Work on the causeway was indeed halted for a time, but only long enough to permit the Macedonians to contrive means of defence. Two great towers were built and pushed out to the end of the mole. These were tall enough to dominate the wall. They were provided with catapults and ballistae, with which to answer and silence those of the Tyrians, and were manned by soldiers, who from their height were able to reach the decks of the triremes that were sent to annoy them. For further protection, palisades of timber and movable breastworks were constructed on the mole, and pushed forward as it advanced.

Work was resumed, and the long causeway crept nearer and nearer to the city. By order of the council, under cover of night, sponge and pearl divers were sent to the mole in small vessels. With cords in their hands they plunged into the water and fastened them to the foundation stones of the mole, which the crews on board the boats pulled away.

But in spite of all these devices, the mole continued to lengthen.

Still the Tyrians remained confident. The council hit upon a plan to destroy the towers, and when all was ready the people flocked to the walls to witness its execution. Artemisia and Thais watched from the roof, where, day after day, for weeks, they had counted the inches of progress made on the mole and calculated how long it would be before the structure could reach the wall.

"See!" cried Artemisia. "They are going to try to burn the towers."

An old transport, that had been used for carrying horses, emerged clumsily from the Sidonian Harbor, towed between two triremes. The wide deck was heaped with dry wood, which had been saturated with bitumen and intermixed with straw. From the yards of the masts caldrons filled with sulphur, naphtha, and oil were suspended by chains. Upon the deck stood rows of naked men, each holding in his hand a blazing torch.

Slowly and laboriously the ship was guided through the choppy sea to a point directly to windward of the end of the mole. A strong northwest breeze sang through her rigging, and her stern had been filled with ballast until her bow stood almost out of the water. Sailors went aloft and set two small sails to give her headway. The triremes cast off, and she swam straight for the northern tower.

The two women had watched the preparations with the most intense excitement. As the fire-ship neared the mole, gathering speed as she went, they saw a volley of huge stones shoot from the towers in her direction.

"They are trying to sink her," Thais said breathlessly.

"Zeus grant that they may succeed!" cried Artemisia.

Some of the stones struck the ship, scattering her load of combustibles; but they failed to check her approach. The best marksmen in the army strove to pick off her crew. The divers raised shields, from which the arrows harmlessly rebounded.

When the ship had come within a few fathoms of the mole, the men on board of her scattered blazing oil into the caldrons swinging from her yards and thrust their torches into the heaps of material that lay upon her deck. Then they plunged into the sea and swam back to the city.

The steersman followed, and the next instant the transport, sending before her a roaring banner of flame, ran high upon the mole at the foot of the northern tower.

A mighty shout arose from the walls of Tyre as the spectators saw the flames wrap themselves around the tower, shrivelling up the green skins of cattle that had been hung to protect it. The soldiers swarmed down through the smoke and fire like rats, leaping from the lower stories in their haste. In a moment the lofty structure was sending out red tongues from every loophole and window. A great cloud of black smoke rolled from the end of the mole toward the shore.

Thais and Artemisia saw the Greeks driven back from the towers and from the defences which had protected the work. Presently the fire attacked these and ran across to the second tower. The transport still lay with her nose in the rocks, belching flames that were streaked with green and blue and white as they fed upon the various substances which had been stored in her hull.

Dashing down from the windward side, the Tyrian vessels tore away such of the work as had escaped the conflagration, while the bowmen on their decks sent flights of arrows upon the huddled workmen who had been forced back by the heat and smoke. The towers fell one after the other with a crash into the sea, which hissed into steam as the glowing timbers sank. In an hour nothing was left at the end of the causeway but the blackened ruin and part of the transport, through whose ribs the waves washed.

"The time is at hand," Phradates said to Thais, with a smile full of meaning.

"Not yet," she exclaimed, smiling. "The siege has only begun. I told you you did not know Alexander."

Nevertheless, secretly her heart was full of misgivings, and the slave women who waited upon her that night found her hard to please.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE JEST OF KING AZEMILCUS

Tyre was delirious with joy over the success of the attack on the towers, for the city was convinced that now, at last, the Macedonians would depart. Feasts were given in the great houses, processions wound through the streets, and sacrifices of thanksgiving were offered in all the temples. In order to strike terror into the hearts of the enemy, twenty Macedonian prisoners were put to death upon the walls with lingering tortures, and their mangled bodies were cast into the sea.

Hourly the Tyrians expected to see the besieging army evacuate Old Tyre and march away.

Their rage knew no bounds when a boat bearing two heralds put out from the shore and entered the Sidonian Harbor. The young men whom it contained, Galas and Cleanor, pages of Alexander and members of distinguished Macedonian families, were greeted with jeers by the people. They were escorted by a strong guard to the royal palace, where King Azemilcus and the council awaited them.

They bore themselves calmly and proudly under the insults of the mob and the hostile scrutiny of the council. They met without fear the gaze of the Tyrian king, who sat upon his throne in the chamber of state. The light fell upon the old man's cunning and wrinkled face and touched the heads of the councillors, some silvery white and others showing hardly a trace of gray. Their eyes, in which cruelty lurked like a coiled snake, were fixed upon the heralds. The king opened his thin lips.

"Speak!" he said softly.

"Alexander, lord of Asia, sends his greeting to King Azemilcus and the people of Tyre," Galas began in a clear voice. "He calls upon you to surrender your city into his hands."

A murmur rose like a growl from the council. King Azemilcus stroked his chin gently with his jewelled fingers, as if to hide the smile that played about his mouth.

"If ye do not this," Galas continued, raising his head, "Alexander, lord of Asia, bids me say that for thy walls, they shall become as the walls of Thebes, thy city shall be given to plunder, and the sea-gull shall build his nest in thy harbors. If ye would find mercy for your wives and your children, for yourselves and your possessions, ye must seek it now."

He ceased and stood awaiting their answer. There was dead silence in the chamber. Azemilcus continued to stroke his chin, glancing at the youths and then at his advisers with an amused expression in his eyes.

"You may retire," he said at last, "while we consider what reply we shall send."

The youths were conducted to an anteroom, while the lean king laid before the council the jest that he had been revolving in his mind. It was received with approbation, and the reply to Alexander was written upon parchment in two copies, one for each of the heralds. When all was in readiness the council rose.

"Come with us," Azemilcus said to the heralds. "We desire to show you our city before we send you back to Alexander."

Talking pleasantly, he led the way through the citadel to the top of the wall, pointing out the temples and the various objects of interest as they went. The boys looked down with wonder from the dizzy height upon the sea, crawling and lapping far below them. They examined the engines of war and the piles of ammunition that had been assembled upon the landward side of the defences. Upon the mainland they could see their comrades and the gangs of laborers at work upon the mole.

They scarcely noticed that soldiers and citizens were gathering about them, occupying every point of vantage and pressing forward with nods and winks as if to a spectacle where a humorous surprise was in store.

"And now," Azemilcus said, smiling pleasantly upon the two heralds, "you shall hear our answer to the king."

He beckoned to a scribe, who stepped forward and read from a parchment so that all might hear.

"King Azemilcus and the people of Tyre greet Alexander the Pretender,"

read the scribe. "If he be lord of Asia, Tyre is his. Let him come and take it."

The two boys looked blankly at the king, and a great shout of laughter went up from the multitude upon the wall. At another sign from Azemilcus, two soldiers roughly seized each of the heralds.

"What does this mean?" Galas demanded indignantly.

"Be not angry," Azemilcus replied, still with his soft smile. "We have wasted so much time in sight-seeing that no doubt Alexander is growing impatient. We will send you back to him more quickly than you came, so that his anger may be turned from us."

Amid shouts of delight from the crowd, the heralds were bound hand and foot with cords. Their knees were drawn up to their chests and lashed there so as to make their bodies as compact as possible. Finally a copy of the reply to Alexander was attached to their right hands.

"King of Tyre!" Galas said, when the soldiers had done their work, "you have broken the faith of nations. For our death, if for nothing else, shall your city fall and become an evil memory among men. Even your Gods shall withdraw from you. Farewell!"

Neither of the lads had uttered a cry as the rawhide thongs, drawn too tightly, cut into their flesh. Galas turned his head as well as he could and spoke to his younger companion.

"Cleanor, we have been friends," he said. "Now we are about to die.

Be brave for the honor of Macedon! I go with you."

"Do not fear, Galas; I promise," the other replied, and no more words passed between them.

The soldiers were busily preparing two of the immense ballistae.

Inserting levers in holes in the ends of the rollers, they turned the wooden cylinders backward, slowly winding up the rope that was attached to the casting arm and drawing it back into a horizontal position. The tough rope strained and the framework of beams creaked as the great arms were forced into place.

When the wide spoons of wrought iron were ready, the boys were lifted and placed in them. The spectators, irritated because the victims did not beg for mercy, howled threats and insults at them. This abuse brought no response, and fearful lest the courage of the lads might create a bad impression, Azemilcus ended the sport by ordering the ballistae to be discharged.