CHARES BARTERS HIS SWORD
What was to be the fate of Thebes? The minds of the wretched
inhabitants of the city were diverted from their sorrows as they asked
each other this question on the morning after the battle. The dead had
been removed from the streets. The wounded had been cared for. The
enemy had withdrawn outside the walls, after posting guards in
sufficient numbers to suppress any rising that the Thebans might be
desperate enough to attempt.
All eyes were directed toward the Cadmea, within whose gray walls the
punishment that was to be visited upon the city was being discussed.
One citizen suggested that a heavy fine would be exacted. Another
declared he had heard that the Thebans would be forbidden to bear arms.
A dozen similar conjectures were made and canvassed before news came
from the Cadmea that Alexander had left the Phocians, the Platæans, and
the B[oe]otians, his allies, to impose the sentence. This announcement
was received in gloomy silence; for more than one Theban recalled how
his city in her day of pride had blotted out Orchomenus and Platæa and
sold their people into bondage.
The anxious watchers in the streets at last saw a stir in the crowd
that waited outside the gates of the citadel. The portals opened, and
the victorious generals, surrounded by waving standards, came out and
began to descend from the rock. The spectators below saw the Thebans
scatter before them, tossing their arms above their heads and rending
their garments. A hush full of dread fell upon the city.
"Thebes must perish! Her walls must go down!" cried one from above
with a despairing gesture.
"We are to be sold for slaves!" shouted another, halting upon a parapet
and making a trumpet of his hands.
The tidings were received with incredulity, followed by stupefaction.
The blow had fallen, and it was worse than even the least sanguine
prophet had predicted. The generals, as they rode toward the gates of
the city, were followed by men who fell on their knees and begged for
quarter. No heed was paid to their prayers, and the escort of soldiers
thrust them back with jeers.
Alexander remained in the Cadmea, where Chares and a handful of the
most prominent Thebans, who had been able to establish guest-friendship
with the royal house of Macedon, sought him to intercede for the city.
They found him alone, sitting with his chin in his hand. They recalled
to him the glorious deeds of Thebes, dwelt upon the misery that the
sentence would inflict upon the innocent, and warned him that all
Hellas would reproach him if he permitted it to be carried into effect.
They admitted the fault of the city and asked forgiveness.
The young king heard them through without stirring.
"All that you have said to me," he replied when they had finished, "I
have already said to myself. Thebes has been false to her oath. I
pardoned her as did Philip, my father. The sentence is not mine, but
that of my allies, and what cause they have, you know. Can I ask them
to forget?"
Terror ran with the news through all Greece. The Athenians, the
Ætolians, and the Elæans, who had encouraged the rebellion with money
and promises of further aid, hastily recalled their troops and sent
ambassadors to sue for mercy. Demosthenes was chosen to plead for
Athens, but when he had advanced on his journey as far as Mount
Cithæron, his courage failed him and he turned back. The young king
sent a messenger to Athens calling upon the Athenians to deliver eight
of their orators who had been foremost in stirring up the people
against Macedon, and the name of Demosthenes stood at the head of the
list.
In the Assembly that was called to consider this demand Demosthenes won
the day by repeating the fable of how once the wolves asked the sheep
to deliver to them their watch-dogs and how, when the demand had been
granted, they fell upon the defenceless flock. But so great was the
fear of Alexander among the people that they might, after all, have
sent the orators to Thebes had not the men who were threatened hired
Demades with a fee of five talents to offer himself as an intermediary.
The offer was accepted and Alexander yielded.
The escape of Demosthenes through the intercession of his inveterate
enemy and the mysterious disappearance of Thais were the talk of the
city when Chares arrived with his two friends, bringing his family with
him. Clearchus received them into his house, where they were to remain
during his absence from Athens in search of Artemisia, following the
directions of the oracle. Ariston was much disappointed when his
nephew refused to exact any rental from his friend. He had taken
charge of Clearchus' fortune again, and it grieved him that any
possible source of income should be neglected. But Clearchus knew that
Chares had need of all his resources; for his mother had drawn up a
list of the friends of the family who had been forced to remain in
Thebes, telling him that he must purchase them and thus save them from
slavery, even if it should take all they possessed in the world. As
the list was long, Clearchus deemed it wise not only to place his house
at the disposal of Jason's widow, but to make provision for its
maintenance out of his own income while he should be away.
He paid no attention to the grumbling of his uncle, who affected to
look upon this generosity as little short of madness. He said so much
to dissuade the young man from his plan, that Clearchus at last was
forced to remonstrate with him.
"One would think that you were on the brink of ruin," he said, "instead
of being one of the richest men in Athens, if reports that I have begun
to hear lately are true."
"Who says that?" Ariston demanded sharply. "He lies, whoever repeats
such things. Whenever you hear it, if you love me, say that it is not
true. If such stories should get to be believed, that accursed
Demosthenes will be forcing me to fit out a trireme for some of his
wild schemes. The times are so troubled that what little I have been
able to save by my frugality for the support of my age I am likely to
lose."
He was not unwilling to have his nephew believe that he was at least
moderately rich, for had Clearchus known the straits his uncle was in,
his suspicions might have been aroused. With his mind full of the loss
of Artemisia, there was small chance that he would discover anything.
Like vultures upon a deserted field of battle the slave-dealers
gathered at the great market of flesh and blood at Thebes. The sale of
the population of the city had been delayed so as to insure a good
attendance; for Alexander had need of the money that it was expected to
yield with which to defray the cost of his expedition against the Great
King. Speculators, traffickers by wholesale, and agents from every
considerable mart in the world, to say nothing of amateurs, flocked to
the city. It was not so much the fact that thirty thousand men and
women were to be offered and the consequent probability of low prices
that drew them as the quality of the victims. It was easy enough to
purchase slaves in almost any number, but there was a vast difference
between ignorant barbarians, captured in distant raids, and the
population of one of the oldest and most cultured of the Grecian
cities. And no comparison was to be made between girls who had been
destined to slavery from their cradles and the Theban maidens reared in
the shelter of luxury and ease.
It had been expected that it would take several days to dispose of the
prisoners, but so numerous were the buyers that the Macedonians decided
to attempt it in one day. For greater convenience, the captives were
separated into companies of about five hundred and brought out upon the
plain before the city, where most of the dealers had pitched their
tents. Each division was guarded by a squad of soldiers commanded by
an officer, whose duty it was to conduct the auction of the group under
his care.
No outcry was permitted among the hapless population. Mothers clasped
their children in their arms, weeping softly over them. Some awaited
their fate with sullen resignation. Others looked for a prodigy to
restore them to freedom and their city. A report had gone abroad that
Dionysus would appear in person and forbid the sale. On all sides rose
the murmur of his name in tones of entreaty or reproach. With anxious
eyes, the believers scanned the sky and the barren hillsides for some
sign, they knew not what. None was vouchsafed. Their God had deserted
them.
In order that the friends whom he was to ransom might not be lost in
the confusion, Chares had obtained consent that they be assembled in
one group. They came last out of the city, clad in garments of
mourning and moving in heavy-footed procession. Lest he should raise
false hopes, Chares had made a secret of his plans. The prisoners
fully expected to pass into the possession of strangers. Old men of
grave face and dignified bearing, who had spent their lives in the
service of the city and whose names were known throughout Greece, led
the way. Behind them walked their women, proud of bearing and
accustomed to the privileges of rank and wealth. Some of the matrons
led daughters who looked with terror upon the strange scenes that met
their eyes. Orphaned children clung to each other in fear, while here
and there new-made widows, whose husbands had been slain when the
strength and vigor of the city were cut off in a day, walked sadly and
alone.
When all had been herded within the ring formed by the guard, the
Macedonian captain who was to conduct the sale of the group that
contained Chares' friends mounted briskly upon a block of stone and
announced the terms prescribed for buyers. Payment was to be made in
all cases in cash, and the purchaser was to have immediate possession.
Chares took a position facing the auctioneer in a knot of dealers who
were searching for some fortunate speculation. These men looked upon
the unhappy Thebans with professional keenness, exchanging comments
among themselves.
"That's a fine old fellow with the white beard," said one. "He looks
as though he might have money out at interest somewhere."
"Probably he's only a philosopher," another said scornfully. "For my
part, I shall buy that thin one. He has been living on bread and water
all his life and he must have a snug sum buried. Trust me to make him
dig it up!"
"There seem to be some marketable girls here," observed a third. "I
find the Medes will pay a better price for them if they have a pedigree
as well as good looks."
Mena, the Egyptian, prying about through the crowd, examined the
captives with speculative eyes. Suddenly he caught sight of a figure
that caused him to stop and stare. It was that of a young woman,
veiled, who seemed to be seeking to conceal herself behind the other
prisoners.
"Who is she?" he asked of one of the guard when he had recovered from
his astonishment.
"She is down on our list as Maia, daughter of Thales," the man replied.
Mena seemed puzzled. "I must find out more about this," he said to
himself, taking his stand at a point of vantage. "Besides, there may
be a chance here to turn a profitable investment."
The chatter ceased as the captain opened a roll of papyrus containing
the names of the prisoners and announced that the sale was about to
begin. The old man with the white beard was the first to be brought
forward. He proved to have been one of the B[oe]otarchs.
"How much am I offered for him?" the captain cried. "He is old, but
his wisdom is all the greater for that."
"Five drachmæ!" shouted a countryman in a patched and faded cloak. "He
gave a decision against me once in a lawsuit."
Everybody laughed at this reason for making a bid, but the farmer
seemed in deadly earnest.
"Five minæ!" Chares said quietly. There was no other bid and the sale
was made.
Then came a slender girl with yellow hair and blue eyes that were
swollen with weeping. Her chiton of fine linen clung in graceful folds
to her slim figure, and she trembled so violently that she could
scarcely stand.
"She ought to fill out well if she lives," said one of the merchants,
stroking his beard, while he examined her carefully. "But it's always
a risk to buy them so young."
"She might be trained to dance," said Mena, who had elbowed his way
into the crowd. "It's worth trying if she goes cheap. Fifty drachmæ!"
"Five minæ!" Chares said again.
"That's ten times what she is worth!" Mena exclaimed, turning angrily
upon the Theban. "Are you trying to prevent honest men from making a
living?"
"Let honest men speak for themselves," Chares retorted.
The laugh that followed filled the Egyptian with rage. He was cunning
enough to wait until Chares had made several more purchases, and at
prices far above the market value of the captives. Mena guessed that
the Theban intended to outbid all who opposed him. He resolved to be
revenged by making him pay dearly for his purchases. It happened that
the next offering was a man whose name was not on Chares' list. Out of
mere good nature he bid two hundred and fifty drachmæ for him.
"Five minæ!" the Egyptian shouted, doubling the bid with the intention
of forcing Chares to go higher.
But Chares was silent, and no other bidder appeared. Mena, who did not
have the money that he had offered, shifted uneasily, looking at Chares.
"I see you have some sense," he cried at last. "You are afraid to bid
against me!"
Chares made no reply.
"He is yours," the auctioneer said, addressing Mena. "Step this way
with your money!"
"Wait!" screamed the Egyptian. "I withdraw the bid! The man is lame!"
"Do you mean to accuse me of trying to cheat you?" roared the
Macedonian captain.
"Perhaps you didn't notice it," the Egyptian faltered.
"Away with him!" cried the soldier.
While the prisoner was being awarded to Chares, two men led Mena out of
the circle, amid the jeers of the spectators. At a safe distance,
under pretence of seeing whether he really had the money he had
offered, they took from him all that he possessed and divided it
between themselves before they let him go.
"I'll make him sorry for this!" Mena said, shaking his fist at Chares.
"I know what I know; but why do they call her Maia?"
Burning with rage, the Egyptian slunk away in search of his master,
Phradates, whom he found wandering idly among the scattered groups of
captives.
"Oh, Phradates, thou hast been insulted!" Mena cried, breathlessly.
"How so, dog?" Phradates demanded, his face darkening as he spoke.
The Ph[oe]nician's figure was tall and well knit, although the
profusion of jewels and golden chains that he wore, and his garments of
rich silk, woven with gold thread, gave him an effeminate look. His
face might have been handsome had it not been marred by an expression
of haughty insolence which betrayed the weakness upon which Mena
intended to play.
He had been sent into Greece by Azemilcus and the Tyrian Council in the
guise of a rich young man on his travels, but with the real object of
discovering the plans and strength of Alexander. Tyre was nominally
tributary to the Great King, but the only sign of her dependence was
the payment of a small annual tribute. In all matters of moment she
managed her own affairs. It was important, therefore, for her rulers
to have exact knowledge of what was going forward in Greece, so that
they might shape their course as seemed best for their own advantage.
Mena noted the flush on his master's cheek and foresaw the success of
his scheme of revenge.
"It occurred to my poor mind," he explained volubly, "that your
Highness would be pleased with a slave from this city of rats, which,
nevertheless, contains some charming maidens. I learned that they had
assembled all the prisoners of gentle birth in one place together. I
went there and examined them for you. Among them I found a girl of
rare beauty and when I asked concerning her, they told me she was Maia,
daughter of Thales, one of the chief men in the city. Such a form as
she has!--with hair like copper and a glance that would--"
"Will you never finish?" Phradates asked angrily.
"I chose her for your Highness and gave command that she be reserved
until I could find you to claim her," Mena continued. "But it seems a
Theban, whom they call Chares, had resolved to buy her for himself. I
told him that I had spoken for the girl in your name. 'Let the Tyrian
hound go back to his dye-vats,' he said. 'The girl is mine and he
shall not have her while I have an obol left!' He said much more
against the people of Tyre and yourself in particular that I will not
offend your Highness by repeating. I am sorry that I lost the girl,
for there is no other like her among the captives."
"Where is she?" Phradates demanded abruptly.
"If your Highness will deign to follow, I will conduct you to her,"
Mena replied with alacrity.
"Lead on!" Phradates commanded. "And then fetch quickly the gold we
borrowed from the old Athenian."
Chares had purchased all the prisoners on his list excepting the girl
called Maia, and the soldiers were leading her forward when Mena and
Phradates arrived. The young woman's face and head were muffled in a
silken scarf, and her figure was concealed beneath a cloak.
"Give place!" cried Mena, bustling officiously into the crowd. "Make
way for the noble Phradates!"
One of the soldiers raised the scarf long enough for the Ph[oe]nician
to see the young woman's face. Her beauty evidently made a deep
impression upon him, for his expression changed and he seemed hardly
able to take his eyes from her.
"Where is this Chares?" he inquired, at last, staring about him.
Mena indicated the Theban with a nod, and then, noticing that all eyes
were turned upon his master, he bawled out: "Make room for Phradates of
the royal blood of Tyre!"
"Do you want to sell him?" asked the auctioneer.
The Ph[oe]nician's face became purple and he turned angrily upon Mena,
but the alert Egyptian had slipped away to fetch the gold.
"Three talents for the girl!" Phradates cried.
"Five talents!" Chares answered.
The spectators, who had long ago ceased to think of bidding against the
Theban, drew a deep breath and looked from one contestant to the other.
Maia alone seemed indifferent. A tress of her hair had fallen upon her
shoulder. She twisted it back into place. Chares had not seen her
face when the soldier lifted her veil and his attention was now centred
upon his opponent.
"Seven talents!" Phradates shouted, fixing his eyes defiantly upon
Chares.
"Eight!" the Theban answered, without hesitation.
This was more than all the other captives in the group had brought.
The crowd began to hum with excitement. Phradates looked over his
shoulder and saw Mena leading four slaves who carried bags of gold.
"Ten talents!" he cried.
"All bids must be paid in cash," the auctioneer said warningly.
Every face was turned toward Chares, who had called his steward and was
consulting with him. "How much have we left?" the Theban asked. The
man made a rapid calculation on his tablets.
"You have ten talents and thirty minæ," he replied. "That is the end."
"I bid ten talents and thirty minæ," Chares said promptly, addressing
the auctioneer.
It was evident to all that he could go no further. Would Phradates be
able to outbid him? The Ph[oe]nician hesitated and turned to Mena.
"He has won," the slave whispered. "You have only ten talents. If you
had beaten him, we should have starved to death."
"Then we will starve!" Phradates replied. "I demand that the gold be
weighed!"
"You have that right," the auctioneer admitted. "Bring out the scales."
The scales were brought and the gold was poured into the broad pans
which hung suspended from their framework of wood. The glittering
heaps increased until each pan overflowed with the precious coins and
ingots. When all was in readiness for the test, they held a fortune
such as few men in all Greece possessed. The spectators devoured it
with their eyes, 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 Ph[oe]nician'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 Ph[oe]nician 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 from
the young woman's lips.
"Maia is safe enough," she returned, raising her head proudly.
"But where is she?" he persisted.
She hesitated and her eyes fell. A warm flush mounted to her cheeks.
"I bought her place," she murmured, "and you have bought me."
The Theban stared a moment in bewilderment, but as her meaning dawned
upon him he threw back his head and laughed, a little recklessly.
Thais bit her lip and then suddenly burst into tears.