A Young Macedonian in the Army of Alexander the Great. Alfred John Church

name of Charidemus, craved a few minutes’ speech with the king.

      A more splendid specimen of humanity than the Macedonian monarch has seldom, perhaps never, been seen. In stature he did not much surpass the middle height, but his limbs were admirably proportioned, the very ideal of manly strength and beauty. His face, with well-cut features and brilliantly clear complexion, showed such a model as a sculptor would choose for hero or demigod. In fact, he seemed a very Achilles, born again in the later days, the handsomest of men,5 the strongest, the swiftest of foot.

      “Ah!” said the king, “that is our young friend to whom I gave the charge of Pindar’s house. I hope no harm has happened to it or him. To tell you the truth, this Theban affair has been a bad business. I would give a thousand talents that it had not happened. Show him in,” he cried out, turning to the Illyrian.

      “Hail, sire,” said Charidemus, saluting.

      “Is all well?”

      “All is well, sire. No one has offered to harm the house or its inmates. But, if you will please to hear me, I have a favour to ask.”

      “What is it? Speak on.”

      “I beg the life of a friend.”

      “The life of a friend! What friend of yours can be in danger of his life?”

      Alexander the Great.

      Charidemus told his story. Alexander listened with attention, and certainly without displeasure. He had already, as has been seen, begun to feel some repentance and even shame for the fate of Thebes, and he was not sorry to show clemency in a particular case.

      “What,” he cried, when he heard the name of the lad for whom Charidemus was making intercession. “What? was it not Charondas of Thebes who filched from you the crown at Olympia? And you have forgiven him? What did the wise Aristotle,” he went on, turning to Hephaestion, “say about forgiveness?”

      “Sire,” said Hephaestion, “you doubtless know better than I. You profited by his teaching far more than I—so the philosopher has told me a thousand times.”

      “Well,” rejoined the king, “as far as I remember, he always seemed a little doubtful. To forgive showed, he thought, a certain weakness of will; yet it might be profitable, for it was an exercise of self-restraint. Was it not so, my friend?”

      “Just so,” said Hephaestion. “And did not the wise man say that if one were ever in doubt which to choose of two things, one should take the less pleasant. I don’t know that I have ever had any experiences of forgiveness, but I certainly know the pleasure of revenge.”

      “Admirably said,” cried the king. “Your request is granted,” he went on, speaking to Charidemus. “But what will you do with your friend?”

      “He shall follow you, sire, when you go to conquer the great enemy of Hellas.”

      “So be it. Mind that I never repent this day’s clemency. And now farewell!”

      The young man again saluted, and withdrew.

      But when he unfolded his plan to the Theban, he found an obstacle which he might indeed have foreseen, but on which, nevertheless, he had not reckoned. Charondas was profoundly grateful to his deliverer, and deeply touched by his generosity. But to follow the man who had laid his country in the dust—that seemed impossible.

      “What!” he cried, “take service with the son of Philip, the hereditary enemy of Hellas!”

      “Listen!” said Charidemus; “there is but one hereditary perpetual enemy of Hellas, and that is the Persian. Since the days of Darius, the Great King has never ceased to scheme against her liberty. Do you know the story of the wrongs that these Persians, the most insolent and cruel of barbarians, have done to the children of Hellas?”

      “Something of it,” replied Charondas; “but in Thebes we are not great readers; and besides, that is a part of history which we commonly pass over.”

      “Well, it is a story of nearly two hundred years of wrong. Since Salamis and Platæa, indeed, the claws of the Persian have been clipped; but before that—it makes my blood boil to think of the things that they did to free-born men. You know they passed through Macedonia, and left it a wilderness. There are traditions in my family of their misdeeds and cruelties which make me fairly grind my teeth with rage. And then the way in which they treated the islands! Swept them as men sweep fish out of a pond! Their soldiers would join hand to hand, and drag the place, as if they were dragging with a net.”

      “They suffered for it afterwards,” said Charondas.

      “Yes, they suffered for it, but not in their own country. Twice they have invaded Hellas itself; and they hold in slavery some of the sons of Hellas to this day. But they have never had any proper punishment.”

      “But what do you think would be proper punishment?” asked the Theban.

      “That Hellas should conquer Persia, as Persia dreamt of conquering Hellas.”

      “But the work is too vast.”

      “Not so. Did you never hear how ten thousand men marched from the Ægean to the Euxine without meeting an enemy who could stand against them? And these were mere mercenaries, who thought of nothing but their pay. Yes, Persia ought to have been conquered long ago, if your cities had only been united; but you were too busy quarrelling—first Sparta against Athens, and then Thebes against Sparta, and Corinth and Argos and the rest of them backing first one side, and then the other.”

      “It is too true.”

      “And then, when there seemed to be a chance of something being done, luck came in and helped the Persians. Alexander of Pheræ had laid his plans for a great expedition against the King, and just at the moment when they were complete, the dagger of an assassin—hired, some said, with Persian gold—struck him down. Then Philip took up the scheme, and worked it out with infinite patience and skill; and lo! the knife again! Well, ‘all these things lie upon the knees of the gods.’ Alexander of Pheræ was certainly not strong enough for the work, nor, perhaps, Philip himself. And besides, Philip had spent the best years of life in preparing for it, and was scarcely young enough. But now the time has come and the man. You must see our glorious Alexander, best of soldiers, best of generals. Before a year is over, he will be well on his way to the Persians’ capital. Come with me, and help him to do the work for which Hellas has been waiting so long. Your true country is not here, among these petty states worn out with incessant strifes, but in the new empire which this darling of the gods will establish in the East.”

      “Well,” said the Theban, with a melancholy smile, “anyhow my country is not any longer here. And what you tell me seems true enough. To you, my friend, I can refuse nothing. The life which you have saved is yours. I will follow you wherever you go, and, perhaps, some day you will teach me to love even this Alexander. At present, you must allow, I have scarcely cause.”

      Thus began a friendship which was only to be dissolved by death.

      CHAPTER III

       PREPARATION

       Table of Contents

      About six months have passed since the events recorded in my last chapter. Charidemus had reported to Alexander so much of the young Theban’s answer as it seemed to him expedient to communicate; and the king had been pleased to receive it very graciously. “I am glad,” he said, “that you will have a friend in your campaigns. I should like to have such friendships all through my army. Two men watching over each other, helping each other, are worth more than double two who fight each for his own hand. You shall be a captain in the Guards.6 I can’t give your friend the same rank. It would give great offence. My Macedonians would be terribly annoyed to see a young untried Greek put over them. He must make his