"I am accused of exhausting you and dragging you into endless wars. I am accused of wanting to conquer the world. I am accused of spreading Macedonian glory to the very outposts of humanity. Soldiers, think of those who stayed in our native land and who are watching you! Aging men who envy you because you are marching with the greatest army in the world; children who dream of giving war cries on the battlefield; wives adorned with the gold you have sent them; and mothers weeping with pride when they hear of your victories.

"You, my young, strong, beautiful soldiers, are you already thinking of going home? Are you ready to renounce being masters of the world; would you prefer to go back and plow fields, tend sheep, and die of old age in a bed? Are you not afraid of being called cowards, weaklings, deserters? Are you not afraid to hear people muttering when you walk along the street: That's the man who left Alexander, he's hiding at home while his brothers, with a shield in one fist and a lance in the other, throw themselves at enemy ramparts and die in battle!

"Soldiers of Macedonia, in your footsteps cultures blend together, languages intertwine, children are born with the intelligence of the Jews, the refinement of the Persians, and the vitality of the Macedonians. In a thousand years, in ten thousand years, people will still sing of our magnificent army, and your names will be engraved in all eternity.

"As King of Asia, I lived as a simple soldier, you know that. All that is mine also belongs to you. I am your reason, your every word; you are my acts, my hope, the realization of who I am. My army and I are but one! What I want is what you want too: a path carved out by our weapons, a wide road to the very foot of the sun.

"To achieve this unprecedented conquest we need the help of the Greeks. We also need the Persians whom we defeated by our strength and converted by our ambition. The differences in language, customs, religion, and gods mean nothing. Alexander unites them in this one truth: without him, warriors are merely instruments of death. With him they are a celebration of life!

"Come now, soldiers, repeat after me:

"Weariness is fleeting.

"Nostalgia can be defeated.

"Courage is our strength.

"The Indus River is roaring, calling to us!"

The sun was obstructed by trees so vast that seven soldiers with open arms could not encircle them. Their gnarled branches wrapped in lichen and fungus stretched out horizontally, bearing roots that hung down to the ground. Creepers wider than a man's thigh clung round their trunks, entwining them to fill the gaps and reach the skies. We were lost, turning round in circles and coming back to where we had set off. Maps had betrayed us, and trading posts had long since disappeared. Instead of paths there were leaves, round, oval, serrated, shaped like feathers, hands, lances; and flowers, their seeping, gleaming, tufted throats exhaling a sweet, fetid perfume.

My soldiers broke through the vegetation with axes and swords. We all suffered the same discomforts as leeches dropped from the trees and gathered on every patch of bare skin. When we tore one off, another arrived, still more thirsty for blood. Our legs were nicked by venomous thorns, and the swelling and itching spread all over our bodies. We scratched ourselves till we broke the skin. Some soldiers were bitten by snakes and died of sudden fever; others forgot my orders and rushed to drink from ponds, only to succumb to debilitating diarrhea.

Seeing our expedition reduced to endless suffering, I took out a map, traced a straight line all the way to the Indus, and ordered my men to set fire to the trees where they formed impenetrable walls. The flames broke through the trees, and sunlight poured into the forest. Tigers, monkeys, snakes, and clouds of birds fled the columns of smoke. Near-naked men with tattooed faces and piercings in their ears and noses emerged from their hiding places in the luxurious vegetation, brandishing weapons.

Whistling arrows, the screams of men fighting, and the clash of weapons woke me from the torpor of that wearying march. Turning a deaf ear to my advisers, who begged me to keep to the rear, I headed up the Macedonian troops to give my men courage and strength. But the fighting was more difficult here: my troops were used to confrontations in formation and were thrown by these men coming down from the branches, appearing from the undergrowth, and vanishing up rock faces. Their archers clung to creepers and jumped from tree to tree without putting a foot to the ground, and their trained monkeys threw themselves at our soldiers and bit their faces.

On the ninth day our men abandoned their horses, and the enemy no longer needed to take refuge in the trees. The injured fought to the death, and the living, covered in blood, went on slitting each other's throats in appalling hand-to-hand combat. I had lost my helmet, my lance, and my sword but grabbed the king of the savages and we rolled to the ground, his hands squeezing my throat. I saw stars against a dazzling white sky. As I struggled to free myself, I kneed him: my vision cleared and the enemy's hairy fingers released their grip. I gathered the last of my strength, raised myself to my knees, and shattered his skull with a rock I grasped. His hideous face grew bigger and bigger as I hammered at his head, screaming, while his brains oozed over my fingers. His eyes rolled upward, his lips drew back to reveal yellow teeth, and he breathed the unbearable exhalation of death over me.

For three days after that battle I shut myself away in the darkness of my tent and saw no one. I lay inert on my bed, surrounded by dancing flames. The fires of the shades encircled me; yellow flames burned me, blue flames chilled me to the marrow, black flames devoured me, and I ran screaming-there was fire everywhere. A wave of it swept over me, followed by another, and in the middle of those flames were dark, silent, icy corridors. I was burning but I was cold, fleeing while my teeth chattered. Every now and then I remembered I was Alexander, but the flames laughed and growling voices chorused:

The sun, where is the sun?

Where is Apollo who made me invincible? The flames grimaced at me and danced frenetically while the voices rang out:

"I don't want to be destroyed!" I cried out. "I am Alexander! I am the king of all men, let me go!"

But still the flames held me, stifling me. Voices whispered to me, saying there was no escape; I struggled and prayed to Apollo to send me his rays. Suddenly a beam of light pierced the shadows. I clung to it like a ladder, climbing back toward life, only to find I was lying in my tent in total darkness.

Feeling my way, I stood up, then tripped, fell and stood again. I opened the door and saw shapes coming toward me. Thinking they were talking flames, I took a step back. Then my eyesight cleared, and I recognized Hephaestion, Crateros, Cassander, and Bagoas.

"We greet you," they cried respectfully. "We greet you, Alexander, King of Asia, and wish you a long life!"

I came back to my senses under my friends' watchful eyes and surrounded by gleaming weapons.

"Bring me food!" I ordered. "I want to eat this life, to devour it. Bring me drink! I want feasting and drunkenness!"

My eunuchs came running, my pages busied themselves. Soon there were tables laden with fruit, meat, pitchers, and goblets. Generals, commanders, and a whole display of beautiful young men lounged on soft carpets. I took the first young man I liked in my arms, and the heat of his youthful body warmed my limbs that still felt so cold; his kisses made me forget the burning scars. I gave him orders to press mangoes, grapefruit, and pineapple over my face, showering me with the sugar of life as I inhaled the fragrance of nature. For tomorrow, under the ground, the sky will be black forever and there will be no more pleasure.