Book 1, Chapter Five: Spear-won Land, Pages 91 and 92
… cheers Hephaestion, brilliant friend, Alexander’s companion,
just as our world king had wished.
“You’ll do great!
Don’t you worry!
I just know it!”
Alexander scowls, as he is led,
one hand on another’s wrist,
to their chariot on the eighth track.
“Hephaestion,” he says.
"Doing great isn’t enough.
I need to win.”
Together they yoke their horses to their chariot,
two dappled horses at the centre,
the outriders monstrous Bucephalus and a chestnut –
beasts so fine as if groomed in the stables of Olympus.
Meanwhile the crowd above is on edge.
The standard-bearer here stiff with eagle-eyed watchfulness, spectators there nervous with sweat on their seats,
and the loyal fans shouting themselves hoarse.
Every eye on every athlete.
The race! The race! When will it begin?
Soon! We won’t have long to wait,
as Alexander has just joined his competitors,
their hands raised in signal.