THE VENETIAN BETRAYAL
By
STEVE BERRY


TIMELINE OF RELEVANT EVENTS

JULY 20, 356 BCE


Alexander of Macedonia is born.

336 BCE


Philip II is murdered.




Alexander becomes king.

334 BCE


Alexander crosses into Asia Minor and begins his conquests.

SEPTEMBER 326 BCE


The Asia campaign ends in India when Alexander’s army revolts.




Alexander returns west.

OCTOBER 324 BCE


Hephaestion dies.

JUNE 10, 323 BCE


Alexander dies in Babylon.




His generals divide the empire.




Ptolemy claims Egypt.

321 BCE


Alexander’s funeral cortege leaves for Macedonia.




Ptolemy attacks the procession.




The body is taken to Egypt.

305 BCE


Ptolemy is crowned pharaoh.

283 BCE


Ptolemy dies.

215 BCE


Ptolemy IV erects the Soma to house Alexander’s remains.

100 CE


St. Mark is martyred in Alexandria, his body hidden.

391 CE


The Soma is destroyed and Alexander the Great vanishes.

828 CE


St. Mark’s body is stolen from Alexandria by Venetian merchants, taken to Venice, and stored in the Doge’s palace, its whereabouts lost over time.

JUNE 1094 CE


Body of St. Mark reappears in Venice.

1835 CE


St. Mark is moved from the crypt to beneath the main altar of the basilica that bears his name.


PROLOGUE

BABYLON
MAY, 323 BCE

ALEXANDER OF MACEDONIA HAD DECIDED YESTERDAY TO KILL the man himself. Usually he delegated such tasks, but not today. His father had taught him many things that served him well, but one lesson above all he’d never forgotten.

Executions were for the living.

Six hundred of his finest guardsmen stood assembled. Fearless men who, in battle after battle, had surged head-on into opposing ranks or dutifully protected his vulnerable flank. Thanks to them the indestructible Macedonian phalanx had conquered Asia. But there’d be no fighting today. None of the men carried weapons or wore armor. Instead, though weary, they’d gathered in light dress, caps on their heads, eyes focused.

Alexander, too, studied the scene through unusually tired eyes.

He was leader of Macedonia and Greece, Lord of Asia, Ruler of Persia. Some called him king of the world. Others a god. One of his generals once said that he was the only philosopher ever seen in arms.

But he was also human.

And his beloved Hephaestion lay dead.

The man had been everything to him—confidant, cavalry commander, Grand Vizier, lover. Aristotle had taught him as a child that a friend was a second self, and that had been Hephaestion. He recalled with amusement how his friend had once been mistaken for him. The error caused a general embarrassment, but Alexander had only smiled and noted that the confusion over Hephaestion was unimportant for he, too, was Alexander.

He dismounted his horse. The day was bright and warm. Spring rains from yesterday had passed. An omen? Perhaps.

Twelve years he’d swept east, conquering Asia Minor, Persia, Egypt, and parts of India. His goal now was to advance south and claim Arabia, then west to North Africa, Sicily, and Iberia. Already ships and troops were being amassed. The march would soon begin, but first he had to settle the matter of Hephaestion’s untimely death.

He trod across the soft earth, fresh mud sucking at his sandals.

Small in stature, brisk in speech and walk, his fair-skinned, stocky body bore witness to countless wounds. From his Albanian mother he’d inherited a straight nose, a brief chin, and a mouth that could not help but reveal emotion. Like his troops, he was clean shaven, his blond hair unkempt, his eyes—one blue-gray, the other brown—always wary. He prided himself on his patience, but of late he’d found his anger increasingly hard to check. He’d come to enjoy being feared.

“Physician,” he said in a low voice, as he approached. “It is said that prophets are best who make the truest guess.”

The man did not reply. At least he knew his place.

“From Euripides. A play I much enjoy. But more is expected from a prophet than that, would you not say?”

He doubted Glaucias would reply. The man was wild-eyed with terror.

And he should be scared. Yesterday, during the rain, horses had bent the trunks of two tall palms close to the ground. There they’d been roped, the two lashings intertwined into a single binding, then fastened to another stout palm. Now the physician was tied in the center of the V formed by the trees, each arm secured to a rope, and Alexander held a sword.