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January, 332 BC, thousands of soldiers are heading south. Many march on foot, clad in leather

armour and wearing bronze helmets. Six metre long pikes, their main weapon, protrude high

above their heads like the many spines of a porcupine.

There are also hundreds of cavalrymen, finely dressed with their own spears, swords and splendid capes,

not to mention the countless horse-drawn wagons carrying the vital baggage for this army on the move.

This army, one of their most formidable the world had yet seen,

is hugging the verdant Mediterranean coastline on its journey south.

In land, these soldiers can see a great spine of mountains,

dividing coastline from desert beyond. A lush forest of large

cedar trees sprawls across these hillsides. Forests shrouded in legend, renowned throughout

the known world. The Greeks call this land Feinique, Phoeniciaicia, modern day Lebanon. These forests have provided the timber

for countless ships over countless centuries, vessels that have gone on to explore the

coastlines of Africa, that ferried settlers to new sites in faraway Spain, that fought nimble Athenian triremes in the Straits of Salamis,

that had been the backbone of Phoenician fame for centuries.

The army continues south, parallel with this great forest, forcing the prestigious maritime cities along the coastline to submit one by one. So far, so good.

The soldiers can see their next city in the distance, an island city, the city of Tyre.

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