"That is much to ask of a general," Alexander said, affecting hesitation. "I would rather you had demanded his weight in gold; but which one?"

"Here he is," said Artemisia, blushing still more deeply and laying her hand in that of the Athenian.

"I suppose I must give him to thee," the young king said. "Let the chief priest of Melkarth be summoned."

"I will fetch him myself," Clearchus cried, leaping from his couch, and he hurriedly left the hall amid the approving laughter of the company.

The priest was found, the marriage contract drawn and signed, and while Alexander joined their hands, the words were spoken that made Clearchus and Artemisia one. The captains rose to their feet, each with a brimming goblet, and they drank the health of the bride with a cheer such as they had not given since they charged the squadrons of Darius.

With heart-felt freedom they showered good wishes upon their comrade, and loud were their protests when Alexander broke up the feast to return to the royal palace.

Leonidas remained, with a few men of his troop, to guard the house, and he and Chares sat for hours with a flagon of wine between them, talking of all that had passed since the day when they rode at dawn into Athens in search of Clearchus.

In the lofty chamber where Artemisia and Thais had spent so many weary days waiting for the coming of deliverance, Artemisia stood with Clearchus at the window that looked toward the Macedonian camp. The cloud-wrack had vanished, and the sky was thickly sown with great stars that seemed to look down upon them with friendly gaze. The young man's arm clasped his bride warm and close, and her dear head rested against his breast. He kissed the soft coils of her hair; but she lifted her lips to his, and he saw that her blue eyes were swimming with tears of happiness.

Leonidas, who had gone about his duties long before his friends were stirring next morning, returned at midday and placed in Artemisia's hands a mysterious package.

"This is Moloch's gift," he said.

When Artemisia opened it, out poured a magnificent double necklace of rubies, so large and pure that she could not help kissing him, at which the Spartan blushed like a boy.

"I found them under the idol," he said. "For once, the chancellor told the truth."

CHAPTER LXIX

CHARES FINDS REST

Again Alexander and Darius stood face to face, this time upon the plain of Nineveh at Gaugamela, the Camel's House, beyond the swift Tigris.

Chares and Leonidas felt the chill of autumn in the air as they strolled out upon the earthen ramparts that sheltered the Macedonian camp. The wide plain below them, where they knew the Persian host was assembled, was shrouded in mist.

Both were silent, and both were thinking of Clearchus, whom they had left behind in Egypt, in the new city that Alexander had founded at the mouth of the Nile, giving it his own name. There he was building the house that was to shelter him and Artemisia amid its gardens, within sight and sound of the sea; for when he learned of the wreck of his fortune, he had no desire to return to Athens.

"We shall soon know who is master," the Spartan said, gazing toward the mist-wrapped plain.

Chares followed his look indifferently, yawned, and stretched his arms.

"I believe I would rather go back to sleep than fight," he said. "I don't know what has come over me."

Leonidas shot him a quick glance, and it seemed to him that the Theban's face had aged and grown grave over night.

"I wonder what Clearchus and Artemisia and little Chares are doing,"

Chares went on. "I would like to see them again. May the Gods give them happiness!"

"Yes, and I shall be happy too when you have built your palace beside them," Leonidas replied. "It will have to be a palace, for Thais will be satisfied with nothing less."

Chares smiled a little sadly and shook his head.

"That is not for me," he said. "I shall never have a home and children of my own."

"Nonsense!" the Spartan replied decisively. "What is to become of Thais, then?"

"I know not," Chares said reflectively. "Watch over her, Leonidas, if I am not there to do it. She loves me."

"You talk like a sick man," Leonidas exclaimed, "yet you were never better. What is the matter with you?"

"Who can speak of to-morrow?" Chares replied. "You know, Leonidas, that I am not afraid, and yet somehow I care not. You and Clearchus I must leave sometime, and whenever that time comes, it will be a regret to me; and Thais, of course, will grieve; but she will recover. She is not like Artemisia. I think something is lacking in me. I have taken pleasure in life, but I am tired of everything. My city exists no more. Perhaps I am being punished for taking service under the man who destroyed it. I do not know--or care. Let be what will be."

"When you hear the trumpet, you will forget all this folly," Leonidas said impatiently. "You are young and you have everything to live for.

That palace will be built yet; and when our heads are gray, we shall be sitting there, telling each other of this battle. See, they are waiting for us. They have been there all night."

The mist was lifting in undulating billows and twisted scarfs of vapor, floating away into the upper air. Before them was mustered the might of the greatest empire the world had ever seen. Away to the left and right spread the army of the Great King, a wilderness of bright plumes and glittering helmets. The spear-points, emerging from the mist, caught the rays of the sun like diamonds. Rank on rank they stood, so deep that the young men could not distinguish where the files ceased.

Far on their right was the Bactrian cavalry and the Persian horse under the cruel viceroy Bessus, who had unwittingly saved Chares and Clearchus from the Babylonian mob. They could make out the banners of the Susians, the Albanians, the Hyrcanians, the fierce Parthians, the Syrians, the Arachotians, the Cadusians, the Babylonian levies, the haughty Medes, the dusky squadrons from beyond the Indus, the warriors from the shores of the Red Sea, the Mesopotamians, the Armenians, the Cappadocians, and the mongrel tribes of mixed blood. From the flaunting banners they could read the muster-roll of the nations that bowed to the will of Darius.

In advance of the first rank stood a line of huge, swaying brown bulks.

They were the royal elephants, stationed there to drive a pathway through the Macedonian army for the Great King. Leonidas wondered at their number and size. On both sides of them stretched rows of chariots, with axles and neaps that terminated in long, curved scythe-blades. Behind the elephants was the royal squadron of ten thousand picked riders, and in its rear Darius had stationed himself, surrounded by his kinsmen, and protected on either side by bodies of Greek mercenaries. All the plain in front of the vast array had been made as level as a floor, so that the chariots might find no obstacle in their advance.

"This will be the last battle," Chares said indifferently. "If we win here, the empire is ours."

"We shall win!" Leonidas exclaimed.

"I'm not so sure of that," Chares said, measuring the host of the enemy with his eye. "There are more of them than there were at Issus, and here they have room to move."

A trumpet sent its bold notes from the Macedonian camp. The call was taken up by others, rose, and died away. Presently the first squadron of the phalanx wheeled out upon the plain, and began marching slowly and in silence down the gentle slope toward the Persian van.

"We must get into our armor," Chares said, and the two friends hastened down from the rampart.

The camp was swarming like a great beehive. Rough shouts of greeting, jests, and salutations were heard on every side as the soldiers hurried to join their commands. The army was in high spirits at the prospect of a decisive grapple, but the heaviness that oppressed Chares' mind refused to yield to the general enthusiasm. He made his way through the crowds to the purple pavilion set apart for Sisygambis, the mother of Darius, and his children. The beautiful Statira was no longer there. She had died in her captivity.

"I wish to speak with Thais," Chares said to the eunuch who guarded the door.

He was admitted to an anteroom of the tent while a slave carried his message. Thais answered the summons quickly. A proud smile parted her lips when she saw the powerful form of the Theban, clad in resplendent armor; but it vanished when she looked into his face.

He took her hands and bent down to kiss her, while the plumes of his helmet fell about their heads.

"I have but a moment," he said. "Farewell, Thais; you have loved me better than I deserved."

"Chares!" she exclaimed, with a sinking of the heart that caused her voice to flutter. "Why do you speak to me like this? I have loved you and I do love you with all my heart--with all my heart! Never have I loved another, and I never shall. Without you I should die!"

She stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck. "You are all I have!" she cried, with a sob.

"Thais," he said, holding her close, "if I come not back to you, promise me that you will accept what the Gods send. They are wiser than we."

To Thais it seemed as though the world was slipping away from her. He had gone to battle before, and she well knew its chances; but he was so brave and strong that she had never really feared for him and for herself. What would become of her without him? She remembered what she had been before she knew him. The future would be worse than a void. The thought of it stabbed her heart like a knife.

"If you come not back!" she cried, clinging to him with all her strength. "But you will come back, Chares--tell me that you will!

Tell me that you will come back for my sake. I cannot let you go!"