A Darker God by Barbara Cleverly Read Free Book Online Page B

How they haunted him! In came the flutes and the horns, and Merriman was instantly transported, travelling the endless desert sands. He listened as the caravan conjured up by the composer drew near, entranced him with its exotic lyricism, passed by, and then disappeared into the heat haze. With a sigh of satisfaction, he put the recording on again and went to his desk.
    He sat down and took a new packet of pencils from his drawer. He sharpened one. He rolled back his sleeves and wiped his already damp palms on his handkerchief.
    On the first page he wrote with a defiant tilt of the head:
    D EDICATION:
    Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse,
And every conqueror creates a Muse
.
    The author dedicates this
Life and Death of Alexander of Macedon
to the Conqueror who is its subject and also to the Muse who is its inspiration.
    In the centre of the following line he added, with a grin:
“Alexander. Laetitia.”
    She wouldn’t like that. In fact, she’d hate it. It would alarm her. The colour would rise in her cheeks, her eyes would spark like flint. She’d flourish the word “hubris” about. And she’d be right. Professionally at least, the girl had always shown taste and a sense of proportion. There would be no persuading her to accept a dedication that bracketed her with a man she considered the world’s greatest megalomaniac. “Alexander! But he killed more men than the Kaiser! More than Napoleon! A power-crazed, egocentric, drunken butcher whose only redeeming features were a love of literature and horses” had been her diagnosis of the young god’s condition.
    Alexander. He’d been the occasion of Merriman’s first quarrel with Laetitia. The least deferential of any of the students Andrew mentored, she’d seized with delighted vindication on the information that Alexander considered himself descended from the mysterious sloe-eyed young man-god from the East: Dionysus. “Well, that explains a lot! Remind me, Professor, of his attributes … God of Wine, Drama, and Revelry, was it? Your hero certainly emulated the god! Nightly debauches for weeks, culminating in his death. According to his secretary, the Lord of the World was actually in mid-gulp when he was struck down with whatever was to kill him days later. Ruptured liver is what I’m betting! And the uncontrolled outbreaks of orgiastic frenzy? It’s not recorded that he actually tore men and animals to shreds with his teeth like the followers of Dionysus, but he did stab his friend Black Cleitus in a drunken fit of rage. And I prefer not to think about the thousands of innocents he had crucified and tortured.” She had constantly advised: “Look elsewhere for a subject, Andrew. Alexander is irredeemable!”
    And her opinion was unalterable. Ah, well, plenty of timeto change the dedication later. After he’d drawn out the pleasurable teasing.
    He touched a letter pushed deep into his trouser pocket. Her latest news. She was doing some worthwhile work in Crete and managing to have a happy time with that ecclesiastical sheepdog of hers. William Gunning. Renegade priest. Extraordinary pair! A highly unsuitable relationship and Andrew wondered if he’d done the right thing in encouraging it. It was he who’d brought about their separation initially, for selfish reasons he’d disguised as concern for Laetitia and then, regretting his action, he’d engineered their reunion in Crete. He’d pushed them onstage together like cardboard characters in a child’s toy theatre. Playing God—he knew he enjoyed the role more than was good for him. But perhaps one action had cancelled out the other? And perhaps it was all up to Fate anyway. And it did seem to have turned out well in the end. Andrew liked to know his friends were happy. He particularly liked to know Letty was happy.
    And, this morning, behind his locked door, he was going to have some fun with his writing.
    The first two thirds of the book were ready in manuscript form and sitting with his