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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.

As she stood there, a butterfly danced in upon the sunlight, fluttered about her head, and finally settled upon her hair, slowly opening and shutting its red-brown wings, mottled with darker spots. Like a sudden breeze in a ripened field of grain, a whisper of admiration and superstitious wonder ran through the room. Thais raised her eyes, and the shadow of a smile parted her crimson lips, showing the pearly gleam of her teeth.

Thus for a moment she stood in the sunlight before the gaze of the assemblage that thronged about the Rhodian general. The flower of her womanhood seemed to exhale a nameless, sensuous fascination, like the strange perfume of a rare exotic, the spell of which was longing and desire.

"Bring in the prisoners," Memnon said.

Clearchus and Chares were led into the room before Thais. She turned to them with a swift warning in her glance that stopped the words of protest on the lips of the Theban.

"Leave them to me," her eyes seemed to say.

"Do you know these men?" Memnon asked courteously.

"I know them," she assented, in a voice that sounded singularly sweet and timid. "They are Chares, who was of Thebes, and Clearchus, of Athens."

"Can you tell what brought them here?" Memnon asked.

"They left Athens in search of Artemisia, as all Athens knows," Thais returned.

Her answer had substantiated the story of the prisoners. Memnon turned inquiringly to Orontobates.

"It may be that this is some trick," the Persian said softly, in his own tongue. "Who knows that they have not concerted this story for this occasion?"

"My lord's suspicion is just," Thais returned, smiling upon Orontobates and addressing him in his own language; "but he will observe that I have not seen these men since they left Athens, and, indeed, I did not know they were here."

"Then why did you come here yourself?" Orontobates asked, returning her smile.

"I came because I learned that Artemisia was here, and I, too, wished to find her," Thais replied.

Orontobates shook his head incredulously. "If this young woman, for whom all Athens seems to be seeking, is here in Halicarnassus, doubtless she can be found," he remarked.

"My lord is right," Thais said quietly, "for I have found her."

"Shall we send for her?" Memnon asked, turning to Orontobates, who sat thoughtfully stroking his beard, "or shall we set the prisoners free?"

"Thou knowest that Darius commanded us to send him our captives, so that he might learn for himself concerning the Macedonians," the Persian replied. "We have had few to send, and I think he would like to question these men. By their own confession, they have been in Alexander's army. Dost thou not think it might be well to obey the command relating to them?"

Memnon saw that if he refused he might be charged with disobedience to the Great King, whose lightest word was law, and he could not afford to take the risk.

"Thy words are wise," he said smoothly, hiding the anger that he felt at the Persian's interference. "It shall be as thou hast said. Take away the prisoners," he added to the guard, "and let them be sent to-night to Babylon with the messenger who is to carry my letters to King Darius, my master, – may he live forever!"

"It is well," said Orontobates, with a shade of mockery in his voice.

Clearchus' face grew pale. The thought that Artemisia was so near and that he was about to be separated from her, perhaps forever, without being permitted to see her again, was a blow under which he staggered.

"Why send us both?" Chares demanded, restraining himself with an effort. "I know all that Clearchus knows, and I will tell it freely to the Great King if you will let him go free."

"Two are better than one," Orontobates said. "Thou wilt tell what thou knowest, whether freely or not."

"Take them away," Memnon said harshly, "and see that they speak with nobody before their departure."

Thais followed them with her eyes to the door, where Chares turned his head and smiled at her. She gave him back the smile bravely; but as he passed out of her sight her face changed and became like marble. Her eyes sought those of Orontobates, and she spoke to him in an even voice that vibrated with the intensity of her passion.

"I am a woman, O Persian," she said, "but I say to thee and to thy master that if harm befalls either of these men, the proudest palaces of thy kings shall be their funeral pyre."

A dead hush followed this defiance, and all eyes were turned upon the Persian in expectation of an outbreak; but Orontobates merely smiled upon her as though she were a petulant child and turned again to the study of the maps spread out before him.

CHAPTER XXII
THE VISION OF DANIEL, THE VICEROY

Silent and thoughtful in the midst of the swarthy Arabian guard commanded by Nathan the Israelite, who bore Memnon's letters to the Great King, Clearchus and Chares rode out of the eastern gate of Halicarnassus. Even the Theban's buoyant nature for once was subdued. They were going to what seemed certain death, and they were leaving behind them those they loved most on earth.

To Clearchus this thought was unbearable. He cared not what happened, now that the last hope of rescuing Artemisia was gone. What would become of her? Who could aid her now? He rode with his head sunk on his breast, seeing and hearing nothing of what went on around him. A low fever filled his veins, dulling his senses and leaving him only half conscious of their situation. At times he imagined it was all a dream, from which he would awake, still free to continue the search for his lost love. Then a realization of the truth would return to him, and he groaned aloud in his despair.

The response of the oracle of Delphi, which had supported him, now seemed like a mockery. It had been fulfilled, he thought, when in truth he found Artemisia in the track that Alexander's army was to follow. The Gods had made him their sport, and he fancied them smiling down from the heavens upon his agony. The light of the sun became hateful to him.

So he rode, mile after mile and day after day, in listless and inert abandonment to his fate. Who could resist the will of the Gods? He ate almost nothing, and his strength wasted visibly, while lines of suffering deepened on his face.

In vain Chares sought to rouse him. He returned patient answers to the arguments of the Theban, but his power of effort was gone. In the first stages of their journey Chares watched over him constantly to prevent him from destroying himself in his despair.

Through Lycia, Pisidia, and Cilicia they passed, finding fresh relays of horses at each station along the great highway that had been established by the predecessors of Darius. Through the Amanic Gates they galloped at last, and paused at Thapsacus, on the banks of the mighty Euphrates, where, more than a century and a half before, the Ten Thousand had halted in their desperate dash upon Babylon.

Chares had long ago recovered his cheerful temper. Of what lay before them when they reached the Persian capital he had ceased to think. The condition of Clearchus, and the fact that they had advanced so far toward the heart of the Persian empire, made escape practically impossible. The Theban was regarded rather as a comrade than an enemy by the Arabs of the guard, and his unfailing good nature made the long journey seem less wearisome.

With Nathan he had formed a solid friendship. The young Israelite, browned by the sun and wind, was naturally taciturn and inclined to silence. His form was active and sinewy, and his muscles seemed always on the alert. In his dark eyes burned the mystic intelligence and indomitable earnestness of his race. He rode usually in advance of the little troop, and, although often he seemed wrapped in contemplation, nothing ever escaped him. The contrast between him and the careless, talkative Theban, with his laughing blue eyes and yellow hair, was as complete as possible; and it may have been this very difference in their temperaments that drew them together.

Nathan showed an extraordinary interest in all that related to Alexander, even in his personal appearance and what he had said on this or that occasion. He would listen by the hour while Chares talked of the young Macedonian king, his people, and his court. No suspicion entered the Theban's mind that Nathan was seeking information for the use of his superiors in Babylon. He would have dismissed such a thought as unjust. The Israelite inquired little about Alexander's army, and seemed rather desirous of forming in his own mind a portrait of the young leader. That he reflected deeply upon what Chares told him was shown by the questions that he asked from time to time for the purpose of enabling him to fill out some incomplete detail.

Chares sometimes wondered whether the interest that Nathan displayed in Alexander could have any religious bearing. He had heard from Aristotle of the mysterious and peculiar belief of the Israelites, who worshipped only one God, and who would not suffer an image of Him to be set up in their temple; but his ideas regarding their faith were confused with stories of a hundred other equally insignificant tribes.

His attention was aroused one day by a sudden change in the young Israelite. He became both restless and abstracted. Often he returned no answer to the questions that the Theban put to him, and there seemed to be an unusual luminous depth in his dark eyes. At times his lips moved as though he were conversing with unseen companions. There was a strangeness in his actions and expression that caused even the heedless Theban to feel a vague uneasiness. Toward nightfall, Clearchus, as though drawn by some undefinable bond of sympathy, rode forward and took his place beside Nathan. It was the first time that this had happened since they left Halicarnassus, and Chares watched them with amazement. Neither spoke, but each appeared conscious of the other's presence, and Chares imagined that there was more animation in Clearchus' glance when they halted for the night. At the same time he had a dim sense that something was going on between them that he could not understand.

After the evening meal Nathan sat before the tent that he always occupied with his two prisoners when they spent the night away from human habitation. Clearchus lay beside him, with his head resting on his hand. The Arabs were sleeping in a group beside the tethered horses.

In the measureless depths of the sky the great stars blazed with a steady light. Strange cries of night birds came from the broad river, sweeping silently past them in the darkness. The howl of a jackal sounded faintly in the distance.

Nathan's face was turned toward the south, as though his eyes could see there the walls of the city in whose narrow streets he had played with his companions as a boy. Presently he began to speak.

"He will requite His enemies and those who scorn Him," the Israelite said. "Terrible is His wrath!"

"Is He more powerful than Zeus?" said Clearchus, seeming to comprehend what Nathan meant.

"Yea," Nathan answered solemnly. "Thy Gods are as nothing before Him. Baal He overthrew in Babylon with all his brood."

"I have heard that it was the Persians and not thy people who smote Nebuchadnezzar," Clearchus replied. "Is He the God of the Persians, too?"

"They paid Him honor under the name of Ormazd," the Israelite replied. "While they were faithful to Him, nothing could stand against them; but they have turned their faces from Him, and their time has come. He hath weighed them in His balance, one by one – Chaldean, Egyptian, Assyrian, Phœnician, and Mede. He hath given the victory into their hands; and one by one hath He smitten them until they were humbled in the dust. There is no God but God."

"What hath He done for thee?" the Athenian asked.

"He hath delivered me out of the snares of mine enemies," Nathan replied earnestly, "even when they compassed me about in wrath. Once and again hath He brought my people out of bondage because they worshipped Him alone. He hath made good His promise. He hath never failed us in our hour of need. By the mouths of His holy men hath He given us knowledge of that which is to come; and now once more He will show to the sons of men His wrath and His favor. He shall put down the mighty from their seats."

Chares saw that Nathan's hands were trembling as they lay clasped upon his knees and that drops of moisture glistened upon his forehead.

"His word was given to Daniel, viceroy of the Great King, Belshazzar, in the palace at Susa by the waters of the river Ulai in the time of my fathers' fathers," the Israelite continued. "The mysteries of the future were laid bare to him by Gabriel, Jehovah's servant; and behold, he saw standing before the river, a ram with two horns; and the two horns were high, but one was higher than the other, and the higher came up last. He saw the ram pushing westward and northward and southward, so that no beasts might stand against him. Neither was there any that could deliver out of his hand; but he did according to his will and became great. Lo, these are the words of Daniel, the viceroy.

"And as he stood considering, behold, an he goat came from the West on the face of the whole earth and he touched not the ground. And the he goat had a great horn between his eyes; and that was thy king, who cometh. And while Daniel looked, he saw the he goat come close to the ram and there was no power in the ram to stand before him, but he cast him down to the ground and stamped upon him, and there was none that could deliver the ram from him. These things were seen of Daniel in olden times; and the hour is at hand."

There was silence for a moment, and then Clearchus said slowly: —

"If it is written that Alexander shall overthrow the Great King, why dost thou lead us captives to Babylon?"

"I know not," Nathan replied, "but the command was laid upon me, and it is Jehovah's will that I should obey. Were it not so, He would have told me. How can we know His ways? Who are we that we should question His wisdom? Yet in the end, I have faith that it will be well with thee; for to Him nothing is impossible."

It was long before Clearchus closed his eyes in sleep that night. He lay looking upward at the tranquil and steadfast stars and revolving in his mind the words of the Israelite. Could it be that a Divinity greater than all others existed in the universe, whose will ruled all things? The idea took possession of him, and at the same time hope was renewed in his breast. The Gods whom he had honored had deserted him; perhaps the God of Israel could help him.