[Illustration: THE DEPARTURE.]
A
YOUNG MACEDONIAN
_IN THE ARMY OF_
ALEXANDER THE GREAT
BY THE
REV. ALFRED J. CHURCH, M.A.
_Lately Professor of Latin in University College, London_
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
LONDON
SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED
ESSEX STREET, STRAND
1890
The visit of Alexander to Jerusalem is recorded by Josephus only. The
fact that it is not mentioned by Arrian, who had contemporary diaries
before him, by Quintus Curtius, or by Diodorus Siculus, certainly throws
some doubt upon it. But it must be remembered that Jerusalem was not more
interesting than any other Syrian town to these writers. Bishop Westcott
thinks that Josephus’s narrative may be true, and I am content to make
this opinion my defence for introducing the incident into my story.
A. C.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. A WRONG 1
II. A REVENGE 9
III. PREPARATIONS 24
IV. AT TROY 40
V. AT THE GRANĪCUS 48
VI. HALICARNASSUS 60
VII. MEMNON 73
VIII. AT SEA 83
IX. IN GREECE AGAIN 98
X. AT ATHENS 114
XI. A PERILOUS VOYAGE 122
XII. ON THE WRONG SIDE 137
XIII. DAMASCUS 150
XIV. MANASSEH THE JEW 162
XV. ANDROMACHÉ 173
XVI. TO JERUSALEM 180
XVII. TYRE 190
XVIII. THE ESCAPE 204
XIX. THE HIGH PRIEST 213
XX. FROM TYRE TO THE TIGRIS 226
XXI. ARBELA 237
XXII. AT BABYLON 251
XXIII. A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE 261
XXIV. VENGEANCE 273
XXV. DARIUS 284
XXVI. INVALIDED 294
XXVII. NEWS FROM THE EAST 300
XXVIII. THE END 315
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE DEPARTURE _Frontispiece_
ALEXANDER THE GREAT 18
ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES 36
BARSINÉ 82
APOLLO AND CHEIRON 102
DEMOSTHENES 108
DARIUS 134
ALEXANDER AND BUCEPHALUS 146
THE TREASURE CARAVAN 156
THE SWING 160
HUNTING 220
AMMON 224
THE COMPANIONS 248
IN THE GARDENS OF BABYLON 258
THE BANQUET AT MARACANDA 304
THE INDIAN BACCHUS 312
A YOUNG MACEDONIAN
CHAPTER I
A WRONG
The “Boys’ Foot-race” at the great games of Olympia, celebrated now for
the one hundred and eleventh time since the epoch of Corœbus, has just
been run, and the victor is about to receive his crown of wild olive.
The herald proclaims with a loud voice, “Charidemus, son of Callicles
of Argos, come forward, and receive your prize!” A lad, who might have
been thought to number seventeen or eighteen summers, so tall and well
grown was he, but who had really only just completed his fifteenth year,
stepped forward. His face was less regularly handsome than those of the
very finest Greek type, for the nose was more arched, the chin more
strongly marked, and the forehead more square, than a sculptor would
have made them in moulding a boy Apollo; still the young Charidemus had
a singularly winning appearance, especially now that a smile shone out
of his frank blue eyes and parted lips, lips that were neither so full
as to be sensual, nor so thin as to be cruel. The dark chestnut curls
fell clustering about his neck, for the Greek boy was not cropped in the
terrier fashion of his English successor, and the ruddy brown of his
clear complexion showed a health nurtured by clean living and exercise. A
hum of applause greeted the young athlete, for he had many friends among
the young and old of Argos, and he was remarkable for the worth that—
“appears with brighter shine
When lodged within a worthy shrine”[1]
—a charm which commends itself greatly to the multitude. As Charidemus
approached the judges a lad stepped forward from the throng that
surrounded the tribunal, and exclaimed, “I object.”
All eyes were turned upon the speaker. He was immediately recognized as
the competitor who had won the second place, a good runner, who might
have hoped for victory in ordinary years, but who had had no chance
against the extraordinary fleetness of the young Argive. He was of a
well-set, sturdy figure; his face, without being at all handsome, was
sufficiently pleasing, though just at the moment it had a look which
might have meant either sullenness or shame.
“Who is it that speaks?” said the presiding judge.
“Charondas, son of Megasthenes, of Thebes,” was the answer.
“And what is your objection?” asked the judge.
“I object to Charidemus, alleged to be of Argos, because he is a
barbarian.”
The sensation produced by these words was great, even startling. There
could scarcely be a greater insult than to say to any one who claimed
to be a Greek that he was a barbarian. Greeks, according to a creed
that no one thought of questioning, were the born rulers and masters of
the world, for whom everything had been made, and to whom everything
belonged; barbarians were inferior creatures, without human rights, who
might be permitted to exist if they were content to minister to the
well-being of their masters, but otherwise were to be dealt with as so
many noxious beasts.
An angry flush mounted to the young runner’s face. A fierce light flashed
from his eyes, lately so smiling, and the red lips were set firmly
together. He had now the look of one who could make himself feared as
well as loved. His friends were loud in their expressions of wrath. With
an emphatic gesture of his hand the judge commanded silence. “Justify
your words,” he said to the Theban lad.
For a few moments Charondas stood silent. Then he turned to the crowd, as
if looking for inspiration or help. A man of middle age stepped forward
and addressed the judge.
“Permit me, sir, on behalf of my son, whose youth and modesty hinder him
from speaking freely in your august presence, to make a statement of
facts.”
“Speak on,” said the judge, “but say nothing that you cannot prove. Such
charges as that which we have just heard may not be lightly brought.”
“I allege that Charidemus, said to be of Argos, is not in truth the son
of Callicles, but is by birth a Macedonian.”
The word “Macedonian” produced almost as much sensation as had been made
by the word “barbarian.” The Macedonians were more than suspected of
compassing the overthrow of Greek liberties.
“Where is your proof?” asked the judge.
“There will be proof sufficient if your august tribunal will summon
Callicles himself to appear before it and make confession of what he
knows.”
The judge accordingly commanded that Callicles should be called. The
summons was immediately obeyed. A man who was approaching old age, and
whose stooping form and shrunken limbs certainly showed a striking
contrast to the blooming vigour of Charidemus, stood before the judges.
The president spoke.
“I adjure you, by the name of Zeus of Olympia, that you tell the truth.
Is Charidemus indeed your son?”
The man hesitated a moment. “I adopted Charidemus in his infancy.”
“That proves your affection, but not his race,” said the judge in a stern
voice. “Tell us the truth, and prevaricate no more.”
“He was the son of my sister.”
“And his father?”
“His father was Caranus of Pella.”
“A Macedonian, therefore.”
“Yes, a Macedonian.”
“Why then did you enter him as your son for the foot-race?”
“Because I had adopted him with all due formalities, and in the eye of
the law he is my son.”
“But that did not make him a Greek of pure descent, such as by the
immemorial custom of these games he is bound to be.”
A hum of approval went round the circle of spectators, whilst angry
glances were cast at the Argive and his adopted son. Only the sanctity of
the spot prevented a show of open violence, so hateful had the name of
Macedonian become.
Callicles began to gather courage now that the secret was out. He
addressed the judges again.
“You forget, gentlemen, that in the time of the war with the Persians
Alexander of Macedon was permitted to compete in the chariot-race.”
“True,” replied the judge, “but then he showed an unbroken descent from
the hero Achilles.”
“Just so,” rejoined Callicles, “and Caranus was of the royal kindred.”
“The blood may easily have become mixed during the hundred and forty
years which have passed since the days of Alexander. Besides, that which
may be accepted as a matter of notoriety in the case of a king must be
duly proved when a private person is concerned. Have you such proof at
hand in regard to this youth?”
Callicles was obliged to confess that he had not. The presiding judge
then intimated that he would consider the matter with his colleagues, and
give the decision of the court probably in less than an hour. As a matter
of fact, the consultation was a mere formality. After a few minutes the
judges reappeared, and the president announced their decision.
“We pronounce Charidemus to be disqualified as having failed to prove
that he is of Hellenic descent, and adjudge the prize to Charondas the
Theban. We fine Callicles of Argos five minas[2] for having made a false
representation.”
Loud applause greeted this judgment. Such was the feeling in force at
that time that any affront that could be offered to a Macedonian was
eagerly welcomed by a Greek audience. Very likely there were some in the
crowd who had felt the touch of Philip’s “silver spears.”[3] If so, they
were even louder than their fellows in their expressions of delight.
It would be difficult to describe the feelings of dismay and rage which
filled the heart of the young Charidemus as he walked away from the
tribunal. As soon as he found himself alone he broke out into a violent
expression of them. “A curse on these cowardly Greeks,” he cried; “I am
heartily glad that I am not one of them. By Zeus, if I could let out the
half of my blood that comes from them I would. They dare not meet us in
the field, and they revenge themselves for their defeats by insults such
as these. By Ares, they shall pay me for it some day; especially that
clumsy lout, who filches by craft what he could not win by speed.”
If he had seen the way in which the young Theban received the prize that
had been adjudged to him in this unsatisfactory way, he would have
thought less hardly of him. Charondas had been driven into claiming the
crown; but he hated himself for doing it. Gladly would he have refused to
receive it; gladly, even—but such an act would have been regarded as an
unpardonable impiety—would he have thrown the chaplet upon the ground. As
it was, he was compelled to take and wear it, and, shortly afterwards, to
sit out the banquet given by his father in his honour. But he was gloomy
and dissatisfied, as little like as possible to a successful competitor
for one of the most coveted distinctions in Greek life. As soon as he
found himself at liberty he hastened to the quarters of Charidemus and
his father, but found that they were gone. Perhaps it was as well that
the two should not meet just then. It was not long before an occasion
arose which brought them together.