Showers of darts and arrows continued to fall from the rear, striking friend and foe without distinction, but the Persian troops who were directly exposed to the Macedonian attack huddled together like sheep. They were prevented from fleeing only by the fact that they were hemmed in by the dense ranks of their own host. Through them the Companions raged at will, clearing a space into which the archers and slingers pressed with shouts of triumph.
Above the turmoil the Macedonian trumpets rang out high and clear, and, in obedience to their command, the Companions swerved to the left, leaving the light-armed troops to hold what they had gained. Clearchus saw that their charge had torn away the support from the left of the Greek mercenary cohorts, leaving them wholly unprotected. He caught sight of the Agema and the other hypaspists, struggling hand to hand with the mercenaries, and beyond them the phalanx, which he was surprised to find had not yet succeeded in gaining a lodgement on the west bank of the river.
"There's something worth fighting," Chares cried to Nathan, waving his lance at the mercenaries. "They are Greeks," he added proudly. "Come on, and we will show you what a real battle is like."
The Companions had partially regained the order which they had lost in the charge. They now faced the mercenary flank at right angles to the front of both armies. Again the trumpet notes launched them forward. Again the wild cheer arose, ending in a grinding shock. The momentum of the charge carried the Companions far into the exposed flank of the mercenaries; but this time no panic and no yielding followed. Although hard pressed in front by the furious and unremitting onslaught of the Agema and the hypaspists, where Clearchus again caught the gleam of Alexander's floating plumes, the hirelings stood their ground until death overcame them. Facing half about, they met as well as they could the attack of the Companions to which the cowardice of their allies had laid them open. But not even their courage could save them, unsupported and without generalship as they were, from the impetuous determination of Alexander.
Into the living wall the Macedonians hewed their way, foot by foot. Alexander raged like a tiger, knowing that here the battle was to be lost or won. The phalanx was all but broken. Away on the beach the Thessalians had been borne back by the impenetrable masses of the Persian cavalry and were holding the enemy in check only by a series of desperate and reckless charges. At that moment Darius was triumphant everywhere excepting at the bloody curve in the river where Alexander led in person.