#just gasping trying to know if my son was real if he was a heron or if he was even a boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deerheadlights · 4 years

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Going to be posting parts of my Nanowrimo from 2017 because everyone else is posting things for people to read while bored in quarantine xD You may need a web PhD in 335-330 BC to really feel it hit different...

“What are you waiting for?!” Podaleirus was shouting at the Athenian commander. “Their focus is on the walls, a quick sortie to the back and you’ll be the heroes of Greece, throwing off the Macedonian yoke!”

“They have a rear guard” he answered, gaze shifting from one man to the other. Three men stood at the crest of the lowest foothill of the Kithairon, watching the surge of troops around the 7 gates of Thebes. Tydeus could see from the Athenian’s eyes that no talk of glory would get him and his fellows to face the sarissas of Alexander the Macedonian’s rear guard. He cut off as Podaleirus drew another breath “We’ll scout out a route around them.”

Tydeus could feel his friend’s rage even in the darkness. “How much money have I given that man, and his family, and his handlers and the whole damn Acropolis to have them stand here and cower before that boy Macedonian? I can’t believe this is happening”

“Athenians have always been all talk.” Tydeus gazed along the siege lines. He had hoped after the nightmare at Charonea he would never see that many Macedonians in Boeotia ever again. The combined strength of Athens and Thebes had been crushed, and the Sacred Band, the military symbol of Thebes that he and Podaleirus had once been part of, had been decimated. Noblemen like Podaleirus had fled the new regime and settled in Athens, and Tydeus had followed.

“Not just that. They said the boy king was dead. No one even reported him crossing Thermopylae and he’s already here.” Now that had been news, the report of Alexander’s death while fighting Illyrians. The last three months had gone by quick as a blink. The people had risen up and killed the leader of the Macedonian garrison. Tydeus, Podaleirus and all of the Theban exiles in Athens had come running back, there had been celebrations for days. The idea had buoyed them through the news that a Macedonian army had come down to mete out punishment for killing the garrison. Even then they had insisted it must be Antipater, who had been closer to Greece. To assuage fears Podaleirus and other nobles had brought their families back to the city: when the army came, they wouldn’t leave again. That was the real source of Podaleirus’s desperation.

“Alkyone is safe in the Temple of the Amphion with the other noble women” Tydeus tried to assure his friend. “The seven gates of Thebes won’t be breaching without a longer assault, enough time for our Southern friends to steel their livers and get to fighting” “I know, but I should have never let it get so close”

They had moved towards the western edge of the city where farms lay abandoned to the siege. The rows of troops started to ebb. “There’s a gap forming here, already gotten busy looting easy picki—“ Tydeus’s blood ran cold, the gap wasn’t from troops moving outward into the farmlands, but moving inward.

“The moon gate is breached”

“No – That’s not—“ He felt Podaleirus stiffen at his side then just empty space. “You go back to Commander [name], I have to get my daughter!” the call came from the darkness. What? He can’t go in there alone, it’s suicide. Tydeus was running after him before the thought had run it’s course. Unfortunately he knew, from every childhood foot race, to the [Chithraon] games to their training races as part of the Sacred Band, Podaleirus was faster than him.

He could already hear the yelling from the fighting inside the gates. Luckily outside the phalanx the Macedonian troops didn’t have their signature sarissas, the longest spears in the world, but their formation was wreaking havoc on the disorganized just-freed slaves that were the first defence of the city. They didn’t expect an attack from the rear though. He dropped a man with a chop against the back of the knees, keeping against a slum wall. His cry in the back of the formation caused enough confusion to break through a gap. His shield was unslung and he gave one of the front rankers its rim in the teeth before continuing towards Podaleirus.

But a wave of Illyrian skirmishers swept in to separate them. Tattooed barbarians. Tydeus’s short sword caught a man through the gap in his cresent moon shield. Another one with blue dogs or frogs or some other wild northern garbage tattooed on his face took his place. The tight focus of years of training slowed everything. A spear point crashed against his shield, and Tydeus’s sword was caught against his as the man went down. He was already arcing a blow before the man’s Boeotian voice stopped him “Sir! Are you here with the Athenian reinforcements?” A farm slave with a scythe, leader of a ragtag group of farmers and herme makers had saved him.

“Ay, they’re here, on that hill to the south, gawking”

“What do you mean—“

But Tydeus had already gone. I should rally them, he thought, what kind of citizen am I? But he had only one goal on his mind. Podaleirus had evaded the Illyrians and going up the Sacred Way in a full sprint. Then he leaped and came down on his face. Why? Why had he jumped? It made no- Tydeus saw the spear shaft in his back, like it had miraculously grown like a sapling. Then he heard the yelling behind him. He turned, and there was the tattered Macedonian garrison, that had held out, waiting for Alexander to arrive and free them from their siege within a siege in the stockade on the Cadmea. The man who had thrown the javelin was still following through when the sword caught him in the neck, ground against the spine. Then they were all on him. Tydeus had been a champion at duels, but fighting off a regiment single handedly was the sort of foolishness a bard dreams up and no real soldier believes. He covered himself with his shield, trying to step back to Podaleirus’s side. “Macedonians on the Sacred Way!” He found his voice “Macedonians climbing towards the Temple of the Amphion!”

And suddenly the men of Thebes were at his side. The farmers, freedmen, potters, dyers, herme-makers, sculptors, just like a normal day on the Agora, but with swords and knives and scythes in their hands. His throat was thick with emotion, whatever the Sacred Band had been, this was the true phalanx of Thebes. But he could see beyond them, more and more Macedonians thronging the Moon Gate. Not just Macedonians, Plataeans and other citizens of cities that had lurid histories with Thebes were part of the army, cutting people down in the street and charging into houses. “Position Change!” Tydeus roared, shoved the man beside him in his place and made for Podaleirus.

He was flat as a deer struck with a javelin, and it twitched with his breaths. Tydeus’s hope fled as he saw it was lodged in his left kidney. How could this happen? Podaleirus turned to him suddenly, like a spooked horse and spoke in gasping exhales “Go. Get Alkyone. Not Athens. Go to. Rhodes. Or Sardis. Ionians. And. Persians” “Shhhhh” He settled him in his arms. We lived through Charonea, Leuctra, fought alongside Epamonidas, saw Thebes become the star of Boeotia and then Greece… to be speared in the back by a Macedonian dog. “Get out. Now. Leave me. I… did this.” He blames himself for financing the rebellion, Tydeus thought. “Shhh, no the Macedonians did.” But it was too late, the blankness was coming over his eyes and his muscles gave their last jerks. My brother. My erastes. The cold fury came over him then, only once before had he felt it, when Podaleirus had been wounded in the Lacedamonian campaign. But now it was worse, so much worse. He wrapped him in his chlamys, dropped his shield to balance the weight, and sprinted up to the Temple.

Alkyone tugged a curled tendril. It was already limp and had been uneven anyway. She’d had to do the curling herself after all the slaves have been requisitioned for the extra work to defend the city, then freed. Gods knew that Thraka could probably kill people as well as she curled hair, she had heard Thracians trained their women like men. I wish I had some training, or a sword, or even a curling stone Alkyone reflected. Stuck in the temple amongst the other high born ladies and some priests she felt like a bullock in the slaughter pen. The dark sidelong looks coming her way from everyone else weren’t helping either. Her father had promised to bring back Athenian aid before he left last week, but no one had expected Alexander the Macedonian to come down the coast so quickly.

“Stand up tall as a beacon, you are a Podaleirid descended from Aphrodite (Asklepios??), and it is up to you to keep the people’s spirits up” he had said before he left. Well she was standing tall, only because if she bent only a little she was sure she would topple over and vomit. The bright saffron dyed veil she had chosen looked enough like a beacon, she saw to her chagrin that most women had chosen more somber dress. Most of her clothes were still in the house they had been staying at in Athens for the past 3 years since Macedon defeated the combined might of Athens and Thebes. Father had bought her the veil when the news had come that their old King Phillip had been killed. “Soon you’ll be wearing this on the slopes of the Kithairon for the Daedala again, little dove” her father had said, but the king’s young son hadn’t been the pushover everyone had bargained for.

She saw a priestess of Athena give a meaningful look to her companion and caught the word “abandoned.” No, father would never abandon us, abandon me, she thought, he said himself he was only bringing me back from Athens because he knew we could beat the Macedonians. But then, where was he? The din outside sounded like a festival day, but edged with bronze and clanging, like there was a whole parade of bronze beaters instead of just a few in a contingent. She wished she could just fly away like her pet heron she had released in the morning. Hopefully he’d be smart enough to fly back to the courtyard in Athens.

The din sounded so loud that when there was a thump on the door it was deafening. Everyone in the crowd gave a start, like flies on the beach buffeted in the wind. The old fat priest of Apollo squared his shoulders “This the ancient sacred precinct! No violence is to be done at the –“ “It’s Tydeus son of Medon” Alkyone felt a sigh of relief rise in her chest. Tydeus was practically her uncle, if he was here father must have sent him, everything would be alright! But then she saw his face, and the fresh stab of fear felt so much worse for the second’s respite. Once she had watched an old bear being baited, a rather poor show, he had just stood, huge and imposing, but with blank sad eyes. Tydeus had the same look about him, nothing but a huge bundle on his back. His eyes gazed around the crowd but looked past all of them at the same time. “…Tydeus?” she whispered, suddenly her throat was so tight she could hardly make a sound. His gaze snapped to her like a hawk to a song bird foolish enough to keep on singing “Alkyone! Come here! Come on!”

“Wait, what’s happening?!” The priest trailed in Tydeus’s wake, everyone moved aside as he walked towards her.

“The Moon Gate was breached, and the garrison got free.” So many gasped at once it sounded like a wind gust.

“But our men are fighting in the street! And the Athenians and Spartans have arrived?” The portly priest pushed his way in front of Tydeus, who turned his mad bear look upon him. “They’re sitting in the hills watching it happen. Alkyone –“ He grabbed her arm.

“So what are you doing?” The priests normally deep voice had risen to a hysterical octave “Grabbing your family and leaving? You coward! We agreed to fight to the last man!” He went to hit Tydeus’s unprotected side, but he just buffeted him with his other arm and knocked the priest flat. “The sacrilege—in the Amphion—“ he sputtered as Tydeus pulled Alkyone along and stepped over him. Suddenly everyone’s voices raised to compete with his. “What do you mean they’re not coming—“”Coward!” “Please take me too!” “Go back and fight, we can still win!” She saw one woman take out her pins and step forward threateningly. “Get ready to run” Tydeus said without looking at her. Alkyone nodded numbly at empty air. So we had lost but father hadn’t abandoned me. I was just going to have to run through a siege to god knows where.

Some irate woman had torn her veil nearly in half before they got to the outside columns of the temple. Alkyone’s chest felt too tight. It was like that awful day after Charonea but a hundredfold worse. At least there had still been some sunlight left when the runners had come calling out the calamitous news. And when the people cried out in the agora, it was only from grief than physical pain. And when she had fled with her oika, at least when she looked back the towers and pillars of Thebes stood strong against the twilight sky. Now, as Tydeus half led, half dragged her towards the Clay Gate she could see the ruins of the barracks corner, houses set a-light and carts being plundered. It was all too much when, as she choked back a wail, Tydeus muttered “Good.” “What could possibly be good?!” Alkyone keened. Gods, I sounded like a fury. “They’re all pouring into the side gate so the walls are no longer surrounded” his voice sounded too eerily calm and consistent, like a steady wind in the blustery autumn. “But how will we get the gate open by ourselves?” The closest gate to the Cadmeia was opened with several men; it was 5 times the height of a man. “There are ways for just two people to scale a wall.” They stopped at the wooden gatehouse, pasted to the wall like a swallow’s nest. Within Alkyone saw coils of rope and a narrow stairway. Pressing to the top of the stairs, Tydeus secured his bundle to a large basket attached to the ropes. “What is all this?” “Getting grain in and out during seiges. The boys were getting it ready, thinking it would take longer to breach…” Running over a pulley, the rope slowly lowered the basket to the other side of the wall. When it returned, Tydeus gestured for her to get in. It was a large enough basket to fit comfortably. When she was lowered, Tydeus called down, trying to keep quiet but have his voice carry at the same time “Wait a bit for me, I need to find the counterweight,” and left her view.

The large bundle he had carried sat opposite. Thank Hera for Tydeus, he knows just what to do and he brought supplies. What could be in there? She folded back a corner and felt bile climb her throat. A few fingers stuck out, just the brother and sister finger, but each had golden granulated rings, with swirling patterns etched in her memory. “Father?” The word wouldn’t come out. She pulled the cloak back further. The hand felt strange, not cold but just lukewarm. She heard the basket scrape along the wall but she couldn’t look up. She could barely see Tydeus cover the hand again through her tears. When he picked him back up and put him on his shoulders she just gazed down at the flattened grass. “What- what happened? Who killed him?” Suddenly that seemed extremely important. “Some Macedonian. I killed him.” Alkyone looked up. Tydeus had tears on his face too, and that horrible far away bear look. “But it was Alexander who truly killed him. He’ll have to die too.”

A harsh call rang out, closer than either of them had expected. “We have to go” Tydeus said, marching ahead. “But Athens is the other way!” “We’re not going back to Athens, after they see this, they’ll be ready to lick that Macedonian’s cavalry boots. Anyone related to the rebels will get thrown to the wolves.” “What?!” But my clothes, my jewelry, my pet heron... “We’re going to Ionia. Sardis will be safe enough. We’ll lie low until the Great King of Persia shows the Boy King some discipline.” Alkyone got up, shivering slightly. Her rent veil wasn’t much protection against the year’s end chill. Ionia.

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#333 bc #Alkyone

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