Page 49 - 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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