"Be not angry," Azemilcus replied, still with his soft smile. "We have wasted so much time in sight-seeing that no doubt Alexander is growing impatient. We will send you back to him more quickly than you came, so that his anger may be turned from us."
Amid shouts of delight from the crowd, the heralds were bound hand and foot with cords. Their knees were drawn up to their chests and lashed there so as to make their bodies as compact as possible. Finally a copy of the reply to Alexander was attached to their right hands.
"King of Tyre!" Galas said, when the soldiers had done their work, "you have broken the faith of nations. For our death, if for nothing else, shall your city fall and become an evil memory among men. Even your Gods shall withdraw from you. Farewell!"
Neither of the lads had uttered a cry as the rawhide thongs, drawn too tightly, cut into their flesh. Galas turned his head as well as he could and spoke to his younger companion.
"Cleanor, we have been friends," he said. "Now we are about to die. Be brave for the honor of Macedon! I go with you."
"Do not fear, Galas; I promise," the other replied, and no more words passed between them.
The soldiers were busily preparing two of the immense ballistæ. Inserting levers in holes in the ends of the rollers, they turned the wooden cylinders backward, slowly winding up the rope that was attached to the casting arm and drawing it back into a horizontal position. The tough rope strained and the framework of beams creaked as the great arms were forced into place.
When the wide spoons of wrought iron were ready, the boys were lifted and placed in them. The spectators, irritated because the victims did not beg for mercy, howled threats and insults at them. This abuse brought no response, and fearful lest the courage of the lads might create a bad impression, Azemilcus ended the sport by ordering the ballistæ to be discharged.
Throwing their weight suddenly upon the cords that drew the triggers, the soldiers released the arms of the machines, which sprang upward and crashed against the cross-beams. The bodies of the heralds, hurled with frightful velocity into the air, shot outward and upward. Galas fell upon the end of the mole. Cleanor was dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks beside him.
A savage outcry rang from the wall across to the Macedonian camp. Soldiers ran forward and took up the two bodies, bearing them tenderly to the shore.