Part 4: The Great Battle

When the sun lifted its head above mountain and meadow, the earth glowed like a lamp of gold. King Dara marched his army out, and the world drew a black curtain over its head. He brought his troops from the Euphrates; on the plain they were more numerous than blades of grass. When Alexander heard the army was coming, he struck the war drums and set his own troops on the march. Two armies without limit or edge, and no one in the world was Alexander's equal. From the gear and the warriors of both sides, the earth was like a sea, and the dust rose like a mountain. From armor and Indian daggers, from height, from horse, from the barding of the mounts, The two armies drew up their lines, and the sun caught fire from the blades. They led the elephants to the front of the ranks, and the world became like the river Nile. Warriors behind, elephants ahead, every man had let go of his hold on life. You would say the air was roaring with blood, and the earth was seething from its cries. From so much wailing of horns and Indian bells, the very heart of the mountain leapt from its place. From the neighing of horses and the shouts of chiefs, and the clang of heavy maces, You would say the earth had become a battling mountain, and from the dust the sky had turned the face of an African. For a whole week the battle-hungry warriors stood face to face against each other. On the eighth day a dark cloud of dust arose, such that the sun turned the color of lapis. It blotted out the sight of the Persian army, and they fled from that battlefield. Alexander's troops pressed after them, thundering, one side full of grief, the other rejoicing. Alexander advanced to the bank of the river; they killed Persians beyond count. They turned the army back from the river's edge, and he ordered them to cross the water. In victory he came to that battlefield, where that chosen army had stood before.