Time’s Eye

Alexander chose to wait a day before entering the city itself. He wanted to see if the dignitaries of the city would come out to greet him. Nobody came. He sent out scouts to survey the city walls and its surroundings. They returned safe but, Bisesa thought, they looked shocked.

Time slices or not, Alexander was going to enter the ancient city in the grand style. So, early in the morning, wearing his gold-embroidered cloak and his royal diadem on his head, he rode ahead toward the city walls, with Hephaistion walking at his side, and a phalanx of a hundred Shield Bearers around him, a rectangle of ferocious muscle and iron. The King showed no sign of the pain the effort to ride must be causing him; once again Bisesa was astounded by his strength of will.

Eumenes and other close companions walked in a loose formation behind the King. Among this party were Captain Grove and his senior officers, a number of British troops, and Bisesa and the Birdcrew. Bisesa felt oddly self-conscious in the middle of this grand procession, for she and the other moderns towered over the Macedonians, despite the finery of their dress uniforms.

The city’s walls were impressive enough in themselves, a triple circuit of baked brick and rubble that must have stretched twenty kilometers around, all surrounded by a moat. But there were no signs of life—no smoke from fires, no soldiers watching vigilantly from the towers—and the great gates hung open.

Eumenes muttered, “It was different last time, on Alexander’s first entry to the city. The satrap rode out to meet us. The road was strewn with flowers, and soldiers came out with tame lions and leopards in cages, and priests and prophets danced to the sound of harps. It was magnificent! It was fitting! But this …”

This, conceded Bisesa, was scary.

Alexander, per his reputation, led by example. Without hesitating he walked his horse over the wooden bridge that spanned the moat, and approached the grandest of the gates. This was a high-arched passage set between two heavy square towers.

The procession followed. Even to reach the gate they had to walk up a ramp to a platform perhaps fifteen meters above ground level. As Bisesa walked through it, the gate itself towered twenty meters or more above her head. Every square centimeter of its walls was covered in glazed brickwork, a haunting royal blue surface across which dragons and bulls danced.

Ruddy walked with his head tilted back, his mouth gaping open. Still a little “seedy” from his illness, he walked uncertainly, and Josh kindly took his arm to lead him. “Can this be the Ishtar Gate? Who would have thought—who would have thought …”

The city was laid out in a rough rectangle, its plan spanning the Euphrates. Alexander’s party had entered from the north, on the east side of the river. Inside the gate, the procession moved down a broad avenue that ran south, passing magnificent, baffling buildings, perhaps temples and palaces. Bisesa glimpsed statues, fountains, and every wall surface was decorated with dazzling glazed bricks and molded with lions and rosettes. There was so much opulence and detail she couldn’t take it all in.

The phone, peeking out of her pocket, tried to help. “The complex to your right is probably the Palace of Nebuchadnezzar. Babylon’s greatest ruler, who—”

“Shut up, phone.”

Casey was hobbling along. “If this is Babylon, where are the Hanging Gardens?”

“In Nineveh,” said the phone dryly.

“No people,” said Josh uncertainly. “I see some damage—signs of fires, looting, perhaps even earthquake destruction—but still no people. It’s getting eerie.”

“Yeah,” growled Casey. “All the lights on but nobody at home.”

“Have you noticed,” said Abdikadir quietly, “that the Macedonians seem overwhelmed too? And yet they were here so recently …”

It was true. Even wily Eumenes peered around at the city’s immense buildings with awe.

“It’s possible this isn’t their Babylon either,” said Bisesa.

The party began to break up. Alexander and Hephaistion, with most of the guard, made for the royal palace, back toward the gate. Other parties of troops were instructed to spread out through the city and search for inhabitants. The officers’ cries rang out peremptorily, echoing from the glazed walls of the temples; de Morgan said they were warning their men of the consequences of looting. “But I can’t imagine anybody will dare touch a thing in this haunted place!”