Chapter 28
We stood at attention as a horse-drawn carriage bore Calanus, who was too ill to walk, to the pyre. An honor guard carried his litter to the top, as if he were already dead. Then its members lit the fire and, as the guard flung incense on the flames, choking the air with a sweet, putrid smell, Calanus burned to death without so much as a whimper.
“By Zeus,” Ptolemy marveled. “What control.”
“What bunk,” Cassander huffed.
“For once, I agree with Cassander,” Hephaestion said, surprising us all. “It’s one thing to go off to battle, knowing at any moment you might die. But to seek death by your own hand before your time is womanish.”
“Who’s to say it’s before his time?” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I do not judge.”
Days before Calanus had insisted on accompanying me,
