He had but 5000 Spartans, and his only hope was in getting aid from Ptolemy the Benefactor, king of Egypt.  This was promised, but only on condition that he would send as hostages to Egypt his mother and babes. He was exceedingly grieved, and could not bear to tell his mother; but she saw his distress, and found out the cause from his friends.  She laughed in hopes of cheering him.  “Was this what you feared to tell me? Put me on board ship at once, and send this old carcase where it may be of the most use to Sparta.”  He escorted her, at the head of the whole army, to the promontory of Tænarus, where the temple of Neptune looks out into the sea.  In the temple they parted, Cleomenes weeping in such bitter sorrow that his mother’s spirit rose.  “Go to, king of Sparta,” she said.  “Without doors, let none see us weep, nor do anything contrary to the honour and dignity of Sparta.  That at least is in our own power, though, for the rest, success or failure depends on the gods.”  So she sailed away, and Cleomenes went back to do his part.  The Achaians had not only given Antigonus the title of Head of the League, but had set up his statues, and were giving him the divine honours that had been granted to Alexander and to Demetrius the City-taker.