The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great

"Grant us our lives, O king!" they cried.

"They surrender," Parmenio said. "They are ready to join us. Why not accept them? It will cost many lives to punish them."

Alexander's brow darkened. "They are traitors to Greece," he said. "I will have none in my army who has raised his hand against his country."

The deep phalanx rolled onward to the chant of the pæan, and the despairing mercenaries knew that they could expect no quarter.

"Let us die like Greeks, since we must die," their captains exhorted. "There is no escape for us."

The phalanx dashed upon them with a rending shock. The long sarissas tore through their ranks; but they stood firm, giving blow for blow, and calling upon each other not to disgrace their name. They even forced the veterans of Macedon to recoil, and the phalanx surged back like a mighty wave that dashes itself against a sounding cliff and returns with renewed strength.

Had only the foot-soldiers, with whom they could fight on equal terms, been arrayed against them, the issue might have remained in doubt; but the cavalry, against which they had no defence, fell upon their rear ranks with terrible effect. Their squares were broken; their captains fell; disordered and without guidance, they went down before lance and sword, fighting to the last.

Alexander's horse was killed under him while he was leading the cavalry charge upon the left, and for the second time that day he narrowly escaped with his life.

"They fought like men," he said sadly to Ptolemy. "I wish they had been with us instead of against us, for they were Greeks."

He gave command to stop the carnage. Where the mercenary line had stood the dead lay in heaps, friend and foe together. A few of the mercenaries who had been cut off from the main body by the cavalry had succeeded in making their escape; but of the twenty thousand whom Memnon had led, eighteen thousand never left that bloody field. At least, they had shown the barbarians how to die.

"It will be harder for Darius to hire Greeks to fight for him after this," Chares remarked, as he reined in his horse beside his two friends and dismounted.

"They were of our race, after all," Clearchus said, regretfully.

"They were not cowards," Chares assented, nodding his head in approval, "and we have lost more men than we could spare. Here is a fellow, now, who might have amounted to something."

He pointed to the body of a young man who lay with his broken sword beside him. His pale face was calm and his wide eyes stared upward at the crimson evening sky. His corselet had been broken, disclosing the end of a thin roll of papyrus. Chares drew it out and broke the seals.

"He may have been a poet," he said, handing the roll to Clearchus. "Read it!"

The Athenian glanced at the writing and uttered a quick exclamation.

"Artemisia is in Halicarnassus!" he cried.

"What do you mean?" Chares demanded.

"This is a letter from Xanthe to me," Clearchus said, and he proceeded to read the lines that his unhappy aunt had written with so much toil.

"Who is this Iphicrates?" Leonidas asked.

"I know not," Clearchus replied eagerly, "but if it be the will of the Gods we shall learn. Let us seek the king at once!"

CHAPTER XX

MENA MAKES A DISCOVERY

Mena, the Egyptian, had found a good excuse for remaining in Athens during the fighting, but after the battle of the Granicus Phradates had summoned him to Halicarnassus. He was sitting in a wine-shop, discussing topics of moment with his host. His restless mind, ever on the alert for intelligence that he might turn to account, was gathering information concerning the city.

"Memnon is an able general," he said. "If they had let him lead, the war would have been over by this time."

"I wish they had, then," the host replied, drawing his cup. "That battle on the Granicus came near to ruining me, there were so many of my debtors who did not return."

"You can make up your loss by raising your prices when the siege begins here," the Egyptian observed.

"Do you think there will be a siege?" the other asked anxiously.

"Of course," Mena replied. "Do you expect Alexander to turn back now that the northern provinces are his? But with Memnon here, he will have his trouble for his pains."

"I don't know," the shopkeeper said, shaking his head. "They say these Macedonians are wonderful fighters, and I am not sure, after all, that I want to see them beaten. Blood is thicker than water, and this is a Greek city, when all is said, even though it pays tribute to Darius. I can't see how we should be worse off under Alexander than we are now. The Persians are robbers, and my grandfather was a Bœotian."

"Would you have the city surrender?" Mena demanded, in affected surprise.

"No, of course not," the shopkeeper said hastily, taking his cue from his customer, after the manner of his kind. "No, I would never surrender, for our walls are so strong and high that the Macedonians will never get through them; but we might make terms," he added cautiously.

His embarrassment was relieved by a boy who came to tell him that two strangers who had just entered the shop desired to speak with him. He excused himself to the Egyptian, whose sharp eyes followed him as he went to obey the summons. He could not suppress a start of surprise when he saw who had sent it. The two men had taken their places at a remote table, evidently not wishing to be remarked. They wore the garb of light-armed foot-soldiers and their accoutrement seemed much the worse for rough usage. One of them was of great size and strength, with blue eyes and yellow hair which curled about his temples. The other was smaller and more delicate in appearance. The cunning Egyptian recognized them in an instant. They were Clearchus and Chares.

Mena knew the two young men had set out with the army of Alexander, and that they must have had some purpose in coming to Halicarnassus. Either they had found some clew, he thought, to Artemisia's hiding place, or they had been sent forward from the army as spies. He gradually shifted his position so that he might watch their conversation with the host without danger of being recognized. Their talk lasted long enough for Chares to drain a huge measure of wine, after which the keeper of the shop bowed them out and returned to Mena.

"They were two Athenians," he said. "They wanted to know where Iphicrates lives."

"Who is Iphicrates?" Mena asked innocently.

"He is an old rascal who makes his living out of the necessities of others," the shopkeeper replied. "I dare say they want to borrow money from him. They will have to pay well for it!"

"Did they say they wanted money?" queried Mena.

"No, they did not say why they wished to see him," was the reply.

The wily Mena drew from his companion all that he knew about Iphicrates. He found the house without difficulty and easily learned the details of the accident that had befallen Thais. With this information and with what he already knew of Artemisia's disappearance, he soon found out all the rest.

"Chares and Clearchus will attempt to rescue the two women," he reflected. "If they succeed, Clearchus will return to Athens and Ariston will be stripped of all he has. He will undoubtedly be thrown into prison besides. That must not happen, now, at any rate. Chares will probably go with Clearchus, and my worthy master will lose, not only his revenge, but the girl that he makes himself such a fool over. Of course he would blame me for that. This Iphicrates is a money-lender, therefore he must have money. Let me see."

Mena's further cogitations led him to Phradates, whom he found playing at the dice with a party of mercenary captains, who were robbing him without shame. The Egyptian drew him aside.

"I will deliver Chares into thy hands to-night," he said, "and give thee Thais to-morrow."

"Are you drunk?" Phradates asked bluntly.

"I mean exactly what I say," Mena replied with dignity, and he related all that he had discovered.

"My turn has come sooner than I expected," Phradates cried exultingly. He lost no time in seeking Memnon, with whom he held a long consultation.

Save for the military patrols, the streets of Halicarnassus were deserted that night when Chares and Clearchus approached the dwelling of Iphicrates. They kept the darker side of the way and advanced with caution, halting at every sound. They had laid aside their weapons, which they knew would be useless in case of attack and which might excite suspicion should they be noticed. In front of the house they stopped to listen. Not a sound broke the stillness and nobody was in sight. In one of the upper windows a light was burning.

"She is there!" Clearchus said, pointing to the gleam.

"How shall we make her understand who we are?" Chares asked.

Clearchus picked up a pebble from the street and tossed it at the window. The first trial failed, but at the second the stone entered the opening.

"Back now until we see her!" the Theban said, drawing Clearchus into an angle of the opposite wall.

In a moment a woman's head, with hair unbound, appeared at the window against the light.

"It is Artemisia!" Clearchus cried, unable to control himself in the rush of his joy. He started forward and stood in the full moonlight with his arms outstretched.

"Artemisia!" he called softly.

"Clearchus, my love, is it thou?" she replied, in the same tone.

"Yes, we have come to save thee," he answered. "Canst thou come to us?"

"I will try," she said. "Thais is here with me."

She vanished from the window, and Clearchus advanced eagerly toward the door. Before he had taken three steps a score of men seemed to rise out of the ground around him. The trap set by Phradates had been sprung.

"Seize them!" the Tyrian cried in a shrill voice.

In an instant, Clearchus had been overcome. Chares, who had remained in the angle of shadow, sprang forward with a cry of rage. He reached Phradates before the soldiers could stop him, and dealt the Tyrian a blow that sent him down in an inanimate heap ten yards away; but, as he did so, a dozen men leaped upon him and bore him to the earth.

Clearchus was struggling like a madman with his captors, but to no purpose.

"They have us," the Theban said coolly. "Let us show ourselves men."

With a groan Clearchus submitted; and the guard, having bound their arms behind them, dragged them to their feet.

"At least, that Phœnician coward has his deserts," Chares exclaimed with a laugh, glancing at the senseless form of his enemy. "I hope I have killed him!"

Part of the guard marched them quickly away, while the rest remained behind to care for Phradates. As long as the house could be seen, Clearchus kept his eyes upon the window, hoping for another glimpse of Artemisia, but he saw her not.

It was necessary for the soldiers who had stayed behind with Phradates to summon a physician before he could be brought back to consciousness. His life had been saved by the fact that he threw up his right hand to protect himself from Chares' terrible blow. The bones of his wrist had been broken and splintered so badly that the physician doubted whether he would ever be able to use his hand again.

In the morning Iphicrates received orders to join the citizen levy that had been raised to defend the walls of the city; and Phradates, with a retinue of slaves and attendants, took possession of the house. The money-lender protested bitterly against the service demanded of him, but his entreaties were in vain. He had not even time to make provision for the security of his valuables before he was hurried away, and he was forced to accept the assistance which the sympathetic Mena pressed upon him. He revealed to the Egyptian, with many lamentations, the hiding-places of his hoard, promising to reward him liberally if he would bring it to him. Mena found not only the gold of which Iphicrates had spoken, but much more that had been so cunningly concealed in the walls of the house that Iphicrates had deemed it unnecessary to allude to it. So expeditious was Mena's search that he was able to report to Iphicrates, before nightfall, that the soldiers had anticipated him and had carried everything away.

"I am ruined!" cried the wretched man, turning pale and wiping the drops from his brow. "The savings of a lifetime of toil have been taken from me! Ah, the robbers! Would that I had them here before me!"

"Take hope," Mena replied soothingly. "The fortunes of war may bring thee more than thou hast lost, and it is better, at any rate, that thy gold should have fallen into the hands of thy friends rather than into those of the Macedonians."

"I have no friends," Iphicrates wailed. "I will appeal to Memnon himself!"

"Give yourself no concern about that," the Egyptian replied hastily. "I have already complained to my master, and he has promised to see that the soldiers are punished. He is generous, and he feels that it was partly his fault that this misfortune has come upon thee."

Iphicrates clasped his hand and thanked him with tears. Mena left him to his drill and hastened to make provision for the secret conveyance of the gold to Tyre. Phradates remained in ignorance of the whole transaction, having matters of more importance to occupy his thoughts than the ruin of an old miser.

Artemisia passed the night in an agony of suspense and weeping. Thais did her utmost to comfort her, though her own heart was scarcely less troubled than that of her younger companion. It was by representing that, weak as they were, they might be the only persons in the city who could aid Clearchus and Chares, and that they must not abandon themselves to despair that she finally persuaded Artemisia to sleep. While she talked, her swift mind was busy with plans. She had heard that the Persian officials were venal, and that anything in the empire might be had for a price. She knew that the purchase of a general or a viceroy was beyond her means, but she hoped that the jailers who had the two young men in charge, whoever they were, might be bribed by her jewels to let them escape. It was with a kind of exaltation that she made a mental account of the gems, thinking that the price she had paid for them might not have been in vain. The question that most occupied her mind was what temper Phradates would be in, for she doubted not that he would seek to take advantage of her situation. Finding Artemisia quiet at last, she lay down and resolutely closed her eyes.

As soon as the Tyrian had occupied the house, his slaves brought food and wine in his name to the young women. Thais accepted it.

"Tell thy master that we have no women to dress us," she said.

"How can you receive anything from that man?" Artemisia exclaimed indignantly, when the slaves had gone.

"If I had my wish, I would drive this through his heart," Thais replied, catching up a small dagger that she sometimes carried in her bosom. "My desire to aid Chares and Clearchus is no less strong than thine; but we are women and we must fight as we can, not as we would. So hide thy grief if thou canst, for it will win pity neither for them nor for thee."

Artemisia looked at her splendid beauty, heightened by the smouldering fire in her eyes. "I feel that I am a child," she said, embracing her. "I know nothing of the world and I am afraid. I will trust thee in all things."

Thais returned her caress. "Our lovers are in the net," she said, "but you remember in the story that it was the mouse that freed the lion. If Phradates sends us the women, he is still my slave, though we are in his power, and we may hope. Now, let us eat."

They had scarcely finished when Mena knocked at the door and ushered in two women of Cyprus, with gleaming black eyes and slender, agile forms. "My master, the noble Phradates, sends you these," he said, bowing low before Thais.

"Phradates hath our thanks," she replied gravely. "Tell him that we hope to express our gratitude to him in person."

Mena withdrew, and Thais immediately commanded the women to dress her and Artemisia. To this task she gave her whole attention, directing every step with the minutest care, to the least fold of the saffron chiton. She chose for her adornment a topaz necklace that seemed to sparkle with inward fire. Artemisia she robed simply in white, with a white rose in her soft, brown hair.

There was an unwonted stir in the house. Slaves came and went with messages. The sound of men's voices rose from below. Thais was restless and uneasy. She paced backward and forward, stopping now and then before the polished mirror to examine once more the lustrous coils of her hair, or the arrangement of her silken chiton. She seemed expectant, and at every footfall turned her face toward the door; but the morning wore on, and Phradates did not come. Finally she sent one of the Cyprian women down, on pretence of fetching water, to learn what was going on. The woman returned with the news that the Tyrian was there, but of Chares and Clearchus she could learn nothing.

Thais hesitated for a moment. "Go down again," she said at last, "and tell Phradates that we are ready to receive him."

The woman took the message, but she came back almost immediately, saying that Phradates had left the house.

Thais stamped her foot. "Then we must wait," she said regretfully. "O that I were a man this day!"

CHAPTER XXI

PHRADATES TRIUMPHS

The morning sun, shining from a cloudless sky, danced upon the rippling harbor before the eyes of the two prisoners as they were led to the Royal Citadel where Memnon had established himself. The Rhodian had been placed in command of all the western border of the empire after the disaster on the Granicus, and his authority was nominally supreme.

They were conducted to an antechamber of the council room to await their turn. They found themselves surrounded by a throng in which the Greeks far outnumbered the barbarians. Sullen looks were levelled at them by the officers who came and went. Ephialtes, who had been exiled from Athens, smiled at them mockingly. Neoptolemus, the Lyncestian, and Amyntas, son of Antiochus, who had been concerned in the murder of Philip, Thrasybulus, and others who had become exiles from their native land for various crimes, passed them in the crowd of civil and military officials whose faces and garb indicated the widely scattered races that they represented.

"See," Clearchus said to Chares. "There goes the Tyrian!"

Phradates was making his way through the hall, holding his head high and ignoring the salutes that were offered to him. He wore a magnificent cloak of purple, under which he concealed his maimed right arm, and his spurs clanked on the marble floor.

"They are the same spurs he used to get away with from the battle," Chares observed. "He seems to be a person of some importance here, and that will do us no good."

"He has us this time safely enough," Clearchus said bitterly.

"That is true," Chares replied. "I wish I had struck him harder! His head must be of iron."

"Do you think the oracle was accomplished when we found Artemisia?" Clearchus inquired anxiously.

"I do not know," the Theban replied, "but only Phœbus can save us now."

"Come along," the captain of the guard said roughly, "the general is waiting for you."

He led them into the council room, where Memnon sat behind a table littered with documents. With him were Orontobates, Phradates, and a few of the higher officers. The famous Rhodian raised his head from the letter that he had been reading and looked keenly at the two young men.

"You are charged with being spies of the Macedonian," he said abruptly. "What have you to reply?"

"It is not true," Chares answered. "We are here on private business alone."

"He lies!" Phradates broke in. "I saw them both at Thebes in the army of Alexander, and again in the battle of the Granicus. They are spies!"

"What he says is partly true," Chares replied coolly, "but it also true that we are not spies and that he knows it. We have left the army of Alexander."

"Why did you come here?" Memnon asked.

"We came in search of Artemisia, a young woman of Athens," Clearchus said. "She was stolen before the war began. We followed the army in obedience to the oracle at Delphi for the purpose of finding her. When we learned that she was here, we came hither to seek her."

"It is all false," Phradates cried. "Put them to the torture and they will reveal the truth!"

"Spoken like a Phœnician," Chares said scornfully, "but it is only among savages that they torture free men. Do you remember, Tyrian, what was done to you when you came as a spy to Thebes?"

Phradates bit his lip and was silent.

"Alexander sent thee back to Tyre," Chares continued, "and he gave thee a message to deliver to thy king, Azemilcus. Hast thou forgotten it? He told thee to bid him prepare the altar in the temple of Heracles, for that he was coming with his army to make sacrifice there. He is on his way."

Chares spoke boldly, and the threat conveyed in his words had an evident effect upon the minds of the men who heard him. Many of them, like Phradates, had seen with their own eyes the impetuous charge of the Macedonians across the Granicus, and they knew in their hearts that the Great King had no troops that could have withstood it. Sardis, Ephesus, Miletus, and all the Carian cities in the north had fallen, and the mutterings of the approaching storm were all about them. Would the great walls of Halicarnassus, upon which they had been toiling, give them shelter? Misgiving seized their minds, and they looked questioningly at each other and at Memnon. None could read what was passing in the thoughts of the wily Rhodian, but no doubt he reflected upon the jealousy of the Persians, his masters, which had forbidden him to lead his Greeks into the battle of the Granicus and which still encompassed him, all the more vigilant because of his promotion. He must have thought, too, of his wife and children, hostages in the hands of Darius. He knew that Clearchus and Chares had told the truth. Would it not be well to have two young men of influence in Greece and on terms of intimacy with Alexander to speak for him in case of need?

With his eyes on Memnon's furrowed face, Clearchus, with the subtle intelligence of an Athenian, divined something of what was passing in his mind.

"Say no more," he whispered to Chares. "He will save us if he can."

Memnon at last raised his head and glanced about him. "I am inclined to think that the story these men tell is true," he said deliberately.

An angry murmur rose from the crowd, and Phradates' face flushed darkly.

"Who was the girl in the litter?" said Ephialtes. "Was she this Artemisia whom they were seeking?"

There was a sneer in the exile's tone that brought the blood to Chares' cheek.

"She was not," he answered. "She was Thais. You may have seen her, Ephialtes, before they drove you from Athens."

"Thais?" Thrasybulus said. "Why not send for her? She may be able to tell whether these speak truth or falsehood."

"Let her be brought before us," Memnon commanded. "Remove the prisoners until she comes. My Lord Orontobates, I wish to consult with you concerning the disposition of the fleet."

Clearchus and Chares were conducted back to the antechamber, while a tall, handsome man, wearing the headdress and insignia of a Persian noble of high rank, bent beside the Rhodian over a map which showed the coast on either side of the city. Although Memnon had been made general and civil governor of the western provinces, he well knew that Orontobates had been placed beside him to watch every act of his, and that the Great King was bound, even though it might be against his own judgment, to take the word of the Persian before that of the mercenary. It was no wonder that the brow of the general was thoughtful and his face careworn, surrounded as he was by traps and pitfalls, and with the terrible army that he had been chosen to defeat drawing hourly more near.

They were still studying headland and bay when Thais and her escort arrived. As if by accident, she took her position full in the sunlight that streamed in through a lofty window cut in the gray stone wall of the fortress. There was a stir of surprise in the room as she entered, and the gaze of every man was bent upon her. The bright flood touched the coils of her hair and filled them with changing gleams. It bathed her face in a rich glow, warm and delicate as the blush upon the petals of a rose. The folds of her chiton, leaving bare the rounded grace of her neck and the swell of her bosom, swept down to her little white feet, shod with saffron sandals, and revealed the firm curves of her figure, youthful, erect, and elastic as a wand of willow. The yellow light sparkled and ran through the topaz chain that rose and fell with her breathing.