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CHAPTER XXXI
ALEXANDER IS SURPRISED

In the second watch of the night, the Macedonian outposts challenged four men whose horses were flecked with foam. The strangers came from the direction of Issus, along the narrow and rugged road that led southward through the Syrian Gates, between the mountains and the sea. Alexander had led his army that day through the pass, and it was encamped at Myriandrus. In the moonlight the sentinels saw that the strangers were grimy with dust and that their faces were grim and gray with fatigue.

"I am Leonidas, of the Companions," said one of the riders who seemed to be the leader. "Lead me to the general in charge."

They were conducted to Ptolemy, son of Lagus, who immediately recognized Leonidas. He greeted Chares and Clearchus with surprise. The Spartan led him aside.

"Darius is at Issus," he said.

Ptolemy stared at him incredulously.

"The Persians behind us!" he exclaimed. "You must be dreaming!"

"No," Leonidas replied. "All day we have fled before them."

"The king must know at once," Ptolemy said. "Follow me."

He led the way through the sleeping camp to Alexander's tent, in which a lamp was burning. A sentinel stood before it in full armor.

"What is your business?" he demanded.

"I must speak with the king," Ptolemy replied.

"The king left orders that he must not be disturbed. Wait until the morning," the man said calmly.

"I will take the responsibility," Ptolemy retorted angrily. "Stand aside!"

"You cannot pass," the soldier answered, without moving.

"What is this?" Alexander inquired, raising the curtain of the tent. He held in his hand a copy of the Iliad, in which he had been reading. "Is it you, Ptolemy – and Leonidas? Enter."

They followed him into the tent, which contained nothing save his weapons and a couch spread upon the ground.

"Clearchus and Chares back again!" the young king cried in a tone of satisfaction. "You have much to tell me; but first I must hear what Leonidas brings."

"Darius and his army have passed the Amanic Gates and are now at Issus," Leonidas said briefly.

The smile left Alexander's lips.

"How many men has he?" he asked.

"Five hundred thousand, of whom thirty thousand are mercenaries of Greek blood," Leonidas answered.

"They are in our rear," Alexander said, half to himself. He began to pace backward and forward, with his hands behind his back and his head inclined slightly toward his left shoulder. Although the startling news brought to him by the Spartan had taken him wholly by surprise, his decision was swift. Before he had made three turnings, his entire plan of campaign had been changed.

"The Gods have delivered them into our hands!" he said in a tone of conviction. "I dared not expect such good fortune. In the narrow plain of Issus, their army will defeat itself. The victory is ours."

His face was radiant and he spoke joyously, like a man whose mind has been relieved of a great anxiety; but his eyes were fastened upon the face of Ptolemy. Alexander had not failed to note the expression of apprehension that his lieutenant wore. He saw it vanish before the warmth of his own confidence. He felt that he would be able to avert any feeling of panic that might arise in the army at the unexpected turn of events.

"This is good news you bring," he said to Leonidas, "and I am repaid for waiting."

He glanced sharply at the sunken eyes and bloodless lips of the Spartan and spoke to the sentinel.

"Tell them to bring food and wine at once," he commanded.

The young king's eyes fell upon Nathan, apparently for the first time.

"Who is this?" he asked. "Come forward."

The Israelite had been standing in the background, watching Alexander's face with a gaze of peculiar intensity.

"This is Nathan, who led us captive from Halicarnassus," Clearchus replied. "He saved us when we were condemned to death in Babylon, and his aid enabled us to assist Leonidas in escaping from the Persians so as to bring you his news. He wishes to take service under you, and at your leisure to tell you of certain prophecies concerning you that were inspired by the God of Israel."

"It is well," Alexander said. "He will serve with you and Chares in the squadron that Leonidas commands. Ptolemy, send a thousand of your men to hold the pass behind us, until we come."

Alexander insisted that the young men should eat the food that was brought into the tent in obedience to his order. While they were satisfying their hunger, he plied them with questions concerning Darius and his army, the character of his men and their commanders, and the formation and resources of the country about Babylon. It was late when he finally permitted them to retire.

In the morning Alexander called a general council of his leaders to impart to them the information that Leonidas had brought. He gave it without comment, foreseeing that its first effect would be to arouse uncertainty and dismay that must be overcome before the men would be fit for battle.

The council was held in the open air in front of Alexander's tent. There came the captains of the Companions and of the phalanx and the generals of the allies. About them pressed the rank and file of the army, curious to learn the cause of the summons. Parmenio stood beside Alexander, his furrowed face grave with thought.

All eyes were turned upon the countenance of the young king, glowing with confidence and enthusiasm.

"Darius and his army are behind you, at Issus," he announced. "I have called you together to learn your opinions as to what we should do. Let each speak freely."

For a moment the soldiers stood in silence, looking doubtfully at each other. Then a murmur of uneasiness rose among them. They had expected to find the enemy on the Syrian plains, and behold, he was in their rear.

"Parmenio," Alexander said, "what is your mind?"

"We must fight," the old general replied, carefully and slowly. "The Persians are between us and our homes. They can enslave the Greek cities of the coast that we have set free. But they are so many that they cannot wait. Hunger will force them to attack us on our own ground. Let us wait until that time comes and then give them battle."

His words caused a brief stir of approval, but the great mass of men remained silent.

"What is your advice, Ptolemy, son of Lagus?" Alexander demanded.

"It is true that Darius is in our rear," Ptolemy responded, "but it is also true that we are between him and his empire, that we have come to conquer. Let us march upon Babylon and take the city. The road lies open before us."

A shout arose and a clashing of swords upon shields. It was evident that Ptolemy's rashness found more favor than Parmenio's caution.

One after another the generals and captains gave their opinions, some agreeing with the older leader and some with the younger. When all had spoken Alexander seemed to meditate for a moment.

"O men of Hellas!" he cried, raising his head and looking into their eyes, "we came to avenge the ancient wrongs that these barbarians inflicted upon our fathers. Remember Darius, son of Hystaspes; how he brought his ships to your coasts and was defeated at Marathon. Remember Xerxes and the victory of Salamis. Never in the memory of man have we been free from Persian attack; and when they no longer dared to face us, they have sent their gold to corrupt our leaders and turn us one against the other. For these insults and injuries, their empire is forfeit; for the Gods have grown weary of their treachery.

"What has happened when we met them, sword in hand? In the long list of their attacks upon us, they have had nothing but defeat. Did not the Ten Thousand march to the very gates of Babylon?

"I say to you that the Gods have wearied of the barbarian. We were marching to meet Darius upon the plain, where the vast number of his army might have encompassed us. We were willing to allow him to choose his own ground, but the Gods would not have it so. They have blinded his eyes and led him to us almost as a sacrifice. Nothing remains but to strike the blow.

"O men of Macedon, my friends and companions, liberators of Greece, the hour of our triumph is near. At the Granicus we overthrew the army of a viceroy; now we are to meet the army of the Great King himself.

"It is Persia that awaits our onset at Issus. There have the Gods assembled the might and power of the empire and it stands like corn ripe for the reaper. The sheaves of this harvest shall be of gold that the barbarians have gathered for us as bees gather honey.

"Heroes of Hellas! from your iron hands none can wrest victory unless you will it! For yourselves and your children you are about to win fame that shall endure through the ages. I have never led you to defeat, and now I promise you the victory!"

Dead silence reigned while Alexander artfully made his appeal to the immemorial hatred of Persia, pointed out the advantage that Darius had given them, and raised the hope of fame and spoil. As he finished, a cry rent the air that showed he knew his men.

"Alexander! Alexander!" they shouted. "Lead us!"

With swelling hearts, the generals and captains pressed forward to grasp his hand and swear to lay down their lives for him. He greeted them each by name, reminding them of their bravest deeds and making each man feel that the result of the battle might depend upon him alone. The council broke up, spreading its enthusiasm through the camp. On all sides the soldiers fell to polishing their weapons and boasting of what they would do when they faced the army of Darius.

That day was devoted to preparation. Alexander had sent a scouting party of picked men to sail up the coast and learn the disposition of the enemy's force. This expedition returned at nightfall and reported that the wounded and invalid soldiers who had been left in Issus had been cruelly slain by order of Darius and their bodies impaled along the shore. Rage filled the army at this news and hardened the resolve of the men to die rather than forego their victory and revenge.

The trumpets sounded at the first flush of dawn, and by sunrise the army was flowing back through the Syrian Gates to the field where the fate of the world was to be decided.

CHAPTER XXXII
THE WORLD AT STAKE

With the sea on their left and the mountain cliffs on their right, Clearchus and Nathan rode on either side of Chares in the front rank of the squadron of Companion cavalry commanded by Leonidas. The crisp November air and the excitement of the coming battle made their blood tingle and raised their spirits to a pitch of reckless gayety. The Spartan rode in advance, without turning his head or moving a muscle under the fire of jokes that Chares directed at him.

Presently the cliffs ended and the mountain barrier curved away inland, leaving a plain of greensward and shingle, flooded with sunlight.

"There they are!" Clearchus cried eagerly.

Straight before them, perhaps three miles away, they saw a confused mass of gleaming banners and the glint of countless spears. The shallow Pinarus, flowing down from the mountains, rippled across the level, and on its further bank, where the ground was high, the Great King had taken his stand. For a mile and a half, from the hills to the sea, the plain was blocked by a living rampart, gay with the pomp of Oriental splendor.

As the squadrons of Macedonian cavalry emerged from the pass, they wheeled to the right and formed their line close to the lower slopes of the mountain.

"Here come the men of Thessaly," Chares cried.

Their plumes fluttering in the breeze, the Thessalian horse poured out of the pass and ranged themselves behind the Companions.

Then the phalanx appeared, marching rank after rank, with the precision of a machine. The lancers under Protomachus and Aristo's Pæonians, who had been thrown forward in advance of the cavalry, raised a shout as the scarred veterans, each holding his long sarissa erect and bearing his heavy shield across his shoulder, followed the proud Agema.

While the phalanx was forming on the left of the cavalry there was a movement among the Persians.

"They are coming!" Chares shouted.

Clearchus and Nathan saw a large body of horse and foot advance across the river. Although in numbers they exceeded the entire Macedonian army, their departure from the main body of the Persians seemed to make no diminution in its size. They halted as soon as they had crossed the stream and from the host beyond came the bray of trumpets and the hoarse murmur of many voices.

"They are taking their positions," Nathan said. "They will not attack."

His conjecture proved correct, for in half an hour the troops that had advanced fell back again across the river through openings that had been left for them in the wings of the main force, and the glittering front of the Persian army was revealed, drawn up in battle array.

The Macedonians had continued to advance slowly across the plain, forming as they went, so that only half a mile now separated them from the Persians. Nathan's eyes sought the centre of the enemy's line.

"There he is!" he exclaimed, pointing with his finger.

Clearchus followed the direction he indicated and saw a blotch of variegated color, above which fluttered many standards.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Darius," Nathan replied. "You can see his Medean robe of purple – there, just beneath that golden banner."

"What troop is that about him?" inquired Chares.

"They are the princes and the nobles of the court," the Israelite answered. "Oxathres, the Great King's brother commands them."

"I wonder whether Phradates is there!" Clearchus said.

"I hope so!" Chares exclaimed, in a voice that came from his heart.

"There, in front of Darius, are his Greek mercenaries," Nathan continued. "Leonidas told the truth when he said there were thirty thousand of them. Those heavy-armed troops on each side of the centre are the Cardaces. And, look, there is the cavalry, there on the beach. That is the flower of the Persian army. Nabazarnes leads it."

"We met some of those blossoms at the Granicus," Chares remarked. "It did not take them long to wither; but there is a whole garden of them yonder, and our line seems rather slender compared with theirs."

The Persian horse was massed on the smooth, hard beach in an enormous wedge which looked as though it might be able, by weight alone, to scatter the squadrons of Greek cavalry under Parmenio which were opposing it on the left wing of the Macedonian army. Evidently this discrepancy had struck the attention of Alexander, for, while Chares spoke, the Thessalians quietly left their places in the line and trotted around behind the phalanx to reënforce the allies.

"There goes the sickle that will reap the roses of Darius," Chares said, gazing after them longingly. "Phœbus! I wish I were with them!"

"You will find plenty to do here," Clearchus said. "There are a few men over there on the hill who will have to be cared for."

He pointed to the slope on the right, where some twenty thousand of the Cardaces were drawn up, far in advance of the Persian line, near the foot of the mountain.

"They intend to try our flank when we advance," the Theban observed. "I didn't know the Persians had so much sense."

"They are going to get a little exercise first," Clearchus said as the flare of trumpets sounded down the line.

Immediately a body of light-armed foot-soldiers and cavalry detached itself from the right wing and advanced up the hill toward the Cardaces. The eyes of both armies were upon them and a cheer ran along the Macedonian ranks, from the hillside to the sea.

The Cardaces wavered slightly. They had evidently not expected so prompt an attack. The leaders of the Macedonian force could be seen riding or running in advance of the various divisions, and the men followed as steadily as though the charge were merely an exercise drill. They paused to send a flight of arrows and stones among the Cardaces, who, being armed only with lances and swords, had no means of replying. To charge down the hill meant that they would be annihilated by the Macedonian army. To remain where they were was to be slain piecemeal by the darts and arrows. They began to retire slowly upward out of the zone of fire.

Their retreat was greeted from the Macedonian lines by a roar that sounded like the booming of the surf upon the rocks. The peltasts and archers continued to press them until they had been forced into a position where they were no longer a menace to the rear of the army. The light-armed troops were then recalled, leaving two squadrons of Companions, containing about three hundred men, to hold the twenty thousand in check if they should attempt a charge. They performed the task imposed upon them. Nothing more was heard of the isolated Cardaces that day.

As the detachment returned down the hill and resumed its place in the ranks, the commotion in the long, thin line that stretched away to the sea gradually ceased. The soldiers stood motionless behind their captains.

Alexander, riding Bucephalus, gave his final commands to Parmenio on the beach where the Thessalians waited with the allied cavalry to meet the attack of the Persian horse. Then he turned and came slowly up along the line, drawing rein here and there to speak a word of confidence and encouragement. His double white plume floated over his shoulders, and the sunlight flashed upon his coat of mail.

When he reached the right wing he addressed the Companions with his familiar smile.

"Do not forget," he said, "that a part of your accustomed duty is to set an example to the rest. I shall lead the Agema. Keep near me, for I may need you. Whether we win or lose, let it be with glory."

He turned his face toward the Persians and scanned with care the dense masses of troops who stood waiting beyond the Pinarus, in lines so deep that he could not see their rear. His eyes lingered upon the centre, where Darius, his rival for the mastery of the world, was standing. On the left of the Great King, the course of the stream bent backward, and the formation of the Persian army followed its course. The left of the Greek mercenaries, upon whom Darius relied to win the battle, rested in this elbow of the river.

"There is the vital spot," Alexander said. "If we can gain a foothold on that bank, have no fear of what may happen elsewhere. It will be easier than it was at the Granicus."

"The cavalry is coming," said Clitus, pointing toward the beach.

Alexander turned and saw the gayly caparisoned squadrons of the Persian right dashing into the river. The foam splashed about the knees of the horses and a forest of lances waved and tossed in the air.

"There is work for Parmenio," the young king remarked as the head of the column gained the shore.

He glanced once more along the Persian front, but the movement on the beach did not extend to the main force. It was clear that Darius intended to compel him to begin the infantry battle.

Alexander cantered down to the right of the phalanx, where he dismounted and placed himself at the head of the Agema. On the beach the Thessalians met the shock of the tremendous body of cavalry that had been launched against them. The impact bore them back, but even that rushing avalanche of horses and men could not break them. It dashed against their wall of steel, recoiled, and rolled on again, in successive waves, continually strengthened from the rear as fresh squadrons crossed the stream.

The Macedonian line quivered with eagerness. A page darted from Alexander's side along the front of the phalanx and spoke a word to Ptolemy, son of Lagus. Another sped to the Companions.

"Advance," he cried, "and charge when the king leads! This is the order!"

"Here we go!" cried Chares, clapping Nathan on the back with a blow that nearly hurled him from his horse. "Stick to Leonidas! He will find the best of the fighting for us, or we will drown him in the river!"

"The phalanx is moving!" Clearchus cried with shining eyes.

A dull throbbing beat through the air and the heavy centre started slowly forward, each man touching the arm of his neighbor and keeping step in parade order. The cadence of voices began to mingle with the drum beat and the wild music of the trumpets.

As they advanced, Clearchus gazed eagerly at the Persian line, every nerve stretched to the point of physical pain. He saw in the centre the ranks of the Greek mercenaries, ten times as deep as those of the phalanx, standing grim and motionless, in strange contrast with the restless flutter of the heterogeneous masses that surrounded them on three sides. He blushed to think that, when Persia stood at bay, Greeks could be found to range themselves with her against their own country. The thought passed through his mind that Alexander was right after all, and that Demosthenes and those who aided him to fan the flame of hostility to Macedon at home were really acting the part of traitors, not only to Athens, but to all Greece.

He turned his eyes to Alexander, whose plumes shone in the front rank of the Agema. This had now almost reached the Pinarus. Suddenly from the phalanx rose the deep-toned pæan, summoning the Gods of Hellas to protect their own. The mighty chant drowned the throbbing of the drums and the uproar of the battle on the beach. As it rose and swelled, it filled the plain and rolled back in echoes from the mountain sides. There was something in it stern and inflexible, that thrilled Clearchus' heart and lifted him to the plane of self-forgetfulness.

The Agema reached the river. The pæan gave way to a wild shout as the slow advance of the phalanx changed to a rush, and the Macedonian line dashed into the rain of javelins, darts, and arrows that was poured upon it from the Persian side of the stream.