Book 13
1
Dear me, Alexander, you dead like the rest of us?
1
As you see, sir; is there anything extraordinary in a mortal’s dying?
1
So Ammon lied when he said you were his son; you were Philip’s after all.
1
Apparently; if I had been Ammon’s, I should not have died.
1
Strange! there were tales of the same order about Olympias too. A serpent visited her, and was seen in her bed; we were given to understand that that was how you came into the world, and Philip made a mistake when he took you for his.
1
Yes, I was told all that myself; however, I know now that my mother’s and the Ammon stories were all moonshine.
1
Their lies were of some practical value to you, though; your divinity brought a good many people to their knees.
2
But now, whom did you leave your great empire to?
2
Diogenes, I cannot tell you. I had no time to leave any directions about it, beyond just giving Perdiccas my ring as I died, Why are you laughing?
2
Oh, I was only thinking of the Greeks’ behaviour; directly you succeeded, how they flattered you! their elected patron, generalissimo against the barbarian; one of the twelve Gods according to some; temples built and sacrifices offered to the Serpent’s son!
3
If I may ask, where did your Macedonians bury you?
3
I have lain in Babylon a full month to-day; and Ptolemy of the Guards is pledged, as soon as he can get a moment’s respite from present disturbances, to take and bury me in Egypt, there to be reckoned among the Gods.
3
I have some reason to laugh, you see; still nursing vain hopes of developing into an Osiris or Anubis! Pray, your Godhead, put these expectations from you; none may reascend who has once sailed the lake and penetrated our entrance; Aeacus is watchful, and Cerberus an awkward customer.
