With the license that Alexander permitted, the captains raised a shout of welcome when Chares and Clearchus appeared. Before Artemisia could catch her breath, she was standing in front of Alexander, and Clearchus was presenting her to him.

"She looks like a rosebud when the dew is on it," Clitus whispered to Hephaestion.

"Don't be sentimental," the favorite answered. "When did you become a poet?"

"Not until this minute," Clitus replied.

Alexander himself was not free from embarrassment when he greeted Artemisia, for he knew nothing of women, not yet having met Roxana; but he took her hand and praised the bravery of Clearchus, at which she blushed and smiled.

Thais looked the young king frankly in the face. "We bid you welcome to Tyre," she said.

There was something in the unconquerable vitality of her gaze that reminded him of his mother, although Olympias' eyes were dark and the eyes of this girl were yellow, if any color could be assigned to them that seemed a blend of all.

"It was worth fighting for," he said, returning her look with unconcealed admiration. "But sometimes I wish I were not Alexander,"

he added, turning to Chares with a smile.

"And I thank the Gods that thou art indeed Alexander," the Theban replied, drawing Thais closer to him.

The young king seemed to fall into a momentary revery, but it passed quickly.

"You four shall be my guests to-night," he exclaimed. "Azemilcus will provide the feast."

"Do not trust him," Chares said, in a low voice. "He tried to poison us."

"If that be so, we will eat elsewhere," Alexander answered, frowning and looking askance at the Tyrian.

"If you will permit me to manage it," Thais said, "Phradates shall furnish the feast."

"Who is he?" Alexander asked.

"He was our captor here," Thais replied, "and he is a man of some good qualities, though he has others also."

"He is the messenger whom you sent from Thebes to carry word to King Azemilcus of your coming," Clearchus explained.

"I remember," Alexander said. "I would like to see him again and ask him whether he delivered the message. So be it, then."

Bidding the Companions follow, Alexander suffered Thais to lead him to the house of Phradates. It was still closed and silent, but Chares and Clearchus beat upon the door with their sword-hilts and demanded admittance in the name of Alexander. Mena, recognizing the king through the wicket, thought it best to open, since he knew that resistance would be in vain. The door swung back, and he prostrated himself at Alexander's feet.

"Welcome, O son of Philip," he said. "The house of my master and all that was his belong to the Conqueror of the Earth."

"Where is he that he does not himself receive me?" Alexander demanded.

"Alas, he is dead!" the Egyptian answered. "He received a fatal wound while fighting on the walls, and they brought him home. He died in my arms."

Mena affected to wipe tears from his eyes as he told of his master's end.

"It is a lie!" the old nurse screamed, from among the slaves clustered in the back of the hall. They tried to stifle her voice, but Alexander commanded her to come forward.

"What happened?" he asked briefly.

The old woman sank upon her knees and raised her hands in supplication.

"I was his nurse," she said, in her cracked and broken voice. "They brought him wounded to this door, and Mena--this man here--would not permit him to enter. He was not always kind to me, but I loved him; for how often when he was little have I held him in my arms! So I stole away and brought him in by another door, thinking to save him, for he was so weak from his wound. And then Mena stabbed him, and he died. Vengeance, O king; thou art strong!"

"Thou shalt have it," Alexander said sternly. "Is this true, dog?"

Mena tried to deny, but he could not speak. His face turned ashen.

"I promised this man that he should be crucified," Thais said softly.

"Then let it be done now," Alexander said.

He motioned to his guard, who seized the Egyptian and held him fast.

"Were others concerned in this?" he demanded of the nurse.

"No others, my lord," the woman replied.

"Then let them have no fear," he said. "They shall be unharmed. I give them and this house to Thais."

"Mercy! Mercy!" cried Mena, finding his voice at last. "It is all a lie!"

"Take him away," Alexander said. "I see you know how to punish," he added, turning to Thais.

"I thank the king, both for that and for his gift to me," she replied demurely. "I was sold at Thebes."

By her order the slaves conducted Alexander to the bath and waited upon the Companions who began to arrive. She caused the body of Phradates to be carried to his own chamber, where it was left in the care of the old nurse. With the aid of Artemisia, she superintended the preparations for the feast, giving especial care to the selection of the wines and to the decoration of the hall in which the tables were spread.

Masses of oak leaves from the gardens of Melkarth's temple hid the columns, and from among them shone hundreds of lamps and torches, shedding their light upon the platters of gold and trenchers of silver, interspersed with flagons of colored glass of the finest workmanship, that weighed down the tables. The couches were covered with silks of many hues and piled with yielding cushions.

Pyramids of flowers from the roofs of the houses were disposed upon the tables, and for each guest a wreath was prepared. The warm, perfume-laden air throbbed with the music of flutes breathed upon by invisible musicians.

Thais had caused soldiers to be sent to the Temple of Astoreth, where the priestesses, with many lamentations, supplied them with pheasants from the sacred flock, and these, with abundance of fish from the harbors, pastries, and sweetmeats, disguised the poverty of the larder.

Alexander was accustomed afterward to drive his cooks and stewards to despair by commanding them to provide a banquet like the one that Thais had given; for, try as hard as they might, he never could be brought to give his approval, but persisted in declaring that the feast of Thais remained unequalled.

The secret was that there never after came a time when the young king was so well satisfied with himself and his fortune, when his friends were so inspired, and when the future held so much promise. The battle of Issus had been won, and the strongest fortress in the world had been taken. The shores of the sea, from the Hellespont to the Nile, had been conquered and held. Alexander knew then that no power on earth could stand against him. He foresaw the overthrow of Darius and the spread of his own dominion to the confines of the world. Great thoughts and limitless projects were stirring in his mind. He felt himself half a God, and he wondered at his own power. There was yet no bitterness of anxiety to contaminate the pleasure of anticipation, which always in ambitious hearts so much exceeds that of realization.

The feelings that animated the young leader were shared in greater or less degree by his followers. Even Hephaestion forgot to sulk because his place on the right of the king had been given to Artemisia. Thais sat on his left, and beyond her reclined the lazy bulk of Chares. Each man looked his neighbor frankly in the face, sure of his sympathy, and all felt toward Alexander an affection and generous admiration in which there was no selfish thought.

What wonder that, in after years, when suspicion and insidious pride had poisoned the mind of the young king, and when the free-hearted soldiers there gathered together had fallen away from each other, each hoping evil to his comrade that he himself might profit thereby,--what wonder that Alexander remembered the feast of Thais as the happiest of his life? But of the sorrows that were to come none then knew or even guessed, unless it was old Aristander, to whom all paid honor because his prophecy of the fall of Tyre, that the king himself had deemed impossible, had been fulfilled. And even Aristander was cheerful that night beyond his custom, forgetting the future in the present.

So the young men rejoiced in their strength, in their hopes, and in the honest affection that warmed their hearts toward each other. The hall was filled with laughter, and their jesting left no scars. The wine expanded and stimulated their minds instead of their passions, and when Callisthenes, at Alexander's request, recited the immortal description of the fall of Troy, the majestic periods of the epic drew tears of emotion to their eyes, and every man of them became a hero.

"If I were to bid thee crave a gift at my hands, what would it be?"

Alexander asked of Artemisia.

She blushed, and her glance sought Clearchus.

"It would be one of thy soldiers, O king," she replied softly.