"Nor they for us," the captain said. "You saw what happened this afternoon. They think they can get along without us and they do not intend to let us have any share in the victory if they can help it. I believe we shall win if it is true that Alexander has only half as many men as we; but they will never win without our assistance."
"I suppose we shall fight in the centre," Clearchus suggested.
"I don't know," the captain exclaimed. "Nobody seems to know. If they take Memnon's advice, they will not risk all on a battle now. There is no need of it. All we have to do is to fall back, leaving nothing to eat behind us, and the Macedonians will starve to death. But the nobles will not listen to reason. They want glory, and so they insist upon a battle where the advantage will be all with the other side. They called Memnon a coward in the council this afternoon for proposing to retreat, and now they are at it again over yonder."
He pointed to a gayly colored pavilion in the middle of the Persian camp, where the council feast was being held. It looked like a strange, gigantic mushroom, glowing with interior light.
"They even jeer at us for throwing up breastworks," the captain added bitterly. "They have left their own camp defenceless, to show how brave they are. Perhaps they will be glad enough to take refuge in ours before they are through!"
"We must find out what the decision of the council is," Leonidas whispered, as they rolled themselves in their cloaks, "and then the next thing will be to get away."
CHAPTER XVII
THE TRAGEDY OF THE MARSH
It was after midnight when the council ended and the generals returned to the mercenary camp. Chares and Clearchus had long been slumbering, but Leonidas, feeling his responsibility as leader, had deemed it his duty not to yield to his fatigue until the camp was still.