"Clearchus, an Athenian, and Chares, a Theban," he said. "They have served in the army of the Macedonian, and they were sent to the king from Halicarnassus by Memnon."
"Why have they been permitted to live?" Darius demanded, his face darkening at the name of the lost city.
"Because Memnon believed they could give the king information," Boupares answered humbly, "and when captured they had left the army of Alexander."
"What manner of man is this Alexander?" Darius asked, turning his face to the Greeks.
"He is a king," Chares answered quietly.
"How can he hope to meet me, with his handful of men?" Darius asked again.
"He remembers Cyrus, thy ancestor," Chares replied boldly.
These answers made an evident impression on Darius, whose face lost its listless expression. Many questions he put to the Greeks, who made no attempt to conceal anything from him, knowing that others could give him the information that he desired if they refused, and that refusal would mean immediate death. Finally the king could think of nothing more to ask.
"I am about to march against thy Alexander," he said. "Who will win the victory?"
"Victory is the gift of the Gods, O king," Clearchus said quickly. "Dost thou wish flattery, or a frank reply, without concealment?"