GREEK AND BARBARIAN
Alexander was riding upon Bucephalus, with Parmenio at his side.
Behind them rode the light-hearted pages and the grave generals,
followed by the Companions and the infantry, winding like an enormous
snake along the road that led southward to the Granicus.
The young king seemed preoccupied. He glanced restlessly to the right
and left where scouting parties were beating the country to guard
against surprise and in the hope of finding some trace of the enemy.
"The Persians cannot be far away now," he said to Parmenio. "Do you
think they will wait for us?"
"If they were wise, they would fall back and draw us away from our
supplies," the old general replied.
"They must fight," Alexander exclaimed.
"I have no doubt they will," Parmenio answered, with the shadow of a
smile upon his lips.
Alexander glanced sharply at him and was silent, riding with bent head
as though debating with himself. There was something in the veteran's
tone that jarred upon him.
"I wish Leonidas, Chares, and Clearchus were here," he said at last.
"Perhaps they have taken service under Memnon," Parmenio suggested
dryly.
"Is there none that you trust?" Alexander said sharply. "They are not
deserters; but they may have been killed."
"That is possible," the old man replied.
"I care not so much for the Persians," Alexander continued, "but I
would like to know how many men Memnon has and what spirit they are in."
A small party of the scouting horsemen appeared before them in the road.
"It is Amyntas himself," Alexander said, catching sight of them. "What
has the Lyncestian found?"
"Either stragglers or prisoners," Parmenio replied, shading his eyes
with his palms. "They seem to be negroes."
"We will put them to the torture," Alexander said, with satisfaction.
"They may be able to tell something of what we wish to know."
He urged Bucephalus forward to meet the skirmishers, who halted to
await his arrival.
"What have you here, Amyntas?" he asked.
"Three men who seemed to be wandering about the Country," Amyntas
replied. "They are Greeks, but they refuse to give any account of
themselves excepting to Alexander."
One of the three prisoners, short and strong of build, stood forward
and saluted. Alexander looked hard at him and then at the other two.
His face cleared and he laughed aloud.
"Order a halt," he said. "Let the men rest and eat. Leave the
prisoners to me."
He gave his horse to a groom and led the way to a wide-spreading oak
tree a short distance from the road.
"I thought you had been either killed or captured," he said to the
prisoners. "Leonidas, what have you learned?"
"Everything," the Spartan replied.
"How many soldiers has Memnon?" the young king asked.
"Twenty thousand," was the reply.
"Will they fight?" Alexander inquired.
"No, because the Persians will not let them," Leonidas said. "Memnon
advised a retreat, but the satraps laughed in his face and gave him
permission to watch them win the battle."
"What think you of that, Parmenio?" Alexander exclaimed. "He gave them
the same advice you would have given had you been there. They have
refused it. The day is ours!"
With hasty questions he brought out the whole story of the expedition.
The plan of battle formed itself in his mind as he listened, walking
back and forth before them. His eyes flashed and his cheeks glowed red.
"You have done well," he said to the three friends, when they had
finished. "Your horses are waiting for you. Refresh yourselves and
put on your armor, for you will need it before the sun goes down."
"I hope nobody has stolen my breastplate," Chares muttered.
Alexander continued to pace backward and forward with his head inclined
a little to the left, as was his wont when in thought. Parmenio
watched him closely, but did not venture to speak. Amyntas, who had
ridden forward after surrendering his prisoners, now returned at a
gallop.
"The barbarians await us on the opposite side of the river," he said.
"Your prisoners have already told me," Alexander replied. "Is the
stream fordable?"
"Not directly in front of their line," the cavalryman replied. "There
is shallow water above and below them, but the stream is swift."
"Call the council," Alexander said quietly, turning to Parmenio.
Heralds bore the order down the road beside which the army lay at rest.
The commanders left their stations and came forward, singly and in
groups, gathering about their leader. In few words he set the
situation before them.
"Shall we attack them now or to-morrow?" he asked.
"Let us fight now!" the captains shouted.
But Parmenio frowned and shook his head. "My advice is to wait," he
said boldly. "Already it is late and we must cross the river to reach
the enemy. They have chosen their own ground. The men are weary with
their march."
"No, no!" the younger men shouted.
"As for the river," Alexander replied, "the Hellespont would blush for
shame if we stood waiting on the banks of such a stream as this after
having crossed the other. It is true that we have little time, and
that is the more reason that we should make the most of it. We will
fight now."
His decision was received with a burst of cheers. He waited with a
smile until the clamor of approval had ceased.
"Comrades and Macedonians!" he continued, "we are about to face the
Mede. If we win here, we win all. I say to you that we shall win. I
ask you only to be worthy of yourselves. Fight this day as the heroes
fought before the walls of Ilium. Their shades are with us. Your
names shall be linked forever with theirs. Here we shall reap the
first harvest of our hope."
"Lead us, Alexander! We shall win!" the captains shouted.
They ran back to spread the news among the soldiers, who received it
with such enthusiasm that even the anxious face of Parmenio brightened.
In another half hour the army was again in motion with Alexander in the
van, wearing the helmet with the white plumes that swept his shoulders.
When they reached the river, they saw the Persians drawn up on the
opposite bank in a long, deep line. The front of the enemy was gay
with banners flaunting in the sun and resplendent with the
multi-colored finery of the Persian lords. The Greeks could hear the
braying of their trumpets and the shouts of their commanders as the
dense masses of their cavalry wheeled into position to meet the attack.
At sight of Alexander a high-pitched, long-drawn cry ran from one end
of their line to the other, rising and falling in derision.
There was no answer from the Greeks. The young king drew aside to a
point of vantage and threw a rapid glance at the barbarian host. He
saw that the river before them broadened into a pool, over whose quiet
surface the swallows were skimming. Immediately in front of him the
water foamed and gurgled over a shallow, and a similar break ended the
pool below. The opposite bank rose steeply from the water's edge to
the wide declivity upon which the Persians had taken their stand.
Behind them Memnon's mercenaries had been posted as a reserve and to be
spectators of the punishment which the barbarians were to inflict upon
their countrymen.
"Leonidas was right," Alexander exclaimed, pointing to the mercenaries.
"See, we shall not have to meet the spears of the Greeks. Form the
line, Parmenio."
Squadron and company emerged from the road and wheeled into their
positions in silence under the direction of their captains. Clearchus,
Chares, and Leonidas were riding with Ptolemy's troop when a page
sought them and they saw Alexander beckoning.
"Do not forget that you are to fight with Alexander to-day," he said,
as they rode up.
Leonidas flushed with pride and Chares threw a satisfied glance at the
gorgeous breastplate which he had recovered safely. They took their
places in the cluster of young Macedonians behind the king.
Amyntas, with his light horsemen, was posted on the extreme right,
beyond the left of the Persian line. Ptolemy, with the heavy cavalry,
stood next, and Alexander, with seven squadrons of the Companions, the
best and bravest of his army, supported him on the left. Then came the
terrible phalanx, rank on rank, its sarissas standing up to four times
the height of a man, like a giant field of corn. Farther down the
river, in the left wing, where Parmenio commanded, was the dashing
Thessalian horse, with the riders of Thrace and the Greek allies,
supported by other squadrons of foot-soldiers.
Quickly and calmly, as though forming for a parade, the line extended
itself and stood still. Behind its centre the catapults and ballistæ
were posted, with their strings tightened and their great arms drawn
back, ready to hurl their bolts or to discharge their missiles.
A sudden hush fell on both sides of the river. The jeers of the
Persians died away and their banners stirred lazily in the light air.
The Macedonians stood facing them like an army of statues. Alexander
touched his horse with the spur and rode slowly down the line alone to
see that all was in readiness. As he passed he spoke to the captains,
calling them by name.
"Nicanor," he said, "let your men prove themselves men once more
to-day! Perdiccas, fight for the honor of Hellas! C[oe]nus, there are
no cowards among your followers; fight now as you never fought before!
Remember Macedon!"
So the young king reached the left of the array, where he gave his
final instructions to Parmenio, and galloped back to his place on the
right with his double white plume streaming behind him.
Gazing across the narrow stream, the veterans of Macedon saw the pride
of Persia awaiting their onset. The great struggle for which they had
been making ready through years of toil was about to be brought to an
issue. There rose before them a vision of the farms and villages among
the rugged Macedonian hills where their wives and children awaited
them. They set their teeth upon the thought that defeat would leave
the road to their homes unguarded. They pictured the shame of
returning as hunted fugitives, with the barbarians at their heels--how
sullen Sparta would exult and fickle Athens blaze up in revolt. It
would be better to die there on the banks of the foreign river than to
incur such disgrace.
To all minds came the thought that the fate of the world was hanging in
the balance, and all eyes turned to Alexander. The young king, cool
and confident, had regained his position at the head of the Agema. He
raised his hand and away on the right the army heard the clear notes of
a trumpet sounding the charge.
Amyntas, with his gallant lancers, galloped down the slope and dashed
into the river, which foamed about the knees of the plunging horses.
Again the trumpet-call quavered in the air, and Ptolemy's squadrons
followed Amyntas with a clanking of armor and a jangling of scabbards.
On the opposite shore the Persians raised their fierce, defiant shout
and rushed eagerly forward to meet the charge. A flight of arrows rose
from the archers posted upon the hillside in their rear and converged
in a glittering shower upon the ford.
Then along the dreaded phalanx of the Greeks ran a swelling murmur.
The forest of sarissas began to move toward the river. Louder rose the
chant until it drowned the clash of arms and the shouts of the
barbarian host. It was the solemn pæan from twelve thousand bearded
throats, calling upon the Gods of Hellas for their aid. The hearts of
the Greeks in the mercenary camp on the heights across the river
tightened as the deep-toned chorus rolled up to them and for a time
they avoided looking into each other's eyes.
Enormous darts, ponderous balls of lead, and jagged stones were hurled
against the Persian line from the death-dealing engines in the rear of
the Greek position. Amyntas was struggling hand to hand in the foaming
ford. The battle was joined.