Book 1, Chapter Three: The Taming of Bucephalus, Pages 45 and 46

“Pater! Pater! I found him! That one over there! He's mine!”

Philip laughs, “Excellent!”

Philonicus laughs, but not in mirth.
“O-ooh! That one… aiee, he’s a real monster!
No one has yet tamed him. Not even I.”

Philip is undeterred.
“Well. How much is he?”

Philonicus pauses before replying. “Thirteen talents.”

“THIR-TEEN talents! Hah! For an untamed horse?!”

“Tamed or not, he’s still of Thessalian stock. Thirteen talents."
Philonicus punctuates his business negotiation with a tip of his sun hat.
"That’s his price.”

Philip narrows his eyes and considers the deal.
“Fine! So be it! I’ll tame him myself!”

He enters the pen, and struts towards the horse, confident in his ability. “C’mon, horse!”

The old merchant and the others watch silently and nervously as Philip leads the horse away from its shadowy refuge. With small, careful steps, they arrive near the centre of the pen. So far, the horse had not faltered once under his command. Truly, the mark of a man skilled with war animals!

Philip turns and tugs the reins, so that the horse may face their audience alongside him.

“Behold! Now, what was so bad about this fellow, e–?”