Book 1, Chapter One: Longing, Pages 21 and 22

Oh, who wouldn’t be having a ball at this banquet? Here the wine springs carelessly from an endless stream of jugs,
and the gold dinner table shimmers with food –
dates, beef, flatbread, olive oil, yoghurt –
and yes, the entertainment is good too:
a band of court musicians, accompanied by the mellifluous and melodious bangle-jingling of Babylon’s most talented dancers, together with acts of unbelievable and questionable acrobatics,
while the men sing and laugh and tell stories of bravery and adventure,
including the guest of honour, a navy officer named Nearchus,
for whom this banquet is for.

Who wouldn’t be having a ball, right?
Oh, wait a second, here, at the end of this table,
up a few steps, here, on a golden throne, flanked by servants and their peacock tail fans, gently waving a breeze, here, now we see is the king of all kings,
Alexander of Macedon.

Alexander, oh who hasn’t heard of him yet! I’ve been told by some biographers in the past and present, that he’s a man of strong, imposing stock. With skin of olive brown sunkissed by the labour of conquest; and hair of honey sunlight, long and center-parted; and a neck so quirky it forever tilts his head upwards, slightly to the left, a classic swagger worthy of a sculptor’s gaze.

Now, my friends, all of these details I describe, are enough to make a lasting impression on anyone’s mind.
But it is his eyes, you see, that are most hard to forget. In this regard, I’m told they are gentle, dewy, and distinctively asymmetrical: the left eye is clear as day, the right dark as night. Blue and brown. Here, both of these skies
and their resulting melting glance, which often would recall emotions of terror and glory on whoever gazes upon them, they themselves are now narrowed
in boredom and disinterest
amongst the reverie.