Alexander
the Great Tells History
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UNDER
THE INFLUENCE
Like many Macedonians men,
I revered the God of Wine, Dionysius.
Macedonian fighters regularly
drank copious amounts of wine after battle.
We fought hard, played harder. It was customary
then.
But while some of the tales
of my drinking may be overdone, it is true
that I would occasionally drink a lot, too
much in fact for my five foot seven inch
body to manage.
Over time, some of my biggest
blunders came as a result of the firewater.
When blunders turned bloody, it led some
of my men to become disillusioned with my
leadership.
While when sober I was
a voice of reason and fair mediator, drunken
I left a path of carnage, having taken the
lives of friends and allies through my years
in power.
My greatest regret was
none other than killing Cleitus, the trusted
commander who ironically saved my life at
Granicus. Cleitus was offended that some
Persians were given so much clout in my
new monarchy, so he argued the point with
me. Throughout the confusion and ruckus
that ensued, he was slain. My remorse was
tremendous. For days I wept about my actions
and appeased the God of wine, Dionysius.
When I was in Babylon,
I found myself reflecting on the state of
the empire and the loss of both Hephaestion
and Bucephalus, I found myself drinking
heavily.
Exasperating the matter
was my weakened condition as a result of
the wound I suffered at the hands of the
Mallians.
In a weakened state, I
caught a fever. After twelve days of suffering,
I passed away, one month shy of turning
thirty-three.
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