Valerio Massimo Manfredi - Alexander: Child of a Dream (Alexander Trilogy)

ALEXANDER : CHILD OF A DREAM

the four magi slowly climbed the paths that led to the summit of the Mountain of Light. They came from the four corners of the horizon, each carrying a satchel containing fragrant wood for the rite of fire.

The Wise Man of Sunrise wore a cloak of pink silk that shaded into blue and his feet were clad with deerskin sandals. The Wise Man of Sunset wore a crimson gown streaked with gold and from his shoulders hung a long stole made of byssus and embroidered in the same colours.

The Wise Man of Midday had a purple tunic decorated with golden ears of wheat and wore snakeskin slippers. The last of them, the Wise Man of the Night, was dressed in black wool woven from the fleece of unborn lambs and dotted with silver stars.

They moved as though the rhythm of their walk were marked by a music that only they could hear and they approached the temple at the same pace, covering equal distances even though the first was climbing a rocky slope, the next was walking along a level path and the last two progressed along the sandy beds of driedup rivers.

They reached the four entrances of the stone tower at the same instant, just as dawn draped the immense deserted landscape of the plateau in pearly light.

They bowed and looked into one another's faces through the four entrance arches, and then they moved towards the altar. The wise Man of Sunrise began the rite, arranging sandalwood branches in a square; next came the Wise Man of Midday who added, diagonally, bundles of acacia twigs. Onto this base the

Wise Man of Sunset heaped cedar wood, gathered in the forest of Mount Lebanon and stripped of its bark Last of all the Wise Man of the Night laid branches of seasoned Caucasian oak, lightning struck wood dried in the highland sun Then all four drew their sacred flints from their satchels and together they struck blue sparks at the base of the small pyramid until the fire began to burn weak at first, faltering, then ever stronger and more vigorous the vermilion tongues becoming blue and then almost white, just like the Celestial Fire, like the supernal breath of Ahura Mazda, God of Truth and Glory, Lord of Time and Life

Only the pure voice of the fire murmured its arcane poetry within the great stone tower Not even the breathing of the four men standing motionless at the very centre of their vast homeland could be heard They watched on enrapt as the sacred flame took shape from the simple architecture of the branches arranged on the stone altar. They stared into that most pure light, into that wonderful dance of fire, lifting their prayer for the people and for the King the Great King, the King of Kings who sat far away in the splendid hall in his palace, the timeless Persepohs, in the midst of a forest of columns painted purple and gold, guarded by winged bulls and lions rampant

The air, at that hour of the morning, in that magic and solitary place, was completely still, just as it had to be for the Celestial Fire to assume the forms and the motions of its divine nature It was this nature which drove the flames ever higher towards the Empyrean, their original source But suddenly a powerful force breathed over the flames and quenched them, as the Magi watched on in astonishment, even the red embers were suddenly transformed into black charcoal There was no other sign, not a sound except the screech of a falcon rising up into the empty sky, neither were there any words The four men stood dumbstruck at the altar, stricken by this most sad omen, tears welling in silence

At that same moment, far away in a remote western land, a young woman trembled as she approached the oaks of an ancient sanctuary She had come to request a blessing for the child she now felt move for the first time in her womb The woman's name was Olympias The name of her child came on the wind that blew impatiently through the age old branches, stirring the dead leaves round the bases of the giant trunks The name was

ALEXANDROS

olympias had decided to visit the Sanctuary of Dodona because of a strange premonition that had come to her as she slept alongside her husband Philip

II, King of the Macedonians, who lay that night in a wineand foodsated slumber.

She had dreamed of a snake slithering slowly along the corridor outside and then entering their bed chamber silently. She could see it, but she could not move, and neither could she shout for help. The coils of the great reptile slid over the stone floor and in the moonlight that penetrated the room through the window, its scales glinted with copper and bronze reflections.

For a moment she wanted Philip to wake up and take her in his arms, to hold her against his strong, muscular chest, to caress her with his big warrior's hands, but immediately she turned to look again on the drakon, on the huge animal that moved like a ghost, like a magic creature, like the creatures the gods summon from the bowels of the earth whenever the need arises.

Now, strangely, she was no longer afraid of it. She felt no disgust for it, indeed she felt ever more attracted and almost charmed by the sinuous movement, by the graceful and silent force.

The snake worked its way under the blankets, it slipped between her legs and between her breasts and she felt it take her, light and cold, without hurting her at all, without violence.

She dreamed that its seed mingled with the seed her husband had already thrust into her with the strength of a bull, with all the vigour of a wild boar, before he had collapsed under the weight of exhaustion and of wine.

The next day the King had put on his armour, dined with his generals on wild hog's meat and sheep's milk cheese, and had left to go to war This was a war against a people more barbarous than his Macedonians the Triballians, who dressed in bearskins, who wore hats of fox fur and lived along the banks of the Ister, the biggest river in Europe

All he had said to Olympias was, 'Remember to offer sacrifices to the gods while I am away and bear me a man child, an heir who looks like me '

Then he had mounted his bay horse and set off at a gallop with his generals, the courtyard resounding with the noise of their steeds' hooves, echoing with the clanging of their arms Olympias took a warm bath following her husband's departure and while her maidservants massaged her back with sponges steeped in essence of jasmine and Pierian roses, she sent for Artemisia, the woman who had been her wetnurse Artemisia was aged now, but her bosom was still ample, her hips still shapely and she came from a good family, Olympias had brought her here from Epirus when she had come to marry Philip

She recounted the dream and asked, 'Good Artemisia, what does it mean''

Artemisia had her mistress come out of the warm bath and began to dry her with towels of Egyptian linen

'My child, dreams are always messages from the gods, but few people know how to interpret them I think you should go to the most ancient of the sanctuanes in Epirus, our homeland, to consult the Oracle of Dodona Since time immemorial the priests there have handed down the art of reading the voice of the great Zeus, father of the gods and of men The voice speaks when the wind passes through the branches of the ageold oaks of the sanctuary, when it makes their leaves whisper in spring or summer, or when it stirs the dead leaves into movement around the trunks during autumn and winter '

And so it was that a few days later Olympias set off towards the sanctuary that had been built in a most impressive place, in a green valley nestling among wooded mountains Tradition had it that this was among the oldest temples on earth two doves were said to have flown from Zeus's hand immediately after he chased Cronus, his father, from the skies One dove had lighted on an oak at Dodona, the other on a palm tree at the Oasis of Siwa, in the midst of the burning sands of Libya And since then, in those two places, the voice of the father of the gods had made itself heard