Alexander gave the order for two wreaths to be fashioned, and for oil to be brought forward. The rest of the men he dismissed to start pitching their tents for the overnight camp.

Like their ancestors before him, they would race naked and smeared with oil in the traditional fashion.

Alexander's hands unfastened the girdle around Hephaestion's waist and watched as his chlamys fell away. Hephaestion's physique was impeccable. His legs were lean and toned, with well-rounded calfs and strong, solid thighs. His abdomen was trim and muscled, his chest broad and his arms corded with muscle. Alexander would have liked to map out each battle scar, but Hephaestion was raring to go.

He knocked Alexander's shoulder, who rushed to slip out of his own clothing.

Alexander poured olive oil from the small, globular flask and began to coat Hephaestion's skin with it. The sun was a ball of fire sinking in the river, and the light set Hephaestion's skin aglow like burnished bronze. Alexander's hands were slow and thorough. He slathered himself next, and the two toed off their sandals, leaving them by the pile of clothes. How very unlike a king he was, Alexander was aware. A king's clothing could not for a moment be in a state of disarray, nor would he ever deign to race naked with his friend. And yet, sensing the importance of the moment, no man dared mock him. Nor did one dare lay eyes upon their exposed king or his companion.

Alexander's lip curled up when Hephaestion turned keen, shining eyes on him. When the garlands were ready, they were placed on their heads.

They raced. Their footfalls were light against the sand, which gave way to grass and dirt. They flew like birds, and Alexander whooped with exhilaration. They were children once more.

They were neck-and-neck, until Hephaestion won by a hair.

Upon seeing the tombs, Alexander fell to his knees. He recalled how Achilles dragged the body of Patroclus' murderer thrice around Patroclus' tomb, the twelve Trojan youths he scarified and all the animals he slaughtered at the funeral, the ire with which he razed the Trojans. Wordlessly, Hephaestion knelt beside him.

Alexander wondered if Patroclus stared at Achilles when they stood side by side at the siege of Troy.

After a reverent stretch of silence, Alexander rose to his feet and made his way towards the tomb of Achilles. He laid his wreath before it, and Hephaestion did the same before the tomb of Patroclus.

Reconvening, Alexander grasped Hephaestion in a fierce embrace, knocking the breath out of the already winded man.

"You are more dear to me than any other," he breathed into Hephaestion's hair. Hephaestion's embrace was crushing as he echoed Alexander's words with ardour.

They raced once more, circling once around the tombs, and this time Hephaestion won by a stretch.

Alexander tackled him to the ground and they wrestled, until Hephaestion pinned Alexander between his thighs and the latter laid back, panting and content.

"There you are, my brave warrior, the conquerer Alexander, right where you belong." Hephaestion was breathless and grinning.

Alexander laughed, closing his eyes.

"Oh, what Ptolemy must be writing of us in his memoirs at this moment."

Hephaestion planted his hands on either side of Alexander's head.

"I wish we could be remembered forever, Alexander. Just like this."

Alexander smoothed his hands along Hephaestion's thighs, up his taut torso and broad chest, to frame his face. His sinewy muscle gleamed in the golden glow of dusk.

"We will." He cupped the back of Hephaestion's head and gingerly, ever so slowly, drew his mouth down onto his own.

***

Alexander's army was victorious against the Persian forces at the Battle of the Granicus, which marked the beginning of his conquest of Asia Minor.

Alexander met with his leaders, Cleitus, Hephaestion, Calas, Hegelochus and Ptolemy to discuss their next move. As always, the king looked to Hephaestion for confirmation and approval.

Parmenion suggested that they cross the river upstream and attack at dawn the next day, but Hephaestion - who could sway the king with only a look - advised Alexander not to wait.

Alexander ordered an immediate attack, which caught the Persians by surprise. He sought out Hephaestion's face, who nodded at him in reassurance as he put on his helmet.

They fought as a team.

At one point, however, Alexander lost sight of him. Distracted, he was stunned by an axe-blow even as another Persian was poised to attack him from behind when Cleitus severed the man's outstretched arm. The Persians, seeing their leaders fall and their infantry routed, retreated.

Alexander then continued along the Ionian coast, and began to realize his dream. He freed the people, all of whom lived as slaves under Persion rule. To every city he encountered along the coast he gave autonomy and democracy. At night, in his tent, he spoke to Hephaestion of his goal to unite all the countries of the world.

Miletus would not be as easy a conquest, due to Persian naval forces providing heavy fortification. Alexander waged his first large-scale seige further south at Halicarnassus, in Caria. It was successful, and his opponents withdrew by sea. He then continued into Lycia and the Pamphylian plain, taking every coastal city from the Persian naval bases.

After taking the Pisidian city, though not by storm, Alexander arrived at Gordium. There, the fabled ox-cart stood in the palace of the Phrygian kings, tightly fastened in place by many, tightly-tangled knots. He gazed upon the infamous Gordian Knot and tried in vain to loosen it, for an oracle had prophesied that whoever could unravel the knots would become the king of all Asia.

"Pull the linchpin from the yoke," Ptolemy suggested.

"Pull the knot out of the pole pin; then you can untie it easily," another recommended.

At the same time as Alexander was trying all of this, Hephaestion quipped: "why does it matter how the knot is loosened?"

In a flash of inspiration, Alexander draw his sword and slew the knot in a single stroke.

Word spread like wildfire: Alexander was to be king over all Asia. His fame had been growing steadily, but it now exploded like an inferno.

Even the philosopher Diogenes of Sinope sent Alexander a letter.

The king retired to his bed to read it in private, as was his wont. Among its contents was the following advice.

"If you wish to be beautiful and good, throw away the rag you have in your head and come to us. Yet you will not be able to do so, for you are held fast by Hephaistion's thighs."

Alexander read and re-read the letter. Then he set to writing a response, figuring that he should, at the very least, teach Diogenes the proper spelling of Hephaestion's name.

***

Next in his conquest of the Persian empire was Syria, which he targeted the next spring. Alexander was now twenty-three.

He crossed the Taurus and entered Cilicia. Months later, he reached the city of Tarsus. He was hot and dusty from the fast-paced march, so he paused the expedition to swim in the the river that flowed through the town, the Cydnus. Hephaestion went with him.

They raced, as they used to do when they were boys.

But Alexander suffered a sudden spasm of his body, and immediately paled. Hephaestion dragged him to the store and knelt over him. He was pale and chilled, but breathing. They carried him into his tent and proceeded to attend to him with great care. The king had developed a fever, which Hephaestion sought to sooth with cool compresses to his face. Hephaestion lay by his side at night, but the king could not sleep. When Alexander learned that King Darius was on his way to Cilicia from Babylon, he was overcome with anxiety. The physicians despaired of his life. Philip the Acarnian came forward with a potion and administered it to Alexander. Shortly thereafter, Alexander began to experience difficulty breathing, and loss of his senses. When he fell into unconsciousness, Hephaestion wept by his bed, shaking his still-breathing body and kissing it with ardent fervour. If Alexander left him, he promised, then he had no desire to continue living. Hephaestion tore at his hair, his clothes, and refused to eat or drink. It wasn't supposed to be this way. His sobs were heard in every tent.

What ailed the king was a mystery. The king had complained of backaches, and he had been been over-working while under-eating. They also learned from the locals that the swamps and lagoons of the Cilician area were deadly in the summer and autumn, though no one knew why.

When Alexander regained consciousness, Hephaestion's drained face was the first he saw. This time Hephaestion wept for joy. The camp was able to sleep in peace and quiet for the first time in a week.

Hephaestion and the physicians gradually nursed Alexander back to health, but it would be two months before he appeared before his troops again.

The men cheered uproariously when their king, healthy again, ordered a march on Syria.

Darius' army outnumbered his, but when he returned to Cilicia, he was confident.

Hephaestion spent the night with him in his tent. He left briefly at dawn to relieve himself. As he pulled back the tent flaps to re-enter, he sighed:

"Alexander, we should get to our posts-"

His eyes widened when he noticed Eumenes and the other generals congregated with Alexander. They stared at Hephaestion in shock, while Hephaestion's face burned.

Alexander's army defeated Darius in the battle at Issus. Darius fled, and his army disintegrated. Shortly thereafter, Alexander received a letter from him, offering a ransom for his family and a peace treaty diving his lands. Alexander swiftly responded that, as the new king of Asia, he would be the one to make such territorial decisions - not Darius.