I kept on advancing, not noticing those who fell beside me and would never again see the light of day. The gates creaked open noisily and my cavalry streamed in. The Macedonians had orders to pursue any resistance, even into the Thebans' beds. The massacre lasted three days. Street after street, house after house, my soldiers killed, pillaged, and raped. Sword in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, I amused myself slicing and dismembering bodies. I dined while noblemen were grilled alive beneath the steps. Rather than soothing my rage, victory increased it tenfold.

I left Thebes dissatisfied and melancholy, riding at the head of my army, followed by the women and children taken as slaves. Thebes was in flames. Thebes was reduced to columns of black smoke.

Citizens of Greece, listen! There are none more wily than the Thebans. There are no ramparts more impregnable than theirs. There is no history more proud than theirs. Philip conquered them. Alexander destroyed them. Submit now, why wait! The Macedonian king is on his way! His lance brings with it lightning and his sword brings forth fire. When his mount Bucephalus whinnies, the swiftest steeds are paralyzed. Flee! Run! Crawl! Alexander is on his way, for peace or for annihilation!

***

Ferocity and intransigence are necessities. In order to be feared, a military commander must prove he is not afraid to have men mutilated and put to death. He must sacrifice his peace of mind for his authority. I no longer drank wine until it had been tasted by a slave. I woke in the night believing an assassin had crept into my tent. Philip came to me in my dreams, covered in blood and crawling along the ground, clutching at me with his icy hands. This was my punishment for plotting against my father.

I returned to Pella. With my white tunic, a gold laurel wreath on my forehead, and the royal scepter against my heart, I arrived through the principal gateway, cheered as Philip once was.