on edge; he’d caught it from the other horses, who’d