Alexander (Vol. 3) (Alexander Trilogy) by Valerio Massimo Manfredi Page A

reins from his groom. The camp was bustling with activity: everywhere orders were being shouted, squadrons of cavalry were taking up position, the infantry divisions were lining up in their marching formation. Alexander leaped on to Bucephalas and spurred him on to the very tip of the Vanguard, which was already lined up to perfection. Hephaestion took up position alongside. Just behind was Leonnatus – completely dressed in metal, his great cleaver held firmly in his hand – and at his side was Ptolemy. Behind them were Lysimachus, Seleucus and Philotas, coming before the rest of the squadron and the other divisions of the hetairoi cavalry. Ahead of everyone and out on the left flank the Thracians and Agrianians ran on foot, then came the battalions of the phalanx and a division of shock troops led by their commanders: Koinos, at the head of the very first, then Perdiccas, Meleager, Simmias and Polyperchon. Craterus, last of all, was in command of the Thessalians. Out on the right the eight battalions of the Greek allies were already in marching formation, followed by a long tail of Thracian and Triballian foot soldiers, extending back as far as the royal tents and supplies.
    The King raised his hand and the trumpets gave the signal for them to set off. The Vanguard started at a walk behind Alexander as he led them towards the far end of the field. Then came the sound of war horns and the Great King’s army appeared – limitless, and with hundreds of standards and insignia going before it. At that moment the sun was rising so that from the midst of the cloud of dust they raised on their march there came the glinting of the metal of their weapons – like flashes of lightning coming from the depths of a dark storm cloud.
    Leonnatus saw the immense line up, stretching from one side of the plain to the other, and he murmured to himself, ‘Great Zeus!’ But the King gave no sign of astonishment at this great spectacle and continued to advance at a walk, holding Bucephalas’s reins to his chest while the horse arched his powerful, shining neck, snorting and champing at the bit.
    Behind him the entire army started unfolding, squadron by squadron, battalion after battalion, to the rhythmic sound of the drums and the loud regular marching of the soldiers, the excited stamping of the horses. To their left the vast levelled area opened up – all that separated them now from the Persian front line that continued its inexorable forward march.
    Alexander began to turn towards the right, to reach a more irregular and rolling tract of land, but the enemy immediately realized what he was trying to do. The sombre, prolonged sound of the horns came once more and the entire Persian left wing, composed entirely of Scythian and Bactrian cavalry, set off on a counter manoeuvre. Alexander gave a signal and the Agrianian archers on horseback galloped towards the enemy as they approached and unleashed dense swarms of arrows; then he sent a squadron of hetairoi to slow down the enemy’s thrust while he himself continued at the head of the Vanguard, at a walk, incredibly calm. Only those who were alongside him were able to perceive an occasional irregular blinking and the sweat on his temples.
    The hetairoi spurred their mounts on, quickly devouring the space between themselves and the fast-approaching wave of the Asian horsemen. The impact was truly horrendous – hundreds of horses rolled to the ground, hundreds of horsemen on both sides fell with them and immediately, despite their injuries, they set to in mortal hand-to-hand combat in the midst of the hooves, in that inferno of dust, neighing and shouting that surrounded them on all sides. A thick cloud was raised, covering almost the entire field, so that it was no longer possible to make out what was happening and what might be the results of that first clash. Some of the Agrianians, having used up their arrows, had drawn their knives and thrown themselves into the ruck, driven on by