Chapter 10

‘See that huge, tumbled pile of hewn stone over there in the field?’ Mencius pointed with his riding-whip. ‘That was the great fort where the Philistines made their last stand against Alexander.’

‘When was that?’ Voldi took no pride in his query.

‘Of course you know about the various victories of Alexander, all over the world,’ said Mencius.

‘Vaguely,’ mumbled Voldi, hoping he would not be required to bound or define the word.

‘Well—as you undoubtedly recall—he died about three hundred years ago, and this was one of his later conquests. The Philistines made a gallant defence. It ended—over there.’

They drew their horses to a stop and surveyed the ruins.

‘Those rocks do not appear to have been there so long,’ commented Voldi.

‘Granite does not deteriorate as rapidly as the people who quarry it,’ observed Mencius, half to himself. ‘To look about on the lousy cutthroats who now inhabit this region, one wouldn’t suspect that they are descendants of the brave fellows who built that fort and defended it until the last brave man was dead.’

‘It’s a wonder they haven’t hauled that rock-pile away to use in other buildings,’ reflected Voldi.

‘Oh—they will—sometime,’ soliloquized Mencius. ‘It is in the nature of nations,’ he went on dreamily, ‘to rise—and toil—and suffer—and prosper—and fatten—and fall.’ After a long pause he continued, ‘Then they lie prone in the dust until some strong man appears among them—and commands the old stones and the old bones to rise again. All that these rascally beggars need to put them on their feet is a great leader. He will come—some day. It always happens—in time. Destiny is in no hurry.’

‘Mencius, you have the mind of a prophet,’ said Voldi soberly. ‘Or are you just guessing?’

They spoke to their horses and rode on a little way before Mencius replied.

‘No, Voldi, I am not a prophet; nor am I guessing. The earth is a vast theatre with many stages on which companies of actors present the same old play—a tragedy in five acts. Sometimes the company puts it through to the end at breath-taking speed, if the man who enacts the principal role is very audacious and impetuous. You take Alexander, for example. That was a one-man show. He conquered the whole world, and when he died his Empire—as a military power—vanished overnight. There wasn’t enough left of his army to give police protection to his own town.’

‘I had thought that the Greeks held him in high honour,’ remarked Voldi.