forget, but otherwise tell for the rest of their lives.
I should add that Alexander, like Philip before him, expressly forbade disrespect of women, the elderly, or children. In Bactria there had been a man in my battalion, the Second Hypaspists, who had been given the rather arbitrary-sounding punishment of one hundred and eighty two strokes of the lash. The number was based on an estimate of the number of women he had raped in the lands of Persia, Hyrcania, and Bactria. The man did not survive the putrefaction of the wounds he received during the scourging. Yet not even this example had brought safety, it seemed, to the people of that village at the foot of Mt. Meron.
“I think…” said Alexander very deliberately, “that I shall be glad when this is all over.”
XVI.
The army pressed on to the Indus. The huge bridge of boats assembled by Hephaestion was sturdy enough for 80,000 Macedonians and 20,000 horses, but still failed to inspire any respect for him.
As usual, the way was smoothed by the surrender of the next kingdom to the east, in this case that of a character named Aambhi (or “Omphis,” as Aeschines called him). A more self-interested climber we had not encountered in eight years of campaigning in Asia. Already under severe pressure from the two Indian kings to his east, Abisares of Kashmir and Porus of the Pauravas, Aambhi made a profound gesture of surrendering what was barely his in the first place. Moreover, Aambhi overdid his show in nearly disastrous fashion: by assembling his entire army before the gates of Taxila, his capital, he so alarmed the Macedonians that they rushed to organize a defense. The confusion was only resolved when Aambhi came out to surrender personally. Alexander met him in the center, both men now models of fraternal goodwill, both smiling, both unable to understand a word the other said.
As expected, the toady was confirmed in his kingship by Alexander, whereupon he changed his name to “Taxiles.” This struck me as odd, something like Alexander styling himself as “King Pella.” In any case, the Macedonians made such an impression that “Taxiles’s” enemy, Abisares, sent tokens of submission. This left only King Porus to oppose their invasion of the Ganges Plain. Beyond that, the Macedonians expected only to find the eastern limit of the continent, washed by the waters of unending Ocean.
Each time the corporation known as “Alexander” called upon the strategic skills of Arridaeus, it took a risk. Accordingly, it made a number of sincere efforts to persuade, overawe, threaten and otherwise motivate Porus to give up his enmity against Taxiles. But this Porus was a stiff-necked fellow, repeatedly sending back the Macedonian envoys. The final time he added a promise: Porus would indeed greet Alexander at the Hydaspes River, but only at the head of his army. “And when Porus takes the field,” the message read, “it is not to stage a pageant like Aambhi, but to make war.”
So war it was. Aambhi warned the King that Porus was a formidable foe, with a well-trained army and a large corps of war elephants. Far from giving Alexander pause, this news delighted him, for he was tired of petty conflicts with brigands and hill tribes, and longed for a good, pitched, set-piece battle.
The Hydaspes is only a tributary of the Indus, but no trickle like the Granicus. It is deep and fast enough to prevent a crossing in all but a few well-known places. Porus blocked them all with an army of 30,000 infantry, 4,000 horse, and 200 elephants. Except for the elephants, the Paurava force was smaller than Alexander’s, but had the advantage of the best ground, and the knowledge that they were fighting for their homes and children; the Macedonians were exhausted, ignorant of the territory, and far from home. For these reasons, it would seem, Porus believed he had a chance to stop the man who had toppled the empire at his doorstep.
Porus was clearly not a man to be panicked by a quick offensive thrust. Instead, Alexander opened the battle with a series of cavalry feints up and down the river. In response, the Pauravas’s elephants and horsemen went out to shadow the Macedonians, massing at the points where Alexander’s cavalry bluffed a crossing. The Macedonians kept this up for several nights, whooping and carousing as they galloped, more or less telling the Indians exactly where they were. With this tactic Alexander so exhausted the enemy that they ceased to respond to these moves in force-for it is not an easy thing to get a corps of elephants on the march! Instead, Porus convinced himself that Alexander would not attack at all that season, but wait for the late summer, when the water level would be more suited to an attack.
Having lulled the Pauravas into complacence, Alexander slipped out of camp and surveyed a crossing Aambhi had pointed out to him, some distance to the north. The river was deep there, but narrower. Judging the ford to be manageable, he ordered his men to construct rafts as they had on the Danube and the Oxus, and also to bring forward one of the large galleys he had disassembled at the Indus and portaged to the Hydaspes. Though no enemy scouts had appeared on the opposite bank that far north, Alexander felt obliged to wait for the most opportune moment to cross, for the Macedonian reputation of invincibility was at stake.
His moment came two nights later, when a great rainstorm broke over the battlefield. With storm clouds blocking the moon, and the rain and thunder muffling their maneuvers, Alexander moved the bulk of his army to the crossing place. Craterus was left opposing Porus with a small force that kept up a large number of campfires, to fool the enemy into believing the Macedonians had not moved. An officer named Attalus, who was about Alexander’s height and coloring, was dressed in his clothes and diadem, so the Indians would not think the king had left the camp. Finally, Craterus was given orders to cross the river when Porus decamped, and to follow the sound of the battle wherever it might be.
The crossing was accomplished before dawn without the loss of a single man. Alexander drew his men into formation, expecting to receive a counter-attack at any moment. His scouts then returned with disturbing news: the Macedonians had not landed on the opposite bank of the Hydaspes, but on an island in the stream! An additional crossing would be needed before he could engage the enemy. His men were now stranded uselessly, while back at the main Macedonian camp the diminished size of Craterus’s holding force would become obvious as the sun rose.
It was not in Alexander’s character to rage at Aambhi’s bad advice, but only to apply himself with greater resolution. The island had at least shielded his army from the eyes of Porus’s scouts. His men proceeded across the arm of the Hydaspes without delay, sinking up to their necks in raging snowmelt. Weapons disappeared in the current; horses and men lost their footing and floated away. Nevertheless, the Macedonians completing their second crossing of the morning just as a mounted detachment of Indians finally sighted them. The horsemen attacked, but upon seeing that the phalanx was safely across and deployed, turned and fled. There was a skirmish as the Cavalry Companions intercepted the Indians. One of Porus’s sons was killed after a brave struggle, but the bulk of his force escaped.
From across the river, Craterus witnessed riders arrive in Porus’s camp with news of Alexander’s appearance on the east bank. The Pauravas king ordered his men to march north, leaving only a token force to prevent Craterus from following him. The last of his elephants departed just as the bodies and sarissas of the drowned Macedonians floated past the Indian camp.
The armies met on flat ground. Hoping to nullify Alexander’s skill at wide cavalry sweeps, and knowing that the horses of the Macedonians were terrified of the larger creatures, Porus pushed his elephants far forward. Aambhi, however, had told Alexander that the Indian mahouts had never faced an army of well-drilled pikemen. Alexander sent word to his infantry to be ready as he feinted with his cavalry. The Pauravas took the bait, sending out their horsemen to chase away the Macedonians. Just as the Indian army split in two, Alexander ordered the Foot Companions forward, brandishing their sarissas under the snouts of the elephants.
For a few moments, the battle hung in the balance as Porus’s infantry held firm against the Macedonian attack. His elephants, tusks raised, charged into the Macedonian ranks, snorting and trampling, plucking unlucky phalangites out of the ranks with their trunks. The victims were suspended helplessly by their legs before the Indians dispatched them. Archers stationed on the elephant’s backs fired into the phalanxes from above, doing further damage.
The Macedonians tried to use their pikes against the eyes of the elephants. The elephants were most sensitive about wounds to their trunks, which they held out of reach of the soldiers. The Pauravas’ mahouts were much more skilled than those hired by the Persians at Gaugamela. Porus’ elephant corps did its job very well, keeping the Macedonians away from the Indian center just as it was ordered to do. The heads of the creatures were armored, so it was difficult work to damage them. The Pauravas sallied out against the phalanx several times,
