"You are right," Chares answered without turning his head. "We are coming. I wish Alexander were here!"
He cut down a negro who had succeeded in getting within the thrust of Clearchus' lance.
"This is better than Granicus," he panted, as the man rolled upon the ground.
Clearchus made no reply, and Chares saw that his face was drawn and pale. It was clear that he was becoming exhausted. The Theban was filled with sudden alarm.
"To the wall!" he cried, wheeling his horse. "Bear up for a little yet, and we will show these beasts how Greeks can die!"
They recovered their position with difficulty, followed by the howling Scyths and negroes. Half the Arab escort had been killed, and Nathan was bleeding from a wound in the thigh, though he still fought gallantly. Chares alone was both unwearied and unscathed. He seemed endowed with the strength of ten men as he faced the fierce onset. His aspect as he turned at bay with uplifted sword caused the Scyths for an instant to hesitate. Then they charged, clustering around the little band like a swarm of angry bees, pushing each other forward and striking over one another's shoulders. It was clear that the conflict could not last much longer. Nathan knew that, once they were down in that seething and raging mob, they would meet a frightful death. His flesh shuddered at the thought of what was to come.
"Down with them! Down with the Greek dogs! They give way!" yelled the mob.
Clearchus glanced at the sea of distorted faces, white, yellow, and black, and saw thousands of eyes glaring hungrily at them. A strange indifference took possession of him. Why should he strive? What mattered it now whether the God of Nathan was mightier than the Gods of Greece? Not even the Gods could save them. If Artemisia were dead, he would meet her presently in the Elysian Fields. If she were living, sooner or later she would join him in the land of shades beyond Styx. There he would tell her how his heart had suffered. It was easier to die than to live, since now he must die.
"It is finished, Chares; we will go together," he called to the Theban.
"Not until I get this one!" Chares replied grimly, nodding toward a man who crouched before him just beyond the reach of his sword.