THE ESCAPE
The two companions, at the prince’s request, shared the same room, and
sat up late into the night, considering what was next to be done. The
king’s palace, where they were quartered, almost adjoined the temple.
But, beyond the fact that they were near to the scene of their proposed
operations, they could see little light. A hundred plans were started,
discussed, and rejected, and they threw themselves down on their beds
as dawn began to steal through the windows of their apartment, with
a feeling of something like despair. They had come, however, to one
conclusion. The Sidonian was to pay a visit to the temple early on the
following morning. There would be nothing singular in his doing so.
In fact, it would be more remarkable if he did not. If Melkarth was
specially worshipped in Tyre, he was, at the same time, not without
honour in Sidon; and a prince of the reigning house, the heir, in
fact, to the throne, would be expected to pay his respects to the god.
Charidemus, on the other hand, it was felt, would do well to stop away.
The popular temper was angry and suspicious, and it would be well to
avoid anything that might irritate it.
The prince paid his visit accordingly, was present at the morning
sacrifice, and propitiated the priests of the temple by an offering
of twelve of the gold pieces with which he had prudently filled his
pockets. This, however, meant very little. A more hopeful fact, as
regarded their chances of success, was the discovery that one of the
temple attendants was an old acquaintance of the prince’s, like him a
Sidonian by birth, who had worked with him in the dockyards, and had now
found a easier place in one of the subordinate offices of the temple.
The prince suspected that the man had the charge of the victims, having
seen him carry what looked like a basket of provisions into one of the
ante-chambers of the temple, but, for fear of arousing suspicion, had
not made any inquiries on the subject. He had not even, for the present,
discovered himself to his old comrade. The question was, how far the man
could be trusted. If he betrayed them, all was lost; on the other hand,
could his help be secured, the prospect of escape for themselves and
Charondas was most hopeful. And they had large inducements to offer, a
handsome sum of money in hand, the promise of his life should the city
be taken, and the hope of future advancement in his profession. He might
be a fanatic. In that case all would be lost. But the presumption was
against the idea. Fanaticism is commonly found in those who worship in
a temple rather than in those who serve in it. He might, again, be a
coward. That would be equally fatal. But, if he were a man of average
temper and courage, who would be willing to rescue a fellow creature from
death, if he found himself well paid for doing it, things might go well.
It was finally agreed—indeed no prospect seemed to open out in any other
direction—that the prince should discover himself to the man, and sound
him. This was done, and with a result that was fairly satisfactory, as
far as it went. The man had been much impressed by the new dignity of
his former comrade, and still more by his condescension and kindness
in seeking him out, and he had been effusively grateful for a present
of half-a-score of gold pieces. Asked about his pay and his duties, he
had told his questioner that he had charge of the victims destined for
sacrifice, and had mentioned that he had several under his care at the
moment. He spoke of one in particular with a good deal of feeling. He was
a fine young fellow, and he was very sorry for him. It seemed a monstrous
thing to butcher him in this fashion. In the course of the conversation
it came out that there was a serious difficulty in the case. The care of
the victims was divided between two attendants, and the other, according
to the Sidonian’s account, was a brutal and fanatical fellow, who
gloated over the fate of his charges.
After long and anxious consideration a plan was finally decided upon,
subject, of course, to such modifications as circumstances might suggest.
The prince and Charidemus, the latter being disguised as a slave, were
to make their way into the temple, shortly before it was closed for the
night. Then, and not till then, the friendly attendant was to be taken
into confidence. He seemed a man whom the weight of a secret might very
likely so burden as to make him helpless, and who might be best won by
large bribes and offers made at the last moment. If the worst came to the
worst, he might be overpowered, a course that would certainly have to be
taken with his colleague.
There was a private way from the palace into the temple, which was almost
in darkness when the companions reached it. Whatever light there was came
from a single lamp that hung between the two famous pillars, one of gold,
and one, it was said, of emerald, which were the glory of the place and
the admiration of travellers.[55] Charidemus had no thoughts for anything
but the perilous task that he had in hand, though he carried away from
the place a general impression of vast wealth and barbaric splendour.
The friendly attendant came forward to meet the new-comers. The prince
caught him by the arm. “Swear,” he said, “by Melkarth, to help us, and
don’t utter another sound, or you die this instant.” The man stammered
out the oath.
“That is well,” said the prince, “we knew that we could trust you. You
shall have wealth and honour. When Alexander is master of Tyre, you shall
be priest of the temple. Now listen to what we want. We must have this
Greek prisoner who is to be sacrificed to the god at the feast of the new
moon. He is dear to our king, and must not die.”
At this moment the other attendant came up the central avenue of the
temple, of course utterly unsuspicious of danger. The prince, a young man
of more than usual muscular power, seized him by the throat. He uttered a
stifled cry, which, however, there was no one in the temple to hear. The
next moment he was gagged, bound hand and foot, and dragged into a small
side chapel, the door of which was fastened upon him from the outside.
His keys had previously been taken from him.
“Now for the prisoner,” said the prince.
The attendant led the way to a door that opened out from the north-east
corner of the temple, and this he unlocked. It led into a spacious
chamber well lighted by two lamps that hung from the arched ceiling.
Charondas was seated on a chair of ebony and ivory; all the belongings of
the place were handsome and even costly. Round his waist was a massive
chain of gold (the prisoners of the god could not be bound by anything
less precious), which was fastened to a staple in the wall. The attendant
unlocked it, using—for the lock was double—first his own key, and then
one that had been taken from the person of his colleague.
“Explanations afterwards,” whispered Charidemus; “now we must act.”
The prince looked inquiringly at the attendant. What was to be done
after the release of the prisoner was to be left, it had been agreed, to
circumstances. What the circumstances really were, no one knew so well as
this man.
“I have it,” cried the temple servant, meditating for a few moments, and
he led the way to a small chamber used for keeping the sacred vestments.
He then explained his plan.
“There is a small temple at the mouth of the southern harbour. If we can
get there, it will be something; and I think we can. Anyhow it is our
best chance.”
Charidemus and the prince were disguised as priests. So ample
were the robes that the figure of the person wearing them became
undistinguishable, while the tall mitre with which the head was covered
could be so worn that any slight difference of height would not be
observed. The attendant, when he had finished robing them, an operation
that of course he performed with a practised skill, pronounced that they
made a very good pair of priests. He wore his own official dress, and
arrayed the Theban in one that belonged to his comrade.
Thus equipped, the party set out, the pretended priests in front, and the
attendants behind, holding a canopy over their superiors. They made their
way at the slow and measured pace that befitted their profession to the
harbour temple, passed the guard which was set at the land entrance to
the port without challenge, and reached the sacred building without any
mishap.
They were now close to the water, and could even see the friendly ships
of the southern blockading squadron; but the guard ships by which the
mouth of the harbour was closed were between them and safety. The
question was, how these were to be passed. It was a question that had to
be answered without delay, for they could see from a window of the temple
which commanded a view of the whole harbour signs of commotion, such
as the flashing of torches, which indicated that their escape had been
discovered.
This indeed was the case. The king had sent an attendant a little after
sunset to summon his guests to the evening meal. He reported their
absence to his master, who, however, for a time suspected nothing. But
when a second messenger found them still absent, inquiries were made.
Some one had heard sounds in the temple, and the temple was searched;
after that everything else that had happened could be seen or guessed.
Nothing remained for the fugitives but to strip off their garments
and plunge into the water. Unfortunately the temple attendant was an
indifferent swimmer. A boat, however, was lying moored some thirty yards
from the shore, and this the party managed to reach. But by the time that
they had all clambered on board, a thing which it always takes some time
to do, the pursuers were within a hundred yards of the harbour-temple.
It must be explained that at each end of the row of ships by which the
harbour mouth was protected, was an empty hulk, and that between the hulk
and the pier side was a narrow opening only just broad and deep enough
for a boat to pass over. This the prince had observed on some former
occasion when he had been reconnoitring the defences of the harbour, and
he now steered towards it, the rowers tugging at their oars with all
their might. The boat had nearly reached the passage when the manœuvre
was observed. The crew of the nearest ship hastened to get on board the
hulk; but the distance between these two was too great for a leap, and
in the darkness the gangway commonly used could not be at once found.
At the very moment when it was put into position the boat had cleared
the passage. So shallow indeed was the water that the hinder part of the
keel had stuck for a few moments, but when the four occupants threw their
weight into the bow, which was already in deeper water, it floated over.
Happily the night was very dark. The sky was overcast, and it still
wanted a day to the new moon. Nor did the torches with which the whole
line of galleys was ablaze, make it easier to distinguish an object
outside the range of their light. Still the boat could be dimly seen,
and till it was beyond the range of missiles the fugitives could not
consider themselves safe. And indeed they did not wholly escape. Both
Charidemus and Charondas were struck with bullets that caused somewhat
painful contusions, the prince was slightly wounded in the hand, and the
attendant more seriously in the arm, which was indeed almost pierced
through by an arrow. A few more strokes, however, carried them out of
range, and they were safe.