THE WORLD AT STAKE
With the sea on their left and the mountain cliffs on their right,
Clearchus and Nathan rode on either side of Chares in the front rank of
the squadron of Companion cavalry commanded by Leonidas. The crisp
November air and the excitement of the coming battle made their blood
tingle and raised their spirits to a pitch of reckless gayety. The
Spartan rode in advance, without turning his head or moving a muscle
under the fire of jokes that Chares directed at him.
Presently the cliffs ended and the mountain barrier curved away inland,
leaving a plain of greensward and shingle, flooded with sunlight.
"There they are!" Clearchus cried eagerly.
Straight before them, perhaps three miles away, they saw a confused
mass of gleaming banners and the glint of countless spears. The
shallow Pinarus, flowing down from the mountains, rippled across the
level, and on its further bank, where the ground was high, the Great
King had taken his stand. For a mile and a half, from the hills to the
sea, the plain was blocked by a living rampart, gay with the pomp of
Oriental splendor.
As the squadrons of Macedonian cavalry emerged from the pass, they
wheeled to the right and formed their line close to the lower slopes of
the mountain.
"Here come the men of Thessaly," Chares cried.
Their plumes fluttering in the breeze, the Thessalian horse poured out
of the pass and ranged themselves behind the Companions.
Then the phalanx appeared, marching rank after rank, with the precision
of a machine. The lancers under Protomachus and Aristo's Pæonians, who
had been thrown forward in advance of the cavalry, raised a shout as
the scarred veterans, each holding his long sarissa erect and bearing
his heavy shield across his shoulder, followed the proud Agema.
While the phalanx was forming on the left of the cavalry there was a
movement among the Persians.
"They are coming!" Chares shouted.
Clearchus and Nathan saw a large body of horse and foot advance across
the river. Although in numbers they exceeded the entire Macedonian
army, their departure from the main body of the Persians seemed to make
no diminution in its size. They halted as soon as they had crossed the
stream and from the host beyond came the bray of trumpets and the
hoarse murmur of many voices.
"They are taking their positions," Nathan said. "They will not attack."
His conjecture proved correct, for in half an hour the troops that had
advanced fell back again across the river through openings that had
been left for them in the wings of the main force, and the glittering
front of the Persian army was revealed, drawn up in battle array.
The Macedonians had continued to advance slowly across the plain,
forming as they went, so that only half a mile now separated them from
the Persians. Nathan's eyes sought the centre of the enemy's line.
"There he is!" he exclaimed, pointing with his finger.
Clearchus followed the direction he indicated and saw a blotch of
variegated color, above which fluttered many standards.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Darius," Nathan replied. "You can see his Medean robe of
purple--there, just beneath that golden banner."
"What troop is that about him?" inquired Chares.
"They are the princes and the nobles of the court," the Israelite
answered. "Oxathres, the Great King's brother commands them."
"I wonder whether Phradates is there!" Clearchus said.
"I hope so!" Chares exclaimed, in a voice that came from his heart.
"There, in front of Darius, are his Greek mercenaries," Nathan
continued. "Leonidas told the truth when he said there were thirty
thousand of them. Those heavy-armed troops on each side of the centre
are the Cardaces. And, look, there is the cavalry, there on the beach.
That is the flower of the Persian army. Nabazarnes leads it."
"We met some of those blossoms at the Granicus," Chares remarked. "It
did not take them long to wither; but there is a whole garden of them
yonder, and our line seems rather slender compared with theirs."
The Persian horse was massed on the smooth, hard beach in an enormous
wedge which looked as though it might be able, by weight alone, to
scatter the squadrons of Greek cavalry under Parmenio which were
opposing it on the left wing of the Macedonian army. Evidently this
discrepancy had struck the attention of Alexander, for, while Chares
spoke, the Thessalians quietly left their places in the line and
trotted around behind the phalanx to reënforce the allies.
"There goes the sickle that will reap the roses of Darius," Chares
said, gazing after them longingly. "Ph[oe]bus! I wish I were with
them!"
"You will find plenty to do here," Clearchus said. "There are a few
men over there on the hill who will have to be cared for."
He pointed to the slope on the right, where some twenty thousand of the
Cardaces were drawn up, far in advance of the Persian line, near the
foot of the mountain.
"They intend to try our flank when we advance," the Theban observed.
"I didn't know the Persians had so much sense."
"They are going to get a little exercise first," Clearchus said as the
flare of trumpets sounded down the line.
Immediately a body of light-armed foot-soldiers and cavalry detached
itself from the right wing and advanced up the hill toward the
Cardaces. The eyes of both armies were upon them and a cheer ran along
the Macedonian ranks, from the hillside to the sea.
The Cardaces wavered slightly. They had evidently not expected so
prompt an attack. The leaders of the Macedonian force could be seen
riding or running in advance of the various divisions, and the men
followed as steadily as though the charge were merely an exercise
drill. They paused to send a flight of arrows and stones among the
Cardaces, who, being armed only with lances and swords, had no means of
replying. To charge down the hill meant that they would be annihilated
by the Macedonian army. To remain where they were was to be slain
piecemeal by the darts and arrows. They began to retire slowly upward
out of the zone of fire.
Their retreat was greeted from the Macedonian lines by a roar that
sounded like the booming of the surf upon the rocks. The peltasts and
archers continued to press them until they had been forced into a
position where they were no longer a menace to the rear of the army.
The light-armed troops were then recalled, leaving two squadrons of
Companions, containing about three hundred men, to hold the twenty
thousand in check if they should attempt a charge. They performed the
task imposed upon them. Nothing more was heard of the isolated
Cardaces that day.
As the detachment returned down the hill and resumed its place in the
ranks, the commotion in the long, thin line that stretched away to the
sea gradually ceased. The soldiers stood motionless behind their
captains.
Alexander, riding Bucephalus, gave his final commands to Parmenio on
the beach where the Thessalians waited with the allied cavalry to meet
the attack of the Persian horse. Then he turned and came slowly up
along the line, drawing rein here and there to speak a word of
confidence and encouragement. His double white plume floated over his
shoulders, and the sunlight flashed upon his coat of mail.
When he reached the right wing he addressed the Companions with his
familiar smile.
"Do not forget," he said, "that a part of your accustomed duty is to
set an example to the rest. I shall lead the Agema. Keep near me, for
I may need you. Whether we win or lose, let it be with glory."
He turned his face toward the Persians and scanned with care the dense
masses of troops who stood waiting beyond the Pinarus, in lines so deep
that he could not see their rear. His eyes lingered upon the centre,
where Darius, his rival for the mastery of the world, was standing. On
the left of the Great King, the course of the stream bent backward, and
the formation of the Persian army followed its course. The left of the
Greek mercenaries, upon whom Darius relied to win the battle, rested in
this elbow of the river.
"There is the vital spot," Alexander said. "If we can gain a foothold
on that bank, have no fear of what may happen elsewhere. It will be
easier than it was at the Granicus."
"The cavalry is coming," said Clitus, pointing toward the beach.
Alexander turned and saw the gayly caparisoned squadrons of the Persian
right dashing into the river. The foam splashed about the knees of the
horses and a forest of lances waved and tossed in the air.
"There is work for Parmenio," the young king remarked as the head of
the column gained the shore.
He glanced once more along the Persian front, but the movement on the
beach did not extend to the main force. It was clear that Darius
intended to compel him to begin the infantry battle.
Alexander cantered down to the right of the phalanx, where he
dismounted and placed himself at the head of the Agema. On the beach
the Thessalians met the shock of the tremendous body of cavalry that
had been launched against them. The impact bore them back, but even
that rushing avalanche of horses and men could not break them. It
dashed against their wall of steel, recoiled, and rolled on again, in
successive waves, continually strengthened from the rear as fresh
squadrons crossed the stream.
The Macedonian line quivered with eagerness. A page darted from
Alexander's side along the front of the phalanx and spoke a word to
Ptolemy, son of Lagus. Another sped to the Companions.
"Advance," he cried, "and charge when the king leads! This is the
order!"
"Here we go!" cried Chares, clapping Nathan on the back with a blow
that nearly hurled him from his horse. "Stick to Leonidas! He will
find the best of the fighting for us, or we will drown him in the
river!"
"The phalanx is moving!" Clearchus cried with shining eyes.
A dull throbbing beat through the air and the heavy centre started
slowly forward, each man touching the arm of his neighbor and keeping
step in parade order. The cadence of voices began to mingle with the
drum beat and the wild music of the trumpets.
As they advanced, Clearchus gazed eagerly at the Persian line, every
nerve stretched to the point of physical pain. He saw in the centre
the ranks of the Greek mercenaries, ten times as deep as those of the
phalanx, standing grim and motionless, in strange contrast with the
restless flutter of the heterogeneous masses that surrounded them on
three sides. He blushed to think that, when Persia stood at bay,
Greeks could be found to range themselves with her against their own
country. The thought passed through his mind that Alexander was right
after all, and that Demosthenes and those who aided him to fan the
flame of hostility to Macedon at home were really acting the part of
traitors, not only to Athens, but to all Greece.
He turned his eyes to Alexander, whose plumes shone in the front rank
of the Agema. This had now almost reached the Pinarus. Suddenly from
the phalanx rose the deep-toned pæan, summoning the Gods of Hellas to
protect their own. The mighty chant drowned the throbbing of the drums
and the uproar of the battle on the beach. As it rose and swelled, it
filled the plain and rolled back in echoes from the mountain sides.
There was something in it stern and inflexible, that thrilled
Clearchus' heart and lifted him to the plane of self-forgetfulness.
The Agema reached the river. The pæan gave way to a wild shout as the
slow advance of the phalanx changed to a rush, and the Macedonian line
dashed into the rain of javelins, darts, and arrows that was poured
upon it from the Persian side of the stream.