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

Darius was collecting the host which he purposed to lead against Alexander and with which he intended to crush the adventurous invader. Military trappings were to be seen everywhere. The summons of the Great King had brought within the walls an enormous influx of strangers from every corner of the empire.

Chares and Clearchus aroused more curiosity as they rode through the narrower streets of the commercial quarter, where they were forced to proceed more slowly because of the throngs. They were soon recognized as of the race of the enemy.

"See the Greeks!" cried a bare-legged urchin in a shrill voice.

"By Ormazd, that is a big one!" said a soldier in a lounging group, pointing to Chares.

"Granicus! Granicus! Kill the Greeks!" a woman screamed from the top of one of the flat-roofed houses.

Her imprecation caused a stir among the idlers, who pressed forward to learn what was the matter and to obtain a better view. The rumor ran that there was to be fighting, and customers poured out of booth and bazaar to see it. They came good-naturedly, but in such numbers that they quickly blocked the way and brought the troop to a halt. Some mischievous boys began to pelt the horses with pebbles, causing them to rear and plunge. One of the animals kicked a man in the crowd, who struck at the rider with his staff. The Arab lunged back with the butt of his lance. The crowd drew out of the way, jeering and laughing.

Meanwhile the woman on the roof continued her cry. "Kill the Greeks!" she screamed. "Slay them! Remember the Granicus, where they slew my son!"

Her words were taken up and repeated by other women who leaned from the house-tops on either side of the street. The crowd continued to gather, those behind pushing the foremost against the plunging horses. Several were trampled upon.

"Go away," commanded the lieutenant. "Stand back, you hounds; these are prisoners for the king."

"Prisoners!" howled the mob. "Kill the prisoners! Burn the murderers! They would assassinate the king!"

The crowd showed signs of becoming inflamed. Some of the bolder spirits made a rush for the horsemen, seeking to pull them down and break the circle that the Arabs had formed about the two Greeks. The impact swept the little party into an angle between two houses, from which there was no escape save through the multitude. The women began to shower sticks and tiles upon them from the roofs. It became necessary for them to raise their shields to protect their heads from the missiles.

Nathan turned to the lieutenant, who, with a blanched face, had shrunk back against the wall.

"Do you intend to stay here?" he demanded sternly. "Draw your sword and lead us. We must cut our way out. My prisoners are for Darius and not for these."

"They are too many," the lieutenant whined, with chattering teeth.

"Then give him your sword, since you are afraid to use it," Nathan said, pointing to Chares. The Theban snatched the weapon from the young man's hand.

A javelin hissed through the air, cast by some soldier in the throng, and stood quivering in the beams behind their heads. Clearchus pulled it out and took possession of it.

The mob still held back, agitated by conflicting currents. The idlers who had instigated the attack in a spirit of wantonness had no stomach for fighting, and were struggling backward through the press, seeking a safe distance. Their places were taken by reckless and half-drunken soldiers, who had grown weary of inactivity in the city and were eager for any excitement, even though they obtained it at the risk of their lives. Many of them were little more than savages whose innate ferocity was aroused by the mere sight of blood. Some had received cuts and bruises when the rush was made. The voice of the mob changed from a tone of banter to a menacing cry for revenge.

Nathan saw that the non-combatants had succeeded in extricating themselves, and that the men who now faced them carried weapons in their hands and were preparing to use them. The situation was perilous. His handful of soldiers were outnumbered by more than a hundred to one. The mob was momentarily being reënforced from the wine-shops and the alleys that honeycombed the district. It was plain that there was no escape unless rescue should come quickly.

He raised himself on his horse and anxiously scanned the faces of the crowd that had pressed back out of harm's way and now stood in expectant silence. He knew that through the years that had passed since the Captivity, many thousands of his race had continued to dwell in Babylon and that the trade of the city was chiefly in their hands. He saw their keen dark eyes looking on indifferently from beneath the awnings that shaded the entrances of their shops. To them he determined to appeal.

"Israel! Israel!" he shouted, raising his open palm above his head. "In the name of Jehovah, I call upon thee! To the rescue!"

His cry rang clear in the momentary hush of expectation and reached the ears for which it was intended. Upon the outskirts of the mob men turned to their neighbors. "He is one of us! We must save him!" they said, one to another. "Israel! Israel!" The rallying shout spread through the dense masses of men into streets where Nathan's voice had not penetrated. It ran like a spark in a field of dry corn. Bearded men and dark-skinned youths left their occupations and sprang forward, snatching up such weapons as they found nearest to their hands. There was a second shifting of the crowd as they pushed their way toward the front, pressing in a great circle upon the ring of soldiers who were hemming Nathan in.

This ring was composed mainly of the fiercest and wildest fighting men in all the Persian Empire. It represented the extremes of the Great King's dominions. Yellow-haired Scyths, clad in the skins of animals, stood side by side with gigantic negroes from the mysterious forests of Ethiopia. Their language was unknown to each other, but they had been brought together into a fleeting comradeship by the irresistible and savage desire which, they held in common for excitement and slaughter.

The Jews attacked this formidable band without hesitation, hurling fragments of stone, earthen pots, and even the merchandise that had been displayed in the shops. The unexpected assault caused a momentary diversion. The Scyths and Ethiopians turned and charged into the crowd, striking with their swords and war clubs indiscriminately at friend and foe. Chares tossed the long hair back from his eyes.

"Your friends came just in time," he said to Nathan, "but it would be ungrateful for us to let them fight alone. Forward, Clearchus!"

With the Athenian at his side, he swung his horse into the street and dashed upon the nearest of the Scyths, a giant whose voice had been bellowing encouragement to his companions. The lieutenant's gilded sword fell upon the knotted cords of the man's neck, and he went down like some great tree in his own northern forests. His long blade slipped from his hand, and the Theban, stooping from the back of his horse and holding by the mane, caught it up.

"Ha!" Chares cried, swinging the heavy weapon above his head, "now we can get at them."

The Arabs, headed by Nathan, had followed the Greeks and were fighting beside them in a compact body. The Jews outside the circle had come to close quarters and were hacking and thrusting with daggers and butchers' knives. Their charge had been so sudden that the Scyths were nearly broken, but they recovered themselves almost instantly. A species of madness seemed to possess them. They closed in like a pack of wolves, fighting with each other to get near enough to strike a blow.

News of the outbreak had spread far into the city. From every side, thousands drew toward the scene of the battle, driving in the crowds that were seeking to keep their distance. They pressed upon the Jews and forced them helplessly against the weapons of their enemies. The number of the Scyths was momentarily increased by the arrival of their friends.

Nathan saw that the fight was hopeless. The Israelites, badly armed and undisciplined, were melting away. The only chance of escape lay in regaining the angle in the wall where they had first taken refuge, and from which they might be able to enter one of the houses.

Chares was wielding the great Scythian sword with both hands. Whoever was thrust within its sweep went down. Its tempered edge shore through bone and metal, and no parry availed to turn it aside. Clearchus fought at his shoulder with his javelin, protecting him against attack in the rear.

"Back!" Nathan shouted to them. "We cannot face the odds. We must seek the wall!"

"You are right," Chares answered without turning his head. "We are coming. I wish Alexander were here!"

He cut down a negro who had succeeded in getting within the thrust of Clearchus' lance.

"This is better than Granicus," he panted, as the man rolled upon the ground.

Clearchus made no reply, and Chares saw that his face was drawn and pale. It was clear that he was becoming exhausted. The Theban was filled with sudden alarm.

"To the wall!" he cried, wheeling his horse. "Bear up for a little yet, and we will show these beasts how Greeks can die!"

They recovered their position with difficulty, followed by the howling Scyths and negroes. Half the Arab escort had been killed, and Nathan was bleeding from a wound in the thigh, though he still fought gallantly. Chares alone was both unwearied and unscathed. He seemed endowed with the strength of ten men as he faced the fierce onset. His aspect as he turned at bay with uplifted sword caused the Scyths for an instant to hesitate. Then they charged, clustering around the little band like a swarm of angry bees, pushing each other forward and striking over one another's shoulders. It was clear that the conflict could not last much longer. Nathan knew that, once they were down in that seething and raging mob, they would meet a frightful death. His flesh shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

"Down with them! Down with the Greek dogs! They give way!" yelled the mob.

Clearchus glanced at the sea of distorted faces, white, yellow, and black, and saw thousands of eyes glaring hungrily at them. A strange indifference took possession of him. Why should he strive? What mattered it now whether the God of Nathan was mightier than the Gods of Greece? Not even the Gods could save them. If Artemisia were dead, he would meet her presently in the Elysian Fields. If she were living, sooner or later she would join him in the land of shades beyond Styx. There he would tell her how his heart had suffered. It was easier to die than to live, since now he must die.

"It is finished, Chares; we will go together," he called to the Theban.

"Not until I get this one!" Chares replied grimly, nodding toward a man who crouched before him just beyond the reach of his sword.

The squat figure was bent for a spring. The man wore a leopard skin across his muscular shoulders and his little green eyes were fastened ferociously upon the Theban, watching for an opening. Clearchus thought he had never seen anything more repulsive than the flat, broad face, with its strong, yellow teeth showing like fangs. As he looked he heard Nathan's voice beside him.

"O Lord, my God, save now Thy servant, if such be Thy will; for without Thee, I perish!" cried the Israelite, in an accent of despair.

"Here he comes!" Chares shouted.

The figure of the crouching Scyth bounded forward, and his bright sword, keen as a razor, flashed in the air.

"I have him!" Chares cried exultingly. His long blade hissed downward as he spoke, and the ugly round head rolled in the dirt. The stroke was followed by a roar of rage from the Scyths, among whom the man had evidently been a leader of importance.

"Come on!" the Theban called to them, tauntingly. "Cowards, why do you wait?"

The challenge seemed to goad them to desperation. They came with a rush in which they threw aside all caution. The remnant of the little troop was hurled violently backward. Chares' sword rose and fell without a pause; Nathan and the men who remained to him cut and thrust at the faces of their foes; and even Clearchus, roused by the instinct of self-preservation, plied his javelin. The end had come, and nothing remained but to die bravely.

It seemed to Clearchus that they would be able to hold out for only a moment longer, when without apparent, reason the attack suddenly slackened. The Scyths drew back, leaving a circle of dead and wounded under the wall. The mass of humanity that blocked the street swayed and gave way with a roar of warning and of fear. The mob was all in motion. It seemed to be fleeing before some danger, the nature of which the objects of its attack were unable to guess. It rushed past the angle in the wall where Nathan and his prisoners had taken refuge, carrying the struggling Scyths along with it.

"What is happening?" Clearchus gasped.

Nathan was too nearly exhausted to reply. He shook his head as a sign that he did not know, but the answer was not long delayed.

The beat of trampling hoofs and the thunder of rolling wheels was mingled with the roar of panic, and in an instant the street was filled from side to side with close ranks of wild-looking horsemen.

"Way for Bessus! Make way for the noble viceroy!" they shouted, striking right and left with their rawhide whips.

They rode into the mob with reckless indifference, and all who were unfortunate enough to be unable to get out of their way were trampled under the hoofs of the galloping horses.

"They are the Bactrians," Nathan panted. "We are saved."

From their sheltering angle, the Greeks watched the horsemen go past. Every man seemed an athlete, and the riders sat upon the backs of their horses as though they had grown there. Behind them, after a brief interval, rumbled a heavy war chariot drawn by four black steeds. In this ponderous vehicle, beside the charioteer, stood a corpulent man, with an enormously thick neck and a heavy jaw that gave an aspect of sternness to his dark face. He paid no heed to the lifeless forms over which the wheels of his chariot rolled, and he seemed deaf to the cries of pain uttered by the wretches who had been maimed beneath the hoofs of his guard. Clearchus' eyes for a moment met those of the viceroy and he felt a chill strike through him, as though he had touched some monstrous reptile unawares.

The passage of the Bactrians effectually cleared the street, but Nathan deemed it wise to fall in behind them lest the attack should be renewed. As they were about to start, a thought occurred to Chares.

"Where is the lieutenant?" he asked.

"He is there," Nathan replied, pointing to a heap of the slain.

The body of the young man lay a little apart from the rest, with the paint still on its cheeks and a gaping wound in its chest.

"So his cowardice did not save him," Chares said. "Let us go."

"Come, then," Nathan replied, and behind the chariot of Bessus, they arrived at the gates which gave entrance to the enclosure in which stood the royal palace.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE GREAT KING IS ANGRY

At the approach of Bessus the great bronze gates in the palace wall swung wide, and he rode through them, followed by his Bactrians. Nathan halted at the entrance, which he found in charge of a guard of his own race. The gray-haired captain in command rushed forward with a cry of joy.

"Where hast thou been?" he cried, embracing Nathan as he dismounted. "Art thou sound and whole?"

"Nearly so," Nathan replied, showing the cut on his thigh, which fortunately was not deep and had ceased to bleed. "How is it with Israel?"

They walked apart, talking in low tones. The Arabs and the two prisoners threw themselves on the turf inside the gate and waited. Through the swaying branches of the trees they could catch glimpses of the massive walls of many buildings standing in stately magnificence amid the verdure. At a distance, above roof and tree-top, rose the famous Hanging Gardens of the Great King, built in terraces, gay with wonderful flowers and strange plants brought from the ends of the world. Crystal streams flashed in waterfalls from the summit, following winding artificial channels, beside which stood statues of marble.

The two Greeks noticed that Nathan and the captain glanced at them from time to time as they talked, and they felt that they were the subjects of the conference. Finally Nathan came toward them, bringing the captain with him.

"This is Ezra," he said. "He knows what I know. Obey him in all things. When the time comes, I shall be near; but now I must leave you."

He offered his hand and the two Greeks shook it warmly. Then with a word to his Arabs, who followed him with their horses, he led the way down a side path and vanished in the thickets.

"Where is he going?" Clearchus asked.

"To the barracks," Ezra replied. "Darius keeps a guard here of ten thousand men, who are known as the Immortals, because their ranks are always full."

"The palace is almost a city," Clearchus said, looking about him with curiosity. "We have many cities at home that are smaller."

"It has need to be," Ezra replied. "The Great King usually has fifteen thousand guests at his table, and the number now is greater because he is preparing for war."

"Will he really take the field, then?" Chares asked.

"He is mustering his army," the captain answered, "and he will lead it to battle. The result is in the hands of God."

"I could tell thee, Jew, what the result will be," Chares said dryly. "By Dionysus, what a place to plunder! Where are you going to take us?"

"I shall deliver you to Boupares, governor of the palace, who has charge of the prisoners and of the hostages," Ezra said. "So long as you make no attempt to escape, you will have a considerable amount of freedom. There are some of our people among the guards, and one especially named Joel, who will tell you of what is being done. Of yourselves you can accomplish nothing; but we can do much. You are to leave everything to us. Joel you may trust, but it will be your part to wait in patience."

"When shall we be summoned before the king?" Clearchus asked.

"Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps a month from now, and possibly not at all," Ezra replied. "It is never known in advance what he will do."

So the two friends passed into their captivity in the palace of Darius. As Ezra had said, their confinement did not prove a hardship to them. They were placed with hundreds of others in a remote wing near the river wall. They had baths, a large court for games and exercise, and abundance of slaves to provide for their wants. The Israelites among their guards supplied them privately with the news of the court. The winter months passed pleasantly enough, considering their situation. Clearchus, whose mind was filled with doubt concerning the fate of Artemisia, had his days of gloom and despair; but there was nothing to be done, and the light-hearted resignation of Chares saved him from utter despondency.

Of the numerous company held by Boupares to await the pleasure of the Great King, many knew not why they had been brought thither. Some of them had been there for years. Others received the royal summons on the morrow of their arrival and did not return. There were princes from the distant East, who had been suspected of a desire to throw off the Persian yoke; there were adventurers from Athens, merchants from Sicily, dusky chieftains from the sources of the Nile – a strange mixture of tongues and races, in, which every part of the huge, unwieldy empire was represented.

"I feel as though we were in the cave of Polyphemus," Clearchus said. "Who can tell whose turn will come next?"

"At any rate, the king is not a Cyclops – he cannot eat us," Chares replied. "Here comes Joel; now we shall get the latest news."

The young man approached them with the affectation of carelessness that it was necessary to assume to disarm suspicion. The palace swarmed with the Eyes and Ears of the king, spies and informers whose identity was unknown even to the most trusted of the courtiers. He must be cunning indeed who could frame and bring to fruition a plot that could escape their observation. A word from one of them, even though founded upon suspicion, often brought death.

"Well?" Chares said, when Joel reached at last the spot where they were standing, out of hearing of the others. "Repeat for us the murmurs of this whispering gallery."

"It is in fact a gallery in which every whisper is heard," the Hebrew said, smiling. "But there is great news to-day; Pharnaces has been condemned to death, and all his family must die with him."

"What has he done?" Clearchus asked. "Is he not one of the most powerful of the nobles and a favorite with the king?"

"Yes," Joel replied, "and why the sentence was passed no one knows excepting the king himself."

"But will he have no trial?" Clearchus persisted. "Will they not tell him what charge is laid against him?"

Joel shrugged his shoulders. "The sentence has been passed," he said, "and not even the Great King, who made it, can change it now. We have been trying to discover what the accusation was. Pharnaces wanted to be viceroy of Bactria, and he had been gathering evidence with which to destroy Bessus. It must be that Bessus managed to reach the king first; but what means he had of accomplishing this, we do not know. Perhaps he bribed one of the king's Eyes. It must have cost him something, but Bessus could do it if any one. If he did not work through the spies, he may have persuaded the Magi to discover some treason in the stars and then to accuse Pharnaces. Bessus is on good terms with the Medean priests, for he lets them do what they like in his province."

"This Bessus must be a dangerous man," Clearchus said.

"Only because he has force and daring," Joel replied. "He does what every other man would like to do. There is not a satrap or viceroy in the empire who does not desire his neighbor's ruin. It has been worse since these fire-worshipping priests began to get back into favor again. Our wise men say that it was an evil day for the kings of this land when they allowed these men to wean their minds from Ormazd and set up their idols in Babylon. But now there is no God too false to obtain worship here. Even Baal and Astarte have their temples, and they are beginning to bring in the Egyptian brood of deities. The cup is filling fast, and they must drink it when Jehovah wills."

The young man's voice sank to a tone of awe as he pronounced the dreadful name, and he glanced about him as though he half expected a thunderbolt to fall. It did not escape the Athenian perception of Clearchus that the Jew seemed to regard the terrible presence as real and actual. His earnestness formed a striking contrast with his usual affectation of the easy and cynical manner of the court.

"We laugh and jest here in the palace," he went on, "but each man's hand is against his neighbor. Faith and honor are lost. Servants betray their masters and sons lead their parents to death. What knows the Great King of all this? He lives behind a screen, where thieves and rascals make him their tool. These plotters play upon him as they do upon Sisygambis, the queen mother, who has almost as much power as her son; or upon Statira, his queen, the most beautiful of women. The gynæceum is a nest of intrigues. His stewards and keepers and cup-bearers have each their price, and they do not scruple to take it. A whisper or a look may send a man to his death. Give me a chance with a sword in my hand and let me see the man who strikes me! I hate this treacherous game in the dark!"

"Well spoken, my lad!" Chares said. "But what about this queen, Statira – is she so very beautiful?"

"They say she is the fairest woman in the world," Joel answered, "and that the Great King is the handsomest of men. I have never seen her, or I would not be here now. It is death to look upon the face of one of the king's women, even by accident."

"They seem to be very particular!" Chares grumbled.

"I dare say they have their reasons," Joel said. "But I have not told you all the news. The king has had a dream, and he believes that the Gods have promised him the victory over Alexander. The Chaldeans have told him so."

"What was the dream?" Clearchus asked uneasily.

"It was proclaimed this morning," Joel said. "Darius dreamed that when he had come within sight of the Macedonians, their army suddenly burst into flame and all the troops were consumed, so that nothing but their ashes remained where they had been. And then he thought he saw Alexander, dressed like one of the lords of the household, standing ready to serve him. But when he went into the Temple of Baal, Alexander vanished utterly and was seen no more. From this the learned men of the Chaldeans say that Baal will give the battle to Darius and will remove Alexander from his way. So the king has ordered sacrifices to Baal and has promised him a great temple of stone after the victory."