He meant to go on an expedition to Arabia, and offered a great sacrifice, but at night fever came on.  The Greeks at home, who hated him, said it was from drinking a huge cup of wine at one draught; but this is almost certain not to be true, since his doctors have left a daily journal of his illness, and make no mention of any such excess.  He daily grew worse, worn out by his toils and his wounds, and soon he sank into a lethargy, in which he hardly spoke.  Once he said something about his empire passing to the strongest, and of great strife at his funeral games, and at last, when his breath was almost gone, he held out his signet ring to Perdiccas, the only one of his old friends who was near him.  He was only thirty-three years old, and had made his mighty conquests in twelve years, when he thus died in 323.  The poor old Persian queen, Sisygambis, so grieved for him that she refused all food, sat weeping in a corner, and died a few days after him.