CHAPTER XIII
THE UNQUENCHABLE FIRE
It was a clear, bright spring day when the three friends rode intoPella. The new sap was beginning to swell the buds, and the freshgreen of the grass was gleaming hopefully on sunny slopes. Chares hadbeen singing snatches of love songs since early morning when they setout on the last stage of their journey. Even Clearchus forgot hisanxiety in the thought that he was drawing nearer to Artemisia, and thegrim Leonidas had smiled more than once at the sallies of thelight-hearted Theban.
In the Macedonian capital on every side was the stir of animation andpreparation. Recruits were being drilled for the army. Messengerswere hastening hither and thither. Ambassadors were coming and goingwith their trains. They gazed with admiration at the solid buildings,designed with a stately magnificence which, in its own way, was asimpressive as the marble embodiments of Athenian genius. Everywherewere the evidences of a young and strong people, buoyant,self-confident, energetic, and fearless. No idlers blocked thestreets. Every man had something to do and was doing it. The tide ofvigorous life flowed strong through the city as in the veins of a youngoak tree.
It was not strange that Pella should have swarmed with activity on thatday in spring. Within the boundaries of the rugged little state, halfHellenic and half barbarian, a vast project, supported by a sublimeconfidence, was taking shape. It had been formed and nursed by thecrafty and far-seeing Philip, whether as a possibility or as a strokeof policy to bring Hellas under his control none could say. Now it hadsuddenly become a reality. The great empire of Persia, which coveredthe world from the shores of the Euxine to the sources of the Nile, andfrom the AEgean to limits undefined, beyond the regions of mysterythrough which the Indus flowed, was to be invaded. It had endured forcenturies as an immense and impregnable power. Fierce tribes dwelt inthe fastnesses of its snow-clad mountains, numberless caravans creptacross its scorching deserts, gigantic cities flourished upon itsfertile plains. Nations were lost among the uncounted millions of itspopulation. Its wealth surpassed the power of imagining, and about thethrone of the Great King, whose slightest wish was the unchangeable lawof all this vast dominion, stood tens of thousands of the bravestwarriors in the world, ready at a sign to lay down their lives for him.
What had Persia to fear from the handful of peasants turned soldierswho had made a boy their king? Why should Darius feel any uneasinessconcerning the projects of a rash young man who already owed more thanhe could pay? To be sure, he had made himself the Hegemon of Hellas,with the exception of Sparta, but everybody knew that he had forced theolder states to bestow the title upon him against their will and thatthey were waiting only until his back should be turned to fall uponhim. With the slender resources at his command, how could he hope tohold Greece in subjection and at the same time to subdue an empirewhich had more Hellenic mercenaries alone upon its pay-roll than thesum total of his entire army? Surely, the Great King must be himselfdespised if he did not look with contempt upon such mad ambition.
Something of the force of this reasoning assailed the mind of Clearchusas he lay down that night on the hard pallet that had been assigned tohim by Ptolemy in the barracks of the Companion Cavalry. The immensityof the obstacles to be overcome oppressed him, and he began once moreto doubt whether, after all, there could be any hope of success for theyoung king. He fell asleep, to see in his dreams the pale face ofArtemisia framed in her unbound hair.
His mind was still clouded with misgiving when he went next morningwith Chares and Leonidas to pay his respects at the palace; but theywere dispelled like mists before the morning sun when he stood face toface with Alexander. In the inspiring presence of the young leader nodoubts could live. He radiated confidence as a fire radiates warmth.Every glance of his sympathetic eyes, every tone of his voice, revealeda certainty of the future that was beyond peradventure.
The palace was the centre of the activity that was filling the city.Generals and captains, agents, princes, hostages, ambassadors, andmessengers swarmed in its halls. Here stood the gray-haired Antipater,who had been appointed by Alexander regent of Macedon and guardian ofGreece during his absence, talking with citizens of Corinth who hadcome to consult him concerning proposed changes in their civilgovernment. There was old Parmenio, fresh from his campaign in Mysia,giving his orders for the disposition of a company of mercenaries whohad arrived that morning.
There were travellers from the Far East, who had been summoned to tellwhat they knew of the cities, rivers, and mountains through which theMacedonian march would lie and of the character of the peoples who wereto be encountered. There were contractors for horses and suppliesanxious to provide the army with subsistence. There were soothsayersand philosophers, slaves, attendants, and courtiers; and among themall, with banter, jest, and laughter, walked the young nobles ofMacedon, bosom friends of the king, who had defied Philip for his sakeand were now reaping their reward. There were Hephaestion, son ofAmyntas, Philotas, son of Parmenio, Clitus, Crateras, Polysperchon,Demetrius, Ptolemy, and a score of others, in spirits as brave as theirattire, as though they were about to start upon a holiday excursioninstead of a desperate venture into the unknown.
Alexander recognized the three friends immediately and gave themcordial greeting.
"So you have come to follow the Whirlwind," he said, laughing, asthough the simile pleased him. "It will soon be launched now."
"We have come to take any service that you may give us," Chares replied.
"You are enrolled in the Companion Cavalry," Alexander informed them.
They gave him their thanks for this mark of favor, for the Companionscontained the flower of the kingdom, young men of distinguishedfamilies, who were admitted freely into Alexander's confidence as hisfriends.
"I have just been giving away the security for my debts," Alexandersaid, smiling at Chares. "I saw you spend your last obol to purchasethe liberty of your friends at Thebes. You trusted to the chance ofwar to bring your fortune back to you, but I have gone further thanyou, for I have staked my honor. As you see me, I am worth somethirteen hundred talents less than nothing."
"But what have you left for yourself?" the Theban asked.
"My hopes," Alexander replied.
"They say the Medes have gold in plenty," Leonidas observedreflectively.
"Never fear," Alexander replied, laughing. "What are our debts ofto-day in comparison with our riches of to-morrow? The Companions areall following my example. We set out with only our swords and ourcourage--and our golden hope!"
Again he laughed, and calling Philotas to him he turned to Clearchus.
"The queen, my mother," he said, "has heard the story of Artemisia andof what they told you at Delphi. She desires to see you. Philotaswill take you to her."
Philotas led the way through courts and colonnades to the women's wingof the palace, where Olympias held sway. As they went, Clearchusrecalled all he had heard of Alexander's mother--how it was averredthat a great serpent was her familiar, and the tales of her passionateand revengeful nature that had caused her to order the babe ofCleopatra, who had supplanted her in the affections of her husband, tobe torn from the arms of its mother and killed in her sight before sheherself was slain. He had heard also of her devotion to religiousmysteries and especially of her skill in the secret rites of theEgyptian magicians.
As they neared the queen's apartments, Clearchus was astonished to heara woman's voice raised in anger, followed by the sound of blows andpitiful cries for mercy. He paused in embarrassment, but Philotas drewhim on.
"Do not be disturbed," said his guide; "the queen is probablychastising one of her slaves."
He ushered the young Athenian into a large room furnished withluxurious magnificence. Before them stood Olympias, with a rod ofebony in her grasp, and at her feet upon the silken carpet crouched aweeping girl with bare white shoulders, marked with red where the rodhad fallen. The queen turned upon them with blazing anger in her greatblack eyes and the wrathful color on
her cheeks.
"Who enters here unbidden?" she demanded sternly, and then in a mildertone she added: "Is it you, Philotas? These girls will kill me yetwith their stupidity. I wish I could drown them all in the sea! Ah!"
She swung up the rod and brought it down upon a great vase ofPh[oe]nician glass, which flew into a thousand fragments. She laughedand threw the rod from her.
"There, now I feel better!" she exclaimed, drawing a long breath. "Youmay go, Chloe. Dry your eyes, child; you shall have your freedom. Whois this whom you have brought me, Philotas?"
"It is Clearchus, the Athenian, whom the king sends," Philotas answered.
"I remember," she said quickly, turning to Clearchus. "You were robbedof your sweetheart. Do you love her very much?"
"I love her better than my life," Clearchus replied simply.
"Will you never grow weary of her and cast her off, as Philip did me?"she persisted.
"If I find her, I will never willingly let her go out of my sightagain," the young man declared.
"But did not the Pythia tell you that you would find her if youfollowed my son?" she inquired.
"The oracle instructed me to follow the Whirlwind," Clearchus said,
"Tell me about it," Olympias commanded, seating herself upon a couch.She made him relate his experience with the oracle in the minutestdetail, asking many questions that indicated her lively curiosity. Shethen inquired of Artemisia's personal appearance, her age, and family.
"Wait here for me," she said finally, and left them alone in the room.
"She seems hardly older than Alexander," Clearchus remarked.
"Appearances are sometimes deceitful," Philotas replied dryly,"especially when they are assisted by art."
The queen was absent for more than half an hour. She seemed tired whenshe returned.
"I have consulted the Gods," she said, "and you will find her if yourheart remains true and strong. The priestess of Apollo told the truth."
"I thank you for giving me this consolation," Clearchus said eagerly,hoping that she would tell him more; but she began pacing thoughtfullybackward and forward, with bent head, apparently forgetful of hispresence.
Suddenly she stopped before him and smiled, rather wistfully hethought. He almost fancied that there were tears under the fringe ofher dark lashes. "Farewell," she said. "May the Gods protect you--andAlexander, my son."
She resumed her walk, and the young man left the apartment in silence.Clearchus tried in vain to analyze the strange impression that she hadmade upon him, but for many days her smile, half sad, and hermysterious dark eyes, with the living spark in their depths, continuedto haunt him.