Produced by Al Haines
[Transcriber's note: In this text file, "[oe]" represents the
oe-ligature character]
THE GOLDEN HOPE
_A STORY OF THE TIME OF
KING ALEXANDER THE GREAT_
BY
ROBERT H. FULLER
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1905,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1905. Reprinted May, 1906.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
"_For what was all his war in Asia after the death of Philippus, but
tempests, extreme heats, wonderful deep rivers, marvellous high
mountains, monstrous beasts for greatness to behold, wild savage
fashions of life, change and alteration of governors upon every
occasion, yea treasons and rebellions of some? At the beginning of his
voyage, Greece did yet lay their heads together, for the remembrance of
the wars that Philippus made upon them: the towns gathered together:
Macedonia inclined to some change and alteration: divers people far and
near lay in wait to see what their neighbours would do: the gold and
silver of Persia flowing in the orators' purses, and governors of the
people did raise up Peloponnese: Philippus' treasure and coffers were
empty, and the debts were great. In despite of all these troubles, and
in the middest of his poverty, a young man, but newly come to man's
estate, durst in his mind think of the conquest of Asia, yea of the
empire of the whole world, with thirty thousand footmen and five
thousand horse, ... howbeit he was furnished with magnanimity, with
temperance, with wisdom, and valour: being more holpen in this martial
enterprise, with that he had learned of his tutor Aristotle, than with
that which his father Philippus had left him.... In Alexander's
actions they see, that his valiantness is gentle, his gentleness
valiant: his liberality, husbandry, his choler soon down, his loves
temperate, his pastimes not idle, and his travels gracious. What is he
that hath mingled feasting with wars, and military expeditions with
sports? Who hath intermingled in the middest of his besieging of
towns: and in the middest of skirmishes and fights, sports, banquets,
and wedding songs? Who was ever more enemy to those that did wrong,
nor more gracious to the afflicted? Who was ever more cruel to those
that fought, or more just unto suppliants?_"
--NORTH'S _Plutarch_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THREE FRIENDS MEET
II. WARNING FROM THE GODS
III. ARISTON LAYS A PLOT
IV. THE VOICE OF DEMOSTHENES
V. THE BANQUET
VI. SYPHAX EARNS HIS REWARD
VII. THE RESPONSE OF THE ORACLE
VIII. THE THUNDERBOLT FALLS
IX. THE DOOM OF THEBES
X. CHARES BARTERS HIS SWORD
XI. THAIS
XII. MENA READS A LETTER
XIII. THE UNQUENCHABLE FIRE
XIV. ACROSS THE HELLESPONT
XV. THAIS AND ARTEMISIA
XVI. IN THE CAMP OF THE MERCENARIES
XVII. THE TRAGEDY OF THE MARSH
XVIII. GREEK AND BARBARIAN
XIX. THE ROUT OF THE SATRAPS
XX. MENA MAKES A DISCOVERY
XXI. PHRADATES TRIUMPHS
XXII. THE VISION OF DANIEL, THE VICEROY
XXIII. IN THE WHIRLWIND'S TRACK
XXIV. THE GORDIAN KNOT
XXV. BESSUS COMES TO BABYLON
XXVI. THE GREAT KING IS ANGRY
XXVII. NATHAN KEEPS HIS WORD
XXVIII. BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY
XXIX. THE SLUICE GATE
XXX. LEONIDAS UNDERTAKES A MISSION
XXXI. ALEXANDER IS SURPRISED
XXXII. THE WORLD AT STAKE
XXXIII. THE CHESTNUT MARE
XXXIV. IN THE PAVILION OF THE QUEENS
XXXV. PHRADATES MAKES A WAGER
XXXVI. TYRE ACCEPTS THE CHALLENGE
XXXVII. THE JEST OF KING AZEMILCUS
XXXVIII. MENA REVEALS A SECRET
XXXIX. JOEL BRINGS BAD NEWS
XL. THE GAP OF DEATH
XLI. PRINCE HUR'S COUNTERPLOT
XLII. A TRAITOR IN PURPLE
XLIII. THI KING TAKES HIS REVENGE
XLIV. THE REVOLT OF THE ISRAELITES
XLV. MOLOCH CLAIMS HIS SACRIFICE
XLVI. THE PASSING OF A GOD
XLVII. SYPHAX SQUARES HIS ACCOUNT
XLVIII. THAIS GIVES A FEAST
XLIX. CHARES FINDS REST
L. PROMISES FULFILLED
LI. AMID FRAGMENTS OF EMPIRE
THE GOLDEN HOPE
CHAPTER I
THREE FRIENDS MEET
Athens was rousing herself from sleep. The beams of the morning sun
bathed the rugged sides of Mount Hymettus and lightened the dark
foliage that clothed the nearer wooded slopes of Lycabettus. The low,
flat-roofed houses of the city were still nothing more than blurred
masses of gray in the shadow; but presently a ray touched the point of
Athene's spear, and the flood of orange light flowed over the
Acropolis. Its temples and statues were enveloped in a radiance which
fused the rich, harmonious colors of column and cornice and melted the
massive outlines into a resplendent whole, rising immortal from the
gloom at its base.
Thin curls of smoke mounted here and there above the housetops,
straight up toward the limitless turquoise vault of the sky. The
vivifying freshness of the new-born day was in the air.
There was a clatter of hoofs in the Street of Pericles, and two young
men, followed by three mounted servants, swung into view.
"By Zeus, Leonidas!" cried the foremost of the riders, drawing rein and
pointing to the Acropolis, "that is worth riding all night to see!"
"You mean the sunrise?" the other asked, also coming to a halt.
"Pshaw! You may see that any day without sitting up for it."
"Not I!" said his companion, laughing. "I love the lamps too well."
Leonidas shrugged his square shoulders. "It's not the lamps you love,
Chares," he returned dryly. "But why are we idling here? Unless we
make haste, Clearchus will be out of bed before we can surprise him."
"Come on, then!" Chares cried, urging his tired horse. "By Heracles!
what's that?"
The three servants had ridden forward in advance of their masters.
From the direction they had taken, the young men heard a confusion of
angry voices, mingled with oaths. In another moment they saw that the
street was blocked by a gorgeous litter borne on the shoulders of four
sturdy slaves and surrounded by a dozen more, some of whom carried
torches which burned pale in the morning light. The litter-bearers had
refused to draw aside, and the guard was attempting to turn the
horsemen back. Evidently some youth had been overtaken at his revelry
by the dawn and was now being carried home by slaves who had followed
his example at the wine-cup.
A bustling little man, with close-cropped hair and the sharp-nosed face
of a fox, was shaking his sword in the faces of the riders.
"Back with you! Back!" he shouted. "Do you seek to halt the noble
Phradates? Back, while you may!"
The curtains of the litter parted, and a young man's face, crimson with
wrath and wine, appeared at the opening. He wore upon his head a
wreath of wilted roses, which had slipped sidewise over one ear.
"What is the matter, Mena?" he called thickly. "Cut the rascals down!"
The three servants hesitated, looking back to their masters for
instructions.
"Here is sport!" Chares cried, his eyes sparkling. "Let us ride
through them! They need a lesson."
Leonidas made no answer, but shook his bridle rein free and plunged his
spurs into the flanks of his horse.
"Way! Way!" Chares cried in a mighty voice, as they thundered down
upon the obstinate group. "Follow us, my lads!" he shouted to the
servants as he swept past.
The officious man with the sharp nose dropped his sword and scrambled
up the steps of a house, but before the rest could follow his example
the five horsemen were among them, and they were rolling under foot
with their torches. Chares swerved his horse skilfully against the
litter in such a manner that it was overturned. Its occupant pitched
head foremost into the street, and the litter fell on top of him,
burying him beneath a mass of curtains and silken cushions, among which
he struggled like some gigantic insect caught in a web.
"You shall pay for this!" he gasped from the wreckage, shaking his fist
after the little cavalcade. "I am Phradates!"
Chares laughed until the street echoed, and even Leonidas could not
forbear a smile when he glanced back upon the havoc their passage had
caused.
"We must ask Clearchus who this fellow is," Chares said. "Here is the
house."
He sprang down in front of a dwelling of white marble and ran to the
gate.
"Hola!" he shouted. "Let us in! Do you intend to keep your master's
guests all day at his door? Open, then!"
After a slight delay there was a sound of falling bars, and the grating
swung back, revealing a drowsy slave in the entrance.
"Is it you, my master? Enter; you are welcome," the man said, bowing
before Chares.
"Is Clearchus awake?" Chares demanded eagerly.
"I think not, sir," the slave replied.
"Then we will rouse him!" Chares cried, running across the outer court
and into the house. Leonidas followed more deliberately, leaving the
attendants to care for the horses.
Chares did not stop to return the greeting of the slave who opened the
house door for him, but dashed through the corridor that led to the
inner court, shouting at the top of his voice: "Clearchus! Wake up,
sluggard, and feed the hungry, or the Gods will turn their faces from
you! Dreamer, where art thou?"
Just as he emerged from the corridor to the spacious inner court, the
young man came suddenly upon a fresh-faced slave girl, who was busied
with some early duties about the broad cistern filled with lotus
flowers.
"Aphrodite, as I live!" Chares cried, throwing his arms about her and
kissing her on the lips with a smack. The girl fled, laughing and
blushing, to the women's quarters, and at the same moment the master of
the house, awakened by the uproar, appeared on the threshold of his
chamber.
"Chares!" he cried, coming forward with outstretched hands. "Who else
could it be, indeed!"
"Oh, Clearchus," Chares said, "what hardships and perils we have passed
to reach thee!"
"And here is Leonidas," said the Athenian, freeing himself from the
embrace of Chares as the second of his guests entered the court. "Both
my brothers here! For this I owe a sacrifice of thanksgiving which I
shall not fail to pay. But what fortunate chance brings you to Athens?"
"We were sitting quietly enough in Thebes, talking of you," Leonidas
replied, "when this madcap declared that he would not live another day
without seeing you and that he intended to make you give him breakfast.
Piso, who was with us, fell into dispute with him, offering to wager
twenty minæ that we could not ride here before midday. Chares
maintained that he would wake you this morning or forfeit the stake,
and here we are."
"And so you have ridden all night?" Clearchus asked.
"All night, amid dangers and darkness, only to see you!" Chares replied
gayly, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. "And now, have
you anything to eat in the house? I am like a famished wolf."
"Come with me," Clearchus said, leading the way into a large room
opening from the left of the court. The sunlight streamed in from the
garden outside, over rich Persian carpets which covered the floor. The
walls were frescoed with scenes from the Iliad of Homer, drawn with
marvellous skill. Painted statuettes stood in niches of stone. Chairs
and tables of ebony, cypress, and cedar were scattered through the
room, and soft couches invited rest. Clearchus struck a bell, and a
grave man of middle age appeared in the doorway.
"Send us food, Cleon," Clearchus said.
The steward withdrew, and two younger slaves entered. They quickly
divested Chares and Leonidas of their riding cloaks and swords and
washed their hands in bowls of scented water, drying them upon linen
towels. They were followed by other slaves bearing trays of cold fowl,
bread, and wine.
"This seems like getting home," Chares exclaimed, throwing himself upon
one of the couches and leaning back luxuriously upon the cushions of
down which the slaves hastened to arrange behind him while he helped
himself to food from the table. "By the Gods, Clearchus, unless you
stop growing handsome, Ph[oe]bus will be jealous of you!"
The Athenian flushed like a girl. He was a clean-cut, clear-eyed young
man, hardly more than twenty-one years old, with a face and figure that
might have served as a model for Phidias himself. Although slender,
his form was graceful, with the ease that comes only from well-trained
muscles. Brown curls covered his head, and the glance of his dark eyes
was steady and straightforward, with a singular earnestness. His
expression was thoughtful and his mouth betrayed a sensitive delicacy.
His parents had died when he was still a lad. His father, Cleanor,
bequeathed to him an immense fortune, amassed in the mines, which had
been managed by his uncle, Ariston, until he became of age. His wealth
made him envied by the fashionable young men of Athens, but he had few
friends among them. He cared nothing for their drinking-bouts,
cock-fights, and gaming, and he had no ambition in politics except to
do his duty as a citizen of Athens. Deep in his heart he worshipped
the city and her glorious achievements, especially those of the
intellect, with fanatical devotion.
Chares, too, belonged to a family of wealth and influence, for his
father, Jason, had been one of the foremost men in Thebes. In height
he stood more than six feet, and the knotted muscles of his arms
indicated enormous strength. He was buoyant, light-hearted,
irresponsible, and pleasure-loving. His affection for the Athenian,
whom he had known from boyhood, was the strongest impulse in him.
They had first met Leonidas at the Olympic Games, where he won the
laurel crown in the chariot race, and they had there admitted him to
their friendship. Different as they were from each other, there seemed
little in common between either of them and the swarthy Lacedæmonian
who lay eating silently while they chattered gossip of mutual
acquaintances. Leonidas was rather below the middle stature, all bone
and sinew, practised in arms, and inured to hardships from his
childhood by the unbending discipline of Sparta. His dark hair grew
low down on his forehead and his black eyes were set deep under
overhanging brows. He neither shared nor wished to understand the
delight which Clearchus felt in a perfect statue or a masterpiece of
painting. He scorned the philosophers and poets. Upon the
questionable pleasures to which Chares gave his days and nights, he
looked with good-natured contempt. The narrow prejudices of his
country were ingrained too deeply in his character to be disturbed by
any change of surroundings. He valued more highly the consciousness
that in his veins ran a few drops of the blood of the Lion of
Thermopylæ than all the riches of the world.
In each of the three young men who met in the house of Clearchus were
typified many of the characteristics of the states to which they
belonged. Athens, Thebes, and Sparta in turn had held the supremacy in
the little peninsula to which the civilized world was confined.
Contrasted as they were, there was still a bond between them that had
been welded by centuries of association.
"Tell me," Clearchus said, after their hunger had been somewhat
appeased, "what is the news of Thebes? Are the Macedonians still
perched in the Cadmea?"
"They are," Chares replied lazily. "We are still in the grasp of the
barbarian; but our plotters are at work and they tell me that soon we
shall break it."
"Do you mean they are planning revolt?" Clearchus asked eagerly.
"Don't get excited," the Theban responded. "It will give you
indigestion. They have revolted already, thanks to the gold your city
sent them, and the barbarians are eating their corn in the citadel just
at present, waiting for something to turn up."
"But that means war, Chares," Clearchus exclaimed.
"Well," Chares replied, "that will give Leonidas a chance to clear the
rust from his sword. You know he is in the market."
"That is true," the Spartan said in response to Clearchus' glance of
inquiry. "No man can live on air. I follow my profession where there
is work to be done."
There was nothing disgraceful in this avowal. If his own country was
at peace, a Greek soldier might sell his sword to the highest bidder,
as did Xenophon, without reproach.
"And I suppose you, too, will be fighting, Chares?" said Clearchus.
"As to that, I don't know," the Theban answered, stretching himself
with a yawn. "Perhaps the best thing that could happen to us would be
to have the Macedonian conquer and rule. It would put an end to our
own wars. If matters go on as they have been going, all three of us
may be trying to cut each other's throats before the month is out."
"No," Clearchus exclaimed, "that cannot be, because you must promise me
to stay here and drink at my wedding feast at the next new moon."
"What, Clearchus! you are going to be married?" Chares cried, springing
from his couch. "Who is she?"
"Artemisia, daughter of Theorus," Clearchus answered. "She is the most
beautiful--"
"Ho, Cleon, Cleon! Where are you?" Chares shouted at the top of his
voice. "Cleon, I say!"
The steward ran into the room in alarm.
"Bring wine of Cyprus, quickly!" Chares cried, waving his arms.
Cleon vanished with a smile, and Chares hastened to embrace his friend
with a fervor that threatened to crack his ribs. Leonidas grasped him
warmly by the hand, and both showered congratulations upon him.
"We pledge thee!" Chares cried, taking the wine that Cleon brought in a
great beaker of carved silver and raising it to his lips, after
spilling a portion of its contents in libation.
"May the Gods give thee happiness!" Leonidas said, drinking deep in his
turn.
"Neither war, famine, nor pestilence shall take us from thee until thou
art married," Chares cried, half in jest. "We swear it, Leonidas, by
the head of Zeus!"
"We swear it!" the Spartan echoed, and each of them again pressed the
young man's hand.
"I expected no less of you," Clearchus said, smiling into the faces of
his companions. "It makes my heart glad to know that you will be with
me. But after your long ride you must both be used up. I will leave
you to get an hour or two of sleep before the Assembly which has been
called for this afternoon to hear what Demosthenes has to say upon our
policy toward Macedon. You will want to hear him, of course."
"Go, Clearchus," Chares said, laughing. "That is a long speech to tell
us that you would like to be rid of us while you go to your Artemisia.
Come back in time for the bath, that's all."