Leonidas had risen high in the favor of the young king, who had seen his courage tested in the winter campaign. He had become one of the Table Companions, with command of a squadron of cavalry, and even the proud young Macedonian nobles, jealous of intrusion, had ceased to look down upon him as an outsider and had taken him into their circle. Of all the stories told in the camp, none was more often repeated than that which related how the Spartan had held the light-armed troops when they were taken in ambush by the fierce mountaineers before Salagassus, until Alexander could lead the phalanx to their rescue.

But Leonidas showed no elation. On the contrary, he seemed more grim and taciturn than ever. Gladly would he have given both favor and command if he could have seen Clearchus and Chares ride into camp unharmed. Since they started for Halicarnassus, he had heard nothing of them, and it was the general opinion in the army that they were lost. The Spartan had few friends and none to take the place of these two. His grief for them was the deeper because he would not show it.

Though it gnawed at his heart like the stolen fox, he gave no sign.

One night, at table, the jest turned upon Amyntas, who had purchased gilded armor.

"You are as vain as Chares the Theban," one of the Thessalian officers said to him, laughing.

Leonidas sought the man out next day. "You have insulted my friend, who is not here. I think you are sorry for it," he said quietly.

The young captain laughed, looking down upon the Spartan from his six feet of stature.

"You think too much," he replied contemptuously.

With a bound, Leonidas caught him by the throat in a grip that was like that of a bulldog's jaws. In vain the Thessalian sought to break his hold. His face grew black and his tongue protruded.

"I think you are sorry," Leonidas repeated coolly.

The other, feeling his senses leaving him, made an affirmative motion, and the hands that gripped his throat relaxed.

"Thou shouldst speak no ill of those who cannot answer," the Spartan said, turning away and leaving the young man to recover his breath.

When this incident reached the ears of Alexander, as everything that happened in the camp was sure to do, the king smiled.

"I suppose you would serve me in the same fashion if I should be unfortunate enough to make such a jest," he said.

"The king does not mock brave men," Leonidas replied.

Alexander laid his hand on the Spartan's shoulder. "I am Alexander,"

he said, "but I envy Chares and Clearchus. I wish I had such a friend as they have."

"Thou hast many," the Spartan replied. "Wrong them not; but thou hast small need of mortal friends since the Gods are with thee."

"That is true," Alexander said simply. He knew that nine-tenths of the army believed indeed that the Gods had taken him under their protection. He seemed to them, in fact, to be himself almost like one of the immortals in the beauty of his face and form, his perfect courage, and his unerring judgment. While the graybeards at home, the philosophers and statesmen, were predicting failure for him and demonstrating by precedent and logic that his success was impossible, he had succeeded. Already he had wrested from the Great King the colonies of Greece that for centuries had groaned under Persian oppression, and while he had not yet stood face to face with the mighty power that he had attacked, he had confounded the prophets of evil and proved their wisdom to be no better than folly. When his captains looked into his face, ruddy with youth and strength, his smooth brow, unmarked by a line of care, and felt the charm of his glance, remembering what he had done, it was impossible for them to think that he was only a man like themselves.

So when it became known, after the preparations for the southward march in search of the Great King had been completed, that Alexander had determined to attempt the loosening of the knot that King Gordius had bound, there were few of his followers who doubted that he would accomplish it. For ages this knot had defied all attempts to guess its secret. The farmer, Gordius, driving his oxen into the city, found himself suddenly raised to the throne. Tradition told how he had tied the neap of his cart to the porphyry shaft in the midst of the temple and how it had been declared that whoso should unbind it should become lord of all Asia. In the reign of King Midas, his son, friend of the great God Dionysus, whose touch had changed the sands of the Pactolus to gold, many had essayed the task and had failed. In subsequent years a long line of ambitious princes and scheming kings had made the attempt, seeking to propitiate the God with rich gifts, but none had succeeded. More lately, few had tried the knot, for the Great King watched the shrine, and those who were bold enough to tempt Fortune there soon found themselves summoned to his court, where they were taught how unwise it was for the weak to aspire to the dominions of the strong.

It was knowledge of all this that led the soldiers to regard Alexander's trial of the knot as no less important than a great battle.

If the knot should yield to him, there would no longer be any doubt of what the Gods intended.

Parmenio, with the caution born of age, shook his head when the king told him of his project.

"What will you gain?" he asked. "The army already has complete confidence in you, and if you fail, some of it will be lost."

"Dost thou believe we shall conquer Darius?" Alexander demanded.

"With the aid of the Gods, I think we shall," Parmenio replied.

"And dost thou not believe in the prophecy regarding the knot?"

Alexander asked again.

Parmenio hesitated and looked confused. "It is very old," he said at last, "and we know not whence it came."

"Thy faith is weak," the young leader said severely. "Fear not; the cord shall be loosed."

Before the ancient temple the army was drawn up in long lines, archers and slingers, spearmen and cavalry, find the phalanx in companies and squadrons. Alexander, mounted on Bucephalus, rode slowly along the ranks, splendid in his armor, with the double plume of white brushing his shoulders on either side. He halted before the temple, where the robed priests stood ready to receive him. Every eye was upon him as he leaped to the ground and turned his face to the army.

"I go to test the prophecy, whether it be true or false," he cried, in a clear voice. "Wait thou my return."

Followed by his generals and by Aristander, the soothsayer, he entered the portals of the temple after the priests. They led him to the spot where the cart was fastened to the pillar. Its rude construction indicated its great age. Its wheels were sections of a tree trunk cut across. Its body was carved with strange figures of forgotten Gods and monsters, colored with pigment that time had dimmed. Its long neap was tied at the end to the shaft of stone with strips of cornel bark, brown and stiff with age and intertwined in curious folds that left no ends visible.

Alexander looked to the chief priest. "What is the prophecy?" he demanded.

The old man unrolled a parchment written over with dim characters, and read.

"To that man who shall loose the knot bound by King Gordius under direction of the high Gods," he quavered, "shall be given the realm of Asia from the southern ocean to the seas of the North. Once only may the trial be made. Thus saith the God."

Outside the temple the soldiers stood silent in their ranks awaiting the result. As the aged priest ceased reading and rolled up the parchment, Alexander drew closer to the magic knot and examined it, while the others fell back in a wide circle. Between the priests there passed a covert glance of understanding as though they said to each other, "Here is another who will fail, and more gifts will come!" The young king saw that no man could ever disentangle the convolutions of the fastening without tearing the bark. Avoiding even a pretence of attempting the impossible, he drew his sword. The astonished priests started forward with a cry of protest, but before they could interfere, the flashing blade fell and the neap of the ancient cart clattered to the stone floor.

"The knot is loosed," Alexander said quietly, sheathing his sword.

"The God greets thee, Lord of Asia!" the chief priest declared in a solemn tone, bowing his head.

Rushing out of the temple, the generals repeated Alexander's words to the army.

"The knot is loosed! The knot is loosed! We shall conquer!" ran the joyful cry through all the ranks, and the young king, listening within the temple, knew that the hour for decisive action was at hand.

CHAPTER XXV

BESSUS COMES TO BABYLON

Clearchus and Chares gazed with wonder upon the mighty walls of Babylon, raising their sheer height from the surface of the Euphrates until the soldiers who paced the lofty parapet seemed like pygmies against the sky. The little cavalcade, stained with weeks of travel, entered the city through a long archway tunnelled in the wall and flanked on either side by enormous winged lions carved in granite.

Nathan reported to the captain of the gate, who detailed a lieutenant to escort him to the palace. Chares snorted his disgust as the young man took his place at the head of the troop. His beardless face was touched with paint, and his eyebrows were darkened with pigment. His hands were white and soft. His flowing robe of blue silk swept downward on either side below his feet, which were encased in buskins with long points. He glanced superciliously at the two prisoners.

"See that they do not try to get away here in the city," he lisped to Nathan. "It might be hard to find them--there is such a dirty rabble here since the Great King himself decided to take the field."

"Have no fear," Nathan replied quietly.

"Fear?" the lieutenant laughed. "That word, as you will find, is not known here. Ride behind me and let your men surround these two dogs."

He adjusted his long robe and inhaled a breath of perfume from a flask of scent that he carried in his left hand while he gathered up his reins with the other. Chares could restrain himself no longer.

"So we are dogs, are we?" he roared, so suddenly that the lieutenant almost fell from his horse. "Has no one told you that we Greeks have to be fed? Lead on, or I will make half a meal off thy miserable carcass, though how magpie will agree with me, I know not."

"Seize him! Seize him! He talks treason!" screamed the lieutenant, scarce knowing what he said. He looked at Nathan's men, who made no move to obey, but the gleam of their white teeth as they smiled at his agitation brought him to his senses. With an air of offended dignity, he set his horse in motion, and the little troop clattered away into the city.