Chapter 11
A pin for a continent: If conquest were that simple, there would be no end of unhitched wagons. But symbolic gestures have a way of becoming signs, at least in retrospect.
And the signs were good if not obviously so. I had dismissed the fleet—an act that had caused momentary despair among the men—only to find myself exposed in the Mediterranean.
“The fleet’s gone. Memnon’s mercenaries are poised to attack Greece by sea. And there are only a month’s rations. Just what were you thinking of?” Hephaestion said, only half-amused.
“Forcing the men’s hands and making them see the urgency, the inevitability of our quest: All or nothing. Against all odds. No matter what.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do. You’ll see. It will work.”
“How? How do you know it will?”
“Becau
