"Here we go!" cried Chares, clapping Nathan on the back with a blow that nearly hurled him from his horse. "Stick to Leonidas! He will find the best of the fighting for us, or we will drown him in the river!"
"The phalanx is moving!" Clearchus cried with shining eyes.
A dull throbbing beat through the air and the heavy centre started slowly forward, each man touching the arm of his neighbor and keeping step in parade order. The cadence of voices began to mingle with the drum beat and the wild music of the trumpets.
As they advanced, Clearchus gazed eagerly at the Persian line, every nerve stretched to the point of physical pain. He saw in the centre the ranks of the Greek mercenaries, ten times as deep as those of the phalanx, standing grim and motionless, in strange contrast with the restless flutter of the heterogeneous masses that surrounded them on three sides. He blushed to think that, when Persia stood at bay, Greeks could be found to range themselves with her against their own country. The thought passed through his mind that Alexander was right after all, and that Demosthenes and those who aided him to fan the flame of hostility to Macedon at home were really acting the part of traitors, not only to Athens, but to all Greece.
He turned his eyes to Alexander, whose plumes shone in the front rank of the Agema. This had now almost reached the Pinarus. Suddenly from the phalanx rose the deep-toned pæan, summoning the Gods of Hellas to protect their own. The mighty chant drowned the throbbing of the drums and the uproar of the battle on the beach. As it rose and swelled, it filled the plain and rolled back in echoes from the mountain sides. There was something in it stern and inflexible, that thrilled Clearchus' heart and lifted him to the plane of self-forgetfulness.
The Agema reached the river. The pæan gave way to a wild shout as the slow advance of the phalanx changed to a rush, and the Macedonian line dashed into the rain of javelins, darts, and arrows that was poured upon it from the Persian side of the stream.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE CHESTNUT MARE
The phalanx swept into the shallow bed of the river. The Greek mercenaries who confronted it on the western bank, nerved by the hope of gaining the immense reward promised by the Great King, and knowing that his eyes were upon them, met its shock with courage. Clearchus heard the fierce shouts with which they closed and saw the line of the phalanx bend and sway as it pressed upward to gain a foothold.