The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great. Fuller Robert Higginson
had been slain when the strength and vigor of the city were cut off in a day, walked sadly and alone.
When all had been herded within the ring formed by the guard, the Macedonian captain who was to conduct the sale of the group that contained Chares' friends mounted briskly upon a block of stone and announced the terms prescribed for buyers. Payment was to be made in all cases in cash, and the purchaser was to have immediate possession. Chares took a position facing the auctioneer in a knot of dealers who were searching for some fortunate speculation. These men looked upon the unhappy Thebans with professional keenness, exchanging comments among themselves.
"That's a fine old fellow with the white beard," said one. "He looks as though he might have money out at interest somewhere."
"Probably he's only a philosopher," another said scornfully. "For my part, I shall buy that thin one. He has been living on bread and water all his life and he must have a snug sum buried. Trust me to make him dig it up!"
"There seem to be some marketable girls here," observed a third. "I find the Medes will pay a better price for them if they have a pedigree as well as good looks."
Mena, the Egyptian, prying about through the crowd, examined the captives with speculative eyes. Suddenly he caught sight of a figure that caused him to stop and stare. It was that of a young woman, veiled, who seemed to be seeking to conceal herself behind the other prisoners.
"Who is she?" he asked of one of the guard when he had recovered from his astonishment.
"She is down on our list as Maia, daughter of Thales," the man replied.
Mena seemed puzzled. "I must find out more about this," he said to himself, taking his stand at a point of vantage. "Besides, there may be a chance here to turn a profitable investment."
The chatter ceased as the captain opened a roll of papyrus containing the names of the prisoners and announced that the sale was about to begin. The old man with the white beard was the first to be brought forward. He proved to have been one of the Bœotarchs.
"How much am I offered for him?" the captain cried. "He is old, but his wisdom is all the greater for that."
"Five drachmæ!" shouted a countryman in a patched and faded cloak. "He gave a decision against me once in a lawsuit."
Everybody laughed at this reason for making a bid, but the farmer seemed in deadly earnest.
"Five minæ!" Chares said quietly. There was no other bid and the sale was made.
Then came a slender girl with yellow hair and blue eyes that were swollen with weeping. Her chiton of fine linen clung in graceful folds to her slim figure, and she trembled so violently that she could scarcely stand.
"She ought to fill out well if she lives," said one of the merchants, stroking his beard, while he examined her carefully. "But it's always a risk to buy them so young."
"She might be trained to dance," said Mena, who had elbowed his way into the crowd. "It's worth trying if she goes cheap. Fifty drachmæ!"
"Five minæ!" Chares said again.
"That's ten times what she is worth!" Mena exclaimed, turning angrily upon the Theban. "Are you trying to prevent honest men from making a living?"
"Let honest men speak for themselves," Chares retorted.
The laugh that followed filled the Egyptian with rage. He was cunning enough to wait until Chares had made several more purchases, and at prices far above the market value of the captives. Mena guessed that the Theban intended to outbid all who opposed him. He resolved to be revenged by making him pay dearly for his purchases. It happened that the next offering was a man whose name was not on Chares' list. Out of mere good nature he bid two hundred and fifty drachmæ for him.
"Five minæ!" the Egyptian shouted, doubling the bid with the intention of forcing Chares to go higher.
But Chares was silent, and no other bidder appeared. Mena, who did not have the money that he had offered, shifted uneasily, looking at Chares.
"I see you have some sense," he cried at last. "You are afraid to bid against me!"
Chares made no reply.
"He is yours," the auctioneer said, addressing Mena. "Step this way with your money!"
"Wait!" screamed the Egyptian. "I withdraw the bid! The man is lame!"
"Do you mean to accuse me of trying to cheat you?" roared the Macedonian captain.
"Perhaps you didn't notice it," the Egyptian faltered.
"Away with him!" cried the soldier.
While the prisoner was being awarded to Chares, two men led Mena out of the circle, amid the jeers of the spectators. At a safe distance, under pretence of seeing whether he really had the money he had offered, they took from him all that he possessed and divided it between themselves before they let him go.
"I'll make him sorry for this!" Mena said, shaking his fist at Chares. "I know what I know; but why do they call her Maia?"
Burning with rage, the Egyptian slunk away in search of his master, Phradates, whom he found wandering idly among the scattered groups of captives.
"Oh, Phradates, thou hast been insulted!" Mena cried, breathlessly.
"How so, dog?" Phradates demanded, his face darkening as he spoke.
The Phœnician's figure was tall and well knit, although the profusion of jewels and golden chains that he wore, and his garments of rich silk, woven with gold thread, gave him an effeminate look. His face might have been handsome had it not been marred by an expression of haughty insolence which betrayed the weakness upon which Mena intended to play.
He had been sent into Greece by Azemilcus and the Tyrian Council in the guise of a rich young man on his travels, but with the real object of discovering the plans and strength of Alexander. Tyre was nominally tributary to the Great King, but the only sign of her dependence was the payment of a small annual tribute. In all matters of moment she managed her own affairs. It was important, therefore, for her rulers to have exact knowledge of what was going forward in Greece, so that they might shape their course as seemed best for their own advantage.
Mena noted the flush on his master's cheek and foresaw the success of his scheme of revenge.
"It occurred to my poor mind," he explained volubly, "that your Highness would be pleased with a slave from this city of rats, which, nevertheless, contains some charming maidens. I learned that they had assembled all the prisoners of gentle birth in one place together. I went there and examined them for you. Among them I found a girl of rare beauty and when I asked concerning her, they told me she was Maia, daughter of Thales, one of the chief men in the city. Such a form as she has! – with hair like copper and a glance that would – "
"Will you never finish?" Phradates asked angrily.
"I chose her for your Highness and gave command that she be reserved until I could find you to claim her," Mena continued. "But it seems a Theban, whom they call Chares, had resolved to buy her for himself. I told him that I had spoken for the girl in your name. 'Let the Tyrian hound go back to his dye-vats,' he said. 'The girl is mine and he shall not have her while I have an obol left!' He said much more against the people of Tyre and yourself in particular that I will not offend your Highness by repeating. I am sorry that I lost the girl, for there is no other like her among the captives."
"Where is she?" Phradates demanded abruptly.
"If your Highness will deign to follow, I will conduct you to her," Mena replied with alacrity.
"Lead on!" Phradates commanded. "And then fetch quickly the gold we borrowed from the old Athenian."
Chares had purchased all the prisoners on his list excepting the girl called Maia, and the soldiers were leading her forward when Mena and Phradates arrived. The young woman's face and head were muffled in a silken scarf, and her figure was concealed beneath a cloak.
"Give place!" cried Mena, bustling officiously into the crowd. "Make way for the noble Phradates!"
One of the soldiers raised the scarf long enough for the Phœnician to see the young