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Join Wunderry Plus in the Wundery app or on Apple Podcasts. The Smithsonian's chest was he

he's

The smoke and ash seared his lungs as he breathed in.

The Macedonian's chest was heaving with effort, his heart racing

after the mad dash through the hail of projectiles leading up to the game. So he was breathing in a great

deal more than would have been ideal under the circumstances.

That was the problem with assaulting a city, he thought.

There was too much flammable material in all those houses and workshops.

They went up like kindling at the slightest provocation and then there was smoke and fire and burning debris everywhere

It made the business of rooting out the defenders harder than it had to be

The short sword felt light in his hand

There was no need for the long pike, the sarissa, and the cramped confines of a defensive ditch or the narrow streets of a Greek city.

He had learned that many years ago, in his first campaigns fighting for old King Philip.

In those years the soldier had traveled far and wide in the King's wake,

fighting Thracians, Illyians, Pyonians, and Greeks of all stripes.

Now he served Philip's son, Alexander,

and if what he'd heard about the young man was true,

they would soon go even further.

But he wouldn't be going anywhere

if he ate a belly full of iron in the smoke-filled streets of Thebes.

There was a man charging at him with a spear, helmetless,

...