Alexander the Great in Egypt: From Issus to Alexandria

Standing over the battlefield of Issus, littered with the bodies of his Persian foes, one can only imagine what the young king felt. At just 23 years old, Alexander had already accomplished more than any Greek before him. His homeland had long lived under the threat of Persian invasion, barely repelling them during their ill-fated campaigns 150 years earlier. But now, he stood victorious—on Persian soil.

The Macedonians appeared hopelessly outmatched by the vast imperial army that had marched to meet them. Outnumbered by the Achaemenid Empire’s elite forces and deep in enemy territory, many must have questioned whether they could win—let alone survive.

But, as at the Battle of the Granicus River, Alexander’s brilliance in tactics and fearless leadership secured an overwhelming success. His army—a well-drilled force of professional soldiers armed with long sarissas—pinned the enemy in place like an anvil, while he led a ferocious cavalry charge as the hammer. The result: a devastating rout.

This hammer-and-anvil tactic would become a hallmark of his future campaigns—and a nightmare for his enemies.

With Darius III fleeing the battlefield in disgrace and his army shattered, the threat of serious Persian resistance in the west had collapsed. Alexander was now free to push into the Persian Empire’s western reaches, picking off strategic cities and satrapies one by one. Among the Persian governors, morale plummeted. Some questioned their allegiance—how could they remain loyal to a king who had so shamefully abandoned his own family to save his own skin?

Securing the Coast: The Siege of Tyre and the Road to Egypt

Victory at Issus shattered any hopes of stopping Alexander in Asia Minor, but it did not eliminate the threat posed by Darius’s powerful navy. Along the coast of the Levant, key Persian-aligned ports like Tyre and Sidon remained operational, offering safe harbor and potential staging grounds for enemy fleets. As long as these bases stood, Alexander’s rear remained vulnerable—not just to disruption of his supply lines, but to possible coastal raids or counterattacks. Securing the coastline became a strategic necessity.

Alexander’s army marched south to dismantle this threat, securing the surrender of two major cities—Byblos and Sidon. The former was an ancient city perched on the coast, its white-stone temples and harbors gleaming in the winter sun. Alexander’s scouts reported that the Persian garrison had vanished, likely melted away after Issus. With no army to defend them and no illusions about the new order sweeping through the empire, the city’s elders made their choice.

As the Macedonian columns approached—pike points glittering in the light, horsehair crests swaying—the gates of Byblos were thrown open. Envoys came forward in fine robes, offering olive branches and the city’s formal surrender. There was no need for bloodshed. Alexander entered peacefully, demanded no tribute beyond loyalty and ships, and passed through like a storm cloud that left the city untouched.

But Sidon, further south, would prove even more symbolic.

The city’s relationship with Persia had long been strained. Decades earlier, Sidonian nobles had been crushed for rebelling against Achaemenid rule. Their king now was a puppet of Darius, a man who held power by Persian favor, not popular support. As Alexander approached, the people of Sidon rose. Whether by open revolt or quiet conspiracy, the puppet was overthrown.

Alexander saw an opportunity. Rather than impose his own rule, he turned to the Sidonians themselves.

“Choose for yourselves a king,” he told them, “but let it be one from your own blood.”

The nobles scoured the city, but no suitable heir remained—until someone remembered a man named Abdalonymus, a distant royal relative who had been reduced to tending gardens on the city’s edge. A man of noble birth, but humble life.

He was brought before Alexander, hands still dirty with soil. When asked how he, once born to kings, could endure a gardener’s life, Abdalonymus answered calmly:

“I have lacked nothing. I have learned to master my desires rather than be ruled by them.”

Alexander smiled. A man who had ruled himself, he thought, could be trusted to rule others.

And so, Abdalonymus was crowned king, robed in purple, and seated on a throne once denied to him by fate. The people rejoiced. Alexander gained not just a city, but a loyal ally—one elevated by justice, not conquest.

From Sidon and Byblos came ships, supplies, and secure harbors. The Persian fleet, mighty though it was, now found itself without safe anchorage. With every city that bowed, Alexander’s grip on the eastern Mediterranean tightened. Only Tyre, proud and defiant, still stood in his path.

And Alexander was already marching.

The Island Fortress Falls

The island city of Tyre had no intention of surrendering. Confident in its high walls and natural defenses, it rejected Alexander’s demand to enter and offer sacrifice in the temple of Melqart—its patron god, whom Alexander identified with Heracles. The refusal was symbolic. Tyre believed itself invincible.

But Alexander saw more than a city—he saw a threat to his empire’s future. Tyre was a naval stronghold, a bastion that could offer Persia a foothold on the coast if left standing. He would take it, no matter the cost.

Tyre sat half a mile offshore, protected by sea and by reputation. No army had ever breached its walls from land. Alexander’s answer was to build a causeway—a land bridge stretching from the mainland to the island. It was an audacious idea, born of necessity and pride. As Macedonian engineers worked day and night, Tyrian ships harassed them constantly, launching flaming assaults and skirmishes from the water. Progress was slow, and losses mounted.

Undeterred, Alexander summoned ships from Sidon and other newly captured ports, assembling a makeshift fleet to blockade the city by sea. For seven brutal months, the siege dragged on. Catapults hammered the walls. Divers sabotaged underwater defenses. The causeway grew, foot by foot, into a bloody, mud-choked bridge of corpses and stone.

Finally, in late summer of 332 BCE, a breach was made. Alexander led the assault himself, storming the city with a fury born of months of frustration. The resistance was fierce, but ultimately futile. The Macedonians poured through the walls and Tyre fell.

It was one of Alexander’s most merciless victories. The surviving defenders were crucified along the shore; thousands of civilians were killed or sold into slavery. It was a brutal message to any city that dared resist him.

The Gates of Egypt Open for Alexander the Great

After the fall of Tyre, few dared stand in Alexander’s way. Gaza, further south, attempted to resist—and suffered the same fate. Its defenders, confident in their desert fortifications, held out for two months before Alexander stormed the city. He was wounded in the fighting, but the victory was total.

Beyond Gaza lay Egypt, a land long held by Persia—but not willingly. The Egyptians had no love for their Achaemenid overlords, and as Alexander approached, they welcomed him not as a conqueror, but as a liberator.

He entered Memphis to cheering crowds and was crowned pharaoh, adopting the titles and regalia of an Egyptian king. He offered sacrifice to local gods and respected their temples and traditions. Unlike Persia’s kings, who had ruled Egypt as distant overlords, Alexander presented himself as one of their own—and the Egyptians embraced him.

But perhaps the most fateful moment came when he journeyed west, across the sands of the desert, to the Oracle of Amun at Siwa. The journey itself was perilous—legend tells of sudden sandstorms, of guides lost and omens seen in the sky. But Alexander made it, and in the stillness of the oasis, he stood before the priests of the god Amun.

What they told him is lost to history. But when he emerged, Alexander claimed to be the son of Zeus-Ammon, born of divine will. Whether he truly believed it or simply understood its power, his image was changed forever. He was no longer just a king—but something more.

Before leaving Egypt, Alexander founded a new city on the northern coast: Alexandria. Strategically located and classically designed, it would become a beacon of Hellenistic culture and one of the greatest cities of the ancient world.

With the coast secured, the Persian navy crippled, and Egypt firmly in his grasp, Alexander turned his eyes once more to the east. Darius still ruled, and the heart of the empire—Babylon, Persepolis, and Susa—awaited.

The final reckoning was coming.

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