Indian warriors brandishing swords erupted onto the steps. I, Ania, and the queen's Amazon guards ran to meet them with our daggers raised. They started dancing, and we danced with them by way of combat. Kristna's eyes shone; he was watching Alexander: the king, unruffled, smiled and clapped in time to the music.

The sun rose, and the banquet came to an end in feigned drunkenness and mutual mistrust. The two kings exchanged a good many polite niceties, bringing their hands together at chest height, touching their foreheads, and patting each other's shoulders with their left hands while keeping their right hands over their hearts. Kristna accompanied Alexander to the gates of the city, where Hephaestion was waiting for him impatiently. To thank him for such a sumptuous reception, Alexander called for two soldiers to offer his host a pair of gold-plated silver caskets. Inside them were two severed heads: astonishment turned to smiles when the Indian prince recognized them; then he knelt and swore loyalty to Alexander.

What was it that happened between those two men who barely spoke to each other all evening? I was told that the king had killed the Indian prince's sworn enemies before visiting him. Now hated by the Indian tribes, Kristna was forced to follow Alexander.

As soon as we were back at the encampment, Alestria lay down beside Alexander, and the two lovers spent the day asleep.

Alestria was exhausted.

Alexander was relieved.

The army set up camp and broke camp. We were hounded by groups of Indian warriors: arrows fell, elephants trumpeted, and men screamed in their native languages. These skirmishes erupted more rapidly than summer storms and abated just as quickly. Everyone knew that the king was marching toward one murderous battle. He had an appointment with Poros, a fine, strong Indian king. The two men had never met but had loathed each other through intermediary wars. Each of them had sworn he would have his rival's head and, with it, glory and immortality.

Rivers grew wider, becoming major waterways, and in between them paddy fields flashed like mirrors beneath the sky. Forests surrounded us, then opened out, only to swallow us up again in the shadows of their giant trees. The king rode, and the queen went with him. Side by side they marched toward the greatest war that Indian soil had ever seen.

Alexander gathered his troops on the banks of the Hydaspe.

The wide, peaceful river with its muddy waters glinted yellow. Soldiers and horses arrived along the earth track and down the river. Slaves set out from the encampment with picks. The king disappeared for days on end, and every time he returned, another regiment left to take up its position in the forest.

Alexander had set up a table in his tent, and on it he had had a model of the entire region made with its forests, rocks, rivers, and swamps. I, Ania, who slept in front of the tent to ensure the king and queen's safety, saw Alexander's shadow bending over that table. I could see Alestria's silhouette when she woke and joined her husband. Their two shadows met and forged into one. I no longer tried to decipher signs: I did not want to read the future. Alexander had sought out his wife in the kingdom of souls, and Alestria had followed him and come back to earth. According to steppe tradition, they were both already dead. They were both now living outside time.

Along the river crocodiles floated among broken branches, dead leaves, and pink water lilies. Tree trunks transformed into junks came and went, trailing long wakes of tiny eddies. A moon waxed and waned. Hephaestion, so calm by nature, grew nervous. Bagoas, always edgy and talkative, stopped chattering. Cassander thundered up on his horse, took his orders, and set off again. Persian commanders filed past in the same way. At night there were many sounds against the backdrop of rustling leaves: drum rolls, the wail of horns, and the cries of birds flying off in panic. I lay on my carpet with my ear to the ground, and heard heavy footsteps that made the very earth tremble. Poros and his allies were drawing close. Leading his elephants, the ape-men, and the best warriors in the Indies, Poros was marching on Alexander.

I coped badly with the heat and humidity and could not sleep. I got up and, by moonlight, sharpened the two daggers beaten by the People of the Volcano till their blades gleamed.

the earth rumbled, the forest shook, huge ancient trees parted like reeds. Monkeys and birds threw themselves into the air with piercing shrieks. Poros used drugs on his white elephants, and now they hurled themselves at Alexander's army. The soldiers fled while Cassander, dressed all in red, galloped at the head of the cavalry. Fired by the movement of troops, the enraged elephants chased the horses, trumpeting and trampling everything in their way. Cassander's division surged on into an almost dry riverbed, and, following them, the elephants sank into the sludge. Suddenly the waters swelled and changed into a torrent, spilling over the monsters and bearing them away. This was Alexander's doing: he had secretly had a dam built upstream and given Cas-sander orders to lure the elephants into the trap.

Columns of black smoke rose up and carved through the sky. Fires consumed vines and leaves, climbed up tree trunks, and spat out showers of sparks. Alexander had set fire to the forest, turning it into a labyrinth of flames. His troops marched along strips of land protected by trenches they had dug; they breached Poros's surrounding defenses and cut his army to pieces.

The massacre began. I, Ania, had been given orders by my queen to protect Alexander from any arrows that could potentially be aimed at him by his own generals. He was disguised as an ordinary cavalry soldier as he launched himself at the Indians, screaming. I was dressed as a man and followed behind him, brandishing my weapons. In all that furious killing I forgot the steppes, the birds, and my queen-whose husband had forbidden her to take part in battle. Riding on behind Alexander like his shadow, I lost count of how many Indians I brought down. Furious galloping alternated with pauses during which we wiped off blood, bandaged wounds, and ate hunks of bread. The nights were short: after we snatched some sleep the dawn was already there, casting its white light over the trees while the horns and drums sounded again, urging the men to kill each other to the last one standing.

Alexander searched frantically for Poros, but this war of kings was also a battle of look-alikes. In the distance I saw a number of Alexanders wearing his armor and riding various Bucephaluses. They chased after Poroses in their narrow chariots. For two days now the real King of Asia had been tracking down the Prince of the Indies, who, according to our prisoners, was wearing a slave's armor.

At the end of the third day we came across a group of warriors whose clothes were in shreds and whose horses were bleeding. They moved in a particular way that attracted Alexander's attention: he gave a great cry and carved a path for himself with his lance, swooping eagle-like on a slave who rode in the middle of the formation of Indians. The two men eyed each other. Both had bandaged wounds and had lost their helmets. Their faces were daubed with mud and blood, and the only thing alive in them was their glowering, shining eyes. They stared at each other for a moment as if each hoped he might kill his enemy with the ferocity and pride in his eyes; then they threw themselves at each other, screaming.

Alexander's sword wounded Poros's arm, and two Indian warriors came to help their master. They surrounded Alexander, and Poros ran away, but the king threw off his attackers and set off in pursuit of his prey. I let go of a man I was about to kill and rejoined Alexander in his headlong gallop. We followed Poros deep into a part of the forest that had not been burned. The sun was sinking, and this made Alexander nervous. Afraid that Poros might slip through his fingers at nightfall, he redoubled the pace and rushed into a circular meadow. Suddenly high-pitched whistling sounds rose up and interrupted the thunder of our horses' hooves. Arrows aimed at us were flying from the surrounding trees.