In Macedonia, there lived a horse - a splendid horse - by the name of Bucephalus. Philip of Macedon’s son, Alexander, tamed this horse as a young boy and thus it became his magnificent war horse. Noble Bucephalus served Alexander for many years and in the end, saved his master, although it cost him his life. Philonicus, a horse trader, had raised the steed but it was wild and could not be broken. He tried to sell it for as high a price as he could, and Philip of Macedon purchased the animal, unbeknown to him that it was not the tame, calm beast he expected. Philonicus fled, escaping the man’s wrath that he knew was certainly to come. Hence the story of Bucephalus began:
I snorted in fury. The sun shone right behind my bay coat and one more attendant tried to mount me. Again I snorted. Rearing, I neighed loudly as I thought, why do they keep doing this to me? “Sir, I believe this one had become too wild. You know how they are, Phillip. If you leave them too long to their own devices, the animals become unmanageable.” said one man, talking to another behind the fenced in yard. I knew those men too well, even though it had only been a day. The one everyone called Philip was king of Macedonia. I had been brought as a present to this king, and he thought me to be a dumb and shabby creature.
I began my act again: neighing loudly and flinging the stringy man to the ground. I hopefully trotted towards my stable, to escape from that wretched sun, however I was pulled back on my lead to try again. The grass was trampled and stained with blood from the injuries I had given the men when they hit the ground. They deserved it! I thought, vehemently. But then I realize, I have killed my rider. What more terrible thing can a horse do, and especially one of my high place. I think back to the years of my youth...
I was born and raised in Thessaly by Philoeicus. I grew up strong and free - my mother said I was stubborn as a mule. Well, time went on and by and by I was taken away from my birth town. Not that it really mattered. I was a stallion, trained for battle. I was strong. I was brave. I was...but then my gaze met that of a young boy, only twelve years old.
“I am going to get rid of the stupid thing! To think that Thessaly would send such an abominable gift!” Philip began.
“Father, it is a pity to waste such a fine animal! The only problem is his poor riders. Give him a truly skilled man on his back, and he will be completely different! Just watch, I will mount him and show you!”
“My attendants have been working with horses their entire lives, and now you, a boy of only twelve feel as though you can better them?” Philip scoffed. I wondered what this boy’s name was. He really had some spirit in those dark eyes of his. He began walking towards me. Something seemed different. I grasped what it was the moment he touched me. All of the people before me had been scared and timid. “Alexander!” his father said. So that was the name of this bold youth! His touch...