THE JEST OF KING AZEMILCUS
Tyre was delirious with joy over the success of the attack on the
towers, for the city was convinced that now, at last, the Macedonians
would depart. Feasts were given in the great houses, processions wound
through the streets, and sacrifices of thanksgiving were offered in all
the temples. In order to strike terror into the hearts of the enemy,
twenty Macedonian prisoners were put to death upon the walls with
lingering tortures, and their mangled bodies were cast into the sea.
Hourly the Tyrians expected to see the besieging army evacuate Old Tyre
and march away.
Their rage knew no bounds when a boat bearing two heralds put out from
the shore and entered the Sidonian Harbor. The young men whom it
contained, Galas and Cleanor, pages of Alexander and members of
distinguished Macedonian families, were greeted with jeers by the
people. They were escorted by a strong guard to the royal palace,
where King Azemilcus and the council awaited them.
They bore themselves calmly and proudly under the insults of the mob
and the hostile scrutiny of the council. They met without fear the
gaze of the Tyrian king, who sat upon his throne in the chamber of
state. The light fell upon the old man's cunning and wrinkled face and
touched the heads of the councillors, some silvery white and others
showing hardly a trace of gray. Their eyes, in which cruelty lurked
like a coiled snake, were fixed upon the heralds. The king opened his
thin lips.
"Speak!" he said softly.
"Alexander, lord of Asia, sends his greeting to King Azemilcus and the
people of Tyre," Galas began in a clear voice. "He calls upon you to
surrender your city into his hands."
A murmur rose like a growl from the council. King Azemilcus stroked
his chin gently with his jewelled fingers, as if to hide the smile that
played about his mouth.
"If ye do not this," Galas continued, raising his head, "Alexander,
lord of Asia, bids me say that for thy walls, they shall become as the
walls of Thebes, thy city shall be given to plunder, and the sea-gull
shall build his nest in thy harbors. If ye would find mercy for your
wives and your children, for yourselves and your possessions, ye must
seek it now."
He ceased and stood awaiting their answer. There was dead silence in
the chamber. Azemilcus continued to stroke his chin, glancing at the
youths and then at his advisers with an amused expression in his eyes.
"You may retire," he said at last, "while we consider what reply we
shall send."
The youths were conducted to an anteroom, while the lean king laid
before the council the jest that he had been revolving in his mind. It
was received with approbation, and the reply to Alexander was written
upon parchment in two copies, one for each of the heralds. When all
was in readiness the council rose.
"Come with us," Azemilcus said to the heralds. "We desire to show you
our city before we send you back to Alexander."
Talking pleasantly, he led the way through the citadel to the top of
the wall, pointing out the temples and the various objects of interest
as they went. The boys looked down with wonder from the dizzy height
upon the sea, crawling and lapping far below them. They examined the
engines of war and the piles of ammunition that had been assembled upon
the landward side of the defences. Upon the mainland they could see
their comrades and the gangs of laborers at work upon the mole.
They scarcely noticed that soldiers and citizens were gathering about
them, occupying every point of vantage and pressing forward with nods
and winks as if to a spectacle where a humorous surprise was in store.
"And now," Azemilcus said, smiling pleasantly upon the two heralds,
"you shall hear our answer to the king."
He beckoned to a scribe, who stepped forward and read from a parchment
so that all might hear.
"King Azemilcus and the people of Tyre greet Alexander the Pretender,"
read the scribe. "If he be lord of Asia, Tyre is his. Let him come
and take it."
The two boys looked blankly at the king, and a great shout of laughter
went up from the multitude upon the wall. At another sign from
Azemilcus, two soldiers roughly seized each of the heralds.
"What does this mean?" Galas demanded indignantly.
"Be not angry," Azemilcus replied, still with his soft smile. "We have
wasted so much time in sight-seeing that no doubt Alexander is growing
impatient. We will send you back to him more quickly than you came, so
that his anger may be turned from us."
Amid shouts of delight from the crowd, the heralds were bound hand and
foot with cords. Their knees were drawn up to their chests and lashed
there so as to make their bodies as compact as possible. Finally a
copy of the reply to Alexander was attached to their right hands.
"King of Tyre!" Galas said, when the soldiers had done their work, "you
have broken the faith of nations. For our death, if for nothing else,
shall your city fall and become an evil memory among men. Even your
Gods shall withdraw from you. Farewell!"
Neither of the lads had uttered a cry as the rawhide thongs, drawn too
tightly, cut into their flesh. Galas turned his head as well as he
could and spoke to his younger companion.
"Cleanor, we have been friends," he said. "Now we are about to die.
Be brave for the honor of Macedon! I go with you."
"Do not fear, Galas; I promise," the other replied, and no more words
passed between them.
The soldiers were busily preparing two of the immense ballistæ.
Inserting levers in holes in the ends of the rollers, they turned the
wooden cylinders backward, slowly winding up the rope that was attached
to the casting arm and drawing it back into a horizontal position. The
tough rope strained and the framework of beams creaked as the great
arms were forced into place.
When the wide spoons of wrought iron were ready, the boys were lifted
and placed in them. The spectators, irritated because the victims did
not beg for mercy, howled threats and insults at them. This abuse
brought no response, and fearful lest the courage of the lads might
create a bad impression, Azemilcus ended the sport by ordering the
ballistæ to be discharged.
Throwing their weight suddenly upon the cords that drew the triggers,
the soldiers released the arms of the machines, which sprang upward and
crashed against the cross-beams. The bodies of the heralds, hurled
with frightful velocity into the air, shot outward and upward. Galas
fell upon the end of the mole. Cleanor was dashed to pieces on the
jagged rocks beside him.
A savage outcry rang from the wall across to the Macedonian camp.
Soldiers ran forward and took up the two bodies, bearing them tenderly
to the shore.
"Alexander has his answer!" Azemilcus said, with a chuckle. "Let us go
to dinner."