Kitabı oku: «The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great», sayfa 11

CHAPTER XIX
THE ROUT OF THE SATRAPS

Again and yet again Amyntas was thrust back from the other shore, slippery with mud and clay, while deadly gusts of arrows and javelins beat upon him. Jealous of glory, the young Persian nobles crowded with reckless daring to the brink and overwhelmed him by the weight of their numbers. But they could not drive him off. He clung to the attack with the stubborn tenacity that knows not defeat, refusing to abandon the stream, although his lines were broken and his men were falling around him.

Alexander, watching the battle like a hawk, saw the desperate situation into which he had thrown Amyntas. "Enyalius!" he shouted, calling upon the God of War by the name that the Homeric heroes had used before Ilium; "Enyalius! Follow me, Macedonians!"

The Agema swept down the slope behind the waving plumes of white and struck the river into foam. The disordered ranks of Amyntas raised a breathless cheer as it passed, heading straight for the thickest of the fight. There was a splintering of shafts, a crash of steel upon steel, and from the fierce vortex of the battle rose cries of rage and agony.

Clearchus fastened his eyes upon the double white plume which fluttered before them. He heard the cry "Alexander! Alexander!" run from lip to lip through the Persian host and saw its squadrons rushing down to meet the onset.

A lean, swarthy man, wearing a head-dress that glittered with jewels, aimed a blow at him with his curved sword. The Athenian threw himself back upon his horse to avoid the stroke and thrust the man through the side with his lance.

Alexander was fighting in the foremost rank amid a flashing circle of steel. The Persian courtiers threw themselves upon the Macedonian spears in their eagerness to reach the king and win the honors which they knew would be bestowed upon the fortunate man who should slay him. The young leader seemed heedless of his danger. Twice he spurred his horse up the treacherous bank and twice he was hurled back. The river, from shore to shore, was filled with soldiers fending off as best they might the merciless rain of darts and arrows. The moment was critical. Unless the Agema could gain footing on the Persian side, the day was lost.

"We must end this," roared Chares above the turmoil. "Down with them! Alexander!"

He drove his bloody spur deep into the flank of his powerful steed. The tortured animal leaped at the bank and staggered upward against the living wall that barred the way. A score of swords struck at him, and the polished shield that the Theban held above his head rang beneath the blows that were showered upon it. The great roan gained the top of the bank, but a spearman buried a javelin in his broad chest and his knees gave way. As he fell, Chares leaped from his back and stood firm.

"Alexander!" he cried again, in a mighty voice that rose above the din of conflict like the roar of a lion at bay. His long sword, so heavy that a man of ordinary strength could hardly wield it, though he used both hands, swept on this side and on that in whistling circles. Down went horse and rider before it like grain within the compass of a sickle. For a moment a space was cleared, and in the next the double plume of white flaunted before his eyes as Alexander passed him, and the Theban knew that the shore had been won. The Agema, like a wedge, struck far into the Persian ranks and held there, driven home by the weight of troops behind it.

Mithridates, son-in-law of Darius, infuriated by this success, ordered a charge which should sweep the Macedonians back into the river. Followed by Rhoisakes, his brother, and by a throng of nobles he hurled himself upon the stubborn mountaineers, aiming straight for Alexander. Chares, who was in the path of the avalanche, was swept aside. His shield was shattered upon his arm by the blow of a mace which also broke the fastenings of his helmet. A shout of warning rose from the Agema as it wheeled to face the attack. With sword upraised, Mithridates rushed upon Alexander; but the king's tough lance pierced the scales of his armor before he could deliver his stroke. The prince fell from his horse and rolled beneath the flying hoofs. Rhoisakes, thundering behind him, aimed a blow with his keen battle-axe which shore away the king's crest and half the double plume. At the same moment the satrap Spithridates attacked Alexander from behind, but before his arm could fall, dark Clitus, with an upward stroke, severed his wrist so that his hand, still grasping his hilt, leaped into the air. Rhoisakes met his brother's fate upon Alexander's spear. Dismay filled the Persian ranks. The charge was broken. "Enyalius!" Alexander shouted, and the Agema thundered up the slope against the disordered barbarians.

Clearchus and Leonidas fought close behind Alexander. The Athenian was never afterward able to recall the details of that desperate struggle. His remembrance was a confused blur of thrust and parry, of shouting and confusion. Suddenly, out of the shifting throng, the proud, flushed face of Phradates appeared to him as in a dream. The young man's gaze was fixed and he seemed to be striving to extricate his horse from the press that hemmed him in. Struck by the expression of rage and hate that convulsed his features, Clearchus followed the direction of his glance and saw Chares, with bare head and on foot, holding two adversaries in check with his sword. Blood flowed from a wound upon his cheek, reddening his shoulder and dimming the lustre of his armor. He had been left behind by the cavalry, and the space around him was clear except for the two riders, who had thought to find him an easy victim.

Clearchus read the thought in the dark face of the Phœnician. Phradates had recognized his rival and was bent upon taking him at a disadvantage. The Athenian turned to warn Chares of his peril, but Phradates shot out of the crowd in advance of him and spurred down upon his enemy, bending low upon the neck of his fleet Arabian horse.

"Ho, Chares! Guard thyself!" Clearchus shouted, realizing that he would be too late.

The cry reached the ears of the Theban, who turned his head for an instant and saw Phradates rushing upon him. He leaped forward and hewed one of his adversaries from the back of his horse. The other closed in, aiming a blow with his sword that Chares had barely time to catch upon his own blade. The shoulder of the leaping horse hurtled against him, causing him to stagger and drop his point.

"I have thee, dog!" screamed Phradates.

So intent was the Phœnician upon his ignoble revenge that he had not seen Clearchus, spurring desperately to overtake him. The Athenian heard his shout of triumph and his heart failed.

"I cannot reach him in time!" he groaned.

In a few more strides, Chares would be at the mercy of his foe. Phradates raised his arm to strike at the defenceless head. There was one chance of stopping him and one only. Clearchus hurled his sword at the Phœnician. The hilt of the whirling blade struck Phradates on the arm with such force that, with a cry of pain, he let fall the sword from his benumbed fingers.

"Not this time, Phœnician!" Chares shouted, as Phradates swooped past him. "Go back to Tyre and await my coming; for I follow!"

Clearchus leaped down from his horse and recovered his sword with the intention of pursuing Phradates, but he saw at a glance that the attempt would be useless. The Phœnician, unarmed as he was, fled toward the Persian lines too fast to be overtaken.

He looked around for the second of the two horsemen with whom Chares had been engaged when Phradates attacked him, but the man was nowhere to be seen. He turned to his friend and embraced him.

"You were just in time," Chares said.

"Thank the Gods!" Clearchus replied. "This is no place to die. I think the battle is ours."

Phradates, riding at full speed, passed through the Persian lines and galloped up the slope. Here and there a Persian horseman saw him go and followed. Others, and still others, joined the flight until, like a dam that goes down before the swollen current of a river in spring, the barbarian squadrons wavered and broke, streaming up the hill disordered and panic-stricken, with death at their heels. Their only thought was to save themselves.

Slaughter took the place of conflict. Grim and silent the Macedonian cavalry and the Thessalian horse rode among the fugitives with swords that knew no mercy. In that disastrous rout the pride of Persia's chivalry was dragged in the dust, and the courtier deemed himself fortunate who escaped to tell of his own dishonor.

Past the camp of the despised Greek mercenaries who had been bidden to watch the defenders of the Great King conquer or die, ran the barbarian rabble, with the wolves of Macedon tearing at their flanks. Southward they fled, leaving behind a broad track of the wounded and the dying, and scattering as they went until no semblance of the Persian army remained. Sweet in their ears at last was the music of the trumpet notes that withdrew the pursuit and left them free to take breath.

The mercenaries stood before their camp, unmoved amid the panic, awaiting the command to fight or flee. The order never came. Memnon had fought beside the Persian generals and had been swept away with them, leaving his army to its fate. Below them the Greeks saw the Macedonian phalanx re-forming its ranks, with the cavalry, of which they had none, upon its wings.

"Why should we die for these cowards?" they said, one to another. "They have deserted us and we are free."

They stretched out their hands in supplication toward Alexander.

"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!"