Alexander’s plan was simple. Having crossed the Indus, the army would march two to three thousand stadiums over dry land, uninhabited all the way to the ocean shores, while Nearchus’ fleet prepared to transport everyone back to the west by sea, to the Nile and to Alexandria on the shores of the Inner Sea.
“Expect us not from the east but from the west,” Ptolemy wrote. “We shall arrive at Tyre, then take the ‘royal road’ through Damascus into Babylon. We will need no more than six months to accomplish this, although interruptions along the way are possible. If Aphrodite is merciful, go to Babylon to meet us eight months after receiving this letter. This will be the end of Asian campaigns for good. Forever. After that, we shall only wage war around the Inner Sea, conquering Libya, Carthage, and Italian cities. Everything to the Pillars of Hercules.
“New cavalry detachments from the Persian aristocracy as well as splendid horsemen-archers from Sogdiana and Bactriana have agreed to sail with us to Egypt. We managed to pull together a cavalry no worse than the brave Thessalians. Your admirers, the Argiroaspides, have become so few after the battles with Scythians and Bactrians that they were made a part of Alexander’s personal guard, joining Agema and the getaerosi. Only the infantry, the veteran phalanx, is still the same. The army, having grown to a hundred thousand people, is now half cavalry. The importance of infantry, once the most important factor in battle, has been reduced. The indestructible wall of shields and long spears that used to crush even the most daring enemy became too vulnerable here, among the endless plains and mountain labyrinths. It was subject to long distance shooting attacks from horseback archers, who were as swift as the wind.”
Over a year and a half, Alexander had managed to restructure the army to suit the war conditions in Asia.
New officers became prominent, Seleucus among them. He was a man of enormous height and superior strength even to the Black Cleitus, but much merrier and smarter than the unfortunate brother of Lanisa.
Ptolemy wrote that as they moved further into India, the mountains became taller and they ran into more snow and glacier ice at the inhospitable ranges. The rivers, half-covered with enormous boulders, became swifter. Through these increasing difficulties
Alexander saw a sign of the approaching end of the campaign. The end of the world should be obstructed precisely so, making it inaccessible to mere mortals. Beyond these obstacles, demigods dwelled in gardens filled with trees of Eternal Wisdom, along the shores of the Waters of Life, the resting place of the sun. These waters gave immortality to gods and titans. Could the titans have been the original dwellers of the world’s boundaries?
Aristotle dispatched special messengers with new considerations for his student. Of course Alexander had had no time to read them during the difficult march up the slopes of Parapamizes and Bactria. He now pondered the writings of the great philosopher and shared his doubts with Ptolemy. In the past, Aristotle had encouraged the king’s push to the east, to meet the carriage of Helios; however, in his latest writings he warned Alexander against blind faith in ancient myths, of which the son of Olympias was so fond. Aristotle wrote that Alexander was unlikely to meet supernatural creatures, for none of the serious travelers have ever met godlike people or manlike gods in any of known Ecumene.
Alexander only chuckled. For him, the traces of Dionysus discovered in Nyssa were more convincing than the sophistry of the old scholar.
In his letter, Ptolemy reminded Thais of the meeting in Babylon and asked that she not bring their son into the hot climate. He promised to tell her many interesting things about countries that had never been seen, not even by mythical heroes.
Even at this point he had traveled further than Dionysus. The voyage of Argonauts to Colchis, according to Nearchus’ calculations, was three times shorter than the distance the army had covered over dry land. And the army had crossed over much greater obstacles and met against much greater enemy resistance.
Ptolemy was writing from the valley of Svat. There, he said, “morning fog sparkled in millions of pearls over the groves of low trees, covered with dark pink blossoms. The emerald water over swift river rushes over purple rocks. Its shores, covered with bright blue flowers that spread in a wide border to the gentle slopes, were overgrown with trees of incredible size that we have never seen in Hellas. They are only comparable to the cedars of Finikia and Cilicia. But those trees spread out, and these grow straight up, raising their dark green tips half a stadium high. Here, as before, the firs and pines are much like those in Macedonia, and my heart was sick with yearning for my native mountains.”
Thais regretted that she could not participate in the amazing journey, but quickly consoled herself, realizing how difficult it would have been for Ptolemy to protect her during the march. It had been difficult even for the tough men of remarkable strength. Her faithful Thessalians and the dear Leontiscus were no longer there to come to her rescue.
Ptolemy wrote about Roxanne, who accompanied the king. She was the wife of the great army leader, the divine Alexander. The entire army was at her service and should she become pregnant from the king, any soldier would give his life to guard the heir to the undefeated ruler of Asia.
Who was Thais? A hetaera, whose love Alexander both desired and feared, publicly rejecting her. She was a wife to Ptolemy, but after how many lovers of this collector of beauty? Even the merry tone of the letter made her think that Ptolemy had found many beautiful girls in Bactria and in the valley of the Indus. She was sure he had also collected a nice loot of precious stones. Of course she would get some of the latter, but quite would it be given in compensation for the former?
No, Ptolemy knew of her indifference. He was sometimes hurt by it. However, it was also convenient for him.
Before the bulls of Dionysus left the pastures of Ecbatana, Hesiona arrived. She had heard nothing of Nearchus and read Ptolemy’s letter anxiously. It was clear that the Cretan fleet leader was back to his preferred role of navigator, map expert and shipbuilder.
The “Daughter of a Snake” had recovered from the hardships of life with her restless sea-goer and looked as pretty as ever in her pink Babylonian dress. Thais invited her to visit Lysippus, but Hesiona preferred to spend the morning hours, while the sculptors were busy with their models, at home playing with Leontiscus.
Now there was one more childless female admirer of her son, and that was most displeasing to the Athenian. Nearchus did not want children, believing he could not provide enough reliability for them; a sailor’s fate was much too uncertain. To Hesiona’s question of what he thought of her, Nearchus smiled slightly and told her that she was sufficiently intelligent, beautiful and rich to take care of herself in the case of his demise. Hesiona tried to explain to the Cretan that, aside from being provided for, she needed many other things from him which she did not want from anyone else in the world. The fleet leader told the Theban that she was quite free, but that he would be glad if she waited for his return because, much to his surprise, he had never found a woman better than her.
“Did you look?” Hesiona asked.
“We all like to take chances,” he said with a shrug.
Gradually, the Theban realized that her intended was as obsessed with the dreams of the hidden Ocean as was his childhood friend, Alexander. Alexander never felt at peace without Nearchus. He always tried to find something for Nearchus to do that was near him, calling himself the chief navigator of his army. As a result, Hesiona was left alone in a big house for so long that she considered divorcing her famous husband. He seemed to have dissolved in the unreachable distance.