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Unlike Darius, Porus did not flee; he fought on, even as his army routed and his elephants were dragged shrieking to the ground.
At last, worn out by wounds, Porus was captured and brought before his foe.
Tell me: how do you wish to be treated?
Like a king.
Admiring Porus's strength and nobility, Alexander not only spared him: he made him the latest satrap of his ever-expanding empire.
Alexander gained one friend that day, but he lost another.
His wounds were too great, my lord.
No. He has overcome worse than this.
We all have our limits, sire.
As ever, there was only one thing that could assuage Alexander's troubled soul: action.
His new ally Porus was quick to suggest a suitable target for Alexander's next conquest: his own enemies, a warlike tribe known as the Cathaeans.
And so the Macedonians prepared to march again. It had been eight years since they set out from home.
They had won innumerable battles, founded cities, plundered more wealth than any man would know what to do with.
Yet still they were driven on by their insatiable king. And so the men began to wonder: would they ever return home to enjoy their spoils, and sire children to hear their stories?
Or would Alexander push them on until they collapsed?