Our eyes met.

‘Attalus is dead,’ Alexander said. ‘Parmenio had him killed. It happened two days ago.’ The king shrugged. ‘I suspect that you were, and are, right. He had to die. Much as I hate him, I could have used him. As I will use Lord Amyntas and Lord Parmenio.’ His eyes never left mine – like a lover’s. ‘But I saw Cleitus’s look when I ordered his death – and Hephaestion’s.’ He nodded slowly, eyes still locked on mine. ‘Listen, Ptolemy. The longer I am king, the less I will understand of what happens outside this tent. The more power I’ll have, the less information to help me use it. Think of Pater – Philip – in those last days. He didn’t even know that Attalus had had Pausanias raped.No one told him until you did.’

I nodded.

‘But he didn’t love you for telling him, and I’ll never love you for it, either. Kings don’t say “I’m sorry”, and they don’t say “You are right”. Eh?’

Eyes still locked.

‘Find a way to do it,’ he said, very quietly. ‘Find a way to keep me from . . . ignorance.’

I smiled.

‘But find a way to do it without making it a war between us. I am king.’ Alexander’s eyes bored into mine, and I realised that I was doing it – challenging him – refusing to break the eye contact.

Quite deliberately, I looked away. Then back, like a flirting girl.

He smiled. ‘Now I want you to bring your goddess for dinner. But first, I want you to swear me an oath that you do not now, nor will ever, seek the throne of Macedon.’

It was right there, the possibility of my indignation boiling over. Fuck him.How dare he? I’d nearly died for him – twice.

But he was the king, and he was not responsible for the shit people poured into his ears. I knelt. ‘I swear by Zeus, lord of the gods, lord of slaves and kings, Zeus of the eagle, Zeus of the thunderbolt, may I be burned to invisible ash and no man ever remember my name if I have ever sought the throne of Macedon, or ever do so in future.’

Alexander put his hand on my shoulder and crushed it, his grip was so hard. He left a bruise.

‘Thank you,’ he said very quietly. ‘I cannot give you the hypaspists. What do you want?’

I had Thaïs. ‘I’ll go back to my squadron of Hetaeroi,’ I said.

Alexander nodded. ‘Excellent. Perhaps you and Laodon would put in some time improving the grooms, as well. Now – the goddess?’

Cleitus, who could hear every word, held the flap, and Thaïs came in. She was wearing a wool chiton, very plain; a long riding cloak of transparent wool, so light it flowed like silk, and a hat woven of bleached straw, very fine and also white. She was the only woman I knew who owned a pair of Boeotian boots made to her size – open-toed, for riding. She still had her long whip in her hand. Upon entering, she unpinned her hat and made a deep obeisance. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘You will not remember me. We met at a party.’

‘Ah – I would be unlikely ever to forget you, Despoina.’ He inclined his head gravely. ‘Your presence here is a triumph for Macedon – we have taken the finest thing Athens ever had.’

‘But my lord,’ she said, ‘Athens never had me – I am an Athenian, and I am here of my own free will. I am not an object – I am here to be a subject.’

Alexander looked at me. ‘I’ve seldom been corrected so gently. Perhaps you might teach Ptolemy your arts?’

‘Well,’ she said, and her eyelashes fluttered, ‘I could try, but women of my sort seldom train a potential rival, and Lord Ptolemy is already a very good companion.’

Alexander, who never, ever spoke of sex, blushed. And then laughed, because her joke was so subtle – the Greek word for courtesan was hetaera, but it was merely the feminine form of Hetaeroi – our word for the king’s bodyguard – his companions. Damn it – that’s funny, lad! She was comparing courtesans and bodyguards . .

Never mind. You’re too young. The king laughed his arse off, and that didn’t happen often.

‘Would we shock the world if we had the Lady Thaïs to dinner tonight?’ Alexander asked Hephaestion.

He looked at me as if to say I told you so.‘No ambassadors. Possibly the last night it’s just the army. So I’d say yes.’

It was quite a dinner. Thebes rose behind us like the backdrop for an Athenian tragedy. Because of Thaïs, the talk was light and witty and educated. Bad as we Macedonian barbarians might be, we had all been educated by Aristotle, and even Perdiccas and Cassander could manage to sound vaguely like men of culture.

Thaïs helped them. She had a way of capping a quote before a man could finish it – as if she understood that he was going to say something erudite, and she loved to help him finish. Cleitus, for example, struggled to participate. Thaïs always liked Cleitus – almost always – and that first night, as he stuttered through a quote from the Odyssey, she smiled.

‘With you quoting Odysseus’s part, I suppose I must respond with Penelope’s,’ she said.

His relief was obvious – he got the credit for a good quote and she’d done all the work.

It’s not the best example, just the best one I remember.

She smiled around the company. ‘But I don’t want to stay at home like Penelope. If you, my lords, are going to Troy, I want to go!’

Alexander smiled and shook his head. ‘The queen of the Amazons fought for Asia,’ he said.

‘Who needs to be bound by the classics?’ she said. ‘And what of Atlante? Eh? Or Athena? Not that I compare myself to the grey-eyed, but still.’

Hephaestion smiled. ‘What would you do, in a camp of soldiers, lady?’

Thaïs smiled, and Hephaestion blushed. She never said a word. He looked away, and Alexander blushed.

‘Laundry,’ Thaïs said.

Her timing was beautiful, and the whole tent burst into an approving roar. I’d seen her at work in a symposium in Athens, and so had Alexander, but none of the others had, and they had no idea how powerful was her command of song and speech. She gave them a taste – sang a few popular love songs to her own accompaniment on the kithara – but she intended to remain a guest and not a performer, and she declined to play more.

Alexander came to her couch after she had sung, and sat on the end. ‘You spoke of our crusade in Asia,’ he said.

‘Ptolemy speaks of little else,’ she allowed. ‘And men in Athens – my friends, like Diodorus and Kineas and their faction. Men say that you will throw down the Great King, and make all Asia subject.’

He breathed in sharply, like a woman at the climax of love. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘But I love to hear it coming from you.’

She smiled. ‘When your crusade marches – will you let me accompany you?’

Alexander laughed. ‘After one evening, lady, I think we would beg you to accompany us.Ask me another boon – anything you like. Your presence will enhance every dull evening on campaign. You make my officers better men just by being here. Perhaps this is what Helen brought.’’

‘Anything?’ Thaïs asked, and her voice was suddenly . . . odd.

Alexander caught it – but the need to be Achilles and Agamemnon rolled into one always took over from common sense. ‘Anything.’

She nodded. ‘May Zeus hear you, Lord King. May we all some day be where I might have my boon. For now, I ask nothing.’

Alexander loved a moment of drama. ‘I swear it by Zeus, by Herakles and by the River Styx.’

Cleitus sat up on his couch. ‘I heard the shears of Moira – that oath went to Olympus.’

What I noticed was that Alexander did not swear by his father, Philip. A month ago, he had.

That night, I lay with Thaïs in my own tent. She had her own, but she wanted to play, as she called it, and we made love – slowly – under my cloak. She was quiet and careful.

And in the morning, her head was on my shoulder when I awoke. The smile that came to my face stayed all day.

Even when, about midday, when Polystratus brought me sausage and leeks where I was drilling the grooms, he said, ‘People need to sleep.’