The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great. Fuller Robert Higginson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ pressing against the soldiers in the hope of getting a better view. The maiden, Maia, who was the object of the rivalry, was forgotten.

      The scales oscillated slowly and at last settled deliberately on the side toward Chares. The tale was correct and his last thirty minæ had given him the victory. The crowd broke into a cheer.

      "Are you satisfied?" asked the Macedonian captain.

      "No!" Phradates shouted. A red spot glowed on his cheeks and his fingers trembled as he stripped off his rings and his chains of gold. He placed the ornaments on his side of the scales. "I bid thirteen talents," he declared.

      "Payments are to be made in money," Chares remonstrated. "Who can tell what these trinkets are worth?"

      "We may accept them at a true valuation," the captain decided.

      He summoned a jeweller of Corinth, who examined the rings with care, and announced his readiness to take them at a sum sufficient to make up the total of the Phœnician's offer.

      "Phradates wins!" shouted the spectators, cheering the Tyrian with all the enthusiasm that they had shown to his rival a moment before.

      The Theban stood silent. He had nothing more to offer. He raged inwardly at his defeat, for he felt that his honor was involved. While he stood hesitating, nobody seemed to notice a young Macedonian soldier of athletic figure and fresh complexion who had stopped on the outskirts of the crowd and stood listening, with his head slightly inclined to one side.

      Suddenly Chares strode forward and threw his sword upon the scales. The weight of the steel caused the balance to sway decisively toward him.

      "I bid fifteen talents!" he cried. "Let my sword make up the weight of gold that is lacking."

      Phradates laughed mockingly. "Let me have the girl," he said. "It is time to end this child's play. There is no place in the world where a sword is worth three talents."

      "Except here," a voice behind him said quietly.

      Phradates turned, and his eyes met those of the soldier who had been lingering on the edge of the ring of spectators.

      "Here!" the Phœnician exclaimed angrily. "And who is there here to give such a price for it?"

      "I will," the soldier replied with a smile.

      "You will, indeed!" Phradates echoed. "And who are you?"

      "My name is Alexander," the soldier said.

      Phradates turned to the crowd, which had fallen back a little and now stood strangely silent.

      "Who is this insolent fellow?" he cried. "Why do you allow him to interfere here?" he demanded of the captain.

      The captain made no reply, and nobody in the throng ventured to answer. Phradates felt deserted. He stood with Chares and the soldier beside the gold-laden scales, beyond which waited Maia, with her eyes fixed upon the face of the newcomer.

      "Is there no fair dealing in this land of thieves?" Phradates cried, losing his temper absolutely. "The girl is mine! Deliver her to me in accordance with your agreement and let me go. You have your price and it is enough!"

      He made a step forward as though to seize Maia, but the soldier blocked his path.

      "I am Alexander, as I told you," he said, slightly raising his voice. "I will tell you more. You are Phradates of Tyre, sent here by your king and your Council to spy out my strength and learn my plans. You have used the eyes and ears of your slaves. Take what you have learned to King Azemilcus, and with it take also this message: Alexander, King of Macedon, sends word that he is coming with his companions to offer sacrifice to Heracles in his temple, known in the city of Tyre as the temple of Melkarth. Let him prepare the altar."

      Phradates read in the faces of the crowd that the youth who spoke so confidently to him was indeed the king. Nevertheless, he could not wholly stifle his rage.

      "Has your army wings, Macedonian?" he asked insolently. "The walls of Tyre are both high and strong."

      "What is the fate of spies in your country?" Alexander replied. "You are spared to bear my message. Must I choose another?"

      There was something in the tone of these words that brought Phradates to his senses like a plunge into cold water.

      "We shall meet elsewhere," he said, casting a look of hatred at Chares, who stood smiling at his discomfiture.

      "If we do not, I shall never cease to regret it," the Theban replied.

      Mena had been hurriedly putting his master's gold into the sacks in which he had brought it. The waiting slaves took it up and followed Phradates back to his tent.

      "What was it all about?" Alexander asked, glancing from Chares to Maia.

      "I wished to buy her as a present to my mother, as I have bought nearly five hundred of our friends to-day," Chares replied.

      Alexander took up the sword from the scales and drew it from its sheath.

      "It is a good blade," he said, "and I would not deem its price too high if your arm was to wield it in my cause."

      "Was not that included in the purchase?" Chares asked, surprised. "I have made my bargain and I will live up to it."

      "No," said Alexander, gently, "I will not have such an arm at a price. I am no Cyrus to attack the power of Persia with hired weapons. The spirit and the hope that goes with us are not to be bought with gold. Come to me at Pella, if you will, with Clearchus and the Spartan, as soon as your affairs will permit. But if you come, let it be of your free will and not in payment of a debt."

      "I will come," Chares said simply.

      Day was drawing to a close over the plain where the people of Thebes had paid the final penalty for their rebellion. The multitude that had assembled to witness the last scene was melting away. Some of the unfortunates had found friends like Chares to rescue them; but the greater part of the thousands who were sold that day had become the property of strangers. On every side rose the sound of wailing and lamentation. Wives clung sobbing to their husbands until torn from them by their masters. Children wept for mothers they would see no more.

      In the gathering twilight camp-fires began to glow. Slave-dealers bargained and chaffered over their purchases. Melancholy processions moved away into the darkness. Men fettered together gazed back silently but with bursting hearts upon the dark mass of the Cadmea, where it rose, black and huge, against the crimson sky. The air reverberated with the crash of falling houses and walls as the soldiers labored by the light of torches to level the city to the earth. A pall of dust and smoke hung suspended above them. Thebes had become a memory.

      The captives purchased by Chares had been led away by his attendants as fast as each sale was made. When Alexander and the Macedonian soldiers moved off he was left alone with Maia. He had scarcely glanced at her during his duel with Phradates. She stood before him now with bent head, submissively, and he fancied that she was drooping from weariness.

      "Come," he said kindly, extending his hand toward her.

      The girl did not move, but as he approached she raised the scarf that hid her face and her eyes met his.

      "Thais!" he exclaimed. "How did you get here? Where is Maia?"

      There was a tone of displeasure in his voice, and the smile faded СКАЧАТЬ