PHRADATES MAKES A WAGER
Phradates stood on the broad stone wharf in the Sidonian Harbor of
Tyre, amid a group of young men whose costly garments and jewelled
fingers showed them to belong to the rich families of the richest city
in the world. Upon the edge of the wharf were gathered a score of
older men, clad in sombre robes, over which spread their silvery
beards. They wore close-fitting caps and heavy golden chains. Each
carried a short rod of ebony and ivory as a token of authority. They
were the elders, members of the council of King Azemilcus, who was
absent with the fleet of Autophradates, the Persian admiral.
The basin of the harbor formed a deep bay, shut in on the seaward side
by lofty walls, built of huge blocks of squared stone laid in gypsum.
On the right, facing north, was a narrow opening in the barrier,
forming a passage flanked by long breakwaters. The circumference of
the harbor was ringed by a succession of stone wharves, where hundreds
of merchant vessels were moored, their sails furled against their
masts. They were discharging their cargoes or taking on lading for new
voyages. Lines of men, half naked, ran backward and forward between
the ships and the great warehouses, carrying bales upon their heads.
The sailors, chanting monotonous songs, were emptying the holds of the
ships or storing away the fresh cargoes.
"There's an old tub that looks as though she had seen service," cried
one of the young men. "Let us see where she has been."
They strolled across to a vessel whose weather-beaten sides and patched
sails told of rough usage.
"Whence came you?" demanded the youth, addressing the brown-faced
master, who stood at the gangway, superintending the discharge of his
cargo.
"From the Cassiterides," the man replied.
"Where are they?" the youth asked, gazing at the bright ingots of tin
that the sailors were dragging to the deck.
"They are in the western seas," the master answered, "so far that
Carthage seems but a stone's throw away. Three months we were beaten
northward by storms, and the waves of the great ocean ran higher than
the walls of the city. At last we came to the land of long days, where
the men have yellow hair and blue eyes and the women are more beautiful
than light. By the favor of Baal, we were enabled to obtain a store of
amber that is created there by the sun, in exchange for beads of glass.
This we dedicated to the God, and after we had got our tin on board, he
brought us back under his protection."
The young men listened, open-mouthed. From their boyhood, they had
been accustomed to drink in such tales of mystery and wonder along the
wharves of the city, nursing the bold spirit of adventure that was born
in every Ph[oe]nician. They plied the master with questions. What
monsters of the sea had he seen? What were the customs of the men of
the North? Was it true that they devoured strangers who fell into
their hands? The mariner told them of enormous water snakes and
dragons, but his marvellous tales were interrupted by a cry from the
walls, where lookouts were always posted to scan the sea. The state
trireme had been sighted. She was returning from Sidon, bringing
Prince Hur and the ambassadors whom the council had despatched to
Alexander. The council was now awaiting their return.
At the signal from the walls, work was suspended throughout the city
and the population crowded to the harbor. Merchants with their tablets
clasped in their hands, dyers with their arms stained to the elbow,
metal workers, artisans, laborers, and soldiers of the garrison,
thronged to the water front by thousands to learn the answer of the
Macedonian. A vast murmur of expectation and speculation rose from the
people.
Presently, through the entrance of the harbor, the trireme could be
seen, making for the opening between the sea-walls, over which the
waves were dashing in spurts of white spray. Urged by its three banks
of oars, rising and falling in unison, the vessel ran swiftly into the
harbor.
Headed by Prince Hur, the son of Azemilcus, the ambassadors were
standing grave and silent upon the deck. At sight of their anxious
faces a hush fell upon the crowd. The pilot gave a sharp command, the
oars churned backward in the water, and the long trireme swung into her
mooring. The ambassadors descended to the wharf and spoke in low tones
to the elders of the council.
Was it peace or war? War! The news ran through the crowd and into the
city as ripples spread across the face of a pool when a stone falls.
Turmoil and confusion followed. What had Alexander said? Would the
other Ph[oe]nician cities join with Tyre to repel him?
They had deserted her. Tyre must stand alone. Strato, son of
Gerostratus, king of Adradus, had surrendered. Byblos had capitulated.
Sidon had opened her gates to the Macedonians.
"We offered submission according to our instructions," said the chief
of the ambassadors, to the council. "Alexander accepted it and bade us
tell you it was his purpose to offer sacrifice in the temple of
Melkarth, who, he says, is really Heracles, and his ancestor. We
replied that Tyre could not admit strangers within her walls, but that
Melkarth had an older temple on the mainland, where he might offer
sacrifice. 'Tell your council,' he said, 'that I and my army will
offer sacrifice to Melkarth upon his altar within the walls of New
Tyre. Bid them make ready the temple. It is for them to say what the
victims shall be.' That was all."
"You did well; let us consider," said Mochus, the eldest of the council.
They walked in slow and silent procession to the palace of the king in
the southern quarter of the town and disappeared within its gates.
The city continued to seethe like a huge caldron. Its unwonted stir
attracted the attention of Thais and Artemisia, on the housetop, where
they had gone as usual to take the air after midday. The two young
women stood side by side, close to the parapet of the roof, looking
down into the narrow streets, where men came and went like ants whose
nest has been disturbed. The strong sea-breeze blew out Thais' crimson
robe into gleaming folds, and the sun glistened upon the burnished
copper of her hair. Rich color glowed in her cheeks and in her scarlet
lips. The immortal vitality of the salt breeze and of the crisply
curling waves seemed in her. She laughed aloud.
"I wonder what is the matter?" she said. "These Ph[oe]nicians are
afraid of their own shadows."
Artemisia smiled. Her chiton of fine white wool, edged with purple,
outlining her figure, indicated that it had lost some of its roundness.
Her face was pale; blue veins showed through the transparent skin of
her temples.
"I hope it means something good for us," she said, slipping her arm
around her sister's waist. "When shall we get away from this hateful
city?"
"The time will come, child," Thais said soothingly. "You shall see him
again; I know it."
It was a conversation that had been repeated many times. Artemisia
drew a sigh that caught in her throat in a little sob.
"Oh, Thais, if I could feel his strong arms around me only once," she
said, "I think I could die in thankfulness."
"Do not talk of dying," Thais replied reprovingly. "See, the world is
beautiful!"
They stood in silence for a moment, gazing at the scene, which was
indeed beautiful, as Thais had said. On three sides the sea flashed
and sparkled with white-capped waves before the southwest wind. On the
east a channel, half a mile in width, divided the mainland from the
island upon which the new city was built. Beyond the strait lay the
city of Old Tyre, with its wide circle of walls. There, as in the new
town, thousands of pieces of cloth--linen, woollen, cotton, and
silk--fresh from the vats of the dyers, were hung to dry in the sun.
The juice of the shell-fish had lent them rich hues of blue, violet,
crimson, scarlet, and the peculiar shade of purple known as "royal"
that for ages had made the city famous. Hundreds of fishing and
trading vessels were drawn up along the wharves or upon the beach.
Behind the old city, three miles from the beach, rose Mount Lebanon,
clothed to its snow-clad summits with the foliage of pine, cedar, oak,
and sumach. Its mighty barrier stretched north and south into the
misty distance, leaving always between its base and the shore a narrow
strip of level land that was given up to tillage.
From the elevation where they stood, the young women looked upon other
roofs, filling the space inside the walls, which rose from the sea for
one hundred and fifty feet, with towers at every curve and angle. They
could see the Sidonian Harbor on their right and the Egyptian Harbor
opposite to it on their left, both crowded with masts and connected by
a canal spanned by movable bridges.
Before them rose the towers and cupolas of the Temple of Melkarth, and
near it the wide Eurychorus, or market-place. Farther south was the
huge dome of the Temple of Baal, and there, too, was the royal palace,
with its many terraces crowned by a lofty citadel. Agenor's Temple was
on the north, overlooking the Sidonian Harbor. Near the western wall
was an oasis of verdure which marked the gardens attached to the
voluptuous Temple of Astarte, where, through the foliage of palm and
rhododendron, shone the marble columns of her habitation.
Phradates had caused a striped awning to be erected upon the roof.
Beneath this was spread a gay Babylonian carpet, with couches and
silken cushions. Shrubs and flowering plants stood in great vases of
stone, screening the enclosure from the eyes of the curious. All the
other housetops of the quarter were occupied in a similar manner, thus
enabling the population to escape the heat of the lower levels, from
which the breeze was excluded by the height of the walls. The space
inside the city was so crowded that the houses rose many stories, and,
excepting those belonging to wealthy persons, each sheltered scores of
families.
"It is a proud city," Thais said musingly.
"Yes," Artemisia replied. "Proud, and cruel, and heartless!"
She shivered as she spoke. Thais beckoned to one of the women, who
stood at a respectful distance, talking in low tones with a slender,
dark-skinned man, whose cunning eyes gleamed like those of a rat. He
was Mena the Egyptian.
"Fetch a wrap," Thais said to the slave girl who answered her summons.
The girl brought a shawl of cashmere and laid it around Artemisia's
shoulders.
"Something tells me that our captivity will soon be over," Thais said.
"Things cannot last much longer as they are."
There was a meaning in her words that Artemisia did not grasp. Since
the flight from Halicarnassus, they had been confined in the house of
Phradates, whose passion for Thais had increased until it burned like
fever in his veins. The end must have come long ago had it not been
for the frequent absences that had been forced upon the young man by
the needs of the city and the commands of the Great King. As matters
stood, even Thais' resources had been taxed to hold him in check.
Hitherto she had fed him with hopes, playing upon his weaknesses and
keeping him in a state of subjection from which she knew surrender
would set him free. She made a gesture of impatience and began walking
up and down between rows of young orange trees.
"I don't know what has come over me," she said. "I am as restless as
one of the sea-gulls yonder."
She listened a moment to the cries and commotion in the streets.
"Mena!" she cried. "Come here!"
The Egyptian advanced slowly, with an indefinable insolence in his
bearing.
"Find out what is causing all this excitement in the city and bring me
word," Thais said.
"Why should my lady be interested?" Mena replied coolly, with a smile
that showed his white teeth.
Thais wheeled as though she had been stung. She looked at the Egyptian
with head erect, and there was something in her eyes that caused his to
fall before them.
"Mena," she said softly, "do not think that, because you are set to
watch me, you are my master. Go, or I swear by Astoreth that you shall
be flayed alive from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet."
Mena gasped, and moistened his dry lips with his tongue.
"Pardon," he stammered. "I did not mean--"
"I know well what you meant," Thais returned. "Go!"
He turned and went. Thais grasped a branch of the shrubbery and tore
it away, crumpling the leaves in her hands and scattering them in a
bruised shower at her feet.
"How long must I put up with the insolence of this slave and his
master?" she exclaimed. The opalescent animal light gleamed in her
eyes as she turned them northward, and she paced backward and forward
with impatient strides like a captive lioness. "I hate them!" she
cried. "How many times have I been tempted to end it!"
She thrust her hand into her bosom and drew out her tiny dagger, whose
hilt was studded with rubies that sparkled like drops of blood.
"Hush, Thais, some one is coming!" Artemisia said.
Thais quickly hid the dagger and turned to greet Phradates. He came
forward with a smile, and the smile with which she met him had no trace
in it of the anger that had so shaken her but a moment before.
"Great news!" the young man cried. "Alexander is coming!"
Artemisia caught her breath, and for an instant her head swam.
"Tell us," Thais said. "We are dying to hear all about it. You know
we have had no news since the battle of Issus, where the Great King, as
you call him, was beaten by one who seems to be greater."
There was a spice of malice in her voice that evidently annoyed the
Ph[oe]nician.
"Yes, through the treachery of the Greeks," he replied, frowning.
"Darius will depend upon his own people next time, and you will see
then what will happen."
"But what has Alexander been doing since the battle?" Thais asked.
"He might have advanced upon Babylon with nobody to oppose him,"
Phradates said. "Of course, he would not have been able to capture the
city, but at least he will never have a better chance to try it. He
was afraid to make the attempt. He has been marching down the coast
instead, and there has been no more fighting, because all the northern
cities have surrendered to him."
"Well?" Thais said, listening with parted lips.
"In the absence of King Azemilcus," the Ph[oe]nician continued, "the
council deemed it best to offer terms for the present. They sent an
embassy, accompanied by the prince, to tell Alexander that he had
nothing to fear from Tyre so long as he did not interfere with us."
"What was his reply?" Thais demanded quickly.
"What do you suppose?" Phradates said. "He had the impudence to
announce that Melkarth was the same as your Heracles, and that as
Heracles was of his family, he proposed to offer sacrifice in the
temple here. The embassy told him flatly that Tyre had never admitted
the Persians, and that we should not admit him. Everybody knows that
if we should let him in here, he would do what he did in Ephesus when
he took possession of the city under pretence of offering sacrifice to
Artemis."
"But where is Darius?" Thais asked.
"He is in Babylon," said Phradates. "He sent a letter to Alexander
after the battle of Issus, asking freedom for his wife and family. He
wrote as one king to another, proposing peace and alliance; but your
Alexander, to his sorrow, refused the terms. He pretends that he has
already conquered all Asia, and he had the boldness to tell the Great
King that he would liberate Statira and her children if Darius would
come as a suppliant to ask it."
"The Gods fight with him," Thais said, after a pause. "It would be
better for Tyre to open her gates."
The young Ph[oe]nician laughed scornfully.
"The walls of Tyre will crumble and fall into the sea before he offers
his sacrifice," he exclaimed. "I will wager anything I possess against
your looking-glass that he will weary of his task before a stone has
been loosened."
"You do not know Alexander," Thais replied.
"Thais," the young man said earnestly, "I will wager what is more
precious to me than gold. Thou knowest that I love thee."
"You have told me so," she replied demurely.
"You have been for months in my power," he went on, "and I have not
sought to force your inclination. Let us now abide by the result of
the siege that Alexander is threatening. On the day that he gives over
his attempt to enter Tyre, thou shalt be mine. Until that day comes I
shall ask nothing of thee. Is it a bargain?"
"You will not keep your promise," Thais said doubtfully. Her
reluctance made the young man more eager.
"Mena!" he called, "bring wine and two doves at once."
When the Egyptian returned, Phradates said to Thais, "See, I am ready
to bind myself by oath if thou wilt do likewise."
"I am ready," Thais replied.
The sacrifice was made and the mutual bond was completed. As the blood
of the doves trickled upon the stones, Phradates called Astarte to
witness his covenant. Thais drew a breath of relief, for she knew that
no Ph[oe]nician, even the most depraved, would dare to disregard such
an oath.
The sun went down in crimson splendor, and lamps began to twinkle in
the city. Still the council prolonged its deliberations, and still the
anxious merchants waited outside the doors of the palace to learn its
decision.