Now drew on the time when this noble child was to be born, and as he came to earth temples and towers tumbled on heaps, thunder rang through the welkin, darkness fell over the earth, the wind rose and blew, the lightning flashed over the land, and great stones fell from the sky. Then Philip feared, and said: “Surely this son that is born shall do great things, and men will call me the father of this child”; and with that he went to Olympias and comforted her. But the child grew, nor was he like to father nor mother. His hair was yellow-tawny, like a lion’s, his eyes were bright and glistening, piercing like blazing stars; grim and fierce was his look, one of his eyes black as a coal, the other yellow like gold; his voice was loud, even from his first cry, nor could any hear it without inward fear. Alexander was his name, and the wisest man of all the world, Aristotle, was his tutor, nor would he learn of other. Clever and wise was he, nor did he sit with the crowd of boys, but on a bench beside his master, for it became not a king’s son to sit down undistinguished from other boys. In four or five years he learnt more than many scholars learn in seventy winters. And when he was eleven years old he set him to learn the art and craft of battle, to wield a spear and a lance, to ride a noble steed in armour, so that in a few years was none equal to him, and in adventures of arms he surpassed all men.
It fell on a day that Philip the king was with him, and greatly did he praise him for his deeds, and much was his heart moved towards him; but he said: “Sorely my mind is troubled that nought of me hast thou in look, nor height, nor colour, whereby men may know that thou art my son”: for Philip was tall and black and dark-eyed. Then was the noble queen Olympias grieved when she heard tell of the king’s saying, and she sent for Anectanabus, the Egyptian, and he came, but with little speed, for he was now old and grey. And when he was before her, she asked him what should fall of the king’s speech, for ever she had feared the doom that was to come; but he comforted her, and bade her fear not, for he read day and night the stars for her, and none of the king’s thoughts were against her.
So he went out, and Alexander with him, and as they went, ever the Egyptian looked at the stars, and down at the ground, and sighed. So Alexander asked him at what planet was he looking, and Anectanabus showed it him. Then he asked him why he sighed, and the Egyptian said: “My hour draws near, the son of my works shall slay me! Look over our heads and see that red star shine—the star of Hercules, how bitterly it moves, but noble Mercury shines ever, and great Jove, how jollily he shines—the doom of my destiny is on me.” And as he said the word, Alexander stumbled forward, and pushing the unhappy Egyptian, he fell from the wall of the town where they were walking into the ditch which surrounded it, and with a cry sank. The youth plunged in after him, but when he found his body the old man was dead, and with what grief we cannot tell, Alexander carried home the body of Anectanabus to the palace of his mother. Let others tell the story of her grief, of her tears, and of the splendid tomb of the exiled king—I cannot.
CHAPTER III. HOW ALEXANDER TAMED THE HORSE BUCEPHALUS, AND HOW HE DID HIS FIRST DEED OF ARMS.
So it was that there was at this time a certain prince in the land of Cappadocia, and in the night as he lay sleeping a vision came to him, and it seemed that his room was filled with a shimmering blaze of light, and while he looked a great dragon came into the room, and he shut his eyes for fear. Then there came a voice, saying, “Fear not, O king, but look up, and hearken to my words,” and when he raised his head he saw an exceeding fair man standing in the room, and he had two horns on his head, and a golden crown like one of the gods. Then the vision bade him convey the horse Bucephalus to the land of Macedonia to king Philip; and tell him that he who should tame this horse should rule the land after him. The prince answered, “Where is this horse Bucephalus that I may take him?” and the vision said that on the morrow the horse should be brought him. And suddenly the room was dark, but the prince lay turning this matter in his mind till the grey of the first dawn, and he slept.
On the morrow as he sat on his seat under the oak of judgment, there came to him some of the country folk bringing with them a fair white colt, and his mouth was bound with iron chains. As they came near the king asked them whose was the foal and why they brought him in chains; and the men answered that this colt was so wild that no man dare go near him to mount him, and that he would take no food since he had left his mother but the flesh of men. Then they consulted the priest of the temple, and he bade them carry the young horse to the king, for he would never be tamed but by a great king’s son, nor could any other man mount him. So the king gave them a great reward and they went their way. Now the horse had on his forehead two bones like small horns, and the men called him for that Bucephalus.