The king; a romance of the camp and court of Alexander the Great. The story ofTheba, the Macedonian captive

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The king:a romance of the camp and court

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Table Of Contents

CHAP. PAGE.

I. Long Live the King 1

II. An Act of Mercy 7

Chapter I Long Live The King

"Long live Alexander, King of Macedon !" It was a halting cry, one of doubt and fear, not a shout of exultation such as should proclaim a young and warlike Monarch. For the hour of Alexander the Great's accession to the throne was one of horror and dire confusion; and this not strangely, for his father, Philip, who had made the nation great, lay outstretched before the multitude, bathed in blood, stricken down by the assassin Pausanias. The vast assembly that filled the theatre where the tragedy occurred, looked on with bated breath and staring eyes, abashed and trembling ; for no one can see a man die, even if it be his allotted hour, with tranquil unconcern, and it is ever a most grewsome and terrifying spectacle to see a strong man stricken down untimely; to look into his face as he receives the unexpected stroke;

to note his distorted features, the instantaneous pallor; the look of deep surprise, of shaken pride, of sudden hate, of growing fear. Thus the thousands, gathered from every quarter of the world to do Philip honour, watched as the assassin struck him down in the fullness of life and the hour of his greatest triumph.

The deed accomplished, the wretched murderer turned and fled, but the gods no longer favouring him, he tripped and fell and ere he could regain his feet, was put to death by the pursuing soldiers; but of this no one thought, all eyes were centred on the prostrate King and Alexander, who, weeping and distraught, knelt beside the body of his father. The moment was one of fear and wild distraction, the vast multitude that a moment before waited the King's approach with eager expectancy now looked on with blanched faces and smothered cries, expectant of they knew not what. Above the roofless building, as if in contrast, the sky, flecked with summer clouds, looked down in gentle calm on the excited throng, while on every side the verdant slopes and wooded heights of the majestic mountains that encompassed the ancient capital breathed an air of peace and quietude.

The royal guard, not knowing the nature or extent of the conspiracy, hurriedly formed a cordon of glistening spears about the fallen Monarch and the young Prince, for some there were who openly

LONG LIVE THE KING 3

exulted over the King's death; and conspicuous above all others was Philip's discarded Queen, Olympias, who had planned the murder and steeled the arm of the assassin. She stood apart, calm and vengeful, looking down on the dying King, and so she had stood as he approached the theatre amid the wild acclaim of the multitude. Noting every detail, she waited some way from the steps of the throne as the warlike Monarch came on clad throughout in white, unarmed, his head encircled with a wreath. As she watched his near approach to the -great building she saw him raise his arm and wave back the protecting guard, that his person might be more clearly seen by the expectant multitude. At this unexpected and vain act she gave a cry of savage joy, and turning, fixed her eyes with fiery intentness on the waiting assassin, who stood motionless behind the protecting entrance. As Philip passed and Pausanias made no move, she signalled him with uplifted hand, crying out, "Strike, craven! Why do you wait?" At which the assassin, his face bathed with sweat, sprang forward, and drawing his Gallic sword, plunged it to the hilt in the body of the unsuspecting King. Seeing Philip fall, Olympias screamed aloud in savage exultation, so that those who heard drew away in horror and dismay. The deed accomplished, she stood watching with vengeful countenance, as the soldiers gathered about the fallen

King, listening to his half-articulate words. But presently when he had ceased to breathe, and the confusion and alarm became each moment more pronounced, she stamped her foot, and hastening to Antipater, Philip's civil governour, who stood apart, his face wet with tears, screamed in a frenzy of apprehension:

"Fool ! Dolt ! The beast being dead, why do you not proclaim Alexander King ere another claims the crown?"

Recalled to himself, and remembering the peril and uncertainty of the hour, the governour grasped the royal standard, and mounting the steps of the throne, proclaimed with choked voice, as he held the emblem aloft:

"Long live Alexander, King of Macedon !" At first those who heard paid little heed, having eyes and thoughts only for the stricken Monarch, and so made but feeble response. Noticing this, and mistaking its import, the friends of the Prince Amyntas, who had as a child been deposed of the crown by Philip, gathered about him and responded with the counter-cry:

"Long live Amyntas, the rightful King !" Then a most startling and unlooked for thing occurred, for from without the gaping throng a gentle maid, with face of Grecian mould, thrust her way to the front, her dark and lustrous eyes crazed with fear and deep disquietude. Clothed in

LONG LIVE THE KING 5

Theban garb, those who looked with wonder and surprise, saw about her graceful neck the hated badge of slavery, true in every detail save that it was of figured gold instead of iron. Approaching within the circle gathered about the fallen King, she threw herself upon her knees beside the Prince, and catching hold of his cloak raised it to her lips, crying in tones that every one could hear:

"No! No! Not Amyntas, but Alexander, the rightful heir — ^he only is King !" and this with voice and gesture, as if she were the equal in rank and station of the most exalted present. Ceasing, she stared about her bewildered, as if not knowing where she was, but presently becoming conscious of her act and the presence of the staring assemblage, she gave a frightened cry and fell forward in a faint, her golden hair showing in the sun like splashes of blood on the marble floor.

Stirred to the heart by what they saw and heard, the guard, abandoning the prostrate Monarch, raised their weapons aloft with exultant gesture, shouting :

"Alexander! Alexander! Long live Alexander, King of Macedon !"

At this the multitude, before quiescent, stirred to life, filled the vast structure with a roar of fierce approval, and the throng without, heeding it, took up the cry, so that all other sounds were instantly hushed in the wild acclaim. Disconcerted and immanned by the demonstration, which was one of menace as well as exultation, Amyntas' friends ceased their cries, and those who had been parties to the plot to murder Philip fled in hot haste, all save Lyncestes, one of the- chief conspirators. He, abandoning those with whom he had been associated to their fate, ran to Alexander's side, and kneeling, kissed his hand, exclaiming: "Long live Alexander, King!" Afterward joining the guards of the King, he helped to arm the Prince, and this with such show of loyalty and affection that every one remarked the timely favour.

While what we have related was transpiring, Antipater, sorrowing and undone, pushed his way to the body of the fallen Monarch, and placing it upon a litter, commanded the officers of the guard to bear it to the regal palace. In this way and in silence it was borne through the crowded streets, attended by Alexander and followed by the vast multitude that filled the city. Reaching the palace, the governour lost no time in surrounding it with a cordon of troops, placing trusted guards at each of the entrances to the vast structure. When these preliminaries had been completed, the Herald of the Court, surrounded by the officers and attendants of the late King in their robes of state, advanced to the entrance of the palace, where he three times solemnly proclaimed Alexander King, each announcement being hailed with responsive cries by the multitude that filled the courtyard of the palace and adjacent streets.

Chapter II An Act Of Mercy

When Alexander had been proclaimed King, as described in the preceding chapter, he proceeded to the Temple of Zeus, attended by sacred priests, robed in white, his brow encircled by a wreath, where he offered fitting sacrifices and libations in dutiful honour to the manes of his father, in anticipation of the more stately ceremonies to follow at a later day. Afterward, and in response to the tumultuous cries of the excited throng, the young King appeared at the entrance of the palace, where he publicly thanked the citizens for their expressions of loyalty and affection.

Satisfied of the fealty of the people, he determined to lose no time in visiting the army marshalled on the plain beyond the city in anticipation of any event following Philip's death, that might call for its interference. Of its loyalty the young King had no doubt notwithstanding the rumours that filled the air of divisions among its members, some claiming it favoured Amyntas, the deposed prince, others the young prince, Ceranus, many avowing it to be unfriendly to Alexander, believing him in some way accessory to Philip's murder. Aroused by these rumours, and the persistency with which they were repeated, Alexander mounted his war-horse, Bucephalus, and set out, unarmed, determined to ascertain the disposition of the troops, which from his long association with them, he believed to be friendly to his cause. Accompanying him as an escort of honour and affection, were a body of the Companions, men of princely and noble lineage, clad throughout in armour and armed with buckler, spear and sword, similar in all respects to the knights of the Middle Ages with whom they have been aptly compared. In the prime of life, of accomplished manners and unconquerable courage, they were in truth fit companions of the Macedonian Kings. At sight of Alexander as he issued from the great gate of the royal palace, amid the blare of trumpets, the clash of armour and neighing of horses, the overwrought multitude, forgetful of file tragedy of Philip's death, hailed the young Monarch with such strength of lung and fervency of heart that his eyes filled with tears of love and gratitude. Removing his helmet, his long flaxen hair~falling about his face, which still bore traces of the shock and horror of the morning, gave to his high and noble features a look of indescribable majesty and grace as he responded to the salutations of the people.

In the midst of his progress through the crowded streets an old man, clad in shepherd's garb, threw himself before the King's horse, and holding up

AN, ACT OF MERCY 9

his hands, craved a favour. Annoyed and angered, his thoughts busy with what had transpired and the uncertainty of the hour — nay, of the good intention of many who crowded forward seemingly in welcome^the young King nevertheless remembering that he was now the father and guardian of his people, drew rein, and smiling upon the suppliant, motioned him to prefer his request.

"Pardon, oh King ! Pardon ! Pardon !" the suppliant cried out in the rude patois of his mountain tribe, falling upon his knees.

Responding with like speech, the King bade him make known his prayer.

"The life of my son — under sentence of death," he sobbed, dipping his forehead in the dust.

"For what offence ?" the King asked, with gentle voice.

"An act of treason," he answered, prostrating himself anew as he saw the brow of the King darken at his words.

"Against whom?" Alexander asked, the multitude standing mute as if stricken with death.

"Thyself, oh King — and most foolishly; but the boy's words coming to the ears of Antipater, he has been arrested and condemned to death."

"And most properly, oh King," Lyncestes interrupted, pushing forward, eager to display his newborn loyalty. "The sweet air of our mountains, poisoned with the breath of traitors, needs the lo ALEXANDER THE KING

lightning stroke of death to cleanse it of the foul taint, lest another fall like Philip."

"The poor lad was deep in drink, and knew not what he said," the old man protested, "for he bears thee no malice, oh King, as I well know, having served thy father faithfully in the ranks these many years," he concluded, his gaze fixed with supplicating eagerness upon Alexander.

"Grieve no longer, old man, for such babblings have no meaning and were the better left unnoticed," the King consoled, after a moment's pause. "I might not this day forgive such words uttered against another, but directed against myself I may act without offence. Rise and give thanks to the gods," he went on, with smiling countenance, "that your prayer prompts me to a duty I had forgotten that well befits this hour of blood and dire reprisals," and turning to his secretary, he commanded: "See to it, Eumenes, that the accused is at once set free; and that the black events of this murderous day may not go forth to the world unsd-voured by some act of sovereign grace, prepare an edict in the King's name, granting pardon to all who have offended save such as are contrivers or abettors in my father's murder." Then turning anew to the old man with meaning speech, he said, "Go thy way in peace, and bid those you love mix not politics with their wine, lest another time the King be not near or in the mood to pardon."

AN ACT OF MERCY ii

Overcome by the favour shown him, and weak from the infirmities of age, the old man lay still, prostrate and trembling, before the King's horse. Seeing this, the Theban maid, whom we saw hail Alexander as King in the moment of uncertainty and peril, darted from the crowd, and putting her arms about the old man, helped him to his feet. Supporting him with encouraging speech, he besought her to lead him to the King, and this she did, her face aflame with blushes. Reaching Alexander's side, the aged shepherd clasped the King's knee, bedewing it with falling tears ; but what was remarkable to those who watched, the young maid, making pretence of supporting her aged companion, pressed her lips again and again with furtive passion to the silver garniture of the Monarch's horse. Commenting upon it, many who watched thought the act coming from a Theban slave, captive of the State, arose from excess of sympathy for the bereaved shepherd. But those prudishly inclined openly declaimed against so forward an act, and with one accord fell to inveighing against the degeneracy of the times and the boldness of all bondmaids, praying aloud to the gods that the young King might have greater strength than Philip to withstand the wiles of Theban slaves and other shameless wantons. But of all this the gentle maid heard not a word, or hearing seemed not to hear.

Unconscious of what occurred or the comments of the multitude, the King proceeded on his way, animated and exalted that his first act should be one of sovereign mercy. Then it was amid the wild huzzas of the multitude, who watched and listened, that the ambitious Prince, whom glory encompassed as with a mantle, felt the power and pathos of the kingly office; what it was to be a patriarchal King; to be set apart to be the protector and judge of men. His mind thus occupied, he went his way, no longer conscious of the cries of the people that filled the air anew as knowledge of what he had done was conveyed from mouth to mouth.

"Surely, a day so sad and yet so glorious was never known before," Hephestion, a young officer of the Companions and the intimate friend of Alexander, exclaimed.

"Eye of Cyclops, no!" Clearchus, a Companion ever ready with speech and sword, gloated, eying the crowd complacently. "It will be one for men to long remember: Philip making triumphant progress through his capital ; Philip murdered ; and now with scarce an hour's interval the old King quite forgotten, his son proclaimed, following the selfsame path that Philip trod, and amid like welcoming cries."

"The people give the young King royal welcome, and all the world is here to witness it," Perdiccas, a

AN ACT OF MERCY 13

trusted officer, exclaimed, surveying the throng that filled the streets and housetops, and, room being denied, found place of vantage on the sides of the mountain that loomed about the ancient capital.

"It cannot be but a reign so heartily welcomed must prove a happy one," Hephestion resumed, as if to assure himself that the manner of Alexander's accession boded the young King no ill.

"Flame of fire, yes, and one in which 'tis good to be alive ; a reign of wars and surprisements and the sack of Persian treasuries," Clearchus foretold, looking about him.

"And see, he salutes the multitude as if he had always reigned; and do you remember it was as King that Philip hailed him on the battle-field of Cheronea when he clasped him in his arms," Nearchus, a Companion, cried exultantly.

"But will not the envious and ill-natured say that he lacks in respect to his father's memory in thus hastening his recognition as King?" Hephestion questioned, as if fearing Alexander's action might be commented upon unkindly.

"Eye of Cyclops, no ! When traitors are abroad and a throne's the prize, men do not wait on ceremony. Nor is it well even in peaceful times, as our history proves, to let the crown of a dead king lie idle ere the rightful owner claps it on his head."

" 'Tis not the throne of Macedonia onl)^ that is at stake today," Perdiccas mused.

"No, 'tis the domination of the world," another boasted.

"Yes, and both he in the keeping of yonder army," Perdiccas added, nodding his head in the direction of the valley beyond the city where the troops were quartered, and toward which Alexander was with difficulty making his way.

"And the King in thus hastening his recognition forecasts by so wise and prompt an act ^yhat he will do once the throne is his."

"He needs be prompt, for see yonder fiery signals already convey to enemies abroad the news of Philip's death," Clearchus cried with a scowl, pointing to the mountain heights above the city, from which columns of smoke were slowly ascending, conveying quick intelligence to surrounding nations of what had taken place.

"Nor are the telltale fires the work of our savage visitors alone," Nearchus raged, referring to the representatives of barbarous tribes present in the city as the guests of Philip.

"No, Demosthenes has long since had in like manner, news of Philip's fall, and quick to serve our enemies, has conveyed intelligence thereof to his patron, the Persian King," Perdiccas angrily commented.

" 'Twill be sweet news to him !"

"Yes, and others like him who have long feared Philip's power," Hephestion mourned.

AN ACT OF MERCY 15

"Think you they will gain by the exchange?" some one asked, with a cynical laugh.

"No ! God of gods, no ! Persia has more to fear from Alexander than a dozen Philips, crippled with wounds and distraught with the intrigues and clamoui-ings of his many wives," Clearchus cried, as if seeing therein compensation for Macedonia's present great loss.

Chapter III

"Eye of Cyclops, what have we here?" Clearchus cried out, as he reined in his horse, attracted by the tumultuous cries of the throng that filled a narrow street the Companions were that moment passing.

"Gods of Olympus, 'tis the sovereign Prince Amyntas pursued by the officers of Antipater!" Hephestion responded, angered at the spectacle.

"And well it is so if half that's told of him concerning Philip's death be true," the other muttered.

"But the piteousness of it, Clearchus — a Prince of royal blood to be thus hunted before the world !" Hephestion grieved.

"Yes, better the old way, to strike them when asleep, or in some quiet corner where the world's eye does not reach and its protruding ears may be filled at leisure with specious tales of the ails that took them off," Clearchus dryly responded. "Surely, we have fallen on vulgar days, when princes are put to death thus openly," he laughed.

" 'Tis not that, Clearchus, but Amyntas is so young and hath such great pretentions to the throne that treason seems to find excuse in him."

"Fie on your soft heart ! Death is ever the fate of those who have only pretentions to a throne! Why, you have not fingers and toes, Hephestion, on which to count the Macedonian princes who have met untimely deaths in vain attempts to climb the bloody steps or hold their feet once the height had been attained. And now comes Amyntas, young and comely, to make the venture, and failing, goes to join the bloody throng."

'And as he falls, Alexander, not less aspiring, forgetful of the past and risking all, rides forth afield, void of buckler or spear, to try if he may grasp what others had and could not hold," Hephestion murmured, a note of fear in his voice.

"And being in the right, may the gods favour the effort," Perdiccas prayed.

"Never fear; nor will one throne content him unless indeed it far o'ertops all others," Nearchus confidently added.

"What further news have you of today's happenings, Clearchus?" Hephestion asked, referring to the conspiracy of Pausanias.

" 'Tis said a score of those involved have already paid the debt, not one being spared. A busy day, and much to the liking of Antipater, our ironhearted governour," Clearchus answered complacently.

"He has no mercy for those who have offended."

"No, not more than a boar's tusk."

"Men need be strong in times like these, Clearchus," Hephestion excused in his mild way.

"Yes, and Antipater is as free from weaknesses as he is of human virtues," the other laughed, thinking of the austere governour's sober habits and avoidance of wine, of which Macedonians were thought to be overfond.

"Think you Alexander approves his acts?"

"Flame of fire, yes ! Furious rage has followed the hour of horror, and 'tis his command that all implicated in the murder shall suffer death. But look, Hephestion, the officers who pursue Amyntas are followed by a troop of horse, making his capture sure !" Clearchus cried, pointing to the Prince, who was now hemmed in on every side.

"An hundred to one !"

"May treason be ever thus outnumbered!"

"But not without a contest will Amjmtas yield !" Eumenes cried, elated. "See, he turns on his pursuers with uplifted sword, meeting fhem midway of the narrow field !"

" 'Tis a sight for sore eyes, and for it I forgive the wretch his many crimes," Clearchus exclaimed. "But look, the people fall back; hating the Prince, they will not see him put to death without a chance to show the stuff he's made of!"

" 'Twill avail him nothing, for the soldiers, insane with rage, rush on with protruding spears, while he has but his sword, and so will fall ere he can strike a blow," Hephestion grieved.

"No, brave men fight not thus unfairly, the gods be praised — for see, Seleucus and Ptolemy, who pursue the traitor, wave back the advancing troops, declining aid !" Clearchus shouted.

"Yes, and that it may not savour of murder, Seleucus himself withdraws, leaving Ptolemy to fight it out with Amyntas, man to man."

"Bravo, Seleucus, 'tis what one might expect of a Companion ; but 'twill avail Amyntas nothing, for Ptolemy's the better man and has the better cause," Clearchus exclaimed, with envious warmth, having himself long sought a chance to fight the Prince because of the latter's splenetic temper, of which he had at one time been the helpless victim.

"See! They fall upon each other with the fury of demons, and the rabble, fired by the sight, cheer them on impartially, caring little so that the best man wins," Perdiccas commented, as he watched the struggle between the two men.

"The blood of Kings should not be thus despoiled before the gaping crowd. I would Amyntas had died fighting for his country instead of falling thus ignobly," Hephestion said with sorrowing voice, as the Prince fell back before the savage onslaught of the other.

"Bravo, Ptolemy! See, he halts and backs away, that Amyntas may have sword room in the crowded space ! Flame of fire, may no harm come to him because of the generous act !"

"Now they fall on again, and one can only see the flash, so swift is stroke on stroke," Perdiccas murmured.

"By the gods, 'tis a sight to warm the blood; but see, Amyntas again gives way, unable to withstand the fury of the other's charge."

"And to his doom," Clearchus cried as Ptolemy, lifting his horse, beat down the Prince's wavering defence and thrust him through the body. "A timely service done the State, comrade, and sparing us the hated office of a trial before the gaping crowd !" the old soldier went on presently, as Amyntas' body, swaying this way and that, fell headlong to the ground.

As the little group of officers thus commented on the tragic spectacle, Ptolemy threw himself from his horse, and kneeling, lifted up the dying man to receive in generous sympathy any message the stricken Prince might have to leave. Seeing this, Clearchus, excited by the act, called out :

"Well done, Ptolemy, may you have better fortune than Amyntas if perchance a vacant throne awaits an occupant, and you in courage seek preferment," he went on in idle comment, as if fore^ seeing, far off, the founding of Egypt's royal house and Ptolemy's part therein.

Unconscious of Amyntas' tragic death, Alexander, who rode some distance in advance, kept on his way amid the acclamations of the multitude.

who crowded close upon him as if they could not see enough of their beloved Prince. In this way he at last reached the valley that lay beyond the city, its broad expanse intersected by a broiling mountain stream that wound its way hither and thither throughout its length. On the further side and as far as the eye could reach, the war-worn tents of the soldiers covered the grass grown plain. But near at hand on the bank of the mountain stream, Philip's invincible army awaited Alexander's coming. In front, the Companions rested, clad in armour, their plumes waving in the gentle breeze. Behind them in solid column, there came the Phalanx, which, with the Companions, formed the array and strength of every battle. Near at hand and in honour were the Foot Guards of the King, while further off, troops of lighter arms mingled in picturesque confusion^with the bowmen, slingers and darters of the army. As Alexander approached, the wild acclaim that had ever attended his coming was strangely absent, the salutations that met him seeming to belong to an officer rather than a king. Of heartiness or enthusiasm, there was none ; rather an attitude of doubt : that of men long led to victory by one they trusted and loved, who had been suddenly stricken down but at whose instigation they knew not, a thousand rumours filling the air. Sorrowing, they welcomed Alexander with ashen faces and leaden eyes, seemingly forgetful of his services in the past and disregardful of his claims to the crown, thinking always of Philip and his death that had deprived them of both a father and a victorious leader. In all this the young King sympathized, but seeming not to notice their sullen attitude or changed demeanour, sorrowing and disturbed, he slowed his horse, and saluting the waiting troops, addressed them with halting speech, striving in vain to overcome his agitation and deep distress.

"Comrades! Macedonians! Philip, our beloved King is dead ! He who led us to victory, who made our country great, has fallen, murdered by Pausanias, his trusted Captain of the Guard; and this because of a wrong done the assassin by Attains, in which the King had no part ! Thus a day happily begun, and of which so much was thought, is filled with sadness and despair. Comrades ! you have lost a King; I, both a father and a King! Sorrowing, I mingle my tears with yours. But though the King is dead, the King remains. The past we cannot recall — the present is our own! Succeeding to a throne made great by Philip, I will follow his footsteps, the fortunes of the army being mine as they were his ; and on this sword, worn by him but yesterday, I swear in pledge to maintain all he so bravely won!" he concluded, raising aloft

the shining blade, s

Hearing him, the faces of the soldiers softened, for they loved the young Prince, not alone as Philip's son, but as a companion in arms, the dangers and hardships of which he had shared with them. And of his leadership they had seen abundant proof at Cheronea, where the opposing army, believed invincible, had crumbled into dust before the charge of his victorious troops. Remembering this, the soldiers accepted his. word and hailed him King, but sadly; and lacking the note of impulse, died away in a sob or sorrowing wail rather than a cry of exultation. Noticing the lack of heartiness, the brow of the King darkened, but otherwise he gave no sign save that of weariness, as if life's energies were exhausted by the horrors and unexpected happenings of the day. His hair, which commonly hung in ringlets about his neck and shoulders, lay limp and dishevelled, and his face, usually animated and full of colour, was drawn and of the pallour of a dead man. Seeing this, the multitude stood still expectant, as if Philip's death were somehow to be followed by a tragedy still more startling. While all watched and waited, scarce breathing, there suddenly emerged from out the crowd — and not by chance, as it had seemed before — the Theban maidy whom we have seen, busy with the tragic happenings of the day. Hastening to a group of soldiers and filling a horn with wine, she proffered it to the exhausted King, and with such air of gentleness and modesty that all who watched were captivated by the kindly act. As he recognized the young maid and stooped to receive the proffered cup, she caught his hand, and pressing it to her lips, whispered as if to an equal :