CHAPTER XLII

A TRAITOR IN PURPLE

Although they had been repulsed, the Macedonians returned to their

camp, confident that Tyre could not much longer stand against them.

Alexander ordered the sacrifice of a black bull to Ph[oe]bus. After a

careful examination of the entrails, Aristander, the soothsayer, sought

the king and spoke to him in private.

"Tyre will fall before the month ends," he said. "Ph[oe]bus has

promised it."

"But the month will end to-morrow," Alexander replied, in astonishment.

"Nevertheless, there can be no doubt," Aristander declared. "To-morrow

thou wilt be in possession of the city."

"Let us see what the army thinks," the king returned.

The news soon spread through the camp. Some of the soldiers rejoiced

as though the promise had already been fulfilled, while others refused

to believe, declaring that the thing was impossible. In order to save

the God from discredit, Alexander issued a proclamation extending the

month three days beyond its accustomed term. With this the army was

satisfied.

Clearchus gave way to an agony of disappointment when he regained

consciousness to find himself on the siege boat with the walls of Tyre

receding from him. Chares and Leonidas were obliged at first to

prevent him by force from throwing himself into the sea. It was only

when the Theban reminded him that it was still possible for them to

enter the city that he became calmer. He was for seeking the passage

through which Joel had emerged as soon as day ended, but the young

Israelite convinced him that such an attempt would surely be

frustrated. The breach in the wall was only a short distance from the

passage and workmen would be engaged there, to say nothing of the guard

that would certainly be established. He consented finally to yield to

his friends and await the third watch of the night. This delay would

permit them to get a few hours of rest.

The sun went down in flaming glory, casting the long shadow of the

Tyrian walls across the Macedonian camp. The thin smoke of a thousand

fires rose lazily in the quiet The soldiers ceased to recount their

escapes in the dreadful breach and stretched themselves on the ground.

Only in Alexander's tent a light continued to glow.

In the middle of the second watch, a small boat crept in from the

purple shadows of the sea and grated on the sand. Two men stepped out

and turned their faces toward the camp. By their features and dress

they were Ph[oe]nicians. Of the first sentinel they met, they demanded

to be led to Alexander, and the reasons they gave caused the captain of

the guard to grant their request.

The captain emerged from the king's tent at the end of half an hour and

hurried away in the darkness. He brought back with him Clearchus,

Chares, Leonidas, Nathan, and Joel. The Theban was rubbing his eyes

and yawning over his interrupted slumbers.

"What is all this about?" he grumbled. "Have we not done enough for

one day? I wish this cursed city was in the bottom of the sea!"

"It is by the king's order," the captain reminded him.

They found Alexander stretched upon his couch and the two Ph[oe]nicians

seated before him. From the expression of the king's eyes as they

sought his, Clearchus knew that something of moment was in his mind,

and his pale face brightened.

One of the strangers was Prince Hur, son of King Azemilcus. The young

man seemed ill at ease, and his fingers played constantly with the

golden chain that he wore as a member of the council. His companion

was older and more composed. His lips were thin and his eyes were keen

and penetrating.

"Comrades," Alexander said, using the term that endeared him to every

soldier in his army, "I have a dangerous service to ask of you. King

Azemilcus has dreamed that his city is about to fall, and we know that

his dream is true. He has sent his son and his chancellor to us to ask

his life, and it has been granted to him. But many things may happen

when the blood is hot with fighting, and it is necessary that

Macedonians be with him when we enter. Therefore I wish you to go to

him and guard him when the time arrives. You may conduct him to the

Temple of Melkarth, which will be set aside as a sanctuary.

"It has been promised that you shall pass unharmed into the city and

remain there in the palace until I come. If this promise is not kept,

Azemilcus and all his family are to be crucified upon the walls as a

warning to those who may wish to break faith with Alexander."

The young king looked keenly at the Ph[oe]nicians. The prince lowered

his eyes and moved uneasily.

"There is one thing more," Alexander continued. "If any of you have

friends in the city whom you desire to protect, it is made a condition

of the safety of Azemilcus that he shall aid you by every means in his

power."

He glanced meaningly at Clearchus as he uttered these words, and the

young man's heart bounded with renewed hope.

They left the tent in silence. The captain of the guard accompanied

them to the boat.

"Azemilcus is betraying his city," Chares whispered.

"We shall save Artemisia and rescue Thais," Clearchus replied, gripping

the arm of his friend.

They entered the boat and rowed silently to the Egyptian Harbor. The

towering height of the wall swallowed the little craft in its shadow

and no sentinel challenged them. They bent their heads as they glided

under the great guard-chains that stretched across the entrance of the

harbor, and threading their way among the shipping, they reached the

landing and disembarked.

Keeping to the left, the chancellor led them toward the palace. More

than once they were forced to step aside to avoid the heaps of ruins

that told of the work done by the ballistæ. As they advanced, the

great bulk of the palace rose before them above the wall, to which it

was joined and of which it formed a part. As they advanced, the

chancellor was careful to keep in the deepest shadow, and his hand

shook as he fitted the key into a small door in the palace wall.

"We are safe!" he said to the prince as the door closed behind them.

"Very well," the young man replied, yawning; "I am going to bed."

He turned abruptly into a lateral passage and disappeared. The

chancellor seemed in doubt for a moment whether to call him back, but

he decided to let him go.

"Follow me," he said to the Macedonians.

They groped their way upward after him along a winding stair that

seemed to be built into the city wall. This slow progress continued

for many minutes without a glimmer of light until they reached what

appeared to be a windowless chamber. There the chancellor left them,

bidding them wait until he had notified the king of their arrival.

He was absent so long that Leonidas began to grow uneasy. He found the

chamber destitute of furniture and without doors save that by which

they had entered and that by which the chancellor had left them. Both

were now secured. This had been accomplished without attracting their

attention and it added to their uneasiness.

"We are like owls in a cage," Nathan said. "We can do nothing but

wait."

"I do not like it," Leonidas replied.

"Nonsense," Chares remarked. "They brought us here for a purpose and

we are of more use to them alive than dead. Do you suppose that

Azemilcus is anxious to be crucified?"

"Perhaps not," the Spartan replied, "but it maybe that he has changed

his mind. If he does not send for us soon, I think we had better try

the door."

Clearchus said nothing, but he paced impatiently back and forth across

the narrow room, pausing at every sound. The night was passing and the

hour for the sacrifice to Moloch was drawing nearer. Shut up in the

palace, they would be powerless to save Artemisia. The moments seemed

hours to him. At last he could bear the suspense no longer.

"We should never have permitted the chancellor to leave us!" he said,

and, striding to the door, he began to beat upon it with the hilt of

his sword until the metal of which it was composed rang like a bell.

There was no response. The others joined him, raising a tumult loud

enough to be heard throughout the palace, but even then some time

elapsed before the bars were removed and the door swung open. The

chancellor had returned alone, his face white and scared in the

flickering light of the lamp that he had set upon the stone floor while

he worked at the bars.

"Silence, or we are all lost!" he whispered imploringly, taking up the

lamp with a hand that trembled so that the oil spilled upon the floor.

"Do you want to invite death?"

"Don't talk to us of silence!" bellowed Chares, threatening the old man

with his sword. "What do you mean by shutting us up here? You have

yet to learn that it is not wise to keep the soldiers of Alexander

waiting. Take us to your king."

"Yes, yes!" muttered the chancellor with chattering teeth. "Follow me;

but in the name of Baal keep silence! I fear they have heard you

already."

"Little I care if they have, whoever they are," the Theban exclaimed,

stalking after the chancellor, sword in hand. "If you try any more of

your tricks, your head goes off like a chicken's."

They made several turns in the passage, ascended a last short flight of

steps, and came to a second door, which their guide pushed open. They

followed him into a large room, hung with woven tapestries, carpeted

with silken rugs, and strewn with luxurious divans. It was on the

southern side of the palace, with windows that looked out across the

wall toward the sea. The light of the lamps was already yielding to

the gray dawn which silvered the surface of the water.

With his back to the window stood Azemilcus, king of the doomed city.

His thin white hair straggled from under a close-fitting cap to the

diamond collar which encircled his wrinkled throat. A gorgeous robe of

crimson hid his shrunken figure. He looked old and feeble, but his

eyes were as bright as jewels set in the head of a mummy.

"Welcome, gentlemen!" he said quietly, stretching forth a wasted hand

toward Chares, who was striding toward him with anger in his face. "I

must ask your pardon for your detention; but we are prisoners here,

like yourselves."

Astonishment halted the Theban, who stood staring at the king as though

he had not heard aright. Clearchus stepped forward.

"What do you mean? Who has made you a prisoner?" he asked sharply.

The small king smiled with irony on his lips.

"I fear it can be only the prince, my son," he replied.

"The same one who helped to bring us here and who left us as soon as we

entered the palace?" Clearchus demanded.

"Yes," Azemilcus answered, crossing his hands and hiding them in the

wide sleeves of his robe. "He is not sharp-witted, my son; and it

turns out that he still has hopes of saving Tyre so that he may reign

here in my place. You see what they have been doing."

He stepped back and waved his hand toward the window. Beneath them was

the breach that had been so desperately attacked and defended. The

Tyrians had raised a new wall, nearly as thick and as high as the city

wall itself. It formed a half-circle inside the gap, joining the main

wall at either end, so that an attacking force, seeking to storm the

breach, would be caught as in the bend of a bow. Swarms of men were

still at work there by the light of torches.

The Athenian's heart sank. It seemed to him impossible that after the

defeat of the preceding day, a second attack could succeed when the

breach had been repaired. They were inside the city, it was true, but

they were only five against forty thousand.

For a moment there was silence in the room. The bitter smile still

rested on the thin lips of the old king. The chancellor stood

nervously rubbing his knuckles, first with one hand and then with the

other. Leonidas examined the wall and the new work with an eye that

took in every detail. He turned to the king.

"You know that if you try to deceive us, we will kill you," he said

quietly.

"Well?" the king replied, still with his thin smile.

"You say that it is your son who has shut you up," Leonidas continued.

"Why do you think so?"

"Because he alone, besides this man, knew that I had summoned you," the

king said.

Leonidas looked at the chancellor, whose ashen face grew a shade paler

under his scrutiny.

"You were about to betray your city and your son has betrayed you," the

Spartan said.

"That is a harsh way to put it," Azemilcus answered. "The city was

lost already."

"Is it lost now?" Leonidas demanded, pointing to the new wall.

"Yes," said the old king. "To-day, to-morrow, next month, it will

fall. The Gods have deserted us. The boy told me they would."

"It is not surprising that the Gods have deserted you," the Spartan

observed. "But your son, who has conspired against you, knows that we

are here."

"Yes," the king admitted.

"And you kept us shut up while you were considering whether there was

not some way of getting rid of us so that we might not be found and

used as proof of your treachery," Leonidas continued. "You were ready

to sacrifice us, who had come to save you, so that you might prove your

son a liar and defeat his attempt."

Azemilcus made no reply, but the smile left his lips and he glanced

furtively from side to side. Chares muttered some words in his throat

that sounded like a curse.

"You are speaking to a king," Azemilcus said at last, drawing himself

up with an assumption of dignity and trying to meet the eyes of his

questioner.

"I am speaking to a fool!" Leonidas replied contemptuously. "In order

to profit by his double perfidy, your son must have proof against you.

Who will believe him unless we are found? It will be his first care to

produce us, and if he can do this, there will be no hope left for you.

Every moment that you kept us behind that door brought you nearer to

death."

He paused, and Azemilcus made no reply; but his smile came back and his

eyes wandered toward a table where a great flagon of wine had been set.

"There may yet be time to save ourselves and you," Leonidas continued.

"If you can get rid of us for the present, you will have nothing to

fear. You can deny your son's story and it will be attributed to a

clumsy plot to overthrow you. Is there no way out of the palace that

is not guarded?"

"None that I know," the king replied.

The chancellor uttered a clucking sound in his throat that seemed

involuntary. Leonidas gripped him by the shoulder.

"Do you know a way?" he cried. "Speak quickly."

The chancellor went down on his knees and raised his hands in

supplication.

"Mercy!" he wailed. "Mercy! I know--I have heard of a way!"

"Where does it lead?" Leonidas demanded fiercely.

"To the Temple of our Lord, Baal-Moloch," the old man whimpered.

King Azemilcus looked at his chancellor with his keen eyes and

sarcastic smile.

"Now I understand many things," he remarked dryly.

"Oh, my master, I took them!" the chancellor cried, with tears rolling

down his cheeks. "Esmun made me do it. He said Moloch demanded them."

"My rubies," the king said musingly. "Well, never mind. We will talk

of them hereafter."

"What is one piece of treachery, more or less, to you?" Leonidas said

roughly. "Remain here. Should you escape your son, we will seek you,

if we can, when those come whom you cannot escape. If we do not

return, fly to the Temple of Melkarth and embrace his knees that you

may be spared. Farewell!"

He dragged the chancellor to his feet. The man was shaking so that he

could hardly stand. Below them in the palace they could hear the tramp

of ascending footsteps and the sound of voices.

"They are coming; we cannot remain here," Nathan cried.

Leonidas snatched up the flagon of wine and hastily filled a golden cup

that he offered to the chancellor.

"Drink this," he said. "It will give you strength."

Instead of taking the cup, the chancellor uttered a choking cry and

pushed it from him.

"Not that!" he gasped. "See, I am strong! I will lead you!"

He seemed indeed to have recovered from his weakness, for he stepped

briskly toward the door by which they had entered. Leonidas looked at

him and then at the wine spilled upon the floor.

"Poisoned!" he exclaimed, and such a blaze of wrath gleamed in his eye

that the old king shrank back.

"So this was your plan for getting rid of us!" the Spartan said.

His grasp tightened about the hilt of his sword, and for an instant he

hesitated; but the tramp of the soldiers was close at hand and he

reflected that a dead king could not betray Tyre. He sheathed his

sword and darted into the passage after his companions. Azemilcus made

fast the door behind them and let the draperies fall over it. Then he

turned with his mocking smile to face his accusers.

The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great · 第 42 / 49 章