Chapter 18Nubia, 332 B.C.
Alexander knew that whatever the last riddle was it would not be easy, and he approached it with trepidation. Not that he was afraid that he could not answer it. Indeed, he had no doubt that he would succeed as he had in all things. Hadn’t the Oracle at Delphi, whom he consulted before embarking on the Persian campaign, said, “My son, you are invincible”?
Of course, he might’ve misunderstood. He had, after all, dragged her from private time back to her pedestal in the gray stone Doric Temple of Apollo—part way up the southwestern slope of Mount Parnassus, with its spectacular views of cleft verdure—to divine his future, having been distressed to find her closed for business on the day that was his one chance to glean her predictions. She might’ve said—or meant—”
