Hyphasis.
It was another fucking huge river that Alexander needed to cross. And we were camped on its greasy muddy banks as the endless grey water slid silently by.
Except that this time it was different.
Alexander had been in his tent for three days. The army had been standing outside the royal encampment in the pouring rain, waiting for the shahanshah to emerge from his self imposed isolation.
The rain has started soon after we crossed the Hydaspes. Every day, the sky grew greyer and the rains got heavier. Back home in Britain, we got our fair share of rain, but I never seen anything like this. It just never stopped.
The tracks churned up into impassable mud. Swords and spears rusted. Leather rotted.
You were constantly wet. Clothes clung to you like damp shadows. It was depressing.
The leaden skies, the rotten food, the constant fighting had all taken their toll. The men's mood had soured as we'd marched further and further east of the Hydaspes. As sodden day followed sodden day, the mutterings and murmurings of discontent grew louder and louder. Then, three days ago, we halted at the banks of the Hyphasis.
Alexander had immediately ordered pontoon bridges to be constructed to get the army across the mighty river. And then, the unthinkable had happened. The men threw down their arms and flatly refused to go any further.
Alexander had flown into a rage. I had never seen such fury in him as that day. He had savagely berated his commanders for their timidity and cowardice before retreating into his tent.
That was three days ago and we were apprehensively waiting for him to re-emerge.
I was standing in a muddy puddle near the front ranks of the hoplites. The stench of sweat and mouldy damp was everywhere. A steady drizzle had soaked me. My wet hair clung to my face. Water streamed off my sopping cloak. I looked down at my feet – my legs were plastered in grimy mud.
Fuck, it reminded me of my barbarian home in the cold, damp north! I suddenly felt homesick. I wondered what my father, mother and sister were doing at that very moment. Were they even still alive?
A sudden commotion in the royal tents broke into my thoughts. I looked up and peered through the damp murky haze.
I grinned. It was Alexander, striding purposefully towards a horse. Of course, it wasn't Bucephalus. We'd lost him when we crossed the Hydaspes. Part of Alexander died the day that horse died.
Alexander swiftly mounted the fine bay stallion and skilfully guided it towards the front ranks of the waiting army.
He halted the horse and sat motionless, facing his troops. He silently surveyed them.
Finally he started speaking. He began his address with a long list of their victories, the enemies vanquished, the glories achieved. He praised their bravery, valour and fighting skills.
Alexander was in his stride now, at his loquacious best. Still more he praised his troops' achievements. My heart swelled with pride and tears pricked my eyes.
From praise, Alexander subtly shifted to the need to build on these victories and to finish off the mission to conquer the world. I sensed the mood change in the packed ranks of the soldiers.
Alexander waved his arm towards the far bank of the Hyphasis. "Will you not join me in crossing this river? With just one more effort, we can achieve our goals and then return home to our families."
His tone was pleading.
I immediately stepped forward and pushed passed the front two ranks of hoplites. I marched straight across to Alexander. I halted by his side and turned to face the army.
No one moved.
I could see the sullen hostility in the faces of the hoplites. Fucking Persians! They were a bunch of cowards! Ever since Alexander had started to send the Greek troops home and replace them with men from the Persian Empire, the army had begun to change. It wasn't as fervent in its support of Alexander and was nowhere near as potent as a fighting force.
I could feel Alexander's humiliation. These ungrateful bastards were not fit to tie his sandals! My chest was tight and I could feel a lump in my throat.
"Just you and me then, my lord." My voice was cracked with emotion. I drew a deep breath and steadied my voice. "That'll be more than enough. These Indians are not up to much."
Alexander turned his head and gave me a deep, thoughtful stare. Constant fighting and heavy drinking had begun to take its toll of his once fine features. His dark curls were wet and clung to his temples.
Alexander gazed at the rough barbarian next to him. Slioch had his sword and shield ready to Alexander's budding, as always. Alexander felt a sharp pang of remorse at the recollection that not long ago he had plotted with Hephaistion to send Slioch to his death in the high mountains around Aornos. Sometimes, though, the needs of empire outweighed the needs of individuals.
Slioch had been his faithful shadow ever since they were boys. Ever true. Ever reliable. Not like these fucking Persians!
Alexander's mind filled with memories of Slioch. Good memories! He felt tears swell in his eyes at the unconditional loyalty that Slioch had always given him.
Alexander withdrew his gaze from me and looked back at the army. He stiffened his back and held his head high.
"So be it!" Alexander roared with high emotion in his voice. "I am no tyrant! We will go no further!"
The army erupted with wild cries and the banging of swords on shields.
Alexander turned his horse to face me.
"Slioch," he said softly. "You gave me you most sacred oath long ago when we were boys, and again in Aornos."
"I will give it to you again now most willingly, my lord," I said, the lump in my throat making speech difficult.
Alexander shook his head. "No my old friend," he said with a soft smile. "I release you from your oath."
He wiped the rain, or maybe a tear, from his eye. "Time to go home, Slioch."