Page 48 - Unlikely Stories 1

The Sage and the Conqueror

From Fantastic Transactions, volume 1 (1990)

Alexander’s path to India wound slowly through the crumbling
Persian Empire. His army rolled along irresistibly; Persepolis was left
a skeleton of stone, Balkh a crater of rubble. Late one morning an
outrider brought news of a kind particularly enjoyed by the
Macedonian warrior-king: not far from the line of march, atop a low
mountain, sat a monastery. Its abbot was reputed a man of great
wisdom and spiritual power. Alexander immediately placed command
in the hands of his generals and galloped off into the hills, trailed by
half a dozen retainers.
Those left in charge were not surprised; their leader was constantly
on the look-out for wise men, seeking them out along his trail of
conquest. They also expected him back for dinner: Alexander was a
far greater exposer of humbug than devotee of obscure metaphysics.
The monastery itself provided no features of interest to Alexander;
he banged on the gates with the hilt of his sword and demanded
entrance. Scurrying sounds came from within, but no movement of
lock or bar. Alexander’s horse stamped and snorted; he shouted
again, adding his name in a version well-known in those parts:
“Iskander!”
This time the portal opened. He leapt off his horse and handed the
reins to the nearest cringing monk. “Where is the abbot?” he
demanded.
The man silently indicated a small cell carved into the face of the
mountain. Alexander strode to it and peered into a dark sooty cavern.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he heard the clatter of his
followers’ horses in the courtyard behind him. He paid them no
heed; he knew this was no trap. He had already laid waste to several
monastic institutions, and could recognize the authenticity of the
place: poor, dirty, and crumbling, but radiating an aura of calm and
order.
Alexander spotted the abbot at the far end of the chamber. “I am
Alexander—Iskander.” he said. “Do you know who I am?”

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