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

Clearchus gathered his senses with an effort of will, and the two Greeks followed Nathan across the roof toward the great wall, against which the prison was built.

Nathan led them straight to the foot of a narrow flight of steps, roughly hewn in the masonry and scarcely discernible a few yards away. Up these he climbed with the agility of a cat. Clearchus, still faint and dizzy, hesitated for a moment, gazing at the sheer height that towered above his head.

"Forward!" Chares cried behind him. "It is our only hope."

Clearchus set his feet in the narrow steps and followed Nathan, carrying the jailer's spear in his left hand and clinging to each projection with his right. More than once his feet slipped and Chares saved him from falling. The steps wound upward almost perpendicularly, and it was evident that they were rarely used, for in places the soft brick had crumbled, leaving wide gaps.

"Look up!" Chares cried desperately, as Clearchus halted at one of these dangerous points. "Look up – and remember Artemisia, whom thou alone canst save!"

He had touched the right chord at last. The Athenian's brain cleared at the mention of Artemisia's peril, and he forgot his own. The wall no longer seemed to waver before his eyes. All doubt of his ability to pass where Nathan had passed before him vanished from his mind, and he gained the top with an even pulse.

They paused for a moment to get their bearings. Far beneath them they saw the starlight trembling on the broad sweep of the Euphrates, beyond which for miles lay a level country, dotted with trees and fields. Behind them spread the sleeping city, an endless succession of roofs and towers. Here and there a torch glimmered like a firefly. The crest of the wall, upon which they stood and where four chariots might have been driven abreast without crowding, was apparently deserted.

The sound of shouting rose from the direction of the prison. They saw a cluster of torches issue from the main entrance and scatter in every direction.

"They are giving the alarm," Nathan said, "but I think we shall have time to disappoint them. There is a rope waiting for us where the river touches the wall, and at its lower end we shall find a boat."

The river was several hundred yards distant from the spot where they stood. Before they could reach the place where the rope was concealed, they must traverse nearly a quarter of a mile. Between them and safety stood one of the guard-houses built for the sentries whose duty it was to patrol the wall night and day. Still worse, they must pass the entrance of a broad flight of steps that led downward into the city and formed the usual means of ascent to the top of the wall.

It had been Nathan's plan to come up by these steps and gain the rope without passing the guard-house. The obstinacy of the jailer had disarranged everything. It was of the first importance that they should reach the rope before the sentinels on the wall could learn what had happened, or the guards from below could mount.

Like shadows they sped along the top of the wall, holding as near as possible to the outer edge so as not to be seen from the city. Outside the guard-house a sentry stood, craning his neck to see what was going on beneath him to cause all the shouting. They stole by behind his back without arousing his attention.

They had fled past the head of the stairway and were congratulating themselves on their good fortune when they came suddenly face to face with a returning sentry, slowly pacing his beat. The man was as much surprised as they and seemed in doubt as to whether they were friends or foes. Before he could make up his mind, Chares gripped him by the throat and the broad blade of the jailer's spear buried itself in his heart. He had uttered no cry. Chares dragged the body under the parapet that had been built where the wall overhung the river to protect the defenders from the archers who might be sent to attack the city from ships.

Crouching in the shadow of this elevation, they went on at a slackened pace, expecting every moment to come upon the rope. It was nowhere to be found. The shouting from the city now came clearly up from the staircase as the guards ascended. Finally Nathan paused and looked doubtfully about him.

"It should be very near here," he said, "but I do not see it."

"Then there is nothing for it but to take as many of them with us as we can," Chares said, rising to his full height. "Zeus, how my back aches! I hate this skulking."

Apparently the sentinel at the guard-house whom they had passed understood at last what was the matter. He roused the rest of the guard. Clearchus and Nathan pulled Chares down into the shadow. They were so near that they could hear what was said.

"Captives have escaped! They are coming up by the prison stairway!" the man told his companions in an excited voice. "They are asking us to stop them. Boupares himself is on his way up."

The men came tumbling out of the guard-house and ran to the inner edge of the wall, shouting down with much gesticulation that they would meet the fugitives. Then they hastened back toward the prison.

"Much good that will do them," Chares laughed.

"We have still a few moments," Clearchus said. "Where was the rope to be?"

"Here – opposite the Tower of Baal," Nathan replied.

"Look on the outside of the wall; it may be there," the Athenian suggested.

Nathan climbed upon the parapet and looked over.

"Here it is," he cried joyfully. "Follow me!"

As he spoke, he slipped over the edge of the wall and vanished.

"Follow him, Chares," Clearchus said. "Go quickly!"

"You first," the Theban answered doggedly.

"No," Clearchus answered with firmness. "It is my turn to guard the rear. I shall not stir until you are over the wall."

"Very well, have your way," Chares replied.

He vaulted upon the parapet and looked down. The rope had been attached to a bar of iron driven firmly into the bricks near the coping, and it dangled from between his feet into the gulf beneath him. The cord seemed slender to sustain his weight, but there was no time in which to test it. Swinging himself over the edge, he grasped the bar and then the rope, letting himself down hand over hand, with his feet against the rough surface of the wall. From the twitching of the cord in his hands, he knew that Nathan had not yet reached the bottom. He wondered how long it would be before the rope would break and send him headlong into the dark abyss.

Clearchus, left alone behind the parapet, flattened his body in the shadow and waited. He had seen Chares begin his descent, and he knew that the rope would not sustain the weight of all three at the same time. He resolved to allow Chares an opportunity to reach the foot of the wall before he himself started down. He counted upon the mistake that the sentries had made, in going back to the prison staircase in their search, to give him time.

Hardly had Chares disappeared before a company of soldiers, with torches in their hands, emerged from the head of the great stairway. The glare searched every corner on top of the wall, and the Athenian saw that concealment was no longer possible.

He knew that he must act promptly. The faces of the new arrivals were turned toward the sentinels, who were still engaged in searching about the prison stairway. It could be only a few moments before the futility of further effort in that direction must become evident to them, and the hunt would turn toward where he lay.

Should he attempt to gain the great staircase and slip into the city, where the Israelites might hide him, at least for a time? It would be impossible to evade the soldiers who were still coming up. He dismissed the idea from his mind.

Possibly he could escape along the southern stretch of wall. Beyond him at a distance there seemed to be a bridge, or causeway, connecting the wall with the enormous mass of earth and bricks that upheld the Hanging Gardens. The groves of palms and the tangle of shrubbery that crowned the Gardens might conceal him, even though the place was within the precincts of the palace itself.

He was about to try this plan and had already partly risen to put it into execution, when he saw the guard turning out at a station between him and the causeway. His chance of flight in that direction was cut off.

He could hear the chafing of the rope against the bricks on the other side of the parapet. Chares was still lowering himself toward the river. To try the rope now would be not only to endanger the lives of his two friends by overstraining the cord, but to reveal their mode of escape and expose them to certain death, since the guard would lose no time in cutting it.

Clearchus felt that he had been caught in a trap from which there was no outlet. He thought of the words the jailer had used in describing the death allotted to them. He thought of Artemisia, defenceless in Tyre. A vision of the life he had hoped to lead in the pleasant city of his birth, with her at his side, flitted through his mind. The Gods had bestowed upon him the hope of happiness that was not to be fulfilled. Chares would tell Artemisia how he died. At least she would know that he had given his life for his friend.

So ran the young man's thoughts as he lay awaiting the moment of discovery. His mind was made up. They would never take him back to the prison. Perhaps his friends might recover his body and give it burial amid the groves beyond the river.

Although the time seemed long, in reality only a few minutes passed before the portly form of Boupares, supported on either side by a stalwart soldier, appeared upon the platform at the head of the broad stair. The governor was out of breath and also out of patience. The knowledge that he would find it difficult to account for the loss of the prisoners weighed upon his mind.

The guards crowded about him with explanations and excuses. No trace could be found of the fugitives, they told him. It was certain they had not reached the top of the wall. If they had, they must have wings, since they had disappeared, leaving no trace.

"Search, you dogs!" Boupares gasped. "A thousand darics to the man who finds them!"

The moment was at hand. Clearchus unclasped the fibula that fastened the chiton upon his shoulder and drew his feet out of his sandals.

There was a cry from one of the guards. He had found the body of the sentinel. A group gathered about it to see. It was proof that the fugitives had passed along the wall, and all eyes were directed toward the Athenian's hiding-place.

Clearchus let fall his garments and with a bound gained the top of the parapet. The red light of the torches shone full upon his naked figure, gleaming against the dark sky, as perfect in every line as the form of Phœbus Apollo. For an instant the soldiers were dumb with astonishment and superstitious dread. The shape had appeared where there had been nothing a moment before. It seemed to them that it must be that of a God. Then one of them caught sight of the abandoned chiton and the spell was broken.

"Seize him! Strike him down!" they cried.

"Take him alive!" bellowed Boupares.

Clearchus turned his back upon them and gave a single glance at the wide sweep of water that eddied and gurgled at the foot of the great wall, how far below him he dared not guess. A javelin hissed past him and was swallowed by the darkness. With muscles as firm as steel, he took two steps forward and shot out from the dizzy height.

He heard the cry of astonishment and involuntary alarm from the soldiers behind him. The light of the torches flashed in his eyes, and then fled suddenly upward.

He looked down upon the wrinkled surface of the river. The impetus of his leap had carried him out beyond the slope of the wall, and he saw that he would strike the water as he had planned, instead of being dashed to pieces.

The rushing air blinded him like a mighty wind. He heard its roar in his ears. Mechanically he pressed the palms of his hands together below his head, and stiffened and straightened his body so that it might offer no surface of resistance in the plunge. Then he knew no more.

Faintly the cry of the guards floated downward. Their torches twinkled over the parapet. Chares, who, with aching arms, was clinging to the last few fathoms of the rope, looked upward. So did Nathan, pausing in his task of fitting a pair of oars to the rowlocks of a small boat that he had pushed out from the wall.

They saw the form of Clearchus as it shot downward from the sky. They saw it strike the water not twenty feet from them, leaving a circle of foam, with hardly a splash to mark where it had fallen, so straight and true was its descent.

Chares let the end of the rope slip through his hands and leaped into the boat. With a few rapid strokes Nathan brought the little craft to the centre of the widening ripple, where the bubbles were still rising. Both leaned over the gunwale, straining their eyes for sight of the body in the dark water.

A minute passed, and another, while they held their breath. Then Nathan uttered a cry.

"There he is!" he shouted, pointing downward.

It was only a glimmer of white under the ripple, which showed for an instant and was gone; but Chares plunged from the boat and disappeared beneath the surface. When he rose, he held the body of his friend across his arm, hanging limp and apparently lifeless. Nathan drew it into the boat and then helped Chares to his place in the stern.

"Is he dead, think you?" the Theban asked, taking the form across his knees as though it were that of a child.

"There is no mark on him; he may be only stunned," Nathan replied, resuming his oars.

Chares gazed at the pale face, with the dripping hair streaming back from its temples, and, bending forward, placed his ear over the heart.

"It beats," he cried. "He lives! Pull away, Nathan, and let the jackals howl!"

Arrows and javelins struck the water around the boat, but there was little danger from the marksmen above, unless some missile should find them by chance. The craft was almost indistinguishable from the top of the wall.

Nathan worked hard at the oars, while Chares rolled the body of Clearchus on his knees. Then he rubbed the pale limbs briskly and by no means gently until the blood began to circulate again. At last Clearchus opened his eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Is this the Styx?" he asked faintly. "Is the story true then, after all?"

"Not yet," Chares replied, with a laugh. "Your time has not yet come. You are dreaming."

Clearchus turned his head and saw the precipice of the mighty wall, rising black toward the stars and crowned with the red glow of the torches.

"Did I dive from there?" he asked wonderingly; "or is that, too, a dream?"

"It is no dream," Chares replied, "but a deed that will be told throughout the army for the Companions to envy. Give me the oars, Nathan; I need exercise."

Nathan yielded the oars, and the tough blades bent as the Theban threw his weight upon them. The boat sped through the water toward a grove of trees that stood like a patch of darker shadow on the other shore. From behind they could hear the clank of levers, and they knew the river-gate was being opened. Boupares had ordered pursuit; but they were a mile away before the first of the biremes shot out from the portal. A few minutes more and they had reached the friendly grove and entered the mouth of one of the numerous canals which formed a network through the plain as complicated as the Cretan labyrinth.

"Now let them search," said Nathan. "I would not stand in Boupares' shoes to-morrow!"

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SLUICE GATE

Cautiously and in silence they threaded their way from one branch of the canal to another, through the fields of grain and vegetables that spread like a vast garden for miles across the low country. Here and there along the banks were farmers' huts, and occasionally they passed through the estate of a Persian landowner who followed agriculture as the noblest pursuit in which a man could engage, according to the teachings of his religion. In many places the canal was shut in on both sides by reeds which reached a height of ten, or even fifteen, feet.

They had proceeded for perhaps two hours and had made so many turns that the Greeks had long ago lost all idea of direction, when they reached a cluster of date-palms. Nathan guided the boat to a landing-place, and they stepped ashore.

"Jonathan, are you there?" he called softly.

"I am here," replied a guarded voice, and from among the trees stood forth the figure of an old man. "Pull your boat ashore and follow me," he said briefly.

They lifted the boat out of the canal and concealed it carefully among the rushes. The old man conducted them along a narrow path which brought them to a group of farm buildings, among which stood a large country house. They entered by the rear and passed through several dark passages until they came to a door, before which Jonathan halted and knocked. A deep voice from within bade them enter. They found themselves in a large, dimly lighted room, the walls of which were lined with cases filled with rolls of papyrus. On a long table stood a shaded lamp among scattered papyri, half unrolled, and the materials for writing.

A man of venerable appearance, with a spreading white beard, which reached his girdle, rose from the table to greet them.

"This is Nehemiah, whose ancestor was Daniel the prophet, viceroy of Babylon," Nathan said. "These are the Greeks, Clearchus of Athens and Chares of Thebes, concerning whom I wrote thee," he added, turning to the old man.

"You are welcome in this house," Nehemiah said gravely. "Jonathan, bring food and wine."

He gathered the manuscripts tenderly from the table and laid them away, setting chairs for his guests. While the refreshment was being prepared Nathan related the adventures of their escape, to which the old man listened with close attention.

"Thou hast done well," Nehemiah said, when Nathan came to the end. "I have been considering that which thou told me, of the vision of the viceroy in the third year of Belshazzar, at Susa, by the River Ulai, and verily do I believe that thou art right. The rough he-goat is come out of the West, and for the kingdom of Persia, the time of its end is at hand. I have examined the writings of Daniel, in which, as Gabriel ordered him, he shut up the vision two hundred years ago. The kingdom of Israel is bound to the Archæmenian line; but if thou canst win for thy people the favor of the he-goat, thou mayst be the means of saving them."

"I shall try," Nathan replied simply.

"Thou wilt understand," Nehemiah continued, addressing himself to Clearchus, "that if I am to aid you, it must be done in secret. It is evident that you are in need of rest," he added, glancing at Chares, who was nodding over the golden goblet that he had emptied. "A hue and cry will be raised for you, but I think I can keep you safe until you have gained strength for your long journey."

Having dismissed Jonathan, he took up the lamp and led them to a hidden chamber in the upper part of the house, where he left them. They fell asleep at daybreak and woke at nightfall. After they had eaten, Nehemiah provided them with fresh garments and with horses of the Nisæan breed, the fleetest in his stable, and gave them weapons. He also furnished them with money for their flight.

"My men have brought me word from the city of your escape," he said, "and the Great King is filled with wrath. Ten of the guard were crucified this morning at the gates; but Boupares so far has not been arrested. All the court is talking about Clearchus' plunge from the wall. It is thought that Beltis herself must have borne him up, and it is even said that the Goddess was seen in the air beside him. Her priests will make the most of it, and, should you be taken, this may be turned to account."

"What knowest thou of the pursuit, father?" Nathan asked.

"They have sent out a thousand horsemen to search the plain on this side of the river," the old man replied. "Thou wilt use caution and hold to the unfrequented ways until the chase slackens. For the rest, put thy trust in the Most High. He will save thee out of their hands if He so wills it. Farewell."

They rode into the night under the stars, bearing away from the river, and keeping to paths known to Nathan among the reeds and groves. At frequent intervals they came upon one or another of the canals which intersected the plain in all directions. Chares and Clearchus were filled with wonder at the enormous amount of labor that had been expended in digging the great ditches which carried the water of the river for irrigating the plain, and at the system of reservoirs by which it was stored for the dry season. Some of these formed lakes of considerable size, dammed by great gates built of timber that could be raised or lowered by means of levers.

As they proceeded westward toward the desert which lay between them and the land of Israel, the level country was broken by low ridges and hills, between which wound the canals. Vegetation became less luxuriant and the houses less frequent.

Twice at the beginning of their ride they heard parties of horsemen near them, whom they took to be detachments of the searchers. Once they turned aside into a crossroad just in time to avoid a meeting. But as they approached nearer to the border between the waste and the cultivated bottom lands, no sounds reached their ears excepting the trampling of their own horses, and they began to hope that they had left their pursuers behind.

"Tell me, Clearchus," Chares said, after a period of reflection, "is there any truth in what they say about you?"

"What do you mean?" Clearchus replied.

"Why, about this Beltis, you know. Is it true that you are a modern Endymion?"

"I don't know anything about her," Clearchus said.

"I thought you had more confidence in me," the Theban continued reproachfully. "If you think I shall say anything about it when we reach Tyre, you are mistaken. I hope I know enough to hold my tongue about such delicate matters. Is she as handsome as they say she is?"

"Listen!" whispered Nathan, holding up his hand and drawing rein.

The others came to a halt. They had been riding up a shallow valley along one of the canals. Beside them rose a low ridge which separated them from the next depression. Beyond this ridge they could hear the beating of hoofs and the jingling of bridles. From the sound they judged that twenty or thirty horsemen were advancing in a direction parallel to their own.

"The roads join half a mile farther on," Nathan whispered. "It is more than likely that they will turn back along this one."

"Then we must make a dash for it and get there first," Chares said. "Come on, I feel as though a race would do me good!"

"We might cross the ridge and fall in behind them," Clearchus suggested.

"Don't spoil sport; and besides, they would surely see us," Chares replied. "Forward! Is not thy Beltis with us?"

Without waiting for a reply he struck in his spurs and darted forward, with the others thundering at his heels. The party beyond the ridge, hearing the hoof-beats, also broke into a gallop, evidently being acquainted with the fact that the roads converged. Their horses, however, were no match for the Nisæans. Neck and neck, with long, even strides, they raced up the road and swept past the meeting point while the pursuers were still a hundred yards away.

Nathan looked back and recognized the uniform of the palace guard. The detachment consisted of men who, he knew, were both brave and skilful, and who would not relinquish the chase while a chance of success remained. Their numbers made it impossible to think of facing them. There was nothing for it but to keep on.

Beyond the point where the roads joined the ridges became higher and steeper, drawing together until there was barely room for the track beside the canal. It was no longer practicable to leave the valley, because to climb the acclivity that shut them in on either side would have been difficult work for a footman, and it was out of the question for horses. The gorge turned and twisted between the hills. Although Nathan had never travelled this road before, he drew comfort from the fact that the canal still flowed sluggishly beside them. It must lead them eventually, he believed, to more open country.

They had ridden a little more than a mile through this defile, which seemed once to have been the bed of a stream, when Chares, who was in the lead, drew up with a cry of dismay. Further progress was barred by a steep dam of earth and stone. In the middle of the dam was the usual gate, built of heavy timbers and planks. The water spurted through the cracks into the bed of the canal.