In 325 bc, alexander sailed out from the indus delta into the Ocean, the vast body of water which, according to ancient thought, encircled the world. Here he sacrificed bulls to Poseidon and, after pouring libations, hurled the golden cup and bowls into the sea as a thank-offering. The scene was hauntingly reminiscent of the ceremony conducted on the Hellespont in 334. In less than ten years, the Macedonian army had conquered the vast territories of the Achaemenid kings, including the fringe areas of the Punjab and the Indus, the most formidable empire of the ancient world. It had followed the path of unbroken victories from the familiar confines of the Aegean to the edge of the earth, overcoming everything in its way: armies, terrain, climate, all invariably hostile. Now the conquerors prepared to return to the west – some by sea, others along the coastal deserts – to consolidate their victory and contemplate the magnitude of their accomplishments. Little did they know that within two years their beloved king would be dead and their labors seemingly wasted. Most of those who returned to Europe were impoverished, their health broken by years of physical hardship. Others, if they did not die on campaign, were destined never to see Macedonia again, embroiled instead in the bitter struggles of Alexander's successors.