The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great

CHAPTER XXIX
THE SLUICE GATE

Cautiously and in silence they threaded their way from one branch of the canal to another, through the fields of grain and vegetables that spread like a vast garden for miles across the low country. Here and there along the banks were farmers' huts, and occasionally they passed through the estate of a Persian landowner who followed agriculture as the noblest pursuit in which a man could engage, according to the teachings of his religion. In many places the canal was shut in on both sides by reeds which reached a height of ten, or even fifteen, feet.

They had proceeded for perhaps two hours and had made so many turns that the Greeks had long ago lost all idea of direction, when they reached a cluster of date-palms. Nathan guided the boat to a landing-place, and they stepped ashore.

"Jonathan, are you there?" he called softly.

"I am here," replied a guarded voice, and from among the trees stood forth the figure of an old man. "Pull your boat ashore and follow me," he said briefly.

They lifted the boat out of the canal and concealed it carefully among the rushes. The old man conducted them along a narrow path which brought them to a group of farm buildings, among which stood a large country house. They entered by the rear and passed through several dark passages until they came to a door, before which Jonathan halted and knocked. A deep voice from within bade them enter. They found themselves in a large, dimly lighted room, the walls of which were lined with cases filled with rolls of papyrus. On a long table stood a shaded lamp among scattered papyri, half unrolled, and the materials for writing.

A man of venerable appearance, with a spreading white beard, which reached his girdle, rose from the table to greet them.

"This is Nehemiah, whose ancestor was Daniel the prophet, viceroy of Babylon," Nathan said. "These are the Greeks, Clearchus of Athens and Chares of Thebes, concerning whom I wrote thee," he added, turning to the old man.

"You are welcome in this house," Nehemiah said gravely. "Jonathan, bring food and wine."

He gathered the manuscripts tenderly from the table and laid them away, setting chairs for his guests. While the refreshment was being prepared Nathan related the adventures of their escape, to which the old man listened with close attention.

"Thou hast done well," Nehemiah said, when Nathan came to the end. "I have been considering that which thou told me, of the vision of the viceroy in the third year of Belshazzar, at Susa, by the River Ulai, and verily do I believe that thou art right. The rough he-goat is come out of the West, and for the kingdom of Persia, the time of its end is at hand. I have examined the writings of Daniel, in which, as Gabriel ordered him, he shut up the vision two hundred years ago. The kingdom of Israel is bound to the Archæmenian line; but if thou canst win for thy people the favor of the he-goat, thou mayst be the means of saving them."

"I shall try," Nathan replied simply.

"Thou wilt understand," Nehemiah continued, addressing himself to Clearchus, "that if I am to aid you, it must be done in secret. It is evident that you are in need of rest," he added, glancing at Chares, who was nodding over the golden goblet that he had emptied. "A hue and cry will be raised for you, but I think I can keep you safe until you have gained strength for your long journey."

Having dismissed Jonathan, he took up the lamp and led them to a hidden chamber in the upper part of the house, where he left them. They fell asleep at daybreak and woke at nightfall. After they had eaten, Nehemiah provided them with fresh garments and with horses of the Nisæan breed, the fleetest in his stable, and gave them weapons. He also furnished them with money for their flight.

"My men have brought me word from the city of your escape," he said, "and the Great King is filled with wrath. Ten of the guard were crucified this morning at the gates; but Boupares so far has not been arrested. All the court is talking about Clearchus' plunge from the wall. It is thought that Beltis herself must have borne him up, and it is even said that the Goddess was seen in the air beside him. Her priests will make the most of it, and, should you be taken, this may be turned to account."

"What knowest thou of the pursuit, father?" Nathan asked.

"They have sent out a thousand horsemen to search the plain on this side of the river," the old man replied. "Thou wilt use caution and hold to the unfrequented ways until the chase slackens. For the rest, put thy trust in the Most High. He will save thee out of their hands if He so wills it. Farewell."

They rode into the night under the stars, bearing away from the river, and keeping to paths known to Nathan among the reeds and groves. At frequent intervals they came upon one or another of the canals which intersected the plain in all directions. Chares and Clearchus were filled with wonder at the enormous amount of labor that had been expended in digging the great ditches which carried the water of the river for irrigating the plain, and at the system of reservoirs by which it was stored for the dry season. Some of these formed lakes of considerable size, dammed by great gates built of timber that could be raised or lowered by means of levers.

As they proceeded westward toward the desert which lay between them and the land of Israel, the level country was broken by low ridges and hills, between which wound the canals. Vegetation became less luxuriant and the houses less frequent.

Twice at the beginning of their ride they heard parties of horsemen near them, whom they took to be detachments of the searchers. Once they turned aside into a crossroad just in time to avoid a meeting. But as they approached nearer to the border between the waste and the cultivated bottom lands, no sounds reached their ears excepting the trampling of their own horses, and they began to hope that they had left their pursuers behind.

"Tell me, Clearchus," Chares said, after a period of reflection, "is there any truth in what they say about you?"

"What do you mean?" Clearchus replied.

"Why, about this Beltis, you know. Is it true that you are a modern Endymion?"

"I don't know anything about her," Clearchus said.

"I thought you had more confidence in me," the Theban continued reproachfully. "If you think I shall say anything about it when we reach Tyre, you are mistaken. I hope I know enough to hold my tongue about such delicate matters. Is she as handsome as they say she is?"

"Listen!" whispered Nathan, holding up his hand and drawing rein.

The others came to a halt. They had been riding up a shallow valley along one of the canals. Beside them rose a low ridge which separated them from the next depression. Beyond this ridge they could hear the beating of hoofs and the jingling of bridles. From the sound they judged that twenty or thirty horsemen were advancing in a direction parallel to their own.

"The roads join half a mile farther on," Nathan whispered. "It is more than likely that they will turn back along this one."

"Then we must make a dash for it and get there first," Chares said. "Come on, I feel as though a race would do me good!"

"We might cross the ridge and fall in behind them," Clearchus suggested.

"Don't spoil sport; and besides, they would surely see us," Chares replied. "Forward! Is not thy Beltis with us?"

Without waiting for a reply he struck in his spurs and darted forward, with the others thundering at his heels. The party beyond the ridge, hearing the hoof-beats, also broke into a gallop, evidently being acquainted with the fact that the roads converged. Their horses, however, were no match for the Nisæans. Neck and neck, with long, even strides, they raced up the road and swept past the meeting point while the pursuers were still a hundred yards away.

Nathan looked back and recognized the uniform of the palace guard. The detachment consisted of men who, he knew, were both brave and skilful, and who would not relinquish the chase while a chance of success remained. Their numbers made it impossible to think of facing them. There was nothing for it but to keep on.

Beyond the point where the roads joined the ridges became higher and steeper, drawing together until there was barely room for the track beside the canal. It was no longer practicable to leave the valley, because to climb the acclivity that shut them in on either side would have been difficult work for a footman, and it was out of the question for horses. The gorge turned and twisted between the hills. Although Nathan had never travelled this road before, he drew comfort from the fact that the canal still flowed sluggishly beside them. It must lead them eventually, he believed, to more open country.

They had ridden a little more than a mile through this defile, which seemed once to have been the bed of a stream, when Chares, who was in the lead, drew up with a cry of dismay. Further progress was barred by a steep dam of earth and stone. In the middle of the dam was the usual gate, built of heavy timbers and planks. The water spurted through the cracks into the bed of the canal.

"It looks as though we should have to make a stand here," the Theban cried. "We cannot surmount this."

"Are you anxious to die?" Clearchus said. "They would get above us on the banks and spear us like so many frogs."

Nathan had thrown himself from his horse. He ran to the gate. As he had expected, he found a narrow foot-path leading upward beside it.

"Come along," he cried. "Here is a way up. Leave the horses where they are."

Down the valley behind them they could hear the shouting of the guards, racing with each other in the narrow road in their eagerness to claim the great reward that Boupares had offered for the capture of the fugitives.

Clearchus and Chares dismounted and scrambled after Nathan up the path. Their horses, deserted by their riders in the darkness, neighed shrilly and strove to follow, digging their hoofs into the sand and gravel, which fell in showers into the canal.

At the top of the path a large reservoir spread placidly far to the right and left in a basin surrounded by low hills.

Nathan ran to the gate and knocked out the wooden pins that held it in place. It rose a few inches, and the water began to gush and gurgle beneath it. The Israelite seized a lever and thrust it into its notch, calling to Clearchus and Chares to do the same on the other side.

The pursuit had almost reached the foot of the gate when the leader of the detachment, a young man with a handsome face, saw that his horse was splashing through the rising water and realized the danger that threatened them. He gave a sharp command to halt. He glanced quickly forward, and then back along the way they had come, as though considering what course to take.

No time was allowed him for decision. Nathan, Clearchus, and Chares strained at the levers.

With a sharp creak the heavy gate was loosened, and the flood that rushed beneath it helped to force it upward.

Roaring angrily, the water foamed into the gorge, filling it from side to side with a torrent ten feet deep that dashed impatiently against the walls of the tortuous channel.

The guardsmen had no chance to escape. Like men of straw, they were lifted, horse and rider together, whirled over and over, and swept down the valley on the crest of the yellow wave. Their cries were choked in the rush of the water.

Nathan and Clearchus dropped their levers and stood gazing at the surface of the turbid stream. Chares joined them.

"It is a pity," he said regretfully. "They deserved a better death. I wish we could have had a bout with them; but it may be all for the best. Let them go as a sacrifice to My Lady Beltis. By Dionysus, she has given us back our horses, too! Look here!"

One of the Nisæans had gained the top of the dam and another was close behind him. The third had been overtaken by the flood and was struggling piteously for a foothold with his fore feet. Chares caught him by the bit and dragged him up to safety. They mounted and struck off at random among the hills, seeking to get as far away as possible before daylight should break.

This was the only direct encounter that they had with the soldiers of the pursuit. Skirting the desert, they made their way northward and westward until all danger of capture had passed. Once, in seeking to cross an arm of the sandy waste, they went astray and nearly perished from thirst. On another occasion they were surrounded by a band of robbers, from whom they barely escaped. This last adventure took place on the eastern slope of Mount Amanus on the borders of Cilicia, where they arrived after a month of wandering. It was here that they began once more to hear the name of Alexander and to feel the currents of the mighty storm that was gathering on the flank of the empire of Darius.

CHAPTER XXX
LEONIDAS UNDERTAKES A MISSION

Down from the Phrygian plateau, through a land that glowed with the touch of autumn, marched the Macedonian host, with Alexander at its head. On a clear October night the army halted at the foot of the rugged and forbidding crags of the Taurus. Leonidas with his cavalry troop followed the young king in the attack upon the Cilician Gates, which scattered the guard stationed there and opened the way into the satrapy of Cilicia.

From one of the captives taken at the pass, Alexander learned that the satrap Arsames had planned to plunder the city of Tarsus and retreat into Syria with his spoil. While the main body of the troops was still filing through the pass, he gathered a chosen body of cavalry and light infantry and swooped like a falcon upon the town. The Spartan rode that day at the head of his squadron for fifty miles; and Arsames, abandoning all thought of plunder, deemed himself fortunate to escape with his garrison.

It was here that Alexander fell ill from bathing in the icy waters of the Cydnus, and the rumor spread through the army that his life was in danger. Grief and anxiety pervaded the camp. The toughest of the veterans, with tears in their eyes, gathered before the house in which he lay, demanding news of his condition. The physicians came and went with grave faces and in silence.

Although his fever ran high, Alexander insisted upon receiving his friends as usual and attending to his affairs. One day came a letter from Parmenio, who had been sent forward with a strong detachment to secure the southern pass into Syria through the Amanic range. The young king read it thoughtfully, and Leonidas noticed that he thrust it under his pillow without discussing its contents as his custom was.

A conference of the physicians was being held to consider the king's malady, for it was evident that some decisive measure must be taken if the fever was to be checked. In this consultation a dispute arose between Philip of Acarnania and the other physicians. Philip maintained that a strong remedy should be given, but when he named the potion that he proposed to administer, his colleagues declared that they would have no part in it, holding the opinion that the drugs would surely kill the patient.

Hearing the voices raised in controversy, Alexander demanded the reason. He called the doctors before him and listened to all they had to say.

"Will this draught of which you speak enable me to ride Bucephalus in three days?" he asked of Philip.

"I will answer for it," the Acarnanian replied.

"Compound it, then, for me," the young king said. "When it is ready, I will take it."

He turned his face away and the physicians left him. During the interval of waiting he talked with Clitus, Philotas, Leonidas, and others of his Companions concerning the Trojan war, but, noting their evident anxiety, he broke off to rally them upon it.

"Do not think," he said, laughing, "that we have come so far and endured so much to stop here. There is many a campaign yet before us."

When Philip came, bringing an earthen bowl containing a liquid which steamed with an odor of spices, he raised himself on his couch and drew Parmenio's letter from under his pillow. As he took the bowl from the physician, he handed him the letter.

"Read it!" he said quietly, setting the potion to his lips.

With his eyes on Philip he slowly drank the medicine. The physician glanced at the letter and grew pale, but he returned Alexander's gaze without flinching.

"Drink and be of good cheer," he said. "I tell thee this after having read this charge against me."

He returned the letter as he spoke.

"I have drunk already," Alexander replied; and then, turning to Clitus, he bade him read what Parmenio had written.

"Beware of Philip, your physician," the letter ran. "I am informed that he hath been bribed by the Great King with the promise of a thousand talents and the hand of his daughter to poison thee. I beg of thee to take nothing that he may offer."

Scowling brows were turned toward the physician, who was busying himself unconcernedly in heaping fresh coverings upon his patient.

"Let no man interfere," Alexander said sternly. "Where I have placed my trust, no other shall doubt."

This warning was sufficient to restrain the Companions, even when they saw their leader lying like a dead man beneath the blankets, with closed lids and a pulse that was scarcely perceptible. But Philip never moved his watchful eyes from the pale face, and when he saw drops of perspiration rolling down the forehead a slight smile of satisfaction appeared upon his lips. His confidence and the faith that the young king had placed in him had been justified; for an hour later Alexander came out of his faintness, and, although weak, the fever had left him. He was able next day to show himself to the soldiers, and a few days later to lead them against the bandits who infested the southern part of the province, routing them from their fastnesses and scattering to the four corners of the earth those who escaped the sword. On his return he received news that Ptolemy and Astander had defeated Orontobates and captured the Salmacis and the Royal Citadel of Halicarnassus. He celebrated this victory and his recovery with sacrifice and games after the ancient manner.

Suddenly across the country like wildfire spread the news that Darius was approaching with an army so great that none might count its numbers. When inquiry was made, no man could tell whence the story had come. Alexander questioned many who were brought before him, but all gave him the same answer.

"The Great King is coming," they said. "Where he is we know not, nor when he will be here. All that we can say is that he is on the way, for the Syrians told us, and they learned it from the travellers and traders of the South."

Then came a shape of man who had once been a Corinthian. His tongue had been cut out and his ears and nose shaved away. He could only nod his head and weep when they asked him of the approach of the Persian monarch.

Alexander sent for Leonidas. The Spartan came with an impassive face, and stood awaiting his orders.

"They say Darius is on the march," he said. "Where he is and of what his army consists, no one can tell me. Choose what men you like and go to Parmenio at the Syrian Gates, where I purpose to join him with the army as soon as the march can be made. Find the Persian and bring me word there of the things that I should know."

"It shall be done," Leonidas replied.

On the evening of the fourth day after the order had been given, Leonidas, with fifteen men of his troop, whose courage had been tested in the campaign against the Pisidians, took leave of Parmenio and rode out upon the rolling plains beyond the Syrian Gates. He had learned that Darius was at Sochi, two days' march away, but when he arrived there, he found only hills and fields from which the harvests had been stripped as if by locusts, and a city where starvation reigned.

Here he learned much of the numbers and character of the host that had left such a track of desolation. From Sochi he bore away toward the left and the mountains, and on the third day overtook the Persian horde, whose camp-fires stretched for miles across the plain.

Although thousands of camp followers and women had been left behind in Damascus in charge of Cophenes, together with the greater part of the luxurious equipage of the courtiers, and of the treasure in gold and silver, which six hundred mules and three hundred camels could scarcely carry, there still remained an enormous train in the rear of the army.

Leonidas soon ascertained everything concerning the army of Darius and its composition that it was necessary for him to know; but he was astonished to find that the Great King had passed beyond the Syrian Gates, near which Alexander had expected to find him, and that he was still marching northward. This march puzzled the Spartan. It carried the Persian army each day farther from its base of supplies at Damascus, and apparently did not give the Great King a better battle ground than the one he had left behind at Sochi. He determined to keep the army in sight, at least until he had reached the Amanic Gates. There was the only other entrance from Syria into Cilicia, and through them Leonidas planned to carry the information that he had gathered to Alexander, who would be awaiting him in the southern pass. As the Persian horde advanced, he found that he was being pressed toward the wooded slopes of the mountain range. At last, as the enemy showed no intention of halting, he resolved to strike for the Amanic Gates, not daring to delay his report longer.

He soon became entangled among the rocky spurs and ravines. At last he believed that he had reached the pass, and advanced far into the mountains before some shepherds told him of his mistake. Following their directions, he crossed a lofty ridge and descended into the true pass on the evening of the second day after his departure from the Persian army. Darkness overtook him, and he was forced to encamp halfway up the precipitous slope of the valley. Before sunrise next day he roused his men and led them down toward the broad road below, which followed a watercourse.

In their descent, Leonidas and his men entered a belt of timber that for a short time hid the road from their view. They burst their way through the undergrowth, to find themselves face to face with a troop of horsemen whom Leonidas recognized at once as belonging to the army of Darius.

"The Persians have entered the pass," was the thought that flashed through his mind before he considered his own danger. That Darius would seek to enter Cilicia instead of accepting battle upon the Syrian plains was a possibility that had never even been discussed in the Macedonian councils. Leonidas realized that if Alexander had carried out his plan of marching to the Syrian Gates, far to the southward, the Persian army was about to place itself between him and the territory that he had conquered, cutting off his line of retreat. The safety of the Macedonians might depend upon his reaching Alexander in time to give him warning.

He gave a rapid glance at the Persians who confronted him. There were thirty or forty of them. Far below he caught a glimpse of the plain, where miles of troops, horse and foot, were crawling like ants toward the pass. The enemy gave him no time to see more. They raised an exultant shout and dashed upon him with lowered lances. Although Leonidas and his men fought with desperation, the Spartan realized that they were not strong enough to hold their ground. The mere weight of their opponents forced them back, inch by inch, until their horses were struggling on the brink of the slope to the bed of the stream.

"Let us die where we stand!" Leonidas shouted. "Remember that we are Greeks! Forward, forward!"

He plunged in among the Persians, thrusting at their faces, and his men were enabled to gain a few feet in the space that he had cleared. The relief was only momentary, for the Persians surrounded them on three sides and the chasm was in their rear.

The captain of the Persian troop had not mingled in the contest. Hovering in the background, he urged on his men, taking care to keep out of danger. Leonidas saw him as he wheeled, raising his arm to give a command. The sun flashed upon the glittering links of his gilded corselet. The Spartan hurled his lance at the mark with all the strength in his body. Straight flew the point of steel and split the brazen links, like a bolt from a catapult. The captain toppled from his horse and lay with his face in the dust. It was a final effort. A few moments more and all would be over.

Suddenly from the glen out of which Leonidas and his men had emerged rode a man upon a powerful black charger. In his hand he carried a lance of unusual length. His yellow hair tossed about his shoulders, and his blue eyes turned eagerly toward the righting.

"Leonidas!" he shouted. "Strike home! We are here!"

Behind him rode two companions. At sight of them the Spartan's brow cleared.

"Chares! Clearchus!" he cried.

Their coming turned the tide of the conflict. The Persians, ignorant of how many more might be following them, turned and fled down the pass before the new arrivals could strike a blow.

Leonidas embraced his friends. Of the Greeks who had fallen, only one, a young man of Caria, who had been stunned by a blow from a mace, was still alive. Clearchus caught his horse, and they lifted him upon its back.

"What brings you here?" Chares asked of Leonidas. "Where is Alexander?"

"That I will tell you later," the Spartan replied. "Look yonder!"

He pointed over the tree-tops on the lower slopes at the innumerable host that was creeping toward the mountain side.

"The Persians are about to cross the pass," he said. "Alexander and the army are in danger of being cut off, and we alone can save them."

"If Darius crosses the pass, it will be in our footsteps," Chares said. "Let us be off."

Of the men who had followed Leonidas down the mountain at daybreak, only four remained.

"Lead on, Leonidas," Clearchus said. "You are in command again."

The Spartan turned his horse's head up the pass and the others fell in behind him. They rode unchallenged, for the defile had not yet been occupied by the Persian force. From every new elevation they could see the endless lines of infantry and cavalry slowly drawing together far below them, until they passed at noon through a narrow way between lofty and beetling cliffs, and saw Cilicia lying before them, with the blue horizon of the sea in the distant southwest.