Although the veiled woman was heavy with child she walked with a firm step down the aisle which the soldiers had cleared for her. She was followed by four slaves carrying a palanquin upon which rested a great vessel of hammered gold. It was covered with a design of intertwined animals and plants in the Sythian fashion. As she knelt, the slaves placed the golden urn upon the offering table. To tell the truth, she cared little if Alexander lived or died, but he could not die now; it was the wrong time. She could neither read nor write and thought it improper for women to do so. In the urn was a bit of gold leaf with her mark on it, A little Persian star the name for which the tongue of the Greeks pronounced, Roxanne. *************************************************************************************************************** The news had reached Pergamum some time ago. on her balcony, a wealthy Persian lady of some influence sat watching her son Herakles, studying in the garden. She had not cried for years now. She stood and ladled some wine from the crater on the table into a little silver cup. Leaning over the railing, she poured the wine over the edge and onto the ground below. The boy looked up and smiled at his mother. He never knew how much that distinctive tilt to his head when he looked at her pierced her to the heart. He never would. Barsine turned her back to her son and walked into the house without a word.