Again Alexander and Darius stood face to face, this time upon the plain of Nineveh at Gaugamela, the Camel's House, beyond the swift Tigris. Chares and Leonidas felt the chill of autumn in the air as they strolled out upon the earthen ramparts that sheltered the Macedonian camp. The wide plain below them, where they knew the Persian host was assembled, was shrouded in mist.
Both were silent, and both were thinking of Clearchus, whom they had left behind in Egypt, in the new city that Alexander had founded at the mouth of the Nile, giving it his own name. There he was building the house that was to shelter him and Artemisia amid its gardens, within sight and sound of the sea; for when he learned of the wreck of his fortune, he had no desire to return to Athens.
"We shall soon know who is master," the Spartan said, gazing toward the mist-wrapped plain.
Chares followed his look indifferently, yawned, and stretched his arms.
"I believe I would rather go back to sleep than fight," he said. "I don't know what has come over me."
Leonidas shot him a quick glance, and it seemed to him that the Theban's face had aged and grown grave over night.
"I wonder what Clearchus and Artemisia and little Chares are doing," Chares went on. "I would like to see them again. May the Gods give them happiness!"
"Yes, and I shall be happy too when you have built your palace beside them," Leonidas replied. "It will have to be a palace, for Thais will be satisfied with nothing less."
Chares smiled a little sadly and shook his head.
"That is not for me," he said. "I shall never have a home and children of my own."