The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great

"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 woman's face. Her beauty evidently made a deep impression upon him, for his expression changed and he seemed hardly able to take his eyes from her.

"Where is this Chares?" he inquired, at last, staring about him.

Mena indicated the Theban with a nod, and then, noticing that all eyes were turned upon his master, he bawled out: "Make room for Phradates of the royal blood of Tyre!"

"Do you want to sell him?" asked the auctioneer.

The Phœnician's face became purple and he turned angrily upon Mena, but the alert Egyptian had slipped away to fetch the gold.

"Three talents for the girl!" Phradates cried.

"Five talents!" Chares answered.

The spectators, who had long ago ceased to think of bidding against the Theban, drew a deep breath and looked from one contestant to the other. Maia alone seemed indifferent. A tress of her hair had fallen upon her shoulder. She twisted it back into place. Chares had not seen her face when the soldier lifted her veil and his attention was now centred upon his opponent.

"Seven talents!" Phradates shouted, fixing his eyes defiantly upon Chares.

"Eight!" the Theban answered, without hesitation.

This was more than all the other captives in the group had brought. The crowd began to hum with excitement. Phradates looked over his shoulder and saw Mena leading four slaves who carried bags of gold.

"Ten talents!" he cried.

"All bids must be paid in cash," the auctioneer said warningly.

Every face was turned toward Chares, who had called his steward and was consulting with him. "How much have we left?" the Theban asked. The man made a rapid calculation on his tablets.

"You have ten talents and thirty minæ," he replied. "That is the end."

"I bid ten talents and thirty minæ," Chares said promptly, addressing the auctioneer.

It was evident to all that he could go no further. Would Phradates be able to outbid him? The Phœnician hesitated and turned to Mena.

"He has won," the slave whispered. "You have only ten talents. If you had beaten him, we should have starved to death."

"Then we will starve!" Phradates replied. "I demand that the gold be weighed!"

"You have that right," the auctioneer admitted. "Bring out the scales."

The scales were brought and the gold was poured into the broad pans which hung suspended from their framework of wood. The glittering heaps increased until each pan overflowed with the precious coins and ingots. When all was in readiness for the test, they held a fortune such as few men in all Greece possessed. The spectators devoured it with their eyes, pressing against the soldiers in the hope of getting a better view. The maiden, Maia, who was the object of the rivalry, was forgotten.

The scales oscillated slowly and at last settled deliberately on the side toward Chares. The tale was correct and his last thirty minæ had given him the victory. The crowd broke into a cheer.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the Macedonian captain.

"No!" Phradates shouted. A red spot glowed on his cheeks and his fingers trembled as he stripped off his rings and his chains of gold. He placed the ornaments on his side of the scales. "I bid thirteen talents," he declared.

"Payments are to be made in money," Chares remonstrated. "Who can tell what these trinkets are worth?"

"We may accept them at a true valuation," the captain decided.

He summoned a jeweller of Corinth, who examined the rings with care, and announced his readiness to take them at a sum sufficient to make up the total of the Phœnician's offer.