"I have just been giving away the security for my debts," Alexander said, smiling at Chares. "I saw you spend your last obol to purchase the liberty of your friends at Thebes. You trusted to the chance of war to bring your fortune back to you, but I have gone further than you, for I have staked my honor. As you see me, I am worth some thirteen hundred talents less than nothing."
"But what have you left for yourself?" the Theban asked.
"My hopes," Alexander replied.
"They say the Medes have gold in plenty," Leonidas observed reflectively.
"Never fear," Alexander replied, laughing. "What are our debts of to-day in comparison with our riches of to-morrow? The Companions are all following my example. We set out with only our swords and our courage—and our golden hope!"
Again he laughed, and calling Philotas to him he turned to Clearchus.
"The queen, my mother," he said, "has heard the story of Artemisia and of what they told you at Delphi. She desires to see you. Philotas will take you to her."
Philotas led the way through courts and colonnades to the women's wing of the palace, where Olympias held sway. As they went, Clearchus recalled all he had heard of Alexander's mother—how it was averred that a great serpent was her familiar, and the tales of her passionate and revengeful nature that had caused her to order the babe of Cleopatra, who had supplanted her in the affections of her husband, to be torn from the arms of its mother and killed in her sight before she herself was slain. He had heard also of her devotion to religious mysteries and especially of her skill in the secret rites of the Egyptian magicians.
As they neared the queen's apartments, Clearchus was astonished to hear a woman's voice raised in anger, followed by the sound of blows and pitiful cries for mercy. He paused in embarrassment, but Philotas drew him on.
"Do not be disturbed," said his guide; "the queen is probably chastising one of her slaves."