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

some signal and began retreating southwards. The Greeks, surrounded on all sides and left with no support whatsoever, had to surrender. Hephaestion planted the red standard with the Argead star at the centre of the enemy camp on the left bank of the Euphrates. Nearchus came to him shortly afterwards.
    ‘Is everything alright?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, Admiral. But I wonder how it feels for you to be playing with these nutshell boats when you are used to leading fleets of quinqueremes.’
    ‘One gets by with whatever one has to hand, Hephaes-tion,’ replied Nearchus. ‘The important thing is to win.’
    The officers from the individual divisions gave orders to pitch camp and sent reconnaissance patrols out into the surrounding countryside. One patrol rode up to the top of a small hill with a clear view southwards and saw the flickering of flames on the horizon.
    ‘It’s a fire!’ the leader of the patrol suddenly exclaimed, ‘Quickly! Let’s go and take a look!’
    ‘There’s another one down there,’ shouted another horseman.
    ‘Over there as well! On the riverbank!’ came an echo from another companion. The flames were rising everywhere.
    ‘What can it be?’
    Their leader turned his gaze towards the great glow of fire that now illuminated much of the sky over a large tract of the horizon. ‘The Persians,’ he replied. ‘They’re burning everything. Razed earth, so that we will find nothing of any use to us as we make our way through their land. They want us to die of starvation and exhaustion. Let’s go and check the situation,’ and he spurred the horse on towards the fires.
    They moved forwards, keeping the river on their right and soon they had confirmation of their fears – everywhere, across the plain and along the banks of the Euphrates, there were villages in flames. Some of them were situated on small rises of dried mud and they could be seen even more clearly as they were consumed by the fire, columns of smoke and sparks rising up against the night sky. Men on horseback were riding everywhere, torches and burning branches held aloft – it was a terrible sight.
    ‘Let’s go back,’ ordered the leader. ‘We’ve seen quite enough.’ He pulled on his horse’s reins and spurred it on in the direction of the camp. Soon he was with Nearchus and Hephaestion, reporting on what had happened, but now the light of the fires on the plain was so strong it could be seen from the camp; the horizon was burning red like some absurd southern sunset.
    ‘The harvest has just been stored in the granaries and there won’t be a grain of wheat left from here to Babylon. Alexander must be informed immediately!’ exclaimed Hephaestion. He called a messenger and immediately sent him off in the direction of Tyre.
    *
     
    Alexander, in the meantime, had finished gathering provisions and equipment, had prepared the convoy of carts to transport them and was about to set off for the ford at Thapsacus. News of the imminent departure had spread and as usual the great entourage that always followed the army, setting up camp not far from the soldiers during their stops, had assembled as well. It consisted of merchants plying all sorts of wares, male and female prostitutes, but also girls from poor families who had left home and had established long-term relationships with soldiers. Many of them were pregnant and some of them had already given birth to fine children with dark skin and blue eyes or blond hair.
    That same day, as evening fell, a Macedonian ship moored at Tyre and unloaded shafts of ash and cornel wood for soldiers’ spears, together with chests full of armour and spare parts for the war engines, but one particular member of the crew immediately disembarked and set off for the old town, asking where Callisthenes’ lodgings were to be found.
    He carried a bag over his shoulder and when he reached the door, which had been pointed out to him, he knocked discreetly.
    ‘Who is it?’ came Callisthenes’ voice