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diff --git a/27587-tei/27587-tei.tei b/27587-tei/27587-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d645788 --- /dev/null +++ b/27587-tei/27587-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,14787 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?> +<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "http://www.gutenberg.org/tei/marcello/0.4/dtd/pgtei.dtd"> +<TEI.2 lang="en"> + <teiHeader> + <fileDesc> + <titleStmt> + <title>A Victor of Salamis</title> + <author><name reg="Davis, William Stearns">William Stearns Davis</name></author> + </titleStmt> + <editionStmt> + <edition n="1">Project Gutenberg TEI Edition 1</edition> + </editionStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date value="2008-12-22">December 22, 2008</date> + <idno type="etext-no">27587</idno> + <availability> + <p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project + Gutenberg License online at www.gutenberg.org/license</p> + </availability> + </publicationStmt> + <sourceDesc> + <bibl>Davis, William Stearns: A victor of Salamis : a tale of the days of Xerxes, + Leonidas and Themistocles. - New York : Macmillan, 1907</bibl> + </sourceDesc> + </fileDesc> + <encodingDesc> + <p>See Trancriber’s note at the back.</p> + </encodingDesc> + <profileDesc> + <langUsage> + <language id="en">English</language> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2008-12-22">December 22, 2008</date> + <respStmt> + <resp>Produced by Mark C. Orton, Linda McKeown, Stefan Cramme, and the Online Distributed + Proofreading Team at + <http://www.pgdp.net/c>.</resp> + </respStmt> + <item>Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1</item> + </change> + </revisionDesc> + </teiHeader> + <pgExtensions> + <pgStyleSheet> + .italic { font-style: italic } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + .center { text-align: center } + .right { text-align: right } + head {text-align: center } + lg { margin-left: 2; font-size: 80% } + </pgStyleSheet> + <!-- uncomment CharMap to directly output ISO 8859-1; replace "(two dashes)" in the first char + by the mentioned characters --> + <!--<pgCharMap formats="txt"> + <char id="U0x2014"> + <charName>mdash</charName> + <desc>EM DASH</desc> + <mapping>(two dashes)</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x113"> + <charName>emacr</charName> + <desc>LATIN SMALL LETTER E WITH MACRON</desc> + <mapping>e</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x14d"> + <charName>omacr</charName> + <desc>LATIN SMALL LETTER O WITH MACRON</desc> + <mapping>o</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x16b"> + <charName>umacr</charName> + <desc>LATIN SMALL LETTER U WITH MACRON</desc> + <mapping>u</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x391"> + <charName>Alpha</charName> + <mapping>A</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x393"> + <charName>Gamma</charName> + <mapping>G</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x399"> + <charName>Iota</charName> + <mapping>I</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x39a"> + <charName>Kappa</charName> + <mapping>K</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x39b"> + <charName>Lambda</charName> + <mapping>L</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x39d"> + <charName>Nu</charName> + <mapping>N</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x39e"> + <charName>Xi</charName> + <mapping>X</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x39f"> + <charName>Omicron</charName> + <mapping>O</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x3a3"> + <charName>Sigma</charName> + <mapping>S</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x3a4"> + <charName>Tau</charName> + <mapping>T</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x3a5"> + <charName>Ypsilon</charName> + <mapping>Y</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x3a6"> + <charName>Phi</charName> + <mapping>PH</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2009"> + <charName>thinsp</charName> + <desc>THIN SPACE</desc> + <mapping></mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2018"> + <charName>lsquo</charName> + <desc>LEFT SINGLE QUOTATION MARK</desc> + <mapping>'</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2019"> + <charName>rsquo</charName> + <desc>RIGHT SINGLE QUOTATION MARK</desc> + <mapping>'</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x201C"> + <charName>ldquo</charName> + <desc>LEFT DOUBLE QUOTATION MARK</desc> + <mapping>"</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x201D"> + <charName>rdquo</charName> + <desc>RIGHT DOUBLE QUOTATION MARK</desc> + <mapping>"</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x152"> + <charName>OElig</charName> + <desc>LATIN CAPITAL LIGATURE OE</desc> + <mapping>OE</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x153"> + <charName>oelig</charName> + <desc>LATIN SMALL LIGATURE OE</desc> + <mapping>oe</mapping> + </char> + </pgCharMap>--> + </pgExtensions> + <text lang="en"> + <front> + <div> + <divGen type="pgheader" /> + </div> + + <div> + <divGen type="encodingDesc" /> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgi"/> + <p rend="center; font-size: large"> A VICTOR OF SALAMIS </p> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgii"/> + <p rend="center">The MM Co.</p> + + </div> + <titlePage rend="center; page-break-before: right"> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgiii"/> + <docTitle> + <titlePart rend="font-size: xx-large">A VICTOR OF SALAMIS</titlePart> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <titlePart rend="font-size: large"><hi rend="italic">A TALE OF THE DAYS OF XERXES, + LEONIDAS AND THEMISTOCLES</hi></titlePart> + </docTitle> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <byline> BY <lb/><lb/> + <docAuthor rend="font-size: large">WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS</docAuthor> + <lb/><lb/> + <hi rend="font-size: small">AUTHOR OF “<bibl>A FRIEND OF CÆSAR</bibl>,” “<bibl>GOD WILLS + IT</bibl>,”<lb/> “<bibl>BELSHAZZAR</bibl>,” ETC.</hi> + </byline> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <epigraph rend="font-size: medium"> + <lg> + <l>“... On the Ægean shore a city stands,</l> + <l>Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil,</l> + <l>Athens, the eye of Greece.”</l> + </lg> + </epigraph> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <docImprint rend="center"><hi rend="font-weight: bold; font-size: large">New York</hi> + <lb/> + <hi rend="font-size: large">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</hi> + <lb/> LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. </docImprint> + <lb/> + <docDate rend="font-size: large; center">1907</docDate> + <lb/> + <titlePart rend="center"><hi rend="italic; font-size: small">All rights reserved</hi></titlePart> + </titlePage> + <div rend="center; page-break-before: always"> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgiv"/> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <hi rend="smallcaps">Copyright</hi>, 1907,<lb/> + <hi rend="smallcaps">By</hi> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. </p> + <milestone unit="tb" rend="rule: 10%"/> + <p rend="font-size: small"> Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1907. </p> + <lb/> + <lb/> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <hi rend="font-weight: bold">Norwood Press</hi><lb/> J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick + & Smith Co.<lb/> Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. </p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgv"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>AUTHOR’S NOTE</head> + <p> The invasion of Greece by Xerxes, with its battles of Thermopylæ, Salamis, and Platæa, + forms one of the most dramatic events in history. Had Athens and Sparta succumbed to this + attack of Oriental superstition and despotism, the Parthenon, the Attic Theatre, the + Dialogues of Plato, would have been almost as impossible as if Phidias, Sophocles, and the + philosophers had never lived. Because this contest and its heroes—Leonidas and + Themistocles—cast their abiding shadows across our world of to-day, I have attempted this + piece of historical fiction. </p> + <p> Many of the scenes were conceived on the fields of action themselves during a recent + visit to Greece, and I have tried to give some glimpse of the natural beauty of <q>The + Land of the Hellene,</q>—a beauty that will remain when Themistocles and his peers fade + away still further into the backgrounds of history. </p> + <signed> W. S. D. </signed> + <pb/> + <anchor id="Pgvi"/> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="vii"/> + <anchor id="Pgvii"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CONTENTS</head> + <table rend="tblcolumns: 'r lw(40m) r'; latexcolumns: 'rp{6.5cm}r'"> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center"><hi rend="font-size:large">PROLOGUE</hi></cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center">THE ISTHMIAN GAMES NEAR CORINTH</cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row> + <cell rend="right; font-size: x-small">CHAPTER</cell> + <cell/> + <cell rend="right; font-size: x-small">PAGE</cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">I. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Glaucon the Beautiful</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg003">3</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">II.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Athlete</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg010">10</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">III.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Hand of Persia</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg021">21</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">IV.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Pentathlon</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg031">31</ref></cell> + </row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center"><hi rend="font-size:large">BOOK I</hi></cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center">THE SHADOW OF THE PERSIAN</cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">V.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Hermione of Eleusis</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg051">51</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">VI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Athens</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg062">62</ref></cell> + </row> + + <row> + <cell rend="right">VII. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Democrates and the Tempter</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg074">74</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">VIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">On the Acropolis</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg084">84</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">IX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Cyprian Triumphs</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg095">95</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">X.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Democrates Resolves</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg106">106</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XI. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Panathenæa</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg116">116</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">A Traitor to Hellas</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg128">128</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Disloyalty of Phormio</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg141">141</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XIV.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Mardonius the Persian</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg152">152</ref></cell> + </row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center"><hi rend="font-size:large">BOOK II</hi></cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center">THE COMING OF THE PERSIAN</cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XV. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Lotus-eating at Sardis</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg165">165</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XVI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Coming of Xerxes the God-king</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg174">174</ref></cell> + </row> + <pb n="viii"/><anchor id="Pgviii"/> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XVII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Charming by Roxana</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg186">186</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XVIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Democrates’s Troubles Return</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg197">197</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XIX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Commandment of Xerxes</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg209">209</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Thermopylæ</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg219">219</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Three Hundred—and One</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg230">230</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXII. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Mardonius gives a Promise</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg243">243</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Darkest Hour</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg253">253</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXIV.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Evacuation of Athens</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg264">264</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXV.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Acropolis Flames</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg268">268</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXVI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Themistocles is Thinking</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg279">279</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXVII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Craft of Odysseus</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg287">287</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXVIII. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Before the Death Grapple</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg300">300</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXIX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Salamis</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg311">311</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Themistocles gives a Promise</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg329">329</ref></cell> + </row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center"><hi rend="font-size:large">BOOK III</hi></cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell/> + <cell rend="center">THE PASSING OF THE PERSIAN</cell> + <cell/></row> + <row><cell> </cell><cell/><cell/></row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Democrates Surrenders</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg333">333</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Stranger in Trœzene</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg343">343</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">What befell on the Hillside</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg350">350</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXIV.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Loyalty of Lampaxo</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg360">360</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXV. </cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">Moloch betrays the Phœnician</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg372">372</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXVI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Reading of the Riddle</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg388">388</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXVII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Race To Save Hellas</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg399">399</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right"> XXXVIII.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Council of Mardonius</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg418">418</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XXXIX.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Avenging of Leonidas</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg426">426</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XL.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Song of the Furies</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg438">438</ref></cell> + </row> + <row> + <cell rend="right">XLI.</cell> + <cell><hi rend="smallcaps">The Brightness of Helios</hi></cell> + <cell rend="right"><ref target="Pg445">445</ref></cell> + </row> + </table> + </div> + </front> + <body> + <div type="book" n="prologue" rend="page-break-before: right"> + <pb n="1"/> + <anchor id="Pg001"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>PROLOGUE</head> + <head type="sub"> THE ISTHMIAN GAMES NEAR CORINTH </head> + <pb n="2"/> + <anchor id="Pg002"/> + + <p rend="page-break-before: right; center; font-size: xx-large">A VICTOR OF SALAMIS </p> + <div type="chapter" n="1"> + <pb n="3"/> + <anchor id="Pg003"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER I</head> + <head type="sub"> GLAUCON THE BEAUTIFUL </head> + <p> The crier paused for the fifth time. The crowd—knotty Spartans, keen Athenians, + perfumed Sicilians—pressed his pulpit closer, elbowing for the place of vantage. Amid a + lull in their clamour the crier recommenced. </p> + <p> + <q>And now, men of Hellas, another time hearken. The sixth contestant in the pentathlon, + most honourable of the games held at the Isthmus, is Glaucon, son of Conon the + Athenian; his grandfather—</q> a jangling shout drowned him. </p> + <p> + <q>The most beautiful man in Hellas!</q> + <q>But an effeminate puppy!</q> + <q>Of the noble house of Alcmæon!</q> + <q>The family’s accursed!</q> + <q>A great god helps him—even Eros.</q> + <q>Ay—the fool married for mere love. He needs help. His father disinherited him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace, peace,</q> urged the crier; <q>I’ll tell all about him, as I have of the + others. Know then, my masters, that he loved, and won in marriage, Hermione, daughter + of Hermippus of Eleusis. Now Hermippus is Conon’s mortal enemy; therefore in great + wrath Conon disinherited his son,—but now, consenting to forgive him if he wins the + parsley crown in the pentathlon—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A safe promise,</q> interrupted a Spartan in broadest <pb n="4"/><anchor id="Pg004"/>Doric; <q>the pretty boy has no chance against Lycon, our Laconian giant.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Boaster!</q> retorted an Athenian. <q>Did not Glaucon bend open a horseshoe + yesterday?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Our Mœrocles did that,</q> called a Mantinean; whereupon the crier, foregoing his + long speech on Glaucon’s noble ancestry, began to urge the Athenians to show their + confidence by their wagers. </p> + <p> + <q>How much is staked that Glaucon can beat Ctesias of Epidaurus?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We don’t match our lion against mice!</q> roared the noisiest Athenian. </p> + <p> + <q>Or Amyntas of Thebes?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not Amyntas! Give us Lycon of Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon let it be,—how much is staked and by whom, that Glaucon of Athens, contending + for the first time in the great games, defeats Lycon of Sparta, twice victor at Nemea, + once at Delphi, and once at Olympia?</q> + </p> + <p> The second rush and outcry put the crier nearly at his wits’ end to record the wagers + that pelted him, and which testified how much confidence the numerous Athenians had in + their unproved champion. The brawl of voices drew newcomers from far and near. The + chariot race had just ended in the adjoining hippodrome; and the idle crowd, intent on a + new excitement, came surging up like waves. In such a whirlpool of tossing arms and + shoving elbows, he who was small of stature and short of breath stood a scanty chance of + getting close enough to the crier’s stand to have his wager recorded. Such, at least, + was the fate of a gray but dignified little man, who struggled vainly—even with risk to + his long linen chiton—to reach the front. </p> + <p> + <q>Ugh! ugh! Make way, good people,—Zeus confound you, brute of a Spartan, your big + sandals crush my toes <pb n="5"/><anchor id="Pg005"/>again! Can I never get near + enough to place my two minæ on that Glaucon?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Keep back, graybeard,</q> snapped the Spartan; <q>thank the god if you can hold your + money and not lose it, when Glaucon’s neck is wrung to-morrow.</q> Whereupon he lifted + his own voice with, <q>Thirty drachmæ to place on Lycon, Master Crier! So you have + it—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And two minæ on Glaucon,</q> piped the little man, peering up with bright, beady + eyes; but the crier would never have heard him, save for a sudden ally. </p> + <p> + <q>Who wants to stake on Glaucon?</q> burst in a hearty young Athenian who had wagered + already. <q>You, worthy sir? Then by Athena’s owls they shall hear you! Lend us your + elbow, Democrates.</q> + </p> + <p> The latter request was to a second young Athenian close by. With his stalwart helpers + thrusting at either side, the little man was soon close to the crier. </p> + <p> + <q>Two minæ?</q> quoth the latter, leaning, <q>two that Glaucon beats Lycon, and at even + odds? But your name, sir—</q> + </p> + <p> The little man straightened proudly. </p> + <p> + <q>Simonides of Ceos.</q> + </p> + <p> The crowd drew back by magic. The most bristling Spartan grew respectful. The crier + bowed as his ready stylus made the entry. </p> + <p> + <q>Simonides of Ceos, Simonides the most noted poet in Hellas!</q> cried the first of + his two rescuers; <q>it’s a great honour to have served so famous a man. Pray let me + take your hand.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>With all the joy in the world.</q> The little poet coloured with delight at the + flattery. <q>You have saved me, I avow, from the forge and anvil of Hephæstus. What a + vulgar mob! Do stand apart; then I can try to thank you.</q> + </p> + <p> Aided again by his two protectors, Simonides was soon <pb n="6"/><anchor id="Pg006"/>clear of the whirlpool. Under one of the graceful pines, which girded the long + stadium, he recovered breath and looked at leisure upon his new acquaintances. Both were + striking men, but in sharp contrast: the taller and darker showed an aquiline visage + betraying a strain of non-Grecian blood. His black eyes and large mouth were very merry. + He wore his green chiton with a rakishness that proved him anything but a dandy. His + companion, addressed as Democrates, slighter, blonder, showed Simonides a handsome and + truly Greek profile, set off by a neatly trimmed reddish beard. His purple-edged cloak + fell in statuesque folds of the latest mode, his beryl signet-ring, scarlet fillet, and + jewelled <anchor id="corr006"/><corr sic="gridle">girdle</corr> bespoke wealth and taste. His face, too, might + have seemed frank and affable, had not Simonides suddenly recalled an old proverb about + mistrusting a man with eyes too close together. </p> + <p> + <q>And now,</q> said the little poet, quite as ready to pay compliments as to take them, + <q>let me thank my noble deliverers, for I am sure two such valorous young men as you + must come of the best blood of Attica.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am not ashamed of my father, sir,</q> spoke the taller Athenian; <q>Hellas has not + yet forgotten Miltiades, the victor of Marathon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then I clasp the hand of Cimon, the son of the saviour of Hellas.</q> The little + poet’s eyes danced. <q>Oh! the pity I was in Thessaly so long, and let you grow up in my + absence. A noble son of a noble father! And your friend—did you name him + Democrates?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I did so.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fortunate old rascal I am! For I meet Cimon the son of Miltiades, and Democrates, + that young lieutenant of Themistocles who all the world knows is gaining fame already + as Nestor and Odysseus, both in one, among the orators of Athens.</q> + </p> + <pb n="7"/> + <anchor id="Pg007"/> + <p> + <q>Your compliments exceed all truth,</q> exclaimed the second Athenian, not at all + angered by the praise. But Simonides, whose tongue was brisk, ran on with a torrent of + flattery and of polite insinuation, until Cimon halted him, with a query. </p> + <p> + <q>Yet why, dear Cean, since, as you say, you only arrived this afternoon at the + Isthmus, were you so anxious to stake that money on Glaucon?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why? Because I, like all Greece outside of Sparta, seem to be turning Glaucon-mad. + All the way from Thessaly—in Bœotia, in Attica, in Megara—men talked of him, his + beauty, his prowess, his quarrel with his father, his marriage with Hermione, the + divinest maiden in Athens, and how he has gone to the games to win both the crown and + crusty Conon’s forgiveness. I tell you, every mule-driver along the way seemed to have + staked his obol on him. They praise him as <q>fair as Delian Apollo,</q> + <q>graceful as young Hermes,</q> and—here I wonder most,—<q>modest as an unwedded + girl.</q></q> Simonides drew breath, then faced the others earnestly, <q>You are + Athenians; do you know him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Know him?</q> Cimon laughed heartily; <q>have we not left him at the wrestling + ground? Was not Democrates his schoolfellow once, his second self to-day? And touching + his beauty, his valour, his modesty,</q> the young man’s eyes shone with loyal + enthusiasm, <q>do not say <q>over-praised</q> till you have seen him.</q> + </p> + <p> Simonides swelled with delight. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, lucky genius that cast me with you! Take me to him this moment.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He is so beset with admirers, his trainers are angry already; besides, he is still at + the wrestling ground.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But soon returns to his tents,</q> added Democrates, instantly; <q>and Simonides—is + Simonides. If Themistocles <pb n="8"/><anchor id="Pg008"/>and Leonidas can see + Glaucon, so must the first poet of Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>O dearest orator,</q> cried the little man, with an arm around his neck, <q>I begin + to love you already. Away this moment, that I may worship your new divinity.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Come, then,</q> commanded Cimon, leading off with strides so long the bard could + hardly follow; <q>his tent is not distant: you shall see him, though the trainers change + to Gorgons.</q> + </p> + <p> The <q>Precinct of Poseidon,</q> the great walled enclosure where were the temples, + porticos, and the stadium of the Isthmus, was quickly behind them. They walked eastward + along the <anchor id="corr008"/><corr sic="seashore">sea-shore</corr>. The scene about was + brisk enough, had they heeded. A dozen chariots + passed. Under every tall pine along the way stood merchants’ booths, each with a goodly + crowd. Now a herd of brown goats came, the offering of a pious Phocian; now a band of + Aphrodite’s priestesses from Corinth whirled by in no overdecorous dance, to a deafening + noise of citharas and castanets. A soft breeze was sending the brown-sailed fisher boats + across the heaving bay. Straight before the three spread the white stuccoed houses of + Cenchræa, the eastern haven of Corinth; far ahead in smooth semicircle rose the green + crests of the Argive mountains, while to their right upreared the steep lonely pyramid + of brown rock, Acro-Corinthus, the commanding citadel of the thriving city. But above, + beyond these, fairer than them all, spread the clear, sun-shot azure of Hellas, the like + whereof is not over any other land, save as that land is girt by the crisp foam of the + blue Ægean Sea. </p> + <p> So much for the picture, but Simonides, having seen it often, saw it not at all, but + plied the others with questions. </p> + <p> + <q>So this Hermione of his is beautiful?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam.</q> The answer <pb n="9"/><anchor id="Pg009"/>came from Democrates, who seemed to look away, avoiding the poet’s keen + glance. </p> + <p> + <q>And yet her father gave her to the son of his bitter enemy?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hermippus of Eleusis is sensible. It is a fine thing to have the handsomest man in + Hellas for son-in-law.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And now to the great marvel—did Glaucon truly seek her not for dowry, nor rank, but + for sheer love?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Marriages for love are in fashion to-day,</q> said Democrates, with a side glance at + Cimon, whose sister Elpinice had just made a love match with Callias the Rich, to the + scandal of all the prudes in Athens. </p> + <p> + <q>Then I meet marvels even in my old age. Another Odysseus and his Penelope! And he is + handsome, valiant, high-minded, with a wife his peer? You raise my hopes too high. + They will be dashed.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>They will not,</q> protested Democrates, with every sign of loyalty; <q>turn here: + this lane in the pines leads to his tent. If we have praised too much, doom us to the + labours of Tantalus.</q> + </p> + <p> But here their progress was stopped. A great knot of people were swarming about a + statue under a pine tree, and shrill, angry voices proclaimed not trafficking, but a + brawl. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="2" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="10"/> + <anchor id="Pg010"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER II</head> + <head type="sub"> THE ATHLETE </head> + <p> There was ceaseless coming and going outside the Precinct of Poseidon. Following much + the same path just taken by Simonides and his new friends, two other men were walking, + so deep in talk that they hardly heeded how many made respectful way for them, or how + many greeted them. The taller and younger man, to be sure, returned every salute with a + graceful flourish of his hands, but in a mechanical way, and with eye fixed on his + companion. </p> + <p> The pair were markedly contrasted. The younger was in his early prime, strong, well + developed, and daintily dressed. His gestures were quick and eloquent. His brown beard + and hair were trimmed short to reveal a clear olive face—hardly regular, but expressive + and tinged with an extreme subtilty. When he laughed, in a strange, silent way, it was + to reveal fine teeth, while his musical tongue ran on, never waiting for answer. </p> + <p> His comrade, however, answered little. He barely rose to the other’s shoulder, but he + had the chest and sinews of an ox. Graces there were none. His face was a scarred + ravine, half covered by scanty stubble. The forehead was low. The eyes, gray and wise, + twinkled from tufted eyebrows. The long gray hair was tied about his forehead in a braid + and held by a golden circlet. The <q>chlamys</q> around his <pb n="11"/><anchor id="Pg011"/>hips was purple but dirty. To his companion’s glib Attic he returned only + Doric monosyllables. </p> + <p> + <q>Thus I have explained: if my plans prosper; if Corcyra and Syracuse send aid; if + Xerxes has trouble in provisioning his army, not merely can we resist Persia, but + conquer with ease. Am I too sanguine, Leonidas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We shall see.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No doubt Xerxes will find his fleet untrustworthy. The Egyptian sailors hate the + Phœnicians. Therefore we can risk a sea fight.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No rashness, Themistocles.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes—it is dicing against the Fates, and the stake is the freedom of Hellas. Still a + battle must be risked. If we quit ourselves bravely, our names shall be remembered as + long as Agamemnon’s.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Or Priam’s?—his Troy was sacked.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you, my dear king of Sparta, will of course move heaven and earth to have your + Ephors and Council somewhat more forward than of late in preparing for war? We all + count on you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I will try.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who can ask more? But now make an end to statecraft. We were speaking about the + pentathlon and the chances of—</q> + </p> + <p> Here the same brawling voices that had arrested Simonides broke upon Themistocles and + Leonidas also. The cry <q>A fight!</q> was producing its inevitable result. Scores of + men, and those not the most aristocratic, were running pell-mell whither so many had + thronged already. In the confusion scant reverence was paid the king of Sparta and the + first statesman of Athens, who were thrust unceremoniously aside and were barely + witnesses of what followed. </p> + <pb n="12"/> + <anchor id="Pg012"/> + <p> The outcry was begun, after-report had it, by a Sicyonian bronze-dealer finding a + small but valuable lamp missing from the table whereon he showed his wares. Among the + dozen odd persons pressing about the booth his eye singled out a slight, handsome boy in + Oriental dress; and since Syrian serving-lads were proverbially light-fingered, the + Sicyonian jumped quickly at his conclusion. </p> + <p> + <q>Seize the Barbarian thief!</q> had been his shout as he leaped and snatched the + alleged culprit’s mantle. The boy escaped easily by the frailness of his dress, which + tore in the merchant’s hands; but a score of bystanders seized the fugitive and dragged + him back to the Sicyonian, whose order to <q>search!</q> would have been promptly + obeyed; but at this instant he stumbled over the missing lamp on the ground before the + table, whence probably it had fallen. The bronze-dealer was now mollified, and would + willingly have released the lad, but a Spartan bystander was more zealous. </p> + <p> + <q>Here’s a Barbarian thief and spy!</q> he began bellowing; <q>he dropped the lamp when + he was detected! Have him to the temple and to the wardens of the games!</q> + </p> + <p> The magic word <q>spy</q> let loose the tongues and passions of every man within + hearing. The unfortunate lad was seized again and jostled rudely, while questions + rattled over him like hailstones. </p> + <p> + <q>Whose slave are you? Why here? Where’s your master? Where did you get that outlandish + dress and gold-laced turban? Confess, confess,—or it’ll be whipped out of you! What + <sic>villany</sic> are you up to?</q> + </p> + <p> If the prisoner had understood Greek,—which was doubtful,—he could scarce have + comprehended this babel. He struggled vainly; tears started to his eyes. Then he + committed a blunder. Not attempting a protest, he thrust <pb n="13"/><anchor id="Pg013"/>a small hand into his crimson belt and drew forth a handful of gold as bribe for + release. </p> + <p> + <q>A slave with ten darics!</q> bawled the officious Spartan, never relaxing his grip. + <q>Hark you, friends, it’s plain as day. Dexippus of Corinth has a Syrian lad like + this. The young scoundrel’s robbed his master and is running away.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That’s it! A runaway! To the temple with him!</q> chimed a dozen. The prisoner’s + outcries were drowned. He would have been swept off in ungentle custody had not a strong + hand intervened in his favor. </p> + <p> + <q>A moment, good citizens,</q> called a voice in clear Attic. <q>Release this lad. I + know Dexippus’s slave; he’s no such fellow.</q> + </p> + <p> The others, low-browed Spartans mostly, turned, ill-pleased at the interruption of an + Athenian, but shrank a step as a name went among them. </p> + <p> + <q>Castor and Pollux—it’s Glaucon the Beautiful!</q> + </p> + <p> With two thrusts of impetuous elbows, the young man was at the assailed lad’s side. + The newcomer was indeed a sight for gods. Beauty and power seemed wholly met in a figure + of perfect symmetry and strength. A face of fine regularity, a chiselled profile, smooth + cheeks, deep blue eyes, a crown of closely cropped auburn hair, a chin neither weak nor + stern, a skin burnt brown by the sun of the wrestling schools—these were parts of the + picture, and the whole was how much fairer than any part! Aroused now, he stood with + head cast back and a scarlet cloak shaking gracefully from his shoulders. </p> + <p> + <q>Unhand the lad!</q> he repeated. </p> + <p> For a moment, compelled by his beauty, the Spartans yielded. The Oriental pressed + against his protector; but the affair was not to end so easily. </p> + <p> + <q>Hark you, Sir Athenian,</q> rejoined the Spartan leader, <pb n="14"/><anchor id="Pg014"/><q>don’t presume on your good looks. Our Lycon will mar them all + to-morrow. Here’s Dexippus’s slave or else a Barbarian spy: in either case to the + temple with him, and don’t you hinder.</q> + </p> + <p> He plucked at the boy’s girdle; but the athlete extended one slim hand, seized the + Spartan’s arm, and with lightning dexterity laid the busybody flat on Mother Earth. He + staggered upward, raging and calling on his fellows. </p> + <p> + <q>Sparta insulted by Athens! Vengeance, men of Lacedæmon! Fists! Fists!</q> + </p> + <p> The fate of the Oriental was forgotten in the storm of patriotic fury that followed. + Fortunately no one had a weapon. Half a dozen burly Laconians precipitated themselves + without concert or order upon the athlete. He was hidden a moment in the rush of + flapping gowns and tossing arms. Then like a rock out of the angry sea shone his golden + head, as he shook off the attack. Two men were on their backs, howling. The others stood + at respectful distance, cursing and meditating another rush. An Athenian pottery + merchant from a neighbouring booth began trumpeting through his hands. </p> + <p> + <q>Men of Athens, this way!</q> + </p> + <p> His numerous countrymen came scampering from far and wide. Men snatched up stones and + commenced snapping off pine boughs for clubs. The athlete, centre of all this din, stood + smiling, with his glorious head held high, his eyes alight with the mere joy of battle. + He held out his arms. Both pose and face spoke as clearly as words,—<q>Prove me!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Sparta is insulted. Away with the braggart!</q> the Laconians were clamouring. The + Athenians answered in kind. Already a dark sailor was drawing a dirk. Everything + promised broken heads, and perhaps blood, when Leonidas <pb n="15"/><anchor id="Pg015"/>and his friend,—by laying about them with their staves,—won their way to the front. + The king dashed his staff upon the shoulder of a strapping Laconian who was just hurling + himself on Glaucon. </p> + <p> + <q>Fools! Hold!</q> roared Leonidas, and the moment the throng saw what newcomers they + faced, Athenian and Spartan let their arms drop and stood sheepish and silent. + Themistocles instantly stepped forward and held up his hand. His voice, trumpet-clear, + rang out among the pines. In three sentences he dissolved the tumult. </p> + <p> + <q>Fellow-Hellenes, do not let Dame Discord make sport of you. I saw all that befell. It + is only an unlucky misunderstanding. You are quite satisfied, I am sure, Master + Bronze-Dealer?</q> + </p> + <p> The Sicyonian, who saw in a riot the ruin of his evening’s trade, nodded gladly. </p> + <p> + <q>He says there was no thieving, and he is entirely satisfied. He thanks you for your + friendly zeal. The Oriental was not Dexippus’s slave, and Xerxes does not need such + boys for spies. I am certain Glaucon would not insult Sparta. So let us part without + bad blood, and await the judgment of the god in the contest to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> Not a voice answered him. The crash of music from the sacrificial embassy of Syracuse + diverted everybody’s attention; most of the company streamed away to follow the + flower-decked chariots and cattle back to the temple. Themistocles and Leonidas were + left almost alone to approach the athlete. </p> + <p> + <q>You are ever Glaucon the Fortunate,</q> laughed Themistocles; <q>had we not chanced + this way, what would not have befallen?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, it was delightful,</q> rejoined the athlete, his eyes still kindled; <q>the + shock, the striving, the putting one’s own <pb n="16"/><anchor id="Pg016"/>strength + and will against many and feeling <q>I am the stronger.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Delightful, no doubt</q> replied the statesman, <q>though Zeus spare me fighting one + against ten! But what god possessed you to meddle in this brawl, and imperil all + chances for to-morrow?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I was returning from practice at the palæstra. I saw the lad beset and knew he was + not Dexippus’s slave. I ran to help him. I thought no more about it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And risked everything for a sly-eyed Oriental. Where is the rascal?</q> + </p> + <p> But the lad—author of the commotion—had disappeared completely. </p> + <p> + <q>Behold his fair gratitude to his rescuer,</q> cried Themistocles, sourly, and then he + turned to Leonidas. <q>Well, very noble king of Sparta, you were asking to see Glaucon + and judge his chances in the pentathlon. Your Laconians have just proved him; are you + satisfied?</q> + </p> + <p> But the king, without a word of greeting, ran his eyes over the athlete from head to + heel, then blurted out his verdict: </p> + <p> + <q>Too pretty.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon blushed like a maid. Themistocles threw up his hands in deprecation. </p> + <p> + <q>But were not Achilles and many another hero beautiful as brave? Does not Homer call + them so many times <q>godlike</q>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Poetry doesn’t win the pentathlon,</q> retorted the king; then suddenly he seized the + athlete’s right arm near the shoulder. The muscles cracked. Glaucon did not wince. The + king dropped the arm with a <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi></q> then extended his own + hand, the fingers half closed, and ordered, <q>Open.</q> + </p> + <p> One long minute, just as Simonides and his companions <pb n="17"/><anchor id="Pg017"/>approached, Athenian and Spartan stood face to face, hand locked in hand, while + Glaucon’s forehead grew redder, not with blushing. Then blood rushed to the king’s brow + also. His fingers were crimson. They had been forced open. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi></q> cried the king, again; then, to Themistocles, <q>He + will do.</q> + </p> + <p> Whereupon, as if satisfied in his object and averse to further dalliance, he gave + Cimon and his companions the stiffest of nods and deliberately turned on his heel. + Speech was too precious coin for him to be wasted on mere adieus. Only over his shoulder + he cast at Glaucon a curt mandate. </p> + <p> + <q>I hate Lycon. Grind his bones.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles, however, lingered a moment to greet Simonides. The little poet was + delighted, despite overweening hopes, at the manly beauty yet modesty of the athlete, + and being a man who kept his thoughts always near his tongue, made Glaucon blush more + manfully than ever. </p> + <p> + <q>Master Simonides is overkind,</q> had ventured the athlete; <q>but I am sure his + praise is only polite compliment.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What misunderstanding!</q> ran on the poet. <q>How you pain me! I truly desired to + ask a question. Is it not a great delight to know that so many people are gladdened + just by looking on you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>How dare I answer? If <q>no,</q> I contradict you—very rude. If <q>yes,</q> I praise + myself—far ruder.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Cleverly turned. The face of Paris, the strength of Achilles, the wit of Periander, + all met in one body;</q> but seeing the athlete’s confusion more profound than ever, + the Cean cut short. <q>Heracles! if my tongue wounds you, lo! it’s clapped back in its + sheath; I’ll be revenged in an ode of fifty iambs on your victory. For that you will + conquer, neither <pb n="18"/><anchor id="Pg018"/>I nor any sane man in Hellas has the + least doubt. Are you not confident, dear Athenian?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am confident in the justice of the gods, noble Simonides,</q> said the athlete, + half childishly, half in deep seriousness. </p> + <p> + <q>Well you may be. The gods are usually <q>just</q> to such as you. It’s we graybeards + that Tyche, <q>Lady Fortune,</q> grows tired of helping.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Perhaps!</q> Glaucon passed his hand across his eyes with a dreamy gesture. <q>Yet + sometimes I almost say, <q>Welcome a misfortune, if not too terrible,</q> just to ward + off the god’s jealousy of too great prosperity. In all things, save my father’s anger, + I have prospered. To-morrow I can appease that, too. Yet you know Solon’s saying, <q>Call no man fortunate till he is dead.</q></q> + </p> + <p> Simonides was charmed at this frank confession on first acquaintance. <q>Yes, but even + one of the Seven Sages can err.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not know. I only hope—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hush, Glaucon,</q> admonished Democrates. <q>There’s no worse dinner before a contest + than one of flighty thoughts. When safe in Athens—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In Eleusis you mean,</q> corrected the athlete. </p> + <p> + <q>Pest take you,</q> cried Cimon; <q>you say Eleusis because there is Hermione. But + make this day-dreaming end ere you come to grips with Lycon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He will awaken,</q> smiled Themistocles. Then, with another gracious nod to + Simonides, the statesman hastened after Leonidas, leaving the three young men and the + poet to go to Glaucon’s tent in the pine grove. </p> + <p> + <q>And why should Leonidas wish Glaucon to grind the bones of the champion of + Sparta?</q> asked Cimon, curiously. </p> + <p> + <q>Quickly answered,</q> replied Simonides, who knew half <pb n="19"/><anchor id="Pg019"/>the persons of the nobility in Hellas; <q>first, Lycon is of the rival + kingly house at Sparta; second, he’s suspected of <q>Medizing,</q> of favouring + Persia.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’ve heard that story of <q>Medizing,</q></q> interrupted Democrates, promptly; <q>I + can assure you it is not true.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Enough if he’s suspected,</q> cried the uncompromising son of Miltiades; <q>honest + Hellenes should not even be blown upon in times like this. Another reason then for + hating him—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace!</q> ordered Glaucon, as if starting from a long revery, and with a sweep of + his wonderful hands; <q>let the Medes, the Persians, and their war wait. For me the only + war is the pentathlon,—and then by Zeus’s favour the victory, the glory, the return + to Eleusis! Ah—wish me joy!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Verily, the man is mad,</q> reflected the poet; <q>he lives in his own bright world, + sufficient to himself. May Zeus never send storms to darken it! For to bear disaster + his soul seems never made.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> At the tent Manes, the athlete’s body-servant, came running to his master, with a + small box firmly bound. </p> + <p> + <q>A strange dark man brought this only a moment since. It is for Master Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> On opening there was revealed a bracelet of Egyptian turquoise; the price thereof + Simonides wisely set at two minæ. Nothing betrayed the identity of the giver save a slip + of papyrus written in Greek, but in very uncertain hand. <q><hi rend="italic">To the + Beautiful Champion of Athens: from one he has greatly served.</hi></q> + </p> + <p> Cimon held the bracelet on high, admiring its perfect lustre. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles was wrong,</q> he remarked; <q>the Oriental <pb n="20"/><anchor id="Pg020"/>was not ungrateful. But what <q>slave</q> or <q>lad</q> was this that + Glaucon succoured?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Perhaps,</q> insinuated Simonides, <q>Themistocles was wrong yet again. Who knows if + a stranger giving such gifts be not sent forth by Xerxes?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t chatter foolishness,</q> commanded Democrates, almost peevishly; but Glaucon + replaced the bracelet in the casket. </p> + <p> + <q>Since the god sends this, I will rejoice in it,</q> he declared lightly. <q>A fair + omen for to-morrow, and it will shine rarely on Hermione’s arm.</q> The mention of + that lady called forth new protests from Cimon, but he in turn was interrupted, for a + half-grown boy had entered the tent and stood beckoning to Democrates. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="3" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="21"/> + <anchor id="Pg021"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER III</head> + <head type="sub"> THE HAND OF PERSIA </head> + <p> The lad who sidled up to Democrates was all but a hunchback. His bare arms were + grotesquely tattooed, clear sign that he was a Thracian. His eyes twinkled keenly, + uneasily, as in token of an almost sinister intelligence. What he whispered to + Democrates escaped the rest, but the latter began girding up his cloak. </p> + <p> + <q>You leave us, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>?</q> cried Glaucon. <q>Would I not + have all my friends with me to-night, to fill me with fair thoughts for the morrow? + Bid your ugly Bias keep away!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A greater friend than even Glaucon the Alcmæonid commands me hence,</q> said the + orator, smiling. </p> + <p> + <q>Declare his name.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Declare <hi rend="italic">her</hi> name,</q> cried Simonides, viciously. </p> + <p> + <q>Noble Cean, then I say I serve a most beautiful, high-born dame. Her name is + Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Curses on your public business,</q> lamented Glaucon. <q>But off with you, since your + love is the love of us all.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates kissed the athlete on both cheeks. <q>I leave you to faithful guardians. + Last night I dreamed of a garland of lilies, sure presage of a victory. So take + courage.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Chaire! chaire!</hi></q><note place="foot">A word conveying at once + <q>welcome!</q> and <q>farewell!</q></note> called the rest; and Democrates left the + tent to follow the slave-boy. </p> + <p> Evening was falling: the sea, rocks, fields, pine groves, <pb n="22"/><anchor id="Pg022"/>were touched by the red glow dying behind Acro-Corinthus. Torches gleamed + amid the trees where the multitudes were buying, selling, wagering, making merry. All + Greece seemed to have sent its wares to be disposed of at the Isthmia. Democrates idled + along, now glancing at the huckster who displayed his painted clay dolls and urged the + sightseers to remember the little ones at home. A wine-seller thrust a sample cup of a + choice vintage under the Athenian’s nose, and vainly adjured him to buy. Thessalian + easy-chairs, pottery, slaves kidnapped from the Black Sea, occupied one booth after + another. On a pulpit before a bellowing crowd a pair of marionettes were rolling their + eyes and gesticulating, as a woman pulled the strings. </p> + <p> But there were more exalted entertainments. A rhapsodist stood on a pine stump + chanting in excellent voice Alcæus’s hymn to Apollo. And more willingly the orator + stopped on the edge of a throng of the better sort, which listened to a man of noble + aspect reading in clear voice from his scroll. </p> + <p> + <q>Æschylus of Athens,</q> whispered a bystander. <q>He reads choruses of certain + tragedies he says he will perfect and produce much later.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates knew the great dramatist well, but what he read was new—a <q>Song of the + Furies</q> calling a terrific curse upon the betrayer of friendship. <q>Some of his + happiest lines,</q> meditated Democrates, walking away, to be held a moment by the + crowd around Lamprus the master-harpist. But now, feeling that he had dallied long + enough, the orator turned his back on the two female acrobats who were swinging on a + trapeze and struck down a long, straight road which led toward the distant cone of + Acro-Corinthus. First, however, he turned on Bias, who all the time had been + accompanying, dog-fashion. </p> + <p> + <q>You say he is waiting at Hegias’s inn?</q> + </p> + <pb n="23"/> + <anchor id="Pg023"/> + <p> + <q>Yes, master. It’s by the temple of Bellerophon, just as you begin to enter the + city.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Good! I don’t want to ask the way. Now catch this obol and be off.</q> + </p> + <p> The boy snatched the flying coin and glided into the crowd. </p> + <p> Democrates walked briskly out of the glare of the torches, then halted to slip the + hood of his cloak up about his face. </p> + <p> + <q>The road is dark, but the wise man shuns accidents,</q> was his reflection, as he + strode in the direction pointed by Bias. </p> + <p> The way was dark. No moon; and even the brilliant starlight of summer in Hellas is an + uncertain guide. Democrates knew he was traversing a long avenue lined by spreading + cypresses, with a shimmer of white from some tall, sepulchral monument. Then through the + dimness loomed the high columns of a temple, and close beside it pale light spread out + upon the road as from an inn. </p> + <p> + <q>Hegias’s inn,</q> grumbled the Athenian. <q>Zeus grant it have no more fleas than + most inns of Corinth!</q> + </p> + <p> At sound of his footsteps the door opened promptly, without knocking. A squalid scene + revealed itself,—a white-washed room, an <anchor id="corr023"/><corr sic="earthern">earthen</corr> floor, two clay lamps on a low table, + a few stools,—but a tall, lean man in Oriental dress greeted the Athenian with a salaam + which showed his own gold earrings, swarthy skin, and black mustache. </p> + <p> + <q>Fair greetings, Hiram,</q> spoke the orator, no wise amazed, <q>and where is your + master?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>At service,</q> came a deep voice from a corner, so dark that Democrates had not seen + the couch where lolled an ungainly figure that now rose clumsily. </p> + <p> + <q>Hail, Democrates.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hail, Lycon.</q> + </p> + <pb n="24"/> + <anchor id="Pg024"/> + <p> Hand joined in hand; then Lycon ordered the Oriental to <q>fetch the noble Athenian + some good <anchor id="corr024"/><corr sic="Thacian">Thasian</corr> wine.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You will join me?</q> urged the orator. </p> + <p> + <q>Alas! no. I am still in training. Nothing but cheese and porridge till after the + victory to-morrow; but then, by Castor, I’ll enjoy <q>the gentleman’s disease</q>—a + jolly drunkenness.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then you are sure of victory to-morrow?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Good Democrates, what god has tricked you into believing your fine Athenian has a + chance?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have seven minæ staked on Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Seven staked in the presence of your friends; how many in their absence?</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates reddened. He was glad the room was dark. <q>I am not here to quarrel about + the pentathlon,</q> he said emphatically. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, very well. Leave your dear sparrow to my gentle hands.</q> The Spartan’s huge + paws closed significantly: <q>Here’s the wine. Sit and drink. And you, Hiram, get to + your corner.</q> + </p> + <p> The Oriental silently squatted in the gloom, the gleam of his beady eyes just visible. + Lycon sat on a stool beside his guest, his Cyclops-like limbs sprawling down upon the + floor. Scarred and brutish, indeed, was his face, one ear missing, the other beaten flat + by boxing gloves; but Democrates had a distinct feeling that under his battered visage + and wiry black hair lurked greater penetration of human motive and more ability to play + therewith than the chance observer might allow. The Athenian deliberately waited his + host’s first move. </p> + <p> + <q>The wine is good, Democrates?</q> began Lycon. </p> + <p> + <q>Excellent.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I presume you have arranged your wagers to-morrow with your usual prudence.</q> + </p> + <pb n="25"/> + <anchor id="Pg025"/> + <p> + <q>How do you know about them?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, my invaluable Hiram, who arranged this interview for us through Bias, has made + himself a brother to all the betting masters. I understand you have arranged it so + that whether Glaucon wins or loses you will be none the poorer.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian set down his cup. </p> + <p> + <q>Because I would not let my dear friend’s sanguine expectations blind all my judgment + is no reason why you should seek this interview, Lycon,</q> he rejoined tartly. <q>If + this is the object of your summons, I’m better back in my own tent.</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon tilted back against the table. His speech was nothing curt or <q>Laconic</q>; it + was even drawling. <q>On the contrary, dear Democrates, I was only commending your + excellent foresight, something that I see characterizes all you do. You are the friend + of Glaucon. Since Aristeides has been banished, only Themistocles exceeds you in + influence over the Athenians. Therefore, as a loyal Athenian you must support your + champion. Likewise, as a man of judgment you must see that I—though this pentathlon + is only a by-play, not my business—will probably break your Glaucon’s back to-morrow. + It is precisely this good judgment on your part which makes me sure I do well to ask + an interview—for something else.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then quickly to business.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A few questions. I presume Themistocles to-day conferred with Leonidas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I wasn’t present with them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But in due time Themistocles will tell you everything?</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates chewed his beard, not answering. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Pheu!</hi> you don’t pretend Themistocles distrusts you?</q> cried + the Spartan. </p> + <p> + <q>I don’t like your questions, Lycon.</q> + </p> + <pb n="26"/> + <anchor id="Pg026"/> + <p> + <q>I am very sorry. I’ll cease them. I only wished to-night to call to your mind the + advantage of two such men as you and I becoming friends. I may be king of Lacedæmon + before long.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I knew that before, but where’s your chariot driving?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Athenian, the Persian chariot is now driving toward Hellas. We cannot halt it. + Then let us be so wise that it does not pass over us.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hush!</q> Democrates spilled the cup as he started. <q>No <q>Medizing</q> talk before + me. Am I not Themistocles’s friend?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles and Leonidas will seem valiant fools after Xerxes comes. Men of + foresight—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Are never traitors.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Beloved Democrates,</q> sneered the Spartan, <q>in one year the most patriotic + Hellene will be he who has made the Persian yoke the most endurable. Don’t blink at + destiny.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t be overcertain.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t grow deaf and blind. Xerxes has been collecting troops these four years. Every + wind across the Ægean tells how the Great King assembles millions of soldiers, + thousands of ships: Median cavalry, Assyrian archers, Egyptian battle-axemen—the best + troops in the world. All the East will be marching on our poor Hellas. And when has + Persia failed to conquer?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>At Marathon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A drop of rain before the tempest! If Datis, the Persian general, had only been more + prudent!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Clearly, noblest Lycon,</q> said Democrates, with a satirical smile, <q>for a + taciturn Laconian to become thus eloquent for tyranny must have taken a bribe of ten + thousand gold darics.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But answer my arguments.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Well—the old oracle is proved: <q>Base love of gain and naught else shall bear sore + destruction to Sparta.</q></q> + </p> + <pb n="27"/> + <anchor id="Pg027"/> + <p> + <q>That doesn’t halt Xerxes’s advance.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>An end to your croakings,</q>—Democrates was becoming angry,—<q>I know the + Persian’s power well enough. Now why have you summoned me?</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon looked on his visitor long and hard. He reminded the Athenian disagreeably of a + huge cat just considering whether a mouse were near enough to risk a spring. </p> + <p> + <q>I sent for you because I wished you to give a pledge.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’m in no mood to give it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You need not refuse. Giving or withholding the fate of Hellas will not be altered, + save as you wish to make it so.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What must I promise?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That you will not reveal the presence in Greece of a man I intend to set before + you.</q> Another silence. Democrates knew even then, if vaguely, that he was making a + decision on which might hinge half his future. In the after days he looked back on this + instant with unspeakable regret. But the Laconian sat before him, smiling, sneering, + commanding by his more dominant will. The Athenian answered, it seemed, despite + himself:— </p> + <p> + <q>If it is not to betray Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It is not.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then I promise.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Swear it then by your native Athena.</q> + </p> + <p> And Democrates—perhaps the wine was strong—lifted his right hand and swore by Athena + Polias of Athens he would betray no secret. </p> + <p> Lycon arose with what was part bellow, part laugh. Even then the orator was moved to + call back the pledge, but the Spartan acted too swiftly. The short moments which + followed stamped themselves on Democrates’s memory. The flickering lamps, the squalid + room, the long, dense shadows, the ungainly movements of the Spartan, who was <pb n="28"/><anchor id="Pg028"/>opening a door,—all this passed after the manner of a + vision. And as in a vision Democrates saw a stranger stepping through the inner portal, + as at Lycon’s summons—a man of no huge stature, but masterful in eye and mien. Another + Oriental, but not as the obsequious Hiram. Here was a lord to command and be obeyed. + Gems flashed from the scarlet turban, the green jacket was embroidered with pearls—and + was not half the wealth of Corinth in the jewels studding the sword hilt? Tight trousers + and high shoes of tanned leather set off a form supple and powerful as a panther’s. + Unlike most Orientals the stranger was fair. A blond beard swept his breast. His eyes + were sharp, steel-blue. Never a word spoke he; but Democrates looked on him with wide + eyes, then turned almost in awe to the Spartan. </p> + <p> + <q>This is a prince—</q> he began. </p> + <p> + <q>His Highness Prince Abairah of Cyprus,</q> completed Lycon, rapidly, <q>now come to + visit the Isthmian Games, and later your Athens. It is for this I have brought you + face to face—that he may be welcome in your city.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian cast at the stranger a glance of keenest scrutiny. He knew by every + instinct in his being that Lycon was telling a barefaced lie. Why he did not cry out as + much that instant he hardly himself knew. But the gaze of the <q>Cyprian</q> pierced + through him, fascinating, magnetizing, and Lycon’s great hand was on his victim’s + shoulder. The <q>Cyprian’s</q> own hand went out seeking Democrates’s. </p> + <p> + <q>I shall be very glad to see the noble Athenian in his own city. His fame for + eloquence and prudence is already in Tyre and Babylon,</q> spoke the stranger, never + taking his steel-blue eyes from the orator’s face. The accent was Oriental, but the + Greek was fluent. The prince—for prince he was, whatever his nation—pressed his hand + <pb n="29"/><anchor id="Pg029"/>closer. Almost involuntarily Democrates’s hand + responded. They clasped tightly; then, as if Lycon feared a word too much, the unknown + released his hold, bowed with inimitable though silent courtesy, and was gone behind the + door whence he had come. </p> + <p> It had taken less time than men use to count a hundred. The latch clicked. Democrates + gazed blankly on the door, then turned on Lycon with a start. </p> + <p> + <q>Your wine was strong. You have bewitched me. What have I done? By Zeus of Olympus—I + have given my hand in pledge to a Persian spy.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><q>A prince of Cyprus</q>—did you not hear me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Cerberus eat me if that man has seen Cyprus. No Cyprian is so blond. The man is + Xerxes’s brother.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We shall see, friend; we shall see: <q>Day by day we grow old, and day by day we grow + wiser.</q> So your own Solon puts it, I think.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates drew himself up angrily. <q>I know my duty; I’ll denounce you to + Leonidas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You gave a pledge and oath.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It were a greater crime to keep than to break it.</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon shrugged his huge shoulders. <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> I hardly trusted to + that. But I do trust to Hiram’s pretty story about your bets, and still more to a tale + that’s told about where and how you’ve borrowed money.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates’s voice shook either with rage or with fear when he made shift to answer. </p> + <p> + <q>I see I’ve come to be incriminated and insulted. So be it. If I keep my pledge, at + least suffer me to wish you and your <q>Cyprian</q> a very good night.</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon <anchor id="corr029"/><corr sic="good humoredly">good-humouredly</corr> lighted him to the door. <q>Why so hot? I’ll do you a service + to-morrow. If Glaucon wrestles with me, I shall kill him.</q> + </p> + <pb n="30"/> + <anchor id="Pg030"/> + <p> + <q>Shall I thank the murderer of my friend?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Even when that friend has wronged you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Silence! What do you mean?</q> + </p> + <p> Even in the flickering lamplight Democrates could see the Spartan’s evil smile. </p> + <p> + <q>Of course—Hermione.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Silence, by the infernal gods! Who are you, Cyclops, for <hi rend="italic">her</hi> + name to cross your teeth?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’m not angry. Yet you will thank me to-morrow. The pentathlon will be merely a + pleasant flute-playing before the great war-drama. You will see more of the <q>Cyprian</q> at Athens—</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates heard no more. Forth from that wine-house he ran into the sheltering night, + till safe under the shadow of the black cypresses. His head glowed. His heart throbbed. + He had been partner in foulest treason. Duty to friend, duty to country,—oath or no + oath,—should have sent him to Leonidas. What evil god had tricked him into that + interview? Yet he did not denounce the traitor. Not his oath held him back, but + benumbing fear,—and what sting lay back of Lycon’s hints and threats the orator knew + best. And how if Lycon made good his boast and killed Glaucon on the morrow? </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="4" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="31"/> + <anchor id="Pg031"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER IV</head> + <head type="sub"> THE PENTATHLON </head> + <p> In a tent at the lower end of the long stadium stood Glaucon awaiting the final + summons to his ordeal. His friends had just cried farewell for the last time: Cimon had + kissed him; Themistocles had gripped his hand; Democrates had called <q>Zeus prosper + you!</q> Simonides had vowed that he was already hunting for the metres of a triumphal + ode. The roar from without told how the stadium was filled with its chattering + thousands. The athlete’s trainers were bestowing their last officious advice. </p> + <p> + <q>The Spartan will surely win the quoit-throw. Do not be troubled. In everything else + you can crush him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Beware of Mœrocles of <anchor id="corr031"/><corr sic="Mantineia">Mantinea</corr>. He’s a knavish fellow; his backers are recalling + their bets. But he hopes to win on a trick; beware, lest he trip you in the + foot-race.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Aim low when you hurl the javelin. Your dart always rises.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon received this and much more admonition with his customary smile. There was no + flush on the forehead, no flutter of the heart. A few hours later he would be crowned + with all the glory which victory in the great games could throw about a Hellene, or be + buried in the disgrace to which his ungenerous people consigned the vanquished. But, in + the words of his day, <q>he knew himself</q> and his own powers. From the day he quitted + boyhood he had never met the giant he could not master; the Hermes he could not out<pb n="32"/><anchor id="Pg032"/>run. He anticipated victory as a matter of course, even + victory wrested from Lycon, and his thoughts seemed wandering far from the tawny track + where he must face his foes. </p> + <p> + <q>Athens,—my father,—my wife! I will win glory for them all!</q> was the drift of his + revery. </p> + <p> The younger rubber grunted under breath at his athlete’s vacant eye, but Pytheas, the + older of the pair, whispered confidently that <q>when he had known Master Glaucon + longer, he would know that victories came his way, just by reaching out his hands.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Athena grant it,</q> muttered the other. <q>I’ve got my half mina staked on him, + too.</q> Then from the tents at either side began the ominous call of the heralds:— </p> + <p> + <q>Amyntas of Thebes, come you forth.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ctesias of Epidaurus, come you forth.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon of Sparta, come you forth.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon held out his hands. Each trainer seized one. </p> + <p> + <q>Wish me joy and <anchor id="corr032"/><corr sic="honor">honour</corr>, good friends!</q> cried the athlete. </p> + <p> + <q>Poseidon and Athena aid you!</q> And Pytheas’s honest voice was husky. This was the + greatest ordeal of his favourite pupil, and the trainer’s soul would go with him into + the combat. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon of Athens, come you forth.</q> + </p> + <p> The curtains of the tent swept aside. An intense sunlight sprang to meet the Athenian. + He passed into the arena clad only in his coat of glistering oil. Scolus of Thasos and + Mœrocles of Mantinea joined the other four athletes; then, escorted each by a herald + swinging his myrtle wand, the six went down the stadium to the stand of the judges. </p> + <p> Before the fierce light of a morning in Hellas beating down on him, Glaucon the + Alcmæonid was for an instant blinded, and walked on passively, following his guide. + Then, as from a dissolving mist, the huge stadium began to reveal itself: <pb n="33"/><anchor id="Pg033"/>line above line, thousand above thousand of bright-robed + spectators, a sea of faces, tossing arms, waving garments. A thunderous shout rose as + the athletes came to view,—jangling, incoherent; each city cheered its champion and + tried to cry down all the rest: applause, advice, derision. Glaucon heard the derisive + hootings, <q>pretty girl,</q> + <q>pretty pullet,</q> from the serried host of the Laconians along the left side of the + stadium; but an answering salvo, <q>Dog of Cerberus!</q> bawled by the Athenian crowds + opposite, and winged at Lycon, returned the taunts with usury. As the champions + approached the judges’ stand a procession of full twenty pipers, attended by as many + fair boys in flowing white, marched from the farther end of the stadium to meet them. + The boys bore cymbals and tambours; the pipers struck up a brisk marching note in the + rugged Dorian mode. The boys’ lithe bodies swayed in enchanting rhythm. The roaring + multitude quieted, admiring their grace. The champions and the pipers thus came to the + pulpit in the midst of the long arena. The president of the judges, a handsome + Corinthian in purple and a golden fillet, swept his ivory wand from right to left. The + marching note ceased. The whole company leaped as one man to its feet. The pipes, the + cymbals were drowned, whilst twenty thousand voices—Doric, Bœotian, Attic—chorused + together the hymn which all Greece knew: the hymn to Poseidon of the Isthmus, august + guardian of the games. </p> + <p> Louder it grew; the multitude found one voice, as if it would cry, <q>We are Hellenes + all; though of many a city, the same fatherland, the same gods, the same hope against + the Barbarian.</q> + </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Praise we Poseidon the mighty, the monarch,</q></l> + <l>Shaker of earth and the harvestless sea;</l> + <l>King of wide Ægæ and Helicon gladsome</l> + <l><pb n="34"/><anchor id="Pg034"/>Twain are the honours high Zeus sheds on thee!</l> + <l>Thine to be lord of the mettlesome chargers,</l> + <l>Thine to be lord of swift ships as they wing!</l> + <l>Guard thou and guide us, dread prince of the billows,</l> + <l>Safe to their homeland, thy suppliants bring;</l> + <l>Faring by land or by clamorous waters</l> + <l>Be thou their way-god to shield, to defend,</l> + <l>Then shall the smoke of a thousand glad altars,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">To thee in reverent gladness ascend!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Thus in part. And in the hush thereafter the president poured a libation from a golden + cup, praying, as the wine fell on the brazier beside him, to the <q>Earth Shaker,</q> + seeking his blessing upon the contestants, the multitude, and upon broad Hellas. Next + the master-herald announced that now, on the third day of the games, came the final and + most honoured contest: the pentathlon, the fivefold struggle, with the crown to him who + conquered thrice. He proclaimed the names of the six rivals, their cities, their + ancestry, and how they had complied with the required training. The president took up + his tale, and turning to the champions, urged them to strive their best, for the eyes of + all Hellas were on them. But he warned any man with blood-guiltiness upon his soul not + to anger the gods by continuing in the games. </p> + <p> + <q>But since,</q> the brief speech concluded, <q>these men have chosen to contend, and + have made oath that they are purified or innocent, let them join, and Poseidon shed + fair glory upon the best!</q> + </p> + <p> More shouting; the pipers paraded the arena, blowing shriller than ever. Some of the + athletes shifted uneasily. Scolus the Thasian—youngest of the six—was pale, and cast + nervous glances at the towering bulk of Lycon. The Spartan gave him no heed, but threw a + loud whisper at Glaucon, who stood silently beside him:— </p> + <pb n="35"/> + <anchor id="Pg035"/> + <p> + <q>By Castor, son of Conon, you are extremely handsome. If fine looks won the battle, I + might grow afraid.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian, whose roving eye had just caught Cimon and Democrates in the audience, + seemed never to hear him. </p> + <p> + <q>And you are passing stalwart. Still, be advised. I wouldn’t harm you, so drop out + early.</q> + </p> + <p> Still no answer from Glaucon, whose clear eye seemed now to be wandering over the bare + hills of Megara beyond. </p> + <p> + <q>No answer?</q> persisted the giant. <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> don’t complain that + you’ve lacked warning, when you sit to-night in Charon’s ferry-boat.</q> + </p> + <p> The least shadow of a smile flitted across the Athenian’s face; there was a slight + deepening of the light in his eye. He turned his head a bit toward Lycon:— </p> + <p> + <q>The games are not ended, dear Spartan,</q> he observed quietly. </p> + <p> The giant scowled. <q>I don’t like you silent, smiling men! You’re warned. I’ll do my + worst—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Let the leaping begin!</q> rang the voice of the president,—a call that changed all + the uproar to a silence in which one might hear the wind moving in the firs outside, + while every athlete felt his muscles tighten. </p> + <p> The heralds ran down the soft sands to a narrow mound of hardened earth, and beckoned + to the athletes to follow. In the hands of each contestant were set a pair of bronze + dumb-bells. The six were arrayed upon the mound with a clear reach of sand before. The + master-herald proclaimed the order of the leaping: that each contestant should spring + twice, and he whose leaps were the poorest should drop from the other contests. </p> + <p> Glaucon stood, his golden head thrown back, his eyes wandering idly toward his friends + in the stadium. He could see Cimon restless on his seat, and Simonides holding his <pb n="36"/><anchor id="Pg036"/>cloak and doubtless muttering wise counsel. The champion + was as calm as his friends were nervous. The stadium had grown oppressively still; then + broke into along <q>ah!</q> Twenty thousand sprang up together as Scolus the Thasian + leaped. His partisans cheered, while he rose from a sand-cloud; but ceased quickly. His + leap had been poor. A herald with a pick marked a line where he had landed. The pipers + began a rollicking catch to which the athletes involuntarily kept time with their + dumb-bells. </p> + <p> Glaucon leaped second. Even the hostile Laconians shouted with pleasure at sight of + his beautiful body poised, then flung out upon the sands far beyond the Thasian. He + rose, shook off the dust, and returned to the mound, with a graceful gesture to the + cheer that greeted him; but wise heads knew the contest was just beginning. </p> + <p> Ctesias and Amyntas leaped beyond the Thasian’s mark, short of the Athenian’s. Lycon + was fifth. His admirers’ hopes were high. He did not blast them. Huge was his bulk, yet + his strength matched it. A cloud of dust hid him from view. When it settled, every + Laconian was roaring with delight. He had passed beyond Glaucon. Mœrocles of Mantinea + sprang last and badly. The second round was almost as the first; although Glaucon + slightly surpassed his former effort. Lycon did as well as before. The others hardly + bettered their early trial. It was long before the Laconians grew quiet enough to listen + to the call of the herald. </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon of Sparta wins the leaping. Glaucon of Athens is second. Scolus of Thasos leaps + the shortest and drops from the pentathlon.</q> + </p> + <p> Again cheers and clamour. The inexperienced Thasian marched disconsolately to his + tent, pursued by ungenerous jeers. </p> + <pb n="37"/> + <anchor id="Pg037"/> + <p> + <q>The quoit-hurling follows,</q> once more the herald; <q>each contestant throws three + quoits. He who throws poorest drops from the games.</q> + </p> + <p> Cimon had risen now. In a momentary lull he trumpeted through his hands across the + arena. </p> + <p> + <q>Wake, Glaucon; quit your golden thoughts of Eleusis; Lycon is filching the crown.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles, seated near Cimon’s side, was staring hard, elbows on knees and head on + hands. Democrates, next him, was gazing at Glaucon, as if the athlete were made of gold; + but the object of their fears and hopes gave back neither word nor sign. </p> + <p> The attendants were arraying the five remaining champions at the foot of a little rise + in the sand, near the judges’ pulpit. To each was brought a bronze quoit, the discus. + The pipers resumed their medley. The second contest was begun. </p> + <p> First, Amyntas of Thebes. He took his stand, measured the distance with his eye, then + with a run flew up the rising, and at its summit his body bent double, while the heavy + quoit flew away. A noble cast! and twice excelled. For a moment every Theban in the + stadium was transported. Strangers sitting together fell on one another’s necks in sheer + joy. But the rapture ended quickly. Lycon flung second. His vast strength could now tell + to the uttermost. He was proud to display it. Thrice he hurled. Thrice his discus sped + out as far as ever man had seen a quoit fly in Hellas. Not even Glaucon’s best wishers + were disappointed when he failed to come within three cubits of the Spartan. Ctesias and + Mœrocles realized their task was hopeless, and strove half heartedly. The friends of the + huge Laconian were almost beside themselves with joy; while the herald called + desperately that:— </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon of Sparta wins with the discus. Glaucon of <pb n="38"/><anchor id="Pg038"/>Athens is second. Ctesias of Epidaurus throws poorest and drops from the games.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Wake, Glaucon!</q> trumpeted Cimon, again his white face shining out amid the + thousands of gazers now. <q>Wake, or Lycon wins again and all is lost!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon was almost beyond earshot; to the frantic entreaty he answered by no sign. As + he and the Spartan stood once more together, the giant leered on him civilly:— </p> + <p> + <q>You grow wise, Athenian. It’s honour enough and to spare to be second, with Lycon + first. <hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi>—and here’s the last contest.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I say again, good friend,</q>—there was a slight closing of the Athenian’s lips, and + deepening in his eyes,—<q>the pentathlon is not ended.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The harpies eat you, then, if you get too bold! The herald is calling for the + javelin-casting. Come,—it’s time to make an end.</q> + </p> + <p> But in the deep hush that spread again over the thousands Glaucon turned toward the + only faces that he saw out of the innumerable host: Themistocles, Democrates, Simonides, + Cimon. They beheld him raise his arm and lift his glorious head yet higher. Glaucon in + turn saw Cimon sink into his seat. <q>He wakes!</q> was the appeased mutter passing from + the son of Miltiades and running along every tier of Athenians. And silence deeper than + ever held the stadium; for now, with Lycon victor twice, the literal turning of a finger + in the next event might win or lose the parsley crown. </p> + <p> The Spartan came first. The heralds had set a small scarlet shield at the lower end of + the course. Lycon poised his light javelin thrice, and thrice the slim dart sped through + the leathern thong on his fingers. But not for glory. Perchance this combat was too + delicate an art for his ungainly hands. Twice the missile lodged in the rim of the + shield; <pb n="39"/><anchor id="Pg039"/>once it sprang beyond upon the sand. Mœrocles, + who followed, surpassed him. Amyntas was hardly worse. Glaucon came last, and won his + victory with a dexterous grace that made all but the hottest Laconian swell the <q><hi rend="italic">Io! paian!</hi></q> of applause. His second cast had been into the + centre of the target. His third had splintered his second javelin as it hung quivering. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon of Athens wins the javelin-casting. Mœrocles of Mantinea is second. Amyntas + of Thebes is poorest and drops from the games.</q> But who heard the herald now? </p> + <p> By this time all save the few Mantineans who vainly clung to their champion, and the + Laconians themselves, had begun to pin their hopes on the beautiful son of Conon. There + was a steely glint in the Spartan athlete’s eye that made the president of the games + beckon to the master-herald. </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon is dangerous. See that he does not do Glaucon a mischief, or transgress the + rules.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I can, till they come to the wrestling.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In that the god must aid the Athenian. But now let us have the foot-race.</q> + </p> + <p> In the little respite following the trainers entered and rubbed down the three + remaining contestants with oil until their bodies shone again like tinted ivory. Then + the heralds conducted the trio to the southern end farthest from the tents. The two + junior presidents left their pulpit and took post at either end of a line marked on the + sand. Each held the end of a taut rope. The contestants drew lots from an urn for the + place nearest the lower turning goal,—no trifling advantage. A favouring god gave + Mœrocles the first; Lycon was second; Glaucon only third. As the three crouched before + the rope with hands dug into the sand, waiting the fateful signal, Glaucon was conscious + that a strange blond man of noble mien and Oriental dress was sitting close by the + starting line and watching him intently. </p> + <pb n="40"/> + <anchor id="Pg040"/> + <p> It was one of those moments of strain, when even trifles can turn the overwrought + attention. Glaucon knew that the stranger was looking from him to Lycon, from Lycon back + to himself, measuring each with shrewd eye. Then the gaze settled on the Athenian. The + Oriental called to him:— </p> + <p> + <q>Swift, godlike runner, swift;</q>—they were so close they could catch the Eastern + accent—<q>the Most High give you His wings!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon saw Lycon turn on the shouter with a scowl that was answered by a composed + smile. To the highly strung imagination of the Athenian the wish became an omen of good. + For some unknown cause the incident of the Oriental lad he rescued and the mysterious + gift of the bracelet flashed back to him. Why should a stranger of the East cast him + fair wishes? Would the riddle ever be revealed? </p> + <p> A trumpet blast. The Oriental, his wish, all else save the tawny track, flashed from + Glaucon’s mind. The rope fell. The three shot away as one. </p> + <p> Over the sand they flew, moving by quick leaps, their shining arms flashing to and fro + in fair rhythm. Twice around the stadium led the race, so no one strained at first. For + a while the three clung together, until near the lower goal the Mantinean heedlessly + risked a dash. His foot slipped on the sands. He recovered; but like arrows his rivals + passed him. At the goal the inevitable happened. Lycon, with the shorter turn, swung + quickest. He went up the homeward track ahead, the Athenian an elbow’s length behind. + The stadium seemed dissolving in a tumult. Men rose; threw garments in the air; + stretched out their arms; besought the gods; screamed to the runners. </p> + <p> + <q>Speed, son of Conon, speed!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glory to Castor; Sparta is prevailing!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Strive, Mantinean,—still a chance!</q> + </p> + <pb n="41"/> + <anchor id="Pg041"/> + <p> + <q>Win the turn, dear Athenian, the turn, and leave that Cyclops behind!</q> + </p> + <p> But at the upper turn Lycon still held advantage, and down the other track went the + twain, even as Odysseus ran behind Ajax, <q>who trod in Ajax’ footsteps ere ever the + dust had settled, while on his head fell the breath of him behind.</q> Again at the + lower goal the Mantinean was panting wearily in the rear. Again Lycon led, again rose + the tempest of voices. Six hundred feet away the presidents were stretching the line, + where victory and the plaudits of Hellas waited Lycon of Lacedæmon. </p> + <p> Then men ceased shouting, and prayed under breath. They saw Glaucon’s shoulders bend + lower and his neck strain back, while the sunlight sprang all over his red-gold hair. + The stadium leaped to their feet, as the Athenian landed by a bound at his rival’s side. + Quick as the bound the great arm of the Spartan flew out with its knotted fist. A deadly + stroke, and shunned by a hair’s-breadth; but it was shunned. The senior president called + angrily to the herald; but none heard his words in the rending din. The twain shot up + the track elbow to elbow, and into the rope. It fell amid a blinding cloud of dust. All + the heralds and presidents ran together into it. Then was a long, agonizing moment, + while the stadium roared, shook, and raged, before the dust settled and the + master-herald stood forth beckoning for silence. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon of Athens wins the foot-race. Lycon of Sparta is second. Mœrocles of Mantinea + drops from the contest. Glaucon and Lycon, each winning twice, shall wrestle for the + final victory.</q> + </p> + <p> And now the stadium grew exceeding still. Men lifted their hands to their favourite + gods, and made reckless, if silent, vows,—geese, pigs, tripods, even oxen,—if only the + deity <pb n="42"/><anchor id="Pg042"/>would strengthen their favourite’s arm. For the + first time attention was centred on the tall <q>time pointer,</q> by the judges’ stand, + and how the short shadow cast by the staff told of the end of the morning. The last + wagers were recorded on the tablets by nervous styluses. The readiest tongues ceased to + chatter. Thousands of wistful eyes turned from the elegant form of the Athenian to the + burly form of the Spartan. Every outward chance, so many an anxious heart told itself, + favoured the oft-victorious giant; but then,—and here came reason for a true + Hellene,—<q>the gods could not suffer so fair a man to meet defeat.</q> The noonday + sun beat down fiercely. The tense stillness was now and then broken by the bawling of a + swarthy hawker thrusting himself amid the spectators with cups and a jar of sour wine. + There was a long rest. The trainers came forward again and dusted the two remaining + champions with sand that they might grip fairly. Pytheas looked keenly in his pupil’s + face. </p> + <p> + <q><q>Well begun is half done,</q> my lad; but the hottest battle is still before,</q> + said he, trying to cover his own consuming dread. </p> + <p> + <q>Faint heart never won a city,</q> smiled Glaucon, as if never more at ease; and + Pytheas drew back happier, seeing the calm light in the athlete’s eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>Ay,</q> he muttered to his fellow-trainer, <q>all is well. The boy has wakened.</q> + </p> + <p> But now the heralds marched the champions again to the judges. The president + proclaimed the rules of the wrestling,—two casts out of three gave victory. In lower + tone he addressed the scowling Spartan:— </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon, I warn you: earn the crown only fairly, if you would earn it. Had that blow in + the foot-race struck home, I would have refused you victory, though you finished all + alone.</q> + </p> + <pb n="43"/> + <anchor id="Pg043"/> + <p> A surly nod was the sole answer. </p> + <p> The heralds led the twain a little way from the judges’ stand, and set them ten paces + asunder and in sight of all the thousands. The heralds stood, crossing their myrtle + wands between. The president rose on his pulpit, and called through the absolute hush:— </p> + <p> + <q>Prepared, Spartan?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Prepared, Athenian?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then Poseidon shed glory on the best!</q> + </p> + <p> His uplifted wand fell. A clear shrill trumpet pealed. The heralds bounded back in a + twinkling. In that twinkling the combatants leaped into each other’s arms. A short + grapple; again a sand cloud; and both were rising from the ground. They had fallen + together. Heated by conflict, they were locked again ere the heralds could proclaim a + tie. Cimon saw the great arms of the Spartan twine around the Athenian’s chest in fair + grapple, but even as Lycon strove with all his bull-like might to lift and throw, + Glaucon’s slim hand glided down beneath his opponent’s thigh. Twice the Spartan put + forth all his powers. Those nearest watched the veins of the athletes swell and heard + their hard muscles crack. The stadium was in succession hushed and tumultuous. Then, at + the third trial, even as Lycon seemed to have won his end, the Athenian smote out with + one foot. The sands were slippery. The huge Laconian lunged forward, and as he lunged, + his opponent by a masterly effort tore himself loose. The Spartan fell + heavily,—vanquished by a trick, though fairly used. </p> + <p> The stadium thundered its applause. More vows, prayers, exhortations. Glaucon stood + and received all the homage in silence. A little flush was on his forehead. His arms and + <pb n="44"/><anchor id="Pg044"/>shoulders were very red. Lycon rose slowly. All could + hear his rage and curses. The heralds ordered him to contain himself. </p> + <p> + <q>Now, fox of Athens,</q> rang his shout, <q>I will kill you!</q> + </p> + <p> Pytheas, beholding his fury, tore out a handful of hair in his mingled hope and dread. + No man knew better than the trainer that no trick would conquer Lycon this second time; + and Glaucon the Fair might be nearer the fields of Asphodel than the pleasant hills by + Athens. More than one man had died in the last ordeal of the pentathlon. </p> + <p> The silence was perfect. Even the breeze had hushed while Glaucon and Lycon faced + again. The twenty thousand sat still as in their sepulchres, each saying in his heart + one word—<q>Now!</q> If in the first wrestling the attack had been impetuous, it was + now painfully deliberate. When the heralds’ wands fell, the two crept like mighty cats + across the narrow sands, frames bent, hands outstretched, watching from the corners of + their eyes a fair chance to rush in and grapple. Then Lycon, whose raging spirit had the + least control, charged. Another dust cloud. When it cleared, the two were locked + together as by iron. </p> + <p> For an instant they swayed, whilst the Spartan tried again his brute power. It failed + him. Glaucon drew strength from the earth like Antæus. The hushed stadium could hear the + pants of the athletes as they locked closer, closer. Strength failing, the Spartan + snatched at his enemy’s throat; but the Athenian had his wrist gripped fast before the + clasp could tighten, and in the melée Glaucon’s other hand passed beneath Lycon’s thigh. + The two seemed deadlocked. For a moment they grinned face to face, almost close enough + to bite each other’s lips. But breath was too precious for curses. The Spartan flung his + ponderous weight downward. A slip in the gliding sand would have ruined the <pb n="45"/><anchor id="Pg045"/>Athenian instantly; but Poseidon or Apollo was with him. His + feet dug deep, and found footing. Lycon drew back baffled, though the clutches of their + hands were tightening like vices of steel. Then again face to face, swaying to and fro, + panting, muttering, while the veins in the bare backs swelled still more. </p> + <p> + <q>He cannot endure it. He cannot! Ah! Athena Polias, pity him! Lycon is wearing him + down,</q> moaned Pytheas, beside himself with fear, almost running to Glaucon’s aid. </p> + <p> The stadium resumed its roaring. A thousand conflicting prayers, hopes, counsels, went + forth to the combatants. The gods of Olympus and Hades; all demigods, heroes, satyrs, + were invoked for them. They were besought to conquer in the name of parents, friends, + and native land. Athenians and Laconians, sitting side by side, took up the combat, + grappling fiercely. And all this time the two strove face to face. </p> + <p> How long had it lasted? Who knew? Least of all that pair who wrestled perchance for + life and for death. Twice again the Spartan strove with his weight to crush his opponent + down. Twice vainly. He could not close his grip around the Athenian’s throat. He had + looked to see Glaucon sink exhausted; but his foe still looked on him with steadfast, + unweakening eyes. The president was just bidding the heralds, <q>Pluck them asunder and + declare a tie!</q> when the stadium gave a shrill long shout. Lycon had turned to his + final resource. Reckless of his own hurt, he dashed his iron forehead against the + Athenian’s, as bull charges bull. Twice and three times, and the blood leaped out over + Glaucon’s fair skin. Again—the rush of blood was almost blinding. Again—Pytheas + screamed with agony—the Athenian’s clutch seemed weakening. Again—flesh and <pb n="46"/><anchor id="Pg046"/>blood could not stand such battering long. If Lycon could + endure this, there was only one end to the pentathlon. </p> + <p> + <q>Help thou me, Athena of the Gray Eyes! For the glory of Athens, my father, my + wife!</q> + </p> + <p> The cry of Glaucon—half prayer, half battle-shout—pealed above the bellowing + stadium. Even as he cried it, all saw his form draw upward as might Prometheus’s + unchained. They saw the fingers of the Spartan unclasp. They saw his bloody face + upturned and torn with helpless agony. They saw his great form totter, topple, fall. The + last dust cloud, and into it the multitude seemed rushing together.... </p> + <p> ... They caught Glaucon just as he fell himself. Themistocles was the first to kiss + him. Little Simonides wept. Cimon, trying to embrace the victor, hugged in the confusion + a dirty Platæan. Democrates seemed lost in the whirlpool, and came with greetings later. + Perhaps he had stopped to watch that Oriental who had given Glaucon good wishes in the + foot-race. The fairest praise, however, was from a burly man, who merely held out his + hand and muttered, <q>Good!</q> But this was from Leonidas. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Very late a runner crowned with pink oleanders panted up to the Athenian watch by + Mount Icarus at the custom-house on the Megarian frontier. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Nika!</hi>—He conquers.</q> + </p> + <p> The man fell breathless; but in a moment a clear beacon blazed upon the height. From a + peak in Salamis another answered. In Eleusis, Hermippus the Noble was running to his + daughter. In Peiræus, the harbour-town, the sailor folk were dancing about the + market-place. In Athens, archons, generals, and elders were accompanying Conon to the + <pb n="47"/><anchor id="Pg047"/>Acropolis to give thanks to Athena. Conon had + forgotten how he had disowned his son. Another beacon glittered from the Acropolis. + Another flashed from the lordly crest of Pentelicus, telling the news to all Attica. + There was singing in the fishers’ boats far out upon the bay. In the goat-herds’ huts on + dark Hymethus the pan-pipes blew right merrily. Athens spent the night in almost drunken + joy. One name was everywhere:— </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon the Beautiful who honours us all! Glaucon the Fortunate whom the High Gods + love!</q> + </p> + <pb n="48"/> + <anchor id="Pg048"/> + <p> + </p> + </div> + </div> + <div type="book" n="1" rend="page-break-before: right"> + <pb n="49"/> + <anchor id="Pg049"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>BOOK I</head> + <head type="sub"> THE SHADOW OF THE PERSIAN </head> + <pb n="50"/> + <anchor id="Pg050"/> + <p> + </p> + <div type="chapter" n="5" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="51"/> + <anchor id="Pg051"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER V</head> + <head type="sub"> HERMIONE OF ELEUSIS </head> + <p> A cluster of white stuccoed houses with a craggy hill behind, and before them a blue + bay girt in by the rocky isle of Salamis—that is Eleusis-by-the-Sea. Eastward and + westward spreads the teeming Thrasian plain, richest in Attica. Behind the plain the + encircling mountain wall fades away into a purple haze. One can look southward toward + Salamis; then to the left rises the rounded slope of brown Pœcilon sundering Eleusis + from its greater neighbour, Athens. Look behind: there is a glimpse of the long violet + crests of Cithæron and Parnes, the barrier mountains against Bœotia. Look to right: + beyond the summits of Megara lifts a noble cone. It is an old friend, Acro-Corinthus. + The plain within the hills is sprinkled with thriving farmsteads, green vineyards, + darker olive groves. The stony hill-slopes are painted red by countless poppies. One + hears the tinkling of the bells of roving goats. Thus the more distant view; while at + the very foot of the hill of vision rises a temple with proud columns and + pediments,—the fane of Demeter the <q>Earth Mother</q> and the seat of her Mysteries, + renowned through Hellas. </p> + <p> The house of Hermippus the Eumolpid, first citizen of Eleusis, stood to the east of + the temple. On three sides gnarled trunks and sombre leaves of the sacred olives almost + hid the white low walls of the rambling buildings. On the <pb n="52"/><anchor id="Pg052"/>fourth side, facing the sea, the dusty road wound east toward Megara. + Here, by the gate, were gathered a rustic company: brown-faced village lads and lasses, + toothless graybeards, cackling old wives. Above the barred gate swung a festoon of ivy, + whilst from within the court came the squeaking of pipes, the tuning of citharas, and + shouted orders—signs of a mighty bustling. Then even while the company grew, a + half-stripped courier flew up the road and into the gate. </p> + <p> + <q>They come,</q> ran the wiseacre’s comment; but their buzzing ceased, as again the + gate swung back to suffer two ladies to peer forth. Ladies, in the truth, for the twain + had little in common with the ogling village maids, and whispers were soon busy with + them. </p> + <p> + <q>Look—his wife and her mother! How would you, Praxinœ, like to marry an + Isthmionices?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Excellently well, but your Hermas won’t so honour you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> see, she lifts her pretty blue veil; I’m glad she’s + handsome. Some beautiful men wed regular hags.</q> + </p> + <p> The two ladies were clearly mother and daughter, of the same noble height, and dressed + alike in white. Both faces were framed in a flutter of Amorgos gauze: the mother’s was + saffron, crowned with a wreath of golden wheat-ears; the daughter’s blue with a circlet + of violets. And now as they stood with arms entwined the younger brushed aside her veil. + The gossips were right. The robe and the crown hid all but the face and tress of the + lustrous brown hair,—but that face! Had not King Hephæstos wrought every line of clear + Phœnician glass, then touched them with snow and rose, and shot through all the ichor of + life? Perhaps there was a fitful fire in the dark eyes that awaited the husband’s + coming, or a slight twitching of the impatient lips. But nothing disturbed the high-born + repose of face and figure. Hermione was indeed the worthy daughter of a noble <pb n="53"/><anchor id="Pg053"/>house, and happy the man who was faring homeward to + Eleusis! </p> + <p> Another messenger. Louder bustle in the court, and the voice of Hermippus arraying his + musicians. Now a sharp-faced man, who hid his bald pate under a crown of lilies, joined + the ladies,—Conon, father of the victor. He had ended his life-feud with Hermippus the + night the message flashed from Corinth. Then a third runner; this time in his hand a + triumphant palm branch, and his one word—<q>Here!</q> A crash of music answered from + the court, while Hermippus, a stately nobleman, his fine head just sprinkled with gray, + led out his unmartial army. </p> + <p> Single pipes and double pipes, tinkling lyres and many-stringed citharas, not to + forget herdsmen’s reed flutes, cymbals, and tambours, all made melody and noise + together. An imposing procession that must have crammed the courtyard wound out into the + Corinth road. </p> + <p> Here was the demarch<note place="foot">The chief magistrate of an Attic + commune.</note> of Eleusis, a pompous worthy, who could hardly hold his head erect, + thanks to an exceeding heavy myrtle wreath. After him, two by two, the snowy-robed, + long-bearded priests of Demeter; behind these the noisy corps of musicians, and then a + host of young men and women,—bright of eye, graceful of movement,—twirling long chains + of ivy, laurel, and myrtle in time to the music. Palm branches were everywhere. The + procession moved down the road; but even as it left the court a crash of cymbals through + the olive groves answered its uproar. Deep now and sonorous sounded manly voices as in + some triumphal chant. Hermione, as she stood by the gate, drew closer to her mother. + Inflexible Attic custom seemed to hold her fast. No noblewoman might thrust herself + boldly under the public eye—save at a sacred festival—<pb n="54"/><anchor id="Pg054"/>no, not when the centre of the gladness was her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>He comes!</q> So she cried to her mother; so cried every one. Around the turn in the + olive groves swung a car in which Cimon stood proudly erect, and at his side another. + Marching before the chariot were Themistocles, Democrates, Simonides; behind followed + every Athenian who had visited the Isthmia. The necks of the four horses were wreathed + with flowers; flowers hid the reins and bridles, the chariot, and even its wheels. The + victor stood aloft, his scarlet cloak flung back, displaying his godlike form. An + unhealed scar marred his forehead—Lycon’s handiwork; but who thought of that, when + above the scar pressed the wreath of wild parsley? As the two processions met, a cheer + went up that shook the red rock of Eleusis. The champion answered with his frankest + smile; only his eyes seemed questioning, seeking some one who was not there. </p> + <p> + <q>Io! Glaucon!</q> The Eleusinian youths broke from their ranks and fell upon the + chariot. The horses were loosed in a twinkling. Fifty arms dragged the car onward. The + pipers swelled their cheeks, each trying to outblow his fellow. Then after them sped the + maidens. They ringed the chariot round with a maze of flowers chains. As the car moved, + they accompanied it with a dance of unspeakable ease, modesty, grace. A local poet—not + Simonides, not Pindar, but some humbler bard—had invoked his muse for the grand + occasion. Youths and maidens burst forth into singing. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Io! Io, pæan! the parsley-wreathed victor hail!</q></l> + <l>Io! Io, pæan! sing it out on each breeze, each gale!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">He has triumphed, our own, our beloved,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Before all the myriad’s ken.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">He has met the swift, has proved swifter!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">The strong, has proved stronger again!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Now glory to him, to his kinfolk,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">To Athens, and all Athens’ men!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><pb n="55"/><anchor id="Pg055"/>Meet, run to meet him,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">The nimblest are not too fleet.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Greet him, with raptures greet him,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">With songs and with twinkling feet.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">He approaches,—throw flowers before him.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Throw poppy and lily and rose;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Blow faster, gay pipers, faster,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Till your mad music throbs and flows,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">For his glory and ours flies through Hellas,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Wherever the Sun-King goes.</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l>Io! Io, pæan! crown with laurel and myrtle and pine,</l> + <l>Io, pæan! haste to crown him with olive, Athena’s dark vine.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">He is with us, he shines in his beauty;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Oh, joy of his face the first sight;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">He has shed on us all his bright honour,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4">Let High Zeus shed on him his light,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">And thou, Pallas, our gray-eyed protectress,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 4"><q rend="pre: none">Keep his name and his fame ever + bright!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Matching action to the song, they threw over the victor crowns and chains beyond + number, till the parsley wreath was hidden from sight. Near the gate of Hermippus the + jubilant company halted. The demarch bawled long for silence, won it at last, and + approached the chariot. He, good man, had been a long day meditating on his speech of + formal congratulation and enjoyed his opportunity. Glaucon’s eyes still roved and + questioned, yet the demarch rolled out his windy sentences. But there was something + unexpected. Even as the magistrate took breath after reciting the victor’s noble + ancestry, there was a cry, a parting of the crowd, and Glaucon the Alcmæonid leaped from + the chariot as never on the sands at Corinth. The veil and the violet wreath fell from + the head of Hermione when her face went up to her husband’s. The blossoms that had + covered the athlete shook over her like a cloud as his face met hers. Then even the + honest demarch cut short his eloquence to swell the salvo. </p> + <pb n="56"/> + <anchor id="Pg056"/> + <p> + <q>The beautiful to the beautiful! The gods reward well. Here is the fairest crown!</q> + </p> + <p> For all Eleusis loved Hermione, and would have forgiven far greater things from her + than this. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Hermippus feasted the whole company,—the crowd at long tables in the court, the + chosen guests in a more private chamber. <q>Nothing to excess</q> was the truly Hellenic + maxim of the refined Eleusinian; and he obeyed it. His banquet was elegant without + gluttony. The Syracusan cook had prepared a lordly turbot. The wine was choice old Chian + but well diluted. There was no vulgar gorging with meat, after the Bœotian manner; but + the great Copaic eel, <q>such as Poseidon might have sent up to Olympus,</q> made every + gourmand clap his hands. The aromatic honey was the choicest from Mt. Hymettus. </p> + <p> Since the smaller company was well selected, convention was waived, and ladies were + present. Hermione sat on a wide chair beside Lysistra, her comely mother; her younger + brothers on stools at either hand. Directly across the narrow table Glaucon and + Democrates reclined on the same couch. The eyes of husband and wife seldom left each + other; their tongues flew fast; they never saw how Democrates hardly took his gaze from + the face of Hermione. Simonides, who reclined beside Themistocles,—having struck a firm + friendship with that statesman on very brief acquaintance,—was overrunning with humour + and anecdote. The great man beside him was hardly his second in the fence of wit and + wisdom. After the fish had given way to the wine, Simonides regaled the company with a + gravely related story of how the Dioscuri had personally appeared to him during his last + stay in Thessaly and saved him from certain death in a falling building. </p> + <pb n="57"/> + <anchor id="Pg057"/> + <p> + <q>You swear this is a true tale, Simonides?</q> began Themistocles, with one eye in his + head. </p> + <p> + <q>It’s impiety to doubt. As penalty, rise at once and sing a song in honour of + Glaucon’s victory.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am no singer or harpist,</q> returned the statesman, with a self-complacency he + never concealed. <q>I only know how to make Athens powerful.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! you son of Miltiades,</q> urged the poet, <q>at least you will not refuse so + churlishly.</q> + </p> + <p> Cimon, with due excuses, arose, called for a harp, and began tuning it; but not all + the company were destined to hear him. A slave-boy touched Themistocles on the shoulder, + and the latter started to go. </p> + <p> + <q>The Dioscuri will save you?</q> demanded Simonides, laughing. </p> + <p> + <q>Quite other gods,</q> rejoined the statesman; <q>your pardon, Cimon, I return in a + moment. An agent of mine is back from Asia, surely with news of weight, if he must + seek me at once in Eleusis.</q> + </p> + <p> But Themistocles lingered outside; an instant more brought a summons to Democrates, + who found Themistocles in an antechamber, deep in talk with Sicinnus,—nominally the + tutor of his sons, actually a trusted spy. The first glance at the Asiatic’s keen face + and eyes was disturbing. An inward omen—not from the entrails of birds, nor a sign in + the heavens—told Democrates the fellow brought no happy tidings. </p> + <p> With incisive questions Themistocles had been bringing out everything. </p> + <p> + <q>So it is absolutely certain that Xerxes begins his invasion next spring?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>As certain as that Helios will rise to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Forewarned is forearmed. Now where have you been since I sent you off in the winter + to visit Asia?</q> + </p> + <pb n="58"/> + <anchor id="Pg058"/> + <p> The man, who knew his master loved to do the lion’s share of the talking, answered + instantly:— </p> + <p> + <q>Sardis, Emesa, Babylon, Susa, Persepolis, Ecbatana.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> Your commission is well executed. Are all the rumours we + hear from the East well founded? Is Xerxes assembling an innumerable host?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Rumour does not tell half the truth. Not one tribe in Asia but is required to send + its fighting men. Two bridges of boats are being built across the Hellespont. The king + will have twelve hundred war triremes, besides countless transports. The cavalry are + being numbered by hundreds of thousands, the infantry by millions. Such an army was + never assembled since Zeus conquered the Giants.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A merry array!</q> Themistocles whistled an instant through his teeth; but, never + confounded, urged on his questions. <q>So be it. But is Xerxes the man to command this + host? He is no master of war like Darius his father.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He is a creature for eunuchs and women; nevertheless his army will not suffer.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And wherefore?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Because Prince Mardonius, son of Gobryas, and brother-in-law of the king, has the + wisdom and valour of Cyrus and Darius together. Name him, and you name the arch-foe of + Hellas. He, not Xerxes, will be the true leader of the host.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You saw him, of course?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I did not. A Magian in Ecbatana told me a strange story. <q>The Prince,</q> said he, + <q>hates the details of camps; leaving the preparation to others, he has gone to + Greece to spy out the land he is to conquer.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Impossible, you are dreaming!</q> The exclamation came not from Themistocles but + Democrates. </p> + <pb n="59"/> + <anchor id="Pg059"/> + <p> + <q>I am not dreaming, worthy sir,</q> returned Sicinnus, tartly; <q>the Magian may have + lied, but I sought the Prince in every city I visited; they always told me, <q>He is + in another.</q> He was not at the king’s court. He may have gone to Egypt, to India, + or to Arabia;—he <hi rend="italic">may</hi> likewise have gone to Greece.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>These are serious tidings, Democrates,</q> remarked Themistocles, with an anxiety his + voice seldom betrayed. <q>Sicinnus is right; the presence of such a man as Mardonius in + Hellas explains many things.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not understand.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why, the lukewarmness of so many friends we had counted on, the bickerings which + arose among the Confederates when we met just now at the Isthmus, the slackness of all + Spartans save Leonidas in preparing for war, the hesitancy of Corcyra in joining us. + Thebes is Medizing, Crete is Medizing, so is Argos. Thessaly is wavering. I can almost + name the princes and great nobles over Hellas who are clutching at Persian money. O + Father Zeus,</q> wound up the Athenian, <q>if there is not some master-spirit + directing all this villany, there is no wisdom in Themistocles, son of Neocles.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But the coming of Mardonius to Greece?</q> questioned the younger man; <q>the peril + he runs? the risk of discovery—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Is all but nothing, except as he comes to Athens, for Medizers will shelter him + everywhere. Yet there is one spot—blessed be Athena—</q> Themistocles’s hands went + up in easy piety—<q>where, let him come if come he dare!</q> Then with a swift change, + as was his wont, the statesman looked straight on Democrates. </p> + <p> + <q>Hark you, son of Myscelus; those Persian lords are reckless. He may even test the + fates and set foot in Attica. I am cumbered with as many cares as Zeus, but this + com<pb n="60"/><anchor id="Pg060"/>mission I give to you. You are my most trusted + lieutenant; I can risk no other. Keep watch, hire spies, scatter bribe-money. Rest not + day nor night to find if Mardonius the Persian enters Athens. Once in our + clutches—and you have done Hellas as fair a turn as Miltiades at Marathon. You + promise it? Give me your hand.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A great task,</q> spoke Democrates, none too readily. </p> + <p> + <q>And one you are worthy to accomplish. Are we not co-workers for Athens and for + Hellas?</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles’s hawklike eyes were unescapable. The younger Athenian thought they were + reading his soul. He held out his hand.... </p> + <p> When Democrates returned to the hall, Cimon had ended his song. The guests were + applauding furiously. Wine was still going round, but Glaucon and Hermione were not + joining. Across the table they were conversing in low sentences that Democrates could + not catch. But he knew well enough the meaning as each face flashed back the beauty of + the other. And his mind wandered back darkly to the day when Glaucon had come to him, + more radiant than even his wont, and cried, <q>Give me joy, dear comrade, joy! Hermippus + has promised me the fairest maiden in Athens.</q> Some evil god had made Democrates + blind to all his boon-companion’s wooing. How many hopes of the orator that day had been + shattered! Yet he had even professed to rejoice with the son of Conon.... He sat in + sombre silence, until the piping voice of Simonides awakened him. </p> + <p> + <q>Friend, if you are a fool, you do a wise thing in keeping still; if a wise man, a + very foolish thing.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Wine, boy,</q> ordered Democrates; <q>and less water in it. I feel wretchedly stupid + to-day.</q> + </p> + <p> He spent the rest of the feast drinking deeply, and with much forced laughter. The + dinner ended toward evening. <pb n="61"/><anchor id="Pg061"/>The whole company escorted + the victor toward Athens. At Daphni, the pass over the hills, the archons and + strategi—highest officials of the state—met them with cavalry and torches and half of + the city trailing at their heels. Twenty cubits of the city wall were pulled down to + make a gate for the triumphal entry. There was another great feast at the government + house. The purse of an hundred drachmæ, due by law to Isthmian victors, was presented. A + street was named for Glaucon in the new port-town of Peiræus. Simonides recited a + triumphal ode. All Athens, in short, made merry for days. Only one man found it hard to + join the mirth whole-heartedly. And this was the victor’s bosom friend,—Democrates. + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="6" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="62"/> + <anchor id="Pg062"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER VI</head> + <head type="sub"> ATHENS </head> + <p> In Athens! Shall one mount the Acropolis or enter the market place? Worship in the + temple of the Virgin Athena, or descend to the Agora and the roar of its getters and + spenders? For Athens has two faces—toward the ideal, toward the commonplace. Who can + regard both at once? Let the Acropolis, its sculptures, its landscape, wait. It has + waited for men three thousand years. And so to the Agora. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb"/> + + <p> + <q>Full market time.</q> The Agora was a beehive. From the round Tholus at the south to + the long portico at the north all was babel and traffic. Donkeys raised their wheezing + protest against too heavy loads of farm produce. Megarian swine squealed and tugged at + their leg-cords. An Asiatic sailor clamoured at the money-changer’s stall for another + obol in change for a Persian daric. <q>Buy my oil!</q> bawled the huckster from his + wicker booth beside the line of Hermes-busts in the midst of the square. <q>Buy my + charcoal!</q> roared back a companion, whilst past both was haled a grinning negro + with a crier who bade every gentleman to <q>mark his chance</q> for a fashionable + servant. Phocian the quack was hawking his toothache salve from the steps of the Temple + of Apollo. Deira, the comely flower girl, held out crowns of rose, violet, and narcissus + to the dozen young dandies who pressed about her. Around the Hermes-busts idle crowds + were reading the legal notices plastered on the base of each statue. A file of mules and + wagons was plough<pb n="63"/><anchor id="Pg063"/>ing through the multitude with marble + for some new building. Every instant the noise grew. Pandora’s box had opened, and every + clamour had flitted out. </p> + <p> At the northern end, where the porticos and the long Dromos street ran off toward the + Dipylon gate, stood the shop of Clearchus the potter. A low counter was covered with the + owner’s wares,—tall amphoræ for wine, flat beakers, + <anchor id="corr063"/><corr sic="waterpots">water-pots</corr>, and basins. Behind, two + apprentices whirled the wheel, another glazed on the black varnish and painted the jars + with little red loves and dancing girls. Clearchus sat on the counter with three + friends,—come not to trade but to barter the latest gossip from the barber-shops: Agis + the sharp, knavish cockpit and gaming-house keeper, Crito the fat mine-contractor, and + finally Polus, gray and pursy, who <q>devoted his talents to the public weal,</q> in + other words was a perpetual juryman and likewise busybody. </p> + <p> The latest rumour about Xerxes having been duly chewed, conversation began to lag. </p> + <p> + <q>An idle day for you, my Polus,</q> threw out Clearchus. </p> + <p> + <q>Idle indeed! No jury sits to-day in the King Archon’s Porch or the <q>Red Court</q>; + I can’t vote to condemn that Heraclius who’s exported wheat contrary to the law.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Condemn?</q> cried Agis; <q>wasn’t the evidence very weak?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ay,</q> snorted Polus, <q>very weak, and the wretch pleaded piteously, setting his + wife and four little ones weeping on the stand. But we are resolved. <q>You are + boiling a stone—your plea’s no profit,</q> thought we. Our hearts vote <q>guilty,</q> if our heads say <q>innocent.</q> One mustn’t discourage honest + informers. What’s a patriot on a jury for if only to acquit? Holy Father Zeus, but + there’s a pleasure in dropping into the voting-urn the black bean which condemns!</q> + </p> + <pb n="64"/> + <anchor id="Pg064"/> + <p> + <q>Athena keep us, then, from litigation,</q> murmured Clearchus; while Crito opened his + fat lips to ask, <q>And what adjourns the courts?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A meeting of the assembly, to be sure. The embassy’s come back from Delphi with the + oracle we sought about the prospects of the war.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then Themistocles will speak,</q> observed the potter; <q>a very important + meeting.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Very important,</q> choked the juror, fishing a long piece of garlic from his wallet + and cramming it into his mouth with both hands. <q>What a noble statesman Themistocles + is! Only young Democrates will ever be like him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates?</q> squeaked out Crito. </p> + <p> + <q>Why, yes. Almost as eloquent as Themistocles. What zeal for democracy! What courage + against Persia! A Nestor, I say, in wisdom—</q> + </p> + <p> Agis gave a whistle. </p> + <p> + <q>A Nestor, perhaps. Yet if you knew, as I do, how some of his nights pass,—dice, + Rhodian fighting-cocks, dancing-girls, and worse things,—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’ll scarce believe it,</q> grunted the juror; yet then confessed somewhat ruefully, + <q>however, he is unfortunate in his bosom friend.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What do you mean?</q> demanded the potter. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon the Alcmæonid, to be sure. I cried <q><hi rend="italic">Io, pæan!</hi></q> as + loud as the others when he came back; still I weary of having a man always so + fortunate.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Even as you voted to banish Aristeides, Themistocles’s rival, because you were tired + of hearing him called <q>the Just.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>There’s much in that. Besides, he’s an Alcmæonid, and since their old murder of Cylon + the house has been under a blood curse. He has married the daughter of Hermippus, <pb n="65"/><anchor id="Pg065"/>who is too highly born to be faithful to the democracy. + He carries a Laconian cane,—sure sign of Spartanizing tendencies. He may conspire any + day to become tyrant.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hush,</q> warned Clearchus, <q>there he passes now, arm in arm with Democrates as + always, and on his way to the assembly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The men are much alike in build,</q> spoke Crito, slowly, <q>only Glaucon is + infinitely handsomer.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And infinitely less honest. I distrust your too beautiful and too lucky men,</q> + snapped Polus. </p> + <p> + <q>Envious dog,</q> commented Agis; and bitter personalities might have followed had not + a bell jangled from an adjacent portico. </p> + <p> + <q>Phormio, my brother-in-law, with fresh fish from Phaleron,</q> announced Polus, + drawing a coin from his wonted purse,—his cheek; <q>quick, friends, we must buy our + dinners.</q> + </p> + <p> Between the columns of the portico stood Phormio the fishmonger, behind a table heaped + with his scaly wares. He was a thick, florid man with blue eyes lit by a + <anchor id="corr065"/><corr sic="humorous">humourous</corr> + twinkle. His arms were crusted with brine. To his waist he was naked. As the friends + edged nearer he held up a turbot, calling for a bid. A clamour answered him. The throng + pressed up the steps, elbowing and scrambling. The competition was keen but + good-natured. Phormio’s broad jests and witticisms—he called all his customers by + name—aided in forcing up the price. The turbot was knocked down to a rich gentleman’s + cook marketing for his master. The pile of fish decreased, the bidding sharpened. The <q>Market Wardens</q> seemed needed to check the jostling. But as the last eel was held + up, came a cry— </p> + <p> + <q>Look out for the rope!</q> + </p> + <p> Phormio’s customers scattered. Scythian constables were <pb n="66"/><anchor id="Pg066"/>stretching cords dusted with red chalk across all exits from the Agora, + save that to the south. Soon the band began contracting its nets and driving a swarm of + citizens toward the remaining exit, for a red chalk-mark on a mantle meant a fine. + Traffic ceased instantly. Thousands crowded the lane betwixt the temples and porches, + seeking the assembly place,—through a narrow, ill-built way, but the great area of the + Pnyx opened before them like the slopes of some noble theatre. </p> + <p> No seats; rich and poor sat down upon the rocky ground. Under the open azure, at the + focus of the semicircle, with clear view before of the city, and to right of the red + cliffs of the Acropolis, rose a low platform hewn in the rock,—the <q>Bema,</q> the + orator’s pulpit. A few chairs for the magistrates and a small altar were its sole + furnishings. The multitude entered the Pnyx through two narrow entrances pierced in the + massy engirdling wall and took seats at pleasure; all were equals—the Alcmæonid, the + charcoal-seller from Acharnæ. Amid silence the chairman of the Council arose and put on + the myrtle crown,—sign that the sitting was opened. A herald besought blessings on the + Athenians and the Platæans their allies. A wrinkled seer carefully slaughtered a goose, + proclaimed that its entrails gave good omen, and cast the carcass on the altar. The + herald assured the people there was no rain, thunder, or other unlucky sign from heaven. + The pious accordingly breathed easier, and awaited the order of the day. </p> + <p> The decree of the Council convening the assembly was read; then the herald’s formal + proclamation:— </p> + <p> + <q>Who wishes to speak?</q> + </p> + <p> The answer was a groan from nigh every soul present. Three men ascended the Bema. They + bore the olive branches and laurel garlands, suppliants at Delphi; but their <pb n="67"/><anchor id="Pg067"/>cloaks were black. <q>The oracle is unfavourable! The gods + deliver us to Xerxes!</q> The thrill of horror went around the Pnyx. </p> + <p> The three stood an instant in gloomy silence. Then Callias the Rich, solemn and + impressive, their spokesman, told their eventful story. </p> + <p> + <q>Athenians, by your orders we have been to Delphi to inquire of the surest oracle in + Greece your destinies in the coming war. Hardly had we completed the accustomed + sacrifices in the Temple of Apollo, when the Pythoness Aristonice, sitting above the + sacred cleft whence comes the inspiring vapour, thus prophesied.</q> And Callias + repeated the hexameters which warned the Athenians that resistance to Xerxes would be + worse than futile; that Athens was doomed; concluding with the fearful line, <q>Get from + this temple afar, and brood on the ills that await ye.</q> + </p> + <p> In the pause, as Callias’s voice fell, the agony of the people became nigh + indescribable. Sturdy veterans who had met the Persian spears at Marathon blinked fast. + Many groaned, some cursed. Here and there a bold spirit dared to open his heart to + doubt, and to mutter, <q>Persian gold, the Pythoness was corrupted,</q> but quickly + hushed even such whispers as rank impiety. Then a voice close to the Bema rang out + loudly:— </p> + <p> + <q>And is this all the message, Callias?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The voice of Glaucon the Fortunate,</q> cried many, finding relief in words. <q>He is + a friend to the ambassador. There is a further prophecy.</q> + </p> + <p> The envoy, who had made his theatrical pause too long, continued:— </p> + <p> + <q>Such, men of Athens, was the answer; and we went forth in dire tribulation. Then a + certain noble Delphian, Timon by name, bade us take the olive branches and return to + the <pb n="68"/><anchor id="Pg068"/>Pythoness, saying, <q>O King Apollo, reverence + these boughs of supplication, and deliver a more comfortable answer concerning our + dear country. Else we will not leave thy sanctuary, but stay here until we die.</q> + Whereat the priestess gave us a second answer, gloomy and riddling, yet not so evil as + the first.</q> + </p> + <p> Again Callias recited his lines of doom, <q rend="post: none">that Athena had vainly + prayed to Zeus in behalf of her city, and that it was fated the foe should overrun all + Attica, yet</q> + </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none"><q rend="post: none">Safe shall the wooden wall continue for + thee and thy children;</q></q></l> + <l>Wait not the tramp of the horse, nor the footmen mightily moving</l> + <l>Over the land, but turn your back to the foe, and retire ye.</l> + <l>Yet a day shall arrive when ye shall meet him in battle.</l> + <l>Oh, holy Salamis, thou shalt destroy the offspring of women</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none"><q rend="pre: none">When men scatter the seed, or when they + gather the harvest.</q></q></l> + </lg> + <p> + <q>And that is all?</q> demanded fifty voices. </p> + <p> + <q>That is all,</q> and Callias quitted the Bema. Whereupon if agony had held the Pnyx + before, perplexity held it now. <q>The wooden wall?</q> + <q>Holy Salamis?</q> + <q>A great battle, but who is to conquer?</q> The feverish anxiety of the people at + length found its vent in a general shout. </p> + <p> + <q>The seers! Call the seers! Explain the oracle!</q> + </p> + <p> The demand had clearly been anticipated by the president of the Council. </p> + <p> + <q>Xenagoras the Cerycid is present. He is the oldest seer. Let us hearken to his + opinion.</q> + </p> + <p> The head of the greatest priestly family in Athens arose. He was a venerable man, + wearing his ribbon-decked robes of office. The president passed him the myrtle crown, as + token that he had the Bema. In a tense hush his voice sounded clearly. </p> + <p> + <q>I was informed of the oracles before the assembly met. The meaning is plain. By the + <q>wooden wall</q> is meant our <pb n="69"/><anchor id="Pg069"/>ships. But if we + risk a battle, we are told slaughter and defeat will follow. The god commands, + therefore, that without resistance we quit Attica, gathering our wives, our children, + and our goods, and sail away to some far country.</q> + </p> + <p> Xenagoras paused with the smile of him who performs a sad but necessary duty, removed + the wreath, and descended the Bema. </p> + <p> + <q>Quit Attica without a blow! Our fathers’ fathers’ sepulchres, the shrines of our + gods, the pleasant farmsteads, the land where our Attic race have dwelt from dimmest + time!</q> + </p> + <p> The thought shot chill through the thousands. Men sat in helpless silence, while many + a soul, as the gaze wandered up to the temple-crowned Acropolis, asked once, yes twice, + <q>Is not the yoke of Persia preferable to that?</q> Then after the silence broke the + clamour of voices. </p> + <p> + <q>The other seers! Do all agree with Xenagoras? Stand forth! stand forth!</q> + </p> + <p> Hegias, the <q>King Archon,</q> chief of the state religion, took the Bema. His speech + was brief and to the point. </p> + <p> + <q>All the priests and seers of Attica have consulted. Xenagoras speaks for them all + save Hermippus of the house of Eumolpus, who denies the others’ interpretation.</q> + </p> + <p> Confusion followed. Men rose, swung their arms, harangued madly from where they stood. + The chairman in vain ordered <q>Silence!</q> and was fain to bid the Scythian constables + restore order. An elderly farmer thrust himself forward, took the wreath, and poured out + his rustic wisdom from the Bema. His advice was simple. The oracle said <q>the wooden + wall</q> would be a bulwark, and by the wooden wall was surely meant the Acropolis + which had once been protected by a palisade. Let all Attica shut itself in the citadel + and endure a siege. </p> + <pb n="70"/> + <anchor id="Pg070"/> + <p> So far he had proceeded garrulously, but the high-strung multitude could endure no + more. <q><hi rend="italic">Kataba! Kataba!</hi></q> + <q>Go down! go down!</q> pealed the yell, emphasized by a shower of pebbles. The elder + tore the wreath from his head and fled the Bema. Then out of the confusion came a + general cry. </p> + <p> + <q>Cimon, son of Miltiades, speak to us!</q> + </p> + <p> But that young nobleman preserved a discreet silence, and the multitude turned to + another favourite. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates, son of Myscelus, speak to us!</q> + </p> + <p> The popular orator only wrapped his cloak about him, as he sat near the chairman’s + stand, never answering the call he rejoiced of wont to hear. </p> + <p> There were cries for Hermippus, cries even for Glaucon, as if prowess in the + pentathlon gave ability to unravel oracles. The athlete sitting beside Democrates merely + blushed and drew closer to his friend. Then at last the despairing people turned to + their last resource. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles, son of Neocles, speak to us!</q> + </p> + <p> Thrice the call in vain; but at the fourth time a wave of silence swept across the + Pnyx. A figure well beloved was taking the wreath and mounting the Bema. </p> + <p> The words of Themistocles that day were to ring in his hearer’s ears till life’s end. + The careless, almost sybaritic, man of the Isthmus and Eleusis seemed transfigured. For + one moment he stood silent, lofty, awe-inspiring. He had a mighty task: to calm the + superstitious fears of thirty thousand, to silence the prophets of evil, to infuse those + myriads with his own high courage. He began with a voice so low it would have seemed a + whisper if not audible to all the Pnyx. Quickly he warmed. His gestures became dramatic. + His voice rose to a trumpet-call. He swept his hearers with him as dry leaves before the + blast. <q>When he <pb n="71"/><anchor id="Pg071"/>began to weave his words, one might + have deemed him churlish, nay a fool, but when from his chest came his deep voice, and + words like unto flakes of winter snow, then who could with him contend?</q> Thus Homer + of Odysseus the Guileful, thus as truly of Themistocles saviour of Hellas. </p> + <p> First he told the old, but never wearisome story of the past of Athens. How, from the + days of Codrus long ago, Athens had never bowed the knee to an invader, how she had + wrested Salamis from greedy Megara, how she had hounded out the tyrannizing sons of + Peisistratus, how she had braved all the wrath of Persian Darius and dashed his huge + armament back at Marathon. With such a past, only a madman as well as traitor would + dream of submitting to Xerxes now. But as for the admonition of Xenagoras to quit Attica + and never strike a blow, Themistocles would have none of it. With a clearness that + appealed to every home-loving Hellene he pictured the fate of wanderers as only one step + better than that of slaves. What, then, was left? The orator had a decisive answer. Was + not the <q>wooden wall</q> which should endure for the Athenians the great fleet they + were just completing? And as for the fate of the battle the speaker had an unexpected + solution. <q>Holy Salamis,</q> spoke the Pythoness. And would she have said <q>holy,</q> + if the issue had been only woe to the sons of Athens? <q>Luckless Salamis</q> were then + more reasonably the word; yet the prophetess so far from predicting defeat had assured + them victory. </p> + <p> Thus ran the substance of the speech on which many a soul knew hung the mending or + ending of Hellas, but lit all through with gleams of wit, shades of pathos, outbursts of + eloquence which burned into the hearers’ hearts as though the speaker were a god. Then + at the end, Themistocles, knowing his audience was with him, delivered his peroration:— </p> + <pb n="72"/> + <anchor id="Pg072"/> + <p> + <q rend="post: none">Let him who trusts in oracles trust then in this, and in the old + prophecy of Epimenides that when the Persian comes it is to his hurt. But I will say + with Hector of Troy, <q>One oracle is best—to fight for one’s native country.</q> + Others may vote as they will. My vote is that if the foe by land be too great, we + retire before him to our ships, ay, forsake even well-loved Attica, but only that we + may trust to the <q>wooden wall,</q> and fight the Great King by sea at Salamis. We + contend not with gods but with men. Let others fear. I will trust to Athena + Polias,—the goddess terrible in battle. Hearken then to Solon the Wise (the orator + pointed toward the temple upon the soaring Acropolis):—</q> + </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none"><q rend="post: none">Our Athens need fear no hurt</q></q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though gods may conspire her ill.</l> + <l>The hand that hath borne us up,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">It guides us and guards us still.</l> + <l>Athena, the child of Zeus,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">She watches and knows no fear.</l> + <l>The city rests safe from harm</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post: none; pre: none"><q rend="pre: none">Beneath her + protecting spear.</q></q></l> + </lg> + <p> + <q rend="pre: none">Thus trusting in Athena, we will meet the foe at Salamis and will + destroy him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who wishes to speak?</q> called the herald. The Pnyx answered together. The vote to + retire from Attica if needs be, to strengthen the fleet, to risk all in a great battle, + was carried with a shout. Men ran to Themistocles, calling him, <q>Peitho,—Queen + Persuasion.</q> He made light of their praises, and walked with his handsome head + tossed back toward the general’s office by the Agora, to attend to some routine + business. Glaucon, Cimon, and Democrates went westward to calm their exhilaration with a + ball-game at the gymnasium of Cynosarges. On the way Glaucon called attention to a + foreigner that passed them. </p> + <pb n="73"/> + <anchor id="Pg073"/> + <p> + <q>Look, Democrates, that fellow is wonderfully like the honest barbarian who applauded + me at the Isthmus.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates glanced twice. </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Glaucon,</q> said he, <q>that fellow had a long blond beard, while this man’s is + black as a crow.</q> And he spoke the truth; yet despite the disguise he clearly + recognized the <q>Cyprian.</q> + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="7" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="74"/> + <anchor id="Pg074"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER VII</head> + <head type="sub"> DEMOCRATES AND THE TEMPTER </head> + <p> In the northern quarter of Athens the suburb of Alopece thrust itself under the slopes + of Mt. Lycabettus, that pyramid of tawny rock which formed the rear bulwark, as it were, + of every landscape of Athens. The dwellings in the suburb were poor, though few even in + the richer quarters were at all handsome; the streets barely sixteen feet wide, + ill-paved, filthy, dingy. A line of dirty gray stucco house-fronts was broken only by + the small doors and the smaller windows in the second story. Occasionally a two-faced + bust of Hermes stood before a portal, or a marble lion’s head spouted into a corner + water trough. All Athenian streets resembled these. The citizen had his Pnyx, his + Jury-Court, his gossiping Agora for his day. These dingy streets sufficed for the dogs, + the slaves, and the women, whom wise Zeus ordered to remain at home. </p> + <p> Phormio the fishmonger had returned from his traffic, and sat in his house-door + meditating over a pot of sour wine and watching the last light flickering on the great + bulk of the mountain. He had his sorrows,—good man,—for Lampaxo his worthy wife, long + of tongue, short of temper, thrifty and very watchful, was reminding him for the seventh + time that he had sold a carp half an obol too cheap. His patience indeed that evening + was so near to exhaustion that after <pb n="75"/><anchor id="Pg075"/>cursing inwardly + the <q>match-maker</q> who had saddled this Amazon upon him, he actually found courage + for an outbreak. He threw up his arms after the manner of a tragic actor:— </p> + <p> + <q>True, true is the word of Hesiod!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>True is what?</q> flew back none too gently. </p> + <p> + <q><q>The fool first suffers and is after wise.</q> Woman, I am resolved.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>On what?</q> Lampaxo’s voice was soft as broken glass. </p> + <p> + <q>Years increase. I shan’t live long. We are childless. I will provide for you in my + will by giving you in marriage to Hyperphon.</q><note place="foot">Attic law allowed a + husband to will his wife to a friend.</note></p> + <p> + <q>Hyperphon!</q> screamed the virago, <q>Hyperphon the beggarly hunchback, the + laughing-stock of Athens! O Mother Hera!—but I see the villain’s aim. You are weary + of me. Then divorce me like an honourable man. Send me back to Polus my dear brother. + Ah, you sheep, you are silent! You think of the two-minæ dowry you must then refund. + Woe is me! I’ll go to the King Archon. I’ll charge you with gross abuse. The jury will + condemn you. There’ll be fines, fetters, stocks, prison—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace,</q> groaned Phormio, terrified at the Gorgon, <q>I only thought—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>How dared you think? What permitted—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Good evening, sweet sister and Phormio!</q> The salutation came from Polus, who with + Clearchus had approached unheralded. Lampaxo smoothed her ruffled feathers. Phormio + stifled his sorrows. Dromo, the half-starved slave-boy, brought a pot of thin wine to + his betters. The short southern twilight was swiftly passing into night. Groups of young + men wandered past, bound homeward from the Cynosarges, the Academy, or some other + well-loved gym<pb n="76"/><anchor id="Pg076"/>nasium. In an hour the streets would be + dark and still, except for a belated guest going to his banquet, a Scythian constable, + or perhaps a cloak thief. For your Athenian, when he had no supper invitation, went to + bed early and rose early, loving the sunlight far better than the flicker of his + uncertain lamps. </p> + <p> + <q>And did the jury vote <q>guilty</q>?</q> was Phormio’s first question of his + brother-in-law. </p> + <p> + <q>We were patriotically united. There were barely any white beans for acquittal in the + urn. The scoundrelly grain-dealer is stripped of all he possesses and sent away to beg + in exile. A noble service to Athens!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Despite the evidence,</q> murmured Clearchus; but Lampaxo’s shrill voice answered her + brother:— </p> + <p> + <q>It’s my opinion you jurors should look into a case directly opposite this house. + Spies, I say, Persian spies.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Spies!</q> cried Polus, leaping up as from a coal; <q>why, Phormio, haven’t you + denounced them? It’s compounding with treason even to fail to report—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace, brother,</q> chuckled the fishmonger, <q>your sister smells for treason as a + dog for salt fish. There is a barbarian carpet merchant—a Babylonian, I presume—who + has taken the empty chambers above Demas’s shield factory opposite. He seems a quiet, + inoffensive man; there are a hundred other foreign merchants in the city. One can’t + cry <q>Traitor!</q> just because the poor wight was not born to speak Greek.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not like Babylonish merchants,</q> propounded Polus, dogmatically; <q>to the + jury with him, I say!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>At least he has a visitor,</q> asserted Clearchus, who had long been silent. <q>See, + a gentleman wrapped in a long himation is going up to the door and standing up his + walking stick.</q> + </p> + <pb n="77"/> + <anchor id="Pg077"/> + <p> + <q>And if I have eyes,</q> vowed the juror, squinting through his hands in the half + light, <q>that closely wrapped man is Glaucon the Alcmæonid.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Or Democrates,</q> remarked Clearchus; <q>they look much alike from behind. It’s + getting dark.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Well,</q> decided Phormio, <q>we can easily tell. He has left his stick below by the + door. Steal across, Polus, and fetch it. It must be carved with the owner’s name.</q> + </p> + <p> The juror readily obeyed; but to read the few characters on the crooked handle was + beyond the learning of any save Clearchus, whose art demanded the mystery of writing. </p> + <p> + <q>I was wrong,</q> he confessed, after long scrutiny, <q><q>Glaucon, son of Conon.</q> + It is very plain. Put the cane back, Polus.</q> + </p> + <p> The cane was returned, but the juror pulled a very long face. </p> + <p> + <q>Dear friends, here is a man I’ve already suspected of undemocratic sentiments + conferring with a Barbarian. Good patriots cannot be too vigilant. A plot, I assert. + Treason to Athens and Hellas! Freedom’s in danger. Henceforth I shall look on Glaucon + the Alcmæonid as an enemy of liberty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Phui!</hi></q> almost shouted Phormio, whose sense of humour was + keen, <q>a noble conspiracy! Glaucon the Fortunate calls on a Babylonish merchant by + night. You say to plot against Athens. I say to buy his pretty wife a carpet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The gods will some day explain,</q> said Clearchus, winding up the argument,—and so + for a little while the four forgot all about Glaucon. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Despite the cane, Clearchus was right. The visitor was Democrates. The orator mounted + the dark stair above the shield-factory and knocked against a door, calling, <q><hi rend="italic">Pai! Pai!</hi></q> + <q>Boy! boy!</q> a summons answered by none other than <pb n="78"/><anchor id="Pg078"/>the ever smiling Hiram. The Athenian, however, was little prepared for the luxury, nay + splendour, which greeted him, once the Phœnician had opened the door. The bare chamber + had been transformed. The foot sank into the glowing carpets of Kerman and Bactria. The + gold-embroidered wall tapestries were of Sidonian purple. The divans were covered with + wondrous stuff which Democrates could not name,—another age would call it silk. A + tripod smoked with fragrant Arabian frankincense. Silver lamps, swinging from silver + chains, gave brilliant light. The Athenian stood wonderbound, until a voice, not + Hiram’s, greeted him. </p> + <p> + <q>Welcome, Athenian,</q> spoke the Cyprian, in his quaint, eastern accent. It was the + strange guest in the tavern by Corinth. The Prince—prince surely, whatever his other + title—was in the same rich dress as at the Isthmus, only his flowing beard had been + dyed raven black. Yet Democrates’s eyes were diverted instantly to the peculiarly + handsome slave-boy on the divan beside his master. The boy’s dress, of a rare blue + stuff, enveloped him loosely. His hair was as golden as the gold thread on the round + cap. In the shadows the face almost escaped the orator,—he thought he saw clear blue + eyes and a marvellously brilliant, almost girlish, bloom and freshness. The presence of + this slave caused the Athenian to hesitate, but the Cyprian bade him be seated, with one + commanding wave of the hand. </p> + <p> + <q>This is Smerdis, my constant companion. He is a mute. Yet if otherwise, I would trust + him as myself.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates, putting by surprise, began to look on his host fixedly. </p> + <p> + <q>My dear Barbarian, for that you are a Hellene you will not pretend, you realize, I + trust, you incur considerable danger in visiting Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am not anxious,</q> observed the Prince, composedly. <pb n="79"/><anchor id="Pg079"/><q>Hiram is watchful and skilful. You see I have dyed my hair and beard + black and pass for a Babylonish merchant.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>With all except me, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>,—<q>dearest friend,</q> as we + say in Athens.</q> Democrates’s smile was not wholly agreeable. </p> + <p> + <q>With all except you,</q> assented the Prince, fingering the scarlet tassel of the + cushion whereon he sat. <q>I reckoned confidently that you would come to visit me when I + sent Hiram to you. Yes—I have heard the story that is on your tongue: one of + Themistocles’s busybodies has brought a rumour that a certain great man of the Persian + court is missing from the side of his master, and you have been requested to greet + that nobleman heartily if he should come to Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You know a great deal!</q> cried the orator, feeling his forehead grow hot. </p> + <p> + <q>It is pleasant to know a great deal,</q> smiled back the Prince, carelessly, while + Hiram entered with a tray and silver goblets brimming with violet-flavoured sherbet; <q>I have innumerable <q>Eyes-and-ears.</q> You have heard the name? One of the chief + officers of his Majesty is <q>The Royal Eye.</q> You Athenians are a valiant and in + many things a wise people, yet you could grow in wisdom by looking well to the + East.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am confident,</q> exclaimed Democrates, thrusting back the goblet, <q>if your + Excellency requires a noble game of wits, you can have one. I need only step to the + window, and cry <q>Spies!</q>—after which your Excellency can exercise your wisdom + and eloquence defending your life before one of our Attic juries.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Which is a polite and patriotic manner of saying, dearest Athenian, you are not + prepared to push matters to such unfortunate extremity. I omit what his Majesty might + do in the way of taking vengeance; sufficient that if aught unfor<pb n="80"/><anchor id="Pg080"/>tunate befalls me, or Hiram, or this my slave Smerdis, while we are in + Athens, a letter comes to your noble chief Themistocles from the banker Pittacus of + Argos.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates, who had risen to his feet, had been flushed before. He became pale now. + The hand that clutched the purple tapestry was trembling. The words rose to his lips, + the lips refused to utter them. The Prince, who had delivered his threat most quietly, + went on, <q>In short, good Democrates, I was aware before I came to Athens of our + necessities, and I came because I was certain I could relieve them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Never!</q> The orator shot the word out desperately. </p> + <p> + <q>You are a Hellene.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Am I ashamed of it?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not, however, affect to be more virtuous than your race. Persians make their boast + of truth-telling and fidelity. You Hellenes, I hear, have even a god—Hermes + Dolios,—who teaches you lying and thieving. The customs of nations differ. Mazda the + Almighty alone knoweth which is best. Follow then the customs of Hellenes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You speak in riddles.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Plainer, then. You know the master I serve. You guess who I am, though you shall not + name me. For what sum will you serve Xerxes the Great King?</q> + </p> + <p> The orator’s breath came deep. His hands clasped and unclasped, then were pressed + behind his head. </p> + <p> + <q>I told Lycon, and I tell you, I am no traitor to Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Which means, of course, you demand a fair price. I am not angry. You will find a + Persian pays like the lord he is, and that his darics always ring true metal.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’ll hear no more. I was a fool to meet Lycon at Corinth, doubly a fool to meet you + to-night. Farewell.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates seized the latch. The door was locked. He <pb n="81"/><anchor id="Pg081"/>turned furiously on the Barbarian. <q>Do you keep me by force? Have a care. I can be + terrible if driven to bay. The window is open. One shout—</q> + </p> + <p> The Cyprian had risen, and quietly, but with a grip like iron on Democrates’s wrist, + led the orator back to the divan. </p> + <p> + <q>You can go free in a twinkling, but hear you shall. Before you boast of your power, + you shall know all of mine. I will recite your condition. Contradict if I say anything + amiss. Your father Myscelus was of the noble house of Codrus, a great name in Athens, + but he left you no large estate. You were ambitious to shine as an orator and leader + of the Athenians. To win popularity you have given great feasts. At the last festival + of the Theseia you fed the poor of Athens on sixty oxen washed down with good Rhodian + wine. All that made havoc in your patrimony.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By Zeus, you speak as if you lived all your life in Athens!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have said <q>I have many eyes.</q> But to continue. You gave the price of the + tackling for six of the triremes with which Themistocles pretends to believe he can + beat back my master. Worse still, you have squandered many minæ on flute girls, dice, + cock-fights, and other gentle pleasures. In short your patrimony is not merely + exhausted but overspent. That, however, is not the most wonderful part of my + recital.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>How dare you pry into my secrets?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Be appeased, dear Athenian; it is much more interesting to know you deny nothing of + all I say. It is now five months since you were appointed by your sagacious Athenian + assembly as commissioner to administer the silver taken from the mines at Laurium and + devoted to your navy. You fulfilled the people’s confidence by diverting much of this + money to the payment of your own great debts to the banker Pittacus of Argos. At + present you are <q>watching the moon,</q> + <pb n="82"/><anchor id="Pg082"/>as you say here in Athens,—I mean, that at the end + of this month you must account to the people for all the money you have handled, and + at this hour are at your wits’ ends to know whence the repayment will come.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That is all you know of me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates sighed with relief. <q>Then you have yet to complete the story, my dear + Barbarian. I have adventured on half the cargo of a large merchantman bringing timber + and tin from Massalia; I look every day for a messenger from Corinth with news of her + safe arrival. Upon her coming I can make good all I owe and still be a passing rich + man.</q> + </p> + <p> If the Cyprian was discomposed at this announcement, he did not betray it. </p> + <p> + <q>The sea is frightfully uncertain, good Democrates. Upon it, as many fortunes are lost + as are made.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have offered due prayers to Poseidon, and vowed a gold tripod on the ship’s + arrival.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>So even your gods in Hellas have their price,</q> was the retort, with an + ill-concealed sneer. <q>Do not trust them. Take ten talents from me and to-night sleep + sweetly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your price?</q> the words slipped forth involuntarily. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles’s private memoranda for the battle-order of your new fleet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Avert it, gods! The ship will reach Corinth, I warn you—</q> Democrates’s gestures + became menacing, as again he rose, <q>I will set you in Themistocles’s hand as + soon—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But not to-night.</q> The Prince rose, smiled, held out his hand. <q>Unbar the door + for his Excellency, Hiram. And you, noble sir, think well of all I said at Corinth on + the certain victory of my master; think also—</q> the voice fell—<q>how Democrates + the Codrid could be sovereign of Athens under the protection of Persia.</q> + </p> + <pb n="83"/> + <anchor id="Pg083"/> + <p> + <q>I tyrant of Athens?</q> the orator clapped his hand behind his back; <q>you say + enough. Good evening.</q> + </p> + <p> He was on the threshold, when the slave-boy touched his master’s hand in silent + signal. </p> + <p> + <q>And if there be any fair woman you desire,</q>—how gliding the Cyprian’s voice!—<q>shall not the power of Xerxes the great give her unto you?</q> + </p> + <p> Why did Democrates feel his forehead turn to flame? Why—almost against will—did he + stretch forth his hand to the Cyprian? He went down the stair scarce feeling the steps + beneath him. At the bottom voices greeted him from across the darkened street. </p> + <p> + <q>A fair evening, Master Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A fair evening,</q> his mechanical answer; then to himself; as he walked away, <q>Wherefore call me Glaucon? I have somewhat his height, though not his shoulder. + Ah,—I know it, I have chanced to borrow his carved walking-stick. Impudent creatures + to read the name!</q> + </p> + <p> He had not far to go. Athens was compactly built, all quarters close together. Yet + before he reached home and bed, he was fighting back an ill-defined but terrible + thought. <q>Glaucon! They think I am Glaucon. If I chose to betray the Cyprian—</q> + Further than that he would not suffer the thought to go. He lay sleepless, fighting + against it. The dark was full of the harpies of uncanny suggestion. He arose + unrefreshed, to proffer every god the same prayer: <q>Deliver me from evil imaginings. + Speed the ship to Corinth.</q> + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="8" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="84"/> + <anchor id="Pg084"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER VIII</head> + <head type="sub"> ON THE ACROPOLIS </head> + <p> The Acropolis of Athens rises as does no other citadel in the world. Had no workers in + marble or bronze, no weavers of eloquence or song, dwelt beneath its shadow, it would + stand the centre and cynosure of a remarkable landscape. It is <q><hi rend="italic">The + Rock</hi>,</q> no other like unto it. Is it enough to say its ruddy limestone rises + as a huge boulder one hundred and fifty feet above the plain, that its breadth is five + hundred, its length one thousand? Numbers and measures can never disclose a soul,—and + the Rock of Athens has all but a soul: a soul seems to glow through its adamant when the + fire-footed morning steals over the long crest of Hymettus, and touches the citadel’s + red bulk with unearthly brightness; a soul when the day falls to sleep in the arms of + night as Helios sinks over the western hill by Daphni. Then the Rock seems to throb and + burn with life again. </p> + <p> It is so bare that the hungry goats can hardly crop one spear of grass along its + jagged slopes. It is so steep it scarce needs defence against an army. It is so + commanding that he who stands on the westmost pinnacle can look across the windy hill of + the Pnyx, across the brown plain-land and down to the sparkling blue sea with the busy + havens of Peiræus and Phalerum, the scattered gray isles of the Ægean, and far away to + the domelike crest of Acro-Corinthus. Let him turn to the right: below him nestles the + <pb n="85"/><anchor id="Pg085"/>gnarled hill of Areopagus, home of the Furies, the + buzzing plaza of the Agora, the closely clustered city. Behind, there spread mountain, + valley, plain,—here green, here brown, here golden,—with Pentelicus the Mighty rearing + behind all, his summits fretted white, not with winter snows, but with lustrous marble. + Look to the left: across the view passes the shaggy ridge of Hymettus, arid and scarred, + as if wrought by the Titans, home only of goats and bees, of nymphs and satyrs. </p> + <p> That was almost the self-same vision in the dim past when the first savage clambered + this <q>Citadel of Cecrops</q> and spoke, <q>Here is my dwelling-place.</q> This will be + the vision until earth and ocean are no more. The human habitation changes, the temples + rise and crumble; the red and gray rock, the crystalline air, the sapphire sea, come + from the god, and these remain. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb"/> + + <p> Glaucon and Hermione were come together to offer thanks to Athena for the glory of the + Isthmus. The athlete had already mounted the citadel heading a myrtle-crowned procession + to bear a formal thanksgiving, but his wife had not then been with him. Now they would + go together, without pomp. They walked side by side. Nimble Chloë tripped behind with + her mistress’s parasol. Old Manes bore the bloodless sacrifice, but Hermione said in her + heart there came two too many. </p> + <p> Many a friendly eye, many a friendly word, followed as they crossed the Agora, where + traffic was in its morning bustle. Glaucon answered every greeting with his winsome + smile. </p> + <p> + <q>All Athens seems our friend!</q> he said, as close by the Tyrannicides’ statues at + the upper end of the plaza a grave councilman bowed and an old bread woman left her + stall to bob a courtesy. </p> + <pb n="86"/> + <anchor id="Pg086"/> + <p> + <q>Is <hi rend="italic">your</hi> friend,</q> corrected Hermione, thinking only of her + husband, <q>for I have won no pentathlon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>, dearest and best,</q> he answered, looking not on + the glorious citadel but on her face, <q>could I have won the parsley wreath had there + been no better wreath awaiting me at Eleusis? And to-day I am gladdest of the glad. + For the gods have sent me blessings beyond desert, I no longer fear their envy as + once. I enjoy honour with all good men. I have no enemy in the world. I have the + dearest of friends, Cimon, Themistocles—beyond all, Democrates. I am blessed in love + beyond Peleus espoused to Thetis, or Anchises beloved of Aphrodite, for my golden + Aphrodite lives not on Olympus, nor Paphos, nor comes on her doves from Cythera, but + dwells—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace.</q> The hand laid on his mouth was small but firm. <q>Do not anger the goddess + by likening me unto her. It is joy enough for me if I can look up at the sun and say, + <q>I keep the love of Glaucon the Fortunate and the Good.</q></q> + </p> + <p> Walking thus in their golden dream, the two crossed the Agora, turned to the left from + the Pnyx, and by crooked lanes went past the craggy rock of Areopagus, till before them + rose a wooden palisade and a gate. Through this a steep path led upward to the citadel. + Not to the Acropolis of fame. The buildings then upon the Rock in one short year would + lie in heaps of fire-scarred ruin. Yet in that hour before Glaucon and Hermione a not + unworthy temple rose, the old <q>House of Athena,</q> prototype of the later Parthenon. + In the morning light it stood in beauty—a hundred Doric columns, a sculptured pediment, + flashing with white marble and with tints of scarlet, blue, and gold. Below it, over the + irregular plateau of the Rock, spread avenues of votive statues of gods and heroes in + stone, bronze, or painted wood. Here <pb n="87"/><anchor id="Pg087"/>and there were + numerous shrines and small temples, and a giant altar for burning a hundred oxen. So + hand in hand the twain went to the bronze portal of the Temple. The kindly old priest on + guard smiled as he sprinkled them with the purifying salt water out of the brazen laver. + The door closed behind them. For a moment they seemed to stand in the high temple in + utter darkness. Then far above through the marble roof a softened light came creeping + toward them. As from unfolding mist, the great calm face of the ancient goddess looked + down with its unchanging smile. A red coal glowed on the tripod at her feet. Glaucon + shook incense over the brazier. While it smoked, Hermione laid the crown of lilies + between the knees of the half-seen image, then her husband lifted his hands and prayed + aloud. </p> + <p> + <q>Athena, Virgin, Queen, Deviser of Wisdom,—whatever be the name thou lovest + best,—accept this offering and hear. Bless now us both. Give us to strive for the + noblest, to speak the wise word, to love one another. Give us prosperity, but not unto + pride. Bless all our friends; but if we have enemies, be thou their enemy also. And so + shall we praise thee forever.</q> + </p> + <p> This was all the prayer and worship. A little more meditation, then husband and wife + went forth from the sacred cella. The panorama—rocks, plain, sea, and bending + heavens—opened before them in glory. The light faded upon the purple breasts of the + western mountains. Behind the Acropolis, Lycabettus’s pyramid glowed like a furnace. The + marble on distant Pentelicus shone dazzlingly. </p> + <p> Glaucon stood on the easternmost pinnacle of the Rock, watching the landscape. </p> + <p> + <q>Joy, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>, joy,</q> he cried, <q>we possess one another. We + dwell in <q>violet-crowned Athens</q>; for what else dare we to pray?</q> + </p> + <pb n="88"/> + <anchor id="Pg088"/> + <p> But Hermione pointed less pleased toward the crest of Pentelicus. </p> + <p> + <q>Behold it! How swiftly yonder gray cloud comes on a rushing wind! It will cover the + brightness. The omen is bad.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why bad, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The cloud is the Persian. He hangs to-day as a thunder-cloud above Athens and Hellas. + Xerxes will come. And you—</q> + </p> + <p> She pressed closer to her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>Why speak of me?</q> he asked lightly. </p> + <p> + <q>Xerxes brings war. War brings sorrow to women. It is not the hateful and old that the + spears and the arrows love best.</q> + </p> + <p> Half compelled by the omen, half by a sudden burst of unoccasioned fear, her eyes + shone with tears; but her husband’s laugh rang clearly. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> dry your eyes, and look before you. King Æolus scatters + the cloud upon his briskest winds. It breaks into a thousand bits. So shall + Themistocles scatter the hordes of Xerxes. The Persian shadow shall come, shall go, + and again we shall be happy in beautiful Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Athena grant it!</q> prayed Hermione. </p> + <p> + <q>We can trust the goddess,</q> returned Glaucon, not to be shaken from his happy mood. + <q>And now that we have paid our vows to her, let us descend. Our friends are already + waiting for us by the Pnyx before they go down to the harbours.</q> + </p> + <p> As they went down the steep, Cimon and Democrates came running to join them, and in + the brisk chatter that arose the omen of the cloud and fears of the Persian faded from + Hermione’s mind. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <pb n="89"/> + <anchor id="Pg089"/> + <p> It was a merry party such as often went down to the havens of Athens in the springtime + and summer: a dozen gentlemen, old and young, for the most part married, and followed + demurely by their wives with the latter’s maids, and many a stout Thracian slave tugging + hampers of meat and drink. Laughter there was, admixed with wiser talk; friends walking + by twos and threes, with Themistocles, as always, seeming to mingle with all and to + surpass every one both in jests and in wisdom. So they fared down across the broad + plain-land to the harbours, till the hill Munychia rose steep before them. A scramble + over a rocky, ill-marked way led to the top; then before them broke a second view + comparable almost to that from the Rock of Athena: at their feet lay the four blue + havens of Athens, to the right Phaleron, closer at hand the land-locked bay of Munychia, + beyond that Zea, beyond that still a broader sheet—Peiræus, the new war-harbour of + Athens. They could look down on the brown roofs of the port-town, the forest of masts, + the merchantman unloading lumber from the Euxine, the merchantman loading dried figs for + Syria; but most of all on the numbers of long black hulls, some motionless on the placid + harbour, some propped harmlessly on the shore. Hermione clouded as she saw them, and + glanced away. </p> + <p> + <q>I do not love your new fleet, Themistocles,</q> she said, frowning at the handsome + statesman; <q>I do not love anything that tells so clearly of war. It mars the + beauty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Rather you should rejoice we have so fair a wooden wall against the Barbarian, dear + lady,</q> answered he, quite at ease. <q>What can we do to hearten her, + Democrates?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Were I only Zeus,</q> rejoined the orator, who never was far from his best friend’s + wife, <q>I would cast two thunderbolts, one to destroy Xerxes, the second to blast + Themistocles’s armada,—so would the Lady Hermione be satisfied.</q> + </p> + <pb n="90"/> + <anchor id="Pg090"/> + <p> + <q>I am sorry, then, you are not the Olympian,</q> said the woman, half smiling at the + pleasantry. Cimon interrupted them. Some of the party had caught a sun-burned shepherd + in among the rocks, a veritable Pan in his shaggy goat-skin. The bribe of two obols + brought him out with his pipe. Four of the slave-boys fell to dancing. The party sat + down upon the burnt grass,—eating, drinking, wreathing poppy-crowns, and watching the + nimble slaves and the ships that crawled like ants in the haven and bay below. Thus + passed the noon, and as the sun dropped toward craggy Salamis across the strait, the men + of the party wandered down to the ports and found boats to take them out upon the bay. </p> + <p> The wind was a zephyr. The water spread blue and glassy. The sun was sinking as a ball + of infinite light. Themistocles, Democrates, and Glaucon were in one skiff, the athlete + at the oars. They glided past the scores of black triremes swinging lazily at anchor. + Twice they pulled around the proudest of the fleet,—the <anchor id="corr090"/><corr sic="Nausicäa"><name type="ship">Nausicaä</name></corr>, the gift of Hermippus to the state, a princely gift even in days when + every Athenian put his all at the public service. She would be Themistocles’s flag-ship. + The young men noted her fine lines, her heavy side timbers, the covered decks, an + innovation in Athenian men-of-war, and Themistocles put a loving hand on the keen bronze + beak as they swung around the prow. </p> + <p> + <q>Here’s a tooth for the Persian king!</q> he was laughing, when a second skiff, + rounding the trireme in an opposite direction, collided abruptly. A lurch, a few + splinters was all the hurt, but as the boats parted Themistocles rose from his seat in + the stern, staring curiously. </p> + <p> + <q>Barbarians, by Athena’s owls, the knave at the oars is a sleek Syrian, and his master + and the boy from the East too. What business around our war-fleet? Row after them, + Glaucon; we’ll question—</q> + </p> + <pb n="91"/> + <anchor id="Pg091"/> + <p> + <q>Glaucon does no such folly,</q> spoke Democrates, instantly, from the bow; <q>if the + harbour-watch doesn’t interfere with honest traders, what’s it to us?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>As you like it.</q> Themistocles resumed his seat. <q>Yet it would do no harm. Now + they row to another trireme. With what falcon eyes the master of the trio examines it! + Something uncanny, I repeat.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To examine everything strange,</q> proclaimed Democrates, sententiously, <q>needs the + life of a crow, who, they say, lives a thousand years, but I don’t see any black wings + budding on Themistocles’s shoulders. Pull onward, Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whither?</q> demanded the rower. </p> + <p> + <q>To Salamis,</q> ordered Themistocles. <q>Let us see the battle-place foretold by the + oracle.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To Salamis or clear to Crete,</q> rejoined Glaucon, setting his strength upon the + oars and making the skiff bound, <q>if we can find water deep enough to drown those + gloomy looks that have sat on Democrates’s brows of late.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not gloomy but serious,</q> said the young orator, with an attempt at lightness; <q>I + have been preparing my oration against the contractor I’ve indicted for embezzling the + public naval stores.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Destroy the man!</q> cried the rower. </p> + <p> + <q>And yet I really pity him; he was under great temptation.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No excuses; the man who robs the city in days like these is worse than he who betrays + fortresses in most wars.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I see you are a savage patriot, Glaucon,</q> said Themistocles, <q>despite your + Adonis face. We are fairly upon the bay; our nearest eavesdroppers, yon fishermen, are + a good five furlongs. Would you see something?</q> Glaucon rested on the oars, while + the statesman fumbled in his breast. He drew out a papyrus sheet, which he passed to the + rower, he in turn to Democrates. </p> + <pb n="92"/> + <anchor id="Pg092"/> + <p> + <q>Look well, then, for I think no Persian spies are here. A month long have I wrought + on this bit of papyrus. All my wisdom flowed out of my pen when I spread the ink. In + short here is the ordering of the ships of the allied Greeks when we meet Xerxes in + battle. Leonidas and our other chiefs gave me the task when we met at Corinth. To-day + it is complete. Read it, for it is precious. Xerxes would give twenty talents for this + one leaf from Egypt.</q> + </p> + <p> The young men peered at the sheet curiously. The details and diagrams were few and + easy to remember, the Athenian ships here, the Æginetan next, the Corinthian next, and + so with the other allies. A few comments on the use of the light + <anchor id="corr092"/><corr sic="pentaconters">penteconters</corr> behind the + heavy triremes. A few more comments on Xerxes’s probable naval tactics. Only the + knowledge that Themistocles never committed himself in speech or writing without + exhausting every expedient told the young men of the supreme importance of the paper. + After due inspection the statesman replaced it in his breast. </p> + <p> + <q>You two have seen this,</q> he announced, seemingly proud of his handiwork; <q>Leonidas shall see this, then Xerxes, and after that—</q> he laughed, but not in + jest—<q>men will remember Themistocles, son of Neocles!</q> + </p> + <p> The three lapsed into silence for a moment. The skiff was well out upon the sea. The + shadows of the hills of Salamis and of Ægelaos, the opposing mountain of Attica, were + spreading over them. Around the islet of Psyttaleia in the strait the brown fisher-boats + were gliding. Beyond the strait opened the blue hill-girdled bay of Eleusis, now turning + to fire in the evening sun. Everything was peaceful, silent, beautiful. Again Glaucon + rested on his oars and let his eyes wander. </p> + <p> + <q>How true is the word of Thales the Sage,</q> he spoke; <q><q>the world is the fairest + of all fair things, because it is the <pb n="93"/><anchor id="Pg093"/>work of + God.</q> It cannot be that, here, between these purple hills and the glistening sea, + there will come that battle beside which the strife of Achilles and Hector before Troy + shall pass as nothing!</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles shook his head. </p> + <p> + <q rend="post: none">We do not know; we are dice in the high gods’ dice-boxes.</q> + </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none"><q>Man all vainly shall scan the mind of the Prince of + Olympus.</q></q></l> + </lg> + <p> + <anchor id="corr093"/><corr sic="quote missing"/><q>We can say nothing wiser than that. We can but use our + Attic mother wit, and trust the rest to destiny. Let us be satisfied if we hope that + destiny is not blind.</q> + </p> + <p> They drifted many moments in silence. </p> + <p> + <q>The sun sinks lower,</q> spoke Democrates, at length; <q>so back again to the + havens.</q> + </p> + <p> On the return Themistocles once more vowed he caught a glimpse of the skiff of the + unknown foreigners, but Democrates called it mere phantasy. Hermione met them at the + Peiræus, and the party wandered back through the gathering dusk to the city, where each + little group went its way. Themistocles went to his own house, where he said he expected + Sicinnus; Cimon and Democrates sought a tavern for an evening cup; Glaucon and Hermione + hastened to their house in the Colonus suburb near the trickling Cephissus, where in the + starlit night the tettix<note place="foot">A kind of grasshopper peculiar to + Greece.</note> in the black old olives by the stream made its monotonous music, where + great fireflies gleamed, where Philomela the nightingale called, and the tall plane + trees whispered softly to the pines. When Hermione fell asleep, she had forgotten about + the coming of the Persian, and dreamed that Glaucon was Eros, she was Psyche, and that + Zeus was giving her the wings of a butterfly and a crown of stars. </p> + <pb n="94"/> + <anchor id="Pg094"/> + <p> Democrates went home later. After the heady Pramnian at the tavern, he roved away with + Cimon and others to serenade beneath the lattice of a lady—none too prudish—in the + Ceramicus quarter. But the fair one was cruel that night, and her slaves repelled the + minstrels with pails of hot water from an upper window. Democrates thereupon quitted the + party. His head was very befogged, but he could not expel one idea from it—that + Themistocles had revealed that day a priceless secret, that the statesman and Glaucon + and he himself were the only men who shared it, and that it was believed that Glaucon + had visited the Babylonish carpet-seller. Joined to this was an overpowering + consciousness that Helen of Troy was not so lovely as Hermione of Eleusis. When he came + to his lodgings, however, his wits cleared in a twinkling after he had read two letters. + The first was short. </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q>Themistocles to Democrates:—This evening I begin to discover something. + Sicinnus, who has been searching in Athens, is certain there is a Persian agent in the + city. Seize him.—<hi rend="italic">Chaire.</hi></q> </p> + <p> The second was shorter. It came from Corinth. </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"><q>Socias the merchant to Democrates:—Tyrrhenian pirates have taken the ship. + Lading and crew are utterly lost.—<hi rend="italic">Chaire.</hi></q> </p> + <p> The orator never closed his eyes that night. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="9" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="95"/> + <anchor id="Pg095"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER IX</head> + <head type="sub"> THE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHS </head> + <p> Democrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the + merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator + could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would + become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against + him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock + and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place + for Athenian criminals. </p> + <p> One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was + rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates + knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he + would <anchor id="corr095"/><corr sic="he">be</corr> horrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but + their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough + to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was + therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies. </p> + <p> Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a + fashionable promenade of <pb n="96"/><anchor id="Pg096"/>Athens. He was regarded as a + confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had + helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been + done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms + and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the + walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, + and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes + were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a + Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s + unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer. </p> + <p> But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers + weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out + of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with + stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into + the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a + brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a + complex key. </p> + <p> The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, + but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more + intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates + fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener + satisfaction. </p> + <p> + <q>There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,</q> ran his + commentary; <q>here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of + Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in + <pb n="97"/><anchor id="Pg097"/>Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how + easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my + beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,</q>—he unrolled them + lovingly, one after another,—<q>precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must + be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has + given me and never have drifted into these straits.</q> + </p> + <p> What that <q>power</q> was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even + whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked + it hurriedly. </p> + <p> + <q>Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could + drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.</q> + </p> + <p> He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and + took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied + with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the + casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the + defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the + copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new + copies in his breast and called in Bias. </p> + <p> + <q>I am going out, but I shall not be late.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?</q> asked the fellow. <q>Last night there + were foot-pads.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I don’t need you,</q> rejoined his master, brusquely. </p> + <p> He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys + wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint + of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from <pb n="98"/><anchor id="Pg098"/>dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only + when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite + doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very + late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up + to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment. <q>Again + Glaucon,</q> he caught, but was not troubled. </p> + <p> + <q>After all,</q> he reflected, <q>if seen at all, there is no harm in such a + mistake.</q> + </p> + <p> The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to + meet his visitor, smiling blandly. </p> + <p> + <q>Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates turned away his face. </p> + <p> + <q>You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And wherefore miserable, good friend?</q> The Cyprian half led, half compelled the + visitor to a seat on the divan. <q>Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the + benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t goad me!</q> Democrates wrung his hands. <q>I am desperate. Take these papyri, + read, pay, then let me never see your face again.</q> He flung the two rolls in the + Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery. </p> + <p> The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also + read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates + observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at + his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a + long interval the Prince spoke. </p> + <pb n="99"/> + <anchor id="Pg099"/> + <p> + <q>Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the + equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince turned to Hiram. </p> + <p> + <q>And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.</q> + </p> + <p> The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of + some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled. </p> + <p> + <q>Good,</q> continued the emissary; <q>yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them + with an oath.</q> + </p> + <p> The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to + drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, + and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, + he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm + satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle. </p> + <p> + <q>Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He + will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity. </p> + <p> + <q>I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this + Mydon?</q> + </p> + <p> The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His + voice swelled. </p> + <p> + <q>We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter, <pb n="100"/><anchor id="Pg100"/>to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the + king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my + word is my oath.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed + himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation. </p> + <p> + <q>So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who + bears this ring afford to tell a lie?</q> + </p> + <p> He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates + bent over it. </p> + <p> + <q>Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal + Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince raised a warning finger. <q>Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not + name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>So be it,</q> rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last + reprieve from death. <q>But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles + is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day + Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I + cannot save you.</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince shrugged his shoulders. </p> + <p> + <q>Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the + right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent + will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most + High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.</q> + </p> + <p> The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates <pb n="101"/><anchor id="Pg101"/>drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him. </p> + <p> + <q>As you will,</q> spoke the Athenian; <q>I have warned you. Trust then your God. I + have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May + our paths never cross again!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Until you again have need,</q> said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other + any promise. </p> + <p> Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in + Phormio’s house was <anchor id="corr101"/><corr sic="out,">out.</corr> No one seemed to be watching. On the + way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the + memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see + to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then + would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him + from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to + grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him, <q>They think it was <hi rend="italic">Glaucon</hi> who has been twice now to visit the Babylonish + carpet-seller.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the + window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust. </p> + <p> + <q>Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!</q> + </p> + <p> The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest <q>Royal Persian,</q> such as one + might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful <q>mute,</q> mute no longer, glided across + the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress. </p> + <p> + <q>And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you <pb n="102"/><anchor id="Pg102"/>speak them fair?</q> was the remark in the same musical tongue. </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, + and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious + light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords + of all the world.</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red + cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might + have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s + breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there + could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew + her bright face nearer. </p> + <p> + <q>This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,</q> he spoke; <q>how nearly you + were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an + ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the + pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But the adventure is ending,</q> answered she, with smiling confidence; <q>Mazda has + guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s + palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will + conquer, which you will rule.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes,</q> he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, + which lay in fair view under the moonlight. <q>How noble a city this! Xerxes has + promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best + beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I shall be mistress of Athens,</q> echoed she, <q>but you, husband and lord, would + that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s + slaves!</q> + </p> + <pb n="103"/> + <anchor id="Pg103"/> + <p> + <q>Xerxes is king,</q> he answered her. </p> + <p> + <q>My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius + the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But + for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.</q> And she lifted proud eyes to + her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>You are bold, Rose of Eran,</q> he smiled, not angry at her implication; <q>more + cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra + the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa + have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!</q> + </p> + <p> She gave a gentle laugh. </p> + <p> + <q>The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your + wife?</q> + </p> + <p> His laugh answered her. </p> + <p> + <q>Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!</q> + </p> + <p> He leaned again from the lattice, <q>O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See + how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars + over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we + have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what + servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us + empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be + ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We will conquer,</q> she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the + night. </p> + <p> + <q>From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has + been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The <pb n="104"/><anchor id="Pg104"/>Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the + Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—</q> he held out + his arms confidently—<q>shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius + your father lay dying, I swore to him, <q>Master, fear not; I will avenge you on + Athens and on all the Greeks.</q> And in one brief year, O <hi rend="italic">fravashi</hi>, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make + these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.</q> + </p> + <p> Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power. </p> + <p> + <q>And yet,</q> she could not keep back the question, <q>as we have moved through this + Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, + sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, + and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans + lack.</q> + </p> + <p> He shook his head. </p> + <p> + <q>It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of + Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it + them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For some day you will be their king?</q> spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but + stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and + sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could + see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping + city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped + hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to + the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were + deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke. </p> + <pb n="105"/> + <anchor id="Pg105"/> + <p> + <q>Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, + and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,</q> he spoke upward to the + stars, <q>give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep + back nothing of all the world.</q> + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="10" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="106"/> + <anchor id="Pg106"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER X</head> + <head type="sub"> DEMOCRATES RESOLVES </head> + <p> Democrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor. <q>Nestor and + Odysseus both speak to us,</q> shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the + urn. <q>What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage + the city in a crisis like this!</q> + </p> + <p> So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. + Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. + The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend + the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run + down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the + great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. + He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and + Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not. </p> + <p> + <q>Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a + pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Certainly.</q> + </p> + <pb n="107"/> + <anchor id="Pg107"/> + <p> + <q>And the house of Phormio the <anchor id="corr107"/><corr sic="fish-monger">fishmonger</corr>?</q> to which Democrates nodded. </p> + <p> + <q>Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms + opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told + Sicinnus an odd tale.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What tale?</q> Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze. </p> + <p> + <q>Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear + Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Impossible.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this + Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted + any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’ll inquire at once.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do so. The matter grows serious.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have + a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden + sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was + beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. + Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously + near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least + would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy + safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent + would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the + fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was <pb n="108"/><anchor id="Pg108"/>one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the + confederate <hi rend="italic">himself</hi>, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared + up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s + head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him. </p> + <p> + <q>A fair morning, Democrates.</q> It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon. </p> + <p> + <q>A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. + You will join us?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, + and that you will soon be prosecuting me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Avert it, gods! What do you mean?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,</q> asserted Cimon. <q>Now I say Argos has + Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Be jury on my treachery,</q> commanded Glaucon. <q>Ageladas the master-sculptor sends + me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks + because he lives in Argos?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><q>Not guilty</q> votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes + to-day?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big + belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the + sacrifice.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He goes by sea?</q> asked Democrates, casually. </p> + <p> + <q>By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.</q> + </p> + <p> The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in + his own chambers. Three <pb n="109"/><anchor id="Pg109"/>things were graven on his mind: + Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was + sending a letter to Argos. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of + the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast + him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by <q>cutting into shoe + soles.</q> Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his + fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered + unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, + Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting + curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his + master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite + sufficiently. </p> + <p> Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered + its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing + thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was + testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal + thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his + hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard + him muttering as he walked:— </p> + <p> + <q>O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!</q> + </p> + <p> Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, + to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was <pb n="110"/><anchor id="Pg110"/>gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since + the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery + and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting + thus. </p> + <p> + <q>Clearly the <hi rend="italic">kyrios</hi> is mad,</q> was his own explanation, and + growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his + retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the + leg of a gold-chafer<note place="foot">A kind of beetle common in Greece.</note> and + watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might + have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. + For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had + torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table. </p> + <p> + <q>Curses upon the miserable stuff!</q> he swore almost loudly; <q>it is this which has + set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroy <hi rend="italic">that</hi>, and the deed is + beyond my power.</q> + </p> + <p> He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold. </p> + <p> + <q>What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in + dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit + of clay.</q> + </p> + <p> He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge. </p> + <p> + <q>A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And + yet,—and yet,—</q> + </p> + <p> He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully. </p> + <p> + <q>O Father Zeus!</q> he broke out after silence, <q>if I were not compelled by fear! + Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles <pb n="111"/><anchor id="Pg111"/>so unmerciful! It + would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.</q> + </p> + <p> He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as + this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?</q>—he ended with a + laugh more bitter than a sob. <q>And I must save myself, but at such a price!</q> + </p> + <p> He pressed his hands over his eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have + been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. + But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.</q> + </p> + <p> But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and + locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it. </p> + <p> + <q>I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by + fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I + shall never be the worse.</q> + </p> + <p> He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway. </p> + <p> + <q>It is a dreadful death to die;</q>—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—<q>hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the + crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the + house of Codrus branded <q>A Traitor to Athens</q>? Is it wickedness to save one’s own + life?</q> + </p> + <p> Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as + he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch<pb n="112"/><anchor id="Pg112"/>edness he watched the throng beneath the window, + pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths + going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, + wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself. </p> + <p> + <q>I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am + I to do?</q> He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging + out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, + and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels. </p> + <p> She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids + went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She + had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, + her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, + now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own + grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor + beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear + high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle + of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the + house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her + husband, and Democrates. </p> + <p> Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the + street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. + It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds + never to be recalled. </p> + <p> + <q>The omen!</q> he almost cried, <q>the omen! Not Zeus <pb n="113"/><anchor id="Pg113"/>but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if + not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with + me.</q> + </p> + <p> He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. + His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his + faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute. </p> + <p> Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands. </p> + <p> + <q>What is it, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to + come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something + to speed them.</q> + </p> + <p> He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, + but a golden daric. </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,</q> ordered the master,—and Bias’s + legs never went faster than on that afternoon. </p> + <p> Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They + remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though + he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried + two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; + the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. + Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:— </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"><q>Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know + that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of + your identity. Leave Athens to-<pb n="114"/><anchor id="Pg114"/>morrow or all is + lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The + man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your + flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—<hi rend="italic">Chaire.</hi></q></p> + <p> After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all + the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the + Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most + maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard + recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:— </p> + <lg> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post: none">With scourge and with ban</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">We prostrate the man,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Who with smooth-woven wile,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">And a fair-facèd smile</l> + <l>Hath planted a snare for his friend.</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though fleet, we shall find him;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though strong, we shall bind him,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Who planted a snare for his friend.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face + seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will. </p> + <p> + <q>Hermes,</q> prayed the orator, <q>Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, + helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper + me in the deed to which I set my hand,</q>—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the + shrewd god with too mean a gift, <q>and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall + tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy + favour.</q> + </p> + <p> The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. + Hermes was a great god and <pb n="115"/><anchor id="Pg115"/>would help him. When the + song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s + face and asking one triumphant question:— </p> + <p> + <q>She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?</q> + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="11" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="116"/> + <anchor id="Pg116"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XI</head> + <head type="sub"> THE PANATHENÆA </head> + <p> Flowers on every head, flowers festooned about each pillar, and flowers under foot + when one crossed the Agora. Beneath the sheltering porticos lurked bright-faced girls + who pelted each passer with violets, narcissus, and hyacinths. For this was the morn of + the final crowning day of the Panathenæa, greatest, gladdest of Athenian festivals. </p> + <p> Athletic contests had preceded it and stately Pyrrhic dances of men in full armour. + There had been feasting and merry-making despite the darkening shadow of the Persian. + Athens seemed awakened only to rejoice. To-day was the procession to the Acropolis, the + bearing of the sacred robe to Athena, the public sacrifice for all the people. Not even + the peril of Xerxes could hinder a gladsome holiday. </p> + <p> The sun had just risen above Hymettus, the Agora shops were closed, but the plaza + itself and the lesches—the numerous little club houses about it—overran with + gossipers. On the stone bench before one of these buzzed the select coterie that of wont + assembled in Clearchus’s booth; only Polus the juror now and then nodded and snored. He + had sat up all night hearing the priestesses chant their ceaseless litanies on the + Acropolis. </p> + <p> + <q>Guilty—I vote guilty,</q> the others heard him muttering, as his head sank lower. </p> + <pb n="117"/> + <anchor id="Pg117"/> + <p> + <q>Wake up, friend,</q> ordered Clearchus; <q>you’re not condemning any poor scoundrel + now.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><anchor id="corr117"/><corr sic="(no italics)"><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi></corr> ah!</q> Polus rubbed his eyes, <q>I only thought I was dropping the black + bean—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Against whom?</q> quoth Crito, the fat contractor. </p> + <p> + <q>Whom? Why that aristocrat Glaucon, surely,—to-night—</q> Polus suddenly checked + himself and began to roll his eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>You’ve a dreadful grievance against him,</q> remarked Clearchus; <q>the gods know + why.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The wise patriot can see many things,</q> observed Polus, complacently, <q>only I + repeat—wait till to-night—and then—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What then?</q> demanded all the others. </p> + <p> + <q>Then you shall see,</q> announced the juror, with an oratorical flourish of his dirty + himation, <q>and not you only but all of Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> Clearchus grinned. </p> + <p> + <q>Our dear Polus has a vast sense of his own importance. And who has been making you + partner of the state secrets—Themistocles?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A man almost his peer, the noble patriot Democrates. Ask Phormio’s wife, Lampaxo; + ask—</q> Once more he broke off to lay a finger on his lips. <q>This will be a + notable day for Athens!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Our good friend surely thinks so!</q> rejoined the potter, dryly; <q>but since he + won’t trust us with his precious secret, I think it much more interesting to watch the + people crossing the square. The procession must be gathering outside the Dipylon Gate. + Yonder rides Themistocles now to take command.</q> + </p> + <p> The statesman cantered past on a shining white Thessalian. At his heels were prancing + Cimon, Democrates, Glau<pb n="118"/><anchor id="Pg118"/>con, and many another youth of + the noble houses of Athens. At sight of the son of Conon, Polus had wagged his head in a + manner utterly perplexing to his associates, and they were again perplexed when they saw + Democrates wheel back from the side of his chief and run up for a hurried word with a + man in the crowd they recognized as Agis. </p> + <p> + <q>Agis is a strange fish to have dealings with a <q>steward</q> of the procession + to-day,</q> wondered Crito. </p> + <p> + <q>You’ll be enlightened to-morrow,</q> said Polus, exasperatingly. Then as the band of + horsemen cantered down the broad Dromos street, <q>Ah, me,—I wish I could afford to + serve in the cavalry. It’s far safer than tugging a spear on foot. But there’s one + young man out yonder on whose horse I’d not gladly be sitting.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Phui</hi>,</q> complained Clearchus, <q>you are anxious to eat + Glaucon skin and bones! There goes his wife now, all in white flowers and ribbons, to + take her place in the march with the other young matrons. Zeus! But she is as handsome + as her husband.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>She needn’t <q>draw up her eyebrows,</q></q><note place="foot"><q>Give herself + airs.</q></note> growled the juror, viciously; <q>they’re marks of disloyalty even in + her. Can’t you see she wears shoes of the Theban model, laced open so as to display + her bare feet, though everybody knows Thebes is Medizing? She’s no better than + Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hush,</q> ordered Clearchus, rising, <q>you have spoken folly enough. Those trumpets + tell us we must hasten if we hope to join in the march ourselves.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Who can tell the great procession? Not the maker of books,—what words call down light + on the glancing eyes, on the moving lines of colour? Not the artist,—his pencil may not + limn ten thousand human beings, beautiful and <pb n="119"/><anchor id="Pg119"/>glad, + sweeping in bright array across the welcoming city. Nor can the sculptor’s marble shape + the marching forms, the rippling draperies, the warm and buoyant life. The life of + Athens was the crown of Greece. The festival of the Panathenæa was the crown of Athens. </p> + <p> Never had Helios looked down on fairer landscape or city. The doors of the patrician + houses were opened; for a day unguarded, unconstrained, the daughters, wives, and + mothers of the nobility of Athens walked forth in their queenly beauty. One could see + that the sculptor’s master works were but rigid counterparts of lovelier flesh and + blood. One could see veterans, stalwart almost as on the day of the old-time battles, + but crowned with the snow of years. One could see youths, and need no longer marvel the + young Apollo was accounted fair. Flowers, fluttering mantles, purple, gold, the bravery + of armour, rousing music—what was missing? All conjoined to make a perfect spectacle. </p> + <p> The sun had chased the last vapours from the sky. The little ravines on distant + Hymettus stood forth sharply as though near at hand. The sun grew hot, but men and women + walked with bared heads, and few were the untanned cheeks and shoulders. Children of the + South, and lovers of the Sun-King, the Athenians sought no shelter, their own bright + humour rejoicing in the light. </p> + <p> On the broad parade ground outside the Dipylon, the towering northwestern gate, the + procession gathered. Themistocles the Handsome, never more gallant than now upon the + white Thessalian, was ordering the array, the ten young men, <q>stewards of the + Panathenæa,</q> assisting. He sent his last glance down the long files, his ivory wand + signed to the musicians in the van. </p> + <p> + <q>Play! march!</q> + </p> + <p> Fifty pipers blew, fifty citharas tinkled. The host swept into the city. </p> + <pb n="120"/> + <anchor id="Pg120"/> + <p> Themistocles led. Under the massy double gate caracoled the charger. The robe of his + rider blew out behind him like purple wings. There was the cry and clang of cymbals and + drums. From the gray battlement yellow daisies rained down like gold. Cantering, + halting, advancing, beckoning, the chief went forward, and behind swept the <q>knights,</q> the mounted chivalry of Athens,—three hundred of the noblest youths of + Attica, on beasts sleek and spirited, and in burnished armour, but about every helm a + wreath. Behind the <q>knights</q> rode the magistracy, men white-headed and grave, some + riding, some in flower-decked cars. After these the victors in the games and contests of + the preceding day. Next the elders of Athens—men of blameless life, beautiful in hale + and honoured age. Next the <hi rend="italic">ephebi</hi>,—the youths close to manhood, + whose fair limbs glistened under their sweeping chitons. Behind them, their sisters, + unveiled, the maidens of Athens, walking in rhythmic beauty, and with them their + attendants, daughters of resident foreigners. Following upon these was the long line of + bleating victims, black bulls with gilded horns and ribbon-decked rams without blemish. + And next—but here the people leaned from parapet, house-roof, portico, and shouted + louder than ever: </p> + <p> + <q>The car and the robe of Athena! Hail, <hi rend="italic">Io, pæan!</hi> hail!</q> + </p> + <p> Up the street on a car shaped like a galley moved the peplus, the great robe of the + sovran goddess. From afar one could see the wide folds spread on a shipyard and rippling + in the breeze. But what a sail! One year long had the noblest women of Attica wrought on + it, and all the love and art that might breathe through a needle did not fail. It was a + sheen of glowing colour. The strife of Athena with the brutish giants, her contest with + Arachne, the deeds of the heroes of Athens—Erechtheus, Theseus, Codrus: these <pb n="121"/><anchor id="Pg121"/>were some of the pictures. The car moved noiselessly on + wheels turned by concealed mechanism. Under the shadow of the sail walked the fairest of + its makers, eight women, maids and young matrons, clothed in white mantles and wreaths, + going with stately tread, unmoved by the shouting as though themselves divine. Seven + walked together. But one, their leader, went before,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. </p> + <p> Many an onlooker remembered this sight of her, the deep spiritual eyes, the symmetry + of form and fold, the perfect carriage. Fair wishes flew out to her like doves. </p> + <p> + <q>May she be blessed forever! May King Helios forever bring her joy!</q> + </p> + <p> Some cried thus. More thought thus. All seemed more glad for beholding her. </p> + <p> Behind the peplus in less careful array went thousands of citizens of every age and + station, all in festival dress, all crowned with flowers. They followed the car up the + Dromos Street, across the cheering Agora, and around the southern side of the Acropolis, + making a full circuit of the citadel. Those who watched saw Glaucon with Democrates and + Cimon give their horses to slaves, and mount the bare knoll of Areopagus, looking down + upon the western face of the Acropolis. As the procession swung about to mount the + steep, Hermione lifted her glance to Areopagus, saw her husband gazing down on her, + raised her hands in delighted gesture, and he answered her. It was done in the sight of + thousands, and the thousands smiled with the twain. </p> + <p> + <q>Justice! The beautiful salutes the beautiful.</q> And who thought the less of + Hermione for betraying the woman beneath the mien of the goddess? </p> + <p> But now the march drew to an end. The procession halted, reformed, commenced the + rugged way upward. <pb n="122"/><anchor id="Pg122"/>Suddenly from the bastion of the + Acropolis above wafted new music. Low, melancholy at first, as the pipers and harpers + played in the dreamy Lydian mode, till, strengthening into the bolder Æolic, the strains + floated down, inviting, <q>Come up hither,</q> then stronger still it pealed in the + imperious crash of the Doric as the procession mounted steadily. Now could be seen great + Lamprus, Orpheus’s peer, the master musician, standing on the balcony above the gate, + beating time for the loud choral. </p> + <p> A chorus amongst the marchers and a second chorus in the citadel joined together, till + the red crags shook,—singing the old hymn of the Homeridæ to Athena, homely, rude, yet + dear with the memory of ages:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Pallas Athena, gray-eyed queen of wisdom,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 8">Thy praise I sing!</l> + <l>Steadfast, all holy, sure ward of our city,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Triton-born rule whom High Zeus doth bring</l> + <l>Forth from his forehead.</l> + <l>Thou springest forth valiant;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">The clangour swells far as thy direful arms ring.</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">All the Immortals in awed hush are bending,</q></l> + <l>Beautiful, terrible, thy light thou’rt sending</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Flashed from thine eyes and thy pitiless spear.</l> + <l>Under thy presence Olympus is groaning,</l> + <l>Earth heaves in terrors, the blue deeps are moaning;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">‘Wisdom, the All-Seeing Goddess is here!’</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Now the sea motionless freezes before thee;</q></l> + <l>Helios, th’ Sun-Lord, draws rein to adore thee;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Whilst thou, O Queen, puttest on divine might.</l> + <l>Zeus, the deep-councillor, gladly greets thee!</l> + <l>Hail, Holy Virgin—our loud pæan meets thee,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none"><hi rend="smallcaps">Pallas, Chaste Wisdom, + Dispeller of Night</hi>!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Up the face of the Rock, up the long, statue-lined way, till through the gate the + vision burst,—the innumerable <pb n="123"/><anchor id="Pg123"/>fanes and altars, the + assembly of singers and priests, the great temple in its pride of glittering marble. + Clearer, stronger sounded the choral, shot up through the limpid azure; swaying, + burning, throbbing, sobs and shouting, tears and transports, so mounted new strains of + the mighty chorus, lit through with the flames of Homeric verse. Then stronger yet was + the mingling of voices, earth, sky, deep, beasts’ cry and gods’ cry, all voiced, as + chorus answered to chorus. Now the peplus was wafted on a wave of song toward the + temple’s dawn-facing portal, when from beneath the columns, as the tall valves turned + and the sun leaped into the cella, hidden voices returned the former strains—mournful + at first. Out of the adytum echoed a cry of anguish, the lament of the Mother of Wisdom + at her children’s deathly ignorance, which plucks them down from the Mount of the + Beautiful Vision. But as the thousands neared, as its pæans became a prayer, as yearning + answered to yearning, lo! the hidden song swelled and soared,—for the goddess looked + for her own, and her own were come to her. And thus in beneath the massy pediment, in + through the wide-flung doors, floated the peplus, while under its guardian shadow walked + Hermione. </p> + <p> So they brought the robe to Athena. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Glaucon and his companions had watched the procession ascend, then followed to see the + sacrifice upon the giant altar. The King Archon cut the throat of the first ox and made + public prayer for the people. Wood soaked in perfumed oil blazed upon the huge stone + platform of the sacrifice. Girls flung frankincense upon the roaring flames. The music + crashed louder. All Athens seemed mounting the citadel. The chief priestess came from + the holy house, and in a brief hush proclaimed that the goddess had received the robe + with <pb n="124"/><anchor id="Pg124"/>all favour. After her came the makers of the + peplus, and Hermione rejoined her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>Let us not stay to the public feast,</q> was her wish; <q>let these hucksters and + charcoal-burners who live on beans and porridge scramble for a bit of burned meat, but + we return to Colonus.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Good then,</q> answered Glaucon, <q>and these friends of course go with us.</q> + </p> + <p> Cimon assented readily. Democrates hesitated, and while hesitating was seized by the + cloak by none other than Agis, who gave a hasty whisper and vanished in the swirling + multitude before Democrates could do more than nod. </p> + <p> + <q>He’s an uncanny fox,</q> remarked Cimon, mystified; <q>I suppose you know his + reputation?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The servant of Athens must sometimes himself employ strange servants,</q> evaded the + orator. </p> + <p> + <q>Yet you might suffer your friends to understand—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dear son of Miltiades,</q> Democrates’s voice shook in the slightest, <q>the meaning + of my dealings with Agis I pray Athena you may never have cause to know.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Which means you will not tell us. Then by Zeus I swear the secret no doubt is not + worth the knowing.</q> Cimon stopped suddenly, as he saw a look of horror on + Hermione’s face. <q>Ah, lady! what’s the matter?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon,</q> she groaned, <q>frightful omen! I am terrified!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon’s hands dropped at her cry. He himself paled slightly. In one of his moods of + abstraction he had taken the small knife from his belt and begun to pare his nails,—to + do which after a sacrifice was reputed an infallible means of provoking heaven’s anger. + The friends were grave and silent. The athlete gave a forced laugh. </p> + <pb n="125"/> + <anchor id="Pg125"/> + <p> + <q>The goddess will be merciful to-day. To-morrow I will propitiate her with a goat.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Now, now, not to-morrow,</q> urged Hermione, with white lips, but her husband + refused. </p> + <p> + <q>The goddess is surfeited with sacrifices this morning. She would forget mine.</q> + </p> + <p> Then he led the rest, elbowing the way through the increasing swarms of young and old, + and down into the half-deserted city. Democrates left them in the Agora, professing + great stress of duties. </p> + <p> + <q>Strange man,</q> observed Cimon, as he walked away; <q>what has he this past month + upon his mind? That Persian spy, I warrant. But the morning wanes. It’s a long way to + Colonus. <q>Let us drink, for the sun is in the zenith.</q> So says Alcæus—and I love + the poet, for he like myself is always thirsty.</q> + </p> + <p> The three went on to the knoll of Colonus where Glaucon dwelt. Cimon was overrunning + with puns and jests, but the others not very merry. The omen of Glaucon’s + thoughtlessness, or something else, made husband and wife silent, yet it was a day when + man or maid should have felt their spirits rise. The sky had never been brighter, not in + Athens. Never had the mountains and sea spread more gloriously. From the warm + olive-groves sounded the blithesome note of the Attic grasshopper. The wind sweeping + over the dark cypresses by the house set their dark leaves to talking. The afternoon + passed in pleasure, friends going and coming; there was laughter, music, and good + stories. Hermione at least recovered part of her brightness, but her husband, contrary + to all custom, remained taciturn, even melancholy. At last as the gentle tints of + evening began to cover hill and plain and the red-tiled roofs of the ample city, all the + friends were gone, saving only Cimon, and he—reckless fellow—<pb n="126"/><anchor id="Pg126"/>was well able to dispense with companionship, being, in the words of + Theognis, <q>not absolutely drunk, nor sober quite.</q> Thus husband and wife found + themselves alone together on the marble bench beneath the old cypress. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, <hi rend="italic">makaire</hi>! dearest and best,</q> asked Hermione, her hands + touching his face, <q>is it the omen that makes you grow so sad? For the sun of your + life is so seldom under clouds that when it is clouded at all, it seems as deep + darkness.</q> + </p> + <p> He answered by pressing back her hair, <q>No, not the omen. I am not a slave to chance + like that. Yet to-day,—the wise God knows wherefore,—there comes a sense of brooding + fear. I have been too happy—too blessed with friendship, triumph, love. It cannot + last. Clotho the Spinner will weary of making my thread of gold and twine in a darker + stuff. Everything lovely must pass. What said Glaucus to Diomedes? <q>Even as the race + of leaves, so likewise are those of men; the leaves that now are, the wind + scattereth, and the forest buddeth forth more again; thus also with the race of men, + one putteth forth, another ceaseth.</q> So even my joy must pass—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon,—take back the words. You frighten me.</q> + </p> + <p> He felt her in his arms trembling, and cursed himself for what he had uttered. </p> + <p> + <q>A blight upon my tongue! I have frightened you, and without cause. Surely the day is + bright enough, surely Athena having been thus far good we can trust her goodness + still. Who knows but that it be many a year before our sun comes to his setting!</q> + </p> + <p> He kissed her many times. She grew comforted, but they had not been together long when + they were surprised by the approach of Themistocles and Hermippus. Hermione ran to her + father. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles and I were summoned hither,</q> explained <pb n="127"/><anchor id="Pg127"/>Hermippus, <q>by a message from Democrates bidding us come to Colonus at + once, on an urgent matter touching the public weal.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He is not here. I cannot understand,</q> marvelled Glaucon; but while he spoke, he + was interrupted by the clatter of hoofs from a party of horsemen spurring furiously and + heading from the pass of Daphni. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="12" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="128"/> + <anchor id="Pg128"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XII</head> + <head type="sub"> A TRAITOR TO HELLAS </head> + <p> Before the house six riders were reining,—five Scythian <q>bowmen</q> of the + constabulary of Athens, tow-headed Barbarians, grinning but mute; the sixth was + Democrates. He dismounted with a bound, and as he did so the friends saw that his face + was red as with pent-up excitement. Themistocles advanced hastily. </p> + <p> + <q>What’s this? Your hands seem a-quiver. Whom has that constable tied up behind + him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Seuthes!</q> cried Glaucon, bounding back, <q>Seuthes, by every god, and pinioned + like a felon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ay!</q> groaned the prisoner, lashed to a horse, <q>what have I done to be seized and + tried like a bandit? Why should I be set upon by these gentlemen while I was enjoying + a quiet pot of wine in the tavern at Daphni, and be haled away as if to crucifixion? + <hi rend="italic">Mu! Mu!</hi> make them untie me, dear Master Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Put down your prisoner,</q> ordered Democrates, <q>and all you constables stay + without the house. I ask Themistocles, Hermippus, and Glaucon to come to an inner + room. I must examine this man. The matter is serious.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Serious?</q> echoed the bewildered athlete, <q>I can vouch for Seuthes—an excellent + Corinthian, come to Athens to sell some bales of wool—</q> + </p> + <pb n="129"/> + <anchor id="Pg129"/> + <p> + <q>Answer, Glaucon,</q> Democrates’s voice was stern. <q>Has he no letters from you for + Argos?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Certainly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You admit it?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By the dog of Egypt, do you doubt my word?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Friends,</q> called Democrates, dramatically, <q>mark you that Glaucon admits he has + employed this Seuthes as his courier.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whither leads this mummery?</q> cried the athlete, growing at last angry. </p> + <p> + <q>If to nothing, I, Democrates, rejoice the most. Now I must bid you to follow me.</q> + </p> + <p> Seizing the snivelling Seuthes, the orator led into the house and to a private + chamber. The rest followed, in blank wonderment. Cimon had recovered enough to + follow—none too steadily. But when Hermione approached, Democrates motioned her back. </p> + <p> + <q>Do not come. A painful scene may be impending.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What my husband can hear, that can I,</q> was her retort. <q>Ah! but why do you look + thus dreadfully on Glaucon?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have warned you, lady. Do not blame me if you hear the worst,</q> rejoined + Democrates, barring the door. A single swinging lamp shed a fitful light on the + scene—the whimpering prisoner, the others all amazed, the orator’s face, tense and + white. Democrates’s voice seemed metallic as he continued:— </p> + <p> + <q>Now, Seuthes, we must search you. Produce first the letter from Glaucon.</q> + </p> + <p> The fat florid little Corinthian was dressed as a traveller, a gray chalmys to his + hips, a brimmed brown hat, and high black boots. His hands were now untied. He tugged + from his belt a bit of papyrus which Democrates handed to Themistocles, enjoining <q>Open.</q> + </p> + <pb n="130"/> + <anchor id="Pg130"/> + <p> Glaucon flushed. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you mad, Democrates, to violate my private correspondence thus?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The weal of Athens outweighs even the pleasure of Glaucon,</q> returned the orator, + harshly, <q>and you, Themistocles, note that Glaucon does not deny that the seal here is + his own.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not deny,</q> cried the angry athlete. <q>Open, Themistocles, and let this + stupid comedy end.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And may it never change to tragedy!</q> proclaimed Democrates. <q>What do you read, + Themistocles?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A courteous letter of thanks to Ageladas.</q> The senior statesman was frowning. <q>Glaucon is right. Either you are turned mad, or are victim of some prank,—is it + yours, Cimon?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am as innocent as a babe. I’d swear it by the Styx,</q> responded that young man, + scratching his muddled head. </p> + <p> + <q>I fear we are not at the end of the examination,</q> observed Democrates, with + ominous slowness. <q>Now, Seuthes, recollect your plight. Have you no other letter about + you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>None!</q> groaned the unheroic Corinthian. <q>Ah! pity, kind sirs; what have I done? + Suffer me to go.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It is possible,</q> remarked his prosecutor, <q>you are an innocent victim, or at + least do not realize the intent of what you bear. I must examine the lining of your + chalmys. Nothing. Your girdle. Nothing. Your hat, remove it. Quite empty. Blessed be + Athena if my fears prove groundless. But my first duty is to Athens and Hellas. Ah! + Your high boots. Remove the right one.</q> The orator felt within, and shook the boot + violently. <q>Nothing again. The left one, empty it seems. <hi rend="italic">Ei!</hi> + what is this?</q> + </p> + <p> In a tense silence he shook from the boot a papyrus, rolled and sealed. It fell on the + floor at the feet of Themistocles, <pb n="131"/><anchor id="Pg131"/>who, watching all + his lieutenant did, bent and seized it instantly; then it dropped from his hands as a + live coal. </p> + <p> + <q>The seal! The seal! May Zeus smite me blind if I see aright!</q> + </p> + <p> Hermippus, who had been following all the scene in silence, bent, lifted the fateful + paper, and he too gave a cry of grief. </p> + <p> + <q>It is the seal of Glaucon. How came it here?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon,</q>—hard as Democrates’s voice had been that night, it rang like cold iron + now,—<q>as the friend of your boyhood, and one who would still do for you all he may, + I urge you as you love me to look upon this seal.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am looking,</q> but as he spoke paleness followed the angry flush on the athlete’s + forehead. He needed no omen to tell him something fearful was about to ensue. </p> + <p> + <q>The seal is yours?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The very same, two dancing mænads and over them a winged Eros. But how came this + letter here? I did not—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>As you love life or death, as you preserve any regard for our friendship, I adjure + you,—not to brave it longer, but to confess—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Confess what? My head is reeling.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The treason in which you have dipped your hands, your dealings with the Persian spy, + your secret interviews, and last of all this letter,—I fear a gross betrayal of all + trust,—to some agent of Xerxes. I shudder when I think of what may be its + contents.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And—this—from—you! Oh,—Democrates,—</q> + </p> + <p> The accused man’s hands snatched at the air. He sank upon a chest. </p> + <p> + <q>He does not deny it,</q> threw out the orator, but Glaucon’s voice rang shrilly:— </p> + <p> + <q>Ever! Ever will I deny! Though the Twelve Gods all cried out <q>guilty!</q> The + charge is monstrous.</q> + </p> + <pb n="132"/> + <anchor id="Pg132"/> + <p> + <q>It is time, Democrates,</q> said Themistocles, who had preserved a grim silence, <q>that you showed us clearly whither your path is leading. This is a fearful accusation + you launch against your best-loved friend.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles is right,</q> assented the orator, moving away from the luckless Seuthes + as from a pawn no longer important in the game of life and death. <q>The whole of the + wretched story I fear I must tell on the Bema to all Athens. I must be brief, but + believe me, I can make good all I say. Since my return from the Isthmia, I have been + observed to be sad. Rightly—for knowing Glaucon as I did, I grew suspicious, and I + loved him. You have thought me not diligent in hunting down the Persian spy. You were + wrong. But how could I ruin my friend without full proof? I made use of Agis,—no + genteel confederate, to be sure, but honest, patriotic, indefatigable. I soon had my + eyes on the suspected Babylonish carpet-seller. I observed Glaucon’s movements + closely, they gave just ground for suspicion. The Babylonian, I came to feel, was none + other than an agent of Xerxes himself. I discovered that Glaucon had been making this + emissary nocturnal visits.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A lie!</q> groaned the accused, in agony. </p> + <p> + <q>I would to Athena I believed you,</q> was the unflinching answer; <q>I have direct + evidence from eye-witnesses that you went to him. In a moment I can produce it. Yet + still I hesitated. Who would blast a friend without damning proof? Then yesterday with + your own lips you told me you sent a messenger to disloyal Argos. I suspected two + messages, not one, were entrusted to Seuthes, and that you proclaimed the more + innocent matter thus boldly simply to blind my eyes. Before Seuthes started forth this + morning Agis informed me he had met him in a wine-shop—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>True,</q> whimpered the unhappy prisoner. </p> + <pb n="133"/> + <anchor id="Pg133"/> + <p> + <q>And this fellow as much as admitted he carried a second and secret message—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Liar!</q> roared Seuthes. </p> + <p> + <q>Men hint strange things in wine-shops,</q> observed Democrates, sarcastically. <q>Enough that a second papyrus with Glaucon’s seal has been found hidden upon you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Open it then, and know the worst,</q> interjected Themistocles, his face like a + thunder-cloud; but Democrates forbade him. </p> + <p> + <q rend="post: none">A moment. Let me complete my story. This afternoon I received + warning that the Babylonish carpet-vender had taken sudden flight, presumably toward + Thebes. I have sent mounted constables after him. I trust they can seize him at the + pass of Phyle. In the meantime, I may assure you I have irrefutable evidence—needless + to present here—that the man was a Persian agent, and to more purpose hear this + affidavit, sworn to by very worthy patriots.</q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q>Polus, son of Phodrus of the Commune of Diomea, and Lampaxo his sister take oath + by Zeus, Dike, and Athena, thus: We swear we saw and recognized Glaucon, son of Conon, + twice visiting by night in the past month of Scirophorion a certain + <anchor id="corr133"/><corr sic="Baylonish">Babylonish</corr> + carpet-seller, name unknown, who had lodgings above Demas’s shield factory in + Alopece.</q> </p> + <p> + <q>Details lack,</q> spoke Themistocles, keenly. </p> + <p> + <q>To be supplied in full measure at the trial,</q> rejoined the orator. <q>And now to + the second letter itself.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, the letter, whatever the foul Cyclops that wrought it!</q> groaned Glaucon + through his teeth. </p> + <p> Themistocles took the document from Hermippus’s trembling hands. His own trembled + whilst he broke the seal. </p> + <p> + <q>The handwriting of Glaucon. There is no doubt,</q> was his despairing comment. His + frown darkened. Then he attempted to read. </p> + <pb n="134"/> + <anchor id="Pg134"/> + + <p rend="font-size: small"><q rend="post: none">Glaucon of Athens to Cleophas of Argos wishes + health:—</q></p> + + <p> + <q rend="post: none">Cleophas leads the Medizers of Argos, the greatest friend of Xerxes + in Greece. O Zeus, what is this next—</q> + </p> + + <p rend="font-size: small"><q>Our dear friend, whom I dare not name, to-day departs for Thebes, and in a + month will be safe in Sardis. His visit to Athens has been most fruitful. Since + you at present have better opportunity than we for forwarding packets to Susa, + do not fail to despatch this at once. A happy chance led Themistocles to explain + to me his secret memorandum for the arraying of the Greek fleet. You can apprize + its worth, for the only others to whom it is entrusted are Democrates and later + Leonidas—</q></p> + + <p> Themistocles flung the papyrus down. His voice was broken. Tears stood in his eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>O Glaucon, Glaucon,—whom I have trusted? Was ever trust so betrayed! May Apollo + smite me blind, if so I could forget what I read here! It is all written—the secret + ordering of the fleet—</q> + </p> + <p> For a terrible moment there was silence in the little room, a silence broken by a + wild, shrill cry,—Hermione’s, as she cast her arms about her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>A lie! A snare! A wicked plot! Some jealous god has devised this guile, seeing we + were too happy!</q> + </p> + <p> She shook with sobs, and Glaucon, roused to manhood by her grief, uprose and faced the + stern face of Democrates, the blenching faces of the rest. </p> + <p> + <q>I am the victim of a conspiracy of all the fiends in Tartarus,</q>—he strove hard to + speak steadily; <q>I did not write that second letter. It is a forgery.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But who, then,</q> groaned Themistocles, hopelessly, <q><hi rend="italic">can</hi> + claim this handiwork? Democrates or I?—for no other has seen the memorandum,—that I + swear. It has not yet gone to Leonidas. It has been guarded as the apple of my eye. We + three alone knew thereof. And it is in this narrow room the betrayer of Hellas must + stand.</q> + </p> + <pb n="135"/> + <anchor id="Pg135"/> + <p> + <q>I cannot explain.</q> Glaucon staggered back to his seat. His wife’s head sank upon + his lap. The two sat in misery. </p> + <p> + <q>Confess, by the remnants of our friendship I implore, confess,</q> ordered + Democrates, <q>and then Themistocles and I will strive to lighten if possible your + inevitable doom.</q> + </p> + <p> The accused man sat dumb, but Hermione struck back as some wild creature driven to + bay. She lifted her head. </p> + <p> + <q>Has Glaucon here no friend but me, his wife?</q> She sent beseeching eyes about the + room. <q>Do you all cry <q>guilty, guilty</q>? Then is your friendship false, for when + is friendship proved, save in the hour of need?</q> + </p> + <p> The appeal brought an answer from her father, who had been standing silent; and in + infinite distress kindly, cautious, charitable Hermippus began:— </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Glaucon, Hermione is wrong; we were never more your friends. We are willing to + believe the best and not the worst. Therefore tell all frankly. You have been a victim + of great temptation. The Isthmian victory has turned your head. The Persian was + subtle, plausible. He promised I know not what. You did not realize all you were + doing. You had confederates here in Athens who are more guilty. We can make + allowances. Tell only the truth, and the purse and influence of Hermippus of Eleusis + shall never be held back to save his son-in-law.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nor mine, nor mine,</q> cried Themistocles, snatching at every straw; <q>only + confess, the temptation was great, others were more guilty, everything then may be + done—</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon drew himself together and looked up almost proudly. Slowly he was recovering + strength and wit. </p> + <p> + <q>I have nothing to confess,</q> he spoke, <q>nothing. I know nothing of this Persian + spy. Can I swear the god’s own oath—by Earth, by Sky, by the Styx—</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles shook his head wearily. </p> + <pb n="136"/> + <anchor id="Pg136"/> + <p> + <q>How can we say you are innocent? You never visited the Babylonian?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Never. Never!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Polus and Lampaxo swear otherwise. The letter?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A forgery.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Impossible. Is the forger Democrates or I?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Some god has done this thing in malice, jealous of my great joy.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I fear Hermes no longer strides so frequently about Athens. The hand and seal are + yours,—and still you do not confess?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If I must die,</q> Glaucon was terribly pale, but his voice was steady, <q>it is not + as a perjurer!</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles turned his back with a groan. </p> + <p> + <q>I can do nothing for you. This is the saddest hour in my life.</q> He was silent, but + Democrates sprang to the athlete’s side. </p> + <p> + <q>Have I not prayed each god to spare me this task?</q> he spoke. <q>Can I forget our + friendship? Do not brave it to the end. Pity at least your friends, your wife—</q> + </p> + <p> He threw back his cloak, pointing to a sword. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai</hi>,</q> cried the accused, shrinking. <q>What would you have + me do?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Save the public disgrace, the hooting jury, the hemlock, the corpse flung into the + Barathrum. Strike this into your breast and end the shame.</q> + </p> + <p> No further. Glaucon smote him so that he reeled. The athlete’s tone was terrible. </p> + <p> + <q>Villain! You shall not tempt me.</q> Then he turned to the rest, and stood in his + white agony, yet beautiful as ever, holding out his arms. </p> + <p> + <q>O friends, do you all believe the worst? Do you, Themistocles, turn silently against + me?</q> No answer. <q>And <pb n="137"/><anchor id="Pg137"/>you, Hermippus?</q> No + answer again. <q>And you, Cimon, who praised me as the fairest friend in all the + world?</q> The son of Miltiades simply tore his hair. Then the athlete turned to + Democrates. </p> + <p> + <q>And you I deemed more than comrade, for we were boys at school together, were flogged + with the same rod, and drank from the same cup, had like friends, foes, loves, hates; + and have lived since as more than brothers,—do you too turn utterly away?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I would it were otherwise,</q> came the sullen answer. Again Democrates pointed to + the sword, but Glaucon stood up proudly. </p> + <p> + <q>No. I am neither traitor, nor perjurer, nor coward. If I must perish, it shall be as + becomes an Alcmæonid. If you have resolved to undo me, I know your power over Athenian + juries. I must die. But I shall die with unspotted heart, calling the curse of the + innocent upon the god or man who plotted to destroy me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We have enough of this direful comedy,</q> declared Democrates, pale himself. <q>Only + one thing is left. Call in the Scythians with their gyves, and hale the traitor to + prison.</q> + </p> + <p> He approached the door; the others stood as icy statues, but not Hermione. She had her + back against the door before the orator could open. </p> + <p> + <q>Hold,</q> she commanded, <q>for you are doing murder!</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates halted at the menacing light in her eyes. All the fear had gone out of + them. Athena Promachos, <q>Mistress of Battles,</q> must have stood in that awful beauty + when aroused. Did the goddess teach her in that dread moment of her power over the will + of the orator? Glaucon was still standing motionless, helpless, his last appeal having + ended in mute resignation to inevitable fate. She motioned to him desperately. </p> + <pb n="138"/> + <anchor id="Pg138"/> + <p> + <q>Glaucon! Glaucon!</q> she adjured, <q>do not throw your life away. They shall not + murder you. Up! Rouse yourself! There is yet time. Fly, or all is lost.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fly!</q> spoke the athlete, almost vacantly. <q>No, I will brave them to the end.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For my sake, fly,</q> she ordered, and conjured by that potent talisman, Glaucon + moved toward her. </p> + <p> + <q>How? Whither?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To the ends of the earth, Scythia, Atlantis, India, and remain till all Athens knows + you are innocent.</q> + </p> + <p> As men move who know not what they do, he approached the door. Held by the magic of + her eyes the others stood rigid. They saw Hermione raise the latch. Her husband’s face + met hers in one kiss. The door opened, closed. Glaucon was gone, and as the latch + clicked Democrates shook off the charm and leaped forward. </p> + <p> + <q>After the traitor! Not too late!—</q> + </p> + <p> For an instant he wrestled with Hermione hand to hand, but she was strong through fear + and love. He could not master her. Then a heavy grasp fell on his shoulder—Cimon’s. </p> + <p> + <q>You are beside yourself, Democrates. My memory is longer than yours. To me Glaucon is + still a friend. I’ll not see him dragged to death before my eyes. When we follow even + a fox or a wolf, we give fair start and fair play. You shall not pursue him yet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Blessing on you!</q> cried the wife, falling on her knees and seizing Cimon’s cloak. + <q>Oh, make Themistocles and my father merciful!</q> + </p> + <p> Hermippus—tender-hearted man—was in tears. Themistocles was pacing the little + chamber, his hand tugging his beard, clearly in grievous doubt. </p> + <p> + <q>The Scythians! The constables!</q> Democrates clam<pb n="139"/><anchor id="Pg139"/>oured frantically; <q>every instant gives the traitor better start.</q> + </p> + <p> But Cimon held him fast, and Themistocles was not to be interrupted. Only after a long + time he spoke, and then with authority which brooked no contradiction. </p> + <p> + <q>There is no hole in the net of Democrates’s evidence that Glaucon is guilty of foul + disloyalty, disloyalty worthy of shameful death. Were he any other there would be only + one way with him and that a short one. But Glaucon I know, if I know any man. The + charges even if proved are nigh incredible. For of all the thousands in Hellas his + soul seemed the purest, noblest, most ingenuous. Therefore I will not hasten on his + death. I will give the gods a chance to save him. Let Democrates arraign me for <q>misprision of treason</q> if he will, and of failing in duty to Athens. There shall + be no pursuit of Glaucon until morning. Then let the Eleven<note place="foot">The + police magistrates of Athens.</note> issue their hue and cry. If they take him, let + the law deal with him. Till then give respite.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates attempted remonstrance. Themistocles bade him be silent sharply, and the + other bowed his head in cowed acquiescence. Hermione staggered from the door, her father + unbarred, and the whole wretched company went forth. In the passage hung a burnished + steel mirror; Hermione gave a cry as she passed it. The light borne by Hermippus showed + her in her festival dress, the rippling white drapery, the crown of white violets. </p> + <p> + <q>My father!</q> she cried, falling into his arms, <q>is it still the day of the + Panathenæa, when I marched in the great procession, when all Athens called me happy? + It was a thousand years ago! I can never be glad again—</q> + </p> + <pb n="140"/> + <anchor id="Pg140"/> + <p> He lifted her tenderly as she fainted. Old Cleopis, the Spartan nurse who had kissed + her almost before her mother, ran to her. They carried her to bed, and Athena in mercy + hid her from consciousness that night and all the following day. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="13" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="141"/> + <anchor id="Pg141"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XIII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE DISLOYALTY OF PHORMIO </head> + <p> On the evening of the Panathenæa, Bias, servant of Democrates, had supped with + Phormio,—for in democratic Athens a humble citizen would not disdain to entertain even + a slave. The Thracian had a merry wit and a story-teller’s gift that more than paid for + the supper of barley-porridge and salt mackerel, and after the viands had disappeared + was ready even to tell tales against his master. </p> + <p> + <q>I’ve turned my brain inside out, and shaken it like a meal sack. No wisdom comes. The + <hi rend="italic">kyrios</hi> has something on his mind. He prays to Hermes Dolios + as often as if he were a cut-purse. Then yesterday he sent me for Agis—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Agis?</q> Phormio pricked up his ears. <q>The gambling-house keeper? What does + Democrates with <hi rend="italic">him</hi>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Answer yourself. My master has been to Agis’s pretty place before to see his cocks. + However, this is different. To-day I met Theon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who’s he?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Agis’s slave, the merriest scoundrel in Athens. Agis, he says, has been prancing like + an ass stuffed with barley. He gave Theon a letter from Democrates to take to your + Babylonian opposite; Theon must hunt up Seuthes, a Corinthian, and worm out of him + when and how he was leaving Athens. Agis promised Theon a gold stater if all was + right.</q> + </p> + <pb n="142"/> + <anchor id="Pg142"/> + <p> Phormio whistled. <q>You mean the carpet-dealer here? By Athena’s owls, there is no + light in his window to-night!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>None, indeed,</q> crackled Lampaxo; <q>didn’t I see that cursed Babylonian with his + servants gliding out just as Bias entered? Zeus knows whither! I hope ere dawn + Democrates has them by the heels.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates does something to-night,</q> asserted Bias, extending his cup for wine. <q>At noon Agis flew up to him, chattered something in his ear, whereupon Democrates + bade me be off and not approach him till to-morrow, otherwise a cane gets broken on my + shoulders.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It’s not painful to have a holiday,</q> laughed Phormio. </p> + <p> + <q>It’s most painful to be curious yet unsatisfied.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But why did not you take the letter to the Babylonian?</q> observed Phormio, + shrewdly. </p> + <p> + <q>I’m perplexed, indeed. Only one thing is possible.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And that is—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Theon is not known in this street. I am. Perhaps the <hi rend="italic">kyrios</hi> + didn’t care to have it rumoured he had dealings with that Babylonian.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Silence, undutiful scoundrel,</q> ordered Lampaxo, from her corner; <q>what has so + noble a patriot as Democrates to conceal? Ugh! Be off with you! Phormio, don’t dare to + fill up the tipsy fox’s beaker again. I want to pull on my nightcap and go to bed.</q> + </p> + <p> Bias did not take the hint. Phormio was considering whether it was best to join combat + with his redoubtable spouse, or save his courage for a more important battle, when a + slight noise from the street made all listen. </p> + <p> + <q>Pest light on those bands of young roisterers!</q> fumed Lampaxo. <q>They go around + all night, beating on doors and vexing honest folk. Why don’t the constables trot them + all to jail?</q> + </p> + <pb n="143"/> + <anchor id="Pg143"/> + <p> + <q>This isn’t a drunken band, good wife,</q> remarked Phormio, rising; <q>some one is + sitting on the stones by the Hermes, near the door, groaning as if in pain.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A drunkard? Let him lie then,</q> commanded Lampaxo; <q>let the coat-thieves come and + filch his chiton.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He’s hardly drunken,</q> observed her husband, peering through the lattice in the + door, <q>but sick rather. Don’t detain me, <hi rend="italic">philotata</hi>,</q>—Lampaxo’s skinny hand had tried to restrain. <q>I’ll not let even + a dog suffer.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You’ll be ruined by too much charity,</q> bewailed the woman, but Bias followed the + fishmonger into the night. The moon shone down the narrow street, falling over the + stranger who half lay, half squatted by the Hermes. When the two approached him, he + tried to stagger to his feet, then reeled, and Phormio’s strong arms seized him. The man + resisted feebly, and seemed never to hear the fishmonger’s friendly questions. </p> + <p> + <q>I am innocent. Do not arrest me. Help me to the temple of Hephæstos, where there’s + asylum for fugitives. Ah! Hermione, that I should bring you this!</q> + </p> + <p> Bias leaped back as the moonlight glanced over the face of the stranger. </p> + <p> + <q>Master Glaucon, half naked and mad! <hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> woe!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon the Alcmæonid,</q> echoed Phormio, in amazement, and the other still + struggled to escape. </p> + <p> + <q>Do you not hear? I am innocent. I never visited the Persian spy. I never betrayed the + fleet. By what god can I swear it, that you may believe?</q> + </p> + <p> Phormio was a man to recover from surprise quickly, and act swiftly and to the + purpose. He made haste to lead his unfortunate visitor inside and lay him on his one + hard couch. Scarcely was this done, however, when Lampaxo ran up to Glaucon in mingled + rage and exultation. </p> + <pb n="144"/> + <anchor id="Pg144"/> + <p> + <q>Phormio doesn’t know what Polus and I told Democrates, or what he told us! So you + thought to escape, you white-skinned traitor? But we’ve watched you. We know how you + went to the Babylonian. We know your guilt. And now the good gods have stricken you + mad and delivered you to justice.</q> She waved her bony fists in the prostrate man’s + face. <q>Run, Phormio! don’t stand gaping like a magpie. Run, I say—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whither? For a physician?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To Areopagus, fool! There’s where the constables have their camp. Bring ten men with + fetters. He’s strong and desperate. Bias and I will wait and guard him. If you stir, + traitor,—</q> she was holding a heavy meat-knife at the fugitive’s throat,—<q>I’ll + slit your weasand like a chicken.</q> + </p> + <p> But for once in his life Phormio defied his tyrant effectively. With one hand he tore + the weapon from her clutch, the other closed her screaming mouth. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you mad yourself? Will you rouse the neighbourhood? I don’t know what you and + Polus tattled about to Democrates. I don’t greatly care. As for going for constables + to seize Glaucon the Fortunate—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fortunate!</q> echoed the miserable youth, rising on one elbow, <q>say it never + again. The gods have blasted me with one great blow. And you—you are Phormio, husband + and brother-in-law of those who have sworn against me,—you are the slave of + Democrates my destroyer,—and you, woman,—Zeus soften you!—already clamour for my + worthless life, as all Athens does to-morrow!</q> + </p> + <p> Lampaxo suddenly subsided. Resistance from her spouse was so unexpected she lost at + once arguments and breath. Phormio continued to act promptly; taking a treasured bottle + from a cupboard he filled a mug and pressed it to the <pb n="145"/><anchor id="Pg145"/>newcomer’s lips. The fiery liquor sent the colour back into Glaucon’s face. He raised + himself higher—strength and mind in a measure returned. Bias had whispered to Phormio + rapidly. Perhaps he had guessed more of his master’s doings than he had dared to hint + before. </p> + <p> + <q>Hark you, Master Glaucon,</q> began Phormio, not unkindly. <q>You are with friends, + and never heed my wife. She’s not so steely hearted as she seems.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Seize the traitor,</q> interjected Lampaxo, with a gasp. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell your story. I’m a plain and simple man, who won’t believe a gentleman with your + fair looks, fame, and fortune has pawned them all in a night. Bias has sense. First + tell how you came to wander down this way.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon sat upright, his hands pressing against his forehead. </p> + <p> + <q>How can I tell? I have run to and fro, seeing yet not seeing whither I went. I know I + passed the Acharnican gate, and the watch stared at me. Doubtless I ran hither because + here they said the Babylonian lived, and he has been ever in my head. I shudder to go + over the scene at Colonus. I wish I were dead. Then I could forget it!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Constables—fetters!</q> howled Lampaxo, as a direful interlude, to be silenced by an + angry gesture from her helpmeet. </p> + <p> + <q><anchor id="corr145"/><corr sic="Neverthless">Nevertheless</corr>, try to tell what you can,</q> spoke Phormio, mildly, and Glaucon, with + what power he had, complied. Broken, faltering, scarce coherent often, his story came at + last. He sat silent while Phormio clutched his own head. Then Glaucon darted around wild + and hopeless eyes. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> you believe me guilty. I almost believe so myself. All my + best friends have cast me off. Democrates, my friend from youth, has wrought my ruin. + My wife I shall never see again. I am resolved—</q> He rose. A desperate purpose made + his feet steady. </p> + <pb n="146"/> + <anchor id="Pg146"/> + <p> + <q>What will you do?</q> demanded Phormio, perplexed. </p> + <p> + <q>One thing is left. I am sure to be arrested at dawn if not before. I will go to the + <q>City-House,</q> the public prison, and give myself up. The ignominy will soon + end. Then welcome the Styx, Hades, the never ending night—better than this shame!</q> + </p> + <p> He started forth, but Phormio’s hand restrained him. <q>Not so fast, lad! Thank + Olympus, I’m not Lampaxo. You’re too young a turbot for Charon’s fish-net. Let me + think a moment.</q> + </p> + <p> The fishmonger stood scratching his thin hairs. Another howl from Lampaxo decided him. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you a traitor, too? Away with the wretch to prison!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’m resolved,</q> cried Phormio, striking his thigh. <q>Only an honest man could get + such hatred from my wife. If they’ve not tracked you yet, they’re not likely to find + you before morning. My cousin Brasidas is master of the <name type="ship">Solon</name>, + and owes a good turn—</q> + </p> + <p> Quick strides took him to a chest. He dragged forth a sleeveless sailor’s cloak of + <anchor id="corr146"/><corr sic="haircloth">hair-cloth</corr>. To fling this over Glaucon’s + rent chiton took an instant, another instant to + clap on the fugitive’s head a brimless red cap. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi>—you grow transformed. But that white face of yours is + dangerous. See!</q> he rubbed over the Alcmæonid’s face two handfuls of black ashes + snatched from the hearth and sprang back with a great laugh, <q>you’re a sailor unlading + charcoal now. Zeus himself would believe it. All is ready—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For prison?</q> asked Glaucon, clearly understanding little. </p> + <p> + <q>For the sea, my lad. For Athens is no place for you to-morrow, and Brasidas sails at + dawn. Some more wine? It’s a long, brisk walk.</q> + </p> + <pb n="147"/> + <anchor id="Pg147"/> + <p> + <q>To the havens? You trust me? You doubt the accusation which every friend save + Hermione believes? O pure Athena—and this is possible!</q> Again Glaucon’s head + whirled. It took more of the fiery wine to stay him up. </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, boy,</q> comforted Phormio, very gruff, <q>you shall walk again around Athens + with a bold, brave face, though not to-morrow, I fear. Polus trusts his heart and not + his head in voting <q>guilty,</q> so I trust it voting <q>innocent.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I warn you,</q> Glaucon spoke rapidly, <q>I’ve no claim on your friendship. If your + part in this is discovered, you know our juries.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That I know,</q> laughed Phormio, grimly, <q>for I know dear Polus. So now my own + cloak and we are off.</q> + </p> + <p> But Lampaxo, who had watched everything with accumulating anger, now burst loose. She + bounded to the door. </p> + <p> + <q>Constables! Help! Athens is betrayed!</q> + </p> + <p> She bawled that much through the lattice before her husband and Bias dragged her back. + Fortunately the street was empty. </p> + <p> + <q>That I should see this! My own husband betraying the city! Aiding a traitor!</q> Then + she began whimpering through her nose. <q><hi rend="italic">Mu! mu!</hi> leave the + villain to his fate. Think of me if not of your own safety. Woe! when was a woman more + misused?</q> + </p> + <p> But here her lament ended, for Phormio, with the firmness of a man thoroughly + determined, thrust a rag into her mouth and with Bias’s help bound her down upon the + couch by means of a convenient fish-cord. </p> + <p> + <q>I am grieved to stop your singing, blessed dear,</q> spoke the fishmonger, indulging + in a rare outburst of sarcasm against his formidable helpmeet, <q>but we play a game + with Fate to-night a little too even to allow unfair chances. Bias will watch you + until I return, and then I can discover, <hi rend="italic">philotata</hi>, <pb n="148"/><anchor id="Pg148"/>whether your love for Athens is so great you must go to the + Archon to denounce your husband.</q> + </p> + <p> The Thracian promised to do his part. His affection for Democrates was clearly not the + warmest. Lampaxo’s farewell, as Phormio guided his half-dazed companion into the street, + was a futile struggle and a choking. The ways were empty and silent. Glaucon allowed + himself to be led by the hand and did not speak. He hardly knew how or whither Phormio + was taking him. Their road lay along the southern side of the Acropolis, past the tall + columns of the unfinished Temple of Zeus, which reared to giant height in the white + moonlight. This, as well as the overshadowing Rock itself, they left behind without + incident. Phormio chose devious alleys, and they met neither Scythian constables nor + bands of roisterers. Only once the two passed a house bright with lamps. Jovial guests + celebrated a late wedding feast. Clearly the two heard the marriage hymn of Sappho. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">The bridegroom comes tall as Ares,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 5">Ho, Hymenæus!</l> + <l>Taller than a mighty man,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 5"><q rend="pre: none">Ho, Hymenæus!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Glaucon stopped like one struck with an arrow. </p> + <p> + <q>They sang that song the night I wedded Hermione. Oh, if I could drink the Lethe water + and forget!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Come,</q> commanded Phormio, pulling upon his arm. <q>The sun will shine again + to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> Thus the twain went forward, Glaucon saying not a word. He hardly knew how they passed + the Itonian Gate and crossed the long stretch of open country betwixt the city and its + havens. No pursuit as yet—Glaucon was too perplexed to reason why. At last he knew they + entered Phaleron. He heard the slapping waves, the creaking tackle, the shouting + sailors. Torches gleamed ruddily. A mer<pb n="149"/><anchor id="Pg149"/>chantman was + loading her cargo of pottery crates and oil jars,—to sail with the morning breeze. + Swarthy shipmen ran up and down the planks betwixt quay and ship, balancing their heavy + jars on their heads as women bear water-pots. From the tavern by the mooring came + harping and the clatter of cups, while two women—the worse for wine—ran out to drag + the newcomers in to their revel. Phormio slapped the slatterns aside with his staff. In + the same fearful waking dream Glaucon saw Phormio demanding the shipmaster. He saw + Brasidas—a short man with the face of a hound and arms to hug like a bear—in converse + with the fishmonger, saw the master at first refusing, then gradually giving reluctant + assent to some demand. Next Phormio was half leading, half carrying the fugitive aboard + the ship, guiding him through a labyrinth of bales, jars, and cordage, and pointing to a + hatchway ladder, illumined by a swinging lantern. </p> + <p> + <q>Keep below till the ship sails; don’t wipe the charcoal from your face till clear of + Attica. Officers will board the vessel before she puts off; yet have no alarm, they’ll + only come to see she doesn’t violate the law against exporting grain.</q> Phormio + delivered his admonitions rapidly, at the same time fumbling in his belt. <q>Here—here + are ten drachmæ, all I’ve about me, but something for bread and figs till you make new + friends,—in which there’ll be no trouble, I warrant. Have a brave heart. Remember + that Helios can shine lustily even if you are not in Athens, and pray the gods to give + a fair return.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon felt the money pressed within his palm. He saw Phormio turning away. He caught + the fishmonger’s hard hand and kissed it twice. </p> + <p> + <q>I can never reward you. Not though I live ten thousand years and have all the gold of + Gyges.</q> + </p> + <pb n="150"/> + <anchor id="Pg150"/> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Phui!</hi></q> answered Phormio, with a shrug; <q>don’t detain me, + it’s time I was home and was unlashing my loving wife.</q> + </p> + <p> And with that he was gone. Glaucon descended the ladder. The cabin was low, dark, + unfurnished save with rude pallets of straw, but Glaucon heeded none of these things. + Deeper than the accusation by Democrates, than the belief therein by Themistocles and + the others, the friendship of the fishmonger touched him. A man base-born, ignorant, + uncivil, had believed him, had risked his own life to save him, had given him money out + of his poverty, had spoken words of fair counsel and cheer. On the deck above the + sailors were tumbling the cargo, and singing at their toil, but Glaucon never heard + them. Flinging himself on a straw pallet, for the first time came the comfort of hot + tears. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Very early the <name type="ship">Solon’s</name> square mainsail caught the breeze from + the warm southwest. The hill of Munychia and the ports receded. The panorama of + Athens—plain, city, citadel, gray Hymettus, white Pentelicus—spread in a vista of + surpassing beauty—so at least to the eyes of the outlaw when he clambered to the poop. + As the ship ran down the low coast, land and sea seemed clothed with a robe of + rainbow-woven light. Far, near,—islands, mountains, and deep were burning with saffron, + violet, and rose, as the Sun-God’s car climbed higher above the burning path it marked + across the sea. Glaucon saw all in clear relief,—the Acropolis temple where he had + prayed, the Pnyx and Areopagus, the green band of the olive groves, even the knoll of + Colonus,—where he had left his all. Never had he loved Athens more than now. Never had + she seemed fairer to his eyes than now. He was a Greek, and to a Greek death was only by + one stage a greater ill than exile. </p> + <p> + <q>O Athena Polias,</q> he cried, stretching his hands to the <pb n="151"/><anchor id="Pg151"/>fading beauty, <q>goddess who determineth all aright,—bless thou this + land, though it wakes to call me traitor. Teach it to know I am innocent. Comfort + Hermione, my wife. And restore me to Athens, after doing deeds which wipe out all my + unearned shame!</q> + </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Solon</name> rounded the cape. The headland concealed the city. + The Saronian bay opened into the deeper blue of the Ægean and its sprinkling of brown + islands. Glaucon looked eastward and strove to forget Attica. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Two hours later all Athens seemed reading this placard in the Agora:— </p> + + + + <p rend="display; center"> NOTICE </p> + <p rend="display"> For the arrest of <hi rend="smallcaps">Glaucon, Son of Conon</hi>, charged with + high treason, I will pay one talent. </p> + <p rend="display; text-align: right"> + <hi rend="smallcaps">Dexileus</hi>, Chairman of the Eleven. </p> + + + + <p> Other such placards were posted in Peiræus, in Eleusis, in Marathon, in every Attic + village. Men could talk of nothing else. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="14" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="152"/> + <anchor id="Pg152"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XIV</head> + <head type="sub"> MARDONIUS THE PERSIAN </head> + <p> Off Andros the northern gale smote them. The ship had driven helplessly. </p> + <p> Off Tenos only the skill of Brasidas kept the <name type="ship">Solon</name> clear of + the rocky shores. </p> + <p> As they raced past holy Delos the frightened passengers had vowed twelve oxen to + Apollo if he saved them. </p> + <p> Near Naxos, Brasidas, after vainly trying to make a friendly haven, bade his sailors + undergird the ship with heavy cables, for the timbers seemed starting. Finally he + suffered his craft to drive,—hoping at least to find some islet with a sandy shore + where he could beach her with safety. </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Solon</name>, however, was near her doom. She was built on the + Samian model, broad, flat, high in poop, low in prow,—excellent for cargo, but none too + seaworthy. The foresail blew in tatters. The closely brailed mainsail shook the weakened + mast. The sailors had dropped their quaint oaths, and began to pray—sure proof of + danger. The dozen passengers seemed almost too panic-stricken to aid in flinging the + cargo overboard. Several were raving. </p> + <p> + <q>Hearken, Poseidon of Calauria,</q> howled a Peiræus merchant against the screeching + blasts, <q>save from this peril and I vow thee and thy temple two mixing bowls of purest + gold!</q> + </p> + <pb n="153"/> + <anchor id="Pg153"/> + <p> + <q>A great vow,</q> suggested a calmer comrade. <q>All your fortune can hardly pay + it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hush,</q> spoke the other, in undertone, <q>don’t let the god overhear me; let me get + safe to Mother Earth and Poseidon has not one obol. His power is only over the + sea.</q> + </p> + <p> A creaking from the mainmast told that it might fall at any moment. Passengers and + crew redoubled their shouts to Poseidon and to Zeus of Ægina. A fat passenger staggered + from his cabin, a huge money-bag bound to his belt,—as if gold were the safest spar to + cling to in that boiling deep. Others, less frantic, gave commissions one to another, in + case one perished and another escaped. </p> + <p> + <q>You alone have no messages, pray no prayers, show no fear!</q> spoke a grave, elderly + man to Glaucon, as both clutched the swaying bulwark. </p> + <p> + <q>And wherefore?</q> came the bitter answer; <q>what is left me to fear? I desire no + life hereafter. There can be no consciousness without sad memory.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You are very young to speak thus.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But not too young to have suffered.</q> + </p> + <p> A wave dashed one of the steering rudders out of the grip of the sailor guiding it. + The rush of water swept him overboard. The <name type="ship">Solon</name> lurched. The + wind smote the straining mainsail, and the shivered mainmast tore from its stays and + socket. Above the bawling of wind and water sounded the crash. The ship, with only a + small sail upon the poop, blew about into the trough of the sea. A mountain of green + water thundered over the prow, bearing away men and wreckage. The <q>governor,</q> + Brasidas’s mate, flung away the last steering tiller. </p> + <p> + <q>The <name type="ship">Solon</name> is dying, men,</q> he trumpeted through his hands. + <q>To the boat! Save who can!</q> + </p> + <p> The pinnace set in the waist was cleared away by frantic <pb n="154"/><anchor id="Pg154"/>hands and axes. Ominous rumblings from the hold told how the undergirding + could not keep back the water. The pinnace was dragged to the ship’s lee and launched in + the comparative calm of the <name type="ship">Solon’s</name> broadside. Pitifully small + was the boat for five and twenty. The sailors, desperate and selfish, leaped in first, + and watched with jealous eyes the struggles of the passengers to follow. The noisy + merchant slipped in the leap, and they heard him scream once as the wave swallowed him. + Brasidas stood in the bow of the pinnace, clutching a sword to cut the last rope. The + boat filled to the gunwales. The spray dashed into her. The sailors bailed with their + caps. Another passenger leaped across, whereat the men yelled and drew their dirks. </p> + <p> + <q>Three are left. Room for one more. The rest must swim!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon stood on the poop. Was life still such a precious thing to some that they must + clutch for it so desperately? He had even a painful amusement in watching the others. Of + himself he thought little save to hope that under the boiling sea was rest and no return + of memory. Then Brasidas called him. </p> + <p> + <q>Quick! The others are Barbarians and you a Hellene. Your chance—leap!</q> + </p> + <p> He did not stir. The <q>others</q>—two strangers in Oriental dress—were striving to + enter the pinnace. The seamen thrust their dirks out to force them back. </p> + <p> + <q>Full enough!</q> bawled the <q>governor.</q> + <q>That fellow on the poop is mad. Cut the rope, or we are caught in the swirl.</q> + </p> + <p> The elder Barbarian lifted his companion as if to fling him into the boat, but + Brasidas’s sword cut the one cable. The wave flung the <name type="ship">Solon</name> and + the pinnace asunder. With stolid resignation the Orientals retreated to the poop. The + people in the pinnace rowed desperately to keep her out of the deadly <pb n="155"/><anchor id="Pg155"/>trough of the billows, but Glaucon stood erect on the drifting + wreck and his voice rang through the tumult of the sea. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell them in Athens, and tell Hermione my wife, that Glaucon the Alcmæonid went down + into the deep declaring his innocence and denouncing the vengeance of Athena on + whosoever foully destroyed him!—</q> + </p> + <p> Brasidas waved his sword in last farewell. Glaucon turned back to the wreck. The <name type="ship">Solon</name> had settled lower. Every wave washed across the waist. + Nothing seemed to meet his gaze save the leaden sky, the leaden green water, the foam of + the bounding storm-crests. He told himself the gods were good. Drowning was more + merciful death than hemlock. Pelagos, the untainted sea, was a softer grave than the + Barathrum. The memory of the fearful hour at Colonus, the vision of the face of + Hermione, of all things else that he would fain forget—all these would pass. For what + came after he cared nothing. </p> + <p> So for some moments he stood, clinging upon the poop, awaiting the end. But the end + came slowly. The <name type="ship">Solon</name> was a stoutly timbered ship. Much of her + lading had been cast overboard, but more remained and gave buoyancy to the wreckage. And + as the Athenian awaited, almost impatiently, the final disaster, something called his + eye away from the heaving sky-line. Human life was still about him. Wedged in a refuge, + betwixt two capstans, the Orientals were sitting, awaiting doom like himself. But wonder + of wonders,—he had not relaxed his hold on life too much to marvel,—the younger + Barbarian was beyond all doubt a woman. She sat in her companion’s lap, lifting her + white face to his, and Glaucon knew she was of wondrous beauty. They were talking + together in some Eastern speech. Their arms were closely twined. It was plain they were + passing the last love messages before entering the great mystery together. Of <pb n="156"/><anchor id="Pg156"/>Glaucon they took no heed. And he at first was almost + angered that strangers should intrude upon this last hour of life. But as he looked, as + he saw the beauty of the woman, the sheen of her golden hair, the interchange of love by + touch and word,—there came across his own spirit a most unlooked-for change. Suddenly + the white-capped billows seemed pitiless and chill. The warm joy of life returned. Again + memory surged back, but without its former pang. He saw again the vision of Athens, of + Colonus, of Eleusis-by-the-Sea. He saw Hermione running through the throng to meet him + the day he returned from the Isthmia. He heard the sweet wind singing over the old + olives beside the cool Cephissus. Must these all pass forever? forever? Were life, + friends, love, the light of the sun, eternally lost, and nothing left save the endless + sleep in the unsunned caves of Oceanus? With one surge the desire to live, to bear hard + things, to conquer them, returned. He dashed the water from his eyes. What he did next + was more by instinct than by reason. He staggered across the reeling deck, approached + the Barbarians, and seized the man by the arm. </p> + <p> + <q>Would you live and not die? Up, then,—there is still a chance.</q> + </p> + <p> The man gazed up blankly. </p> + <p> + <q>We are in Mazda’s hands,</q> he answered in foreign accent. <q>It is manifestly his + will that we should pass now the Chinvat bridge. We are helpless. Where is the + pinnace?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon dragged him roughly to his feet. </p> + <p> + <q>I do not know your gods. Do not speak of their will to destroy us till the + destruction falls. Do you love this woman?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Save her, let me twice perish.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Rouse yourself, then. One hope is left!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What hope?</q> + </p> + <pb n="157"/> + <anchor id="Pg157"/> + <p> + <q>A raft. We can cast a spar overboard. It will float us. You look strong,—aid me.</q> + </p> + <p> The man rose and, thoroughly aroused, seconded the Athenian intelligently and + promptly. The lurches of the merchantman told how close she was to her end. One of the + seamen’s axes lay on the poop. Glaucon seized it. The foremast was gone and the + mainmast, but the small boat-mast still stood, though its sail had blown to a thousand + flapping streamers. Glaucon laid his axe at the foot of the spar. Two fierce strokes + weakened so that the next lurch sent it crashing overboard. It swung in the mælstrom by + its stays and the halyards of the sail. Tossing to and fro like a bubble, it was a + fearful hope, but a louder rumbling from the hold warned how other hope had fled. The + Barbarian recoiled as he looked on it. </p> + <p> + <q>It can never float through this storm,</q> Glaucon heard him crying between the + blasts, but the Athenian beckoned him onward. </p> + <p> + <q>Leap!</q> commanded Glaucon; <q>spring as the mast rises on the next wave.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I cannot forsake her,</q> called back the man, pointing to the woman, who lay with + flying hair between the capstans, helpless and piteous now that her lover was no longer + near. </p> + <p> + <q>I will provide for her. Leap!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon lifted the woman in his arms. He took a manner of pride in showing the + Barbarian his skill. The man looked at him once, saw he could be trusted, and took the + leap. He landed in the water, but caught the <anchor id="corr157"/><corr sic="sailcloth">sail-cloth</corr> drifting from the mast, climbed + beside it, and sat astride. The Athenian sprang at the next favoring wave. His burden + made the task hard, but his stadium training never stood in better stead. The cold water + closed around him. The wave dragged down in its black abyss, but he struck boldly <pb n="158"/><anchor id="Pg158"/>upward, was beside the friendly spar, and the Barbarian + aided him to mount beside him, then cut the lashings to the <name type="ship">Solon</name> + with the dagger that still dangled at his belt. The billows swept them away just as the + wreck reared wildly, and bow foremost plunged into the deep. They bound the woman—she + was hardly conscious now—into the little shelter formed by the junction of the broken + sail-yard and the mast. The two men sat beside her, shielding her with their bodies from + the beat of the spray. Speech was all but impossible. They were fain to close their eyes + and pray to be delivered from the unceasing screaming of the wind, the howling of the + waters. And so for hours.... </p> + <p> Glaucon never knew how long they thus drifted. The <name type="ship">Solon</name> had + been smitten very early in the morning. She had foundered perhaps at noon. It may have + been shortly before sunset—though Helios never pierced the clouds that storm-racked + day—when Glaucon knew that the Barbarian was speaking to him. </p> + <p> + <q>Look!</q> The wind had lulled a little; the man could make himself heard. <q>What is + it?</q> + </p> + <p> Through the masses of gray spray and driving mist Glaucon gazed when the next long + wave tossed them. A glimpse,—but the joys of Olympus seemed given with that sight; + wind-swept, wave-beaten, rock-bound, that half-seen ridge of brown was land,—and land + meant life, the life he had longed to fling away in the morning, the life he longed to + keep that night. He shouted the discovery to his companion, who bowed his head, + manifestly in prayer. </p> + <p> The wind bore them rapidly. Glaucon, who knew the isles of the Ægean as became a + Hellene, was certain they drove on Astypalæa, an isle subject to Persia, though one of + the outermost Cyclades. The woman was in no state to realize their crisis. Only a hand + laid on her bosom told that her <pb n="159"/><anchor id="Pg159"/>heart still fluttered. + She could not endure the surge and the suffocating spray much longer. The two men sat in + silence, but their eyes went out hungrily toward the stretch of brown as it lifted above + the wave crests. The last moments of the desperate voyage crept by like the pangs of + Tantalus. Slowly they saw unfolding the fog-clothed mountains, a forest, scattered bits + of white they knew were stuccoed houses; but while their eyes brought joy, their ears + brought sadness. The booming of the surf upon an outlying ledge grew ever clearer. + Almost ere they knew it the drifting mast was stayed with a shock. They saw two rocks + swathed in dripping weed that crusted with knife-like barnacles, thrust their black + heads out of the boiling water. And beyond—fifty paces away—the breakers raced up the + sandy shore where waited refuge. </p> + <p> The spar wedged fast in the rocks. The waves beat over it pitilessly. He who stayed by + it long had better have sunk with the <name type="ship">Solon</name>,—his would have been + an easier death. Glaucon laid his mouth to the man’s ear. </p> + <p> + <q>Swim through the surf. I will bear the woman safely.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Save her, and be you blessed forever. I die happy. I cannot swim.</q> + </p> + <p> The moment was too terrible for Glaucon to feel amazed at this confession. To a + Hellene swimming was second nature. He thought and spoke quickly. </p> + <p> + <q>Climb on the higher rock. The wave does not cover it entirely. Dig your toes in the + crevices. Cling to the seaweed. I will return for you.</q> + </p> + <p> He never heard what the other cried back to him. He tore the woman clear of her + lashings, threw his left arm about her, and fought his way through the surf. He could + swim like a Delian, the best swimmers in Hellas; but the task was mighty even for the + athlete. Twice the deadly undertow <pb n="160"/><anchor id="Pg160"/>almost dragged him + downward. Then the soft sand was oozing round his feet. He knew a knot of fisher folk + were running to the beach, a dozen hands took his fainting burden from him. One instant + he stood with the water rushing about his ankles, gasped and drew long breaths, then + turned his face toward the sea. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you crazed?</q> he heard voices clamouring—they seemed a great way off,—<q>a + miracle that you lived through the surf once! Leave the other to fate. Phorcys has + doomed him already.</q> + </p> + <p> But Glaucon was past acting by reason now. His head seemed a ball of fire. Only his + hands and feet responded mechanically to the dim impulse of his bewildered brain. Once + more the battling through the surf, this time against it and threefold harder. Only the + man whose strength had borne the giant Spartan down could have breasted the billows that + came leaping to destroy him. He felt his powers were strained to the last notch. A + little more and he knew he might roll helpless, but even so he struggled onward. Once + again the two black rocks were springing out of the swollen water. He saw the Barbarian + clinging desperately to the higher. Why was he risking his life for a man who was not a + Hellene, who might be even a servant of the dreaded Xerxes? A strange moment for such + questionings, and no time to answer! He clung to the seaweed beside the Barbarian for an + instant, then through the gale cried to the other to place his hands upon his shoulders. + The Oriental complied intelligently. For a third time Glaucon struggled across the + raging flood. The passage seemed endless, and every receding breaker dragging down to + the graves of Oceanus. The Athenian knew his power was failing, and doled it out as a + miser, counting his strokes, taking deep gulps of air between each wave. Then, even <pb n="161"/><anchor id="Pg161"/>while consciousness and strength seemed passing together, + again beneath his feet were the shifting sands, again the voices encouraging, the hands + outstretched, strange forms running down into the surf, strange faces all around him. + They were bearing him and the Barbarian high upon the beach. They laid him on the hard, + wet sand—never a bed more welcome. He was naked. His feet and hands bled from the + tearing of stones and barnacles. His head was in fever glow. Dimly he knew the Barbarian + was approaching him. </p> + <p> + <q>Hellene, you have saved us. What is your name?</q> + </p> + <p> The other barely raised his head. <q>In Athens, Glaucon the Alcmæonid, but now I am + without name, without country.</q> + </p> + <p> The Oriental answered by kneeling on the sands and touching his head upon them close + to Glaucon’s feet. </p> + <p> + <q>Henceforth, O Deliverer, you shall be neither nameless nor outcast. For you have + saved me and her I love more than self. You have saved Artazostra, sister of Xerxes, + and Mardonius, son of Gobryas, who is not the least of the Princes of Persia and + Eran.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Mardonius—arch foe of Hellas!</q> Glaucon spoke the words in horror. Then reaction + from all he had undergone robbed him of sense. They carried him to the fisher-village. + That night he burned with fever and raved wildly. It was many days before he knew + anything again. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Six days later a Byzantine corn-ship brought from Amorgos to Peiræus two survivors of + the <name type="ship">Solon</name>,—the only ones to escape the swamping of the pinnace. + Their story cleared up the mystery of the fate of <q>Glaucon the Traitor.</q> + <q>The gods,</q> said every Agora wiseacre, <q>had rewarded the villain with their own + hands.</q> The Babylonish carpet-seller and Hiram had vanished, despite all search, + but every<pb n="162"/><anchor id="Pg162"/>body praised Democrates for saving the state + from a fearful peril. As for Hermione, her father took her to Eleusis that she might be + free from the hoots of the people. Themistocles went about his business very sorrowful. + Cimon lost half his gayety. Democrates, too, appeared terribly worn. <q>How he loved his + friend!</q> said every admirer. Beyond doubt for long Democrates was exceeding + thoughtful. Perhaps a reason for this was that about a month after the going of Glaucon + he learned from Sicinnus that Prince Mardonius was at length in Sardis,—and possibly + Democrates knew on what vessel the carpet-seller had taken flight. </p> + </div> + </div> + <div type="book" n="2" rend="page-break-before: right"> + <pb n="163"/> + <anchor id="Pg163"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>BOOK II</head> + <head type="sub"> THE COMING OF THE PERSIAN </head> + <pb n="164"/> + <anchor id="Pg164"/> + <p> + </p> + <div type="chapter" n="15" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="165"/> + <anchor id="Pg165"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XV</head> + <head type="sub"> THE LOTUS-EATING AT SARDIS </head> + <p> When Glaucon awoke to consciousness, it was with a sense of absolute weakness, at the + same moment with a sense of absolute rest. He knew that he was lying on pillows <q>softer than sleep,</q> that the air he breathed was laden with perfume, that the + golden light which came through his half-closed eyelids was deliciously tempered, that + his ears caught a musical murmur, as of a plashing fountain. So he lay for long, too + impotent, too contented to ask where he lay, or whence he had departed. Athens, + Hermione, all the thousand and one things of his old life, flitted through his brain, + but only as vague, far shapes. He was too weak even to long for them. Still the fountain + plashed on, and mingling with the tinkling he thought he heard low flutes breathing. + Perhaps it was only a phantasy of his flagging brain. Then his eyes opened wider. He + lifted his hand. It was a task even to do that little thing,—he was so weak. He looked + at the hand! Surely his own, yet how white it was, how thin; the bones were there, the + blue veins, but all the strength gone out of them. Was this the hand that had flung + great Lycon down? It would be mere sport for a child to master him now. He touched his + face. It was covered with a thick beard, as of a long month’s growth. The discovery <pb n="166"/><anchor id="Pg166"/>startled him. He strove to rise on one elbow. Too weak! + He sank back upon the cushions and let his eyes rove inquiringly. Never had he seen + tapestries the like of those that canopied his bed. Scarlet and purple and embroidered + in gold thread with elaborate hunting scenes,—the dogs, the chariots, the slaying of + the deer, the bearing home of the game. He knew the choicest looms of Sidon must have + wrought them. And the linen, so cool, so grateful, underneath his head—was it not the + almost priceless fabric of Borsippa? He stirred a little, his eyes rested on the floor. + It was covered with a rug worth an Athenian patrician’s ransom,—a lustrous, variegated + sheen, showing a new tint at each change of the light. So much he saw from the bed, and + curiosity was wakened. Again he put forth his hand, and touched the hanging curtains. + The movement set a score of little silver bells that dangled over the canopy to + jingling. As at a signal the flutes grew louder, mingling with them was the clearer note + of lyres. Now the strains swelled sweetly, now faded away into dreamy sighing, as if + bidding the listener to sink again into the arms of sleep. Another vain effort to rise + on his elbow. Again he was helpless. Giving way to the charm of the music, he closed his + eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>Either I am awaking in Elysium, or the gods send to me pleasant dreams before I + die.</q> + </p> + <p> He was feebly wondering which was the alternative when a new sound roused him, the + sweep and rustle of the dresses of two women as they approached the bed. He gazed forth + listlessly, when lo! above his couch stood two strangers,—strangers, but either as fair + as Aphrodite arising from the sea. Both were tall, and full of queenly grace, both were + dressed in gauzy white, but the hair of the one was of such gold that Glaucon hardly saw + the circlet which <pb n="167"/><anchor id="Pg167"/>pressed over it. Her eyes were blue, + the lustre of her face was like a white rose. The other’s hair shone like the wing of a + raven. A wreath of red poppies covered it, but over the softly tinted forehead there + peered forth a golden snake with emerald eyes—the Egyptian uræus, the crown of a + princess from the Nile. Her eyes were as black as the other’s were blue, her lips as red + as the dye of Tyre, her hands—But before Glaucon looked and wondered more, the first, + she of the golden head, laid her hand upon his face,—a warm, comforting hand that + seemed to speed back strength and gladness with the touch. Then she spoke. Her Greek was + very broken, yet he understood her. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you quite awakened, dear Glaucon?</q> + </p> + <p> He looked up marvelling, not knowing how to answer; but the golden goddess seemed to + expect none from him. </p> + <p> + <q>It is now a month since we brought you from Astypalæa. You have wandered close to the + Portals of the Dead. We feared you were beloved by Mazda too well, that you would + never wake that we might bless you. Night and day have my husband and I prayed to + Mithra the Merciful and Hauratât the Health-Giver in your behalf; each sunrise, at our + command, the Magians have poured out for you the Haôma, the sacred juice dear to the + Beautiful Immortals, and Amenhat, wisest of the physicians of Memphis, has stood by + your bedside without rest. Now at last our prayers and his skill have conquered; you + awake to life and gladness.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon lay wondering, not knowing how to reply, and only understanding in half, when + the dark-haired goddess spoke, in purer Greek than her companion. </p> + <p> + <q>And I, O Glaucon of Athens, would have you suffer me to kiss your feet. For you have + given my brother and my sister back to life.</q> Then drawing near she took his hand + in hers, while the two smiling looked down on him. </p> + <pb n="168"/> + <anchor id="Pg168"/> + <p> Then at last he found tongue to speak. <q>O gracious Queens, for such you are, forgive + my roving wits. You speak of great service done. But wise Zeus knoweth we are + strangers—</q> + </p> + <p> The golden goddess tossed her shining head and smiled,—still stroking with her hand. </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Glaucon, do you remember the Eastern lad you saved from the Spartans at the + Isthmus? Behold him! Recall the bracelet of turquoise,—my first gratitude. Then again + you saved me with my husband. For I am the woman you bore through the surf at the + island. I am Artazostra, wife of Mardonius, and this is Roxana, his half-sister, whose + mother was a princess in Egypt.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon passed his fingers before his face, beckoning back the past. </p> + <p> + <q>It is all far away and strange: the flight, the storm, the wreck, the tossing spar, + the battling through the surges. My head is weak. I cannot picture it all.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not try. Lie still. Grow strong and glad, and suffer us to teach you,</q> + commanded Artazostra. </p> + <p> + <q>Where do I lie? We are not upon the rocky islet still?</q> + </p> + <p> The ladies laughed, not mockingly but so sweetly he wished that they would never + cease. </p> + <p> + <q>This is Sardis,</q> spoke Roxana, bending over him; <q>you lie in the palace of the + satrap.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And Athens—</q> he said, wandering. </p> + <p> + <q>Is far away,</q> said Artazostra, <q>with all its griefs and false friends and foul + remembrances. The friends about you here will never fail. Therefore lie still and have + peace.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You know my story,</q> cried he, now truly in amaze. </p> + <p> + <q>Mardonius knows all that passes in Athens, in Sparta, in every city of Hellas. Do not + try to tell more. We weary you already. See—Amenhat comes to bid us begone.</q> + </p> + <pb n="169"/> + <anchor id="Pg169"/> + <p> The curtains parted again. A dark man in a pure white robe, his face and head + smooth-shaven, approached the bed. He held out a broad gold cup, the rim whereof glinted + with agate and sardonyx. He had no Greek, but Roxana took the cup from him and held it + to Glaucon’s lips. </p> + <p> + <q>Drink,</q> she commanded, and he was fain to obey. The Athenian felt the heavily + spiced liquor laying hold of him. His eyes closed, despite his wish to gaze longer on + the two beautiful women. He felt their hands caressing his cheeks. The music grew ever + softer. He thought he was sinking into a kind of euthanasy, that his life was drifting + out amid delightful dreams. But not cold Thanatos, but health-bearing Hypnos was the god + who visited him now. When next he woke, it was with a clearer vision, a sounder mind. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Sardis the Golden, once capital of the Lydian kings and now of the Persian satraps, + had recovered from the devastation by the Ionians in their ill-starred revolt seventeen + years preceding. The city spread in the fertile Sardiene, one of the garden plains of + Asia Minor. To the south the cloud-crowned heights of Tmolus ever were visible. To the + north flowed the noble stream of Hebrus, whilst high above the wealthy town, the busy + agora, the giant temple of Lydian Cybele, rose the citadel of Meles, the palace fortress + of the kings and the satraps. A frowning castle it was without, within not the + golden-tiled palaces of Ecbatana and Susa boasted greater magnificence and luxury than + this one-time dwelling of Crœsus. The ceilings of the wide banqueting halls rose on + pillars of emerald Egyptian malachite. The walls were cased with onyx. Winged bulls that + might have graced Nineveh guarded the portals. The lions upbearing the throne in the + hall of audience were of gold. The mirrors in the <q>House of the Women</q> were not + steel but silver. <pb n="170"/><anchor id="Pg170"/>The gorgeous carpets were sprinkled + with rose water. An army of dark Syrian eunuchs and yellow-faced Tartar girls ran at the + beck of the palace guests. Only the stealthy entrance of Sickness and Death told the + dwellers here they were not yet gods. </p> + <p> Artaphernes, satrap of Lydia, had his divan, his viziers, and his audiences,—a court + worthy of a king,—but the real lord of Western Asia was the prince who was nominally + his guest. Mardonius had his own retinue and wing of the palace. On him fell the + enormous task of organizing the masses of troops already pouring into Sardis, and he + discharged his duty unwearyingly. The completion of the bridges of boats across the + Hellespont, the assembling of the fleet, the collecting of provisions, fell to his + province. Daily a courier pricked into Sardis with despatches from the Great King to his + trusted general. Mardonius left the great levees and public spectacles to Artaphernes, + but his hand was everywhere. His decisions were prompt. He was in constant communication + with the Medizing party in Hellas. He had no time for the long dicing and drinking bouts + the Persians loved, but he never failed to find each day an hour to spend with + Artazostra his wife, with Roxana his half-sister, and with Glaucon his preserver. </p> + <p> Slowly through the winter health had returned to the Athenian. For days he had lain + dreaming away the hours to the tune of the flutes and the fountains. When the warm + spring came, the eunuchs carried him in a sedan-chair through the palace garden, whence + he could look forth on the plain, the city, the snow-clad hills, and think he was on + Zeus’s Olympian throne, surveying all the earth. Then it was he learned the Persian + speech, and easily, for were not his teachers Artazostra and Roxana? He found it no + difficult tongue, simple and much akin to Greek, and unlike most <pb n="171"/><anchor id="Pg171"/>of the uncouth tongues the Oriental traders chattered in Sardis. The two + women were constantly with him. Few men were admitted to a Persian harem, but Mardonius + never grudged the Greek the company of these twain. </p> + <p> + <q>Noble Athenian,</q> said the Prince, the first time he visited Glaucon’s bed, <q>you + are my brother. My house is yours. My friends are yours. Command us all.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Every day Glaucon was stronger. He tested himself with dumb-bells. Always he could + lift a heavier weight. When the summer was at hand, he could ride out with Mardonius to + the <q>Paradise,</q> the satrap’s hunting park, and be in at the death of the deer. Yet + he was no more the <q>Fortunate Youth</q> of Athens. Only imperfectly he himself knew + how complete was the severance from his old life. The terrible hour at Colonus had made + a mark on his spirit which not all Zeus’s power could take away. No doubt all the + one-time friends believed him dead. Had Hermione’s confidence in him remained true? + Would she not say <q>guilty</q> at last with all the rest? Mardonius might have + answered, he had constant letters from Greece, but the Prince was dumb when Glaucon + strove to ask of things beyond the Ægean. </p> + <p> Day by day the subtle influence of the Orient—the lotus-eating,—<q>tasting the + honey-sweet fruit which makes men choose to abide forever, forgetful of the homeward + way</q>—spread its unseen power over the Alcmæonid. Athens, the old pain, even the + face of Hermione, would rise before him only dimly. He fought against this enchantment. + But it was easier to renew his vow to return to Athens, after wiping out his shame, than + to break these bands daily tightening. </p> + <p> He heard little Greek, now that he was learning Persian. Even he himself was changed. + His hair and beard grew long, after the Persian manner. He wore the loose Median <pb n="172"/><anchor id="Pg172"/>cloak, the tall felt cap of a Persian noble. The + elaborate genuflexions of the Asiatics no longer astonished him. He learned to admire + the valiant, magnanimous lords of the Persians. And Xerxes, the distant king, the + wielder of all this power, was he not truly a god on earth, <sic>vicegerent</sic> of + Lord Zeus himself? </p> + <p> + <q>Forget you are a Hellene. We will talk of the Nile, not of the Cephissus,</q> + Artazostra said, whenever he spoke of home. Then she would tell of Babylon and + Persepolis, and Mardonius of forays beside the wide Caspian, and Roxana of her girlhood, + while Gobryas was satrap of Egypt, spent beside the magic river, of the Pharaohs, the + great pyramid, of Isis and Osiris and the world beyond the dead. Before the Athenian was + opened the golden East, its glitter, its wonderment, its fascination. He even was silent + when his hosts talked boldly of the coming war, how soon the Persian power would rule + from the Pillars of Heracles to Ind. </p> + <p> Yet once he stood at bay, showing that he was a Hellene still. They were in the + garden. Mardonius had come to them where under the pomegranate tree the women spread + their green tapestry which their nimble needles covered with a battle scene in scarlet. + The Prince told of the capture and crucifixion of the chiefs of a futile revolt in + Armenia. Then Artazostra clapped her hands to cry. </p> + <p> + <q>Fools! Fools whom Angra-Mainyu the Evil smites blind that he may destroy them!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon, sitting at her feet, looked up quickly. <q>Valiant fools, lady; every man + must strike for his own country.</q> + </p> + <p> Artazostra shook her shining head. </p> + <p> + <q>Mazda gives victory to the king of Eran alone. Resisting Xerxes is not rebellion + against man, it is rebellion against Heaven.</q> + </p> + <pb n="173"/> + <anchor id="Pg173"/> + <p> + <q>Are you sure?</q> asked the Athenian, his eye lighting ominously. <q>Are yours the + greatest gods?</q> + </p> + <p> But Roxana in turn cast down the tapestry and opened her arms with a charming gesture. </p> + <p> + <q>Be not angry, Glaucon, for will you not become one with us? I dare to prophesy like a + seer from old Chaldea. Assur of Nineveh, Marduk of Babylon, Baal of Tyre, Ammon of + Memphis—all have bent the knee to Mazda the Glorious, to Mithra the Fiend-Smiting, + and shall the weak <hi rend="italic">dævas</hi>, the puny gods of Greece, save their + land, when greater than they bow down in sore defeat?</q> + </p> + <p> Yet Glaucon still looked on her boldly. </p> + <p> + <q>You have your mighty gods, but we have ours. Pray to your Mazda and Mithra, but we + will still trust Zeus of the Thunders and Athena of the Gray Eyes, the bulwarks of our + fathers. And Fate must answer which can help the best.</q> + </p> + <p> The Persians shook their heads. It was time to return to the palace. All that Glaucon + had seen of the Barbarian’s might, since awakening in Sardis, told him Xerxes was indeed + destined to go forth conquering and to conquer. Then the vision of the Acropolis, the + temples, the Guardian Goddess, returned. He banished all disloyal thoughts for the + instant. The Prince walked with his wife, Glaucon with Roxana. He had always thought her + <anchor id="corr173"/><corr sic="beautiful">beautiful;</corr> she had never seemed so beautiful as now. Did he imagine whither Mardonius + perhaps was leading him? </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="16" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="174"/> + <anchor id="Pg174"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XVI</head> + <head type="sub"> THE COMING OF XERXES THE GOD-KING </head> + <p> At last the lotus-eating ended. Repeated messengers told how Xerxes was quitting + Babylon, was holding a muster in Cappadocia, and now was crossing Asia Minor toward + Sardis. Mardonius and his companions had returned to that capital. Daily the soldiery + poured into Sardis by tens of thousands. Glaucon knew now it was not a vain boast that + for ten years the East had been arming against Hellas, that the whole power of the + twenty satrapies would be flung as one thunderbolt upon devoted Greece. </p> + <p> In the plain about Sardis a second city was rising, of wicker booths and gay + pavilions. The host grew hourly. Now a band of ebony archers in leopard skins entered + from far Ethiopia, now Bactrian battle-axemen, now yellow-faced Tartars from the + northeast, now bright-turbaned Arabs upon their swaying camels,—Syrians, Cilicians, + black-bearded Assyrians and Babylonians, thick-lipped Egyptians, came, and many a + strange race more. </p> + <p> But the core of the army were the serried files of Aryan horse and + foot,—blond-headed, blue-eyed men, Persians and Medes, veterans of twenty victories. + Their muscles were tempered steel. Their unwearying feet had tramped many a long + parasang. Some were light infantry with wicker shields and powerful bows, but as many + more horsemen in gold-scaled armour and with desert steeds that flew like Pegasus. </p> + <pb n="175"/> + <anchor id="Pg175"/> + <p> + <q>The finest cavalry in the world!</q> Mardonius vaunted, and his guest durst not + answer nay. </p> + <p> Satrap after satrap came. When at last a foaming Arab galloping to the castle + proclaimed, <q>Next morn the Lord of the World will enter Sardis,</q> Glaucon could + scarce have looked for a greater, though he had expected Cronian Zeus himself. </p> + <p> Mardonius, as <q>bow-bearer to the king,</q> a semi-regal office, rode forth a stage + to meet the sovran. The streets of Sardis were festooned with flowers. Thousands of + spearmen held back the crowds. The Athenian stood beside Roxana and Artazostra at the + upper window of a Lydian merchant prince, and his eyes missed nothing. </p> + <p> Never had the two women seemed lovelier than when their hearts ran out to their + approaching king. He felt now the power of personal sovranty, how these children of the + East awaited not Xerxes the Master, but Xerxes the Omnipotent, God-Manifest, whose + decrees were as the decrees of Heaven. And their awe could not fail to awe the Athenian. </p> + <p> At noon the multitude caught the first token of the king. Down the road, through the + gate, walked a man, bare-headed, bare-footed, alone,—Artaphernes, despot of all Lydia, + going to pay his abject homage. Presently the eunuch priests of Cybele, perched above + the gate, clashed their cymbals and raised their hymn of welcome. To the boom of drums + the thousand chosen cavalry and as many picked footmen of the Life Guard entered, tall, + magnificent soldiers,—caps and spear butts shining with gold. After these a gilded car + drawn by the eight sacred horses, each milk-white, and on the car an altar bearing the + eternal fire of Mazda. Then, each in his flashing chariot, moved the <q>Six Princes,</q> + the heads of the great clans of the Achæmenians, then two hundred led desert horses, in + splendid trappings, and then—after <pb n="176"/><anchor id="Pg176"/>a long interval, + that the host might cast no dust upon its lord, rode a single horseman on a jet-black + steed, Artabanus—the king’s uncle and vizier. He beckoned to the people. </p> + <p> + <q>Have fear, Lydians, the giver of breath to all the world comes now beneath your + gates!</q> + </p> + <p> The lines of soldiers flung down their spears and dropped upon their knees. The + multitude imitated. A chariot came running behind four of the sacred steeds of + Nisæa,—their coats were like new snow, their manes braided with gold thread, bridle, + bits, pole, baseboard, shone with gems and the royal metal. The wheel was like the sun. + A girl-like youth guided the crimson reins, a second held the tall green parasol. Its + shadow did not hide the commanding figure upon the car. Glaucon looked hard. No + mistaking—Xerxes was here, the being who could say to millions <q>Die!</q> and they + perished like worms; in verity <q>God-Manifest.</q> + </p> + <p> For in looks Xerxes, son of Darius, was surely the Great King. A figure of august + height was set off nobly by the flowing purple caftan and the purple cap which crowned + the curling black hair. The riches of satrapies were in the rubies and topazes on sword + sheath and baldric. The head was raised. The face was not regular, but of a proud, + aquiline beauty. The skin was olive, the eyes dark, a little pensive. If there were weak + lines about the mouth, the curling beard covered them. The king looked straight on, + unmoved by the kneeling thousands, but as he came abreast of the balcony, chance made + him look upward. Perhaps the sight of the beautiful Greek caused Xerxes to smile + winsomely. The smile of a god can intoxicate. Caught away from himself, Glaucon the + Alcmæonid joined in the great salvo of cheering. </p> + <p> + <q>Victory to Xerxes! Let the king of kings reign forever!</q><anchor id="corr176"/><corr sic="single quote"/> + </p> + <p> The chariot was gone almost instantly, a vast retinue—<pb n="177"/><anchor id="Pg177"/>cooks, eunuchs, grooms, hunters, and many closed litters bearing the royal + concubines—followed, but all these passed before Glaucon shook off the spell the sight + of royalty cast on him. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> That night in the palace Xerxes gave a feast in honour of the new campaign. The + splendours of a royal banquet in the East need no retelling. Silver lamps, carpets of + Kerman rugs or of the petals of fresh roses, a thousand lutes and dulcimers, precious + Helbon wine flowing like water, cups of Phœnician crystal, tables groaning with wild + boars roasted whole, dancing women none too modest,—these were but the incidentals of a + gorgeous confusion. To Glaucon, with the chaste loveliness of the Panathenæa before his + mind, the scene was one of vast wonderment but scarcely of pleasure. The Persian did + nothing by halves. In battle a hero, at his cups he became a satyr. Many of the scenes + before the guests emptied the last of the tall silver tankards were indescribable. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> On the high dais above the roaring hall sat Xerxes the king,—adored, envied, + pitiable. </p> + <p> When Spitames, the seneschal, brought him the cup, the bearer bowed his face, not + daring to look on his dread lord’s eyes. </p> + <p> When Artabanus, the vizier, approached with a message, he first kissed the carpet + below the dais. </p> + <p> When Hydarnes, commander of the Life Guard, drew near to receive the watchword for the + night, he held his mantle before his mouth, lest his breath pollute the world monarch. </p> + <p> Yet of all forms of seeming prosperity wherewith Fate can curse a man, the worst was + the curse of Xerxes. To be called <q>god</q> when one is finite and mortal; to have no + friends, but <pb n="178"/><anchor id="Pg178"/>only a hundred million slaves; to be + denied the joys of honest wish and desire because there were none left unsatisfied; to + have one’s hastiest word proclaimed as an edict of deity; never to be suffered to + confess a mistake, cost what the blunder might, that the <q>king of kings</q> might seem + lifted above all human error; in short, to be the bondsman of one’s own + deification,—this was the hard captivity of the lord of the twenty satrapies. </p> + <p> For Xerxes the king was a man,—of average instincts, capacities, goodness, + wickedness. A god or a genius could have risen above his fearful isolation. Xerxes was + neither. The iron ceremonial of the Persian court left him of genuine pleasures almost + none. Something novel, a rare sensation, an opportunity to vary the dreary monotony of + splendour by an astounding act of generosity or an act of frightful cruelty,—it + mattered little which,—was snatched at by the king with childlike eagerness. And this + night Xerxes was in an unwontedly gracious mood. At his elbow, as he sat on the throne + cased with lapis lazuli and onyx, waited the one man who came nearest to being a friend + and not a slave,—Mardonius, son of Gobryas, the bow-bearer,—and therefore more + entitled than any other prince of the Persians to stand on terms of intimacy with his + lord. </p> + <p> While Spitames passed the wine, the king hearkened with condescending and approving + nod to the report of the Prince as to his mad adventure in Hellas. Xerxes even reproved + his brother-in-law mildly for hazarding his own life and that of his wife among those + stiff-necked tribesmen who were so soon to taste the Aryan might. </p> + <p> + <q>It was in your service, Omnipotence,</q> the Prince was rejoining blandly; <q>what if + not I alone, but a thousand others of the noblest of the Persians and the Medes may + perish, if only the glory of their king is advanced?</q> + </p> + <pb n="179"/> + <anchor id="Pg179"/> + <p> + <q>Nobly said; you are a faithful slave, Mardonius. I will remember you when I have + burned Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> He even reached forth and stroked the bow-bearer’s hand, a condescension which made + the footstool-bearer, parasol-bearer, quiver-bearer, and a dozen great lords more gnaw + their lips with envy. Hydarnes, the commander who had waited an auspicious moment, now + thought it safe to kneel on the lowest step of the throne. </p> + <p> + <q>Omnipotence, I am constrained to tell you that certain miserable Hellenes have been + seized in the camp to-night—spies sent to pry out your power. Do you deign to have + them impaled, crucified, or cast into the adders’ cage?</q> + </p> + <p> The king smiled magnanimously. </p> + <p> + <q>They shall not die. Show them the host, and all my power. Then send them home to + their fellow-rebels to tell the madness of dreaming to withstand my might.</q> + </p> + <p> The smile of Xerxes had spread, like the ripple from a pebble splashing in a pool, + over the face of every nobleman in hearing. Now their praises came as a chant. </p> + <p> + <q>O Ocean of Clemency and Wisdom! Happy Eran in thy sagacious yet merciful king!</q> + </p> + <p> Xerxes, not heeding, turned to Mardonius. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! yes,—you were telling how you corrupted one of the chief Athenians, then had to + flee. On the voyage you were shipwrecked?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>So I wrote to Babylon, to your Eternity.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And a certain Athenian fugitive saved your lives? And you brought him to Sardis?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I did so, Omnipotence.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course he is at the banquet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The king speaks by the promptings of Mazda. I placed him with certain friends and + bade them see he did not lack good cheer.</q> + </p> + <pb n="180"/> + <anchor id="Pg180"/> + <p> + <q>Send,—I would talk with him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Suffer me to warn your Majesty,</q> ventured Mardonius, <q>he is an Athenian and + glories in being of a stubborn, Persian-hating stock. I fear he will not perform due + obeisance to the Great King.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I can endure his rudeness,</q> spoke Xerxes, for once in excellent humour; <q>let the + <q>supreme usher</q> bring him with full speed.</q> + </p> + <p> The functionary thus commanded bowed himself to the ground and hastened on his errand. </p> + <p> But well that Mardonius had deprecated the wrath of the monarch. Glaucon came with his + head high, his manner almost arrogant. The mere fact that his boldness might cost him + his life made him less bending than ever. He trod firmly upon the particular square of + golden carpet at the foot of the dais which none, saving the king, the vizier, and the + <q>Six Princes,</q> could lawfully tread. He held his hands at his sides, firmly + refusing to conceal them in his cloak, as court etiquette demanded. As he stood on the + steps of the throne, he gave the glittering monarch the same familiar bow he might have + awarded a friend he met in the Agora. Mardonius was troubled. The supreme usher was + horrified. The master-of-punishments, ever near his chief, gazed eagerly to see if + Xerxes would not touch the audacious Hellene’s girdle—a sign for prompt decapitation. + Only the good nature of the king prevented a catastrophe, and Xerxes was moved by two + motives, pleasure at meeting a fellow-mortal who could look him in the eye without + servility or fear, delight at the beautiful features and figure of the Athenian. For an + instant monarch and fugitive looked face to face, then Xerxes stretched out, not his + hand, but the gold tip of his ivory baton. Glaucon had wisdom enough to touch it,—a + token that he was admitted to audience with the king. </p> + <pb n="181"/> + <anchor id="Pg181"/> + <p> + <q>You are from Athens, beautiful Hellene,</q> spoke Xerxes, still admiring the + stranger. <q>I will question you. Let Mardonius interpret.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have learned Persian, great sir,</q> interposed Glaucon, never waiting for the + bow-bearer. </p> + <p> + <q>You have done well,</q> rejoined the smiling monarch; <q>yet better had you learned + our Aryan manners of courtliness. No matter—you will learn them likewise in good + time. Now tell me your name and parentage.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am Glaucon, son of Conon, of the house of the Alcmæonidæ.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Great nobles, Omnipotence,</q> interposed Mardonius, <q>so far as nobility can be + reckoned among the Greeks.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have yet to learn their genealogies,</q> remarked Xerxes, dryly; then he turned + back to Glaucon. <q>And do your parents yet live, and have you any brethren?</q> The + question was a natural one for an Oriental. Glaucon’s answer came with increased pride. </p> + <p> + <q>I am a child of my parent’s old age. My mother is dead. My father is feeble. I have + no brethren. Two older brothers I had. One fell here at Sardis, when we Athenians + sacked the city. One fell victorious at Marathon, while he burned a Persian ship. + Therefore I am not ashamed of their fates.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your tongue is bold, Hellene,</q> said the good-natured king; <q>you are but a lame + courtier. No matter. Tell me, nevertheless, why you churlishly refuse to do me + reverence. Do you set yourself above all these princes of the Persians who bow before + me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not so, great sir. But I was born at Athens, not at Susa. We Hellenes pray standing + even to Zeus, stretching forth our hands and looking upward. Can I honour the lord of + all the satrapies above the highest god?</q> + </p> + <pb n="182"/> + <anchor id="Pg182"/> + <p> + <q>A nimble tongue you have, Athenian, though an unbending neck.</q> Xerxes sat and + stroked his beard, pleased at the frank reply. <q>Mardonius has told how you saved his + and my sister’s lives, and that you are an outlaw from Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The last is all too true, great sir.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Which means you will not pray your gods too hard for my defeat? ha?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon blushed, then looked up boldly. </p> + <p> + <q>A Persian king, I know, loves truth-telling. I still love and pray for Athens, even + if unknown enemies conspired against me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Humph! You can learn our other virtues later. Are you blind to my power? If so, I + pity more than I blame you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The king is kind,</q> returned Glaucon, putting by a part of his hauteur. <q>I would + not anger him. I only know he would rather have men say, <q>Xerxes conquered a proud + nation, hard to subdue,</q> than, <q>He conquered a feeble race of whining + slaves.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Excellent! In all save your vain confidence of victory, you seem wise beyond your + youth. You are handsome. You are noble—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Very noble,</q> interposed Mardonius. </p> + <p> + <q>And you saved the lives of Mardonius and Artazostra. Did you know their nobility when + you rescued them?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not so. I would not let them drown like sheep.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The better, then. You acted without low motive of reward. Yet let the day never come + when Xerxes is called <q>ungrateful</q> for benefits done his servants. You shall come + to love me by beholding my magnanimity. I will make you a Persian, despite your will. + Have you seen battle?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I was too young to bear a spear at Marathon,</q> was the unflinching answer. </p> + <pb n="183"/> + <anchor id="Pg183"/> + <p> + <q>Learn then to wield it in another army. Where is the archsecretary?</q> + </p> + <p> That functionary was present instantly. Mardonius, taking the whispers of the king, + dictated an order which the scribe stamped on his tablet of wet clay with a rapid + stylus. </p> + <p> + <q>Now the chief proclaimer,</q> was the king’s order, which brought a tall man in a + bright scarlet caftan salaaming to the dais. </p> + <p> He took the tablet from the secretary and gave a resounding blow upon the brass gong + dangling from his elbow. The clatter of wine cups ceased. The drinkers were silent on + pain of death. The herald sent his proclamation in stentorian voice down the hall:— </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q rend="post: none"><hi rend="italic">In the name of Xerxes the Achæmenian, king + of kings, king of Persia, Media, Babylon, and Lydia; smiter of the Scythians, + dominator of the Indians, terror of the Hellenes; to all peoples of the world his + slaves,—hear ye!</hi></q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Says Xerxes the king, whose word changes not. Forasmuch as Glaucon the Athenian did + save from death my servant and my sister, Mardonius and Artazostra, I do enroll him + among the <q>Benefactors of the King,</q> a sharer of my bounty forever. Let his name + henceforth be not Glaucon, but Prexaspes. Let my purple cap be touched upon his head. + Let him be given the robe of honour and the girdle of honour. Let the treasurer pay + him a talent of gold. Let my servants honour him. Let those who mock at him be + impaled. And this I proclaim as my decree.</q> </p> + <p> What followed Glaucon was too bewildered to recall clearly. He knew that the + archchamberlain lifted the great jewel-crusted hat from the king’s head and set it on + his own for an instant, that they brought him a flowing purple robe, and clasped about + his waist a golden belt, every link set with a stone of price. The hall arose <hi rend="italic">en masse</hi> to drink to the man whom the sovran delighted to honour. </p> + <pb n="184"/> + <anchor id="Pg184"/> + <p> + <q>Hail! Thrice hail to the Lord Prexaspes! Justly rewarded by our gracious king!</q> + </p> + <p> No man refused his plaudit, and Glaucon never knew how many envious courtiers cheered + with their lips and in their hearts muttered dark things against <q>the manner in which + his Majesty loved to play the god and promote this unknown Hellene above the heads of + so many faithful subjects.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon had made shift to speak some words of deprecation and gratitude to royalty; + his bow was deeper when the supreme usher led him away from the throne than when he + approached it. As he made his way out of the banqueting hall, a score of noblemen, + captains of thousands, over-eunuchs, and more trailed at his heels, salaaming, fawning, + congratulating, offering all manner of service. Not on the days following his victory at + the Isthmia had his head been in such a whirl. He hardly heard the well-meant warning + which Artabanus, the shrewd old vizier, gave as he passed the door of the great hall. </p> + <p> + <q>Play the game well, my new Lord Prexaspes. The king can make you satrap or he can + crucify you. Play the game well, the stakes are high.</q> + </p> + <p> Neither did he hear the conversation betwixt Xerxes and the bow-bearer whilst he was + being conducted away. </p> + <p> + <q>Have I done well to honour this man, Mardonius?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your Eternity was never more wise. Bear with his uncourtliness now, for he is + truthful, upright, and noble in soul—qualities rare in a Hellene. Give me but time. I + will make him a worthy Persian indeed.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not fail therein,</q> ordered the monarch, <q>for the youth has such beauty, both + of body and mind, I am grieved he was born in Athens. Yet there is one short way to + wean him from his doomed and miserable country.</q> + </p> + <pb n="185"/> + <anchor id="Pg185"/> + <p> + <q>Will Omnipotence but name it?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Search out for him a Persian wife, no, three or four wives—although I have heard the + custom of these witless Greeks is to be content with only one. There is no surer way + to turn his heart than that.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I thank your Eternity for your commandment. It shall not be forgotten.</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius bowed himself. Xerxes called for more wine. The feast lasted late and ended + in an orgy. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="17" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="186"/> + <anchor id="Pg186"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XVII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE CHARMING BY ROXANA </head> + <p> Glaucon’s longing for the old life ebbed and flowed. Sometimes the return of memory + maddened him. Who had done it?—had forged that damning letter and then hid it with + Seuthes? Themistocles? Impossible. Democrates?—<q>the friend with the understanding + heart no less than a brother dear,</q> as Homer said? More impossible. An unknown + enemy, then, had stolen the fleet order from Themistocles? But what man had hated + Glaucon? One answer remained,—unwittingly the athlete had offended some god, forgotten + some vow, or by sheer good fortune had awakened divine jealousy. Poseidon had been + implacable toward Odysseus, Athena toward Hector, Artemis toward Niobe,—Glaucon could + only pray that his present welcome amongst the Persians might not draw down another + outburst of Heaven’s anger. </p> + <p> More than all else was the keen longing for Hermione. He saw her in the night. Vainly, + amidst the storms of the gathering war, he had sought a messenger to Athens. In this he + dared ask no help from Mardonius. Then almost from the blue a bolt fell that made him + wish to tear Hermione from his heart. </p> + <p> A Carian slave, a trusted steward at the Athenian silver mines of Laurium, had loved + his liberty and escaped to Sardis. The Persians questioned him eagerly, for he knew all + the <pb n="187"/><anchor id="Pg187"/>gossip of Athens. Glaucon met the runaway, who did + not know then who he was, so many Greek refugees were always fluttering around the + king’s court. The Carian told of a new honour for Democrates. </p> + <p> + <q>He is elected strategus for next year because of his proud patriotism. There is talk, + too, of a more private bit of good fortune.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What is it?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That he has made successful suit to Hermippus of Eleusis for his daughter,—the widow + of Glaucon, the dead outlaw. They say the marriage follows at the end of the year of + mourning—Sir, you are not well!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I was never better.</q> But the other had turned ashen. He quitted the Carian + abruptly and shut himself in his chamber. It was good that he wore no sword. He might + have slain himself. </p> + <p> Yet, he communed in his heart, was it not best? Was he not dead to Athens? Must + Hermione mourn him down to old age? And whom better could she take than Democrates, the + man who had sacrificed even friendship for love of country? </p> + <p> Artabanus, the vizier, gave a great feast that night. They drank the pledge, <q>Victory to the king, destruction to his enemies.</q> The lords all looked on Glaucon + to see if he would touch the cup. He drank deeply. They applauded him. He remained long + at the wine, the slaves bore him home drunken. In the morning Mardonius said Xerxes + ordered him to serve in the cavalry guards, a post full of honour and chance for + promotion. Glaucon did not resist. Mardonius sent him a silvered cuirass and a black + horse from the steppes of Bactria,—fleet as the north wind. In his new armour he went + to the chambers of Artazostra and Roxana. They had never seen him in panoply before. The + <pb n="188"/><anchor id="Pg188"/>brilliant mail became him rarely. The ladies were + delighted. </p> + <p> + <q>You grow Persian apace, my Lord Prexaspes,</q>—Roxana always called him by his new + name now,—<q>soon we shall hail you as <q>your Magnificence</q> the satrap of Parthia + or Asia or some other kingly province in the East.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do well to become Persian,</q> he answered bitterly, unmoved by the admiration, <q>for yesterday I heard that which makes it more than ever manifest that Glaucon the + Athenian is dead. And whether he shall ever rise to live again, Zeus knoweth; but from + me it is hid.</q> + </p> + <p> Artazostra did not approach, but Roxana came near, as if to draw the buckle of the + golden girdle—the gift of Xerxes. He saw the turquoise shining on the tiara that bound + her jet-black hair, the fine dark profile of her face, her delicate nostrils, the sweep + of drapery that half revealed the form so full of grace. Was there more than passing + friendship in the tone with which she spoke to him? </p> + <p> + <q>You have heard from Athens?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And the tidings were evil.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why call them evil, princess? My friends all believe me dead. Can they mourn for me + forever? They can forget me, alas! more easily than I in my lonesomeness can forget + them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You are very lonely?</q>—the hand that drew the buckle worked slowly. How soft it + was, how delicately the Nile sun had tinted it! </p> + <p> + <q>Do you say you have no friends? None? Not in Sardis? Not among the Persians?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I said not that, dear lady,—but when can a man have more than one native + country?—and mine is Attica, and Attica is far away.</q> + </p> + <pb n="189"/> + <anchor id="Pg189"/> + <p> + <q>And you can never have another? Can new friendships never take the place of those + that lie forever dead?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not know.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, believe, new home, new friends, new love, are more than possible, will you but + open your heart to suffer them.</q> + </p> + <p> The voice both thrilled and trembled now, then suddenly ceased. The colour sprang into + Roxana’s forehead. Glaucon bowed and kissed her hand. It seemed to rise to his lips very + willingly. </p> + <p> + <q>I thank you for your fair hopes. Farewell.</q> That was all he said, but as he went + forth from Roxana’s presence, the pang of the tidings brought by the Carian seemed less + keen. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The hosts gathered daily. Xerxes spent his time in dicing, hunting, drinking, or + amusing himself with his favourite by-play, wood-carving. He held a few solemn state + councils, at which he appeared to determine all things and was actually guided by + Artabanus and Mardonius. Now, at last, all the colossal machinery which was to crush + down Hellas was being set in motion. Glaucon learned how futile was Themistocles’s hope + of succour to Athens from the Sicilian Greeks, for,—thanks to Mardonius’s indefatigable + diplomacy,—it was arranged that the Phœnicians of Carthage should launch a powerful + armament against the Sicilians, the same moment Xerxes descended on Sparta and Athens. + With calm satisfaction Mardonius watched the completion of his efforts. All was + ready,—the army of hundreds of thousands, the twelve hundred war-ships, the bridges + across the Hellespont, the canal at Mt. Athos. Glaucon’s admiration for the son of + Gobryas grew apace. Xerxes was the outward head of the attack on Hellas. Mardonius was + the soul. <pb n="190"/><anchor id="Pg190"/>He was the idol of the army—its best archer + and rider. Unlike his peers, he maintained no huge harem of jealous concubines and + conspiring eunuchs. Artazostra he worshipped. Roxana he loved. He had no time for other + women. No servant of Xerxes seemed outwardly more obedient than he. Night and day he + wrought for the glory of Persia. Therefore, Glaucon looked on him with dread. In him + Themistocles and Leonidas would find a worthy foeman. </p> + <p> Daily Glaucon felt the Persian influence stealing upon him. He grew even accustomed to + think of himself under his new name. Greeks were about him: Demaratus, the outlawed <q>half-king</q> of Sparta, and the sons of Hippias, late tyrant of Athens. He scorned + the company of these renegades. Yet sometimes he would ask himself wherein was he better + than they,—had Democrates’s accusation been true, could he have asked a greater reward + from the Barbarian? And what he would do on the day of battle he did not dare to ask of + his own soul. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Xerxes left Sardis with the host amidst the same splendour with which he had entered. + Glaucon rode in the Life Guard, and saw royalty frequently, for the king loved to meet + handsome men. Once he held the stirrup as Xerxes dismounted—an honour which provoked + much envious grumbling. Artazostra and Roxana travelled in their closed litters with the + train of women and eunuchs which followed every Persian army. Thus the myriads rolled + onward through Lydia and Mysia, drinking the rivers dry by their numbers; and across the + immortal plains of Troy passed that army which was destined to do and suffer greater + things than were wrought beside the poet-sung Simois and Scamander, till at last they + came to the Hellespont, the green <pb n="191"/><anchor id="Pg191"/>river seven furlongs + wide, that sundered conquered Asia from the Europe yet to be conquered. </p> + <p> Here were the two bridges of ships, more than three hundred in each, held by giant + cables, and which upbore a firm earthen road, protected by a high bulwark, that the + horses and camels might take no fright at the water. Here, also, the fleet met + them,—the armaments of the East, Phœnicians, Cilicians, Egyptians, Cyprians,—more + triremes and transports than had ever before ridden upon the seas. And as he saw all + this power, all directed by one will, Glaucon grew even more despondent. How could puny, + faction-rent Hellas bear up against this might? Only when he looked on the myriads + passing, and saw how the captains swung long whips and cracked the lash across the backs + of their spearmen, as over driven cattle, did a little comfort come. For he knew there + was still a fire in Athens and Sparta, a fire not in Susa nor in Babylon, which kindled + free souls and free hands to dare and do great things. <q>Whom will the high Zeus + prosper when the <hi rend="italic">slaves</hi> of Xerxes stand face to face with <hi rend="italic">men</hi>?</q> + </p> + <p> A proud thought,—but it ceased to comfort him, as all that afternoon he stood near + the marble throne of the <q>Lord of the World,</q> whence Xerxes overlooked his myriads + while they filed by, watched the races of swift triremes, and heard the proud assurances + of his officers that <q>no king since the beginning of time, not Thothmes of Egypt, not + Sennacherib of Assyria, not Cyrus nor Darius, had arrayed such hosts as his that + day.</q> + </p> + <p> Then evening came. Glaucon was, after his wont, in the private pavilion of + Mardonius,—itself a palace walled with crimson tapestry in lieu of marble. He sat + silent and moody for long, the bright fence of the ladies or of the bow-bearer seldom + moving him to answer. And at last Artazostra could endure it no more. </p> + <pb n="192"/> + <anchor id="Pg192"/> + <p> + <q>What has tied your tongue, Prexaspes? Surely my brother in one of his pleasantries + has not ordered that it be cut out? Your skin is too fair to let you be enrolled + amongst his Libyan mutes.</q> + </p> + <p> The Hellene answered with a pitiful attempt at laughter. </p> + <p> + <q>Silent, am I? Then silent because I am admiring your noble ladyship’s play of + wit.</q> + </p> + <p> Artazostra shook her head. </p> + <p> + <q>Impossible. Your eyes were glazed like the blue of Egyptian beads. You were not + listening to me. You were seeing sights and hearkening to voices far away.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You press me hard, lady,</q> he confessed; <q>how can I answer? No man is master of + his roving thoughts,—at least, not I.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You were seeing Athens. Are you so enamoured of your stony country that you believe + no other land can be so fair?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Stony it is, lady,—you have seen it,—but there is no sun like the sun that gilds + the Acropolis; no birds sing like the nightingales from the grove by the Cephissus; no + trees speak with the murmur of the olives at Colonus, or on the hill slope at + Eleusis-by-the-Sea. I can answer you in the words of Homer, the singer of Hellas, the + words he sets on the tongue of a wanderer and outcast, even as I. <q>A rugged land, + yet nurse of noble men, and for myself I can see naught sweeter than a man’s own + country.</q></q> + </p> + <p> The praise of his native land had brought the colour into the cheeks of the Athenian, + his voice rose to enthusiasm. He knew that Roxana was watching him intently. </p> + <p> + <q>Beautiful it must be, dear Hellene,</q> she spoke, as she sat upon the footstool + below the couch of her brother, <q>yet you have not seen all the world. You have not + seen the mystic Nile, Memphis, Thebes, and Saïs, our wondrous cities; have not seen + how the sun rises over the desert, how it turns the <pb n="193"/><anchor id="Pg193"/>sand hills to red gold, how at sunset the cliffs glow like walls of beryl and sard + and golden jasper.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Tell then of Egypt,</q> said Glaucon, clearly taking pleasure in the music of her + voice. </p> + <p> + <q>Not to-night. I have praised it before. Rather I will praise also the rose valleys of + Persia and Bactria, whither Mardonius took me after my dear father died.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Are they very beautiful also?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Beautiful as the Egyptian’s House of the Blessed, for those who have passed the dread + bar of Osiris; beautiful as Airyana-Væya, the home land of the Aryans, whence + Ahura-Mazda sent them forth. The winters are short, the summers bright and long. + Neither too much rain nor burning heat. The Paradise by Sardis is nothing beside them. + One breathes in the roses, and hearkens to the bulbuls—our Aryan nightingales—all + day and all night long. The streams bubble with cool water. At Susa the palace is + fairer than word may tell. Hither the court comes each summer from the tedious glories + of Babylon. The columns of the palace reach up to heaven, but no walls engirdle them, + only curtains green, white, and blue,—whilst the warm sweet breeze blows always + thither from green prairies.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You draw a picture fair as the plains of Elysium, dear lady,</q> spoke Glaucon, his + own gaze following the light that burned in hers, <q>and yet I would not seek refuge + even in the king’s court with all its beauty. There are times when I long to pray the + god, <q>Give to me wings, eagle wings from Zeus’s own bird, and let me go to the ends + of the earth, and there in some charmed valley I may find at last the spring of + Lethe water, the water of forgetfulness that gives peace.</q></q> + </p> + <p> Roxana looked on him; pity was in her eyes, and he knew he was taking pleasure in her + pitying. </p> + <p> + <q>The magic water you ask is not to be drunk from goblets,</q> + <pb n="194"/><anchor id="Pg194"/>she answered him, <q>but the charmed valley lies in the + vales of Bactria, the <q>Roof of the World,</q> high amid mountains crowned with + immortal snows. Every good tree and flower are here, and here winds the mystic Oxus, + the great river sweeping northward. And here, if anywhere, on Mazda’s wide, green + earth, can the trouble-tossed have peace.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then it is so beautiful?</q> said the Athenian. </p> + <p> + <q>Beautiful,</q> answered Mardonius and Artazostra together. And Roxana, with an + approving nod from her brother, arose and crossed the tent where hung a simple harp. </p> + <p> + <q>Will my Lord Prexaspes listen,</q> she asked, <q>if I sing him one of the homely + songs of the Aryans in praise of the vales by the Oxus? My skill is small.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It should suffice to turn the heart of Persephone, even as did Orpheus,</q> answered + the Athenian, never taking his gaze from her. </p> + <p> The soft light of the swinging lamps, the heavy fragrance of the frankincense which + smouldered on the brazier, the dark lustre of the singer’s eyes—all held Glaucon as by + a spell. Roxana struck the harp. Her voice was sweet, and more than desire to please + throbbed through the strings and song. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">O far away is gliding</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">The pleasant Oxus’s stream,</l> + <l>I see the green glades darkling,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">I see the clear pools gleam.</l> + <l>I hear the bulbuls calling</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">From blooming tree to tree.</l> + <l>Wave, bird, and tree are singing,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">‘Away! ah, come with me!’</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">By Oxus’s stream is rising</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Great Cyrus’s marble halls;</l> + <l>Like rain of purest silver,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">His tinkling fountain falls;</l> + <l><pb n="195"/><anchor id="Pg195"/>To his cool verdant arbours</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">What joy with thee to flee.</l> + <l>I’ll join with bird and river,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">‘Away! rest there with me!’</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Forget, forget old sorrows,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Forget the dear things lost!</l> + <l>There comes new peace, new brightness,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">When darksome waves are crossed;</l> + <l>By Oxus’s streams abiding,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">From pang and strife set free,</l> + <l>I’ll teach thee love and gladness,—</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none">Rest there, for aye, with me!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> The light, the fragrance, the song so pregnant with meaning, all wrought upon Glaucon + of Athens. He felt the warm glow in his cheeks; he felt subtle hands outstretching as if + drawing forth his spirit. Roxana’s eyes were upon him as she ended. Their gaze met. She + was very fair, high-born, sensitive. She was inviting him to put away Glaucon the + outcast from Hellas, to become body and soul Prexaspes the Persian, <q>Benefactor of the + King,</q> and sharer in all the glories of the conquering race. All the past seemed + slipping away from him as unreal. Roxana stood before him in her dark Oriental beauty; + Hermione was in Athens—and they were giving her in marriage to Democrates. What wonder + he felt no mastery of himself, though all that day he had kept from wine? </p> + <p> + <q>A simple song,</q> spoke Mardonius, who seemed marvellously pleased at all his sister + did, <q>yet not lacking its sweetness. We Aryans are without the elaborate music the + Greeks and Babylonians affect.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Simplicity is the highest beauty,</q> answered the Greek, as if still in his trance, + <q>and when I hear Euphrosyne, fairest of the Graces, sing with the voice of Erato, + the Song-Queen, <pb n="196"/><anchor id="Pg196"/>I grow afraid. For a mortal may not + hear things too divine and live.</q> + </p> + <p> Roxana replaced the harp and made one of her inimitable Oriental courtesies,—a token + at once of gratitude and farewell for the evening. Glaucon never took his gaze from her, + until with a rustle and sweep of her blue gauze she had glided out of the tent. He did + not see the meaning glances exchanged by Mardonius and Artazostra before the latter left + them. </p> + <p> When the two men were alone, the bow-bearer asked a question. </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Prexaspes, do you not think I should bless the twelve archangels I possess so + beautiful a sister?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>She is so fair, I wonder that Zeus does not haste from Olympus to enthrone her in + place of Hera.</q> + </p> + <p> The bow-bearer laughed. </p> + <p> + <q>No, I crave for her only a mortal husband. Though there are few in Persia, in Media, + in the wide East, to whom I dare <anchor id="corr196"/><corr sic="intrust">entrust</corr> her. Perhaps,</q>—his laugh grew + lighter,—<q>I would do well to turn my eyes westward.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon did not see Roxana again the next day nor for several following, but in those + days he thought much less on Hermione and on Athens. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="18" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="197"/> + <anchor id="Pg197"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XVIII</head> + <head type="sub"> DEMOCRATES’S TROUBLES RETURN </head> + <p> All through that year to its close and again to the verge of springtime the sun made + violet haze upon the hills and pure fire of the bay at Eleusis-by-the-Sea. Night by + night the bird song would be stilled in the old olives along the dark waters. There + Hermione would sit looking off into the void, as many another in like plight has sat and + wearily waited, asking of the night and the sea the questions that are never answered. + As the bay shimmered under the light of morning, she could gaze toward the brown crags + of Salamis and the open Ægean beyond. The waves kept their abiding secret. The tall + triremes, the red-sailed fishers’ boats, came and went from the havens of Athens, but + Hermione never saw the ship that had borne away her all. </p> + <p> The roar and scandal following the unmasking of Glaucon had long since abated. + Hermippus—himself full five years grayer on account of the calamity—had taken his + daughter again to quiet Eleusis, where there was less to remind her of that terrible + night at Colonus. She spent the autumn and winter in an unbroken shadow life, with only + her mother and old Cleopis for companions. Reasons not yet told to the world gave her a + little hope and comfort. But in mere desire to make her dark cloud break, her parents + were continually giving Hermione pain. She guessed it long before her father’s wishes + passed beyond vaguest hints. She heard <pb n="198"/><anchor id="Pg198"/>him praising + Democrates, his zeal for Athens and Hellas, his fair worldly prospects, and there needed + no diviner to reveal Hermippus’s hidden meaning. Once she overheard Cleopis talking with + another maid. </p> + <p> + <q>Her Ladyship has taken on terribly, to be sure, but I told her mother <q>when a fire + blazes too hot, it burns out simply the faster.</q> Democrates is just the man to + console in another year.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes,</q> answered the other wiseacre, <q>she’s far too young and pretty to stay + unwedded very long. Aphrodite didn’t make her to sit as an old maid carding wool and + munching beans. One can see Hermippus’s and Lysistra’s purpose with half an eye.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Cleopis, Nania, what is this vile tattling that I hear?</q> + </p> + <p> The young mistress’s eyes blazed fury. Nania turned pale. Hermione was quite capable + of giving her a sound whipping, but Cleopis mustered a bold front and a ready lie: </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ei!</hi> dear little lady, don’t flash up so! I was only talking + with Nania about how Phryne the scullion maid was making eyes at Scylax the groom.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I heard you quite otherwise,</q> was the nigh tremulous answer. But Hermione was not + anxious to push matters to an issue. From the moment of Glaucon’s downfall she had + believed—what even her own mother had mildly derided—that Democrates had been the + author of her husband’s ruin. And now that the intent of her parents ever more clearly + dawned on her, she was close upon despair. Hermippus, however,—whatever his + purpose,—was considerate, nay kindly. He regarded Hermione’s feelings as pardonable, if + not laudable. He would wait for time to soothe her. But the consciousness that her + father purposed such a fate for her, however far postponed, was enough to double all the + unanswered longing, the unstilled pain. </p> + <pb n="199"/> + <anchor id="Pg199"/> + <p> Glaucon was gone. And with him gone, could Hermione’s sun ever rise again? Could she + hope, across the end of the æons, to clasp hands even in the dim House of Hades with her + glorious husband? If there was chance thereof, dark Hades would grow bright as Olympus. + How gladly she would fare out to the shade land, when Hermes led down his troops of + helpless dead. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Downward, down the long dark pathway,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Past Oceanus’s great streams,</l> + <l>Past the White Rock, past the Sun’s gates</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Downward to the land of Dreams:</l> + <l>There they reach the wide dim borders</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Of the fields of asphodel,</l> + <l>Where the spectres and the spirits</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none">Of wan, outworn mortals dwell.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> But was this the home of Glaucon the Fair; should the young, the strong, the pure in + heart, share one condemnation with the mean and the guilty? Homer the Wise left all hid. + Yet he told of some not doomed to the common lot. Thus ran the promise to Menelaus, + espoused to Helen. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Far away the gods shall bear you:</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">To the fair Elysian plains,</l> + <l>Where the time fleets gladly, swiftly,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Where bright Rhadamanthus reigns:</l> + <l>Snow is not, nor rain, nor winter,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">But clear zephyrs from the west,</l> + <l>Singing round the streams of Ocean</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none">Round the islands of the Blest.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Was the pledge for Menelaus only? </p> + <p> The boats came, the boats went, on the blue bay. But as the spring grew warm, Hermione + thought less of them, less almost of the last dread vision of Glaucon. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The cloud of the Persian hung ever darkening over Athens. <pb n="200"/><anchor id="Pg200"/>Continual rumours made Xerxes’s power terrible even beyond fact. It was + hard to go on eating, drinking, frequenting the jury or the gymnasium, when men knew to + a certainty the coming summer would bring Athens face to face with slavery or + destruction. Wise men grew silent. Fools took to carousing to banish care. But one word + not the frailest uttered—<q>submission.</q> Worldly prudence forbade that. The women + would have stabbed the craven to death with their bodkins. For the women were braver + than the men. They knew the fate of conquered Ionia: for the men only merciful death, + for the women the living death of the Persian harems and indignities words may not + utter. Whether Hellas forsook her or aided, Athens had chosen her fate. Xerxes might + annihilate her. Conquer her he could not. </p> + <p> Yet the early spring came back sweetly as ever. The warm breeze blew from Egypt. + Philomela sang in the olive groves. The snows on Pentelicus faded. Around the city ran + bands of children singing the <q>swallow’s song,</q> and beseeching the spring donation + of honey cakes:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">She is here, she is here, the swallow;</q></l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Fair seasons bringing,—fair seasons to follow.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> And many a housewife, as she rewarded the singers, dropped a silent tear, wondering + whether another spring would see the innocents anywhere save in a Persian slave-pen, or, + better fate, in Orchus. </p> + <p> Yet to one woman that spring there came consolation. On Hermippus’s door hung a glad + olive wreath. Hermione had borne a son. <q>The fairest babe she had ever seen,</q> cried + the midwife. <q>Phœnix,</q> the mother called him, <q>for in him shall Glaucon the + Beautiful live again.</q> Democrates sent a runner every day to Eleusis to inquire for + Hermione until all danger was passed. On the <q>name-day,</q> ten days <pb n="201"/><anchor id="Pg201"/>after the birth, he was absent from the gathering of friends and + kinsmen, but sent a valuable statuette to Hermione, who left it, however, to her father + to thank him. </p> + <p> The day after Phœnix was born old Conon, Glaucon’s father, died. The old man had never + recovered from the blow given by the dishonourable death of the son with whom he had so + lately quarrelled. He left a great landed estate at Marathon to his new-born grandson. + The exact value thereof Democrates inquired into sharply, and when a distant cousin + talked of contesting the will, the orator announced he would defend the infant’s rights. + The would-be plaintiff withdrew at once, not anxious to cross swords with this favourite + of the juries, and everybody said that Democrates was showing a most scrupulous regard + for his unfortunate friend’s memory. </p> + <p> Indeed, seemingly, Democrates ought to have been the happiest man in Athens. He had + been elected <q>strategus,</q> to serve on the board of generals along with + Themistocles. He had plenty of money, and gave great banquets to this or that group of + prominent citizens. During the winter he had asked Hermippus for his daughter in + marriage. The Eumolpid told him that since Glaucon’s fearful end, he was welcome as a + son-in-law. Still he could not conceal that Hermione never spoke of him save in hate, + and in view of her then delicate condition it was well not to press the matter. The + orator had seemed well content. <q>Woman’s fantasies would wear away in time.</q> But + the rumour of this negotiation, outrunning truth, grew into the lying report of an + absolute betrothal,—the report which was to drift to Asia and turn Glaucon’s heart to + stone, gossip having always wrought more harm than malignant lying. </p> + <p> Yet flies were in Democrates’s sweet ointment. He knew Themistocles hardly trusted him + as frankly as of yore. <pb n="202"/><anchor id="Pg202"/>Little Simonides, a man of wide + influence and keen insight, treated him very coldly. Cimon had cooled also. But worse + than all was a haunting dread. Democrates knew, if hardly another in Hellas, that the + Cyprian—in other words Mardonius—was safe in Asia, and likewise that he had fled on + the <name type="ship">Solon</name>. Mardonius, then, had escaped the storm. What if the + same miracle had saved the outlaw? What if the dead should awake? The chimera haunted + Democrates night and day. </p> + <p> Still he was beginning to shake off his terrors. He believed he had washed his hands + fairly clean of his treason, even if the water had cost his soul. He joined with all his + energies in seconding Themistocles. His voice was loudest at the Pnyx, counselling + resistance. He went on successful embassies to Sicyon and Ægina to get pledges of + alliance. In the summer he did his uttermost to prepare the army which Themistocles and + Evænetus the Spartan led to defend the pass of Tempē. The expedition sailed amid high + hopes for a noble defence of Hellas. Democrates was proud and sanguine. Then, like a + thunderbolt, there came one night a knock at his door. Bias led to his master no less a + visitor than the sleek and smiling Phœnician—Hiram. </p> + <p> The orator tried to cover his terrors by windy bluster. He broke in before the + Oriental could finish his elaborate salaam. </p> + <p> + <q>Of all the harpies and gorgons you are the least welcome. Were you not warned when + you fled Athens for Argos never to show your face in Attica again?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your Excellency said so,</q> was the bland reply. </p> + <p> + <q>Admirably you obey it. It remains for me to reward the obedience. Bias, go to the + street; summon two Scythian watchmen.</q> + </p> + <pb n="203"/> + <anchor id="Pg203"/> + <p> The Thracian darted out. Hiram simply stood with hands folded. </p> + <p> + <q>It is well, Excellency, the lad is gone. I have many things to say in confidence to + your Nobility. At Lacedæmon my Lord Lycon was gracious enough to give certain commands + for me to transmit to you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Commands? To me? Earth and gods! am I to be commanded by an adder like you? You shall + pay for this on the rack.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your slave thinks otherwise,</q> observed Hiram, humbly. <q>If your Lordship will + deign to read this letter, it will save your slave many words and your Lordship many + cursings.</q> + </p> + <p> He knelt again before he offered a papyrus. Democrates would rather have taken fire, + but he could not refuse. And thus he read:— </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q rend="post: none">Lycon of Lacedæmon to Democrates of Athens, greeting:—Can he + who Medizes in the summer Hellenize in the spring? I know your zeal for Themistocles. + Was it for this we plucked you back from exposure and ruin? Do then as Hiram bids you, + or repay the money you clutched so eagerly. Fail not, or rest confident all the + documents you betrayed shall go to Hypsichides the First Archon, your enemy. Use then + your eloquence on Attic juries! But you will grow wise; what need of me to threaten? + You will hearken to Hiram.</q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>From Sparta, on the festival of Bellerophon, in the ephorship of Theudas.—<hi rend="italic">Chaire!</hi></q> </p> + <p> Democrates folded the papyrus and stood long, biting his whitened lips in silence. + Perhaps he had surmised the intent of the letter the instant Hiram extended it. </p> + <p> + <q>What do you desire?</q> he said thickly, at last. </p> + <p> + <q>Let my Lord then hearken—</q> began the Phœnician, to be interrupted by the sudden + advent of Bias. </p> + <p> + <q>The Scythians are at the door, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> he was shouting; <q>shall I order them in and drag this lizard out by the tail?</q> + </p> + <pb n="204"/> + <anchor id="Pg204"/> + <p> + <q>No, in Zeus’s name, no! Bid them keep without. And do you go also. This honest fellow + is on private business which only I must hear.</q> + </p> + <p> Bias slammed the door. Perhaps he stood listening. Hiram, at least, glided nearer to + his victim and spoke in a smooth whisper, taking no chances of an eavesdropper. </p> + <p> + <q>Excellency, the desire of Lycon is this. The army has been sent to Tempē. At + Lacedæmon Lycon used all his power to prevent its despatch, but Leonidas is omnipotent + to-day in Sparta, and besides, since Lycon’s calamity at the Isthmia, his prestige, + and therefore his influence, is not a little abated. Nevertheless, the army must be + recalled from Tempē.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And the means?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yourself, Excellency. It is within your power to find a thousand good reasons why + Themistocles and Evænetus should retreat. And you will do so at once, Excellency.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not think you and your accursed masters can drive me from infamy to infamy. I can + be terrible if pushed to bay.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your Nobility has read Lycon’s letter,</q> observed the Phœnician, with folded arms. </p> + <p> There was a sword lying on the tripod by which Democrates stood; he regretted for all + the rest of his life that he had not seized it and ended the snakelike Oriental then and + there. The impulse came, and went. The opportunity never returned. The orator’s head + dropped down upon his breast. </p> + <p> + <q>Go back to Sparta, go back instantly,</q> he spoke in a hoarse whisper. <q>Tell that + Polyphemus you call your master there that I will do his will. And tell him, too, that + if ever the day comes for vengeance on him, on the Cyprian, on you,—my vengeance will + be terrible.</q> + </p> + <pb n="205"/> + <anchor id="Pg205"/> + <p> + <q>Your slave’s ears hear the first part of your message with joy,</q>—Hiram’s smile + never grew broader,—<q>the second part, which my Lord speaks in anger,—I will + forget.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Go! go!</q> ordered the orator, furiously. He clapped his hands. Bias reëntered. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell the constables I don’t need them. Here is an obol apiece for their trouble. + Conduct this man out. If he comes hither again, do you and the other slaves beat him + till there is not a whole spot left on his body.</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram’s genuflexion was worthy of Xerxes’s court. </p> + <p> + <q>My Lord, as always,</q> was his parting compliment, <q>has shown himself exceeding + wise.</q> + </p> + <p> Thus the Oriental went. In what a mood Democrates passed the remaining day needs only + scant wits to guess. Clearer, clearer in his ears was ringing Æschylus’s song of the + Furies. He could not silence it. </p> + <lg> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post: none">With scourge and with ban</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">We prostrate the man</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Who with smooth-woven wile</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">And a fair-facèd smile</l> + <l>Hath planted a snare for his friend!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though fleet, we shall find him;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though strong, we shall bind him,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Who planted a snare for his friend!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> He had intended to be loyal to Hellas,—to strive valiantly for her freedom,—and now! + Was the Nemesis coming upon him, not in one great clap, but stealthily, finger by + finger, cubit by cubit, until his soul’s price was to be utterly paid? Was this the + beginning of the recompense for the night scene at Colonus? </p> + <p> The next morning he made a formal visit to the shrine of the Furies in the hill of + Areopagus. <q>An old vow, too long deferred in payment, taken when he joined in his + first con<pb n="206"/><anchor id="Pg206"/>test on the Bema,</q> he explained to + friends, when he visited this uncanny spot. </p> + <p> Few were the Athenians who would pass that cleft in the Areopagus where the <q>Avengers</q> had their grim sanctuary without a quick motion of the hands to avert + the evil eye. Thieves and others of evil conscience would make a wide circuit rather + than pass this abode of Alecto, Megæra, and Tisiphone, pitiless pursuers of the guilty. + The terrible sisters hounded a man through life, and after death to the judgment bar of + Minos. With reason, therefore, the guilty dreaded them. </p> + <p> Democrates had brought the proper sacrifices—two black rams, which were duly + slaughtered upon the little altar before the shrine and sprinkled with sweetened water. + The priestess, a gray hag herself, asked her visitor if he would enter the cavern and + proffer his petition to the mighty goddesses. Leaving his friends outside, the orator + passed through the door which the priestess seemed to open in the side of the cave. He + saw only a jagged, unhewn cranny, barely tall enough for a man to stand upright and + reaching far into the sculptured rock. No image: only a few rough votive tablets set up + by a grateful suppliant for some mercy from the awful goddesses. </p> + <p> + <q>If you would pray here, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> said the hag, <q>it is + needful that I go forth and close the door. The holy Furies love the dark, for is not + their home in Tartarus?</q> + </p> + <p> She went forth. As the light vanished, Democrates seemed buried in the rock. Out of + the blackness spectres were springing against him. From a cleft he heard a flapping, a + bat, an imprisoned bird, or Alecto’s direful wings. He held his hands downward, for he + had to address infernal goddesses, and prayed in haste. </p> + <p> + <q>O ye sisters, terrible yet gracious, give ear. If by my <pb n="207"/><anchor id="Pg207"/>offerings I have found favour, lift from my heart this crushing load. + Deliver me from the fear of the blood guilty. Are ye not divine? Do not the immortals + know all things? Ye know, then, how I was tempted, how sore was the compulsion, and + how life and love were sweet. Then spare me. Give me back unhaunted slumber. Deliver + me from Lycon. Give my soul peace,—and in reward, I swear it by the Styx, by Zeus’s + own oath, I will build in your honour a temple by your sacred field at Colonus, where + men shall gather to reverence you forever.</q> + </p> + <p> But here he ceased. In the darkness moved something white. Again a flapping. He was + sure the white thing was Glaucon’s face. Glaucon had perished at sea. He had never been + buried, so his ghost was wandering over the world, seeking vainly for rest. It all came + to Democrates in an instant. His knees smote together; his teeth chattered. He sprang + back upon the door and forced it open, but never saw the dove that fluttered forth with + him. </p> + <p> + <q>A hideous place!</q> he cried to his waiting friends. <q>A man must have a stronger + heart than mine to love to tarry after his prayer is finished.</q> + </p> + <p> Only a few days later Hellas was startled to hear that Tempē had been evacuated + without a blow, and the pass left open to Xerxes. It was said Democrates, in his ever + commendable activity, had discovered at the last moment the mountain wall was not as + defensible as hoped, and any resistance would have been disastrous. Therefore, whilst + the retreat was bewailed, everybody praised the foresight of the orator. Everybody—one + should say, except two, Bias and Phormio. They had many conferences together, especially + after the coming and going of Hiram. </p> + <p> + <q>There is a larger tunny in the sea than yet has entered <pb n="208"/><anchor id="Pg208"/>the meshes,</q> confessed the fishmonger, sorely puzzled, after much + vain talk. </p> + <p> But Hermione was caring for none of these things. Her hands were busy with the + swaddling clothes. Her thoughts only for that wicker cradle which swung betwixt the + pillars, where Hermippus’s house looked toward Salamis. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="19" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="209"/> + <anchor id="Pg209"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XIX</head> + <head type="sub"> THE COMMANDMENT OF XERXES </head> + <p> It is easy to praise the blessings of peace. Still easier to paint the horrors of + war,—and yet war will remain for all time the greatest game at which human wits can + play. For in it every form of courage, physical and moral, and every talent are called + into being. If war at once develops the bestial, it also develops as promptly the + heroic. Alone of human activities it demands a brute’s strength, an iron will, a + serpent’s intellect, a lion’s courage—all in one. And of him who has these things in + justest measure, history writes, <q>He conquered.</q> It was because Mardonius seemed to + possess all these, to foresee everything, to surmount everything, that Glaucon despaired + for the fate of Hellas, even more than when he beheld the crushing armaments of the + Persian. </p> + <p> Yet for long it seemed as if the host would march even to Athens without battle, + without invoking Mardonius’s skill. The king crossed Thrace and Macedonia, meeting only + trembling hospitality from the cities along his route. At Doriscus he had held a review + of his army, and smiled when the fawning scribes told how one million seven hundred + thousand foot and eighty thousand horse followed his banners.<note place="foot">A + number, of course, grossly exaggerated.</note> Every fugitive and spy from southern + Hellas told how the hearts of the stanchest patriots were sinking, how everywhere save + in Athens and Sparta loud voices urged the <pb n="210"/><anchor id="Pg210"/>sending of + <q>earth and water,</q>—tokens of submission to the irresistible king. At the pass of + Tempē covering Thessaly, Glaucon, who knew the hopes of Themistocles, had been + certain the Hellenes would make a stand. Rumour had it that ten thousand Greek infantry + were indeed there, and ready for battle. But the outlaw’s expectations were utterly + shattered. To the disgust of the Persian lords, who dearly loved brisk fighting, it was + soon told how the cowardly Hellenes had fled by ship, leaving the rich plains of + Thessaly bare to the invader. </p> + <p> Thus was blasted Glaucon’s last hope. Hellas was doomed. He almost looked to see + Themistocles coming as ambassador to bring the homage of Athens. Since his old life + seemed closed to the outlaw, he allowed Mardonius to have his will with him,—to teach + him to act, speak, think, as an Oriental. He even bowed himself low before the king, an + act rewarded by being commanded one evening to play at dice with majesty itself. Xerxes + was actually gracious enough to let his new subject win from him three handsome Syrian + slave-boys. </p> + <p> + <q>You Hellenes are becoming wise,</q> announced the monarch one day, when the Locrian + envoys came with their earth and water. <q>If you can learn to speak the truth, you will + equal even the virtues of the Aryans.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your Majesty has not found me a liar,</q> rejoined the Athenian, warmly. </p> + <p> + <q>You gather our virtues apace. I must consider how I can reward you by promotion.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The king is overwhelmingly generous. Already I fear many of his servants mutter that + I am promoted beyond all desert.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Mutter? mutter against you?</q> The king’s eyes flashed ominously. <q>By Mazda, it is + against me, then, who advanced <pb n="211"/><anchor id="Pg211"/>you! Hearken, + Otanes,</q>—he addressed the general of the Persian footmen, who stood near by,—<q>who + are the disobedient slaves who question my advancement of Prexaspes?</q> + </p> + <p> The general—he had been the loudest grumbler—bowed and kissed the carpet. </p> + <p> + <q>None, your Eternity; on the contrary, there is not one Aryan in the host who does not + rejoice the king has found so noble an object for his godlike bounty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You hear, Prexaspes,</q> said Xerxes, mollified. <q>I am glad, for the man who + questions my wisdom touching your advancement must be impaled. To-morrow is my + birthday, you will not fail to sit with the other great lords at the banquet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The king overpowers me with his goodness.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not fail to deserve it. Mardonius is always praising you. Consider also how much + better it is to depend on a gracious king than on the clamour of the fickle mob that + rules in your helpless cities!</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The next morning was the royal birthday. The army, pitched in the fertile plain by + Thessalian Larissa, feasted on the abundance at hand. The king distributed huge + largesses of money. All day long he sat in his palace-like tent, receiving + congratulations from even the lowest of his followers, and bound in turn not to reject + any reasonable petition. The Magi sacrificed blooded stallions and rare spices to Mithra + the <q>Lord of Wide Pastures,</q> to Vohu-Manu the <q>Holy Councillor,</q> and all their + other angels, desiring them to bless the arms of the king. </p> + <p> The <q>Perfect Banquet</q> of the birthday came in the evening. It hardly differed + from the feast at Sardis. The royal pavilion had its poles plated with silver, the + tapestries <pb n="212"/><anchor id="Pg212"/>were green and purple, the couches were + spread with gorgeous coverlets. Only the drinking was more moderate, the ceremonial less + rigid. The fortunate guests devoured dainties reserved for the special use of royalty: + the flour of the bread was from Assos, the wine from Helbon, the water to dilute the + wine had come in silver flasks from the Choaspes by Susa. The king even distributed the + special unguent of lion’s fat and palm wine which no subject, unpermitted, could use and + shun the death penalty. </p> + <p> Then at the end certain of the fairest of the women came and danced unveiled before + the king—this one night when they might show forth their beauty. And last of all danced + Roxana. She danced alone; a diaphanous drapery of pink Egyptian cotton blew around her + as an evening cloud. From her black hair shone the diamond coronet. To the sensuous + swing of the music she wound in and out before the king and his admiring lords, + advancing, retreating, rising, swaying, a paragon of agility and grace, feet, body, + hands, weaving their charm together. When at the end she fell on her knees before the + king, demanding whether she had done well, the applause shook the pavilion. The king + looked down on her, smiling. </p> + <p> + <q>Rise, sister of Mardonius. All Eran rejoices in you to-night. And on this evening + whose request can I fail to grant? Whose can I grant more gladly than yours? Speak; + you shall have it, though it be for half my kingdoms.</q> + </p> + <p> The dancer arose, but hung down her flashing coronal. Her blush was enchanting. She + stood silent, while the good-humoured king smiled down on her, till Artazostra came from + her seat by Mardonius and whispered in her ear. Every neck in the crowded pavilion was + craned as Artazostra spoke to Xerxes. </p> + <p> + <q>May it please my royal brother, this is the word of Rox<pb n="213"/><anchor id="Pg213"/>ana. <q>I love my brother Mardonius; nevertheless, contrary to the + Persian custom, he keeps me now to my nineteenth year unwedded. If now I have found + favour in the sight of the king, let him command Mardonius to give me to some noble + youth who shall do me honour by the valiant deeds and the true service he shall + render unto my Lord.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A fair petition! Let the king grant it!</q> shouted twenty; while others more wise + whispered, <q>This was not done without foreknowledge by Mardonius.</q> + </p> + <p> Xerxes smiled benignantly and rubbed his nose with the lion’s fat while deliberating. </p> + <p> + <q>An evil precedent, lady, an evil precedent when women demand husbands and do not wait + for their fathers’ or brothers’ good pleasure. But I have promised. The word of the + king is not to be broken. Daughter of Gobryas, your petition is granted. Come hither, + Mardonius,</q>—the bow-bearer approached the throne,—<q>you have heard the bold + desire of your sister, and my answer. I must command you to bestow on her a + husband.</q> + </p> + <p> The bow-bearer bowed obediently. </p> + <p> + <q>I hear the word of the king, and all his mandates are good. This is no meet time for + marriage festivities, when the Lord of the World and all the Aryan power goes forth to + war. Yet as soon as the impious rebels amongst the Hellenes shall be subdued, I will + rejoice to bestow my sister upon whatsoever fortunate servant the king may deign to + honour.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You hear him, lady,</q>—the royal features assumed a grin, which was reflected + throughout the pavilion. <q>A husband you shall have, but Mardonius shall be revenged. + Your fate is in my hands. And shall not I,—guardian of the households of my + empire,—give a warning to all bold maidens against lifting their wills too proudly, + or presuming upon an overindulgent king? What then shall be just <pb n="214"/><anchor id="Pg214"/>punishment?</q> The king bent his head, still rubbing his nose, and + trying to persuade all about that he was meditating. </p> + <p> + <q>Bardas, satrap of Sogandia, is old; he has but one eye; they say he beats his eleven + wives daily with a whip of rhinoceros hide. It would be just if I gave him this woman + also in marriage. What think you, Hydarnes?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If your Eternity bestows this woman on Bardas, every husband and father in all your + kingdoms will applaud your act,</q> smiled the commander. </p> + <p> The threatened lady fell again on her knees, outstretching her hands and beseeching + mercy,—never a more charming picture of misery and contrition. </p> + <p> + <q>You tremble, lady,</q> went on the sovran, <q>and justly. It were better for my + empire if my heart were less hard. After all, you danced so elegantly that I must be + mollified. There is the young Prince Zophyrus, son of Datis the general,—he has only + five wives already. True, he is usually the worse for wine, is not handsome, and + killed one of his women not long since because she did not sing to please him. + Yes—you shall have Zophyrus—he will surely rule you—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Mercy, not Zophyrus, gracious Lord,</q> pleaded the abject Egyptian. </p> + <p> The king looked down on her, with a broader grin than ever. </p> + <p> + <q>You are very hard to please. I ought to punish your wilfulness by some dreadful doom. + Do not cry out again. I will not hear you. My decision is fixed. Mardonius shall + bestow you in marriage to a man who is not even a Persian by birth, who one year since + was a disobedient rebel against my power, who even now contemns and despises many of + the good customs of the Aryans. Hark, then, to his name. When Hellas is conquered, I + command that Mardonius wed you to the Lord Prexaspes.</q> + </p> + <pb n="215"/> + <anchor id="Pg215"/> + <p> The king broke into an uproarious laugh, a signal for the thousand loyal subjects + within the great pavilion to roar with laughter also. In the confusion following + Artazostra and Roxana disappeared. Fifty hands dragged the appointed bridegroom to the + king, showering on him all manner of congratulations. Xerxes’s act was a plain proof + that he was adopting the beautiful Hellene as one of his personal favourites,—a post of + influence and honour not to be despised by a vizier. What <q>Prexaspes</q> said when he + thanked the king was drowned in the tumult of laughing and cheering. The monarch, + delighted to play the gracious god, roared his injunctions to the Athenian so loud that + above the din they heard him. </p> + <p> + <q>You will bridle her well, Prexaspes. I know them—those Egyptian fillies! They need a + hard curb and the lash at times. Beware the tyranny of your own harem. I would not + have the satrapies know how certain bright eyes in the seraglio can make the son of + Darius play the fool. There is nothing more dangerous than women. It will take all + your courage to master them. A hard task lies before you. I have given you one wife, + but you know our good Persian custom—five, ten, or twenty. Take the score, I order + you. Then in twelve years you’ll be receiving the prize a Persian king bestows every + summer on the father of the most children!</q> + </p> + <p> And following this broad hint, the king held his sides with laughter again, a mirth + which it is needless to say was echoed and reëchoed till it seemed it could not cease. + Only a few ventured to mutter under breath: <q>The Hellene will have a subsatrapy in the + East before the season is over and a treasure of five thousand talents! Mithra wither + the upstart!</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The summer was waning when the host moved southward <pb n="216"/><anchor id="Pg216"/>from Larissa, for mere numbers had made progress slow, and despite Mardonius’s + providence the question of commissariat sometimes became difficult. Now at last, leaving + behind Thrace and Macedonia, the army began to enter Greece itself. As it fared across + the teeming plains of Thessaly, it met only welcome from the inhabitants and submissions + from fresh embassies. Report came from the fleet—keeping pace with the land army along + the coasts—that nowhere had the weak squadrons of the Greeks adventured a stand. Daily + the smile of the Lord of the World grew more complacent, as his <q>table-companions</q> + told him: <q>The rumour of your Eternity’s advent stupefies the miserable Hellenes. Like + Atar, the Angel of Fire, your splendour glitters afar. You will enter Athens and + Sparta, and no sword leave its sheath, no bow its wrapper.</q> + </p> + <p> Every day Mardonius asked of Glaucon, <q>Will your Hellenes fight?</q> and the answer + was ever more doubting, <q>I do not know.</q> + </p> + <p> Long since Glaucon had given up hope of the defeat of the Persian. Now he prayed + devoutly there might be no useless shedding of blood. If only he could turn back and not + behold the humiliation of Athens! Of the fate of the old-time friends—Democrates, + Cimon, Hermione—he tried not to think. No doubt Hermione was the wife of Democrates. + More than a year had sped since the flight from Colonus. Hermione had put off her + mourning for the yellow veil of a bride. Glaucon prayed the war might bring her no new + sorrow, though Democrates, of course, would resist Persia to the end. As for himself he + would never darken their eyes again. He was betrothed to Roxana. With her he would seek + one of those valleys in Bactria which she had praised, the remoter the better, and there + perhaps was peace. </p> + <pb n="217"/> + <anchor id="Pg217"/> + <p> Thus the host wound through Thessaly, till before them rose, peak on peak, the jagged + mountain wall of Othrys and Œta, fading away in violet distance, the bulwark of central + Hellas. Then the king’s smile became a frown, for the Hellenes, undismayed despite his + might, were assembling their fleet at northern Eubœa, and at the same time a tempest had + shattered a large part of the royal navy. The Magi offered sacrifice to appease + Tishtrya, the Prince of the Wind-ruling Stars, but the king’s frown grew blacker at each + message. Glaucon was near him when at last the monarch’s thunders broke forth. </p> + <p> A hot, sultry day. The king’s chariot had just crossed the mountain stream of the + Sphercus, when a captain of a hundred came galloping, dismounted, and prostrated himself + in the dust. </p> + <p> + <q>Your tidings?</q> demanded Xerxes, sharply. </p> + <p> + <q>Be gracious, Fountain of Mercy,</q>—the captain evidently disliked his mission,—<q>I am sent from the van. We came to a place where the mountains thrust down upon the + sea and leave but a narrow road by the ocean. Your slaves found certain Hellenes, + rebels against your benignant government, holding a wall and barring all passage to + your army.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And did you not forthwith seize these impudent wretches and drag them hither to be + judged by me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Compassion, Omnipotence,</q>—the messenger trembled,—<q>they seemed sturdy, + well-armed rogues, and the way was narrow and steep where a score can face a thousand. + Therefore, your slave came straight with his tidings to the ever gracious king.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dog! Coward!</q> Xerxes plucked the whip from the charioteer’s hand and lashed it + over the wretch’s shoulders. <q>By the <hi rend="italic">fravashi</hi>, the soul of + Darius my father, no man shall bring so foul a word to me and live!</q> + </p> + <pb n="218"/> + <anchor id="Pg218"/> + <p> + <q>Compassion, Omnipotence, compassion!</q> groaned the man, writhing like a worm. + Already the master-of-punishments was approaching to cover his face with a towel, + preparatory to the bow-string, but the royal anger spent itself just enough to avert a + tragedy. </p> + <p> + <q>Your life is forfeit, but I am all too merciful! Take then three hundred stripes on + the soles of your feet and live to be braver in the future.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A thousand blessings on your benignity,</q> cried the captain, as they led him away, + <q>I congratulate myself that insignificant as I am the king yet deigns to notice my + existence even to recompense my shortcomings.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Off,</q> ordered the bristling monarch, <q>or you die the death yet. And do you, + Mardonius, take Prexaspes, who somewhat knows this country, spur forward, and discover + who are the madmen thus earning their destruction.</q> + </p> + <p> The command was obeyed. Glaucon galloped beside the Prince, overtaking the marching + army, until as they cantered into the little mud-walled city of Heraclea a second + messenger from the van met them with further details. </p> + <p> + <q>The pass is held by seven thousand Grecian men-at-arms. There are no Athenians. There + are three hundred come from Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And their chief?</q> asked Glaucon, leaning eagerly. </p> + <p> + <q>Is Leonidas of Lacedæmon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then, O Mardonius,</q> spoke the Athenian, with a throb in his voice not there an + hour ago. <q>There will be battle.</q> + </p> + <p> So, whether wise men or mad, the Hellenes were not to lay down their arms without one + struggle, and Glaucon knew not whether to be sorry or to be proud. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="20" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="219"/> + <anchor id="Pg219"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XX</head> + <head type="sub"> THERMOPYLÆ </head> + <p> A rugged mountain, an inaccessible morass, and beyond that morass the sea: the + mountain thrusting so close upon the morass as barely to leave space for a narrow wagon + road. This was the western gate of Thermopylæ. Behind the narrow defile the mountain and + swamp-land drew asunder; in the still scanty opening hot springs gushed forth, sacred to + Heracles, then again on the eastern side Mt. Œta and the impenetrable swamp drew + together, forming the second of the <q>Hot Gates,</q>—the gates which Xerxes must + unlock if he would continue his march to Athens. </p> + <p> The Great King’s couriers reported that the stubborn Hellenes had cast a wall across + the entrance, and that so far from showing terror at the advent of majesty, were + carelessly diverting themselves by athletic games, and by combing and adorning their + hair, a fact which the <q>Lord Prexaspes</q> at least comprehended to mean that Leonidas + and his Spartans were preparing for desperate battle. Nevertheless, it was hard to + persuade the king that at last he confronted men who would resist him to his face. + Glaucon said it. Demaratus, the outlawed Spartan, said it. Xerxes, however, remained + angry and incredulous. Four long days he and his army sat before the pass, <q>because,</q> announced his couriers, <q>he wishes in his benignity to give these madmen + a chance to flee away and shun destruction;</q> + <pb n="220"/><anchor id="Pg220"/><q>because,</q> spoke those nearest to Mardonius, the + brain of the army, <q>there is hot fighting ahead, and the general is resolved to bring + up the picked troops in the rear before risking a battle.</q> + </p> + <p> Then on the fifth day either Xerxes’s patience was exhausted or Mardonius felt ready. + Strong regiments of Median infantry were ordered to charge Leonidas’s position, Xerxes + not failing to command that they slay as few of the wretches as possible, but drag them + prisoners before his outraged presence. </p> + <p> A noble charge. A terrible repulse. For the first time those Asiatics who had + forgotten Marathon discovered the overwhelming superiority that the sheathing of heavy + armour gave the Greek hoplites over the lighter armed Median spearmen. The short lances + and wooden targets of the attackers were pitifully futile against the long spears and + brazen shields of the Hellenes. In the narrow pass the vast numbers of Barbarians went + for nothing. They could not use their archers, they could not charge with their + magnificent cavalry. The dead lay in heaps. The Medes attacked again and again. At last + an end came to their courage. The captains laid the lash over their mutinous troops. The + men bore the whips in sullen silence. They would not charge again upon those devouring + spears. </p> + <p> White with anger, Xerxes turned to Hydarnes and his <q>Immortals,</q> the infantry of + the Life Guard. The general needed no second bidding. The charge was driven home with + magnificent spirit. But what the vassal Medes could not accomplish, neither could the + lordly Persians. The repulse was bloody. If once Leonidas’s line broke and the Persians + rushed on with howls of triumph, it was only to see the Hellenes’ files close in a + twinkling and return to the onset with their foes in confusion. Hydarnes led back his + men <pb n="221"/><anchor id="Pg221"/>at last. The king sat on the ivory throne just out + of arrow shot, watching the ebb and flow of the battle. Hydarnes approached and + prostrated himself. </p> + <p> + <q>Omnipotence, I the least of your slaves put my life at your bidding. Command that I + forfeit my head, but my men can do no more. I have lost hundreds. The pass is not to + be stormed.</q> + </p> + <p> Only the murmur of assent from all the well-tried generals about the throne saved + Hydarnes from paying the last penalty. The king’s rage was fearful; men trembled to look + on him. His words came so thick, the rest could never follow all his curses and + commands. Only Mardonius was bold enough to stand up before his face. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Eternity, this is an unlucky day. Is it not sacred to Angra-Mainyu the Evil? The + arch-Magian says the holy fire gives forth sparks of ill-omen. Wait, then, till + to-morrow. Verethraghna, the Angel of Victory, will then return to your servants.</q> + </p> + <p> The bow-bearer led his trembling master to the royal tent, and naught more of Xerxes + was seen till the morning. All that night Mardonius never slept, but went unceasingly + the round of the host preparing for battle. Glaucon saw little of him. The Athenian + himself had been posted among the guard of nobles directly about the person of the king, + and he was glad he was set nowhere else, otherwise he might have been ordered to join in + the attack. Like every other in the host, he slept under arms, and never returned to + Mardonius’s pavilion. His heart had been in his eyes all that day. He had believed + Leonidas would be swept from the pass at the first onset. Even he had underrated the + Spartan prowess. The repulse of the Medes had astonished him. When Hydarnes reeled back, + he could hardly conceal his joy. The Hellenes were fighting! The Hellenes were + conquering! <pb n="222"/><anchor id="Pg222"/>He forgot he stood almost at Xerxes’s side + when the last charge failed; and barely in time did he save himself from joining in the + shout of triumph raised by the defenders when the decimated Immortals slunk away. He had + grown intensely proud of his countrymen, and when he heard the startled Persian lords + muttering dark forbodings of the morrow, he all but laughed his gladness in their faces. </p> + <p> So the night passed for him: the hard earth for a bed, a water cruse wrapped in a + cloak for a pillow. And just as the first red blush stole over the green Malian bay and + the mist-hung hills of Eubœa beyond, he woke with all the army. Mardonius had used the + night well. Chosen contingents from every corps were ready. Cavalrymen had been + dismounted. Heavy masses of Assyrian archers and Arabian slingers were advanced to + prepare for the attack by overwhelming volleys. The Persian noblemen, stung to madness + by their king’s reproaches and their own sense of shame, bound themselves by fearful + oaths never to draw from the onset until victorious or dead. The attack itself was led + by princes of the blood, royal half-brothers of the king. Xerxes sat again on the ivory + throne, assured by every obsequious tongue that the sacred fire gave fair omens, that + to-day was the day of victory. </p> + <p> The attack was magnificent. For an instant its fury seemed to carry the Hellenes back. + Where a Persian fell two stepped over him. The defenders were swept against their wall. + The Barbarians appeared to be storming it. Then like the tide the battle turned. The + hoplites, locking shields, presented an impenetrable spear hedge. The charge spent + itself in empty promise. Mardonius, who had been in the thickest, nevertheless drew off + his men skilfully and prepared to renew the combat. </p> + <p> In the interval Glaucon, standing by the king, could see a short, firm figure in black + armour going in and out among the <pb n="223"/><anchor id="Pg223"/>Hellenes, ordering + their array—Leonidas—he needed no bird to tell him. And as the Athenian stood and + watched, saw the Persians mass their files for another battering charge, saw the Great + King twist his beard whilst his gleaming eyes followed the fate of his army, an impulse + nigh irresistible came over him to run one short bow-shot to that opposite array, and + cry in his own Greek tongue:— </p> + <p> + <q>I am a Hellene, too! Look on me come to join you, to live and die with you, with my + face against the Barbarian!</q> + </p> + <p> Cruel the fate that set him here, impotent, when on that band of countrymen Queen + Nikē was shedding bright glory! </p> + <p> But he was <q>Glaucon the Traitor</q> still, to be awarded the traitor’s doom by + Leonidas. Therefore the <q>Lord Prexaspes</q> must stand at his post, guarding the king + of the Aryans. </p> + <p> The second charge was as the first, the third was as the second. Mardonius was full of + recourses. By repeated attacks he strove to wear the stubborn Hellenes down. The + Persians proved their courage seven times. Ten of them died gladly, if their deaths + bought that of a single foe. But few as were Leonidas’s numbers, they were not so few as + to fail to relieve one another at the front of the press,—which front was fearfully + narrow. And three times, as his men drifted back in defeat, Xerxes the king <q>leaped + from the throne whereon he sat, in anguish for his army.</q> + </p> + <p> At noon new contingents from the rear took the place of the exhausted attackers. The + sun beat down with unpitying heat. The wounded lay sweltering in their agony whilst the + battle roared over them. Mardonius never stopped to count his dead. Then at last came + nightfall. Man could do no more. As the shadows from Œta grew long over the close scene + of combat, even the proudest Persians turned away. They had lost thousands. Their defeat + was absolute. <pb n="224"/><anchor id="Pg224"/>Before them and to westward and far away + ranged the jagged mountains, report had it, unthreaded by a single pass. To the eastward + was only the sea,—the sea closed to them by the Greek fleet at the unseen haven of + Artemisium. Was the triumph march of the Lord of the World to end in this? </p> + <p> Xerxes spoke no word when they took him to his tent that night, a sign of + indescribable anger. Fear, humiliation, rage—all these seemed driving him mad. His + chamberlains and eunuchs feared to approach to take off his golden armour. Mardonius + came to the royal tent; the king, with curses he had never hurled against the bow-bearer + before, refused to see him. The battle was ended. No one was hardy enough to talk of a + fresh attack on the morrow. Every captain had to report the loss of scores of his best. + As Glaucon rode back to Mardonius’s tents, he overheard two infantry officers:— </p> + <p> + <q>A fearful day—the bow-bearer is likely to pay for it. I hope his Majesty confines + his anger only to him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes—Mardonius will walk the Chinvat bridge to-morrow. The king is turning against + him. Megabyzus is the bow-bearer’s enemy, and already is gone to his Majesty to say + that it is Mardonius’s blunders that have brought the army to such a plight. The king + will catch at that readily.</q> + </p> + <p> At the tents Glaucon found Artazostra and Roxana. They were both pale. The news of the + great defeat had been brought by a dozen messengers. Mardonius had not arrived. He was + not slain, that was certain, but Artazostra feared the worst. The proud daughter of + Darius found it hard to bear up. </p> + <p> + <q>My husband has many enemies. Hitherto the king’s favour has allowed him to mock them. + But if my brother deserts him, his ruin is speedy. Ah! Ahura-Mazda, why hast Thou + suffered us to see this day?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon said what he could of comfort, which was little. <pb n="225"/><anchor id="Pg225"/>Roxana wept piteously; he was fain to soothe her by his caress,—something + he had never ventured before. Artazostra was on the point of calling her eunuchs and + setting forth for Xerxes’s tent to plead for the life of her husband, when suddenly + Pharnuches, Mardonius’s body-servant, came with news that dispelled at least the fears + of the women. </p> + <p> + <q>I am bidden to tell your Ladyships that my master has silenced the tongues of his + enemies and is restored to the king’s good favor. And I am bidden also to command the + Lord Prexaspes to come to the royal tent. His Majesty has need of him.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon went, questioning much as to the service to be required. He did not soon + forget the scene that followed. The great pavilion was lit by a score of resinous + flambeaux. The red light shook over the green and purple hangings, the silver plating of + the tent-poles. At one end rose the golden throne of the king; before it in a semicircle + the stools of a dozen or more princes and commanders. In the centre stood Mardonius + questioning a coarse-featured, ill-favoured fellow, who by his sheepskin dress and + leggings Glaucon instantly recognized as a peasant of this Malian country. The king + beckoned the Athenian into the midst and was clearly too eager to stand on ceremony. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Greek is better than Mardonius’s, good Prexaspes. In a matter like this we dare + not trust too many interpreters. This man speaks the rough dialect of his country, and + few can understand him. Can you interpret?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am passing familiar with the Locrian and Malian dialect, your Majesty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Question this man further as to what he will do for us. We have understood him but + lamely.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon proceeded to comply. The man, who was exceeding awkward and ill at ease in + such august company, <pb n="226"/><anchor id="Pg226"/>spoke an outrageous shepherd’s + jargon which even the Athenian understood with effort. But his business came out + speedily. He was Ephialtes, the son of one Eurydemus, a Malian, a dull-witted grazier of + the country, brought to Mardonius by hope of reward. The general, partly understanding + his purpose, had brought him to the king. In brief, he was prepared, for due + compensation, to lead the Persians by an almost unknown mountain path over the ridge of + Œta and to the rear of Leonidas’s position at Thermopylæ, where the Hellenes, assailed + front and rear, would inevitably be destroyed. </p> + <p> As Glaucon interpreted, the shout of relieved gladness from the Persian grandees made + the tent-cloths shake. Xerxes’s eyes kindled. He clapped his hands. </p> + <p> + <q>Reward? He shall have ten talents! But where? How?</q> + </p> + <p> The man asserted that the path was easy and practicable for a large body of troops. He + had often been over it with his sheep and goats. If the Persians would start a force at + once—it was already quite dark—they could fall upon Leonidas at dawn. The Spartan + would be completely trapped, or forced to open the defile without another spear thrust. </p> + <p> + <q>A care, fellow,</q> warned Mardonius, regarding the man sharply; <q>you speak glibly, + but if this is a trick to lead a band of the king’s servants to destruction, + understand you play with deadly dice. If the troops march, you shall have your hands + knotted together and a soldier walking behind to cut your throat at the first sign of + treachery.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon interpreted the threat. The man did not wince. </p> + <p> + <q>There is no trap. I will guide you.</q> + </p> + <p> That was all they could get him to say. </p> + <pb n="227"/> + <anchor id="Pg227"/> + <p> + <q>And do not the Hellenes know of this mountain path and guard it?</q> persisted the + bow-bearer. </p> + <p> Ephialtes thought not; at least if they had, they had not told off any efficient + detachment to guard it. Hydarnes cut the matter short by rising from his stool and + casting himself before the king. </p> + <p> + <q>A boon, your Eternity, a boon!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What is it?</q> asked the monarch. </p> + <p> + <q>The Immortals have been disgraced. Twice they have been repulsed with ignominy. The + shame burns hot in their breasts. Suffer them to redeem their honour. Suffer me to + take this man and all the infantry of the Life Guard, and at dawn the Lord of the + World shall see his desire over his miserable enemies.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The words of Hydarnes are good,</q> added Mardonius, incisively, and Xerxes beamed + and nodded assent. </p> + <p> + <q>Go, scale the mountain with the Immortals and tell this Ephialtes there await him ten + talents and a girdle of honour if the thing goes well; if ill, let him be flayed alive + and his skin be made the head of a kettledrum.</q> + </p> + <p> The stolid peasant did not blench even at this. Glaucon remained in the tent, + translating and hearing all the details: how Hydarnes was to press the attack from the + rear at early dawn, how Mardonius was to conduct another onset from the front. At last + the general of the guard knelt before the king for the last time. </p> + <p> + <q>Thus I go forth, Omnipotence, and to-morrow, behold your will upon your enemies, or + behold me never more.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have faithful slaves,</q> said Xerxes, rising and smiling benignantly upon the + general and the bow-bearer. <q>Let us disperse, but first let command be given the + Magians to cry all night to Mithra and Tishtrya, and to sacrifice to them a white + horse.</q> + </p> + <pb n="228"/> + <anchor id="Pg228"/> + <p> + <q>Your Majesty always enlists the blessings of heaven for your servants,</q> bowed + Mardonius, as the company broke up and the king went away to his inner tent and his + concubines. Glaucon lingered until most of the grandees had gone forth, then the + bow-bearer went to him. </p> + <p> + <q>Go back to my tents,</q> ordered Mardonius; <q>tell Artazostra and Roxana that all is + well, that Ahura has delivered me from a great strait and restored me to the king’s + favour, and that to-morrow the gate of Hellas will be opened.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You are still bloody and dusty. You have watched all last night and been in the thick + all day,</q> expostulated the Athenian; <q>come to the tents with me and rest.</q> + </p> + <p> The bow-bearer shook his head. </p> + <p> + <q>No rest until to-morrow, and then the rest of victory or a longer one. Now go; the + women are consuming with their care.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon wandered back through the long avenues of pavilions. The lights of innumerable + camp-fires, the hum of thousands of voices, the snorting of horses, the grumbling of + camels, the groans of men wounded—all these and all other sights and sounds from the + countless host were lost to him. He walked on by a kind of animal instinct that took him + to Mardonius’s encampment through the mazes of the canvas city. It was dawning on him + with a terrible clearness that he was become a traitor to Hellas in very deed. It was + one thing to be a passive onlooker of a battle, another to be a participant in a plot + for the ruin of Leonidas. Unless warned betimes the Spartan king and all who followed + him infallibly would be captured or slaughtered to a man. And he had heard all—the + traitor, the discussion, the design—had even, if without his choice, been partner and + helper in the same. The blood of Leonidas and his men would be on his head. Every curse + the Athenians had heaped on him <pb n="229"/><anchor id="Pg229"/>once unjustly, he would + deserve. Now truly he would be, even in his own mind’s eyes, <q>Glaucon the Traitor, + partner to the betrayal of Thermopylæ.</q> The doltish peasant, lured by the great + reward, he might forgive,—himself, the high-born Alcmæonid, never. </p> + <p> From this revery he was shaken by finding himself at the entrance to the tents of + Mardonius. Artazostra and Roxana came to meet him. When he told of the deliverance of + the bow-bearer, he had joy by the light in their eyes. Roxana had never shone in greater + beauty. He spoke of the heat of the sun, of his throbbing head. The women bathed his + forehead with lavender-water, touching him with their own soft hands. Roxana sang again + to him, a low, crooning song of the fragrant Nile, the lotus bells, the nodding palms, + the perfumed breeze from the desert. Whilst he watched her through half-closed eyes, the + visions of that day of battles left him. He sat wrapped in a dream world, far from stern + realities of men and arms. So for a while, as he lounged on the divans, following the + play of the <anchor id="corr229"/><corr sic="torchlight">torch-light</corr> on the face of + Roxana as her long fingers plied the strings. What + was it to him if Leonidas fought a losing battle? Was not his happiness secure—be it in + Hellas, or Egypt, or Bactria? He tried to persuade himself thus. At the end, when he and + Roxana stood face to face for the parting, he violated all Oriental custom, yet he knew + her brother would not be angry. He took her in his arms and gave her kiss for kiss. </p> + <p> Then he went to his own tent to seek rest. But Hypnos did not come for a long time + with his poppies. Once out of the Egyptian’s presence the haunting terror had returned, + <q>Glaucon the Traitor!</q> Those three words were always uppermost. At last, indeed, + sleep came and as he slept he dreamed. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="21" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="230"/> + <anchor id="Pg230"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXI</head> + <head type="sub"> THE THREE HUNDRED—AND ONE </head> + <p> As Glaucon slept he found himself again in Athens. He was on the familiar way from the + cool wrestling ground of the Academy and walking toward the city through the suburb of + Ceramicus. Just as he came to the three tall pine trees before the gate, after he had + passed the tomb of Solon, behold! a fair woman stood in the path and looked on him. She + was beyond mortal height and of divine beauty, yet a beauty grave and stern. Her gray + eyes cut to his heart like swords. On her right hand hovered a winged Victory, on her + shoulder rested an owl, at her feet twined a wise serpent, in her left hand she bore the + ægis, the shaggy <anchor id="corr230"/><corr sic="goatskin">goat-skin</corr> engirt + with snakes—emblem of Zeus’s lightnings. Glaucon knew + that she was Athena Polias, the Warder of Athens, and lifted his hands to adore her. But + she only looked on him in silent anger. Fire seemed leaping from her eyes. The more + Glaucon besought, the more she turned away. Fear possessed him. <q>Woe is me,</q> he + trembled, <q>I have enraged a terrible immortal.</q> Then suddenly the woman’s + countenance was changed. The ægis, the serpent, the Victory, all vanished; he saw + Hermione before him, beautiful as on the day she ran to greet him at Eleusis, yet sad as + was his last sight of her the moment he fled from Colonus. Seized with infinite longing, + he sprang to her. But lo! she drifted back as into the air. It was even as when Odysseus + followed the shade of his mother in the shadowy Land of the Dead. </p> + <pb n="231"/> + <anchor id="Pg231"/> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Yearned he sorely then to clasp her,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Thrice his arms were opened wide:</l> + <l>From his hands so strong, so loving,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Like a dream she seemed to glide,</l> + <l>And away, away she flitted,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Whilst he grasped the empty space,</l> + <l>And a pain shot through him, maddening,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none">As he strove for her embrace.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> He pursued, she drifted farther, farther. Her face was inexpressibly sorrowful. And + Glaucon knew that she spoke to him. </p> + <p> + <q>I have believed you innocent, though all Athens calls you <q>traitor.</q> I have been + true to you, though all men rise up against me. In what manner have you kept your + innocence? Have you had love for another, caresses for another, kisses for another? + How will you prove your loyalty to Athens and return?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hermione!</q> Glaucon cried, not in his dream, but quite aloud. He awoke with a + start. Outside the tent sentry was calling to sentry, changing the watch just before the + dawning. It was perfectly plain to him what he must do. His dream had only given shape + to the ferment in his brain, a ferment never ceasing while his body slept. He must go + instantly to the Greek camp and warn Leonidas. If the Spartan did not trust him, no + matter, he had done his duty. If Leonidas slew him on the spot, again no matter, life + with an eternally gnawing conscience could be bought on too hard terms. He knew, as + though Zeus’s messenger Iris had spoken it, that Hermione had never believed him guilty, + that she had been in all things true to him. He could never betray her trust. </p> + <p> His head now was clear and calm. He arose, threw on his cloak, and buckled about his + waist a short sword. The Nubian boy that Mardonius had given him for a body-servant <pb n="232"/><anchor id="Pg232"/>awoke on his mat, and asked wonderingly <q>whither his + Lordship was going?</q> Glaucon informed him he must be at the front before daybreak, + and bade him remain behind and disturb no one. But the Athenian was not to execute his + design unhindered. As he passed out of the tent and into the night, where the morning + stars were burning, and where the first red was creeping upward from the sea, two + figures glided forth from the next pavilion. He knew them and shrank from them. They + were Artazostra and Roxana. </p> + <p> + <q>You go forth early, dearest Prexaspes,</q> spoke the Egyptian, throwing back her + veil, and even in the starlight he saw the anxious flash of her eyes, <q>does the battle + join so soon that you take so little sleep?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It joins early, lady,</q> spoke Glaucon, his wits wandering. In the intensity of his + purpose he had not thought of the partings with the people he must henceforth reckon + foes. He was sorely beset, when Roxana drew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Greeks will resist terribly,</q> she spoke. <q>We women dread the battle more + than you. Yours is the fierce gladness of the combat, ours only the waiting, the heavy + tidings, the sorrow. Therefore Artazostra and I could not sleep, but have been + watching together. You will of course be near Mardonius my brother. You will guard him + from all danger. Leonidas will resist fearfully when at bay. Ah! what is this?</q> + </p> + <p> In pressing closer she had discovered the Athenian wore no cuirass. </p> + <p> + <q>You will not risk the battle without armour?</q> was her cry. </p> + <p> + <q>I shall not need it, lady,</q> answered he, and only half conscious what he did, + stretched forth as if to put her away. Roxana shrank back, grieved and wondering, but + Artazostra seized his arm quickly. </p> + <pb n="233"/> + <anchor id="Pg233"/> + <p> + <q>What is this, Prexaspes? All is not well. Your manner is strange!</q> + </p> + <p> He shook her off, almost savagely. </p> + <p> + <q>Call me not Prexaspes,</q> he cried, not in Persian, but in Greek. <q>I am Glaucon of + Athens; as Glaucon I must live, as Glaucon die. No man—not though he desire it—can + disown the land that bore him. And if I dreamed I was a Persian, I wake to find myself + a Greek. Therefore forget me forever. I go to my own!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Prexaspes, my lover,</q>—Roxana, strong in fear and passion, clung about his girdle, + while again Artazostra seized him,—<q>last night I was in your arms. Last night you + kissed me. Are we not to be happy together? What is this you say?</q> + </p> + <p> He stood one instant silent, then shook himself and put them both aside with a + marvellous ease. </p> + <p> + <q>Forget my name,</q> he commanded. <q>If I have given you sorrow, I repent it. I go to + my own. Go you to yours. My place is with Leonidas—to save him, or more like to die + with him! Farewell!</q> + </p> + <p> He sprang away from them. He saw Roxana sink upon the ground. He heard Artazostra + calling to the horse-boys and the eunuchs,—perhaps she bade them to pursue. Once he + looked back, but never twice. He knew the watchwords, and all the sentries let him pass + by freely. With a feverish stride he traced the avenues of sleeping tents. Soon he was + at the outposts, where strong divisions of Cissian and Babylonian infantrymen were + slumbering under arms, ready for the attack the instant the uproar from the rear of the + pass told how Hydarnes had completed his circuit. Eos—<q>Rosy-Fingered Dawn</q>—was + just shimmering above the mist-hung peak of Mt. Telethrius in Eubœa across the bay when + Glaucon came to the last Persian outpost. The pickets <pb n="234"/><anchor id="Pg234"/>saluted with their lances, as he went by them, taking him for a high officer on a + reconnoissance before the onset. Next he was on the scene of the former battles. He + stumbled over riven shields, shattered spear butts, and many times over ghastlier + objects—objects yielding and still warm—dead men, awaiting the crows of the morrow. He + walked straight on, while the dawn strengthened and the narrow pass sprang into view, + betwixt mountain and morass. Then at last a challenge, not in Persian, but in round + clear Doric. </p> + <p> + <q>Halt! Who passes?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon held up his right hand, and advanced cautiously. Two men in heavy armour + approached, and threatened his breast with their lance points. </p> + <p> + <q>Who are you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A friend, a Hellene—my speech tells that. Take me to Leonidas. I’ve a story worth + telling.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> Master <q>Friend,</q> our general can’t be waked for + every deserter. We’ll call our decarch.</q> + </p> + <p> A shout brought the subaltern commanding the Greek outposts. He was a Spartan of less + sluggish wits than many of his breed, and presently believed Glaucon when he declared he + had reason in asking for Leonidas. </p> + <p> + <q>But your accent is Athenian?</q> asked the decarch, with wonderment. </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, Athenian,</q> assented Glaucon. </p> + <p> + <q>Curses on you! I thought no Athenian ever Medized. What business had <hi rend="italic">you</hi> in the Persian camp? Who of your countrymen are there save + the sons of Hippias?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not many,</q> rejoined the fugitive, not anxious to have the questions pushed home. </p> + <p> + <q>Well, to Leonidas you shall go, sir Athenian, and state your business. But you are + like to get a bearish welcome. Since your pretty Glaucon’s treason, our king has not + wasted much love even on repentant traitors.</q> + </p> + <pb n="235"/> + <anchor id="Pg235"/> + <p> With a soldier on either side, the deserter was marched within the barrier wall. + Another encampment, vastly smaller and less luxurious than the Persian, but of martial + orderliness, spread out along the pass. The Hellenes were just waking. Some were + breakfasting from helmets full of cold boiled peas, others buckled on the well-dinted + bronze cuirasses and greaves. Men stared at Glaucon as he was led by them. </p> + <p> + <q>A deserter they take to the chief,</q> ran the whisper, and a little knot of idle + Spartans trailed behind, when at last Glaucon’s guides halted him before a brown tent + barely larger than the others. </p> + <p> A man sat on a camp chest by the entrance, and was busy with an iron spoon eating <q>black broth</q><note place="foot">A pottage peculiar to Sparta, made of lumps of + meat, salt, and much vinegar.</note> from a huge kettle. In the dim light Glaucon + could just see that he wore a purple cloak flung over his black armour, and that the + helmet resting beside him was girt by a wreath of gold foil. </p> + <p> The two guards dropped their spears in salute. The man looked upward. </p> + <p> + <q>A deserter,</q> reported one of Glaucon’s mentors; <q>he says he has important + news.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Wait!</q> ordered the general, making the iron spoon clack steadily. </p> + <p> + <q>The weal of Hellas rests thereon. Listen!</q> pleaded the nervous Athenian. </p> + <p> + <q>Wait!</q> was the unruffled answer, and still the iron spoon went on plying. The + Spartan lifted a huge morsel from the pot, chewed it deliberately, then put the vessel + by. Next he inspected the newcomer from head to toe, then at last gave his permission. </p> + <p> + <q>Well?</q> + </p> + <pb n="236"/> + <anchor id="Pg236"/> + <p> Glaucon’s words were like a bursting torrent. </p> + <p> + <q>Fly, your Excellency! I’m from Xerxes’s camp. I was at the Persian council. The + mountain path is betrayed. Hydarnes and the guard are almost over it. They will fall + upon your rear. Fly, or you and all your men are trapped!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Well,</q> observed the Spartan, slowly, motioning for the deserter to cease, but + Glaucon’s fears made that impossible. </p> + <p> + <q>I say I was in Xerxes’s own tent. I was interpreter betwixt the king and the traitor. + I know all whereof I say. If you do not flee instantly, the blood of these men is on + your head.</q> + </p> + <p> Leonidas again scanned the deserter with piercing scrutiny, then flung a question. </p> + <p> + <q>Who are you?</q> + </p> + <p> The blood leaped into the Athenian’s cheeks. The tongue that had wagged so nimbly + clove in his mouth. He grew silent. </p> + <p> + <q>Who are you?</q> + </p> + <p> As the question was repeated, the scrutiny grew yet closer. The soldiers were pressing + around, one comrade leaning over another’s shoulder. Twenty saw the fugitive’s form + straighten as he stood in the morning twilight. </p> + <p> + <q>I am Glaucon of Athens, Isthmionices!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!</q> Leonidas’s jaw dropped for an instant. He showed no other astonishment, but + the listening Spartans raised a yell. </p> + <p> + <q>Death! Stone the traitor!</q> + </p> + <p> Leonidas, without a word, smote the man nearest to him with a spear butt. The soldiers + were silent instantly. Then the chief turned back to the deserter. </p> + <p> + <q>Why here?</q> + </p> + <pb n="237"/> + <anchor id="Pg237"/> + <p> Glaucon had never prayed for the gifts of Peitho, <q>Our Lady Persuasion,</q> more + than at that crucial moment. Arguments, supplications, protestations of innocence, + curses upon his unknown enemies, rushed to his lips together. He hardly realized what he + himself said. Only he knew that at the end the soldiers did not tug at their hilts as + before and scowl so threateningly, and Leonidas at last lifted his hand as if to bid him + cease. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi></q> grunted the chief. <q>So you wish me to believe you + a victim of fate, and trust your story? The pass is turned, you say? Masistes the seer + said the libation sputtered on the flame with ill-omen when he sacrificed this + morning. Then you come. The thing shall be looked into. Call the captains.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The locharchs and taxiarchs of the Greeks assembled. It was a brief and gloomy council + of war. While Euboulus, commanding the Corinthian contingent, was still questioning + whether the deserter was worthy of credence, a scout came running down Mt. Œta + confirming the worst. The cowardly Phocians watching the mountain trail had fled at the + first arrows of Hydarnes. It was merely a question of time before the Immortals would be + at Alpeni, the village in Leonidas’s rear. There was only one thing to say, and the + Spartan chief said it. </p> + <p> + <q>You must retreat.</q> + </p> + <p> The taxiarchs of the allied Hellenes under him were already rushing forth to their men + to bid them fly for dear life. Only one or two stayed by the tent, marvelling much to + observe that Leonidas gave no orders to his Lacedæmonians to join in the flight. On the + contrary, Glaucon, as he stood near, saw the general lift the discarded pot of broth and + explore it again with the iron spoon. </p> + <pb n="238"/> + <anchor id="Pg238"/> + <p> + <q>O Father Zeus,</q> cried the incredulous Corinthian leader. <q>Are you turned mad, + Leonidas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Time enough for all things,</q> returned the unmoved Spartan, continuing his + breakfast. </p> + <p> + <q>Time!</q> shouted Euboulus. <q>Have we not to flee on wings, or be cut off?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fly, then.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But you and your Spartans?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We will stay.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Stay? A handful against a million? Do I hear aright? What can you do?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Die.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The gods forbid! Suicide is a fearful end. No man should rush on destruction. What + requires you to perish?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Honour.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Honour! Have you not won glory enough by holding Xerxes’s whole power at bay two + days? Is not your life precious to Hellas? What is the gain?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glory to Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> Then in the red morning half-light, folding his big hands across his mailed chest, + Leonidas looked from one to another of the little circle. His voice was still in + unemotional gutturals when he delivered the longest speech of his life. </p> + <p> + <q>We of Sparta were ordered to defend this pass. The order shall be obeyed. The rest of + you must go away—all save the Thebans, whose loyalty I distrust. Tell Leotychides, my + colleague at Sparta, to care for Gorgo my wife and Pleistarchus my young son, and to + remember that <anchor id="corr238"/><corr sic="Themistocles,">Themistocles</corr> the Athenian loves Hellas and gives sage counsel. Pay + Strophius of Epidaurus the three hundred drachmæ I owe him for my horse. + Likewise—</q> + </p> + <p> A second breathless scout interrupted with the tidings that Hydarnes was on the last + stretches of his road. The <pb n="239"/><anchor id="Pg239"/>chief arose, drew the helmet + down across his face, and motioned with his spear. </p> + <p> + <q>Go!</q> he ordered. </p> + <p> The Corinthian would have seized his hand. He shook him off. At Leonidas’s elbow was + standing the trumpeter for his three hundred from Lacedæmon. </p> + <p> + <q>Blow!</q> commanded the chief. </p> + <p> The keen blast cut the air. The chief deliberately wrapped the purple mantle around + himself and adjusted the gold circlet over his helmet, for on the day of battle a + Lacedæmonian was wont to wear his best. And even as he waited there came to him out of + the midst of the panic-stricken, dissolving camp, one by one, tall men in armour, who + took station beside him—the men of Sparta who had abided steadfast while all others + prepared to flee, waiting for the word of the chief. </p> + <p> Presently they stood, a long black line, motionless, silent, whilst the other + divisions filed in swift fear past. Only the Thespians—let their names not be + forgotten—chose to share the Laconians’ glory and their doom and took their stand + behind the line of Leonidas. With them stood also the Thebans, but compulsion held them, + and they tarried merely to desert and pawn their honour for their lives. </p> + <p> More couriers. Hydarnes’s van was in sight of Alpeni now. The retreat of the + Corinthians, Tegeans, and other Hellenes became a run; only once Euboulus and his + fellow-captains turned to the silent warrior that stood leaning on his spear. </p> + <p> + <q>Are you resolved on madness, Leonidas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Chaire!</hi> Farewell!</q> was the only answer he gave them. + Euboulus sought no more, but faced another figure, hitherto almost forgotten in the + confusion of the retreat. </p> + <p> + <q>Haste, Master Deserter, the Barbarians will give you <pb n="240"/><anchor id="Pg240"/>an overwarm welcome, and you are no Spartan; save yourself!</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon did not stir. </p> + <p> + <q>Do you not see that it is impossible?</q> he answered, then strode across to + Leonidas. <q>I must stay.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Are you also mad? You are young—</q> The good-hearted Corinthian strove to drag him + into the retreating mob. </p> + <p> Glaucon sprang away from him and addressed the silent general. </p> + <p> + <q>Shall not Athens remain by Sparta, if Sparta will accept?</q> + </p> + <p> He could see Leonidas’s cold eyes gleam out through the slits in his helmet. The + general reached forth his hand. </p> + <p> + <q>Sparta accepts,</q> called he; <q>they have lied concerning your Medizing! And you, + Euboulus, do not filch from him his glory.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus pity you!</q> cried Euboulus, running at last. One of the Spartans brought to + Glaucon the heavy hoplite’s armour and the ponderous spear and shield. He took his place + in the line with the others. Leonidas stalked to the right wing of his scant array, the + post of honour and of danger. The Thespians closed up behind. Shield was set to shield. + Helmets were drawn low. The lance points projected in a bristling hedge in front. All + was ready. </p> + <p> The general made no speech to fire his men. There was no wailing, no crying to the + gods, no curses upon the tardy ephors at Lacedæmon who had deferred sending their whole + strong levy instead of the pitiful three hundred. Sparta had sent this band to hold the + pass. They had gone, knowing she might require the supreme sacrifice. Leonidas had + spoken for all his men. <q>Sparta demanded it.</q> What more was to be said? </p> + <p> As for Glaucon he could think of nothing save—in the <pb n="241"/><anchor id="Pg241"/>language of his people—<q>this was a beautiful manner and place in which to die.</q> + <q>Count no man happy until he meets a happy end,</q> so had said Solon, and of all ends + what could be more fortunate than this? Euboulus would tell in Athens, in all Hellas, + how he had remained with Leonidas and maintained Athenian honour when Corinthian and + Tegean turned away. From <q>Glaucon the Traitor</q> he would be raised to <q>Glaucon the + Hero.</q> Hermione, Democrates, and all others he loved would flush with pride and no + more with shame when men spoke of him. Could a life of a hundred years add to his glory + more than he could win this day? </p> + <p> + <q>Blow!</q> commanded Leonidas again, and again pealed the trumpet. The line moved + beyond the wall toward Xerxes’s camp in the open beside the Asopus. Why wait for + Hydarnes’s coming? They would meet the king of the Aryans face to face and show him the + terrible manner in which the men of Lacedæmon knew how to die. </p> + <p> As they passed from the shadow of the mountain, the sun sprang over the hills of + Eubœa, making fire of the bay and bathing earth and heavens with glory. In their rear + was already shouting. Hydarnes had reached his goal at Alpeni. All retreat was ended. + The thin line swept onward. Before them spread the whole host of the Barbarian as far as + the eye could reach,—a tossing sea of golden shields, scarlet surcoats, silver + lance-heads,—awaiting with its human billows to engulf them. The Laconians halted just + beyond bow shot. The line locked tighter. Instinctively every man pressed closer to his + comrade. Then before the eyes of Xerxes’s host, which kept silence, marvelling, the + handful broke forth with their pæan. They threw their well-loved charging song of + Tyrtæus in the very face of the king. </p> + <pb n="242"/> + <anchor id="Pg242"/> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Press the charge, O sons of Sparta!</q></l> + <l>Ye are sons of men born free:</l> + <l>Press the charge; ’tis where the shields lock,</l> + <l>That your sires would have you be!</l> + <l>Honour’s cheaply sold for life,</l> + <l>Press the charge, and join the strife:</l> + <l>Let the coward cling to breath,</l> + <l>Let the base shrink back from death,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none"><hi rend="italic">Press the charge, let cravens + flee!</hi></q></l> + </lg> + <p> Leonidas’s spear pointed to the ivory throne, around which and him that sat thereon in + blue and scarlet glittered the Persian grandees. </p> + <p> + <q>Onward!</q> + </p> + <p> Immortal ichor seemed in the veins of every Greek. They burst into one shout. </p> + <p> + <q>The king! The king!</q> + </p> + <p> A roar from countless drums, horns, and atabals answered from the Barbarians, as + across the narrow plain-land charged the three hundred—and one. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="22" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="243"/> + <anchor id="Pg243"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXII</head> + <head type="sub"> MARDONIUS GIVES A PROMISE </head> + <p> + <q>Ugh—the dogs died hard, but they are dead,</q> grunted Xerxes, still shivering on + the ivory throne. The battle had raged disagreeably close to him. </p> + <p> + <q>They are dead; even so perish all of your Eternity’s enemies,</q> rejoined Mardonius, + close by. The bow-bearer himself was covered with blood and dust. A Spartan sword had + grazed his forehead. He had exposed himself recklessly, as well he might, for it had + taken all the efforts of the Persian captains, as well as the ruthless laying of whips + over the backs of their men, to make the king’s battalions face the frenzied Hellenes, + until the closing in of Hydarnes from the rear gave the battle its inevitable ending. </p> + <p> Xerxes was victorious. The gate of Hellas was unlocked. The mountain wall of Œta would + hinder him no more. But the triumph had been bought with a price which made Mardonius + and every other general in the king’s host shake his head. </p> + <p> + <q>Lord,</q> reported Hystaspes, commander of the Scythians, <q>one man in every seven + of my band is slain, and those the bravest.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Lord,</q> spoke Artabazus, who led the Parthians, <q>my men swear the Hellenes were + possessed by <hi rend="italic">dævas</hi>. They dare not approach even their dead bodies.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Lord,</q> asked Hydarnes, <q>will it please your Eternity to <pb n="244"/><anchor id="Pg244"/>appoint five other officers in the Life Guard, for of my ten lieutenants + over the Immortals five are slain?</q> + </p> + <p> But the heaviest news no man save Mardonius dared to bring to the king. </p> + <p> + <q>May it please your Omnipotence,</q> spoke the bow-bearer, <q>to order the funeral + pyres of cedar and precious oils to be prepared for your brothers Abrocomes and + Hyperanthes, and command the Magians to offer prayers for the repose of their <hi rend="italic">fravashis</hi> in Garonmana the Blessed, for it pleased Mazda the + Great they should fall before the Hellenes.</q> + </p> + <p> Xerxes waved his hand in assent. It was hard to be the <q>Lord of the World,</q> and + be troubled by such little things as the deaths of a few thousand servants, or even of + two of his numerous half-brethren, hard at least on a day like this when he had seen his + desire over his enemies. </p> + <p> + <q>They shall be well avenged,</q> he announced with kingly dignity, then smiled with + satisfaction when they brought him the shield and helmet of Leonidas, the madman, who + had dared to contemn his power. But all the generals who stood by were grim and sad. One + more such victory would bring the army close to destruction. </p> + <p> Xerxes’s happiness, however, was not to be clouded. From childish fears he had passed + to childish exultation. </p> + <p> + <q>Have you found the body also of this crazed Spartan?</q> he inquired of the cavalry + officer who had brought the trophies. </p> + <p> + <q>As you say, Omnipotence,</q> rejoined the captain, bowing in the saddle. </p> + <p> + <q>Good, then. Let the head be struck off and the trunk fastened on a cross that all may + see it. And you, Mardonius,</q> addressing the bow-bearer, <q>ride back to the hillock + where these madmen made their last stand. If you discover among the corpses any who + yet breathe, bring them hither <pb n="245"/><anchor id="Pg245"/>to me, that they may + learn the futility of resisting my might.</q> + </p> + <p> The bow-bearer shrugged his shoulders. He loved a fair battle and fair treatment of + valiant foes. The dishonouring of the corpse of Leonidas was displeasing to more than + one high-minded Aryan nobleman. But the king had spoken, and was to be obeyed. Mardonius + rode back to the hillock at the mouth of the pass, where the Hellenes had retired—after + their spears were broken and they could resist only with swords, stones, or naked + hands—for the final death grip. </p> + <p> The slain Barbarians lay in heaps. The Greeks had been crushed at the end, not in + close strife, but by showers of arrows. Mardonius dismounted and went with a few + followers among the dead. Plunderers were already at their harpy work of stripping the + slain. The bow-bearer chased them angrily away. He oversaw the task which his attendants + performed as quickly as possible. Their toil was not quite fruitless. Three or four + Thespians were still breathing, a few more of the helots who had attended Leonidas’s + Spartans, but not one of the three hundred but seemed dead, and that too with many + wounds. </p> + <p> Snofru, Mardonius’s Egyptian body-servant, rose from the ghastly work and grinned with + his ivories at his master. </p> + <p> + <q>All the rest are slain, Excellency.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You have not searched that pile yonder.</q> + </p> + <p> Snofru and his helpers resumed their toil. Presently the Egyptian dragged from a + bloody heap a body, and raised a yell. <q>Another one—he breathes!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>There’s life in him. He shall not be left to the crows. Take him forth and lay him + with the others that are living.</q> + </p> + <p> It was not easy to roll the three corpses from their feebly stirring comrade. When + this was done, the stricken man <pb n="246"/><anchor id="Pg246"/>was still encased in + his cuirass and helmet. They saw only that his hands were slim and white. </p> + <p> + <q>With care,</q> ordered the humane bow-bearer, <q>he is a young man. I heard Leonidas + took only older men on his desperate venture. Here, rascals, do you not see he is + smothered in that helmet? Lift him up, unbuckle the cuirass. By Mithra, he has a + strong and noble form! Now the helmet—uncover the face.</q> + </p> + <p> But as the Egyptian did so, his master uttered a shout of mingled wonderment and + terror. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon—Prexaspes, and in Spartan armour!</q> + </p> + <p> What had befallen Glaucon was in no wise miraculous. He had borne his part in the + battle until the Hellenes fell back to the fatal hillock. Then in one of the fierce + onsets which the Barbarians attempted before they had recourse to the simpler and less + glorious method of crushing their foes by arrow fire, a Babylonian’s war club had dashed + upon his helmet. The stout bronze had saved him from wound, but under the stroke + strength and consciousness had left him in a flash. The moment after he fell, the + soldier beside him had perished by a javelin, and falling above the Athenian made his + body a ghastly shield against the surge and trampling of the battle. Glaucon lay + scathless but senseless through the final catastrophe. Now consciousness was returning, + but he would have died of suffocation save for Snofru’s timely aid. </p> + <p> It was well for the Athenian that Mardonius was a man of ready devices. He had not + seen Glaucon at his familiar post beside the king, but had presumed the Hellene had + remained at the tents with the women, unwilling to watch the destruction of his people. + In the rush and roar of the battle the messenger Artazostra had sent her husband telling + of <q>Prexaspes’s</q> flight had never reached him. But Mar<pb n="247"/><anchor id="Pg247"/>donius could divine what had happened. The swallow must fly south in the + autumn. The Athenian had returned to his own. The bow-bearer’s wrath at his protégé’s + desertion was overmastered by the consuming fear that tidings of Prexaspes’s disloyalty + would get to the king. Xerxes’s wrath would be boundless. Had he not proffered his new + subject all the good things of his empire? And to be rewarded thus! Glaucon’s recompense + would be to be sawn asunder or flung into a serpent’s cage. </p> + <p> Fortunately Mardonius had only his own personal followers around him. He could count + on their discreet loyalty. Vouchsafing no explanations, but bidding them say not a word + of their discovery on their heads, he ordered Snofru and his companions to make a litter + of cloaks and lances, to throw away Glaucon’s tell-tale Spartan armour, and bear him + speedily to Artazostra’s tents. The stricken man was groaning feebly, moving his limbs, + muttering incoherently. The sight of Xerxes driving in person to inspect the + battle-field made Mardonius hasten the litter away, while he remained to parley with the + king. </p> + <p> + <q>So only a few are alive?</q> asked Xerxes, leaning over the silver rail of the + chariot, and peering on the upturned faces of the dead which were nearly trampled by his + horses. <q>Are any sound enough to set before me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>None, your Eternity; even the handful that live are desperately wounded. We have laid + them yonder.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Let them wait, then; all around here seem dead. Ugly hounds!</q> muttered the + monarch, still peering down; <q>even in death they seem to grit their teeth and defy me. + Faugh! The stench is already terrible. It is just as well they are dead. Angra-Mainyu + surely possessed them to fight so! It cannot be there are many more who can fight like + this left in Hellas, though Demaratus, the Spartan outlaw, says <pb n="248"/><anchor id="Pg248"/>there are. Drive away, Pitiramphes—and you, Mardonius, ride beside me. + I cannot abide those corpses. Where is my handkerchief? The one with the Sabæan nard + on it. I will hold it to my nose. Most refreshing! And I had a question to ask—I have + forgotten what.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whether news has come from the fleets before Artemisium?</q> spoke Mardonius, + galloping close to the wheel. </p> + <p> + <q>Not that. Ah! I remember. Where was Prexaspes? I did not see him near me. Did he stay + in the tents while these mad men were destroyed? It was not loyal, yet I forgive him. + After all, he was once a Hellene.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>May it please your Eternity,</q>—Mardonius chose his words carefully,—a Persian + always loved the truth, and lies to the king were doubly impious,—<q>Prexaspes was not + in the tents but in the thick of the battle.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!</q> Xerxes smiled pleasantly, <q>it was right loyal of him to show his devotion + to me thus. And he acquitted himself valiantly?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Most valiantly, Omnipotence.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Doubly good. Yet he ought to have stayed near me. If he had been a true Persian, he + would not have withdrawn from the person of the king, even to display his prowess in + combat. Still he did well. Where is he?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I regret to tell your Eternity he was desperately wounded, though your servant hopes + not unto death. He is even now being taken to my tents.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Where that pretty dancer, your sister, will play the surgeon—ha!</q> cried the king. + <q>Well, tell him his Lord is grateful. He shall not be forgotten. If his wounds do + not mend, call in my body-physicians. And I will send him something in gratitude—a + golden cimeter, perhaps, or it may be another cream Nisæan charger.</q> + </p> + <p> A general rode up to the chariot with his report, and <pb n="249"/><anchor id="Pg249"/>Mardonius was suffered to gallop to his own tents, blessing Mazda; he had saved the + Athenian, yet had not told a lie. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The ever ready eunuchs of Artazostra ran to tell Mardonius of the Hellene’s strange + desertion, even before their lord dismounted. Mardonius was not astonished now, however + much the tidings pained him. The Greek had escaped more than trifling wounds; ten days + would see him sound and hale, but the stunning blow had left his wits still wandering. + He had believed himself dead at first, and demanded why Charon took so long with his + ferry-boat. He had not recognized Roxana, but spoke one name many times—<q>Hermione!</q> And the Egyptian, understanding too well, went to her own tent weeping + bitterly. </p> + <p> + <q>He has forsaken us,</q> spoke Artazostra, harshly, to her husband. <q>He has paid + kindness with disloyalty. He has chosen the lot of his desperate race rather than + princely state amongst the Aryans. Your sister is in agony.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And I with her,</q> returned the bow-bearer, gravely, <q>but let us not forget one + thing—this man has saved our lives. And all else weighs small in the balance.</q> + </p> + <p> When Mardonius went to him, Glaucon was again himself. He lay on bright pillows, his + forehead swathed in linen. His eyes were unnaturally bright. </p> + <p> + <q>You know what has befallen?</q> asked Mardonius. </p> + <p> + <q>They have told me. I almost alone of all the Hellenes have not been called to the + heroes’ Elysium, to the glory of Theseus and Achilles, the glory that shall not die. + Yet I am content. For plainly the Olympians have destined that I should see and do + great things in Hellas, otherwise they would not have kept me back from Leonidas’s + glory.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian’s voice rang confidently. None of the halting weakness remained that had + made it falter once when <pb n="250"/><anchor id="Pg250"/>Mardonius asked him, <q>Will + your Hellenes fight?</q> He spoke as might one returned crowned with the victor’s + laurel. </p> + <p> + <q>And wherefore are you grown so bold?</q> The bow-bearer was troubled as he looked on + him. <q>Nobly you and your handful fought. We Persians honour the brave, and full honour + we give to you. But was it not graven upon the stars what should befall? Were not + Leonidas, his men, and you all mad—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, yes! divinely mad.</q> Brighter still grew the Athenian’s eyes. <q>For that + moment of exultation when we charged to meet the king I would again pay a + lifetime.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yet the gateway of Hellas is unlocked. Your bravest are fallen. Your land is + defenceless. What else can be written hereafter save, <q>The Hellenes strove with + fierce courage to fling back Xerxes. Their valour was foolishness. The god turned + against them. The king prevailed.</q></q> + </p> + <p> But Glaucon met the Persian’s glance with one more bold. </p> + <p> + <q>No, Mardonius, good friend, for do not think that we must be foes one to another + because our people are at war,—I can answer you with ease. Leonidas you have slain, + and his handful, and you have pierced the mountain wall of Œta, and no doubt your + king’s host will march even to Athens. But do not dream Hellas is conquered by + striding over her land. Before you shall possess the land you must first possess the + men. And I say to you, Athens is still left, and Sparta left, free and strong, with + men whose hearts and hands can never fail. I doubted once. But now I doubt no more. + And our gods will fight for us. Your Ahura-Mazda has still to prevail over Zeus the + Thunderer and Athena of the Pure Heart.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you?</q> asked the Persian. </p> + <pb n="251"/> + <anchor id="Pg251"/> + <p> + <q>And as for me, I know I have cast away by my own act all the good things you and your + king would fain bestow upon me. Perhaps I deserve death at your hands. I will never + plead for respite, but this I know, whether I live or die, it shall be as Glaucon of + Athens who owns no king but Zeus, no loyalty save to the land that bore him.</q> + </p> + <p> There was stillness in the tent. The wounded man sank back on the pillows, breathing + deep, closing his eyes, expectant almost of a burst of wrath from the Persian. But + Mardonius answered without trace of anger. </p> + <p> + <q>Friend, your words cut keenly, and your boasts are high. Only the Most High knoweth + whether you boast aright. Yet this I say, that much as I desire your friendship, would + see you my brother, even,—you know that,—I dare not tell you you do wholly wrong. A + man is given one country and one manner of faith in God. He does not choose them. I + was born to serve the lord of the Aryans, and to spread the triumphs of Mithra the + Glorious, and you were born in Athens. I would it were otherwise. Artazostra and I + would fain have made you Persian like ourselves. My sister loves you. Yet we cannot + strive against fate. Will you go back to your own people and share their lot, however + direful?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Since life is given me, I will.</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius stepped to the bedside and gave the Athenian his right hand. </p> + <p> + <q>At the island you saved my life and that of my best beloved. Let it never be said + that Mardonius, son of Gobryas, is ungrateful. To-day, in some measure, I have repaid + the debt I owe. If you will have it so, as speedily as your strength returns and + opportunity offers I will return you to your people. And amongst them may your own + gods show you favour, for you will have none from ours!</q> + </p> + <pb n="252"/> + <anchor id="Pg252"/> + <p> Glaucon took the proffered hand in silent gratitude. He was still very weak and rested + on the pillows, breathing hard. The bow-bearer went out to his wife and his sister and + told his promise. There was little to be said. The Athenian must go his path, and they + go theirs, unless he were to be handed over to Xerxes to die a death of torments. And + not even Roxana, keenly as pierced her sorrow, would think of that. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="23" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="253"/> + <anchor id="Pg253"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXIII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE DARKEST HOUR </head> + <p> A city of two hundred thousand awaiting a common sentence of death,—such seemed the + doom of Athens. </p> + <p> Every morning the golden majesty of the sun rose above the wall of Hymettus, but few + could lift their hands to Lord Helios and give praise for another day of light. <q>Each + sunrise brings Xerxes nearer.</q> The bravest forgot not that. </p> + <p> Yet Athens was never more truly the <q>Violet-Crowned City</q> than on these last days + before the fearful advent. The sun at morn on Hymettus, the sun at night on Daphni, the + nightingales and cicadas in the olives by Cephissus, the hum of bees on the sweet thyme + of the mountain, the purple of the hills, the blue and the fire of the bay, the merry + tinkle of the goat bells upon the rocks, the laugh of little children in the + streets—all these made Athens fair, but could not take the cloud from the hearts of the + people. </p> + <p> Trade was at standstill in the Agora. The most careless frequented the temples. Old + foes composed their cases before the arbitrator. The courts were closed, but there was + meeting after meeting in the Pnyx, with incessant speeches on one theme—how Athens must + resist to the bitter end. </p> + <p> And why should not the end be bitter? Argos and Crete had Medized. Corcyra promised + and did nothing. Thebes was weakening. Thessaly had sent earth and water. Corinth, + Ægina, and a few lesser states were moderately loyal, but great Sparta only + procrastinated and despatched no help <pb n="254"/><anchor id="Pg254"/>to her Athenian + ally. So every day the Persian thunder-cloud was darkening. </p> + <p> But one man never faltered, nor suffered others about him to falter,—Themistocles. + The people heard him gladly—he would never talk of defeat. He had a thousand reasons + why the invader should be baffled, from a convenient hexameter in old Bacis’s oracle + book, up to the fact that the Greeks used the longest spears. If he found it weary work + looking the crowding peril in the face and smiling still, he never confessed it. His + friends would marvel at his serenity. Only when they saw him sit silent, saw his brows + knit, his hand comb at his beard, they knew his inexhaustible brain was weaving the web + which should ensnare the lord of the Aryans. </p> + <p> Thus day after day—while men thought dark things in their hearts. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Hermippus had come down to his city house from Eleusis, and with him his wife and + daughter. The Eleusinian was very busy. He was a member of the Areopagus, the old + council of ex-archons, an experienced body that found much to do. Hermippus had strained + his own resources to provide shields for the hoplites. He was constantly with + Themistocles, which implied being much with Democrates. The more he saw of the young + orator, the better the Eleusinian liked him. True, not every story ran to Democrates’s + credit, but Hermippus knew the world, and could forgive a young man if he had + occasionally spent a jolly night. Democrates seemed to have forsworn Ionian harp-girls + now. His patriotism was self-evident. The Eleusinian saw in him a most desirable + protector in the perils of war for Hermione and her child. Hermione’s dislike for her + husband’s destroyer was natural,—nay, in bounds, laudable,—but one must not <pb n="255"/><anchor id="Pg255"/>give way too much to women’s phantasies. The lady was + making a Cyclops of Democrates by sheer imagination; an interview would dispel her + prejudices. Therefore Hermippus planned, and his plan was not hard to execute. </p> + <p> On the day the fleet sailed to Artemisium, Hermione went with her mother to the + havens, as all the city went, to wish godspeed to the <q>wooden wall</q> of Hellas. </p> + <p> One hundred and twenty-seven triremes were to go forth, and three and fifty to follow, + bearing the best and bravest of Athens with them. Themistocles was in absolute command, + and perhaps in his heart of hearts Democrates was not mournful if it lay out of his + power to do a second ill-turn to his country. </p> + <p> It was again summer, and again such a day as when Glaucon with glad friends had rowed + toward Salamis. The Saronian bay flashed fairest azure. The scattered isles and the + headlands of Argolis rose in clear beauty. The city had emptied itself. Mothers hung on + the necks of sons as the latter strode toward Peiræus; friends clasped hands for the + last time as he who remained promised him who went that the wife and little ones should + never be forgotten. Only Hermione, as she stood on the hill of Munychia above the triple + havens, shed no tear. The ship bearing her all was gone long since. Themistocles would + never lead it back. Hermippus was at the quay in Peiræus, taking leave of the admiral. + Old Cleopis held the babe as Hermione stood by her mother. The younger woman had + suffered her gaze to wander to far Ægina, where a featherlike cloud hung above the + topmost summit of the isle, when her mother’s voice called her back. </p> + <p> + <q>They go.</q> + </p> + <p> A line of streamers blew from the foremast of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> as + the piper on the flag-ship gave the time to the oars. The triple line of blades, pumiced + white, splashed with a <pb n="256"/><anchor id="Pg256"/>steady rhythm. The long black + hull glided away. The trailing line of consorts swiftly followed. From the hill and the + quays a shout uprose from the thousands, to be answered by the fleet,—a cheer or a + prayer to sea-ruling Poseidon those who gave it hardly knew. The people stood silent + till the last dark hull crept around the southern headland; then, still in silence, the + multitudes dissolved. The young and the strong had gone from them. For Athens this was + the beginning of the war. </p> + <p> Hermione and Lysistra awaited Hermippus before setting homeward, but the Eleusinian + was delayed. The fleet had vanished. The havens were empty. In Cleopis’s arms little + Phœnix wept. His mother was anxious to be gone, when she was surprised to see a figure + climbing the almost deserted slope. A moment more and she was face to face with + Democrates, who advanced outstretching his hand and smiling. </p> + <p> The orator wore the dress of his new office of strategus. The purple-edged cloak, the + light helmet wreathed with myrtle, the short sword at his side, all became him well. If + there were deeper lines about his face than on the day Hermione last saw him, even an + enemy would confess a leader of the Athenians had cause to be thoughtful. He was + cordially greeted by Lysistra and seemed not at all abashed that Hermione gave only a + sullen nod. From the ladies he turned with laughter to Cleopis and her burden. </p> + <p> + <q>A new Athenian!</q> spoke he, lightly, <q>and I fear Xerxes will have been chased + away before he has a chance to prove his valour. But fear not, there will be more + brave days in store.</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione shook her head, ill-pleased. </p> + <p> + <q>Blessed be Hera, my babe is too young to know aught of <pb n="257"/><anchor id="Pg257"/>wars. And if we survive this one, will not just Zeus spare us from + further bloodshed?</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates, without answering, approached the nurse, and Phœnix—for reasons best + known to himself—ceased lamenting and smiled up in the orator’s face. </p> + <p> + <q>His mother’s features and eyes,</q> cried Democrates. <q>I swear it—ay, by all + Athena’s owls—that young Hermes when he lay in Maia’s cave on Mt. Cylene was not + finer or lustier than he. His mother’s face and eyes, I say.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>His father’s,</q> corrected Hermione. <q>Is not his name Phœnix? In him will not + Glaucon the Beautiful live again? Will he not grow to man’s estate to avenge his + murdered father?</q> The lady spoke without passion, but with a cold bitterness that + made Democrates cease from smiling. He turned away from the babe. </p> + <p> + <q>Forgive me, dear lady,</q> he answered her, <q>I am wiser at ruling the Athenians + than at ruling children, but I see nothing of Glaucon about the babe, though much of + his beautiful mother.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You had once a better memory, Democrates,</q> said Hermione, reproachfully. </p> + <p> + <q>I do not understand your Ladyship.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I mean that Glaucon has been dead one brief year. Can you forget <hi rend="italic">his</hi> face in so short a while?</q> + </p> + <p> But here Lysistra interposed with all good intent. </p> + <p> + <q>You are fond and foolish, Hermione, and like all young mothers are enraged if all the + world does not see his father’s image in their first-born.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates knows what I would say,</q> said the younger woman, soberly. </p> + <p> + <q>Since your Ladyship is pleased to speak in riddles and I am no seer nor + oracle-monger, I must confess I cannot follow. But we will contend no more concerning + little <pb n="258"/><anchor id="Pg258"/>Phœnix. Enough that he will grow up fair as + the Delian Apollo and an unspeakable joy to his mother.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Her only joy,</q> was Hermione’s icy answer. <q>Wrap up the child, Cleopis. My father + is coming. It is a long walk home to the city.</q> + </p> + <p> With a rustle of white Hermione went down the slope in advance of her mother. + Hermippus and Lysistra were not pleased. Plainly their daughter kept all her prejudice + against Democrates. Her cold contempt was more disappointing even than open fury. </p> + <p> Once at home Hermione held little Phœnix long to her heart and wept over him. For the + sake of her dead husband’s child, if for naught else, how could she suffer them to give + her to Democrates? That the orator had destroyed Glaucon in black malice had become a + corner-stone in her belief. She could at first give for it only a woman’s reason—blind + intuition. She could not discuss her conviction with her mother or with any save a + strange confidant—Phormio. </p> + <p> She had met the fishmonger in the Agora once when she went with the slaves to buy a + mackerel. The auctioneer had astonished everybody by knocking down to her a noble fish + an obol under price, then under pretext of showing her a rare Bœotian eel got her aside + into his booth and whispered a few words that made the red and white come and go from + her cheeks, after which the lady’s hand went quickly to her purse, and she spoke quick + words about <q>the evening</q> and <q>the garden gate.</q> + </p> + <p> Phormio refused the drachma brusquely, but kept the tryst. Cleopis had the key to the + garden, and would contrive anything for her mistress—especially as all Athens knew + Phormio was harmless save with his tongue. That evening for the first time Hermione + heard the true story of Glaucon’s escape by the <name type="ship">Solon</name>, but when + the fishmonger paused she hung down her head closer. </p> + <pb n="259"/> + <anchor id="Pg259"/> + <p> + <q>You saved him, then? I bless you. But was the sea more merciful than the + executioner?</q> + </p> + <p> The fishmonger let his voice fall lower. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates is unhappy. Something weighs on his mind. He is afraid.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of what?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Bias his slave came to see me again last night. Many of his master’s doings have been + strange to him. Many are riddles still, but one thing at last is plain. Hiram has been + to see Democrates once more, despite the previous threats. Bias listened. He could not + understand everything, but he heard Lycon’s name passed many times, then one thing he + caught clearly. <q><hi rend="italic">The Babylonish carpet-seller was the Prince + Mardonius.</hi></q> + <q>The Babylonian fled on the <name type="ship">Solon</name>.</q> + <q>The Prince is safe in Sardis.</q> If Mardonius could escape the storm and wreck, + why not Glaucon, a king among swimmers?</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione clapped her hands to her head. </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t torture me. I’ve long since trodden out hope. Why has he sent me no word in all + these months of pain?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It is not the easiest thing to get a letter across the Ægean in these days of roaring + war.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I dare not believe it. What else did Bias hear?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Very little. Hiram was urging something. Democrates always said, <q>Impossible.</q> + Hiram went away with a very sour grin. However, Democrates caught Bias lurking.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And flogged him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No, Bias ran into the street and cried out he would flee to the Temple of Theseus, + the slave’s sanctuary, and demand that the archon sell him to a kinder master. Then + suddenly Democrates forgave him and gave him five drachmæ to say no more about it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And so Bias at once told you?</q> Hermione could not for<pb n="260"/><anchor id="Pg260"/>bear a smile, but her gesture was of desperation. <q>O Father Zeus—only + the testimony of a slave to lean on, I a weak woman and Democrates one of the chief + men in Athens! O for strength to wring out all the bitter truth!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace, <hi rend="italic">kyria</hi>,</q> said Phormio, not ungently, <q>Aletheia, + Mistress Truth, is a patient dame, but she says her word at last. And you see that + hope is not quite dead.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I dare not cherish it. If I were but a man!</q> repeated Hermione. But she thanked + Phormio many times, would not let him refuse her money, and bade him come often again + and bring her all the Agora gossip about the war. <q>For we are friends,</q> she + concluded; <q>you and I are the only persons who hold Glaucon innocent in all the world. + And is that not tie enough?</q> + </p> + <p> So Phormio came frequently, glad perhaps to escape the discipline of his spouse. Now + he brought a rumour of Xerxes’s progress, now a bit of Bias’s tattling about his master. + The talebearing counted for little, but went to make Hermione’s conviction like adamant. + Every night she would speak over Phœnix as she held him whilst he slept. </p> + <p> + <q>Grow fast, <hi rend="italic">makaire</hi>, grow strong, for there is work for you to + do! Your father cries, <q>Avenge me well,</q> even from Hades.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> After the departure of the fleet Athens seemed silent as the grave. On the streets one + met only slaves and graybeards. In the Agora the hucksters’ booths were silent, but + little groups of white-headed men sat in the shaded porticos and watched eagerly for the + appearing of the archon before the government house to read the last despatch of the + progress of Xerxes. The Pnyx was deserted. The gymnasia were closed. The more + superstitious scanned the heavens for a lucky or unlucky flight of hawks. The priest<pb n="261"/><anchor id="Pg261"/>esses sang litanies all day and all night on the + Acropolis where the great altar to Athena smoked with victims continually. At last, + after the days of uncertainty and wavering rumour, came surer tidings of battles. </p> + <p> + <q>Leonidas is fighting at Thermopylæ. The fleets are fighting at Artemisium, off Eubœa. + The first onsets of the Barbarians have failed, but nothing is decided.</q> + </p> + <p> This was the substance, and tantalizingly meagre. And the strong army of Sparta and + her allies still tarried at the Isthmus instead of hasting to aid the pitiful handful at + Thermopylæ. Therefore the old men wagged their heads, the altars were loaded with + victims, and the women wept over their children. </p> + <p> So ended the first day after news came of the fighting. The second was like it—only + more tense. Hermione never knew that snail called time to creep more slowly. Never had + she chafed more against the iron custom which commanded Athenian gentlewomen to keep, + tortoise-like, at home in days of distress and tumult. On the evening of the second day + came once more the dusty courier. Leonidas was holding the gate of Hellas. The + Barbarians had perished by thousands. At Artemisium, Themistocles and the allied Greek + admirals were making head against the Persian armadas. But still nothing was decided. + Still the Spartan host lingered at the Isthmus, and Leonidas must fight his battle + alone. The sun sank that night with tens of thousands wishing his car might stand fast. + At gray dawn Athens was awake and watching. Men forgot to eat, forgot to drink. One food + would have contented—news! </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> It was about noon—<q>the end of market time,</q> had there been any market then at + Athens—when Hermione knew by instinct that news had come from the battle and that it + <pb n="262"/><anchor id="Pg262"/>was evil. She and her mother had sat since dawn by + the upper window, craning forth their heads up the street toward the Agora, where they + knew all couriers must hasten. Along the street in all the houses other women were + peering forth also. When little Phœnix cried in his cradle, his mother for the first + time in his life almost angrily bade him be silent. Cleopis, the only one of the + fluttering servants who went placidly about the wonted tasks, vainly coaxed her young + mistress with figs and a little wine. Hermippus was at the council. The street, save for + the leaning heads of the women, was deserted. Then suddenly came a change. </p> + <p> First a man ran toward the Agora, panting,—his himation blew from his shoulders, he + never stopped to recover it. Next shouts, scattered in the beginning, then louder, and + coming not as a roar but as a wailing, rising, falling like the billows of the howling + sea,—as if the thousands in the market-place groaned in sore agony. Shrill and hideous + they rose, and a hand of ice fell on the hearts of the listening women. Then more + runners, until the street seemed alive by magic, slaves and old men all crowding to the + Agora. And still the shout and ever more dreadful. The women leaned from the windows and + cried vainly to the trampling crowd below. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell us! In the name of Athena, tell us!</q> No answer for long, till at last a + runner came not toward the Agora but from it. They had hardly need to hear what he was + calling. </p> + <p> + <q>Leonidas is slain. Thermopylæ is turned! Xerxes is advancing!</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione staggered back from the lattice. In the cradle Phœnix awoke; seeing his + mother bending over him, he crowed cheerily and flung his chubby fists in her face. She + caught him up and again could not fight the tears away. </p> + <pb n="263"/> + <anchor id="Pg263"/> + <p> + <q>Glaucon! Glaucon!</q> she prayed,—for her husband was all but a deity in her + sight,—<q>hear us wherever you are, even if in the blessed land of Rhadamanthus. Take + us thither, your child and me, for there is no peace or shelter left on earth!</q> + </p> + <p> Then, seeing her panic-stricken women flying hither and thither like witless birds, + her patrician blood asserted itself. She dashed the drops from her eyes and joined her + mother in quieting the maids. Whatever there was to hope or fear, their fate would not + be lightened by wild moaning. Soon the direful wailing from the Agora ceased. A blue + flag waved over the Council House, a sign that the <q>Five Hundred</q> had been called + in hurried session. Simultaneously a dense column of smoke leaped up from the + market-place. The archons had ordered the hucksters’ booths to be burned, as a signal to + all Attica that the worst had befallen. </p> + <p> After inexpressibly long waiting Phormio came, then Hermippus, to tell all they knew. + Leonidas had perished gloriously. His name was with the immortals, but the mountain wall + of Hellas had been unlocked. No Spartan army was in Bœotia. The bravest of Athens were + in the fleet. The easy Attic passes of Phyle and Decelea could never be defended. + Nothing could save Athens from Xerxes. The calamity had been foreseen, but to foresee is + not to realize. That night in Athens no man slept. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="24" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="264"/> + <anchor id="Pg264"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXIV</head> + <head type="sub"> THE EVACUATION OF ATHENS </head> + <p> It had come at last,—the hour wise men had dreaded, fools had scoffed at, cowards had + dared not face. The Barbarian was within five days’ march of Attica. The Athenians must + bow the knee to the world monarch or go forth exiles from their country. </p> + <p> In the morning after the night of terror came another courier, not this time from + Thermopylæ. He bore a letter from Themistocles, who was returning from Eubœa with the + whole allied Grecian fleet. The reading of the letter in the Agora was the first rift in + the cloud above the city. </p> + <p> + <q>Be strong, prove yourselves sons of Athens. Do what a year ago you so boldly voted. + Prepare to evacuate Attica. All is not lost. In three days I will be with you.</q> + </p> + <p> There was no time for an assembly at the Pnyx, but the Five Hundred and the Areopagus + council acted for the people. It was ordered to remove the entire population of Attica, + with all their movable goods, across the bay to Salamis or to the friendly Peloponnesus, + and that same noon the heralds went over the land to bear the direful summons. </p> + <p> To Hermione, who in the calm after-years looked back on all this year of agony and + stress as on an unreal thing, one time always was stamped on memory as no dream, but + vivid, unforgetable,—these days of the great evacuation. Up and down the pleasant plain + country of the Mesogia to <pb n="265"/><anchor id="Pg265"/>southward, to the rolling + highlands beyond Pentelicus and Parnes, to the slumbering villages by Marathon, to the + fertile farm-land by Eleusis, went the proclaimers of ill-tidings. </p> + <p> + <q>Quit your homes, hasten to Athens, take with you what you can, but hasten, or stay as + Xerxes’s slaves.</q> + </p> + <p> For the next two days a piteous multitude was passing through the city. A country of + four hundred thousand inhabitants was to be swept clean and left naked and profitless to + the invader. Under Hermione’s window, as she gazed up and down the street, jostled the + army of fugitives, women old and young, shrinking from the bustle and uproar, grandsires + on their staves, boys driving the bleating goats or the patient donkeys piled high with + pots and panniers, little girls tearfully hugging a pet puppy or hen. But few strong men + were seen, for the fleet had not yet rounded Sunium to bear the people away. </p> + <p> The well-loved villas and farmsteads were tenantless. They left the standing grain, + the ripening orchards, the groves of the sacred olives. Men rushed for the last time to + the shrines where their fathers had prayed,—the temples of Theseus, Olympian Zeus, + Dionysus, Aphrodite. The tombs of the worthies of old, stretching out along the Sacred + Way to Eleusis, where Solon, Clisthenes, Miltiades, and many another bulwark of Athens + slept, had the last votive wreath hung lovingly upon them. And especially men sought the + great temple of the <q>Rock,</q> to lift their hands to Athena Polias, and vow awful + vows of how harm to the Virgin Goddess should be wiped away in blood. </p> + <p> So the throng passed through the city and toward the shore, awaiting the fleet. </p> + <p> It came after eager watching. The whole fighting force of Athens and her Corinthian, + Æginetan, and other allies. Before the rest raced a stately ship, the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>, her triple-<pb n="266"/><anchor id="Pg266"/>oar bank flying faster + than the spray. The people crowded to the water’s edge when the great trireme cast off + her pinnace and a well-known figure stepped therein. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles is with us!</q> + </p> + <p> He landed at Phaleron, the thousands greeted him as if he were a god. He seemed their + only hope—the Atlas upbearing all the fates of Athens. With the glance of his eye, with + a few quick words, he chased the terrors from the strategi and archons that crowded up + around him. </p> + <p> + <q>Why distressed? Have we not held the Barbarians back nobly at Artemisium? Will we not + soon sweep his power from the seas in fair battle?</q> + </p> + <p> With almost a conqueror’s train he swept up to the city. A last assembly filled the + Pnyx. Themistocles had never been more hopeful, more eloquent. With one voice men voted + never to bend the knee to the king. If the gods forbade them to win back their own dear + country, they would go together to Italy, to found a new and better Athens far from the + Persian’s power. And at Themistocles’s motion they voted to recall all the political + exiles, especially Themistocles’s own great enemy Aristeides the Just, banished by the + son of Neocles only a few years before. The assembly dispersed—not weeping but with + cheers. Already it was time to be quitting the city. Couriers told how the Tartar + horsemen were burning the villages beyond Parnes. The magistrates and admirals went to + the house of Athena. The last incense smoked before the image. The bucklers hanging on + the temple wall were taken down by Cimon and the other young patricians. The statue was + reverently lifted, wound in fine linen, and borne swiftly to the fleet. </p> + <p> + <q>Come, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>!</q> called Hermippus, entering his house to + summon his daughter. Hermione sent a last glance around the disordered aula; her mother + called to the bevy <pb n="267"/><anchor id="Pg267"/>of pallid, whimpering maids. Cleopis + was bearing Phœnix, but Hermione took him from her. Only his own mother should bear him + now. They went through the thinning Agora and took one hard look at each familiar + building and temple. When they should return to them, the inscrutable god kept hid. So + to Peiræus,—and to the rapid pinnaces which bore them across the narrow sea to Salamis, + where for the moment at least was peace. </p> + <p> All that day the boats were bearing the people, and late into the night, until the + task was accomplished, the like whereof is not found in history. No Athenian who willed + was left to the power of Xerxes. One brain and voice planned and directed all. Leonidas, + Ajax of the Hellenes, had been taken. Themistocles, their Odysseus, valiant as Ajax and + gifted with the craft of the immortals, remained. Could that craft and that valour turn + back the might of even the god-king of the Aryans? </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="25" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="268"/> + <anchor id="Pg268"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXV</head> + <head type="sub"> THE ACROPOLIS FLAMES </head> + <p> A few days only Xerxes and his host rested after the dear-bought triumph at + Thermopylæ. An expedition sent to plunder Delphi returned discomfited—thanks, said + common report, to Apollo himself, who broke off two mountain crags to crush the impious + invaders. But no such miracle halted the march on Athens. Bœotia and her cities welcomed + the king; Thespiæ and Platæa, which had stood fast for Hellas, were burned. The + Peloponnesian army lingered at Corinth, busy with a wall across the Isthmus, instead of + risking valorous battle. </p> + <p> + <q>By the soul of my father,</q> the king had sworn, <q>I believe that after the lesson + at Thermopylæ these madmen will not fight again!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By land they will not,</q> said Mardonius, always at his lord’s elbow, <q>by sea—it + remains for your Eternity to discover.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Will they really dare to fight by sea?</q> asked Xerxes, hardly pleased at the + suggestion. </p> + <p> + <q>Omnipotence, you have slain Leonidas, but a second great enemy remains. While + Themistocles lives, it is likely your slaves will have another opportunity to prove to + you their devotion.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, yes! A stubborn rogue, I hear. Well—if we must fight by sea, it shall be under + my own eyes. My loyal <pb n="269"/><anchor id="Pg269"/>Phœnician and Egyptian mariners + did not do themselves full justice at Artemisium; they lacked the valour which comes + from being in the presence of their king.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Which makes a dutiful subject fight as ten,</q> quickly added Pharnaspes the + fan-bearer. </p> + <p> + <q>Of course,</q> smiled the monarch, <q>and now I must ask again, Mardonius, how fares + it with my handsome Prexaspes?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Only indifferently, your Majesty, since you graciously deign to inquire.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Such a sad wound? That is heavy news. He takes long in recovering. I trust he wants + for nothing.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nothing, Omnipotence. He has the best surgeons in the camp.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To-day I will send him Helbon wine from my own table. I miss his comely face about + me. I want him here to play at dice. Tell him to recover because his king desires it. + If he has become right Persian, that will be better than any physic.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have no doubt he will be deeply moved to learn of your Eternity’s kindness,</q> + rejoined the bow-bearer, who was not sorry that further discussion of this delicate + subject was averted by the arch-usher introducing certain cavalry officers with their + report on the most practicable line of march through Bœotia. </p> + <p> Glaucon, in fact, was long since out of danger, thanks to the sturdy bronze of his + Laconian helmet. He was able to walk, and, if need be, ride, but Mardonius would not + suffer him to go outside his own tents. The Athenian would be certain to be recognized, + and at once Xerxes would send for him, and how Glaucon, in his new frame of mind, would + deport himself before majesty, whether he would not taunt the irascible monarch to his + face, the bow-bearer did not know. <pb n="270"/><anchor id="Pg270"/>Therefore the + Athenian endured a manner of captivity in the tents with the eunuchs, pages, and women. + Artazostra was often with him, and less frequently Roxana. But the Egyptian had lost all + power over him now. He treated her with a cold courtesy more painful than contempt. Once + or twice Artazostra had tried to turn him back from his purpose, but her words always + broke themselves over one barrier. </p> + <p> + <q>I am born a Hellene, lady. My gods are not yours. I must live and die after the + manner of my people. And that our gods are strong and will give victory, after that + morning with Leonidas I dare not doubt.</q> + </p> + <p> When the host advanced south and eastward from Thermopylæ, Glaucon went with it, + riding in a closed travelling carriage guarded by Mardonius’s eunuchs. All who saw it + said that here went one of the bow-bearer’s harem women, and as for the king, every day + he asked for his favourite, and every day Mardonius told him, <q>He is even as + before,</q> an answer which the bow-bearer prayed to truth-loving Mithra might not be + accounted a lie. </p> + <p> It was while the army lay at Platæa that news came which might have shaken Glaucon’s + purpose, had that purpose been shakable. Euboulus the Corinthian had been slain in a + skirmish shortly after the forcing of Thermopylæ. The tidings meant that no one lived + who could tell in Athens that on the day of testing the outlaw had cast in his lot with + Hellas. Leonidas was dead. The Spartan soldiers who had heard Glaucon avow his identity + were dead. In the hurried conference of captains preceding the retreat, Leonidas had + told his informant’s precise name only to Euboulus. And now Euboulus was slain, + doubtless before any word from him of Glaucon’s deed could spread abroad. To Athenians + Glaucon was still the <q>Traitor,</q> doubly execrated in this hour of trial. If he + returned to his people, would he not be <pb n="271"/><anchor id="Pg271"/>torn in pieces + by the mob? But the young Alcmæonid was resolved. Since he had not died at Thermopylæ, + no life in the camp of the Barbarian was tolerable. He would trust sovran Athena who had + plucked him out of one death to deliver from a second. Therefore he nursed his + strength—a caged lion waiting for freedom,—and almost wished the Persian host would + advance more swiftly that he might haste onward to his own. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Glaucon had cherished a hope to see the whole power of the Peloponnesus in array in + Bœotia, but that hope proved quickly vain. The oracle was truly to be fulfilled,—the + whole of <q>the land of Cecrops</q> was to be possessed by the Barbarian. The mountain + passes were open. No arrows greeted the Persian vanguard as it cantered down the + defiles, and once more the king’s courtiers told their smiling master that not another + hand would be raised against him. </p> + <p> The fourth month after quitting the Hellespont Xerxes entered Athens. The gates stood + ajar. The invaders walked in silent streets as of a city of the dead. A few runaway + slaves alone greeted them. Only in the Acropolis a handful of superstitious old men and + temple warders had barricaded themselves, trusting that Athena would still defend her + holy mountain. For a few days they defended the steep, rolling down huge boulders, but + the end was inevitable. The Persians discovered a secret path upward. The defenders were + surprised and dashed themselves from the crags or were massacred. A Median spear-man + flung a fire-brand. The house of the guardian goddess went up in flame. The red column + leaping to heaven was a beacon for leagues around that Xerxes held the length and + breadth of Attica. </p> + <p> Glaucon watched the burning temple with grinding teeth. Mardonius’s tents were pitched + in the eastern city by the <pb n="272"/><anchor id="Pg272"/>fountain of Callirhoë,—a + spot of fond memories for the Alcmæonid. Here first he had met Hermione, come with her + maids to draw water, and had gone away dreaming of Aphrodite arising from the sea. Often + here he had sat with Democrates by the little pool, whilst the cypresses above talked + their sweet, monotonous music. Before him rose the Rock of Athena,—the same, yet not + the same. The temple of his fathers was vanishing in smoke and ashes. What wonder that + he turned to Artazostra at his side with a bitter smile. </p> + <p> + <q>Lady, your people have their will. But do not think Athena Nikephorus, the Lady of + Triumphs, will forget this day when we stand against you in battle.</q> + </p> + <p> She did not answer him. He knew that many noblemen had advised Xerxes against driving + the Greeks to desperation by this sacrilege, but this fact hardly made him the happier. </p> + <p> At dusk the next evening Mardonius suffered him to go with two faithful eunuchs and + rove through the deserted city. The Persians were mostly encamped without the walls, and + plundering was forbidden. Only Hydarnes with the Immortals pitched on Areopagus, and the + king had taken his abode by the Agora. It was like walking through the country of the + dead. Everything familiar, everything changed. The eunuchs carried torches. They + wandered down one street after another, where the house doors stood open, where the + aulas were strewn with the débris of household stuff which the fleeing citizens had + abandoned. A deserter had already told Glaucon of his father’s death; he was not amazed + therefore to find the house of his birth empty and desolate. But everywhere else, also, + it was to call back memories of glad days never to return. Here was the school where + crusty Pollicharmes had driven the <q>reading, writing, and music</q> into Democrates + and himself between the blows. Here was the corner Hermes, before which he had + sacrificed the day <pb n="273"/><anchor id="Pg273"/>he won his first wreath in the + public games. Here was the house of Cimon, in whose dining room he had enjoyed many a + bright symposium. He trod the Agora and walked under the porticos where he had lounged + in the golden evenings after the brisk stroll from the wrestling ground at Cynosarges, + and had chatted and chaffered with light-hearted friends about <q>the war</q> and <q>the + king,</q> in the days when the Persian seemed very far away. Last of all an + instinct—he could not call it desire—drove him to seek the house of Hermippus. </p> + <p> They had to force the door open with a stone. The first red torch-light that glimmered + around the aula told that the Eumolpid had awaited the enemy in Athens, not in Eleusis. + The court was littered with all manner of stuff,—crockery, blankets, tables, + stools,—which the late inhabitants had been forced to forsake. A tame quail hopped from + the tripod by the now cold hearth. Glaucon held out his hand, the bird came quickly, + expecting the bit of grain. Had not Hermione possessed such a quail? The outlaw’s blood + ran quicker. He felt the heat glowing in his forehead. </p> + <p> A chest of clothes stood open by the entrance. He dragged forth the contents—women’s + dresses and uppermost a white airy gauze of Amorgos that clung to his hands as if he + were lifting clouds. Out of its folds fell a pair of white shoes with clasps of gold. + Then he recognized this dress Hermione had worn in the Panathenæa and on the night of + his ruin. He threw it down, next stood staring over it like a man possessed. The + friendly eunuchs watched his strange movements. He could not endure to have them follow + him. </p> + <p> + <q>Give me a torch. I return in a moment.</q> + </p> + <p> He went up the stair alone to the upper story, to the chambers of the women. Confusion + here also,—the more valuable possessions gone, but much remaining. In one <pb n="274"/><anchor id="Pg274"/>corner stood the loom and stretched upon it the half-made web of + a shawl. He could trace the pattern clearly wrought in bright wools,—Ariadne sitting + desolate awaiting the returning of Theseus. Would the wife or the betrothed of + Democrates busy herself with <hi rend="italic">that</hi>, whatever the griefs in her + heart? Glaucon’s temples now were throbbing as if to burst. </p> + <p> A second room, and more littered confusion, but in one corner stood a bronze + statue,—Apollo bending his bow against the Achæans,—which Glaucon had given to + Hermione. At the foot of the statue hung a wreath of purple asters, dead and dry, but he + plucked it asunder and set many blossoms in his breast. </p> + <p> A third room, and almost empty. He was moving back in disappointment, when the + torch-light shook over something that swung betwixt two beams,—a wicker cradle. The + woollen swaddling bands were still in it. One could see the spot on the little pillow + with the impress of the tiny head. Glaucon almost dropped the torch. He pressed his hand + to his brow. </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus pity me!</q> he groaned, <q>preserve my reason. How can I serve Hellas and those + I love if thou strikest me mad?</q> + </p> + <p> With feverish anxiety he sent his eyes around that chamber. His search was not in + vain. He almost trampled upon the thing that lay at his feet,—a wooden rattle, the toy + older than the Egyptian pyramids. He seized it, shook it as a warrior his sword. He + scanned it eagerly. Upon the handle were letters carved, but there was a mist before his + eyes which took long to pass away. Then he read the rude inscription: <q>ΦΟΙΝΙΞ : ΥΙΟΣ : ΓΛΑΥΚΟΝΤΟΣ.</q> + <q>Phœnix the son of Glaucon.</q> + <hi rend="italic">His</hi> child. He was the father of a fair son. His wife, he was sure + thereof, had not yet been given to Democrates. </p> + <pb n="275"/> + <anchor id="Pg275"/> + <p> Overcome by a thousand emotions, he flung himself upon a chest and pressed the homely + toy many times to his lips. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> After a long interval he recovered himself enough to go down to the eunuchs, who were + misdoubting his long absence. </p> + <p> + <q>Persian,</q> he said to Mardonius, when he was again at the bow-bearer’s tents, <q>either suffer me to go back to my people right soon or put me to death. My wife has + borne me a son. My place is where I can defend him.</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius frowned, but nodded his head. </p> + <p> + <q>You know I desire it otherwise. But my word is given. And the word of a prince of the + Aryans is not to be recalled. You know what to expect among your people—perhaps a + foul death for a deed of another.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I know it. I also know that Hellas needs me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To fight against us?</q> asked the bow-bearer, with a sigh. <q>Yet you shall go. Eran + is not so weak that adding one more to her enemies will halt her triumph. To-morrow + night a boat shall be ready on the strand. Take it. And after that may your gods guard + you, for I can do no more.</q> + </p> + <p> All the next day Glaucon sat in the tents and watched the smoke cloud above the + Acropolis and the soldiers in the plain hewing down the sacred olives, Athena’s trees, + which no Athenian might injure and thereafter live. But Glaucon was past cursing + now,—endure a little longer and after that, what vengeance! </p> + <p> The gossiping eunuchs told readily what the king had determined. Xerxes was at + Phaleron reviewing his fleet. The Hellenes’ ships confronted him at Salamis. The + Persians had met in council, deliberating one night over their wine, reconsidering the + next morning when sober. Their wisdom each time had been to force a battle. Let the king + <pb n="276"/><anchor id="Pg276"/>destroy the enemy at Salamis, and he could land + troops at ease at the very doors of Sparta, defying the vain wall across the Isthmus. + Was not victory certain? Had he not two ships to the Hellenes’ one? So the Phœnician + vassal kings and all his admirals assured him. Only Artemisia, the martial queen of + Halicarnassus, spoke otherwise, but none would hear her. </p> + <p> + <q>To-morrow the war is ended,</q> a cup-bearer had told a butler in Glaucon’s hearing, + and never noticed how the Athenian took a horseshoe in his slim fingers and straightened + it, whilst looking on the scorched columns of the Acropolis. </p> + <p> At length the sun spread his last gold of the evening. The eunuchs called Glaucon to + the pavilion of Artazostra, who came forth with Roxana for their farewell. They were in + royal purple. The amethysts in their hair were worth a month’s revenues of Corinth. + Roxana had never been lovelier. Glaucon was again in the simple Greek dress, but he + knelt and kissed the robes of both the women. Then rising he spoke to them. </p> + <p> + <q>To you, O princess, my benefactress, I wish all manner of blessing. May you be + crowned with happy age, may your fame surpass Semiramis, the conqueror queen of the + fables, let the gods refuse only one prayer—the conquest of Hellas. The rest of the + world is yours, leave then to us our own.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you, sister of Mardonius,</q> he turned to Roxana now, <q>do not think I despise + your love or your beauty. That I have given you pain, is double pain to me. But I + loved you only in a dream. My life is not for the rose valleys of Bactria, but for the + stony hills by Athens. May Aphrodite give you another love, a brighter fortune than + might ever come by linking your fate to mine.</q> + </p> + <p> They held out their hands. He kissed them. He saw tears on the long lashes of Roxana. </p> + <pb n="277"/> + <anchor id="Pg277"/> + <p> + <q>Farewell,</q> spoke the women, simply. </p> + <p> + <q>Farewell,</q> he answered. He turned from them. He knew they were re-entering the + tent. He never saw the women again. </p> + <p> Mardonius accompanied him all the long way from the fount of Callirhoë to the + sea-shore. Glaucon protested, but the bow-bearer would not hearken. </p> + <p> + <q>You have saved my life, Athenian,</q> was his answer, <q>when you leave me now, it is + forever.</q> + </p> + <p> The moon was lifting above the gloomy mass of Hymettus and scattering all the Attic + plain with her pale gold. The Acropolis Rock loomed high above them. Glaucon, looking + upward, saw the moonlight flash on the spear point and shield of a soldier,—a Barbarian + standing sentry on the ruined shrine of the Virgin Goddess. Once more the Alcmæonid was + leaving Athens, but with very different thoughts than on that other night when he had + fled at Phormio’s side. They quitted the desolate city and the sleeping camp. The last + bars of day had long since dimmed in the west when before them loomed the hill of + Munychia clustered also with tents, and beyond it the violet-black vista of the sea. A + forest of masts crowded the havens, the fleet of the <q>Lord of the World</q> that was + to complete his mastery with the returning sun. Mardonius did not lead Glaucon to the + ports, but southward, where beyond the little point of Colias spread an open sandy + beach. The night waves lapped softly. The wind had sunk to warm puffs from the + southward. They heard the rattle of anchor-chains and tackle-blocks, but from far away. + Beyond the vague promontory of Peiræus rose dark mountains and headlands, at their foot + lay a sprinkling of lights. </p> + <p> + <q>Salamis!</q> cried Glaucon, pointing. <q>Yonder are the ships of Hellas.</q> + </p> + <pb n="278"/> + <anchor id="Pg278"/> + <p> Mardonius walked with him upon the shelving shore. A skiff, small but stanch, was + ready with oars. </p> + <p> + <q>What else will you?</q> asked the bow-bearer. <q>Gold?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nothing. Yet take this.</q> Glaucon unclasped from his waist the golden belt Xerxes + had bestowed at Sardis. <q>A Hellene I went forth, a Hellene I return.</q> + </p> + <p> He made to kiss the Persian’s dress, but Mardonius would not suffer it. </p> + <p> + <q>Did I not desire you for my brother?</q> he said, and they embraced. As their arms + parted, the bow-bearer spoke three words in earnest whisper:— </p> + <p> + <q>Beware of Democrates.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What do you mean?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I can say no more. Yet be wise. Beware of Democrates.</q> + </p> + <p> The attendants, faithful body-servants of Mardonius, and mute witnesses of all that + passed, were thrusting the skiff into the water. There were no long farewells. Both knew + that the parting was absolute, that Glaucon might be dead on the morrow. A last clasping + of the hands and quickly the boat was drifting out upon the heaving waters. Glaucon + stood one moment watching the figures on the beach and pondering on Mardonius’s strange + warning. Then he set himself to the oars, rowing westward, skirting the Barbarian fleet + as it rode at anchor, observing its numbers and array and how it was aligned for battle. + After that, with more rapid stroke, he sent the skiff across the dark ribbon toward + Salamis. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="26" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="279"/> + <anchor id="Pg279"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXVI</head> + <head type="sub"> THEMISTOCLES IS THINKING </head> + <p> Leonidas was taken. Themistocles was left,—left to bear as crushing a load as ever + weighed on man,—to fight two battles, one with the Persian, one with his own unheroic + allies, and the last was the harder. Three hundred and seventy Greek triremes rode off + Salamis, half from Athens, but the commander-in-chief was Eurybiades of Sparta, the + sluggard state that sent only sixteen ships, yet the only state the bickering + Peloponnesians would obey. Hence Themistocles’s sore problems. </p> + <p> Different from the man of unruffled brow who ruled from the bema was he who paced the + state cabin of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> a few nights after the evacuation. + For <hi rend="italic">he</hi> at least knew the morn would bring Hellas her doom. There + had been a gloomy council that afternoon. They had seen the Acropolis flame two days + before. The great fleet of Xerxes rode off the Attic havens. At the gathering of the + Greek chiefs in Eurybiades’s cabin Themistocles had spoken one word many times,—<q>Fight!</q> + </p> + <p> To which Adeimantus, the craven admiral of Corinth, and many another had answered:— </p> + <p> + <q>Delay! Back to the Isthmus! Risk nothing!</q> + </p> + <p> Then at last the son of Neocles silenced them, not with arguments but threats. <q>Either here in the narrow straits we can fight the king or not at all. In the open + seas his numbers <pb n="280"/><anchor id="Pg280"/>can crush us. Either vote to fight + here or we Athenians sail for Italy and leave you to stem Xerxes as you can.</q> + </p> + <p> There had been sullen silence after that, the admirals misliking the furrow drawn + above Themistocles’s eyes. Then Eurybiades had haltingly given orders for battle. </p> + <p> That had been the command, but as the Athenian left the Spartan flag-ship in his + pinnace he heard Globryas, the admiral of Sicyon, muttering, <q>Headstrong fool—he + shall not destroy us!</q> and saw Adeimantus turn back for a word in Eurybiades’s ear. + The Spartan had shaken his head, but Themistocles did not deceive himself. In the battle + at morn half of the Hellenes would go to battle asking more <q>how escape?</q> than <q>how conquer?</q> and that was no question to ask before a victory. </p> + <p> The cabin was empty now save for the admiral. On the deck above the hearty shouts of + <anchor id="corr280"/><corr sic="Ameinas">Ameinias</corr> the trierarch, and chanting of the seamen told that on the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> at least there would be no slackness in the fight. The ship was being + stripped for action, needless spars and sails sent ashore, extra oars made ready, and + grappling-irons placed. <q>Battle</q> was what every Athenian prayed for, but amongst + the allies Themistocles knew it was otherwise. The crucial hour of his life found him + nervous, moody, silent. He repelled the zealous subalterns who came for orders. </p> + <p> + <q>My directions have been given. Execute them. Has Aristeides come yet?</q> The last + question was to Simonides, who had been half-companion, half-counsellor, in all these + days of storm. </p> + <p> + <q>He is not yet come from Ægina.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Leave me, then.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles’s frown deepened. The others went out. </p> + <p> The state cabin was elegant, considering its place. Themistocles had furnished it + according to his luxurious taste,<pb n="281"/><anchor id="Pg281"/>—stanchions cased in + bronze hammered work, heavy rugs from Carthage, lamps swinging from chains of precious + Corinthian brass. Behind a tripod stood an image of Aphrodite of Fair Counsel, the + admiral’s favourite deity. By force of habit now he crossed the cabin, took the golden + box, and shook a few grains of frankincense upon the tripod. </p> + <p> + <q>Attend, O queen,</q> he said mechanically, <q>and be thou propitious to all my + prayers.</q> + </p> + <p> He knew the words meant nothing. The puff of night air from the port-hole carried the + fragrance from the room. The image wore its unchanging, meaningless smile, and + Themistocles smiled too, albeit bitterly. </p> + <p> + <q>So this is the end. A losing fight, cowardice, slavery—no, I shall not live to see + that last.</q> + </p> + <p> He looked from the port-hole. He could see the lights of the Barbarian fleet clearly. + He took long breaths of the clear brine. </p> + <p> + <q>So the tragedy ends—worse than Phrynicus’s poorest, when they pelted his chorus from + the orchestra with date-stones. And yet—and yet—</q> + </p> + <p> He never formulated what came next even in his own mind. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi></q> he cried, springing back with part of his old + lightness, <q>I have borne a brave front before it all. I have looked the Cyclops in the + face, even when he glowered the fiercest. But it all will pass. I presume Thersytes + the caitiff and Agamemnon the king have the same sleep and the same dreams in Orchus. + And a few years more or a few less in a man’s life make little matter. But it would be + sweeter to go out thinking <q>I have triumphed</q> than <q>I have failed, and all the + things I loved fail with me.</q> And Athens—</q> + </p> + <p> Again he stopped. When he resumed his monologue, it was in a different key. </p> + <p> + <q>There are many things I cannot understand. They can<pb n="282"/><anchor id="Pg282"/>not unlock the riddles at Delphi, no seer can read them in the omens of birds. Why + was Glaucon blasted? Was he a traitor? What was the truth concerning his treason? + Since his going I have lost half my faith in mortal men.</q> + </p> + <p> Once more his thoughts wandered. </p> + <p> + <q>How they trust me, my followers of Athens! Is it not better to be a leader of one + city of freemen than a Xerxes, master of a hundred million slaves? How they greeted + me, as if I were Apollo the Saviour, when I returned to Peiræus! And must it be + written by the chroniclers thereafter, <q>About this time Themistocles, son of + Neocles, aroused the Athenians to hopeless resistance and drew on them utter + destruction</q>? O Father Zeus, must men say <hi rend="italic">that</hi>? Am I a + fool or crazed for wishing to save my land from the fate of Media, Lydia, Babylonia, + Egypt, Ionia? Has dark Atropos decreed that the Persians should conquer forever? Then, + O Zeus, or whatever be thy name, O Power of Powers, look to thine empire! Xerxes is + not a king, but a god; he will besiege Olympus, even thy throne.</q> + </p> + <p> He crossed the cabin with hard strides. </p> + <p> + <q>How can I?</q> he cried half-aloud, beating his forehead. <q>How can I make these + Hellenes fight?</q> + </p> + <p> His hand tightened over his sword-hilt. </p> + <p> + <q>This is the only place where we can fight to advantage. Here in the strait betwixt + Salamis and Attica we have space to deploy all our ships, while the Barbarians will be + crowded by numbers. And if we once retreat?—Let Adeimantus and the rest prate + about—<q>The wall, the wall across the Isthmus! The king can never storm it.</q> + Nor will he try to, unless his councillors are turned stark mad. Will he not have + command of the sea? can he not land his army behind the wall, wherever he wills? Have + I not dinned that argument in those doltish Peloponnesians’ ears <pb n="283"/><anchor id="Pg283"/>until I have grown hoarse? Earth and gods! suffer me rather to convince + a stone statue than a Dorian. The task is less hard. Yet they call themselves + reasoning beings.</q> + </p> + <p> A knock upon the cabin door. Simonides reëntered. </p> + <p> + <q>You do not come on deck, Themistocles? The men ask for you. <anchor id="corr283"/><corr sic="Ameinas’s">Ameinias’s</corr> cook has + prepared a noble supper—anchovies and tunny—will you not join the other officers and + drink a cup to Tychē, Lady Fortune, that she prosper us in the morning?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am at odds with Tychē, Simonides. I cannot come with you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The case is bad, then?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, bad. But keep a brave face before the men. There’s no call to pawn our last + chance.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Has it come to that?</q> quoth the little poet, in curiosity and concern. </p> + <p> + <q>Leave me!</q> ordered Themistocles, with a sweep of the hand, and Simonides was wise + enough to obey. </p> + <p> Themistocles took a pen from the table, but instead of writing on the outspread sheet + of papyrus, thrust the reed between his teeth and bit it fiercely. </p> + <p> + <q>How can I? How can I make these Hellenes fight? Tell that, King Zeus, tell that!</q> + </p> + <p> Then quickly his eager brain ran from expedient to expedient. </p> + <p> + <q>Another oracle, some lucky prediction that we shall conquer? But I have shaken the + oracle books till there is only chaff in them. Or a bribe to Adeimantus and his + fellows? But gold can buy only souls, not courage. Or another brave speech and + convincing argument? Had I the tongue of Nestor and the wisdom of Thales, would those + doltish Dorians listen?</q> + </p> + <pb n="284"/> + <anchor id="Pg284"/> + <p> Again the knock, still again Simonides. The dapper poet’s face was a cubit long. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, grief to report it! Cimon sends a boat from his ship the <name type="ship">Perseus</name>. He says the <hi rend="italic">Dikē</hi>, the Sicyonian ship beside + him, is not stripping for battle, but rigging sail on her spars as if to flee + away.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Is that all?</q> asked Themistocles, calmly. </p> + <p> + <q>And there is also a message that Adeimantus and many other admirals who are minded + like him have gone again to Eurybiades to urge him not to fight.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I expected it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Will the Spartan yield?</q> The little poet was whitening. </p> + <p> + <q>Very likely. Eurybiades would be a coward if he were not too much of a fool.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you are not going to him instantly, to confound the faint hearts and urge them to + quit themselves like Hellenes?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not yet.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By the dog of Egypt, man,</q> cried Simonides, seizing his friend’s arm, <q>don’t you + know that if nothing’s done, we’ll all walk the asphodel to-morrow?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course. I am doing all I can.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All? You stand with folded hands!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All—for I am thinking.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Thinking—oh, make actions of your thoughts!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I will.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>When?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>When the god opens the way. Just now the way is fast closed.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> woe—and it is already far into the evening, and Hellas is + lost.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles laughed almost lightly. </p> + <p> + <q>No, my friend. Hellas will not be lost until to-morrow <pb n="285"/><anchor id="Pg285"/>morning, and much can happen in a night. Now go, and let me think yet + more.</q> + </p> + <p> Simonides lingered. He was not sure Themistocles was master of himself. But the + admiral beckoned peremptorily, the poet’s hand was on the cabin door, when a loud knock + sounded on the other side. The <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi>, commander of the + fore-deck and Ameinas’s chief lieutenant, entered and saluted swiftly. </p> + <p> + <q>Your business?</q> questioned the admiral, sharply. </p> + <p> + <q>May it please your Excellency, a deserter.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A deserter, and how and why here?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He came to the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> in a skiff. He swears he has just come + from the Barbarians at Phaleron. He demands to see the admiral.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He is a Barbarian?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No, a Greek. He affects to speak a kind of Doric dialect.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles laughed again, and even more lightly. </p> + <p> + <q>A deserter, you say. Then why, by Athena’s owls, has he left <q>the Land of Roast + Hare</q> among the Persians, whither so many are betaking themselves? We’ve not so + many deserters to our cause that to-night we can ignore one. Fetch him in.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But the council with Eurybiades?</q> implored Simonides, almost on his knees. </p> + <p> + <q>To the harpies with it! I asked Zeus for an omen. It comes—a fair one. There is time + to hear this deserter, to confound Adeimantus, and to save Hellas too!</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles tossed his head. The wavering, the doubting frown was gone. He was + himself again. What he hoped for, what device lay in that inexhaustible brain of his, + Simonides did not know. But the sight itself of this strong, smiling man gave courage. + The officer reëntered, with him a young man, <pb n="286"/><anchor id="Pg286"/>his face + in part concealed by a thick beard and a peaked cap drawn low upon his forehead. The + stranger came boldly across to Themistocles, spoke a few words, whereat the admiral + instantly bade the officer to quit the cabin. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="27" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="287"/> + <anchor id="Pg287"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXVII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE CRAFT OF ODYSSEUS </head> + <p> The stranger drew back the shaggy cap. Simonides and Themistocles saw a young, + well-formed man. With his thick beard and the flickering cabin lamps it was impossible + to discover more. The newcomer stood silent as if awaiting remark from the others, and + they in turn looked on him. </p> + <p> + <q>Well,</q> spoke the admiral, at length, <q>who are you? Why are you here?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You do not know me?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not in the least, and my memory is good. But your speech now is Attic, not Doric as + they told me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It may well be Attic, I am Athenian born.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Athenian? And still to me a stranger? Ah! an instant. Your voice is familiar. Where + have I heard it before?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The last time,</q> rejoined the stranger, his tones rising, <q>it was a certain night + at Colonus. Democrates and Hermippus were with you—likewise—</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles leaped back three steps. </p> + <p> + <q>The sea gives up its dead. You are Glaucon son of—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Conon,</q> completed the fugitive, folding his arms calmly, but the admiral was not + so calm. </p> + <p> + <q>Miserable youth! What harpy, what evil god has brought you hither? What prevents that + I give you over to the crew to crucify at the foremast?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nothing hinders! nothing</q>—Glaucon’s voice mounted <pb n="288"/><anchor id="Pg288"/>to shrillness—<q>save that Athens and Hellas need all their sons this night.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A loyal son you have been!</q> darted Themistocles, his lips curling. <q>Where did + you escape the sea?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I was washed on Astypalæa.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Where have you been since?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In Sardis.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who protected you there?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Mardonius.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Did the Persians treat you so shabbily that you were glad to desert them?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>They loaded me with riches and honour. Xerxes showered me with benefits.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you accompanied their army to Hellas? You went with the other Greek <anchor id="corr288"/><corr sic="renegadoes">renegades</corr>—the sons of Hippias and the rest?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon’s brow grew very red, but he met Themistocles’s arrowlike gaze. </p> + <p> + <q>I did—and yet—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, yes—the <q>yet,</q></q> observed Themistocles, sarcastically. <q>I had expected + it. Well, I can imagine many motives for coming,—to betray our hopes to the Persians, + or even because Athena has put some contrite manhood in your heart. You know, of + course, that the resolution we passed recalling the exiles did not extend pardon to + traitors.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I know it.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles flung himself into a chair. The admiral was in a rare condition for + him,—truly at a loss to divine the best word and question. </p> + <p> + <q>Sit also, Simonides,</q> his order, <q>and you, once Alcmæonid and now outlaw, tell + why, after these confessions, I should believe any other part of your story?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not ask you to believe,</q>—Glaucon stood like a <pb n="289"/><anchor id="Pg289"/>statue,—<q>I shall not blame you if you do the worst,—yet you shall + hear—</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral made an impatient gesture, commanding <q>Begin,</q> and the fugitive + poured out his tale. All the voyage from Phaleron he had been nerving himself for this + ordeal; his composure did not desert now. He related lucidly, briefly, how the fates had + dealt with him since he fled Colonus. Only when he told of his abiding with Leonidas + Themistocles’s gaze grew sharper. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell that again. Be careful. I am very good at detecting lies.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon repeated unfalteringly. </p> + <p> + <q>What proof that you were with Leonidas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>None but my word. Euboulus of Corinth and the Spartans alone knew my name. They are + dead.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Humph! And you expect me to accept the boast of a traitor with a price upon his + head?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You said you were good at detecting lies.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles’s head went down between his hands; at last he lifted it and gazed the + deserter in the face. </p> + <p> + <q>Now, son of Conon, do you still persist that you are innocent? Do you repeat those + oaths you swore at Colonus?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All. I did not write that letter.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who did, then?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A malignant god, I said. I will say it again.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles shook his head. </p> + <p> + <q>Gods take human agencies to ruin a man in these days, even Hermes the Trickster. + Again I say, who wrote that letter?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Athena knows.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And unfortunately her Ladyship the Goddess will not tell,</q> cried the admiral, + blasphemously. <q>Let us fall back on easier questions. Did I write it?</q> + </p> + <pb n="290"/> + <anchor id="Pg290"/> + <p> + <q>Absurd.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Did Democrates?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Absurd again, still—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do you not see, dearest outlaw,</q> said Themistocles, mildly, <q>until you can lay + that letter on some other man’s shoulders, I cannot answer, <q>I believe you</q>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I did not ask that. I have a simpler request. Will you let me serve Hellas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>How do I know you are not a spy sent from Mardonius?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Because too many deserters and talebearers are flying to Xerxes now to require that I + thrust my head in the Hydra’s jaws. You know surely that.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles raised his eyebrows. </p> + <p> + <q>There’s truth said there, Simonides. What do you think?</q> The last question was to + the poet. </p> + <p> + <q>That this Glaucon, whatever his guilt a year ago, comes to-night in good faith.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> that’s easily said. But what if he betrays us again?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If I understand aright,</q> spoke Simonides, shrewdly, <q>our case is such there’s + little left worth betraying.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Not badly put,</q>—again Themistocles pressed his forehead, while Glaucon stood as + passive as hard marble. Then the admiral suddenly began to rain questions like an arrow + volley. </p> + <p> + <q>You come from the king’s camp?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And have heard the plans of battle?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I was not at the council, but nothing is concealed. The Persians are too + confident.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course. How do their ships lie?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Crowded around the havens of Athens. The vassal Ionians have their ships on the left. + The Phœnicians, <pb n="291"/><anchor id="Pg291"/>Xerxes’s chief hope, lie on the + right, but on the extreme right anchor the Egyptians.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>How do you know this?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>From the camp-followers’ talk. Then, too, I rowed by the whole armada while on my way + to Salamis. I have eyes. The moon was shining. I was not mistaken.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do you know where rides the trireme of Ariabignes, Xerxes’s admiral-in-chief?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Off the entrance to Peiræus. It is easy to find her. She is covered with lights.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! and the Egyptian squadron is on the extreme right and closest to Salamis?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Very close.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If they went up the coast as far as the promontory on Mt. Ægaleos, the strait toward + Eleusis would be closed?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Certainly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And on the south the way is already blocked by the Ionians.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I had trouble in passing even in my skiff.</q> + </p> + <p> More questions, Glaucon not knowing whither they all were drifting. Without warning + Themistocles uprose and smote his thigh. </p> + <p> + <q>So you are anxious to serve Hellas?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Have I not said it?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dare you die for her?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I made the choice once with Leonidas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dare you do a thing which, if it slip, may give you into the hands of the Barbarians + to be torn by wild horses or of the Greeks to be crucified?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But it shall not slip!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> that is a noble answer. Now let us come.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whither?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To Eurybiades’s flag-ship. Then I can know whether you must risk the deed.</q> + </p> + <pb n="292"/> + <anchor id="Pg292"/> + <p> Themistocles touched a bronze gong; a marine adjutant entered. </p> + <p> + <q>My pinnace,</q> ordered the admiral. As the man went out, Themistocles took a long + himation from the locker and wrapped it around the newcomer. </p> + <p> + <q>Since even Simonides and I did not recognize you in your long beard, I doubt if you + are in danger of detection to-night. But remember your name is Critias. You can dye + your hair if you come safe back from this adventure. Have you eaten?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who has hunger now?</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles laughed. </p> + <p> + <q>So say all of us. But if the gifts of Demeter cannot strengthen, it is not so with + those of Dionysus. Drink.</q> + </p> + <p> He took from a hook a leathern bottle and poured out a hornful of hot Chian. Glaucon + did not refuse. After he had finished the admiral did likewise. Then Glaucon in turn + asked questions. </p> + <p> + <q>Where is my wife?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In the town of Salamis, with her father; do you know she has borne—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A son. Are both well?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Well. The child is fair as the son of Leto.</q> + </p> + <p> They could see the light flash out of the eyes of the outlaw. He turned toward the + statue and stretched out his hand. </p> + <p> + <q>O Aphrodite, I bless thee!</q> Then again to the admiral, <q>And Hermione is not yet + given to Democrates in marriage?</q> The words came swiftly. </p> + <p> + <q>Not yet. Hermippus desires it. Hermione resists. She calls Democrates your + destroyer.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon turned away his face that they might not behold it. </p> + <pb n="293"/> + <anchor id="Pg293"/> + <p> + <q>The god has not yet forgotten mercy,</q> Simonides thought he heard him say. </p> + <p> + <q>The pinnace is waiting, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> announced the orderly from + the companionway. </p> + <p> + <q>Let the deserter’s skiff be towed behind,</q> ordered Themistocles, once on deck, <q>and let Sicinnus also go with me.</q> + </p> + <p> The keen-eyed Asiatic took his place with Themistocles and Glaucon in the stern. The + sturdy boatmen sent the pinnace dancing. All through the brief voyage the admiral was at + whispers with Sicinnus. As they reached the Spartan flag-ship, half a score of pinnaces + trailing behind told how the Peloponnesian admirals were already aboard clamouring at + Eurybiades for orders to fly. From the ports of the stern-cabin the glare of many lamps + spread wavering bars of light across the water. Voices came, upraised in jarring debate. + The marine guard saluted with his spear as Themistocles went up the ladder. Leaving his + companions on deck, the admiral hastened below. An instant later he was back and + beckoned the Asiatic and the outlaw to the ship’s rail. </p> + <p> + <q>Take Sicinnus to the Persian high admiral,</q> was his ominous whisper, <q>and fail + not,—fail not, for I say to you except the god prosper you now, not all Olympus can + save our Hellas to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> Not another word as he turned again to the cabin. The pinnace crew had brought the + skiff alongside, Sicinnus entered it, Glaucon took the oars, pulled out a little, as if + back to the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>, then sent the head of the skiff around, + pointing across the strait, toward the havens of Athens. Sicinnus sat in silence, but + Glaucon guessed the errand. The wind was rising and bringing clouds. This would hide the + moon and lessen the danger. But above all things speed was needful. The athlete put his + strength upon the <pb n="294"/><anchor id="Pg294"/>oars till the heavy skiff shot across + the black void of the water. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> It was little short of midnight when Glaucon swung the skiff away from the tall + trireme of Ariabignes, the Barbarian’s admiral. The deed was done. He had sat in the + bobbing boat while Sicinnus had been above with the Persian chiefs. Officers who had + exchanged the wine-cup with Glaucon in the days when he stood at Xerxes’s side passed + through the glare of the battle lanterns swaying above the rail. The Athenian had + gripped at the dagger in his belt as he watched them. Better in the instant of discovery + to slay one’s self than die a few hours afterward by slow tortures! But discovery had + not come. Sicinnus had come down the ladder, smiling, jesting, a dozen subalterns + salaaming as he went, and offering all manner of service, for had he not been a bearer + of great good tidings to the king? </p> + <p> + <q>Till to-morrow,</q> an olive-skinned Cilician navarch had spoken. </p> + <p> + <q>Till to-morrow,</q> waved the messenger, lightly. He did all things coolly, as if he + had been bearing an invitation to a feast, took his post in the stern of the skiff + deliberately, then turned to the silent man with him. </p> + <p> + <q>Pull.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Whither?</q> Glaucon was already tugging the oars. </p> + <p> + <q>To Eurybiades’s ship. Themistocles is waiting. And again all speed.</q> + </p> + <p> The line of twinkling water betwixt the skiff and the Persian widened. For a few + moments Glaucon bent himself silently to his task, then for the first time questioned. </p> + <p> + <q>What have you done?</q> + </p> + <p> Even in the darkness he knew Sicinnus grinned and showed his teeth. </p> + <pb n="295"/> + <anchor id="Pg295"/> + <p> + <q>In the name of Themistocles I have told the Barbarian chiefs that the Hellenes are at + strife one with another, that they are meditating a hasty flight, that if the king’s + captains will but move their ships so as to enclose them, it is likely there will be + no battle in the morning, but the Hellenes will fall into the hands of Xerxes + unresisting.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And the Persian answered?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That I and my master would not fail of reward for this service to the king. That the + Egyptian ships would be swung at once across the strait to cut off all flight by the + Hellenes.</q> + </p> + <p> The outlaw made no answer, but pulled at the oars. The reaction from the day and + evening of strain and peril was upon him. He was unutterably weary, though more in mind + than in body. The clumsy skiff seemed only to crawl. Trusting the orders of Sicinnus to + steer him aright, he closed his eyes. One picture after another of his old life came up + before him now he was in the stadium at Corinth and facing the giant Spartan, now he + stood by Hermione on the sacred Rock at Athens, now he was at Xerxes’s side with the + fleets and the myriads passing before them at the Hellespont, he saw his wife, he saw + Roxana, and all other things fair and lovely that had crossed his life. Had he made the + best choice? Were the desperate fates of Hellas better than the flower-banked streams of + Bactria, whose delights he had forever thrust by? Would his Fortune, guider of every + human destiny, bring him at last to a calm haven, or would his life go out amid the + crashing ships to-morrow? The oars bumped on the thole-pins. He pulled mechanically, the + revery ever deepening, then a sharp hail awoke him. </p> + <p> + <q>O-op! What do you here?</q> + </p> + <p> The call was in Phœnician. Glaucon scarce knew the harsh Semitic speech, but the <hi rend="italic">lembos</hi>, a many-oared patrol cutter, was nearly on them. A moment + more, and seizure <pb n="296"/><anchor id="Pg296"/>would be followed by identification. + Life, death, Hellas, Hermione, all flashed before his eyes as he sat numbed, but + Sicinnus saved them both. </p> + <p> + <q>The password to-night? You know it,</q> he demanded in quick whisper. </p> + <p> + <q><q>Hystaspes,</q></q> muttered Glaucon, still wool-gathering. </p> + <p> + <q>Who are you? Why here?</q> An officer in the cutter was rising and upholding an + unmasked lantern. <q>We’ve been ordered to cruise in the channel and snap up deserters, + and by Baal, here are twain! The crows will pick at your eyes to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> Sicinnus stood upright in the skiff. </p> + <p> + <q>Fool,</q> he answered in good Sidonian, <q>dare you halt the king’s privy messenger? + It is not <hi rend="italic">our</hi> heads that the crows will find the soonest.</q> + </p> + <p> The cutter was close beside them, but the officer dropped his lantern. </p> + <p> + <q>Good, then. Give the password.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><q>Hystaspes.</q></q> + </p> + <p> They could see the Phœnician’s hand rise to his head in salute. </p> + <p> + <q>Forgive my rudeness, worthy sir. It’s truly needless to seek deserters to-night with + the Hellenes’ affairs so desperate, yet we must obey his Eternity’s orders.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I pardon you,</q> quoth the emissary, loftily, <q>I will commend your vigilance to + the admiral.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>May Moloch give your Lordship ten thousand children,</q> called back the mollified + Semite. </p> + <p> The crew of the cutter dropped their blades into the water. The boats glided apart. + Not till there was a safe stretch betwixt them did Glaucon begin to grow hot, then cold, + then hot again. Chill Thanatos had passed and missed by a hair’s breadth. Again the + bumping of the oars and <pb n="297"/><anchor id="Pg297"/>the slow, slow creeping over + the water. The night was darkening. The clouds had hid the moon and all her stars. + Sicinnus, shrewd and weatherwise, remarked, <q>There will be a stiff wind in the + morning,</q> and lapsed into silence. Glaucon toiled on resolutely. A fixed conviction + was taking possession of his mind,—one that had come on the day he had been preserved + at Thermopylæ, now deepened by the event just passed,—that he was being reserved by the + god for some crowning service to Hellas, after which should come peace, whether the + peace of a warrior who dies in the arms of victory, whether the peace of a life spent + after a deed well done, he scarcely knew, and in the meantime, if the storms must beat + and the waves rise up against him, he would bear them still. Like the hero of his race, + he could say, <q>Already have I suffered much and much have I toiled in perils of waves + and war, let this be added to the tale of those.</q> + </p> + <p> Bump—bump, the oars played their monotonous music on the thole-pins. Sicinnus stirred + on his seat. He was peering northward anxiously, and Glaucon knew what he was seeking. + Through the void of the night their straining eyes saw masses gliding across the face of + the water. Ariabignes was making his promise good. Yonder the Egyptian fleet were + swinging forth to close the last retreat of the Hellenes. Thus on the north, and + southward, too, other triremes were thrusting out, bearing—both watchers wisely + guessed—a force to disembark on Psyttaleia, the islet betwixt Salamis and the main, a + vantage-point in the coming battle. </p> + <p> The coming battle? It was so silent, ghostlike, far away, imagination scarce could + picture it. Was this black slumberous water to be the scene at dawn of a combat beside + which that of Hector and Achilles under Troy would be only <pb n="298"/><anchor id="Pg298"/>as a tale that is told? And was he, Glaucon, son of Conon the Alcmæonid, + sitting there in the skiff alone with Sicinnus, to have a part therein, in a battle the + fame whereof should ring through the ages? Bump, bump—still the monologue of the oars. + A fish near by leaped from the water, splashing loudly. Then for an instant the clouds + broke. Selene uncovered her face. The silvery flash quickly come, more quickly flying, + showed him the headlands of that Attica now in Xerxes’s hands. He saw Pentelicus and + Hymettus, Parnes and Cithæron, the hills he had wandered over in glad boyhood, the hills + where rested his ancestors’ dust. It was no dream. He felt his warm blood quicken. He + felt the round-bowed skiff spring over the waves, as with unwearied hands he tugged at + the oar. There are moments when the dullest mind grows prophetic, and the mind of the + Athenian was not dull. The moonlight had vanished. In its place through the magic + darkness seemed gathering all the heroes of his people beckoning him and his compeers + onward. Perseus was there, and Theseus and Erechtheus, Heracles the Mighty, and Odysseus + the Patient, whose intellect Themistocles possessed, Solon the Wise, Periander the + Crafty, Diomedes the Undaunted, men of reality, men of fable, sages, warriors, demigods, + crowding together, speaking one message: <q>Be strong, for the heritage of what you do + this coming day shall be passed beyond children’s children, shall be passed down to + peoples to whom the tongue, the gods, yea, the name of Hellas, are but as a dream.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon felt the weariness fly from him. He was refreshed as never by wine. Then + through the void in place of the band of heroes slowly outspread the tracery of a vessel + at anchor,—the outermost guardship of the fleet of the Hellenes. They were again + amongst friends. The watcher on the trireme was keeping himself awake after the manner + of sentries by <pb n="299"/><anchor id="Pg299"/>singing. In the night-stillness the + catch from Archilochus rang lustily. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">By my spear I have won my bread,</q></l> + <l>By spear won my clear, red wine,</l> + <l>On my spear I will lean and drink,—</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Show me a merrier life than is mine!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> The trolling called Glaucon back to reality. Guided by Sicinnus, who knew the stations + of the Greek fleet better than he, a second time they came beside the Spartan admiral. + The lamps were still burning in the stern-cabin. Even before they were alongside, they + caught the clamours of fierce debate. </p> + <p> + <q>Still arguing?</q> quoth Sicinnus to the yawning marine officer who advanced to greet + them as they reached the top of the ladder. </p> + <p> + <q>Still arguing,</q> grunted the Spartan. <q>I think your master has dragged forth all + his old arguments and invented a thousand new ones. He talks continuously, as if + battling for time, though only Castor knows wherefore. There’s surely a majority + against him.</q> + </p> + <p> The emissary descended the companionway, Themistocles leaped up from his seat in the + crowded council. A few whispers, the Asiatic returned to Glaucon on the deck. The two + gazed down the companionway, observing everything. They had not long to wait. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="28" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="300"/> + <anchor id="Pg300"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXVIII</head> + <head type="sub"> BEFORE THE DEATH GRAPPLE </head> + <p> For the fourth time the subaltern who stood at Eurybiades’s elbow turned the + water-glass that marked the passing of the hours. The lamps in the low-ceiled cabin were + flickering dimly. Men glared on one another across the narrow table with drawn and + heated faces. Adeimantus of Corinth was rising to reply to the last appeal of the + Athenian. </p> + <p> + <q>We have had enough, Eurybiades, of Themistocles’s wordy folly. Because the Athenian + admiral is resolved to lead all Hellas to destruction, is no reason that we should + follow. As for his threat that he will desert us with his ships if we refuse to fight, + I fling it in his face that he dare not make it good. Why go all over the + well-threshed straw again? Is not the fleet of the king overwhelming? Were we not + saved by a miracle from overthrow at Artemisium? Do not the scouts tell us the + Persians are advancing beyond Eleusis toward Megara and the Isthmus? Is not our best + fighting blood here in the fleet? Then if the Isthmus is threatened, our business is + to defend it and save the Peloponnesus, the last remnant of Hellas unconquered. Now + then, headstrong son of Neocles, answer that!</q> + </p> + <p> The Corinthian, a tall domineering man, threw back his shoulders like a boxer awaiting + battle. Themistocles did not answer, but only smiled up at him from his seat opposite. </p> + <p> + <q>I have silenced you, grinning babbler, at last,</q> thundered <pb n="301"/><anchor id="Pg301"/>Adeimantus, <q>and I demand of you, O Eurybiades, that we end this tedious + debate. If we are to retreat, let us retreat. A vote, I say, a vote!</q> + </p> + <p> Eurybiades rose at the head of the table. He was a heavy, florid individual with more + than the average Spartan’s slowness of tongue and intellect. Physically he was no + coward, but he dreaded responsibility. </p> + <p> + <q>Much has been said,</q> he announced ponderously, <q>many opinions offered. It would + seem the majority of the council favour the decision to retire forthwith. Has + Themistocles anything more to say why the vote should not be taken?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nothing,</q> rejoined the Athenian, with an equanimity that made Adeimantus snap his + teeth. </p> + <p> + <q>We will therefore take the vote city by city,</q> went on Eurybiades. <q>Do you, + Phlegon of Seriphos, give your vote.</q> + </p> + <p> Seriphos—wretched islet—sent only one ship, but thanks to the Greek mania for <q>equality</q> + <anchor id="corr301"/><corr sic="Phelgon's">Phlegon’s</corr> vote had equal weight with that of Themistocles. </p> + <p> + <q>Salamis is not defensible,</q> announced the Seriphian, shortly. <q>Retreat.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you, Charmides of Melos?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Retreat.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you, Phoibodas of Trœzene?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Retreat, by all the gods.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you, Hippocrates of Ægina?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Stay and fight. If you go back to the Isthmus, Ægina must be abandoned to the + Barbarians. I am with Themistocles.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Record his vote,</q> shouted Adeimantus, ill-naturedly, <q>he is but one against + twenty. But I warn you, Eurybiades, do not call for Themistocles’s vote, or the rest + of us will be angry. The man whose city is under the power of the Bar<pb n="302"/><anchor id="Pg302"/>barian has no vote in this council, however much we condescend + to listen to his chatterings.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian sprang from his seat, his aspect as threatening as Apollo descending + Olympus in wrath. </p> + <p> + <q>Where is my country, Adeimantus? Yonder!</q> he pointed out the open port-hole, <q>there rides the array of our Athenian ships. What other state in Hellas sends so many + and sets better men within them? Athens still lives, though her Acropolis be wrapped + in flames. <q>Strong-hearted men and naught else are warp and woof of a city.</q> Do + you forget Alcæus’s word so soon, O Boaster from Corinth? Yes, by Athena Promachos, + Mistress of Battles, while those nine score ships ride on the deep, I have a city + fairer, braver, than yours. And will you still deny me equal voice and vote with this + noble trierarch from Siphinos with his one, or with his comrade from Melos with his + twain?</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles’s voice rang like a trumpet. Adeimantus winced. Eurybiades broke in with + soothing tones. </p> + <p> + <q>No one intends to deny your right to vote, Themistocles. The excellent Corinthian did + but jest.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A fitting hour for jesting!</q> muttered the Athenian, sinking back into his seat. </p> + <p> + <q>The vote, the vote!</q> urged the Sicyonian chief, from Adeimantus’s elbow, and the + voting went on. Of more than twenty voices only three—Themistocles’s and those of the + Æginetan and Megarian admirals—were in favour of abiding the onset. Yet even when + Eurybiades arose to announce the decision, the son of Neocles sat with his hands + sprawling on the table, his face set in an inscrutable smile as he looked on Adeimantus. </p> + <p> + <q>It is the plain opinion,</q>—Eurybiades hemmed and hawed with his words,—<q>the + plain opinion, I say, of this council that the allied fleet retire at once to the + Isthmus. There<pb n="303"/><anchor id="Pg303"/>fore, I, as admiral-in-chief, do order + each commander to proceed to his own flag-ship and prepare his triremes to retire at + dawn.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Well said,</q> shouted Adeimantus, already on his feet; <q>now to obey.</q> + </p> + <p> But with him rose Themistocles. He stood tall and calm, his thumbs thrust in his + girdle. His smile was a little broader, his head held a little higher, than of wont. </p> + <p> + <q>Good Eurybiades, I grieve to blast the wisdom of all these valiant gentlemen, but + they cannot retire if they wish.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Explain!</q> a dozen shouted. </p> + <p> + <q>Very simply. I have had good reason to know that the king has moved forward the + western horn of his fleet, so as to enclose our anchorage at Salamis. It is impossible + to retire save through the Persian line of battle.</q> + </p> + <p> Perseus upholding the Gorgon’s head before Polydectes’s guests and turning them to + stone wrought hardly more of a miracle than this calm announcement of Themistocles. Men + stared at him vacantly, stunned by the tidings, then Adeimantus’s frightened wrath broke + loose. </p> + <p> + <q>Fox!<note place="foot">Equivalent to crying <q>Hound!</q> in English.</note> Was this + your doing?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I did not ask you to thank me, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>,</q> was the easy + answer. <q>It is, however, urgent to consider whether you wish to be taken unresisting + in the morning.</q> + </p> + <p> The Corinthian shook his fist across the table. </p> + <p> + <q>Liar, as a last device to ruin us, you invent this folly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It is easy to see if I lie,</q> rejoined Themistocles; <q>send out a pinnace and note + where the Persians anchor. It will not take long.</q> + </p> + <p> For an instant swords seemed about to leap from their scabbards, and the enraged + Peloponnesians to sheathe them in the Athenian’s breast. He stood unflinching, smiling, + <pb n="304"/><anchor id="Pg304"/>while a volley of curses flew over him. Then an + orderly summoned him on deck, while Adeimantus and his fellows foamed and contended + below. Under the battle lantern Themistocles saw a man who was his elder in years, + rugged in feature, with massive forehead and wise gray eyes. This was Aristeides the + Just, the admiral’s enemy, but their feud had died when Xerxes drew near to Athens. </p> + <p> Hands clasped heartily as the twain stood face to face. </p> + <p> + <q>Our rivalry forever more shall be a rivalry which of us can do most to profit + Athens,</q> spoke the returning exile; then Aristeides told how he had even now come + from Ægina, how he had heard of the clamours to retreat, how retreat was impossible, for + the Persians were pressing in. A laugh from Themistocles interrupted. </p> + <p> + <q>My handiwork! Come to the council. They will not believe me, no, not my oath.</q> + </p> + <p> Aristeides told his story, and how his vessel to Salamis had scarce escaped the + Egyptian triremes, and how by this time all entrance and exit was surely closed. But + even now many an angry captain called him <q>liar.</q> The strife of words was at white + heat when Eurybiades himself silenced the fiercest doubter. </p> + <p> + <q>Captains of Hellas, a trireme of Teos has deserted from the Barbarian to us. Her + navarch sends word that all is even as Themistocles and Aristeides tell. The Egyptians + hold the passage to Eleusis. Infantry are disembarked on Psyttaleia. The Phœnicians + and Ionians enclose us on the eastern strait. We are hemmed in.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Once more the orderly turned the water-clock. It was past midnight. The clouds had + blown apart before the rising wind. The debate must end. Eurybiades stood again to take + the votes of the wearied, tense-strung men. </p> + <pb n="305"/> + <anchor id="Pg305"/> + <p> + <q>In view of the report of the Teans, what is your voice and vote?</q> + </p> + <p> Before all the rest up leaped Adeimantus. He was no craven at heart, though an evil + genius had possessed him. </p> + <p> + <q>You have your will, Themistocles,</q> he made the concession sullenly yet firmly, <q>you have your will. May Poseidon prove you in the right. If it is battle or slavery + at dawn, the choice is quick. Battle!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Battle!</q> shouted the twenty, arising together, and Eurybiades had no need to + declare the vote. The commanders scattered to their flag-ships, to give orders to be + ready to fight at dawn. Themistocles went to his pinnace last. He walked proudly. He + knew that whatever glory he might gain on the morrow, he could never win a fairer + victory than he had won that night. When his barge came alongside, his boat crew knew + that his eyes were dancing, that his whole mien was of a man in love with his fortune. + Many times, as Glaucon sat beside him, he heard the son of Neocles repeating as in + ecstasy:— </p> + <p> + <q>They must fight. They must fight.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Glaucon sat mutely in the pinnace which had headed not for the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>, but toward the shore, where a few faint beacons were burning. </p> + <p> + <q>I must confer with the strategi as to the morning,</q> Themistocles declared after a + long interval, at which Sicinnus broke in anxiously:— </p> + <p> + <q>You will not sleep, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Sleep?</q> laughed the admiral, as at an excellent jest, <q>I have forgotten there + was such a god as Hypnos.</q> Then, ignoring Sicinnus, he addressed the outlaw. </p> + <p> + <q>I am grateful to you, my friend,</q> he did not call Glaucon by name before the + others, <q>you have saved me, and I have <pb n="306"/><anchor id="Pg306"/>saved Hellas. + You brought me a new plan when I seemed at the last resource. How can the son of + Neocles reward you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Give me a part to play to-morrow.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Thermopylæ was not brisk enough fighting, ha? Can you still fling a javelin?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I can try.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> Try you shall.</q> He let his voice drop. <q>Do not + forget your name henceforth is Critias. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> crew are + mostly from Sunium and the Mesogia. They’d hardly recognize you under that beard; + still Sicinnus must alter you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Command me, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> said the Asiatic. </p> + <p> + <q>A strange time and place, but you must do it. Find some dark dye for this man’s hair + to-night, and at dawn have him aboard the flag-ship.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The thing can be done, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>After that, lie down and sleep. Because Themistocles is awake, is no cause for + others’ star-gazing. Sleep sound. Pray Apollo and Hephæstus to make your eye sure, + your hand strong. Then awake to see the glory of Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> Confidence, yes, power came through the tones of the admiral’s voice. Themistocles + went away to the belated council. Sicinnus led his charge through the crooked streets of + the town of Salamis. Sailors were sleeping in the open night, and they stumbled over + them. At last they found a small tavern where a dozen shipmen sprawled on the earthen + floor, and a gaping host was just quenching his last lamp. Sicinnus, however, seemed to + know him. There was much protesting and headshaking, at last ended by the glint of a + daric. The man grumbled, departed, returned after a tedious interval with a pot of + ointment, found Hermes knew <pb n="307"/><anchor id="Pg307"/>where. By a rush-candle’s + flicker Sicinnus applied the dark dye with a practised hand. </p> + <p> + <q>You know the art well,</q> observed the outlaw. </p> + <p> + <q>Assuredly; the agent of Themistocles must be a Proteus with his disguises.</q> + </p> + <p> Sicinnus laid down his pot and brushes. They had no mirror, but Glaucon knew that he + was transformed. The host got his daric. Again they went out into the night and + forsaking the crowded town sought the seaside. The strand was broad, the sand soft and + cool, the circling stars gave three hours yet of night, and they lay down to rest. The + sea and the shore stretched away, a magic vista with a thousand mystic shapes springing + out of the charmed darkness, made and unmade as overwrought fancy summoned them. As from + an unreal world Glaucon—whilst he lay—saw the lights of the scattered ships, heard the + clank of chains, the rattling of tacklings. Nature slept. Only man was waking. </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">The mountain brows, the rocks, the peaks are sleeping,</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 6">Uplands and gorges hush!</l> + <l>The thousand moorland things are silence keeping,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 6">The beasts under each bush</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 7">Crouch, and the hived bees</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 7">Rest in their honeyed ease;</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 3">In the purple sea fish lie as they were dead,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 3"><q rend="pre: none">And each bird folds his wing over his + head.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> The school-learned lines of Alcman, with a thousand other trivial things, swarmed back + through the head of Glaucon the Alcmæonid. How much he had lived through that night, how + much he would live through,—if indeed he was to live,—upon the morrow! The thought was + benumbing in its greatness. His head swam with confused memories. Then at last all + things dimmed. Once more he dreamed. He was with Hermione gathering red poppies on the + hill above <pb n="308"/><anchor id="Pg308"/>Eleusis. She had filled her basket full. He + called to her to wait for him. She ran away. He chased, she fled with laughter and + sparkling eyes. He could hear the wavings of her dress, the little cries she flung back + over her shoulder. Then by the sacred well near the temple he caught her. He felt her + struggling gayly. He felt her warm breath upon his face, her hair was touching his + forehead. Rejoicing in his strength, he was bending her head toward his—but here he + wakened. Sicinnus had disappeared. A bar of gray gold hung over the water in the east. </p> + <p> + <q>This was the day. <hi rend="italic">This was the day!</hi></q> + </p> + <p> Some moments he lay trying to realize the fact in its full moment. A thin mist rested + on the black water waiting to be dispelled by the sun. From afar came sounds not of + seamen’s trumpets, but horns, harps, kettledrums, from the hidden mainland across the + strait, as of a host advancing along the shore. <q>Xerxes goes down to the marge with + his myriads,</q> Glaucon told himself. <q>Have not all his captains bowed and smiled, + <q>Your Eternity’s victory is certain. Come and behold.</q></q> But here the + Athenian shut his teeth. </p> + <p> People at length were passing up and down the strand. The coast was waking. The gray + bar was becoming silver. Friends passed, deep in talk,—perchance for the last time. + Glaucon lay still a moment longer, and as he rested caught a voice so familiar he felt + all the blood surge to his forehead,—Democrates’s voice. </p> + <p> + <q>I tell you, Hiram,—I told you before,—I have no part in the ordering of the fleet. + Were I to interfere with ever so good a heart, it would only breed trouble for us + all.</q> + </p> + <p> So close were the twain, the orator’s trailing chiton almost fell on Glaucon’s face. + The latter marvelled that his own heart did not spring from its prison in his breast, so + fierce were its beatings. </p> + <pb n="309"/> + <anchor id="Pg309"/> + <p> + <q>If my Lord would go to Adeimantus and suggest,</q>—the other’s Greek came with a + marked Oriental accent. </p> + <p> + <q>Harpy! Adeimantus is no Medizer. He is pushed to bay now, and is sure to fight. Have + you Barbarians no confidence? Has not the king two triremes to our one? Only fools can + demand more. Tell Lycon, your master, I have long since done my uttermost to serve + him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yet remember, Excellency.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Begone, scoundrel. Don’t threaten again. If I know your power over me, I can also + promise you not to go down to Orchus alone, but take excellent pains to have fair + company.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am sorry to bear such tidings to Lycon, Excellency.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Away with you!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do not raise your voice, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> spoke Hiram, never more + blandly, <q>here is a man asleep.</q> + </p> + <p> The hint sent Democrates from the spot almost on a run. Hiram disappeared in the + opposite direction. Glaucon rose, shook the sand from his cloak, and stood an instant + with his head whirling. The voice of his boyhood friend, of the man who had ruined him + because of a suspicion of treason—and now deep in compromising talk with the agent of + the chief of the peace party at Sparta! And wherefore had Mardonius spoken those + mysterious words at their parting, <q>Beware of Democrates</q>? For an instant the + problems evoked made him forget even the coming battle. </p> + <p> A clear trumpet-blast down the strand gave a truce to questioning. Sicinnus + reappeared, and led Glaucon to one of the great fires roaring on the beach, where the + provident Greek sailors were breakfasting on barley porridge and meat broth before + dining on spears and arrow-heads. A silent company, no laughter, no jesting. All knew + another sun for them might never rise. Glaucon ate not because he hungered, but because + duty ordered it. As the light strengthened, the <pb n="310"/><anchor id="Pg310"/>strand + grew alive with thousands of men at toil. The triremes drawn on shore went down into the + sea on their rollers. More trumpet-blasts sent the rowers aboard their ships. But last + of all, before thrusting out to do or die, the Greeks must feast their ears as well as + their stomachs. On the sloping beach gathered the officers and the armoured + marines,—eighteen from each trireme,—and heard one stirring harangue after another. + The old feuds were forgotten. Adeimantus and Eurybiades both spoke bravely. The seers + announced that every bird and cloud gave good omen. Prayer was offered to Ajax of + Salamis that the hero should fight for his people. Last of all Themistocles spoke, and + never to fairer purpose. No boasts, no lip courage, a painting of the noble and the + base, the glory of dying as freemen, the infamy of existing as slaves. He told of + Marathon, of Thermopylæ, and asked if Leonidas had died as died a fool. He drew tears. + He drew vows of vengeance. He never drew applause. Men were too strained for that. At + last he sent the thousands forth. </p> + <p> + <q>Go, then. Quit yourselves as Hellenes. That is all the task. And I say to you, in the + after days this shall be your joy, to hear the greatest declare of you, <q>Reverence + this man, for he saved us all at Salamis.</q></q> + </p> + <p> The company dispersed, each man to his ship. Themistocles went to his pinnace, and a + cheer uprose from sea and land as the boat shot out to the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. Eurybiades might be chief in name; who did not know that Themistocles + was the surest bulwark of Hellas? </p> + <p> The son of Neocles, standing in the boat, uplifted his face to the now golden east. </p> + <p> + <q>Be witness, Helios,</q> he cried aloud, <q>be witness when thou comest, I have done + all things possible. And do thou and thy fellow-gods on bright Olympus rule our battle + now; the lot is in your hands!</q> + </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="29" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="311"/> + <anchor id="Pg311"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXIX</head> + <head type="sub"> SALAMIS </head> + <p> Sunrise. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> was ready. Ameinias the navarch walked + the deck above the stern-cabin with nervous strides. All that human forethought could do + to prepare the ship had long been done. The slim hull one hundred and fifty feet long + had been stripped of every superfluous rope and spar. The masts had been lowered. On the + cat-heads hung the anchors weighted with stone to fend off an enemy, astern towed the + pinnace ready to drag alongside and break the force of the hostile ram. The heavy-armed + marines stood with their long boarding spears, to lead an attack or cast off + grappling-irons. But the true weapon of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> was herself. + To send the three-toothed beak through a foeman’s side was the end of her being. To meet + the shock of collision two heavy cables had been bound horizontally around the hull from + stem to stern. The oarsmen,—the <hi rend="italic">thranites</hi> of the upper tier, the + <hi rend="italic">zygites</hi> of the middle, the <hi rend="italic">thalamites</hi> of + the lower,—one hundred and seventy swart, nervous-eyed men, sat on their benches, and + let their hands close tight upon those oars which trailed now in the drifting water, but + which soon and eagerly should spring to life. At the belt of every oarsman dangled a + sword, for boarders’ work was more than likely. Thirty spare rowers rested impatiently + on the centre deck, ready to leap wherever needed. On the forecastle commanded the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi>, Ameinias’s lieutenant, <pb n="312"/><anchor id="Pg312"/>and with him the <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi>, the oar master who must give time + on his sounding-board for the rowing, and never fail,—not though the ships around + reeled down to watery grave. And finally on the poop by the captain stood the <q>governor,</q>—knotted, grizzled, and keen,—the man whose touch upon the heavy + steering oars might give the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> life or destruction when + the ships charged beak to beak. </p> + <p> + <q>The trireme is ready, admiral,</q> reported Ameinias, as Themistocles came up + leisurely from the stern-cabin. </p> + <p> The son of Neocles threw back his helmet, that all might see his calm, untroubled + face. He wore a cuirass of silvered scale-armour over his purple chiton. At his side + walked a young man, whom the ship’s people imagined the deserter of the preceding night, + but he had drawn his helmet close. </p> + <p> + <q>This is Critias,</q> said Themistocles, briefly, to the navarch; <q>he is a good + caster. See that he has plenty of darts.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>One of Themistocles’s secret agents,</q> muttered the captain to the governor, <q>we + should have guessed it.</q> And they all had other things to think of than the whence + and wherefore of this stranger. </p> + <p> It was a weary, nervous interval. Men had said everything, done everything, hoped and + feared everything. They were in no mood even to invoke the gods. In desperation some + jested riotously as they gripped the oars on the benches,—demonstrations which the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi> quelled with a loud <q>Silence in the ship.</q> The + morning mist was breaking. A brisk wind was coming with the sun. Clear and strong sang + the Notus, the breeze of the kindly south. It covered the blue bay with crisping + whitecaps, it sent the surf foaming up along the Attic shore across the strait. + Themistocles watched it all with silent eyes, but eyes that spoke of gladness. He knew + the waves would beat with full force on the Persian <pb n="313"/><anchor id="Pg313"/>prows, and make their swift movement difficult while the Greeks, taking the galloping + surf astern, would suffer little. </p> + <p> + <q>Æolus fights for us. The first omen and a fair one.</q> The word ran in whispers down + the benches, and every soul on the trireme rejoiced. </p> + <p> How long did they sit thus? An æon? Would Eurybiades never draw out his line of + battle? Would Adeimantus prove craven at the end? Would treachery undo Hellas to-day, as + once before at Lade when the Ionian Greeks had faced the Persian fleet in vain? Now as + the vapour broke, men began to be able to look about them, and be delivered from their + own thoughts. The shores of Salamis were alive,—old men, women, little children,—the + fugitives from Attica were crowding to the marge in thousands to watch the deed that + should decide their all. And many a bronze-cheeked oarsman arose from his bench to wave + farewell to the wife or father or mother, and sank back again,—a clutching in his + throat, a mist before his eyes, while his grip upon the oar grew like to steel. </p> + <p> As the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> rode at her place in the long line of ships + spread up and down the shore of Salamis, it was easy to detect forms if not faces on the + strand. And Glaucon, peering out from his helmet bars, saw Democrates himself standing + on the sands and beckoning to Themistocles. Then other figures became clear to him out + of the many, this one or that whom he had loved and clasped hands with in the sunlit + days gone by. And last of all he saw those his gaze hungered for the most, Hermippus, + Lysistra, and another standing at their side all in white, and in her arms she bore + something he knew must be her child,—Hermione’s son, his son, born to the lot of a free + man of Athens or a slave of Xerxes according as his elders played their part this day. + Only <pb n="314"/><anchor id="Pg314"/>a glimpse,—the throng of strangers opened to + disclose them closed again; Glaucon leaned on a capstan. All the strength for the moment + was gone out of him. </p> + <p> + <q>You rowed and wrought too much last night, Critias,</q> spoke Themistocles, who had + eyes for everything. <q>To the cabin, Sicinnus, bring a cup of Chian.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No wine, for Athena’s sake!</q> cried the outlaw, drawing himself together, <q>it is + passed. I am strong again.</q> + </p> + <p> A great shout from the shores and the waiting fleet made him forget even the sight of + Hermione. </p> + <p> + <q>They come! The Persians! The Persians!</q> + </p> + <p> The fleet of the Barbarians was advancing from the havens of Athens. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The sun rose higher. He was far above Hymettus now, and shooting his bright javelins + over mainland, islands, and waters. With his rising the southern breeze sang ever + clearer, making the narrow channel betwixt Salamis and Attica white, and tossing each + trireme merrily. Not a cloud hung upon Pentelicus, Hymettus, or the purple northern + range of Parnes. Over the desolate Acropolis hovered a thin mist,—smoke from the + smouldering temple, the sight of which made every Attic sailor blink hard and think of + the vengeance. </p> + <p> Yonder on the shore of the mainland the host of the Persian was moving: horsemen in + gilded panoply, Hydarnes’s spearmen in armour like suns. They stood by myriads in + glittering masses about a little spur of Mt. Ægaleos, where a holy close of Heracles + looked out upon the sea. To them were coming more horsemen, chariots, litters, and + across the strait drifted the thunderous acclamation, <q>Victory to the king!</q> For + here on the ivory throne, with his mighty men, his captains, his harem, about him, the + <q>Lord of the World</q> + <pb n="315"/><anchor id="Pg315"/>would look down on the battle and see how his slaves + could fight. </p> + <p> Now the Barbarians began to move forth by sea. From the havens of Peiræus and their + anchorages along the shore swept their galleys,—Phœnician, Cilician, Egyptian, and, + sorrow of sorrows, Ionian—Greek arrayed against Greek! Six hundred triremes and more + they were, taller in poop and prow than the Hellenes, and braver to look upon. </p> + <p> Each vied with each in the splendour of the scarlet, purple, and gold upon stern and + foreship. Their thousands of white oars moved like the onward march of an army as they + trampled down the foam. From the masts of their many admirals flew innumerable gay + signal-flags. The commands shouted through trumpets in a dozen strange tongues—the + shrill pipings of the oar masters, the hoarse shouts of the rowers—went up to heaven in + a clamorous babel. <q>Swallows’ chatter,</q> cried the deriding Hellenes, but hearts + were beating quicker, breath was coming faster in many a breast by Salamis then,—and no + shame. For now was the hour of trial, the wrestle of Olympian Zeus with Ahura-Mazda. Now + would a mighty one speak from the heavens to Hellas, and say to her <q>Die!</q> or <q>Be!</q> + </p> + <p> The Barbarians’ armadas were forming. Their black beaks, all pointing toward Salamis, + stretched in two bristling lines from the islet of Psyttaleia—whence the shields of the + landing force glittered—to that brighter glitter on the promontory by Ægaleos where sat + the king. To charge their array seemed charging a moving hedge of spears, impenetrable + in defence, invincible in attack. Slowly, rocked by the sea and rowing in steady order, + the armament approached Salamis. And still the Greek ships lay spread out along the + shore, each trireme swinging at the end of the cable which moored her to the land, each + mariner listening <pb n="316"/><anchor id="Pg316"/>to the beatings of his own heart and + straining his eyes on one ship now—Eurybiades’s—which rode at the centre of their line + and far ahead. </p> + <p> All could read the order of battle at last as squadron lay against squadron. On the + west, under Xerxes’s own eye, the Athenians must charge the serried Phœnicians, at the + centre the Æginetans must face the Cilicians, on the east Adeimantus and his fellows + from Peloponnese must make good against the vassal Ionians. But would the signal to row + and strike never come? Had some god numbed Eurybiades’s will? Was treachery doing its + darkest work? With men so highly wrought moments were precious. The bow strung too long + will lose power. And wherefore did Eurybiades tarry? </p> + <p> Every soul in the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> kept his curses soft, and + waited—waited till that trailing monster, the Persian fleet, had crept halfway from + Psyttaleia toward them, then up the shrouds of the Spartan admiral leaped a flag. Eager + hands drew it, yet it seemed mounting as a snail, till at the masthead the clear wind + blew it wide,—a plain red banner, but as it spread hundreds of axes were hewing the + cables that bound the triremes to the shore, every Greek oar was biting the sea, the + ships were leaping away from Salamis. From the strand a shout went up, a prayer more + than a cheer, mothers, wives, little ones, calling it together:— </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus prosper you!</q> + </p> + <p> A roar from the fleet, the tearing of countless blades on the thole-pins answered + them. Eurybiades had spoken. There was no treason. All now was in the hand of the god. </p> + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + <p> Across the strait they went, and the Barbarians seemed springing to meet them. From + the mainland a tumult of voices was rising, the myriads around Xerxes encouraging <pb n="317"/><anchor id="Pg317"/>their comrades by sea to play the man. No indecisive, + half-hearted battle should this be, as at Artemisium. Persian and Hellene knew that. The + keen Phœnicians, who had chafed at being kept from action so long, sent their line of + ships sweeping over the waves with furious strokes. The grudges, the commercial + rivalries between Greek and Sidonian, were old. No Persian was hotter for Xerxes’s cause + than his Phœnician vassals that day. </p> + <p> And as they charged, the foemen’s lines seemed so dense, their ships so tall, their + power so vast, that involuntarily hesitancy came over the Greeks. Their strokes slowed. + The whole line lagged. Here an Æginetan galley dropped behind, yonder a Corinthian + navarch suffered his men to back water. Even the <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi> of the + <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> slackened his beating on the sounding-board. + Eurybiades’s ship had drifted behind to the line of her sisters, as in defiance a + towering Sidonian sprang ahead of the Barbarian line of battle, twenty trumpets from her + poop and foreship asking, <q>Dare you meet me?</q> The Greek line became almost + stationary. Some ships were backing water. It was a moment which, suffered to slip + unchecked, leads to irreparable disaster. Then like a god sprang Themistocles upon the + capstan on his poop. He had torn off his helmet. The crews of scores of triremes saw + him. His voice was like Stentor’s, the herald whose call was strong as fifty common men. </p> + <p> In a lull amidst the howls of the Barbarians his call rang up and down the flagging + ships:— </p> + <lg> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post: none"><hi rend="italic">O Sons of Hellas! save + your land,</hi></q></l> + <l><hi rend="italic">Your children save, your altars and your wives!</hi></l> + <l><q rend="pre: none"><hi rend="italic">Now dare and do, for ye have staked your + all!</hi></q></l> + </lg> + <p> + <q>Now dare and do, for ye have staked your all!</q> </p> + <p>Navarch shouted it to navarch. The + cry went up and <pb n="318"/><anchor id="Pg318"/>down the line of the Hellenes, <q>loud + as when billows lash the beetling crags.</q> The trailing oars beat again into the + water, and even as the ships once more gained way, Themistocles nodded to Ameinias, and + he to the <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi>. The master oarsman leaped from his seat and + crashed his gavel down upon the sounding-board. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Aru! Aru! Aru!</hi> Put it on, my men!</q> + </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> answered with a leap. Men wrought at the oar + butts, tugging like mad, their backs toward the foe, conscious only that duty bade them + send the trireme across the waves as a stone whirls from the sling. Thus the men, but + Themistocles, on the poop, standing at the captain’s and governor’s side, never took his + gaze from the great Barbarian that leaped defiantly to meet them. </p> + <p> + <q>Can we risk the trick?</q> his swift question to Ameinias. </p> + <p> The captain nodded. <q>With this crew—yes.</q> + </p> + <p> Two stadia, one stadium, half a stadium, a ship’s length, the triremes were charging + prow to prow, rushing on a common death, when Ameinias clapped a whistle to his lips and + blew shrilly. As one man every rower on the port-side leaped to his feet and dragged his + oar inward through its row-hole. The deed was barely done ere the Sidonian was on them. + They heard the roaring water round her prow, the cracking of the whips as the petty + officers ran up and down the gangways urging on the panting cattle at the oars. Then + almost at the shock the governor touched his steering oar. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> swerved. The prow of the Sidonian rushed past them. A shower of darts + pattered down on the deck of the Hellene, but a twinkling later from the Barbarians + arose a frightful cry. Right across her triple oar bank, still in full speed, ploughed + the Athenian. The Sidonian’s oars were snapping like faggots. The luckless rowers were + flung from their benches in heaps. In less time than the telling every oar on the + Barbarian’s port-side <pb n="319"/><anchor id="Pg319"/>had been put out of play. The <hi rend="italic">diekplous</hi>, favourite trick of the Grecian seamen, had never been + done more fairly. </p> + <p> Now was Themistocles’s chance. He used it. There was no need for him to give orders to + the oar master. Automatically every rower on the port-tiers of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> had run out his blade again. The governor sent the head of the trireme + around with a grim smile locked about his grizzled lips. It was no woman’s task which + lay before them. Exposing her whole broadside lay the long Sidonian; she was helpless, + striving vainly to crawl away with her remaining oar banks. Her people were running to + and fro, howling to Baal, Astarte, Moloch, and all their other foul gods, and stretching + their hands for help to consorts too far away. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Aru! Aru! Aru!</hi></q> was the shout of the oar master; again the + <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> answered with her leap. Straight across the narrow + water she shot, the firm hand of the governor never veering now. The stroke grew faster, + faster. Then with one instinct men dropped the oars, to trail in the rushing water, and + seized stanchions, beams, anything to brace themselves for the shock. The crash which + followed was heard on the mainland and on Salamis. The side of the Phœnician was beaten + in like an egg-shell. From the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> poop they saw her open + hull reel over, saw the hundreds of upturned, frantic faces, heard the howls of agony, + saw the waves leap into the gaping void.— </p> + <p> + <q>Back water,</q> thundered Ameinias, <q>clear the vortex, she is going down!</q> + </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people staggered to the oars. So busy were they + in righting their own ship few saw the crowning horror. A moment more and a few drifting + spars, a few bobbing heads, were all that was left of the Phœnician. The Ægean had + swallowed her. </p> + <pb n="320"/> + <anchor id="Pg320"/> + <p> A shout was pealing from the ships of the Hellenes. <q>Zeus is with us! Athena is with + us!</q> + </p> + <p> At the outset of the battle, when advantage tells the most, advantage had been won. + Themistocles’s deed had fused all the Greeks with hopeful courage. Eurybiades was + charging. Adeimantus was charging. Their ships and all the rest went racing to meet the + foe. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> But the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> had paid for her victory. In the shock of + ramming the triple-toothed beak on her prow had been wrenched away. In the <hi rend="italic">mêlée</hi> of ships which had just begun, she must play her part robbed + of her keenest weapon. The sinking of the Barbarian had been met with cheers by the + Hellenes, by howls of revengeful rage by the host against them. Not lightly were the + Asiatics who fought beneath the eyes of the king to be daunted. They came crowding up + the strait in such masses that sheer numbers hindered them, leaving no space for the + play of the oars, much less for fine manœuvre. Yet for an instant it seemed as if mere + weight would sweep the Hellenes back to Salamis. Then the lines of battle dissolved into + confused fragments. Captains singled out an opponent and charged home desperately, + unmindful how it fared elsewhere in the battle. Here an Egyptian ran down a Eubœan, + there a Sicyonian grappled a Cilician and flung her boarders on to the foeman’s decks. + To the onlookers the scene could have meant naught save confusion. A hundred duels, a + hundred varying victories, but to which side the final glory would fall, who + knew?—perchance not even Zeus. </p> + <p> In the roaring <hi rend="italic">mêlée</hi> the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> had + for some moments moved almost aimlessly, her men gathering breath and letting their + unscathed comrades pass. Then gradually the battle drifted round them also. A Cyprian, + noting they <pb n="321"/><anchor id="Pg321"/>had lost their ram, strove to charge them + bow to bow. The skill of the governor avoided that disaster. They ran under the stem of + a Tyrian, and Glaucon proved he had not forgotten his skill when he sent his javelins + among the officers upon the poop. A second Sidonian swept down on them, but grown wise + by her consort’s destruction turned aside to lock with an Æginetan galley. How the fight + at large was going, who was winning, who losing, Glaucon saw no more than any one else. + An arrow grazed his arm. He first learned it when he found his armour bloody. A + sling-stone smote the marine next to him on the forehead. The man dropped without a + groan. Glaucon flung the body overboard, almost by instinct. Themistocles was + everywhere, on the poop, on the foreship, among the rowers’ benches, shouting, laughing, + cheering, ordering, standing up boldly where the arrows flew thickest, yet never hit. So + for a while, till out of the confusion of ships and wrecks came darting a trireme, + loftier than her peers. The railing on poop and prow was silver. The shields of the + javelin-men that crowded her high fighting decks were gilded. Ten pennons whipped from + her masts, and the cry of horns, tambours, and kettledrums blended with the shoutings of + her crew. A partially disabled Hellene drifted across her path. She ran the luckless + ship down in a twinkling. Then her bow swung. She headed toward the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. </p> + <p> + <q>Do you know this ship?</q> asked Themistocles, at Glaucon’s side on the poop. </p> + <p> + <q>A Tyrian, the newest in their fleet, but her captain is the admiral Ariamenes, + Xerxes’s brother.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>She is attacking us, Excellency,</q> called Ameinias, in his chief’s ear. The din + which covered the sea was beyond telling. </p> + <p> Themistocles measured the water with his eye. </p> + <pb n="322"/> + <anchor id="Pg322"/> + <p> + <q>She will be alongside then in a moment,</q> was his answer, <q>and the beak is + gone?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Gone, and ten of our best rowers are dead.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles drew down the helmet, covering his face. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Euge!</hi> Since the choice is to grapple or fly, we had better + grapple.</q> + </p> + <p> The governor shifted again the steering paddles. The head of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> fell away toward her attacker, but no signal was given to quicken the + oars. The Barbarian, noting what her opponent did, but justly fearing the handiness of + the Greeks, slackened also. The two ships drifted slowly together. Long before they + closed in unfriendly contact the arrows of the Phœnician pelted over the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> like hail. Rowers fell as they sat on the upper benches; + on the poop the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi> lay with half his men. Glaucon never + counted how many missiles dinted his helmet and buckler. The next instant the two ships + were drifting without steerage-way. The grappling-irons dashed down upon the Athenian, + and simultaneously the brown Phœnician boarders were scrambling like cats upon her + decks. </p> + <p> + <q>Swords, men!</q> called Themistocles, never less daunted than at the pinch, <q>up and + feed them with iron!</q> + </p> + <p> Three times the Phœnicians poured as a flood over the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. + Three times they were flung back with loss, but only to rage, call on their gods, and + return with tenfold fury. Glaucon had hurled one sheaf of javelins, and tore loose + another, eye and arm aiming, casting mechanically. In the lulls he saw how wind and sea + were sweeping the two ships landward, until almost in arrow-shot of the rocky point + where sat Xerxes and his lords. He saw the king upon his ivory throne and all his mighty + men around him. He saw the scribes standing near with parchment and papyrus, inscribing + the names of this or that ship which did well or <pb n="323"/><anchor id="Pg323"/>ill in + behalf of the lord of the Aryans. He saw the gaudy dresses of the eunuchs, the litters, + and from them peering forth the veiled women. Did Artazostra think <hi rend="italic">now</hi> the Hellenes were mad fools to look her brother’s power in the face? From the + shores of Attica and of Salamis, where the myriads rejoiced or wept as the scattered + battle changed, the cries were rising, falling, like the throb of a tragic chorus,—a + chorus of Titans, with the actors gods. </p> + <p> + <q>Another charge!</q> shouted Ameinias, through the din, <q>meet them briskly, + lads!</q> + </p> + <p> Once more the hoarse Semitic war-shout, the dark-faced Asiatics dropping upon the + decks, the whir of javelins, the scream of dying men, the clash of steel on steel. A + frantic charge, but stoutly met. Themistocles was in the thickest <hi rend="italic">mêlée</hi>. With his own spear he dashed two Tyrians overboard, as they sprang upon + the poop. The band that had leaped down among the oar benches were hewn in pieces by the + seamen. The remnant of the attackers recoiled in howls of despair. On the Phœnician’s + decks the Greeks saw the officers laying the lash mercilessly across their men, but the + disheartened creatures did not stir. Now could be seen Ariamenes, the high admiral + himself, a giant warrior in his purple and gilded armour, going up and down the poop, + cursing, praying, threatening,—all in vain. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> + people rose and cheered madly. </p> + <p> + <q>Enough! They have enough! Glory to Athens!</q> + </p> + <p> But here Ameinias gripped Themistocles’s arm. The chief turned, and all the Hellenes + with him. The cheer died on their lips. A tall trireme was bearing down on them in full + charge even while the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> drifted. They were as helpless as + the Sidonian they had sent to death. One groan broke from the Athenians. </p> + <p> + <q>Save, Athena! Save! It is Artemisia! The queen of Halicarnassus!</q> + </p> + <pb n="324"/> + <anchor id="Pg324"/> + <p> The heavy trireme of the amazon princess was a magnificent sight as they looked on + her. Her oars flew in a flashing rhythm. The foam leaped in a cataract over her ram. The + sun made fire of the tossing weapons on her prow. A yell of triumph rose from the + Phœnicians. On the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> men dropped sword and spear, moaned, + raved, and gazed wildly on Themistocles as if he were a god possessing power to dash the + death aside. </p> + <p> + <q>To your places, men!</q> rang his shout, as he faced the foe unmoved, <q>and die as + Athenians!</q> + </p> + <p> Then even while men glanced up at the sun to greet Helios for the last time, there was + a marvel. The threatening beak shot around. The trireme flew past them, her oars leaping + madly, her people too intent on escape even to give a flight of javelins. And again the + Athenians cheered. </p> + <p> + <q>The <name type="ship">Perseus</name>! Cimon has saved us.</q> + </p> + <p> Not three ships’ lengths behind the Halicarnassian raced the ship of the son of + Miltiades. They knew now why <anchor id="corr324"/><corr sic="(italic)">Artemisia</corr> had veered. Well she + might; had she struck the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> down, her own broadside would + have swung defenceless to the fleet pursuer. The <name type="ship">Perseus</name> sped + past her consort at full speed, Athenian cheering Athenian as she went. </p> + <p> + <q>Need you help?</q> called Cimon, from his poop, as Themistocles waved his sword. </p> + <p> + <q>None, press on, smite the Barbarian! Athena is with us!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Athena is with us! Zeus is with us!</q> + </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> crew were lifted from panic to mad enthusiasm. + Still above them towered the tall Phœnician, but they could have scaled Mt. Caucasus at + that instant. </p> + <p> + <q>Onward! Up and after them,</q> rang Ameinias’s blast, <q>she is our own, we will take + her under the king’s own eye.</q> + </p> + <pb n="325"/> + <anchor id="Pg325"/> + <p> The javelins and arrows were pelting from the Barbarian. The Athenians mocked the + shower as they leaped the void from bulwark to bulwark. Vainly the Phœnicians strove to + clear the grapples. Too firm! Their foes came on to their decks with long leaps, or here + and there ran deftly on projecting spars, for what athlete of Hellas could not run the + tight rope? In an instant the long rowers’ deck of the Tyrian was won, and the attackers + cheered and blessed Athena. But this was only storming the first outpost. Like castles + forward and aft reared the prow and poop, whither the sullen defenders retreated. + Turning at bay, the Phœnicians swarmed back into the waist, waiting no scourging from + their officers. Now their proud admiral himself plunged into the <hi rend="italic">mêlée</hi>, laying about with a mighty sword worthy of Ajax at Troy, showing he was a + prince of the Aryans indeed. It took all the steadiness of Ameinias and his stoutest men + to stop the rush, and save the Athenians in turn from being driven overboard. The rush + was halted finally, though this was mere respite before a fiercer breaking of the storm. + The two ships were drifting yet closer to the strand. Only the fear of striking their + own men kept the Persians around the king from clouding the air with arrows. Glaucon saw + the grandees near Xerxes’s throne brandishing their swords. In imagination he saw the + monarch leaping from his throne in agony as at Thermopylæ. </p> + <p> + <q>Back to the charge,</q> pealed Ariamenes’s summons to the Tyrians; <q>will you be + cowards and dogs beneath the very eyes of the king?</q> + </p> + <p> The defenders answered with a second rush. Others again hurled darts from the stern + and foreship. Then out of the <anchor id="corr325"/><corr sic="maelstrom">mælstrom</corr> of men and weapons came a truce. Athenian and + Tyrian drew back, whilst Themistocles and Ariamenes were fighting blade to blade. Twice + the giant Persian almost <pb n="326"/><anchor id="Pg326"/>dashed the Hellene down. Twice + Themistocles recovered poise, and paid back stroke for stroke. He had smitten the helmet + from Ariamenes’s head and was swinging for a master-blow when his foot slipped on the + bloody plank. He staggered. Before he could recover, the Persian had brought his own + weapon up, and flung his might into the downward stroke. </p> + <p> + <q>The admiral—lost!</q> Athenians shuddered together, but with the groan shot a + javelin. Clear through the scales of the cuirass it tore, and into the Persian’s + shoulder,—Glaucon’s cast, never at the Isthmus truer with hand or eye. The ponderous + blade turned, grazed the Athenian’s corselet, clattered on the deck. The Persian sprang + back disarmed and powerless. At sight thereof the Phœnicians flung down their swords. + True Orientals, in the fate of their chief they saw decreeing Destiny,—what use to + resist it? </p> + <p> + <q>Yield, my Lord, yield,</q> called Glaucon, in Persian, <q>the battle is against you, + and no fault of yours. Save the lives of your men.</q> + </p> + <p> Ariamenes gave a toss of his princely head, and with his left hand plucked the javelin + from his shoulder. </p> + <p> + <q>A prince of the Aryans knows how to die, but not how to yield,</q> he cast back, and + before the Athenians guessed his intent he sprang upon the bulwark. There in the sight + of his king he stood and bowed his head and with his left arm made the sign of + adoration. </p> + <p> + <q>Seize him!</q> shouted Ameinias, divining his intent, but too late. The Persian + leaped into the water. In his heavy mail he sank like lead. The wave closed over him, as + he passed forever from the sight of man. </p> + <p> There was stillness on the Tyrian for a moment. A groan of helpless horror was rising + from the Barbarians on the shore. Then the Phœnicians fell upon their knees, crying in + their harsh tongue, <q>Quarter! Quarter!</q> and embracing and <pb n="327"/><anchor id="Pg327"/>kissing the feet of the victors. Thanks to the moment of quietness given + them, the Athenians’ blood had cooled a little; they gathered up the weapons cast upon + the deck; there was no massacre. </p> + <p> Themistocles mounted the poop of the captured flag-ship, and Glaucon with him. The + wind was wafting them again into the centre of the channel. For the first time for many + moments they were able to look about them, to ask, <q>How goes the battle?</q> Not the + petty duel they had fought, but the great battle of battles which was the life-struggle + of Hellas. And behold, as they gazed they pressed their hands upon their eyes and looked + and looked again, for the thing they saw seemed overgood for truth. Where the great + Barbarian line had been pushing up the strait, were only bands of scattered ships, and + most of these turning their beaks from Salamis. The waves were strewn with wrecks, and + nigh every one a Persian. And right, left, and centre the triumphant Hellenes were + pressing home, ramming, grappling, capturing. Even whilst the fight raged, pinnaces were + thrusting out from Salamis—Aristeides’s deed, they later heard—crowded with martial + graybeards who could not look idly on while their sons fought on the ships, and who + speedily landed on <anchor id="corr327"/><corr sic="Psytalleia">Psyttaleia</corr> to massacre the luckless Persians there stationed. The + cheers of the Barbarians were ended now; from the shores came only a beastlike howling + which drowned the pæans of the victors. As the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people + looked, they could see the once haughty Phœnicians and Cilicians thrusting back against + the land, and the thousands of footmen running down upon the shore to drag the shattered + triremes up and away from the triumphant Hellenes. </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people in wondering gaze stood there for a long + time as if transfixed, forgetful how their ship and its prize drifted, forgetful of + weariness, forgetful of wounds. <pb n="328"/><anchor id="Pg328"/>Then as one man they + turned to the poop of the captured Tyrian, and to Themistocles. <hi rend="italic">He</hi> had done it—their admiral. He had saved Hellas under the eyes of the vaunting + demigod who thought to be her destroyer. They called to Themistocles, they worshipped as + if he were the Olympian himself. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="30" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="329"/> + <anchor id="Pg329"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXX</head> + <head type="sub"> THEMISTOCLES GIVES A PROMISE </head> + <p> After the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> had returned that night to Salamis, after + the old men and the women had laughed and wept over the living,—they were too proud to + weep over the dead,—after the prudent admirals had set the fleet again in order, for + Xerxes might tempt fate again in the morning with his remaining ships, Themistocles + found himself once more in his cabin. With him was only Glaucon the Alcmæonid. The + admiral’s words were few and pointed. </p> + <p> + <q>Son of Conon, last night you gave me the thought whereby I could save Hellas. To-day + your javelin saved me from death. I owe you much. I will repay in true coin. To-morrow + I can give you back to your wife and all your friends if you will but suffer me.</q> + </p> + <p> The younger man flushed a little, but his eyes did not brighten. He felt + Themistocles’s reservation. </p> + <p> + <q>On what terms?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You shall be presented to the Athenians as one who, yielding for a moment to + overmastering temptation, has atoned for one error by rendering infinite service.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then I am to be <q>Glaucon the Traitor</q> still, even if <q>Glaucon the Repentant + Traitor</q>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your words are hard, son of Conon; what may I say? Have you any new explanation for + the letter to Argos?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The old one—I did not write it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Let us not bandy useless arguments. Do you not see I shall be doing all that is + possible?</q> + </p> + <pb n="330"/> + <anchor id="Pg330"/> + <p> + <q>Let me think a little.</q> + </p> + <p> The younger Athenian held down his head, and Themistocles saw his brows knitting. </p> + <p> + <q>Son of Neocles,</q> said Glaucon, at length, <q>I thank you. You are a just man. + Whatever of sorrow has or will be mine, you have no part therein, but I cannot + return—not to Hermione and my child—on any terms you name.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your purpose, then?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To-day the gods show mercy to Hellas, later they may show justice to me. The war is + far from ended. Can you not let me serve on some ship of the allies where none can + recognize me? Thus let me wait a year, and trust that in that year the sphinx will + find her riddle answered.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To wait thus long is hard,</q> spoke the other, kindly. </p> + <p> + <q>I have done many hard things, Themistocles.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And your wife?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hera pity her! She bade me return when Athens knew me innocent. Better that she wait + a little longer, though in sorrow, when I can return to her even as she bade me. + Nevertheless, promise one thing.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Name it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That if her parents are about to give her to Democrates or any other, you will + prevent.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles’s face lightened. He laid a friendly hand on the young man’s shoulder. </p> + <p> + <q>I do not know how to answer your cry of innocency, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>, + but this I know, in all Hellas I think none is fairer in body or soul than you. Have + no fear for Hermione, and in the year to come may Revealer Apollo make all of your + dark things bright.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon bowed his head. Themistocles had given everything the outlaw could ask, and + the latter went out of the cabin. </p> + </div> + </div> + <div type="book" n="3" rend="page-break-before: right"> + <pb n="331"/> + <anchor id="Pg331"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>BOOK III</head> + <head type="sub"> THE PASSING OF THE PERSIAN </head> + <pb n="332"/> + <anchor id="Pg332"/> + <p> + </p> + <div type="chapter" n="31" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="333"/> + <anchor id="Pg333"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXI</head> + <head type="sub"> DEMOCRATES SURRENDERS </head> + <p> Hellas was saved. But whether forever or only for a year the gods kept hid. + Panic-stricken, the <q>Lord of the World</q> had fled to Asia after the great disaster. + The eunuchs, the harem women, the soft-handed pages, had escaped with their master to + luxurious Sardis, the remnant of the fleet fled back across the Ægean. But the brain and + right arm of the Persians, Mardonius the Valiant, remained in Hellas. With him were + still the Median infantry, the Tartar horse-archers, the matchless Persian lancers,—the + backbone of the undefeated army. Hellas was not yet safe. </p> + <p> Democrates had prospered. He had been reëlected strategus. If Themistocles no longer + trusted him quite so freely as once, Aristeides, restored now to much of his former + power, gave him full confidence. Democrates found constant and honourable employment + through the winter in the endless negotiations at Sparta, at Corinth, and elsewhere, + while the jealous Greek states wrangled and intrigued, more to humiliate some rival than + to advance the safety of Hellas. But amongst all the patriot chiefs none seemed more + devoted to the common weal of Hellas than the Athenian orator. </p> + <p> Hermippus at least was convinced of this. The Eleusinian had settled at Trœzene on the + Argive coast, a hospitable city that received many an outcast Athenian. He found his <pb n="334"/><anchor id="Pg334"/>daughter’s resistance to another marriage increasingly + unreasonable. Was not Glaucon dead for more than a year? Ought not any woman to bless + Hera who gave her so noble, so eloquent, a husband as Democrates—pious, rich, trusted + by the greatest, and with the best of worldly prospects? </p> + <p> + <q>If you truly desire any other worthy man, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>,</q> said + Hermippus, once, <q>you shall not find me obstinate. Can a loving father say more? But + if you are simply resolved never to marry, I will give you to him despite your will. A + senseless whim must not blast your highest happiness.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He ruined Glaucon,</q> said Hermione, tearfully. </p> + <p> + <q>At least,</q> returned Lysistra, who like many good women could say exceeding cruel + things, <q><hi rend="italic">he</hi> has never been a traitor to his country.</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione’s answer was to fly to her chamber, and to weep—as many a time before—over + Phœnix in the cradle. Here old Cleopis found her, took her in her arms, and sang her the + old song about Alphæus chasing Arethusa—a song more fit for Phœnix than his mother, but + most comforting. So the contest for the moment passed, but after a conference with + Hermippus, Democrates went away on public business to Corinth unusually well pleased + with the world and himself. </p> + <p> It was a tedious, jangling conference held at the Isthmus city. Mardonius had tempted + the Athenians sorely. In the spring had come his envoys proffering reparation for all + injuries in the wars, enlarged territory, and not slavery, but free alliance with the + Great King, if they would but join against their fellow-Hellenes. The Athenians had met + the tempter as became Athenians. Aristeides had given the envoys the answer of the whole + people. </p> + <p> + <q>We know your power. Yet tell it to Mardonius, that so long as Helios moves in the + heavens we will not make <pb n="335"/><anchor id="Pg335"/>alliance with Xerxes, but + rather trust to the gods whose temples he has burned.</q> + </p> + <p> Bravely said, but when the Athenians looked to Sparta for the great army to hasten + north and give Mardonius his death-stroke, it was the old wearisome tale of excuses and + delay. At the conference in Corinth Aristeides and Democrates had passed from arguments + to all but threats, even such as Themistocles had used at Salamis. It was after one of + these fruitless debates that Democrates passed out of the gathering at the Corinthian + prytaneum, with his colleagues all breathing forth their wrath against Dorian stupidity + and evasiveness. </p> + <p> Democrates himself crossed the city Agora, seeking the house of the friendly merchant + where he was to sup. He walked briskly, his thoughts more perhaps on the waiting + betrothal feast at Trœzene, than on the discussion behind him. The Agora scene had + little to interest, the same buyers, booths, and babel as in Athens, only the citadel + above was the mount of Acro-Corinthus, not the tawny rock of Athena. And in late months + he had begun to find his old fears and terrors flee away. Every day he was growing more + certain that his former <q>missteps</q>—that was his own name for certain + occurrences—could have no malign influence. <q>After all,</q> he was reflecting, <q>Nemesis is a very capricious goddess. Often she forgets for a lifetime, and after + death—who knows what is beyond the Styx?</q> + </p> + <p> He was on such noble terms with all about him that he could even give ear to the whine + of a beggar. The man was sitting on the steps between the pillars of a colonnade, with a + tame crow perched upon his fist, and as Democrates passed he began his doggerel + prayer:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Good master, a handful of barley bestow</q></l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">On the child of Apollo, the sage, sable crow.</q></l> + </lg> + <pb n="336"/> + <anchor id="Pg336"/> + <p> The Athenian began to fumble in his belt for an obol, when he was rudely distracted by + a twitch upon his chiton. Turning, he was little pleased to come face to face with no + less a giant than Lycon. </p> + <p> + <q>There was an hour, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>,</q> spoke the Spartan, with + ill-concealed sneer, <q>when you did not have so much silver to scatter out to + beggars.</q> + </p> + <p> Time had not mended Lycon’s aspect, nor taken from his eye that sinister twinkle which + was so marked a foil to his brutishness. </p> + <p> + <q>I did not invite you, dear fellow,</q> rejoined the Athenian, <q>to remind me of the + fact.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yet you should have gratitude, and you have lacked that virtue of late. It was a + sorry plight Mardonius’s money saved you from two years since, and nobly have you + remembered his good service.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Worthy Lacedæmonian,</q> said Democrates, with what patience he could command, <q>if + you desire to go over all that little business which concerned us then, at least I + would suggest not in the open Agora.</q> He started to walk swiftly away. The + Spartan’s ponderous strides easily kept beside him. Democrates looked vainly for an + associate whom he could approach and on some pretext could accompany. None in sight. + Lycon kept fast hold of his cloak. For practical purposes Democrates was prisoner. </p> + <p> + <q>Why in Corinth?</q> he threw out sullenly. </p> + <p> + <q>For three reasons, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>,</q> Lycon grinned over his + shoulder, <q>first, the women at the Grove of Aphrodite here are handsome; second, I am + weary of Sparta and its black broth and iron money; third, and here is the rose for my + garland, I had need to confer with your noble self.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Would not Hiram be your dutiful messenger again?</q> queried the other, vainly + watching for escape. </p> + <pb n="337"/> + <anchor id="Pg337"/> + <p> + <q>Hiram is worth twenty talents as a helper;</q>—Lycon gave a hound-like chuckle,—<q>still he is not Apollo, and there are too many strings on this lyre for him to play + them all. Besides, he failed at Salamis.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He did! Zeus blast his importunity and yours likewise. Where are you taking me? I + warn you in advance, you are <q>shearing an ass,</q>—attempting the impossible,—if + you deceive yourself as to my power. I can do nothing more to prevent the war from + being pressed against Mardonius. It is only your Laconian ephors that are + hindering.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We shall see, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>, we shall see,</q> grunted the + Spartan, exasperatingly cool. <q>Here is Poseidon’s Temple. Let us sit in the shaded + portico.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates resigned himself to be led to a stone seat against the wall. The gray old + <q>dog-watcher</q> by the gate glanced up to see that no dogs were straying into the + holy house, noted only two gentlemen come for a chat, and resumed his siesta. Lycon took + a long time in opening his business. </p> + <p> + <q>The world has used you well of late, dear fellow.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Passing well, by Athena’s favour.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You should say by Hermes’s favour, but I would trust you Athenians to grow fat on + successful villany and then bless the righteous gods.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I hope you haven’t left Sparta just to revile me!</q> cried Democrates, leaping up, + to be thrust back by Lycon’s giant paw. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> mix a little honey with your speech, it costs nothing. + Well, the length and breadth of my errand is this, Mardonius must fight soon, and must + be victorious.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That is for your brave ephors to say,</q> darted Democrates. <q>According to their + valiant proposals they desire this war to imitate that with Troy,—to last ten + years.</q> + </p> + <pb n="338"/> + <anchor id="Pg338"/> + <p> + <q>Indeed—but I always held my people surpassed in procrastination, as yours in + deceiving. However, their minds will change.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Aristeides and Themistocles will bless you for that.</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon shrugged his great shoulders. </p> + <p> + <q>Then I’ll surpass the gods, who can seldom please all men. Still it is quite + true.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I’m glad to hear it.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Democrates, you know what’s befallen in Sparta. Since Leonidas died, his rivals + from my own side of the royal house have gathered a great deal more of power. My uncle + Nicander is at present head of the board of ephors, and gladly takes my advice.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ha!</q> Democrates began to divine the drift. </p> + <p> + <q>It seemed best to me after the affair at Salamis to give the lie to my calumniators, + who hinted that I desired to <q>Medize,</q> and that it was by my intriguing that the + late king took so small a force to Thermopylæ.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All Hellas knows <hi rend="italic">your</hi> patriotism!</q> cried Democrates, + satirically. </p> + <p> + <q>Even so. I have silenced my fiercest abusers. If I have not yet urged in our assembly + that we should fight Mardonius, it is merely because—it is not yet prudent.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Excellent scoundrel,</q> declared the other, writhing on his seat, <q>you are no + Spartan, but long-winded as a Sicilian.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Patience, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>, a Spartan must either speak in apothegms + or take all day. I have not advised a battle yet because I was not certain of your + aid.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, by Zeus,</q> broke out Democrates, <q>that ointment I sniffed a long way off. I + can give you quick answer. Fly back to Sparta, swift as Boreas; plot, conspire, earn + Tartarus, to your heart’s content—you’ll get no more help from me.</q> + </p> + <pb n="339"/> + <anchor id="Pg339"/> + <p> + <q>I expected that speech.</q> Lycon’s coolness drove his victim almost frantic. </p> + <p> + <q>In the affair of Tempē I bent to you for the last time,</q> Democrates charged + desperately. <q>I have counted the cost. Perhaps you can use against me certain + documents, but I am on a surer footing than once. In the last year I have done such + service to Hellas I can even hope to be forgiven, should these old mistakes be proved. + And if you drive me to bay, be sure of this, I will see to it that all the dealings + betwixt the Barbarian and your noble self are expounded to your admiring + countrymen.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You show truly excellent courage, dear Democrates,</q> cried Lycon, in + pseudo-admiration. <q>That speech was quite worthy of a tragic actor.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If we’re in the theatre, let the chorus sing its last strophe and have done. You + disgust me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace, peace,</q> ordered Lycon, his hand still on the Athenian’s shoulder, <q>I will + make all the haste I can, but obstinacy is disagreeable. I repeat, you are needed, + sorely needed, by Mardonius to enable him to complete the conquest of Hellas. You + shall not call the Persians ungrateful—the tyranny of Athens under the easy + suzerainty of the king, is that no dish to whet your appetite?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I knew of the offer before.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A great pity you are not more eager. Hermes seldom sends such chances twice. I hoped + to have you for <q>my royal brother</q> when they gave me the like lordship of + Lacedæmon. However, the matter does not end with your refusal.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I have said, <q>Do your worst.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And my worst is—Agis.</q> + </p> + <p> For an instant Lycon was dismayed. He thought he had slain his victim with one word. + Democrates dropped from his clutch and upon the pavement as though stricken through <pb n="340"/><anchor id="Pg340"/>the heart by an arrow. He was pallid as a corpse, at + first he only groaned. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu! eu!</hi> good comrade,</q> cried the Spartan, dragging him up, + half triumphant, half sympathetic, <q>I did not know I was throwing Zeus’s + thunderbolts.</q> + </p> + <p> The Athenian sat with his head on his hands. In all his dealings with the Spartan he + had believed he had covered the details of the fate of Glaucon. Lycon could surmise what + he liked, but the proof to make the damning charges good Democrates believed he had safe + in his own keeping. Only one man could have unlocked the casket of infamy—Agis—and the + mention of his name was as a bolt from the blue. </p> + <p> + <q>Where is he? I heard he was killed at Artemisium.</q> Lycon hardly understood his + victim’s thick whispers. </p> + <p> + <q>Wounded indeed, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>, taken prisoner, and sent to Thebes. + There friends of mine found he had a story to tell—greatly to my advantage. It is + only a little time since he came to Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What lies has he told?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Several, dear fellow, although if they are lies, then Aletheia, Lady Truth, must + almost own them for her children. At least they are interesting lies; as, for example, + how you advised the Cyprian to escape from Athens, how you gave Agis a letter to hide + in the boots of Glaucon’s messenger, of your interviews with Lampaxo and Archias, of + the charming art you possess of imitating handwritings and seals.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Base-born swine! who will believe him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Base born, Democrates, but hardly swinish. He can tell a very clear story. Likewise, + Lampaxo and Archias must testify at the trial, also your slave Bias can tell many + interesting things.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Only if I consent to produce him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>When did a master ever refuse to let his slave testify, <pb n="341"/><anchor id="Pg341"/>if demanded, unless he wished to blast his own cause with the jury? No, + <hi rend="italic">makaire</hi>, you will not enjoy the day when Themistocles arrays + the testimony against you.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates shivered. The late spring sun was warm. He felt no heat. A mere charge of + treason he was almost prepared now to endure. If Mistress Fortune helped him, he might + refute it, but to be branded before Hellas as the destroyer of his bosom friend, and + that by guile the like whereof Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Ixion conjoined had never + wrought—what wonder his knees smote together? Why had he not foreseen that Agis would + fall into Lycon’s hands? Why had he trusted that lying tale from Artemisium? And worst + of all, worse than the howls of the people who would tear his body asunder like dogs, + not waiting the work of the hemlock, was the thought of Hermione. She hated him now. How + she would love him, though he sat on Xerxes’s throne, if once her suspicion rose to + certainty! He saw himself ruined in life and in love, and blazoned as infamous forever. </p> + <p> Lycon was wise enough to sit some moments, letting his utterance do its work. He was + confident, and rightly. Democrates looked on him at last. The workings of the Athenian’s + face were terrible. </p> + <p> + <q>I am your slave, Spartan. Had you bought me for ten minæ and held the bill of sale, I + were not yours more utterly. Your wish?</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon chose his words and answered slowly. </p> + <p> + <q>You must serve Persia. Not for a moment, but for all time. You must place that + dreadful gift of yours at our disposal. And in return take what is promised,—the + lordship of Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No word of that,</q> groaned the wretched man, <q>what will you do?</q> + </p> + <pb n="342"/> + <anchor id="Pg342"/> + <p> + <q>Aristeides is soon going to Sparta to press home his demands that the Lacedæmonians + march in full force against Mardonius. I can see to it that his mission succeeds. A + great battle will be fought in Bœotia. <hi rend="italic">We</hi> can see to it that + Mardonius is so victorious that all further resistance becomes a dream.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And my part in this monster’s work?</q> + </p> + <p> The demands and propositions with which Lycon answered this despairing question will + unfold themselves in due place and time. Suffice it here, that when he let the Athenian + go his way Lycon was convinced that Democrates had bound himself heart and soul to + forward his enterprise. The orator was no merry guest for his Corinthian hosts that + night. He returned to his old manner of drinking unmixed wine. <q>Thirsty as a + Macedonian!</q> cried his companions, in vain endeavour to drive him into a laugh. + They did not know that once more the chorus of the Furies was singing about his ears, + and he could not still it by the deepest wine-cup. They did not know that every time he + closed his eyes he was seeing the face of Glaucon. That morning he had mocked at + Nemesis. That night he heard the beating of her brazen wings. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="32" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="343"/> + <anchor id="Pg343"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE STRANGER IN TRŒZENE </head> + <p> Despite exile, life had moved pleasantly for Hermippus’s household that spring. The + Trœzenians had surpassed all duties to Zeus Xenios—the stranger’s god—in entertaining + the outcast Athenians. The fugitives had received two obols per day to keep them in figs + and porridge. Their children had been suffered to roam and plunder the orchards. But + Hermippus had not needed such generosity. He had placed several talents at interest in + Corinth; likewise bonds of <q>guest-friendship</q> with prominent Trœzenians made his + residence very agreeable. He had hired a comfortable house, and could enjoy even luxury + with his wife, daughter, young sons, and score of slaves. </p> + <p> Little Phœnix grew marvellously day by day, as if obeying his mother’s command to wax + strong and avenge his father. Old Cleopis vowed he was the healthiest, least tearful + babe, as well as the handsomest, she had ever known,—and she spoke from wide + experience. When he was one year old, he was so active they had to tie him in the + cradle. When the golden spring days came, he would ride forth upon his nurse’s back, + surveying the Hellas he was born to inherit, and seeming to find it exceeding good. </p> + <p> But as spring verged on summer, Hermione demanded so much of Cleopis’s care that even + Phœnix ceased to be the focus of attention. The lordly Alcmæonid fell into the cus<pb n="344"/><anchor id="Pg344"/>tody of one Niobe, a dark-haired lass of the islands, who + treated him well, but cared too much for certain young <q>serving-gentlemen</q> to waste + on her charge any unreciprocated adoration. So on one day, just as the dying grass told + the full reign of the Sun King, she went forth with her precious bundle wriggling in her + arms, but her thoughts hardly on Master Phœnix. Procles the steward had been cold of + late, he had even cast sly glances at Jocasta, Lysistra’s tiring-woman. Mistress Niobe + was ready—since fair means of recalling the fickle Apollo failed—to resort to foul. + Instead, therefore, of going to the promenade over the sea, she went—burden and all—to + the Agora, where she was sure old Dion, who kept a soothsayer’s shop, would give due + assistance in return for half a drachma. </p> + <p> The market was just thinning. Niobe picked her way amongst the vegetable women, fought + off a boy who thrust on her a pair of geese, and found in a quiet corner by a temple + porch the booth of Dion, who grinned with his toothless gums in way of greeting. He + listened with paternal interest to her story, soothed her when she sniffled at Procles’s + name, and made her show her silver, then began pulling over his bags and vials of + strange powders and liquids. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, kind Master Dion,</q> began Niobe, for the sixth time, <q>if only some philtre + could make Procles loath that abominable Jocasta!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu! eu!</hi></q> muttered the old sinner, <q>it’s hard to say + what’s best,—powder of toad’s bone or the mixture of wormwood and adder’s fat. The + safest thing is to consult the god—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What do you mean?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why, my holy cock here, hatched at Delphi with Apollo’s blessings on him.</q> Dion + pointed with his thumb to the small coop at his feet. <q>The oracle is simple. You cast + <pb n="345"/><anchor id="Pg345"/>before him two piles of corn; if he picks at the + one to right we take toad’s bone, to left the adder’s fat. Heaven will speak to + us.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Excellent,</q> cried Niobe, brightening. </p> + <p> + <q>But, of course, we must use only consecrated corn, that’s two obols more.</q> + </p> + <p> Niobe’s face fell. <q>I’ve only this half-drachma.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then, <hi rend="italic">philotata</hi>,</q> said Dion, kindly but firmly, <q>we had + better wait a little longer.</q> + </p> + <p> Niobe wept. <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> woe. <q>A little longer</q> and Jocasta has + Procles. I can’t ask Hermione again for money. <hi rend="italic">Ai! ai!</hi></q> + </p> + <p> Two round tears did not move Dion in the slightest. Niobe was sobbing, at her small + wits’ end, when a voice sounded behind her. </p> + <p> + <q>What’s there wrong, lass? By Zeus, but you carry a handsome child!</q> + </p> + <p> Niobe glanced, and instantly stopped weeping. A young man dressed roughly as a sailor, + and with long black hair and beard, had approached her, but despite dress and beard she + was quite aware he was far handsomer than even Procles. </p> + <p> + <q>I beg pardon, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q>—she said <q><hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi></q> by instinct,—<q>I’m only an honest maid. Dion is terribly + extortionate.</q> She cast down her eyes, expecting instant succour from the + susceptible seaman, but to her disgust she saw he was admiring only the babe, not + herself. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! Gods and goddesses, what a beautiful child! A girl?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A boy,</q> answered Niobe, almost sullenly. </p> + <p> + <q>Blessed the house in Trœzene then that can boast of such a son.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, he’s not Trœzenian, but one of the exiles from <pb n="346"/><anchor id="Pg346"/>Athens,</q> volunteered Dion, who kept all the tittle-tattle of the little city in + stock along with his philtres. </p> + <p> + <q>An Athenian! Praised be Athena Polias, then. I am from Athens myself. And his + father?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The brat will never boast of his father,</q> quoth Dion, rolling his eyes. <q>He left + the world in a way, I wager five minæ, the mother hopes she can hide from her darling, + but the babe’s of right good stock, an Alcmæonid, and the grandfather is that + Hermippus—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hermippus?</q> The stranger seemed to catch the word out of Dion’s mouth. A donkey + had broken loose at the upper end of the Agora; he turned and stared at it and its + pursuers intently. </p> + <p> + <q>If you’re Athenian,</q> went on the soothsayer, <q>the story’s an old one—of Glaucon + the Traitor.</q> + </p> + <p> The stranger turned back again. For a moment Dion saw he was blinking, but no doubt it + was dust. Then he suddenly began to fumble in his girdle. </p> + <p> + <q>What do you want, girl?</q> he demanded of Niobe, nigh fiercely. </p> + <p> + <q>Two obols.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Take two drachmæ. I was once a friend to that Glaucon, and traitor though he has been + blazed, his child is yet dear to me. Let me take him.</q> + </p> + <p> Without waiting her answer he thrust the coin into her hands, and caught the child out + of them. Phœnix looked up into the strange, bearded face, and deliberated an instant + whether to crow or to weep. Then some friendly god decided him. He laughed as sweetly, + as musically, as ever one can at his most august age. With both chubby hands he plucked + at the black beard and held tight. The strange sailor answered laugh with laugh, and + released himself right gayly. Then whilst Niobe and Dion watched and <pb n="347"/><anchor id="Pg347"/>wondered they saw the sailor kiss the child full fifty times, + all the time whispering soft words in his ear, at which Phœnix crowed and laughed yet + more. </p> + <p> + <q>An old family servant,</q> threw out Dion, in a whisper. </p> + <p> + <q>Sheep!</q> retorted the nurse, <q>do you call yourself wise? Do you think a man with + that face and those long hands ever felt the stocks or the whip? He’s gentleman born, + by Demeter!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>War makes many changes,</q> rejoined Dion. <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> is he beside + himself or a kidnapper? He is walking off with the babe.</q> + </p> + <p> The stranger indeed had seemed to forget them all and was going with swift strides up + the Agora, but just before Niobe could begin her outcry he wheeled, and brought his + merry burden back to the nurse’s arms. </p> + <p> + <q>You ought to be exceeding proud, my girl,</q> he remarked almost severely, <q>to have + such a precious babe in charge. I trust you are dutiful.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>So I strive, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>, but he grows very strong. One cannot keep + the swaddling clothes on him now. They say he will be a mighty athlete like his + father.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, yes—his father—</q> The sailor looked down. </p> + <p> + <q>You knew Master Glaucon well?</q> pressed Dion, itching for a new bit of gossip. </p> + <p> + <q>Well,</q> answered the sailor, standing gazing on the child as though something held + him fascinated, then shot another question. <q>And does the babe’s lady-mother + prosper?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>She is passing well in body, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>, but grievously ill in + mind. Hera give her a release from all her sorrow!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Sorrow?</q> The man’s eyes were opening wider, wider. <q>What mean you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Why, all Trœzene knows it, I’m sure.</q> + </p> + <pb n="348"/> + <anchor id="Pg348"/> + <p> + <q>I’m not from Trœzene. My ship made port from Naxos this morning. Speak, girl!</q> + </p> + <p> He seized Niobe’s wrist in a grip which she thought would crush the bone. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> Let go, sir, you hurt. Don’t stare so. I’m frightened. + I’ll tell as fast as I can. Master Democrates has come back from Corinth. Hermippus is + resolved to make the <hi rend="italic">kyria</hi> wed him, however bitterly she + resists. It’s taken a long time for her father to determine to break her will, but now + his mind’s made up. The betrothal is in three days, the wedding ten days + thereafter.</q> + </p> + <p> The sailor had dropped her hand. She shrank at the pallor of his face. He seemed + struggling for words; when they came she made nothing of them. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles, Themistocles—your promise!</q> + </p> + <p> Then by some giant exercise of will he steadied. His speech grew more coherent. </p> + <p> + <q>Give me the child,</q> he commanded, and Niobe mutely obeyed. He kissed Phœnix on + both cheeks, mouth, forehead. They saw that tears were running down his bronzed face. He + handed back the babe and again held out money,—a coin for both the slave girl and the + soothsayer,—gold half-darics, that they gaped at wonderingly. </p> + <p> + <q>Say nothing!</q> ordered the sailor, <q>nothing of what I have said or done, or as + Helios shines this noon, I will kill you both.</q> + </p> + <p> Not waiting reply, he went down the Agora at a run, and never looked back. It took + some moments for Dion and Niobe to recover their equanimity; they would have believed it + all a dream, but lo! in their hands gleamed the money. </p> + <p> + <q>There are times,</q> remarked the soothsayer, dubiously at last, <q>when I begin to + think the gods again walk the earth and work wonders. This is a very high matter. Even + I <pb n="349"/><anchor id="Pg349"/>with my art dare not meddle with it. It is best to + heed the injunction to silence. Wagging tongues always have troubles as their + children. Now let us proceed with my sacred cock and his divination.</q> + </p> + <p> Niobe got her philtre,—though whether it reconquered Procles is not contained in this + history. Likewise, she heeded Dion’s injunction. There was something uncanny about the + strange sailor; she hid away the half-daric, and related nothing of her adventure even + to her confidant Cleopis. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Three days later Democrates was not drinking wine at his betrothal feast, but sending + this cipher letter by a swift and trusty <q>distance-runner</q> to Sparta. </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q rend="post: none">Democrates to Lycon, greeting:—At Corinth I cursed you. + Rejoice therefore; you are my only hope. I am with you whether your path leads to + Olympus or to Hades. Tartarus is opened at my feet. You must save me. My words are + confused, do you think? Then hear this, and ask if I have not cause for turning + mad.</q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Yesterday, even as Hermippus hung garlands on his house, and summoned the guests to + witness the betrothal contract, Themistocles returned suddenly from Eubœa. He called + Hermippus and myself aside. <q><hi rend="italic">Glaucon lives</hi>,</q> he said, <q>and with the god’s help we’ll prove his innocence.</q> Hermippus at once broke off + the betrothal. No one else knows aught thereof, not even Hermione. Themistocles + refuses all further details. <q>Glaucon lives,</q>—I can think of nothing else. Where + is he? What does he? How soon will the awful truth go flying through Hellas? I + trembled when I heard he was dead. But name my terrors now I know he is alive! Send + Hiram. He, if any snake living, can find me my enemy before it is too late. And speed + the victory of Mardonius! <hi rend="italic">Chaire.</hi></q> </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon lives.</q> Democrates had only written one least part of his terrors. Two + words—but enough to make the orator the most miserable man in Hellas, the most supple + of Xerxes’s hundred million slaves. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="33" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="350"/> + <anchor id="Pg350"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXIII</head> + <head type="sub"> WHAT BEFELL ON THE HILLSIDE </head> + <p> Once more the Persians pressed into Attica, once more the Athenians,—or such few of + them as had ventured home in the winter,—fled with their movables to Salamis or + Peloponnesus, and an embassy, headed by Aristeides, hastened to Sparta to demand for the + last time that the tardy ephors make good their promise in sending forth their infantry + to hurl back the invader. If not, Aristeides spoke plainly, his people must perforce + close alliance with Mardonius. </p> + <p> Almost to the amazement of the Athenian chiefs, so accustomed were they to Dorian + doltishness and immobility, after a ten days’ delay and excuses that <q>they must + celebrate their festival the Hyacinthia,</q> the ephors called forth their whole levy. + Ten thousand heavy infantrymen with a host of lightly armed <q>helots</q><note place="foot">The serfs of the Spartans.</note> were started northward under the able + lead of Pausanias, the regent for Leonidas’s young son. Likewise all the allies of + Lacedæmon—Corinthians, Sicyonians, Elians, Arcadians—began to hurry toward the + Isthmus. Therefore men who had loved Hellas and had almost despaired for her took + courage. <q>At last we will have a great land battle, and an end to the Barbarian.</q> + </p> + <p> All was excitement in the Athenian colony at Trœzene. The board of strategi met and + voted that now was the time <pb n="351"/><anchor id="Pg351"/>for a crowning effort. Five + thousand men-at-arms should march under Aristeides to join against Mardonius in Bœotia. + By sea Themistocles should go with every available ship to Delos, meet the allied + squadrons there, and use his infallible art in persuading the sluggish Spartan high + admiral to conduct a raid across the Ægean at Xerxes’s own doors. Of the ten strategi + Democrates had called loudest for instant action, so loudly indeed that Themistocles had + cautioned him against rashness. Hermippus was old, but experienced men trusted him, + therefore he was appointed to command the contingent of his tribe. Democrates was to + accompany Aristeides as general adjutant; his diplomatic training would be invaluable in + ending the frictions sure to arise amongst the allies. Cimon would go with Themistocles, + and so every other man was sent to his place. In the general preparation private + problems seemed forgotten. Hermippus and Democrates both announced that the betrothal of + Hermione had been postponed, pending the public crisis. The old Eleusinian had not told + his daughter, or even his wife, why he had seemed to relax his announced purpose of + forcing Hermione to an unwelcome marriage. The young widow knew she had respite—for + how long nothing told her, but for every day her agony was postponed she blessed kind + Hera. Then came the morning when her father must go forth with his men. She still loved + him, despite the grief he was giving her. She did him justice to believe he acted in + affection. The gay ribbons that laced his cuirass, the red and blue embroidery that + edged his <q>taxiarch’s</q> cloak, were from the needle of his daughter. Hermione kissed + him as she stood with her mother in the aula. He coughed gruffly when he answered their + <q>farewell.</q> The house door closed behind him, and Hermione and Lysistra ran into + one another’s arms. They had given to Hellas their best, and now must look to Athena. </p> + <pb n="352"/> + <anchor id="Pg352"/> + <p> Hermippus and Aristeides were gone, Democrates remained in Trœzene. His business, he + said, was more diplomatic than military, and he was expecting advices from the islands + which he must take to Pausanias in person. He had a number of interviews with + Themistocles, when it was observed that every time he came away with clouded brow and + gruff answers to all who accosted. It began to be hinted that all was not as well as + formerly between the admiral and the orator, that Democrates had chosen to tie too + closely to Aristeides for the son of Neocles’s liking, and that as soon as the campaign + was decided, a bitter feud would break out betwixt them. But this was merest gossip. + Outwardly Democrates and Themistocles continued friends, dined together, exchanged + civilities. On the day when Themistocles was to sail for Delos he walked arm in arm with + Democrates to the quay. The hundreds of onlookers saw him embrace the young strategus in + a manner belying any rumour of estrangement, whilst Democrates stood on the sand waving + his good wishes until the admiral climbed the ladder of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. </p> + <p> It was another day and landscape which the stranger in Hellas would have remembered + long. The haven of Trœzene, noblest in Peloponnesus, girt by its two mountain + promontories, Methana and the holy hill Calauria, opened its bright blue into the deeper + blue of the Saronic bay. Under the eye of the beholder Ægina and the coasts of Attica + stood forth, a fit frame to the far horizon. Sun, sea, hills, and shore wrought together + to make one glorious harmony, endless variety, yet ordered and fashioned into a divine + whole. <q>Euopis,</q> + <q>The Fair-Faced,</q> the beauty-loving dwellers of the country called it, and they + named aright. </p> + <p> Something of the beauty touched even Hermione as she <pb n="353"/><anchor id="Pg353"/>stood on the hill slope, gazing across the sea. Only Cleopis was with her. The young + widow had less trembling when she looked on the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> than + when one year before the stately trireme had sailed for Artemisium. If ill news must + come, it would be from the plains of Bœotia. Most of Themistocles’s fleet was already at + Delos. He led only a dozen sail. When his squadron glided on into the blue deep, the + haven seemed deserted save for the Carthaginian trader that swung at her cables close + upon the land. As Hermione looked and saw the climbing sun change the tintings of the + waters, here spreading a line of green gold amidst the blue, here flashing the waves + with dark violet, something of the peace and majesty of the scene entered into her own + breast. The waves at the foot of the slope beat in monotonous music. She did not wonder + that Thetis, Galatea, and all the hundred Nereids loved their home. Somewhere, far off + on that shimmering plain, Glaucon the Beautiful had fallen asleep; whether he waked in + the land of Rhadamanthus, whether he had been stolen away by Leucothea and the other + nymphs to be their playfellow, she did not know. She was not sad, even to think of him + crowned with green seaweed, and sitting under the sea-floor with fish-tailed Tritons at + their tables of pearl, while the finny shoals like birds flitted above their heads. + Thales the Sage made all life proceed out of the sea. Perchance all life should return + to it. Then she would find her husband again, not beyond, but within the realms of great + Oceanus. With such beauty spreading out before her eyes the phantasy was almost welcome. </p> + <p> The people had wandered homeward. Cleopis set the parasol on the dry grass where it + would shade her mistress and betook herself to the shelter of a rock. If Hermione was + pleased to meditate so long, she would not deny her slave a siesta. So the Athenian sat + and mused, now sadly, now <pb n="354"/><anchor id="Pg354"/>with a gleam of brightness, + for she was too young to have her sun clouded always. </p> + <p> A speaker near by her called her out of her reverie. </p> + <p> + <q>You sit long, <hi rend="italic">kyria</hi>, and gaze forth as if you were Zeus in + Olympus and could look on all the world.</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione had not exchanged a word with Democrates since that day she cast scorn on him + on that other hill slope at Munychia, but this did not make his intrusion more welcome. + With mortification she realized that she had forgotten herself. That she lay on the + sunny bank with her feet outstretched and her hair shaken loose on her shoulders. Her + feet she instantly covered with her long himation. Her hands flew instantly to her hair. + Then she uprose, flushing haughtily. </p> + <p> + <q>It has pleased my father, sir,</q> she spoke with frigid dignity, <q>to tell me that + you are some day perchance to be my husband. The fulfilment lies with the gods. But + to-day the strategus Democrates knows our customs too well to thrust himself upon an + Attic gentlewoman who finds herself alone save for one servant.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, <hi rend="italic">kyria</hi>; pardon the word, it’s overcold; <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>, I’d say more gladly,</q> Democrates was marvellously at his ease + despite her frowns, <q>your noble father will take nothing amiss if I ask you to sit + again that we may talk together.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not think so.</q> Hermione drew herself up at full height. But Democrates + deliberately placed himself in the path up the hillside. To have run toward the water + seemed folly. She could expect no help from Cleopis, who would hardly oppose a man soon + probably to be her master. As the less of evils, Hermione did not indeed sit as desired, + but stood facing her unloved lover and hearkening. </p> + <p> + <q>How long I’ve desired this instant!</q> Democrates looked as if he might seize her + hands to kiss them, but she thrust <pb n="355"/><anchor id="Pg355"/>them behind her. <q>I know you hate me bitterly because, touching your late husband, I did my duty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Your duty?</q> Nestor’s eloquence was in her incredulous echo. </p> + <p> + <q>If I have pained you beyond telling, do you think my act was a pleasant one for me? A + bosom friend to ruin, the most sacred bonds to sever, last and not least, to give + infinite sorrow to her I love?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I hardly understand.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates drew a step nearer. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite the Golden—by what name shall I call my goddess?</q> + Hermione drew back a step. There was danger in his eyes. <q>I have loved you, loved you + long. Before Glaucon took you in marriage I loved you. But Eros and Hymen hearkened to + his prayers, not mine. You became his bride. I wore a bright face at your wedding. You + remember I was Glaucon’s groomsman, and rode beside you in the bridal car. You loved + him, he seemed worthy of you. Therefore I trod my own grief down into my heart, and + rejoiced with my friends. But to cease loving you I could not. Truly they say Eros is + the strongest god, and pitiless—do not the poets say bloody Ares begat him—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Spare me mythologies,</q> interposed Hermione, with another step back. </p> + <p> + <q>As you will, but you shall hearken. I have desired this moment for two years. Not as + the weak girl given by her father, but as the fair goddess who comes to me gladly, I + do desire you. And I know you will smile on me when you have heard me through.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Keep back your eloquence. You have destroyed Glaucon. That is enough.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hear me.</q> Democrates cried desperately now. Her<pb n="356"/><anchor id="Pg356"/>mione feared even to retreat farther, lest he pass to violence. She summoned courage + and looked him in the eye. </p> + <p> + <q>Say on, then. But remember I am a woman and alone save for Cleopis. If you profess to + love me, you will not forget that.</q> + </p> + <p> But Democrates was passing almost beyond the limits of coherent speech. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, when you come to me, you will not know what a price I have paid for you. In + Homer’s day men wooed their wives with costly gifts, but I—have I not paid for you + with my soul? My soul, I say—honour, friendship, country, what has weighed against + Himeros, <q>Master Desire,</q>—the desire ever for you!</q> + </p> + <p> She hardly understood him, his speech flowed so thick. She knew he was on the edge of + reason, and feared to answer lest she drive beyond it. </p> + <p> + <q>Do you hear the price I have paid? Do you still look on in cold hate, lady? Ah, by + Zeus, even in your coldest, most forbidding mood you are fair as the Paphian when she + sprang above the sea! And I will win you, lady, I will win your heart, for they shall + do you homage, even all Athens, and I will make you a queen. Yes! the house of Athena + on the Acropolis shall be your palace if you will, and they will cry in the Agora, <q>Way, way for Hermione, glorious consort of Democrates our king!</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Sir,</q> spoke Hermione, while her hands grew chill, for now she was sure he raved, + <q>I have not the joy to comprehend. There is no king in Athens, please Athena, there + never will be. Treason and blasphemy you speak all in one.</q> She sought vainly with + her eyes for refuge. None in sight. The hill slope seemed empty save for the scattered + brown boulders. Far away a goat was wandering. She motioned to Cleopis. The old woman + was staring now, and doubtless <pb n="357"/><anchor id="Pg357"/>thought Democrates was + carrying his familiarities too far, but she was a weak creature, and at best could only + scream. </p> + <p> + <q>Treason and blasphemy,</q> cried Democrates, dropping on his knees, his frame shaking + with dishonest passion, <q>yes! call them so now. They will be blessed truth for me in a + month, for me, for you. Hermes the Trickster is a mighty god. He has befriended Eros. + I shall possess Athens and possess you. I shall be the most fortunate mortal upon + earth as now I am most miserable. Ah! but I have waited so long.</q> He sprang to his + feet. <q>Tarry, <hi rend="italic">makaira</hi>, tarry! A kiss!</q> + </p> + <p> Hermione screamed at last shrilly and turned to fly. Instantly Democrates was upon + her. In that fluttering white dress escape was hopeless. </p> + <p> + <q>Apollo pursuing Daphne!</q>—his crazed shout as his arms closed around her,—<q>but + Daphne becomes no laurel this time. Her race is lost. She shall pay the forfeit.</q> + </p> + <p> She felt him seize her girdle. He swung her face to face. She saw his wide eyes, his + mad smile. His hot breath smote her cheek. Cleopis at last was screaming. </p> + <p> + <q>Mine,</q> he triumphed, while he forced her resisting head to his own, <q>there is + none to hinder!</q> + </p> + <p> But even while the woman’s flesh crept back at his impure kiss, a giant power came + rending the twain apart. A man had sundered them, sprung from the ground or from heaven + belike, or from behind a boulder? He tore Democrates’s hands away as a lion tears a + lamb. He dashed the mad orator prone upon the sod, and kicked him twice, as of mingled + hatred and contempt. All this Hermione only knew in half, while her senses swam. Then + she came to herself enough to see that the stranger was a young man in a sailor’s loose + dress, his features almost hidden under the dishevelled hair and beard. All this time he + uttered no word, but having smitten <pb n="358"/><anchor id="Pg358"/>Democrates down, + leaped back, rubbing his hands upon his thigh, as if despising to touch so foul an + object. The orator groaned, staggered upward. He wore a sword. It flew from its scabbard + as he leaped on the sailor. The stranger put forth his hand, snatched his opponent’s + wrist, and with lightning dexterity sent the blade spinning back upon the grass. Then he + threw Democrates a second time, and the latter did not rise again hastily, but lay + cursing. The fall had not been gentle. </p> + <p> But all this while Cleopis was screaming. People were hastening up the + hill,—fishermen from a skiff upon the beach, slaves who had been carrying bales to the + haven. In a moment they would be surrounded by a dozen. The strange sailor turned as if + to fly. He had not spoken one word. Hermione herself at last called to him. </p> + <p> + <q>My preserver! Your name! Blessed be you forever!</q> + </p> + <p> The fisherfolk were very close. Cleopis was still screaming. The sailor looked once + into the lady’s eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>I am nameless! You owe me nothing!</q> And with that he was gone up the hill slopes, + springing with long bounds that would have mocked pursuing, had any attempted. But + Cleopis quenched her outcry instantly; her screams had been drowned by a louder scream + from Hermione, who fell upon the greensward, no marble whiter than her face. The nurse + ran to her mistress. Democrates staggered to his feet. Whatever else the chastisement + had given him, it had restored his balance of mind. He told the fisherfolk a glib story + that a sailor wandering along the strand had accosted Hermione, that he himself had + chased the villain off, but had tripped whilst trying to follow. If the tale was not of + perfect workmanship at all points, there was no one with interest to gainsay it. A few + ran up the hill slope, but the sailor was nowhere in sight. Hermione was still + speechless. <pb n="359"/><anchor id="Pg359"/>They made a litter of oars and sail-cloth + and carried her to her mother. Democrates oiled Cleopis’s palm well, that she should + tell nothing amiss to Lysistra. It was a long time before Hermione opened her eyes in + her chamber. Her first words were:— </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon! I have seen Glaucon!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You have had a strange dream, <hi rend="italic">philotata</hi>,</q> soothed Lysistra, + shifting the pillows, <q>lie still and rest.</q> + </p> + <p> But Hermione shook her shining brown head and repeated, many times:— </p> + <p> + <q>No dream! No dream! I have seen Glaucon face to face. In that instant he spoke and + looked on me I knew him. He lives. He saved me. Ah! why does he stay away?</q> + </p> + <p> Lysistra, whose husband had not deemed it prudent to inform her of Themistocles’s + revelations, was infinitely distressed. She sent for the best physicians of the city, + and despatched a slave to the temple of Asclepius at Epidaurus—not distant—to + sacrifice two cocks for her daughter’s recovery. The doctors looked wise and recommended + heavy doses of spiced wine, and if those did not suffice, said that the patient might + spend a night in the temple of the Healer, who would no doubt explain the true remedy in + a dream. A <q>wise woman</q> who had great following among the slaves advised that a + young puppy be tied upon Hermione’s temples to absorb the disaffection of her brain. + Lysistra was barely persuaded not to follow her admonitions. After a few days the + patient grew better, recovered strength, took an interest in her child. Yet ever and + anon she would repeat over Phœnix’s cradle:— </p> + <p> + <q>Your father lives! I have seen him! I have seen him!</q> + </p> + <p> What, however, puzzled Lysistra most, was the fact that Cleopis did not contradict her + young mistress in the least, but maintained a mysterious silence about the whole + adventure. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="34" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="360"/> + <anchor id="Pg360"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXIV</head> + <head type="sub"> THE LOYALTY OF LAMPAXO </head> + <p> The night after his adventure on the hill slope Democrates received in his chambers no + less an individual than Hiram. That industrious Phœnician had been several days in + Trœzene, occupied in a manner he and his superior discreetly kept to themselves. The + orator had a bandage above one eye, where a heavy sandal had kicked him. He was + exceedingly pale, and sat in the arm-chair propped with pillows. That he had awaited + Hiram eagerly, betrayed itself by the promptness with which he cut short the inevitable + salaam. </p> + <p> + <q>Well, my dear rascal, have you found him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>May it please your Excellency to hearken to even the least of your slaves?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Do you hear, fox?—have you found him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>My Lord shall judge for himself.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Cerberus eat you, fellow,—though you’d be a poisonous mouthful,—tell your story in + as few words as possible. I <hi rend="italic">know</hi> that he is lurking about + Trœzene.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Compassion, your Lordship, compassion,</q>—Hiram seemed washing his hands in oil, + they waved so soothingly—<q>if your Benignity will grant it, I have a very worthy woman + here who, I think, can tell a story that will be interesting.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In with her, then.</q> + </p> + <p> The person Hiram escorted into the room proved to be no more nor less than Lampaxo. + Two years had not removed <pb n="361"/><anchor id="Pg361"/>the wrinkles from her cheek, + the sharpness from her nose, the rasping from her tongue. At sight of her Democrates + half rose from his seat and held out his hand affably, the demagogue’s instinct + uppermost. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! my good dame, whom do I recognize? Are you not the wife of our excellent + fishmonger, Phormio? A truly sterling man, and how, pray, is your good husband?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Poorly, poorly, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>.</q> Lampaxo looked down and fumbled her + dirty chiton. Such condescension on the part of a magnate barely less than Themistocles + or Aristeides was overpowering. </p> + <p> + <q>Poorly? I grieve to learn it. I was informed that he was comfortably settled here + until it was safe to return to Attica, and had even opened a prosperous stall in the + market-place.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>; and the trade, considering the times, is not + so bad—Athena be praised—and he’s not sick in body. It’s worse, far worse. I was + even on the point of going to your Lordship to state my misgivings, when your good + friend, the Phœnician, fell into my company, and I found he was searching for the very + thing I wanted to reveal.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!</q> Democrates leaned forward and battled against his impatience,—<q>and what is + the matter wherein I can be of service to so deserving a citizen as your husband?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I fear me,</q>—Lampaxo put her apron dutifully to her face and began to sniff,—<q>your Excellency won’t call him <q>deserving</q> any more. Hellas knows your + Excellency is patriotism itself. The fact is Phormio has <q>Medized.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Medized!</q> The orator started as became an actor. <q>Gods and goddesses! what trust + is in men if Phormio the Athenian has Medized?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hear my story, <hi rend="italic">mu! mu!</hi></q> groaned Lampaxo. <q>It’s a terrible + thing to accuse one’s own husband, but duty to <pb n="362"/><anchor id="Pg362"/>Hellas + is duty. Your Excellency is a merciful man, if he could only warn Phormio in + private.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Woman,</q>—Democrates pulled his most consequential frown,—<q>Medizing is treason. + On your duty as a daughter of Athens I charge you tell everything, then rely on my + wisdom.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Certainly, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>, certainly,</q> gasped Lampaxo, and so she + began a recital mingled with many moans and protestations, which Democrates dared not + bid her hasten. </p> + <p> The good woman commenced by reminding the strategus how he had visited her and her + brother Polus to question them as to the doings of the Babylonish carpet merchant, and + how it had seemed plain to them that Glaucon was nothing less than a traitor. Next she + proceeded to relate how her husband had enabled the criminal to fly by sea, and her own + part therein—for she loudly accused herself of treason in possessing a guilty knowledge + of the outlaw’s manner of escape. As for Bias, he had just now gone on a message to + Megara, but Democrates would surely castigate his own slave. <q>Still,</q> wound up + Lampaxo, <q>the traitor seemed drowned, and his treason locked up in Phorcys’s strong + box, and so I said nothing about him. More’s the pity.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The more reason for concealing nothing now.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus strike me if I keep back anything. It’s now about ten days since <hi rend="italic">he</hi> returned.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><q>He?</q> Whom do you mean?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It’s not overeasy to tell, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>. He calls himself Critias, + and wears a long black beard and tangled hair. Phormio brought him home one + evening—said he was the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi> of a Melian trireme + caulking at Epidaurus, but was once in the fish trade at Peiræus and an old friend. I + told Phormio we had enough these days to fill our own bellies, but my husband would be + hospitable. I had to bring out my best honey <pb n="363"/><anchor id="Pg363"/>cakes. + Your Lordship knows I take just pride in my honey cakes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Beyond doubt,</q>—Democrates’s hand twitched with impatience,—<q>but tell of the + stranger.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>At once, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>; well, we all sat down to sup. Phormio kept + pressing wine on the fellow as if we had not only one little jar of yellow Rhodian in + the cellar. All the time the sailor barely spoke a few words of island Doric, but my + heart misgave. He seemed so refined, so handsome. And near the roots of his hair it + was not so dark—as if dyed and needing renewal. Trust a woman’s eyes for that. When + supper was over Phormio orders me, <q>Up the ladder and to bed. I’ll come shortly, but + leave a blanket and pillow for our friend who sleeps on the hearth.</q> Your + Excellency knows we hired a little house on the <q>Carpenter’s Street,</q> very + reasonably you will grant—only half a minæ for the winter. I gave the stranger a fine + pillow and a blanket embroidered by Stephanium, she was my great-aunt, and left it to + me by will, and the beautiful red wool was from Byzantium—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But you spoke of Critias?</q> Democrates could scarce keep upon his seat. </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>. Well, I warned Phormio not to give him any more + wine. Then I went up the ladder. O Mother Demeter, how sharply I listened, but the + rascals spoke too low together for me to catch anything, save that Critias had dropped + his Doric and spoke good Attic now. At last Phormio came up to me, and I pretended to + snore. In the morning, lo! the scoundrelly stranger had slipped away. In the evening + he returns late. Phormio harbours him again. So for several nights, coming late, going + early. Then to-night he comes a bit before his wont. He and Phormio drank more than + common. After Phormio sent me away, they talked a long time and in louder voice.</q> + </p> + <pb n="364"/> + <anchor id="Pg364"/> + <p> + <q>You overheard?</q> Democrates gripped his arm-chair. </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>, blessed be Athena! The stranger spoke pure Attic + such as your Excellency might use. Many times I heard Hermione named, and yourself + once—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And how?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The stranger said: <q>So she will not wed Democrates. She loathes him. Aphrodite shed + joy on her forever.</q> Then Phormio answered him, <q>Therefore, dear Glaucon, you + should trust the gods a little longer.</q></q> + </p> + <p> + <q><q>Glaucon,</q> said he?</q> Democrates leaped from the chair. </p> + <p> + <q><q>Glaucon,</q> on my oath by the Styx. Then I covered my head and wept. I knew my + husband harboured the arch-traitor. Heaven can tell how he escaped the sea. As soon as + Phormio was sleeping snug beside me, I went down the ladder, intending to call the + watch. In the street I met a man, this good Phœnician here,—he explained he was + suspecting this <q>Critias</q> himself, and lurked about in hopes of tracing him in + the morning. I told my story. He said it was best to come straight to you. And now I + have accused my own husband, Excellency. <hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> was wife ever + harder beset? Phormio is a kindly and commonly obedient man, even if he doesn’t know + the value of an obol. You will be merciful—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace,</q> commanded Democrates, with portentous gravity, <q>justice first, mercy + later. Do you solemnly swear you heard Phormio call this stranger <q>Glaucon</q>?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>. Woe! woe!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you say he is now asleep in your house?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, the wine has made them both very heavy.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You have done well.</q> Democrates extended his hand again. <q>You are a worthy + daughter of Athens. In years to come they will name you with King Codrus who + sacrificed his life for the freedom of Attica, for have you not sacrificed what should + be dearer than life,—the fair name of your <pb n="365"/><anchor id="Pg365"/>husband? + But courage. Your patriotism may extenuate his crime. Only the traitor must be + taken.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes, he was breathing hard when I went out. Ah! seize him quickly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Retire,</q> commanded Democrates, with a flourish; <q>leave me to concert with this + excellent Hiram the means of thwarting I know not what gross villany.</q> + </p> + <p> The door had hardly closed behind Lampaxo, when Democrates fell as a heap into the + cushions. He was ashen and palsied. </p> + <p> + <q>Courage, master,</q>—Hiram was drawing a suggestive finger across his throat,—<q>the woman’s tale is true metal. Critias shall sleep snug and sweetly to-night, if + perchance too soundly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What will you do?</q> shrieked the wretched man. </p> + <p> + <q>The thing is marvellously simple, master. The night is not yet old. Hasdrubal and his + crew of Carthaginians are here and by the grace of Baal can serve you. This cackling + hen will guide us to the house. Heaven has put your enemy off his guard. He and + Phormio will never wake to feel their throats cut. Then a good stone on each foot + takes the corpses down in the harbour.</q> + </p> + <p> But Democrates dashed his hand in negation. </p> + <p> + <q>No, by the infernal gods, not so! No murder. I cannot bear the curse of the Furies. + Seize him, carry him to the ends of the earth, to hardest slavery. Let him never cross + my path again. But no bloodshed—</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram almost lost his never failing smile, so much he marvelled. </p> + <p> + <q>But, your Lordship, the man is a giant, mighty as Melkarth.<note place="foot">The + Phœnician Hercules.</note> Seizing will be hard. Sheol is the safest prison.</q> + </p> + <pb n="366"/> + <anchor id="Pg366"/> + <p> + <q>No.</q> Democrates was still shaking. <q>His ghost came to me a thousand times, + though yet he lived. It would hound me mad if I murdered him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">You</hi> would not murder him. Your slave is not afflicted by + dreams.</q> Hiram’s smile was extremely insinuating. </p> + <p> + <q>Don’t quibble with words. It would be I who slew him, though I never struck the blow. + You can seize him. Is he not asleep? Call Hasdrubal—bind Glaucon, gag him, drag him + to the ship. But he must not die.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Very good, Excellency.</q> Hiram seldom quarrelled to no purpose with his betters. <q>Let your Lordship deign to leave this small matter to his slave. By Baal’s favour + Hasdrubal and six of his crew sleep on shore to-night. Let us pray they be not deep in + wine. Wait for me one hour, perhaps two, and your heart and liver shall be + comforted.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Go, go! I will wait and pray to Hermes Dolios.</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram even now did not forget his punctilious salaam before departing. Never had he + seemed more the beautiful serpent with the shining scales than the instant he bent + gracefully at Democrates’s feet, the red light falling on his gleaming ear and nose + rings, his smooth brown skin and beady eyes. The door turned on its pivots—closed. + Democrates heard the retiring footsteps. No doubt the Phœnician was taking Lampaxo with + him. The Athenian staggered across the room to his bed and flung himself on it, laughing + hysterically. How absolutely his enemy was delivered into his hands! How the Moræ in + sending that Carthaginian ship, to do Lycon’s business and his, had provided the means + of ridding him of the haunting terror! How everything conspired to aid him! He need not + even kill Glaucon. He would have no blood guiltiness, he need not dread Alecto and her + sister Furies. He could trust Hiram and Hasdrubal to see to it that Glaucon never re<pb n="367"/><anchor id="Pg367"/>turned to plague him. And Hermione? Democrates laughed + again. He was almost frightened at his own glee. </p> + <p> + <q>A month, my nymph, a month, and you and your dear father, yes, Themistocles himself, + will be in no state to answer me <q>nay,</q>—though Glaucon come to claim you.</q> + </p> + <p> Thus he lay a long time, while the drip, drip from the water-clock in the corner told + how the night was passing. The lamp flickered and burned lower. He never knew the hours + to creep so slowly. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> At last, a knock; Scodrus, the yawning valet, ushering in a black and bearded sailor, + who crouched eastern fashion at the feet of the strategus. </p> + <p> + <q>You have seized him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Blessed be Moloch, Baal, and Melkarth! They have poured sleep upon my Lord’s + enemy.</q> The sailor’s Greek was harsh and execrable. <q>Your servants did even as + commanded. The woman let us in. The young man my Lord hates was bound and gagged + almost ere he could waken, likewise the fishmonger was seized.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Bravely done. I never forget good service. And the woman?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>She is retained likewise. I have hastened hither to learn the further will of my + Lord.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates arose hastily. </p> + <p> + <q>My himation, staff, and shoes, boy!</q> he ordered. <q>I will go forth myself. The + prisoners are still at the fishmonger’s house?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Even so, Excellency.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I go back with you. I must see this stranger with my own eyes. There must be no + mistake.</q> + </p> + <p> Scodrus stared widely when he saw his master go out into the dark, for his only escort + a black Carthaginian sailor <pb n="368"/><anchor id="Pg368"/>with a dirk a cubit long. + Democrates did not even ask for a lantern. None of the servants could fathom their + master’s doings of late. He gave strappings when they asked questions, and Bias was + away. </p> + <p> The streets of Trœzene were utterly deserted when Democrates threaded them. There was + no moon, neither he nor his companion were overcertain of the way. Once they missed the + right turn, wandered down a blind alley, and plunged into a pile of offal awaiting the + scavenger dogs. But finally the seaman stopped at a low door in a narrow street, and a + triple rap made it open. The scene was squalid. A rush-candle was burning on a table. + Around it squatted seven men who rose and bowed as the strategus entered. In the dim + flicker he could just recognize the burly shipmaster Hasdrubal and gigantic Hib, the + Libyan <q>governor,</q> whose ebon face betrayed itself even there. </p> + <p> + <q>We have expected you, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> said Hiram, who was one of + the group. </p> + <p> + <q>Thanks be to Hermes and to you all. I have told my guide already I will be grateful. + Where is he?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In the kitchen behind, your Lordship. We were singularly favoured. Hib had the cord + around his arms before he wakened. He could scarcely struggle despite his power. The + fishmonger awoke before Hasdrubal could nip him. For a moment we feared his outcries + would rouse the street. But again the gods blessed us. No one stirred, and we soon + throttled him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Take the light,</q> ordered Democrates. <q>Come.</q> + </p> + <p> Accompanied by Hiram, the orator entered the kitchen, a small square room. The + white-washed ceiling was blacked around the smoke-hole, a few pots and pans lay in the + corners, a few dying embers gleamed on the hearth. But Democrates had eyes only for two + objects,—human figures tightly bound lying rigid as <anchor id="corr368"/><corr sic="fagots">faggots</corr> in the further corner. </p> + <pb n="369"/> + <anchor id="Pg369"/> + <p> + <q>Which is he?</q> asked Democrates again, stepping softly as though going to danger. </p> + <p> + <q>The further one is Phormio, the nearer is my Lord’s enemy. Your Excellency need not + fear to draw close. He is quite secure.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Give me the candle.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates held the light high and trod gently over to the prostrate men. Hiram spoke + rightly that his victim was secure. They had lashed him hand and foot, using small + chains in lieu of cords. A bit of wood had been thrust into his mouth and tied with + twine under the ears. Democrates stood an instant looking down, then very deliberately + knelt beside the prisoner and moved the candle closer. He could see now the face hidden + half by the tangled black hair and beard and the gag—but who could doubt it?—the deep + blue eye, the chiselled profile, the small, fine lips, yes, and the godlike form visible + in its comeliness despite the bands. He was gazing upon the man who two years ago had + called him <q>bosom-friend.</q> + </p> + <p> The prisoner looked straight upward. The only thing he could move was his eyes, and + these followed Democrates’s least motion. The orator pressed the candle closer yet. He + even put out his hand, and touched the face to brush away the hair. A long look—and he + was satisfied. No mistake was possible. Democrates arose and stood over the prisoner, + then spoke aloud. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon, I have played at dice with Fortune. I have conquered. I did not ruin you + willingly. There was no other way. A man must first be a friend to himself, and then + friendly to others. I have cast in my lot with the Persians. It was I who wrote that + letter which blasted you at Colonus. Very soon there will be a great battle fought in + Bœotia. Lycon and I will make it certain that Mardonius <pb n="370"/><anchor id="Pg370"/>conquers. I am to be tyrant of Athens. Hermione shall be my wife.</q> + The workings of the prisoner’s face made Democrates wince; from Glaucon’s throat came + rattlings, his eyes were terrible. But the other drove recklessly forward. <q>As for + you, you pass this night out of my life. How you escaped the sea I know not and care + less. Hasdrubal will take you to Carthage, and sell you into the interior of Libya. I + wish you no misery, only you go where you shall never see Hellas again. I am merciful. + Your life is in my hands. But I restore it. I am without blood guiltiness. What I have + done you would have done, had you loved as I—had you been under necessity as I. Eros + is a great god, but Anangkë, Dame Necessity, is yet mightier. So to-night we + part—farewell.</q> + </p> + <p> A strong spasm passed through the prisoner’s frame. For a moment Democrates thought + the bonds would snap. Too strong. The orator swung on his heel and returned to the outer + room. </p> + <p> + <q>The night wanes, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> remarked Hasdrubal; <q>if these + good people are to be taken to the ship, it must be soon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>As you will. I do nothing more concerning them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fetch down the woman,</q> ordered Hasdrubal; in the mongrel Greek current amongst + Mediterranean sea-folk. Two of his seamen ascended the ladder and returned with Lampaxo, + who smirked and simpered at sight of Democrates and bobbed him a courtesy. </p> + <p> + <q>The traitor is seized, your Excellency. I hope your Excellency will see that he + drinks hemlock. You will be merciful to my poor husband, even if he must be arrested + for the night. Gods and goddesses! what are these men doing to me?</q> + </p> + <p> A stalwart Carthaginian was in the act of knotting a cord <pb n="371"/><anchor id="Pg371"/>around the good woman’s arms preparatory to pinioning them. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Kyrie! kyrie!</hi></q> she screamed, <q>they are binding me, too! + Me—the most loyal woman in Attica.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates scowled and turned his back on her. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Lordship surely intended this woman to be taken also,</q> suggested Hiram, + sweetly. <q>It cannot be he will leave such a dangerous witness at large.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of course not. Off with her!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Kyrie! kyrie!</hi></q> was her shriek, but quickly ended, for + Hasdrubal knitted his fingers around her throat. </p> + <p> + <q>A gag,</q> he ordered, and with a few more struggles Lampaxo stood helpless and + silent. </p> + <p> A little later the band was threading its stealthy way down the black streets. Four of + the Carthaginians carried Glaucon, slung hands and feet over a pole. They dared not + trust him on his feet. Phormio and Lampaxo walked, closely pinioned and pricked on by + the captain’s dagger. They were soon at the deserted strand, and their ship’s pinnace + lay upon the beach. Democrates accompanied them as far as the dark marge, and watched + while the boat glided out into the gloom of the haven. The orator paced homeward alone. + Everything had favoured him. He had even cleared himself of the curse of the Furies and + the pursuit of Nemesis. He had, he congratulated himself, shown marvellous qualities of + mercy. Glaucon lived? Yes—but the parching sand-plains of Libya would be as fast a + prison as the grave, and the life of a slave in Africa was a short one. Glaucon had + passed from his horizon forever. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="35" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="372"/> + <anchor id="Pg372"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXV</head> + <head type="sub"> MOLOCH BETRAYS THE PHŒNICIAN </head> + <p> Even whilst the boat pulled out to the trader, Hiram suggested that since his + superior’s <q>unfortunate scruples</q> forbade them to shed blood, at least they could + disable the most dangerous captive by putting out his eyes. But Hasdrubal, thrifty + Semite, would not hearken. </p> + <p> + <q>Is not the fellow worth five hundred shekels in the Carthage market?—but who will + give two for a blind dog?</q> + </p> + <p> And once at the ship the prisoners were stowed in the hold so securely that even Hiram + ceased to concern himself. In the morning some of the neighbours indeed wondered at + Phormio’s closed door and the silence of the jangling voice of Lampaxo; but the + fishmonger was after all an exile, and might have returned suddenly to Attica, now the + Persians had retreated again to Bœotia, and before these surmises could change to + misdoubting, the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> was bearing forth into the Ægean. </p> + <p> The business of Hasdrubal with the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> at Trœzene appeared + simple. The war had disturbed the Greek harvests. He had come accordingly with a cargo + of African corn, and was taking a light return lading of olive oil and salt fish. But + those who walked along the harbour front remarked that the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> + was hardly a common merchantman. She was a <q>sea-mouse,</q> long, shallow, and very + fast under sail; she also carried again an unwontedly heavy crew. When <pb n="373"/><anchor id="Pg373"/>Hasdrubal’s cargo seemed completed, he lingered a couple of + days, alleging he was repairing a cable; then the third morning after his nocturnal + adventure a cipher letter to Democrates sent the Carthaginian to sea. The letter went + thus:— </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q>Lycon, in the camp of the Greeks in Bœotia, to Democrates in Trœzene, + greeting:—The armies have now faced many days. The soothsayers declare that the + aggressor is sure to be defeated, still there has been some skirmishing in which your + Athenians slew Masistes, Mardonius’s chief of cavalry. This, however, is no great loss + to us. Your presence with Aristeides is now urgently needed. Send Hasdrubal and Hiram + at once to Asia with the papers we arranged in Corinth. Come yourself with speed to + the army. Ten days and this merry dice-throwing is ended. <hi rend="italic">Chaire!</hi></q> </p> + <p> Democrates immediately after this gave Hiram a small packet of papyrus sheets rolled + very tight, with the ominous injunction to <q>conceal carefully, weight it with lead, + and fling it overboard if there is danger of capture.</q> At which Hiram bowed more + elegantly than usual and answered, <q>Fear not; it shall be guarded as the priests guard + the ark of Moloch, and when next your slave comes, it is to salute my Lord as the + sovran of Athens.</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram smiled fulsomely and departed. An hour later the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> + ran out on the light wind around the point of Calauria and into the sparkling sea to + eastward. Democrates stood gazing after her until she was a dark speck on the horizon. </p> + <p> The speck at last vanished. The strategus walked homeward. Glaucon was gone. The + fateful packet binding Democrates irrevocably to the Persian cause was gone. He could + not turn back. At the gray of morning with a few servants he quitted Trœzene, and + hastened to join Aristeides and Pausanias in Bœotia. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> In the hold of the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>, where Hasdrubal had stowed his <pb n="374"/><anchor id="Pg374"/>unwilling passengers, there crept just enough sunlight to + make darkness visible. The gags had been removed from the prisoners, suffering them to + eat, whereupon Lampaxo had raised a truly prodigious outcry which must needs be silenced + by a vigorous anointing with Hasdrubal’s whip of bullock’s hide. Her husband and Glaucon + disdained to join a clamour which could never escape the dreary cavern of the hold, and + which only drew the hoots of their unmagnanimous guardians. The Carthaginians had not + misinterpreted Glaucon’s silence, however. They knew well they had a Titan in custody, + and did not even unlash his hands. His feet and Phormio’s were tied between two beams in + lieu of stocks. The giant Hib took it upon himself to feed them bean porridge with a + wooden spoon, making the dainty sweeter with tales of the parching heats of Africa and + the life of a slave under Libyan task-masters. </p> + <p> So one day, another, and another, while the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> rocked at + anchor, and the prisoners knew that liberty lay two short cable lengths away, yet might + have been in Atlantis for all it profited them. Phormio never reviled his wife as the + author of their calamity, and Lampaxo, with nigh childish earnestness, would protest + that surely Democrates knew not what the sailors did when they bound her. </p> + <p> + <q>So noble a patriot! An evil god bewitched him into letting these harpies take us. + Woe! woe! What misfortune!</q> + </p> + <p> To which plaint the others only smiled horribly and ground their teeth. </p> + <p> Phormio as well as Glaucon had heard the avowal of Democrates on the night of the + seizure. There was no longer any doubt of the answer to the great riddle. But + disheartening, benumbing beyond all personal anguish was the dread for Hellas. The + sacrifice at Thermopylæ vain. The glory of Salamis vain. Hellas and Athens enslaved. The + will of <pb n="375"/><anchor id="Pg375"/>Xerxes and Mardonius accomplished not because + of their valour, but because of their enemies’ infamy. </p> + <p> + <q>O gods, if indeed there be gods!</q> Glaucon was greatly doubting that at last; <q>if + ye have any power, if justice, truth, and honour weigh against iniquity, put that + power forth, or never claim the prayers and sacrifice of men again.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon was past dreading for himself. He prayed that Hermione might be spared a long + life of tears, and that Artemis might slay her quickly by her silent arrows. To follow + his thoughts in all their dark mazes were profitless. Suffice it that the night which + had brooded over his soul from the hour he fled from Colonus was never so dark as now. + He was too despairing even to curse. </p> + <p> The last hope fled when they heard the rattling of the cables weighing anchor. Soon + the soft slap of the water around the bow and the regular heaving motion told that the + <name type="ship">Bozra</name> was under way. The sea-mouse creaked and groaned through + all her timbers and her lading. The foul bilge-water made the hold stifling as a + charnel-house. Lampaxo, Hib being absent, began to howl and moan. </p> + <p> + <q>O Queen Hera! O Queen Hera, I die for a breath of air—I, the most patriotic woman in + Athens!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Silence, goodwife,</q> muttered Phormio, twisting desperately on the filthy straw + under him. <q>Have I not enough to fret about without the addition of your pipings?</q> + And he muttered underbreath the old saw of Hesiod:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">He who doth a woman trust,</q></l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Doth trust a den of thieves.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> + <q>Silence below there, you squealing sow,</q> ordered Hib, from the hatchway. <q>Must I + tan your hide again?</q> + </p> + <p> Lampaxo subsided. Phormio tugged vainly at his feet in the stocks. Glaucon said + nothing. A terrible hope had <pb n="376"/><anchor id="Pg376"/>come to him. If he could + not speedily die, at least he would soon go mad, and that would rescue him from his most + terrible enemy—himself. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> The <name type="ship">Bozra</name>, it has been said, headed not south but eastward. + Hasdrubal’s commission was to fetch Samos, where the still formidable fleet of the + Barbarian lay, and to put the precious packet from Democrates in the hands of Tigranes, + Xerxes’s commander-in-chief on the coast of Asia Minor. But although speed had been + enjoined, the voyage did not go prosperously. Off Belbina the wind deserted them + altogether, and Hasdrubal had been compelled to force his craft along by + sweeps,—ponderous oars, worked by three men,—but his progress at best was slow. Off + Cythnos the breeze had again arisen, but it was the Eurus from the southeast, worse than + useless; the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> had been obliged to ride at anchor off the + island for two days. Then another calm; and at last, <q>because,</q> said Hasdrubal + piously, <q>he had vowed two black lambs to the Wind God,</q> the breeze came clear and + cool from the north, which, if not wholly favourable, enabled the merchantman to plough + onward. It was the fifth day, finally, after quitting Trœzene, that the headlands of + Naxos came in sight at dawn, and the master began to take comfort. The fleet of the + Greeks—a fisherboat had told him—was swinging inactive at Delos well to the north and + westward, and he could fairly consider himself in waters dominated by the king. </p> + <p> + <q>A fortunate voyage,</q> the master was boasting to Hiram, as he sat at breakfast in + the stern-cabin above a platter of boiled dolphin; <q>two talents from the Persians for + acting as their messenger; a thousand drachmæ profit on the corn; a hundred from + Master Democrates in return for our little service, not to mention the profit on the + return cargo, and last but not least the three slaves.</q> + </p> + <pb n="377"/> + <anchor id="Pg377"/> + <p> + <q>Yes, the three slaves. I had almost forgotten about them.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You see, my dear Hiram,</q> quoth the master, betwixt two unwontedly huge mouthfuls, + <q>you see what folly it was of you to suggest putting out that handsome fellow’s + eyes. I am strongly thinking of selling him not to Carthage, but to Babylon. I know a + trader at Ephesus who makes a specialty of handsome youths. The satrap Artabozares has + commissioned him to find as many good-looking out-runners as possible. Also for his + harem—if this Glaucon were only a eunuch—</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram, breaking a large disk of bread, was smiling very suggestively before making + reply, when a sailor shouted at the hatch:— </p> + <p> + <q>Ships, master! Ships with oars!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In what quarter?</q> Hasdrubal sprang up, letting the dishes clatter. </p> + <p> + <q>From Myconus. They come up fast. Hib at the masthead counts eleven triremes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Baal preserve us!</q> The master at once clambered on deck. <q>The Greek fleet may be + quitting Delos. We must pray for wind.</q> + </p> + <p> It was a gray, hazy day after a dozen bright ones. The northerly breeze seemed + falling. The water spread out a sombre lead colour. The heights of Naxos were in sight + to starboard, but none too clearly. Much more interesting to Hasdrubal was the line of + dots spreading on the horizon to northwest. Despite the distance his keen eyes could + catch the rise and fall of the oar banks—<anchor id="corr377"/><corr sic="warships">war-ships</corr>, + not traders. Hib was right, and + Hasdrubal’s face grew longer. No triremes save the Greeks could be bearing thither, and + a merchantman, even from nominally neutral Carthage, caught headed for the king’s coasts + in those days of blazing war <pb n="378"/><anchor id="Pg378"/>was nothing if not fair + prize. The master’s decision was prompt. </p> + <p> + <q>They are far off. Put the ship before the wind.</q> + </p> + <p> The sea-mouse was fleet indeed for a trader, but unlike a trireme must count on her + canvas for her speed. With a piping breeze she could mock pursuit. In a calm she was + fearfully handicapped. However, for a moment Hasdrubal congratulated himself he could + slip away unnoticed. The distance was very great. Then his dark lips cursed. </p> + <p> + <q>Moloch consume me! If I see aright, we are chased.</q> + </p> + <p> Two vessels, in fact, seemed turning away from the rest. They were heading straight + after the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. A long race it would be, but with the gale so + light the chances were against the sea-mouse. Hasdrubal had no need to urge his crew to + rig out the oars and tug furiously, if they wished to escape a Greek prison and a slave + market. </p> + <p> The whole crew, forty black-visaged, black-eyed creatures, were soon busy over the + dozen great sweeps in a frantic attempt to force the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> beyond + danger. Panting, yelling, blaspheming, for a while they seemed holding their own, but + the master watched with sinking heart the waning breeze. At the end of an hour their + pursuers could be distinguished,—a tall trireme behind, but closer, pulling more + rapidly, a penteconter, a slim scouting galley working fifty oars in a single bank. </p> + <p> Hasdrubal began to shout desperately: <q>Wind, Baal, wind! Fill the sails, and seven + he-goats await thy altar in Carthage!</q> + </p> + <p> Either the god found the bribe too small or lacked the power to accept it. The breeze + did not stiffen. The sailors strove like demons at the sweeps, but almost imperceptibly + the gap betwixt them and the war-ships was narrowing.</p> + <pb n="379"/><anchor id="Pg379"/> + <p>Hiram, who had been rowing, now left his post to approach the master. </p> + <p> + <q>What of the captives? Crucifixion waits us all if they are found on the ship and tell + their story. Kill them at once and fling the bodies overboard.</q> + </p> + <p> Hasdrubal shook his head. </p> + <p> + <q>Not yet. Still a good chance. I’ll not cast five hundred bright shekels to the fish + till harder pressed. The breeze may strengthen.</q> Then he redoubled his shout. <q>Wind, Baal, wind!</q> + </p> + <p> But a little later the gap betwixt the sea-mouse and the penteconter had so dwindled + that even the master’s inborn thrift began to yield to prudence. </p> + <p> + <q>Hark you, Hib,</q> he cried from the helm. <q>Take Adherbal and Lars the Etruscan. + It’s a good ten furlongs to that cursed galley still, but we must have those prisoners + ready on deck. Over they go if the chase gets a bit closer.</q> + </p> + <p> The giant Libyan hastened to comply, while all the crew joined in the captain’s howl, + <q>Wind, Baal, wind!</q> and cried reckless vows, while they scanned the fateful + stretch of gray-green water behind the stern, whereon liberty if not life depended. </p> + <p> The trireme, pulling only one of her banks, was dropping behind, her navarch leaving + the tiring chase to the penteconter, but the latter hung on doggedly. </p> + <p> + <q>Curse those war-ships with their long oars and heavy crews,</q> growled Hib, + reappearing above the hatch with the prisoners. <q>The penteconter’s only nine furlongs + off.</q> + </p> + <p> He had been obliged to release the captives from the stocks, but Hib had taken the + precaution to place on the formidable athlete a pair of leg irons joined by a shackle. + Not merely were Glaucon’s arms pinioned by a stout cord, but the great <pb n="380"/><anchor id="Pg380"/>Libyan was gripping them tightly. Lars and Adherbal conducted + the other prisoners, whose feet, however, were not bound. For a moment the three + captives stood blinking at the unfamiliar light, unconscious of the situation and their + extremity, whilst Hasdrubal for the fortieth time measured the distance. The wind had + strengthened a little. Let it strengthen a trifle more and the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> would hold her own. Still her people were nearly spent with their toiling, + and the keen beak and large complement of the man-of-war made resistance madness if she + once came alongside. </p> + <p> + <q>Have ready sand-bags,</q> ordered Hasdrubal, <q>to tie to these wretches’ feet. Set + them by the boat mast, so the sail can hide our pretty deed from the penteconter. Have + ready an axe. We’ll bide a little longer, though, before we say <q>farewell</q> to our + passengers. The gods may help yet.</q> + </p> + <p> Hib and his fellows were marching the prisoners to the poop, when the sight of the + war-ship told Phormio all the story. No gag now hindered his tongue. </p> + <p> + <q>Oh, dragons from Carthage, are you going to murder us?</q> he began in tones more + indignant than terrified. </p> + <p> + <q>No, save as Heaven enjoins it!</q> quoth the master, clapping his hands to urge on + the rowing stroke. <q>Pray, then, your Æolus, Hellene, to stiffen the breeze.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Pray, then, to Pluto, whelps,</q> bawled the undaunted fishmonger, <q>to give you a + snug berth in Orcus. Ha! but it’s a merry thought of you and all your pretty lads + stretched on crosses and waiting for the crows.</q> + </p> + <p> But a violent screech came from Lampaxo, who had just comprehended the fate awaiting. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai! ai!</hi> save me, fellow-Hellenes!</q> she bawled toward the + penteconter, <q>a citizeness of Athens, the most patriotic woman in the city, + slaughtered by Barbarians—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Silence the squealing sow!</q> roared Hasdrubal. <q>They’ll <pb n="381"/><anchor id="Pg381"/>hear her on the war-ship. Aft with her and overboard at once.</q> + </p> + <p> But as they dragged Lampaxo on the poop, her outcry rose to a tempest till Lars the + Etruscan clapped his hand upon her mouth. Her screaming stilled, but his own outcry more + than replaced it. In a twinkling the virago’s hard teeth closed over his fingers. Two + ran from the oars to him. But the woman, conscious that she fought for life or death, + held fast. Curses, blows, even a dagger pried betwixt her lips—all bootless. She seemed + as a thing possessed. And all the time the Etruscan howled in mortal agony. </p> + <p> The thin dagger, bent too hard, snapped betwixt her teeth. Lars’s clamour could surely + be heard on the penteconter. Again the breeze was falling. </p> + <p> They seized the fury’s throat, and pressed it till she turned black, but the grip of + her jaw only tightened. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Attatai! attatai!</hi></q> groaned the victim, <q>forbear. Don’t + throttle her. Her teeth are iron. They are biting through the bone. If you strangle + her, they will never relax. <hi rend="italic">Attatai! attatai!</hi></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Nip him tight, little wife,</q> called Phormio, for once regarding his spouse with + supreme satisfaction. <q>It’s a dainty morsel you have in your mouth. Chew it well!</q> + </p> + <p> Lampaxo’s attackers paused an instant, uncertain how to release the Etruscan. To their + threats of torture the woman was deaf as the mainmast, and still the Etruscan screamed. </p> + <p> Glaucon had stood perfectly passive during all this grim by-play. Once Phormio saw his + fellow-captive’s face twist into a smile, but in the excitement of the moment the + fishmonger as well as the Carthaginians almost forgot the Isthmionices, and Hib relaxed + his grip and guard. Lars’s finger was streaming red, when Hasdrubal threw away the + steering-paddle in a rage. </p> + <pb n="382"/> + <anchor id="Pg382"/> + <p> + <q>Silence her forever! The axe, Hib. Split her skull open!</q> + </p> + <p> The axe lay at the Libyan’s feet. One instant, only one, betook his hands from the + athlete’s wrists to seize the weapon, but in that instant the yell from all the crew + drowned even the howls of Lars. Had any watched, they might have seen all the muscles in + the Alcmæonid’s glorious body contract, might have seen the fire spring from his eyes as + he put forth a godlike might. Heracles and Athena Polias had been with him when he threw + his strength upon the bands that held his arms. The crushing of Lycon down had been no + feat like this. In a twinkling the cords about his wrists were snapped. He swung his + free hands in the air. </p> + <p> + <q>Athens!</q> he shouted, whilst the crew stood spellbound. <q>Hermione! Glaucon is + still Glaucon!</q> + </p> + <p> Hib had grasped the axe, but he never knew what smote him once behind the ear and sent + him rolling lifeless against the bulwark. In an instant his bright weapon was swinging + high above the athlete’s head. Glaucon stood terrible as Achilles before the cowering + Trojans. </p> + <p> + <q>Woe! woe! he is Melkarth. We are lost men!</q> groaned the crew. </p> + <p> + <q>At him, fools!</q> bawled Hasdrubal, first to recover wits, <q>his feet are still + shackled.</q> + </p> + <p> But whilst the master called to them, the axe dashed down upon the fetters, and one + great stroke smote the coupling-link in twain. The Athenian stood a moment looking right + and left, the axe dancing as a toy in his grasp, and a smile on his face inviting, <q>Prove me.</q> + </p> + <p> A javelin singing from the hand of Adherbal flew at him. An imperceptible bending of + the body, a red streak on Glaucon’s naked side, and it dug into the deck. Yet whilst it + quivered, was out again and hurled through the Cartha<pb n="383"/><anchor id="Pg383"/>ginian’s breast and shoulders. He fell in a heap beside the Libyan. </p> + <p> Another howl from the sailors. </p> + <p> + <q>Not Melkarth, but Baal the Dragon-Slayer. We are lost. Who can contend with him?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Cowards!</q> thundered Hasdrubal, whipping the sword from his thigh, <q>do you not + know these three sniff our true business? If they live when the penteconter comes, + it’s not prison but Sheol that’s waiting. Their lives or ours. One rush and we have + this madman down!</q> + </p> + <p> But their terrible adversary gave the master no time to gather his myrmidons. One + stroke of the axe had already released Phormio, who clutched the arms of his wife. </p> + <p> + <q>The cabin!</q> the ready-witted fishmonger commanded, and Lampaxo, scarce knowing + what she did, released her ungentle hold on Lars and suffered her husband to drag her + down the ladder. Glaucon went last; no man loving death enough to come within reach of + the axe. Hasdrubal saw his victims escaping under his eyes and groaned. </p> + <p> + <q>There is only one hatchway. We must force it. Darts, belaying-pins, ballast + stones—fling anything down. It’s for life or death!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The penteconter is four furlongs away!</q> shrieked a sailor, growing gray under his + dark skin. </p> + <p> + <q>And Democrates’s despatches are hid in the cabin,</q> added Hiram, chattering. <q>If + they do not go overboard, our deaths will be terrible.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hear, King Moloch!</q> called Hasdrubal, lifting his swarthy arms to heaven, then + striking them with his sword till the blood gushed down, <q>suffer us to escape this + calamity and I vow thee even my daughter Tibaït,—a child in her tenth year,—she + shall die in thy holy furnace a sacrifice.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Hear, Baal! Hear, Moloch!</q> chorussed the crew; and <pb n="384"/><anchor id="Pg384"/>gathering courage from necessity seized boat-hooks, oars, dirks, and all other handy + weapons for their attack. </p> + <p> But below the released prisoners had not been idle. Never—Glaucon knew it—had his + brain been clearer, his invention more fertile than now, and Phormio was not too old to + cease to be a valiant helper. The cabin was small. A few spears and swords stood in the + rack about the mast. The athlete bolted the sliding hatch-cover, and tore down the + weapons. </p> + <p> + <q>Release your wife,</q> he ordered Phormio; <q>yonder sea chest is strong. Drag it + over to bar the hatch-ladder. Work as Titans if you hope for another sun.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai, ai, ai!</hi></q> screeched Lampaxo, who had released Lars’s + fingers only to resume her din, <q>we all perish. They are hewing the hatch-cover with + their axes. Hera preserve us! The wood splinters. We die.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We have no time to die,</q> called the athlete, <q>but only to save Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> A dozen blows beat the frail hatch-cover to splinters. A dark face with grinning teeth + showed itself. A heavy ballast stone grazed the athlete’s shoulder, but the intruder + fell back with a gurgling in his throat, his hands clutching the empty air. Glaucon had + sent a heavy spear clean through him. </p> + <p> More ballast stones, but the Titanic Alcmæonid had torn a mattress from a bunk, and + held it as effective shield. By main force the others dragged the chest across to the + hatchway, making the entrance doubly narrow. Vainly Hasdrubal stormed at his men to rush + down boldly. They barely dared to fling stones and darts, so fast their adversary sped + them back, and to the mark. </p> + <p> + <q>A god! a god! We fight against Heaven!</q> bleated the seamen. </p> + <pb n="385"/> + <anchor id="Pg385"/> + <p> Their groans were answered by the screechings of Lampaxo through the port-hole and the + taunts of Phormio. </p> + <p> + <q>Sing, sing, pretty Pisinoë, sweetest of the sirens,</q> tossed the fishmonger, + playing his part at Glaucon’s side; <q>lure that dear penteconter a little nearer. And + you, brave, gentle sirs, don’t try <q>to flay a skinned dog</q> by thrusting down + here. Your hands are just itching for the nails, I warrant!</q> + </p> + <p> Hasdrubal redoubled his vows to Moloch. In place of his daughter he substituted his + son, though the lad was fourteen years old and the darling of his parents. But the god + was not tempted even now. The attack on the cabin had called the sailors from the oars. + The penteconter consequently had gained fast upon them. The trireme behind was manning + her other banks and drawing down apace. Hiram cast a hopeless glance toward her. </p> + <p> + <q>I know those <q>eyes</q>—those red hawse-holes—the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>. + Come what may, Themistocles must not read the packet in the cabin. There is one + chance.</q> + </p> + <p> He approached the splintered hatchway and outstretched his hands—weaponless. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, good and gracious Master Glaucon, and your honest friends, your gods of Hellas + are very great and have delivered us, your poor slaves, into your hands. Your friends + approach. We will resist no longer. Come on deck; and when the ship is taken, entreat + the navarch to be merciful and generous.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Bah!</q> spat Phormio, <q>you write your promises in water, or better in oil, + black-scaled viper. We know what time of day it is with us, and what for you.</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram saw Glaucon’s hand rise with a javelin, and shrank shivering. </p> + <p> + <q>They won’t hearken. All’s lost,</q> he whimpered, his smile becoming ghastly. </p> + <pb n="386"/> + <anchor id="Pg386"/> + <p> + <q>Another rush, men!</q> pleaded Hasdrubal. </p> + <p> + <q>Lead the charge yourself, master!</q> retorted the seamen, sullenly. </p> + <p> The captain, swinging a cutlass, leaped down the bloodstained hatch. One moment the + desperate fury of his attack carried Glaucon backward. The two fought—sword against + axe—in doubtful combat. </p> + <p> + <q>Follow! follow!</q> called Hasdrubal, dashing Phormio aside with the flat of his + blade. <q>I have him at last!</q> But just as Hiram was leading down a dozen more, the + athlete’s axe swept past the sword, and fell like a millstone on the master’s skull. He + never screamed as he crashed upon the planks. </p> + <p> This was enough. The seamen were at the end of their valour. If they must die, they + must die. What use resisting destiny? </p> + <p> Slowly, slowly the moments crept for the three in the cabin. Even Lampaxo grew still. + They heard Hiram pleading frantically, vainly, for another attempt, and raving strange + things about Democrates, Lycon, and the Persian. Then behind the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> sounded the rushing of foam around a ram, the bumping of fifty oars plying + on the thole-pins. Into their sight shot the penteconter, the brass glistening on her + prow, the white blades leaping in rhythm. Marines in armour stood on the forecastle. A + few arrows pattered on the plankings of the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. Her abject + crew obeyed the demand to surrender. Their helmsman pushed over the steering-paddle, and + flung himself upon the deck. The sea-mouse went up into the wind. The grappling-irons + rattled over the bulwark. Glaucon heard the Phœnicians whining, <q>Mercy! mercy!</q> as + they embraced the boarders’ feet, then the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi>, in hearty + Attic, calling, <q>Secure the prisoners and rummage the prize!</q> + </p> + <pb n="387"/> + <anchor id="Pg387"/> + <p> Glaucon had suffered many things of late. He had faced intolerable captivity, + immediate death. Now around his eyes swam hot mist. He fell upon a sea chest, and for a + little cared not for anything around, whilst down his cheeks would flow the tears. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="36" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="388"/> + <anchor id="Pg388"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXVI</head> + <head type="sub"> THE READING OF THE RIDDLE </head> + <p> A hard chase. The rowers of the penteconter were well winded before they caught the + <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. A merchantman making for Asia was, however, undoubted + prize; the luckless crew could be sold in the Agora, the cargo of oil, fish, and pottery + was likewise of value. Cimon was standing on his poop, listening to the report of his + <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi>. </p> + <p> + <q>We’re all a mina richer for the race, captain, and they’ve some jars of their good + Numidian wine in the forecastle.</q> + </p> + <p> But here a seaman interrupted, staring blankly. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Kyrie</hi>, here’s a strange prize. Five men lie dead on the deck. + The planks are bloody. In the cabin are two men and a woman. All three seem mad. They + are Greeks. They keep us out, and bawl, <q>The navarch! show us the navarch, or Hellas + is lost.</q> And one of them—as true as that I sucked my mother’s milk—is + Phormio—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Phormio the fishmonger,</q>—Cimon dropped his steering oar,—<q>on a Carthaginian + ship? You’re mad yourself, man.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>See with your own eyes, captain. They’ll yield to none save you. The prisoners are + howling that one of these men is a giant.</q> + </p> + <p> For the active son of Miltiades to leap from bulwark to bulwark took an instant. Only + when he showed himself did the three in the cabin scramble up the ladder, covered with + <pb n="389"/><anchor id="Pg389"/>blood, the red lines of the fetters marked into wrist + and ankle. Lampaxo had thrown her dress over her head and was screaming still, despite + assurances. The third Hellene’s face was hid under a tangle of hair. But Cimon knew the + fishmonger. Many a morning had he haggled with him merrily for a fine mackerel or tunny, + and the navarch recoiled in horror at his fellow-citizen’s plight. </p> + <p> + <q>Infernal gods! You a prisoner here? Where is this cursed vessel from?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>From Trœzene,</q> gasped the refugee; <q>if you love Athens and Hellas—</q> + </p> + <p> He turned just in time to fling an arm about Hiram, who—carelessly guarded—was + gliding down the hatchway. </p> + <p> + <q>Seize that viper, bind, torture; he knows all. Make him tell or Hellas is lost!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Control yourself, friend,</q> adjured Cimon, sorely perplexed, while Hiram struggled + and began tugging out a crooked knife, before two brawny seamen nipped him fast and + disarmed. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah! you carrion meat,</q> shouted Phormio, shaking his fists under the helpless + creature’s nose. <q>Honest men have their day at last. There’s a gay hour coming before + Zeus claps the lid over you in Tartarus.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace,</q> commanded the navarch, who betwixt Phormio’s shouts, Lampaxo’s howls, and + Hiram’s moans was at his wit’s end. <q>Has no one on this ship kept aboard his + senses?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>If you will be so good, sir captain,</q> the third Hellene at last broke his silence, + <q>you will hearken to me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who are you?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>The <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi> of the <name type="ship">Alcyone</name> of Melos. + More of myself hereafter. But if you love the weal of Hellas, demand of this Hiram + where he concealed the treasonable despatches he received at Trœzene and now has + aboard.</q> + </p> + <pb n="390"/> + <anchor id="Pg390"/> + <p> + <q>Hiram? O Lord Apollo, I recognize the snake! The one that was always gliding around + Lycon at the Isthmus. If despatches he has, I know the way to get them. Now, + black-hearted Cyclops,</q>—Cimon’s tone was not gentle,—<q>where are your + papers?</q> + </p> + <p> Hiram had turned gray as a corpse, but his white teeth came together. </p> + <p> + <q>Phormio is mistaken. Your slave has none.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Bah!</q> threw out Cimon, <q>I can smell your lies like garlic. Silent still? Good, + see how I am better than Asclepius. I make the dumb talk by a miracle. A cord and + belaying-pin, Naon.</q> + </p> + <p> The seaman addressed passed a cord about the Phœnician’s forehead with a fearful + dexterity, and put the iron pin at the back of the skull. </p> + <p> + <q>Twist!</q> commanded Cimon. Two mariners gripped the victim’s arms. Naon pressed the + cord tighter, tighter. A beastlike groan came through the lips of the Phœnician. His + beady eyes started from his head, but he did not speak. </p> + <p> + <q>Again,</q> thundered the navarch, and as the cord stretched a howl of mortal agony + escaped the prisoner. </p> + <p> + <q>Pity! Mercy! My head bursts. I will tell!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Tell quick, or we’ll squeeze your brains out. Relax a little, Naon.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>In the boat mast.</q> Hiram spit the words out one by one. <q>In the cabin. There is + a peg. Pull it out. The mast is hollowed. You will find the papers. Woe! woe! cursed + the day I was born. Cursed my mother for bearing me.</q> + </p> + <p> The miserable creature fell to the deck, pressing his hands to his temples and moaning + in agony. No one heeded him now. Cimon himself ran below to the mast, and wrenched the + peg from its socket. Papyrus sheets were there, rolled compactly, covered with writing + and sealed. The navarch <pb n="391"/><anchor id="Pg391"/>turned over the packet + curiously, then to the amazement of the sailors seemed to stagger against the mast. He + was as pale as Hiram. He thrust the packet into the hands of his <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi>, who stood near. </p> + <p> + <q>What make you of this seal? As you fear Athena, tell the truth.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You need not adjure me so, captain. The device is simple: Theseus slaying the + Minotaur.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And who, in Zeus’s name, do you know in Athens who uses a seal like that?</q> + </p> + <p> Silence for a moment, then the <hi rend="italic">prōreus</hi> himself was pale. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Excellency does not mean—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates!</q> cried the trembling navarch. </p> + <p> + <q>And why not Democrates?</q> The words came from the released prisoner, who had been + so silent, but who had glided down and stood at Cimon’s elbow. He spoke in a changed + voice now; again the navarch was startled. </p> + <p> + <q>Is Themistocles on the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>?</q> asked the stranger, + whilst Cimon gazed on him spellbound, asking if he himself were growing mad. </p> + <p> + <q>Yes—but your voice, your face, your manner—my head is dizzy.</q> + </p> + <p> The stranger touched him gently on the hand. </p> + <p> + <q>Have I so changed, you quite forget me, Cimon?</q> + </p> + <p> The son of Miltiades was a strong man. He had looked on Hiram’s tortures with a laugh. + To his own death he would have gone with no eyelash trembling. But now the rest saw him + blench; then with a cry, at once of wonder and inexpressible joy, his arms closed round + the tattered outlaw’s neck. Treason or no treason—what matter! He forgot all save that + before him was his long-time comrade. </p> + <p> + <q>My friend! My boyhood’s friend!</q> and so for many times they kissed. </p> + <pb n="392"/> + <anchor id="Pg392"/> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> had followed the chase at easy distance, ready + with aid in case the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> resisted. Themistocles was in his + cabin with Simonides, when Cimon and Glaucon came to him. The admiral heard his young + navarch’s report, then took the unopened packet and requested Cimon and the poet to + withdraw. As their feet sounded on the ladder in the companionway, Themistocles turned + on the outlaw, it seemed, fiercely. </p> + <p> + <q>Tell your story.</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon told it: the encounter on the hillside at Trœzene, the seizure in Phormio’s + house, the coming of Democrates and his boasts over the captives, the voyage and the + pursuing. The son of Neocles never hastened the recital, though once or twice he widened + it by an incisive question. At the end he demanded:— </p> + <p> + <q>And does Phormio confirm all this?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>All. Question him.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Humph! He’s a truthful man in everything save the price of fish. Now let us open the + packet.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles was exceeding deliberate. He drew his dagger and pried the wrapper open + without breaking the seals or tearing the papyrus. He turned the strips of paper + carefully one by one, opened a casket, and drew thence a written sheet which he compared + painfully with those before him. </p> + <p> + <q>The same hand,</q> his remark in undertone. </p> + <p> He was so calm that a stranger would have thought him engaged with routine business. + Many of the sheets he simply lifted, glanced at, laid down again. They did not seem to + interest. So through half the roll, but the outlaw, watching patiently, at last saw he + eyebrows of the son of Neocles pressing ever closer,—sign that the inscrutable brain + was at its fateful work. </p> + <p> At last he uttered one word, <q>Cipher.</q> + </p> + <pb n="393"/> + <anchor id="Pg393"/> + <p> A sheet lay before him covered with broken words and phrases—seemingly without + meaning—but the admiral knew the secret of the Spartan <hi rend="italic">scytalē</hi>, the <q>cipher wood.</q> Forth from his casket came a number of rounded + sticks of varying lengths. On one after another he wound the sheet spirally until at the + fifth trial the scattered words came together. He read with ease. Then Themistocles’s + brows grew closer than before. He muttered softly in his beard. But still he said + nothing aloud. He read the cipher sheet through once, twice; it seemed thrice. Other + sheets he fingered delicately, as though he feared the touch of venom. All without + haste, but at the end, when Themistocles arose from his seat, the outlaw trembled. Many + things he had seen, but never a face so changed. The admiral was neither flushed nor + pale. But ten years seemed added to those lines above his eyes. His cheeks were + hollowed. Was it fancy that put the gray into his beard and hair? Slowly he rose; slowly + he ordered the marine on guard outside the cabin to summon Simonides, Cimon, and all the + officers of the flag-ship. They trooped hither and filled the narrow cabin—fifteen or + more hale, handsome Athenians, intent on the orders of the admiral. Were they to dash at + once for Samos and surprise the Persian? Or what other adventure waited? The breeze had + died. The gray breast of the Ægean rocked the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> softly. + The thranites of the upper oar bank were alone on the benches, and stroking the great + trireme along to a singsong chant about Amphitrite and the Tritons. On the poop above + two sailors were grumbling lest the penteconter’s people get all the booty of the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. Glaucon heard their grunts and complainings whilst he looked + on Themistocles’s awful face. </p> + <p> The officers ranged themselves and saluted stiffly. Themistocles stood before them, + his hands closed over the packet. <pb n="394"/><anchor id="Pg394"/>The first time he + started to speak his lips closed desperately. The silence grew awkward. Then the admiral + gave his head a toss, and drew his form together as a runner before a race. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates is a traitor. Unless Athena shows us mercy, Hellas is lost.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates is a traitor!</q> + </p> + <p> The cry from the startled men rang through the ship. The rowers ceased their chant and + their stroking. Themistocles beckoned angrily for silence. </p> + <p> + <q>I did not call you down to wail and groan.</q> He never raised his voice; his + calmness made him terrible. But now the questions broke loose as a flood. </p> + <p> + <q>When? How? Declare.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Peace, men of Athens; you conquered the Persian at Salamis, conquer now yourselves. + Harken to this cipher. Then to our task and prove our comrades did not die in + vain.</q> + </p> + <p> Yet despite him men wept on one another’s shoulders as became true Hellenes, whilst + Themistocles, whose inexorable face never relaxed, rewound the papyrus on the cipher + stick and read in hard voice the words of doom. </p> + <p> + <q rend="post: none">This is the letter secreted on the Carthaginian. The hand is + Democrates’s, the seals are his. Give ear.</q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q rend="post: none">Democrates the Athenian to Tigranes, commander of the hosts of + Xerxes on the coasts of Asia, greeting:—Understand, dear Persian, that Lycon and I as + well as the other friends of the king among the Hellenes are prepared to bring all + things to pass in a way right pleasing to your master. Even now I depart from Trœzene + to join the army of the allied Hellenes in Bœotia, and, the gods helping, we cannot + fail. Lycon and I will contrive to separate the Athenians and Spartans from their + other allies, to force them to give battle, and at the crisis cause the divisions + under our personal commands to retire, breaking the phalanx and making Mardonius’s + victory certain.</q> </p> + <pb n="395"/> + <anchor id="Pg395"/> + <p rend="font-size: small"> <q rend="post: none">For your part, excellent Tigranes, you must avoid the Hellenic + ships at Delos and come back to Mardonius with your fleet ready to second him at once + after his victory, which will be speedy; then with your aid he can readily turn the + wall at the Isthmus. I send also letters written, as it were, in the hand of + Themistocles. See that they fall into the hands of the other Greek admirals. They will + breed more hurt amongst the Hellenes than you can accomplish with all your ships. I + send, likewise, lists of such Athenians and Spartans as are friendly to his Majesty, + also memoranda of such secret plans of the Greeks as have come to my knowledge.</q> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>From Trœzene, given into the hands of Hiram on the second of Metageitnion, in the + archonship of Xanthippus. <hi rend="italic">Chaire!</hi></q> </p> + <p> Themistocles ceased. No man spoke a word. It was as if a god had flung a bolt from + heaven. What use to cry against it? Then, in an ominously low voice, Simonides asked a + question. </p> + <p> + <q>What are these letters which purport to come from your pen, Themistocles?</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral unrolled another papyrus, and as he looked thereon his fine face + contracted with loathing. </p> + <p> + <q>Let another read. I am made to pour contempt and ridicule upon my fellow-captains. I + am made to boast <q>when the war ends, I will be tyrant of Athens.</q> A thousand + follies and wickednesses are put in my mouth. Were this letter true, I were the vilest + wretch escaping Orcus. Since forged—</q> his hands clinched—<q>by that man, that man + whom I have trusted, loved, cherished, called <q>younger brother,</q> + <q>oldest son</q>—</q> He spat in rising fury and was still. </p> + <p> + <q><q>Fain would I grip his liver in my teeth,</q></q> cried the little poet, even in + storm and stress not forgetting his Homer. And the howl from the man-of-war’s men was as + the howl of beasts desiring their prey. But the admiral’s burst of anger ended. He stood + again an image of calm power. The voice that <pb n="396"/><anchor id="Pg396"/>had + charmed the thousands rang forth in its strength and sweetness. </p> + <p> + <q>Men of Athens, this is no hour for windy rage. Else I should rage the most, for who + is more wronged than I? One whom we loved is fallen—later let us weep for him. One + whom we trusted is false—later punish him. But now the work is neither to weep nor to + punish, but to save Hellas. A great battle impends in Bœotia. Except the Zeus of our + sires and Athena of the Pure Eyes be with us, we are men without home, without + fatherland. Pausanias and Aristeides must be warned. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> is the <q>Salaminia,</q>—the swiftest trireme in the fleet. Ours must + be the deed, and ours the glory. Enough of this—the men must hear, and then to the + oars.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles had changed from despair to a triumph note. There was uplift even to look + upon him. He strode before all his <anchor id="corr396"/><corr sic="lieutenant">lieutenants</corr> up and out + upon the poop. The long tiers of benches and the gangways filled with rowers peered up + at him. They had seen their officers gather in the cabin, and Dame Rumour, subtlest of + Zeus’s messengers, had breathed <q>ill-tidings.</q> Now the admiral stood forth, and in + few words told all the heavy tale. Again a great shout, whilst the bronzed men groaned + on the benches. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates is a traitor!</q> + </p> + <p> A deity had fallen from their Olympus; the darling of the Athenians’s democracy was + sunk to vilest of the vile. But the admiral knew how to play on their two hundred hearts + better than Orpheus upon his lyre. Again the note changed from despair to incitement, + and when at last he called, <q>And can we cross the Ægean as never trireme crossed and + pluck back Hellas from her fate?</q> thalamite, zygite, and thranite rose, tossing + their brawny arms into the air. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">We can!</hi></q> + </p> + <pb n="397"/> + <anchor id="Pg397"/> + <p> Then Themistocles folded his own arms and smiled. He felt the god was still with him. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Yet, eager as was the will, they could not race forth instantly. Orders must be + written to Xanthippus, the Athenian vice-admiral far away, bidding him at all hazards to + keep the Persian fleet near Samos. Cimon was long in privy council with Themistocles in + the state cabin. At the same time a prisoner was passed aboard the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name>, not gently bound,—Hiram, a precious witness, before the dogs had + their final meal on him. But the rest of the <name type="ship">Bozra’s</name> people found + a quicker release. The penteconter’s people decided their fate with a yell. </p> + <p> + <q>Sell such harpies for slaves? The money would stink through our pouches!</q> + </p> + <p> So two by two, tied neck to neck and heel to heel, the wretches were flung overboard, + <q>because we lack place and wood to crucify you,</q> called the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> governor, as he pushed the last pair off into the leaden sea,—for + the day was distant when the destruction of such Barbarian rogues would weigh even on + tender consciences. </p> + <p> So the Carthaginians ceased from troubling, but before the penteconter and the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> bore away to join the remaining fleet, another deed was done + in sight of all three ships. For whilst Themistocles was with Cimon, Simonides and + Sicinnus had taken Glaucon to the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> forecastle. Now as + the penteconter was casting off, again he came to view, and the shout that greeted him + was not of fear this time, but wonder and delight. The Alcmæonid was clean-shaven, his + hair clipped close, the black dye even in a manner washed away. He had flung off the + rough seaman’s dress, and stood forth in all his godlike beauty. </p> + <p> Before all men Cimon, coming from the cabin, ran and <pb n="398"/><anchor id="Pg398"/>kissed him once more, whilst the rowers clapped their hands. </p> + <p> + <q>Apollo—it is Delian Apollo! Glaucon the Beautiful lives again. <hi rend="italic">Io! + Io! pæan!</hi></q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes,</q> spoke Themistocles, in a burst of gladness. <q>The gods take one friend, + they restore another. Œdipus has read the sphinx’s riddle. Honour this man, for he is + worthy of honour through Hellas!</q> + </p> + <p> The officers ran to the athlete, after them the sailors. They covered his face and + hands with kisses. He seemed escaped the Carthaginian to perish in the embrace of his + countrymen. Never was his blush more boyish, more divine. Then a bugle-blast sent every + man to his station. Cimon leaped across to his smaller ship. The rowers of the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> ran out their oars, the hundred and seventy blades trailed + in the water. Every man took a long breath and fixed his eyes on the admiral standing on + the poop. He held a golden goblet set with turquoise, and filled with the blood-red + Pramnian wine. Loudly Themistocles prayed. </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus of Olympus and Dodona, Zeus Orchios, rewarder of the oath-breaker, to whom the + Hellenes do not vainly pray, and thou Athena of the Pure Eyes, give ear. Make our ship + swift, our arms strong, our hearts bold. Hold back the battle that we come not too + late. Grant that we confound the guilty, put to flight the Barbarian, recompense the + traitor. So to you and all other holy gods whose love is for the righteous we will + proffer prayer and sacrifice forever. Amen.</q> + </p> + <p> He poured out the crimson liquor; far into the sea he flung the golden cup. </p> + <p> + <q>Heaven speed you!</q> shouted from the penteconter. Themistocles nodded. The <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi> smote his gavel upon the sounding-board. The triple oar + bank rose as one and plunged into the foam. A long <q>h-a!</q> went up from the benches. + The race to save Hellas was begun. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="37" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="399"/> + <anchor id="Pg399"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXVII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE RACE TO SAVE HELLAS </head> + <p> The chase had cost the Athenians dear. Before the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> had + submitted to her fate, she had led the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> and her consort + well down into the southern Ægean. A little more and they would have lifted the shaggy + headlands of Crete. The route before the great trireme was a long one. Two thousand + stadia,<note place="foot">Nearly two hundred miles.</note> as the crow flies, sundered + them from the Euripus, the nearest point whence they could despatch a runner to + Pausanias and Aristeides; and what with the twistings around the scattered Cyclades the + route was one-fourth longer. But men had ceased reckoning distance. Their hearts were in + the flying oars, and at first the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> ran leaping across the + waves as leaps the dolphin,—the long gleaming blades springing like shuttles in the + hands of the ready crew. They had taken from the penteconter all her spare rowers, and + to make the great ship bound over the steel-gray deep was children’s play. <q>We must + save Hellas, and we can!</q> That was the thought of all from Themistocles to the + meanest thranite. </p> + <p> So at the beginning when the task seemed light and hands were strong. The breeze that + had betrayed the <name type="ship">Bozra</name> ever sank lower. Presently it died + altogether. The sails they set hung limp on the mast. The navarch had them furled. The + sea spread out before them, a glassy, leaden-coloured floor; <pb n="400"/><anchor id="Pg400"/>the waves roaring in their wake faded in a wide ripple far behind. To + hearten his men the <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi> ceased his beating on the + sounding-board, and clapped lips to his pipe. The whole trireme chorussed the familiar + song together:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Fast and more fast</q></l> + <l>O’er the foam-spray we’re passed.</l> + <l>And our creaking sails swell</l> + <l>To the swift-breathing blast,</l> + <l>For Poseidon’s wild steeds</l> + <l>With their manifold feet,</l> + <l>Like a hundred white nymphs</l> + <l>On the blue sea-floor fleet.</l> + <l>And we wake as we go</l> + <l>Gray old Phorcys below,</l> + <l>Whilst on shell-clustered trumpets</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">The loud Tritons blow!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">The loud Tritons blow!</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">All of Æolus’s train</q></l> + <l>Springing o’er the blue main</l> + <l>To our pæans reply</l> + <l>With their long, long refrain;</l> + <l>And the sea-folk upleap</l> + <l>From their dark weedy caves;</l> + <l>With a clear, briny laugh</l> + <l>They dance over the waves;</l> + <l>Now their mistress below,—</l> + <l>See bright Thetis go,</l> + <l>As she leads the mad revels,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">While loud Tritons blow!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">While loud Tritons blow!</l> + </lg> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">With the foam gliding white,</q></l> + <l>Where the light flash is bright.</l> + <l>We feel the live keel</l> + <l>Leaping on with delight;</l> + <l>And in melody wild</l> + <l>Men and Nereids and wind</l> + <l><pb n="401"/><anchor id="Pg401"/>Sing and laugh all their praise,</l> + <l>To the bluff seagods kind;</l> + <l>Whilst deep down below,</l> + <l>Where no storm blasts may go,</l> + <l>On their care-charming trumpets</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">The loud Tritons blow,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre: none">The loud Tritons blow.</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Bravely thus for a while, but at last Themistocles, watching from the poop with eyes + that nothing evaded, saw how here and there the dip of the blades was weakening, here + and there a breast was heaving rapidly, a mouth was panting for air. </p> + <p> + <q>The relief,</q> he ordered. And the spare rowers ran gladly to the places of those + who seemed the weariest. Only a partial respite. Fifty supernumeraries were a poor + stop-gap for the one hundred and seventy. Only the weakest could be relieved, and even + those wept and pled to continue at the benches a little longer. The thunderous threat of + Ameinias, that he who refused a proffered relief must stand all day by the mast with an + iron anchor on his shoulder, alone sufficed to make the malcontents give place. Yet + after a little while the singing died. Breath was too precious to waste. It was mockery + to troll of <q>Æolus’s winds</q> whilst the sea was one motionless mirror of gray. The + monotonous <q>beat,</q> + <q>beat</q> of the <hi rend="italic">keleustes’s</hi> hammer, and the creaking of the + oars in their leathered holes alone broke the stillness that reigned through the length + of the trireme. The penteconter and her prize had long since faded below the horizon. + With almost wistful eyes men watched the islets as they glided past one after another, + Thera now, then Ios, and presently the greater Paros and Naxos lay before them. They + relieved oars whenever possible. The supernumeraries needed no urging after their scanty + rest to spring to the place of him who was fainting, but hardly any man spoke a word. </p> + <pb n="402"/> + <anchor id="Pg402"/> + <p> The first time the relief went in Glaucon had stepped forward. </p> + <p> + <q>I am strong. I am able to pull an oar,</q> he had cried almost angrily when + Themistocles laid his hand upon him, but the admiral would have none of it. </p> + <p> + <q>You shall not. Sooner will I go on to the bench myself. You have been through the + gates of Tartarus these last days, and need all your strength. Are you not the + Isthmionices,—the swiftest runner in Hellas?</q> + </p> + <p> Then Glaucon had stepped back and said no more. He knew now for what Themistocles + reserved him,—that after the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> made land he must run, as + never man ran before across wide Bœotia to bear the tidings to Pausanias. </p> + <p> They were betwixt Paros and Naxos at last. Wine and barley cakes soaked in oil were + passed among the men at the oars. They ate without leaving the benches. And still the + sea spread out glassy, motionless, and the pennon hung limp on the mainmast. The <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi> slowed his beatings, but the men did not obey him. No + whipped cattle were they, such as rowed the triremes of Phœnicia, but freemen born, sons + of Athens, who called it joy to die for her in time of need. Therefore despite the <hi rend="italic">keleustes’s</hi> beats, despite Themistocles’s command, the rowing might + not slacken. And the black wave around the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> bow sang + its monotonous music. </p> + <p> But Themistocles ever turned his face eastward, until men thought he was awaiting some + foe in chase, and presently—just as a rower among the zygites fell back with the blood + gushing from mouth and nostrils—the admiral pointed his finger toward the sky-line of + the morning. </p> + <p> + <q>Look! Athena is with us!</q> + </p> + <p> And for the first time in hours those panting, straining men let the hot oar butts + slip from their hands, even trail <pb n="403"/><anchor id="Pg403"/>in the darkling + water, whilst they rose, looked, and blessed their gods. </p> + <p> It was coming, the strong kind Eurus out of the south and east. They could see the + black ripple springing over the glassy sea; they could hear the singing of the cordage; + they could catch the sweet sniff of the brine. Admiral and rower lifted their hands + together at this manifest favour of heaven. </p> + <p> + <q>Poseidon is with us! Athena is with us! Æolus is with us! We can save Hellas!</q> + </p> + <p> Soon the sun burst forth above the mist. All the wide ocean floor was adance with + sparkling wavelets. No need of Ameinias’s lusty call to bend again the sails. The + smaller canvas on the foremast and great spread on the mainmast were bellying to the + piping gale. A fair wind, but no storm. The oars were but helpers now,—men laughed, + hugged one another as boys, wept as girls, and let the benignant wind gods labour for + them. Delos the Holy they passed, and Tenos, and soon the heights of Andros lifted, as + the ship with its lading of fate flew over the island-strewn sea. At last, just as the + day was leaving them, they saw Helios going down into the fire-tinged waves in a parting + burst of glory. Darkness next, but the kindly wind failed not. Through the night no man + on that trireme slumbered. Breeze or calm, he who had an obol’s weight of power spent it + at the oars. </p> + <p> Long after midnight Themistocles and Glaucon clambered the giddy cordage to the ship’s + top above the swelling mainsail. On the narrow platform, with the stars above, the dim + tracery of the wide sail, the still dimmer tracery of the long ship below, they seemed + transported to another world. Far beneath by the glimmer of the lanterns they saw the + rowers swaying at their toil. In the wake the phosphorous bubbles ran away, opalescent + gleams springing upward, as if torches of Doris and her dancing Nereids. So much had <pb n="404"/><anchor id="Pg404"/>admiral and outlaw lived through this day they had + thought little of themselves. Now calmer thought returned. Glaucon could tell of many + things he had heard and thought, of the conversation overheard the morning before + Salamis, of what Phormio had related during the weary captivity in the hold of the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. Themistocles pondered long. Yet for Glaucon when standing + even on that calm pinnacle the trireme must creep over the deep too slowly. </p> + <p> + <q>O give me wings, Father Zeus,</q> was his prayer; <q>yes, the wings of Icarus. Let me + fly but once to confound the traitor and deliver thy Hellas,—after that, like Icarus + let me fall. I am content to die.</q> + </p> + <p> But Themistocles pressed close against his side. <q>Ask for no wings,</q>—in the + admiral’s voice was a tremor not there when he sped confidence through the crew,—<q>if + it be destined we save Hellas, it is destined; if we are to die, we die. <q>No man of + woman born, coward or brave, can shun the fate assigned.</q> Hector said that to + Andromache, and the Trojan was right. But we shall save Hellas. Zeus and Athena are + great <anchor id="corr404"/><corr sic="gods">gods.</corr> They did not give us glory at Salamis to make that + glory tenfold vain. We shall save Hellas. Yet I have fear—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Of what, then?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Fear that Themistocles will be too merciful to be just. Ah! pity me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I understand—Democrates.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I pray he may escape to the Persians, or that Ares may slay him in fair battle. If + not—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What will you do?</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral’s hold upon the younger Athenian’s arm tightened. </p> + <p> + <q>I will prove that Aristeides is not the only man in Hellas who deserves the name of + <q>Just.</q> When I was young, my <pb n="405"/><anchor id="Pg405"/>tutor would + predict great things of me. <q>You will be nothing small, Themistocles, but great, + whether for good or ill, I know not,—but great you will be.</q> And I have always + struggled upward. I have always prospered. I am the first man in Hellas. I have set my + will against all the power of Persia. Zeus willing, I shall conquer. But the Olympians + demand their price. For saving Hellas I must pay—Democrates. I loved him.</q> + </p> + <p> The two men stood in silence long, whilst below the oars and the rushing water played + their music. At last the admiral relaxed his hand on Glaucon. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> They will call me <q>Saviour of Hellas</q> if all goes + well. I shall be greater than Solon, or Lycurgus, or Periander, and in return I must + do justice to a friend. Fair recompense!</q> + </p> + <p> The laugh of the son of Neocles was harsher than a cry. The other answered nothing. + Themistocles set his foot on the ladder. </p> + <p> + <q>I must return to the men. I would go to an oar, only they will not let me.</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral left Glaucon for a moment alone. All around him was the night,—the stars, + the black æther, the blacker sea,—but he was not lonely. He felt as when in the + foot-race he turned for the last burst toward the goal. One more struggle, one supreme + summons of strength and will, and after that the triumph and the rest.—Hellas, Athens, + Hermione, he was speeding back to all. Once again all the things past floated out of the + dream-world and before him,—the wreck, the lotus-eating at Sardis, Thermopylæ, Salamis, + the agony on the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>. Now came the end, the end promised in + the moment of vision whilst he pulled the boat at Salamis. What was it? He tried not to + ask. Enough it was to be the end. He, like Themistocles, had supreme con<pb n="406"/><anchor id="Pg406"/>fidence that the treason would be thwarted. The gods were cruel, + but not so cruel that after so many deliverances they would crush him at the last. <q>The miracles of Zeus are never wrought in vain.</q> Had not Zeus wrought miracles for + him once and twice? The proverb was great comfort. </p> + <p> Suddenly whilst he built his palace of phantasy, a cry from the foreship dissolved it. </p> + <p> + <q>Attica, Attica, hail, all hail!</q> + </p> + <p> He saw upon the sky-line the dim tracery of the Athenian headlands <q>like a shield + laid on the misty deep.</q> Again men were springing from the oars, laughing, weeping, + embracing, whilst under the clear, unflagging wind the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> + sped up the narrowing strait betwixt Eubœa and the mainland. Dawn glowed at last, + unveiling the brown Attic shoreline with Pentelicus the marble-fretted and all his + darker peers. </p> + <p> Hour by hour they ran onward. They skirted the long low coast of Eubœa to the + starboard. They saw Marathon and its plain of fair memories stretching to port, and now + the strait grew closer yet, and it needed all the governor’s skill at the steering-oars + to keep the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> from the threatening rocks. Marathon was + behind at last. The trireme rounded the last promontory; the bay grew wider; the prow + was set more to westward. Every man—the faintest—struggled back to his oar if he had + left it—this was the last hundred stadia to Oropus, and after that the <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> might do no more. Once again the <hi rend="italic">keleustes</hi> piped, and his note was swift and feverish. The blades shot faster, + faster, as the trireme raced down the sandy shore of the Attic <q>Diacria.</q> Once in + the strait they saw a brown-sailed fisherboat, and the helm swerved enough to bring her + within hail. The fishermen stared at the flying trireme and her straining, wide-eyed + men. </p> + <pb n="407"/> + <anchor id="Pg407"/> + <p> + <q>Has there been a battle?</q> cried Ameinias. </p> + <p> + <q>Not yet. We are from Styra on Eubœa; we expect the news daily. The armies are almost + together.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And where are they?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Near to Platæa.</q> + </p> + <p> That was all. The war-ship left the fishermen rocking in her wake, but again + Themistocles drew his eyebrows close together, while Glaucon tightened the buckle on his + belt. Platæa,—the name meant that the courier must traverse the breadth of Bœotia, and + with the armies face to face how long would Zeus hold back the battle? How long indeed, + with Democrates and Lycon intent on bringing battle to pass? The ship was more than ever + silent as she rushed on the last stretch of her course. More men fell at the oars with + blood upon their faces. The supernumeraries tossed them aside like logs of wood, and + leaped upon their benches. Themistocles had vanished with Simonides in the cabin; all + knew their work,—preparing letters to Aristeides and Pausanias to warn of the bitter + truth. Then the haven at last: the white-stuccoed houses of Oropus clustering down upon + the shore, the little mole, a few doltish peasants by the landing gaping at the great + trireme. No others greeted them, for the terror of Mardonius’s Tartar raiders had driven + all but the poorest to some safe shelter. The oars slipped from numb fingers; the anchor + plunged into the green water; the mainsail rattled down the mast. Men sat on the benches + motionless, gulping down the clear air. They had done their part. The rest lay in the + hands of the gods, and in the speed of him who two days since they had called <q>Glaucon + the Traitor.</q> The messenger came from the cabin, half stripped, on his head a felt + skullcap, on his feet high hunter’s boots laced up to the knees. He had never shone in + more noble beauty. The crew watched Themistocles place a papyrus <pb n="408"/><anchor id="Pg408"/>roll in Glaucon’s belt, and press his mouth to the messenger’s ear in + parting admonition. Glaucon gave his right hand to Themistocles, his left to Simonides. + Fifty men were ready to man the pinnace to take him ashore. On the beach the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people saw him stand an instant, as he turned his face + upward to the <q>dawn-facing</q> gods of Hellas, praying for strength and swiftness. </p> + <p> + <q>Apollo speed you!</q> called two hundred after him. He answered from the beach with a + wave of his beautiful arms. A moment later he was hid behind a clump of olives. The <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people knew the ordeal before him, but many a man said + Glaucon had the easier task. He could run till life failed him. They now could only fold + their hands and wait. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> It was long past noon when Glaucon left the desolate village of Oropus behind him. The + day was hot, but after the manner of Greece not sultry, and the brisk breeze was + stirring on the hill slopes. Over the distant mountains hung a tint of deep violet. It + was early in Bœdromion.<note place="foot">Approximately September.</note> The + fields—where indeed the Barbarian cavalry men had not deliberately burned them—were + seared brown by the long dry summer. Here and there great black crows were picking, and + a red fox would whisk out of a thicket and go with long bounds across the unharvested + fields to some safer refuge. Glaucon knew his route. Three hundred and sixty stadia lay + before him, and those not over the well-beaten course in the gymnasium, but by rocky + goat trails and by-paths that made his task no easier. He started off slowly. He was too + good an athlete to waste his speed by one fierce burst at the outset. At first his road + was no bad one, for he skirted the willow-hung Asopus, the boundary stream be<pb n="409"/><anchor id="Pg409"/>twixt Attica and Bœotia. But he feared to keep too long upon + this highway to Tanagra, and of the dangers of the road he soon met grim warnings. </p> + <p> First, it was a farmstead in black ruin, with the carcass of a horse half burned lying + before the gate. Next, it was the body of a woman, three days slain, and in the centre + of the road,—no pleasant sight, for the crows had been at their banquet,—and hardened + though the Alcmæonid was to war, he stopped long enough to cast the ceremonial handful + of dust on the poor remains, as symbolic burial, and sped a wish to King Pluto to give + peace to the wanderer’s spirit. Next, people met him: an old man, his wife, his young + son,—wretched shepherd-folk dressed in sheepskins,—the boy helping his elders as they + tottered along on their staves toward the mountain. At sight of Glaucon they feebly made + to fly, but he held out his hand, showing he was unarmed, and they halted also. </p> + <p> + <q>Whence and whither, good father?</q> + </p> + <p> Whereat the old man began to shake all over and tell a mumbling story, how they had + been set upon by the Scythian troopers in their little farm near Œnophytæ, how he had + seen the farmhouse burn, his two daughters swung shrieking upon the steeds of the wild + Barbarians, and as for himself and his wife and son, Athena knew what saved them! They + had lost all but life, and fearful for that were seeking a cave on Mt. Parnes. Would not + the young man come with them, a thousand dangers lurked upon the way? But Glaucon did + not wait to hear the story out. On he sped up the rocky road. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, Mardonius! ah, Artazostra!</q> he was speaking in his heart, <q>noble and brave + you are to your peers, but this is your rare handiwork,—and though you once called me + friend, Zeus and Dikē still rule, there is a price for this and you shall tell it + out.</q> + </p> + <pb n="410"/> + <anchor id="Pg410"/> + <p> Yet he bethought himself of the old man’s warning, and left the beaten way. At the + long steady trot learned in the stadium, he went onward under the greenwood behind the + gleaming river, where the vines and branches whipped on his face; and now and again he + crossed a half-dried brook, where he swept up a little water in his hands, and said a + quick prayer to the friendly nymphs of the stream. Once or twice he sped through fig + orchards, and snatched at the ripe fruit as he ran, eating without slackening his + course. Presently the river began to bend away to westward. He knew if he followed it, + he came soon to Tanagra, but whether that town were held by the Persians or burned by + them, who could tell? He quitted the Asopus and its friendly foliage. The bare wide + plain of Bœotia was opening. Concealment was impossible, unless indeed he turned far + eastward toward Attica and took refuge on the foothills of the mountains. But speed was + more precious than safety. He passed Scolus, and found the village desolate, burned. No + human being greeted him, only one or two starving dogs rushed forth to snap, bristle, + and be chased away by a well-sent stone. Here and yonder in the fields were still the + clusters of crows picking at carrion,—more tokens that Mardonius’s Tartar raiders had + done their work too well. Then at last, an hour or more before the sunset, just as the + spurs of Cithæron, the long mountain over against Attica, began to thrust their bald + summits up before the runner’s ken, far ahead upon the way approached a cloud of dust. + The Athenian paused in his run, dashed into the barren field, and flung himself flat + between the furrows. He heard the hoof-beats of the wiry steppe horses, the clatter of + targets and scabbards, the shrill shouts of the raiders. He lifted his head enough to + see the red streamers on their lance tips flutter past. He let the noise die away before + he dared to take the road once more. <pb n="411"/><anchor id="Pg411"/>The time he lost + was redeemed by a burst of speed. His head was growing very hot, but it was not time to + think of that. </p> + <p> Already the hills were spreading their shadows, and Platæa was many stadia away. + Knowledge of how much remained made him reckless. He ran on without his former caution. + The plain was again changing to undulating foothills. He had passed Erythræ + now,—another village burned and deserted. He mounted a slope, was descending to mount + another, when lo! over the hill before came eight riders at full speed. What must be + done, must be done quickly. To plunge into the fallow field again were madness, the + horsemen had surely seen him, and their sure-footed beasts could run over the furrows + like rabbits. Glaucon stood stock still and stretched forth both hands, to show the + horsemen he did not resist them. </p> + <p> + <q>O Athena Polias,</q> uprose the prayer from his heart, <q>if thou lovest not me, + forget not thy love for Hellas, for Athens, for Hermione my wife.</q> + </p> + <p> The riders were on him instantly, their crooked swords flew out. They surrounded their + captive, uttering outlandish cries and chatterings, ogling, muttering, pointing with + their swords and lances as if debating among themselves whether to let the stranger go + or hew him in pieces. Glaucon stood motionless, looking from one to another and asking + for wisdom in his soul. Seven were Tartars, low-browed, yellow-skinned, flat of nose, + with the grins of apes. He might expect the worst from these. But the eighth showed a + long blond beard under his leather helm, and Glaucon rejoiced; the chief of the band was + a Persian and more amenable. </p> + <p> The Tartars continued gesturing and debating, flourishing their steel points right at + the prisoner’s breast. He regarded <pb n="412"/><anchor id="Pg412"/>them calmly, so + calmly that the Persian gave vent to his admiration. </p> + <p> + <q>Down with your lance-head, Rūkhs. By Mithra, I think this Hellene is brave as he + is beautiful! See how he stands. We must have him to the Prince.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Excellency,</q> spoke Glaucon, in his best court Persian, <q>I am a courier to the + Lord Mardonius. If you are faithful servants of his Eternity the king, where is your + camp?</q> + </p> + <p> The chief started. </p> + <p> + <q>On the life of my father, you speak Persian as if you dwelled in Eran at the king’s + own doors! What do you here alone upon this road in Hellas?</q> + </p> + <p> Glaucon put out his hand before answering, caught the tip of Rūkhs’s lance, and + snapped it short like a reed. He knew the way to win the admiration of the Barbarians. + They yelled with delight, all at least save Rūkhs. </p> + <p> + <q>Strong as he is brave and handsome,</q> cried the Persian. <q>Again—who are you?</q> + </p> + <p> The Alcmæonid drew himself to full height and gave his head its lordliest poise. </p> + <p> + <q>Understand, Persian, that I have indeed lived long at the king’s gates. Yes,—I have + learned my Aryan at the Lord Mardonius’s own table, for I am the son of Attaginus of + Thebes, who is not the least of the friends of his Eternity in Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> The mention of one of the foremost Medizers of Greece made the subaltern bend in his + saddle. His tone became even obsequious. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, I understand. Your Excellency is a courier. You have despatches from the + king?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Despatches of moment just landed from Asia. Now tell me where the army is + encamped.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By the Asopus, much to northward. The Hellenes lie to <pb n="413"/><anchor id="Pg413"/>south. Here, Rūkhs, take the noble courier behind you on the horse, and conduct + him to the general.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Heaven bless your generosity,</q> cried the runner, with almost precipitate haste, <q>but I know the country well, and the worthy Rūkhs will not thank me if I deprive + him of his share in your booty.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, yes, we have heard of a farm across the hills at Eleutheræ that’s not yet been + plundered,—handsome wenches, and we’ll make the father dig up his pot of money. Mazda + speed you, sir, for we are off.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yeh! yeh!</q> yelled the seven Tartars, none more loudly than Rūkhs, who had no + hankering for conducting a courier back into the camp. So the riders came and went, + whilst Glaucon drew his girdle one notch tighter and ran onward through the gathering + evening. </p> + <p> The adventure had been a warning. Once Athena had saved him, not perchance + twice,—again he took to the fields. He did not love the sight of the sun ever lower, on + the long brown ridge of Helicon far to west. Until now he scarce thought enough of self + to realize the terrible draughts he had made upon his treasure-house of strength. Could + it be that he—the Isthmionices, who had crushed down the giant of Sparta before the + cheering myriads—could faint like a weary girl, when the weal of Hellas was his to win + or lose? Why did his tongue burn in his throat as a coal? Why did those feet—so swift, + so ready when he sped from Oropus—lift so heavily? </p> + <p> As a flash it came over him what he had endured,—the slow agony on the <name type="ship">Bozra</name>, the bursting of the bands, the fight for life, the scene + with Themistocles, the sleepless night on the trireme. Now he was running as the wild + hare runs before the baying chase. Could it be that all this race was vain? </p> + <pb n="414"/> + <anchor id="Pg414"/> + <p> + <q>For Hellas! For Hermione!</q> + </p> + <p> Whilst he groaned through his gritted teeth, some malignant god made him misstep, + stumble. He fell between the hard furrows, bruising his face and hands. After a moment + he rose, but rose to sink back again with keen pain shooting through an ankle. He had + turned it. For an instant he sat motionless, taking breath, then his teeth came together + harder. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles trusts me. I carry the fate of Hellas. I can die, but I cannot fail.</q> + </p> + <p> It was quite dusk now. The brief southern twilight was ending in pale bars of gold + above Helicon. Glaucon rose again; the cold sweat sprang out upon his forehead. Before + his eyes rose darkness, but he did not faint. Some kind destiny set a stout pole upright + in the field,—perhaps for vines to clamber,—he clutched it, and stood until his sight + cleared and the pain a little abated. He tore the pole from the ground, and reached the + roadway. He must take his chance of meeting more raiders. He had one vast comfort,—if + there had been no battle fought that day, there would be none before dawn. But he had + still weary stadia before him, and running was out of the question. Ever and anon he + would stop his hobbling, take air, and stare at the vague tracery of the + hills,—Cithæron to southward, Helicon to west, and northward the wide dark Theban + plain. He gave up counting how many times he halted, how many times he spoke the magic + words, <q>For Hellas! For Hermione!</q> and forced onward his way. The moon failed, even + the stars were clouded. A kind of brute instinct guided him. At last—he guessed it was + nearly midnight—he caught once more the flashings of a shallow river and the dim + outlines of shrubbery beside the bank—again the Asopus. He must take care or he would + wander straight into Mardonius’s camp. Therefore <pb n="415"/><anchor id="Pg415"/>he + stopped awhile, drank the cool water, and let the stream purl around his burning foot. + Then he set his face to the south, for there lay Platæa. There he would find the + Hellenes. </p> + <p> He was almost unconscious of everything save the fierce pain and the need to go + forward even to the end. At moments he thought he saw the mountains springing out of + their gloom,—Helicon and Cithæron beckoning him on, as with living fingers. </p> + <p> + <q>Not too late. Marathon was not vain, nor Thermopylæ, nor Salamis. You can save + Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> Who spoke that? He stared into the solitary night. Was he not alone? Then phantasms + came as on a flood. He was in a kind of euthanasy. The pain of his foot had ceased. He + saw the Paradise by Sardis and its bending feathery palms; he heard the tinkling of the + Lydian harps, and Roxana singing of the magic Oxus, and the rose valleys of Eran. Next + Roxana became Hermione. He was standing at her side on the knoll of Colonus, and + watching the sun sink behind Daphni making the Acropolis glow with red fire and gold. + Yet all the time he knew he was going onward. He must not stop. </p> + <p> + <q>For Hellas! For Hermione!</q> + </p> + <p> At last even the vision of the Violet-Crowned City faded to mist. Had he reached the + end,—the rest by the fields of Rhadamanthus, away from human strife? The night was ever + darkening. He saw nothing, felt nothing, thought nothing save that he was still going + onward, onward. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> At some time betwixt midnight and dawning an Athenian outpost was pacing his beat + outside the lines of Aristeides. The allied Hellenes were retiring from their position + by the Asopus to a more convenient spot by Platæa, less exposed to the dreaded Persian + cavalry, but on the night march the <pb n="416"/><anchor id="Pg416"/>contingents had + become disordered. The Athenians were halting under arms,—awaiting orders from + Pausanias the commander-in-chief. The outpost—Hippon, a worthy charcoal-burner of + Archarnæ—was creeping gingerly behind the willow hedges, having a well-grounded fear of + Tartar arrows. Presently his fox-keen ears caught footfalls from the road. His shield + went up. He couched his spear. His eyes, sharpened by the long darkness, saw a man + hardly running, nor walking, yet dragging one foot and leaning on a staff. Here was no + Tartar, and Hippon sprang out boldly. </p> + <p> + <q>Halt, stranger, tell your business.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For Aristeides.</q> The apparition seemed holding out something in his hand. </p> + <p> + <q>That’s not the watchword. Give it, or I must arrest you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For Aristeides.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Zeus smite you, fellow, can’t you speak Greek? What have you got for our general?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For Aristeides.</q> + </p> + <p> The stranger was hoarse as a crow. He was pushing aside the spear and forcing a packet + into Hippon’s hands. The latter, sorely puzzled, whistled through his fingers. A moment + more the locharch of the scouting division and three comrades appeared. </p> + <p> + <q>Why the alarm? Where’s the enemy?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>No enemy, but a madman. Find what he wants.</q> + </p> + <p> The locharch in earlier days had kept an oil booth in the Athens Agora and knew the + local celebrities as well as Phormio. </p> + <p> + <q>Now, friend,</q> he spoke, <q>your business, and shortly; we’ve no time for + chaffering.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For Aristeides.</q> + </p> + <pb n="417"/> + <anchor id="Pg417"/> + <p> + <q>The fourth time he’s said it,—sheep!</q> cried Hippon, but as he spoke the newcomer + fell forward heavily, groaned once, and lay on the roadway silent as the dead. The + locharch drew forth the horn lantern he had masked under his chalmys and leaned over the + stranger. The light fell on the seal of the packet gripped in the rigid fingers. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles’s seal,</q> he cried, and hastily turned the fallen man’s face upward to + the light, when the lantern almost dropped from his own hand. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon the Alcmæonid! Glaucon the Traitor who was dead! He or his shade come back + from Tartarus.</q> + </p> + <p> The four soldiers stood quaking like aspen, but their leader was of stouter stuff. + Never had his native Attic shrewdness guided him to more purpose. </p> + <p> + <q>Ghost, traitor, what not, this man has run himself all but to death. Look on his + face. And Themistocles does not send a courier for nothing. This packet is for + Aristeides, and to Aristeides take it with speed.</q> + </p> + <p> Hippon seized the papyrus. He thought it would fade out of his hands like a spectre. + It did not. The sentinel dropped his spear and ran breathless toward Platæa, where he + knew was his general. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="38" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="418"/> + <anchor id="Pg418"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXVIII</head> + <head type="sub"> THE COUNCIL OF MARDONIUS </head> + <p> Never since Salamis had Persian hopes been higher than that night. What if the + Spartans were in the field at last, and the incessant skirmishing had been partly to + Pausanias’s advantage? Secure in his fortified camp by the Asopus, Mardonius could + confidently wait the turn of the tide. His light Tartar cavalry had cut to pieces the + convoys bringing provisions to the Hellenes. Rumour told that Pausanias’s army was ill + fed, and his captains were at loggerheads. Time was fighting for Mardonius. A joyful + letter he had sent to Sardis the preceding morning: <q>Let the king have patience. In + forty days I shall be banqueting even in Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> In the evening the Prince sat at council with his commanders. Xerxes had left behind + his own war pavilion, and here the Persians met. Mardonius sat on the high seat of the + dais. Gold, purple, a hundred torches, made the scene worthy of the monarch himself. + Beside the general stood a young page,—beautiful as Armaiti, fairest of the archangels. + All looked on the page, but discreetly kept their thoughts to whispers, though many had + guessed the secret of Mardonius’s companion. </p> + <p> The debate was long and vehement. Especially Artabazus, general of the rear-guard, was + loud in asserting no battle should be risked. He was a crafty man, who, the Prince <pb n="419"/><anchor id="Pg419"/>suspected, was his personal enemy, but his opinion was + worth respecting. </p> + <p> + <q>I repeat what I said before. The Hellenes showed how they could fight at Thermopylæ. + Let us retire to Thebes.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Bravely said, valiant general,</q> sneered Mardonius, none too civilly. </p> + <p> + <q>It is mine to speak, yours to follow my opinion as you list. I say we can conquer + these Hellenes with folded hands. Retreat to Thebes; money is plentiful with us; we + can melt our gold cups into coin. Sprinkle bribes among the hostile chiefs. We know + their weakness. Not steel but gold will unlock the way to Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> The generalissimo stood up proudly. </p> + <p> + <q>Bribes and stealth? Did Cyrus and Darius win us empire with these? No, by the + Fiend-Smiter, it was sharp steel and the song of the + <anchor id="corr419"/><corr sic="bowstring">bow-string</corr> that made Eran to + prosper, and prosper to this day. But lest Artabazus think that in putting on the lion + I have forgotten the fox, let the strangers now come to us stand forth, that he and + every other may know how I have done all things for the glory of my master and the + Persian name.</q> + </p> + <p> He smote with his commander’s mace upon the bronze ewer on the table. Instantly there + appeared two soldiers, between them two men, one of slight, one of gigantic, stature, + but both in Grecian dress. Artabazus sprang to his feet. </p> + <p> + <q>Who are these men—Thebans?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>From greater cities than Thebes. You see two new servants of the king, therefore + friends of us all. Behold Lycon of Sparta and Democrates, friend of Themistocles.</q> + </p> + <p> His speech was Persian, but the newcomers both understood when he named them. The tall + Laconian straightened his bull neck, as in defiance. The Athenian flushed. His head + seemed sinking betwixt his shoulders. Much worm<pb n="420"/><anchor id="Pg420"/>wood had + he drunk of late, but none bitterer than this,—to be welcomed at the councils of the + Barbarian. Artabazus salaamed to his superior half mockingly. </p> + <p> + <q>Verily, son of Gobryas, I was wrong. You are guileful as a Greek. There can be no + higher praise.</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince’s nostrils twitched. Perhaps he was not saying all he felt. </p> + <p> + <q>Let your praise await the issue,</q> he rejoined coldly. <q>Suffice it that these + friends were long convinced of the wisdom of aiding his Eternity, and to-night come + from the camp of the Hellenes to tell all that has passed and why we should make ready + for battle at the dawning.</q> He turned to the Greeks, ordering in their own tongue, + <q>Speak forth, I am interpreter for the council.</q> + </p> + <p> An awkward instant followed. Lycon looked on Democrates. </p> + <p> + <q>You are an Athenian, your tongue is readiest,</q> he whispered. </p> + <p> + <q>And you the first to Medize. Finish your handiwork,</q> the retort. </p> + <p> + <q>We are waiting,</q> prompted Mardonius, and Lycon held up his great head and began in + short sentences which the general deftly turned into Persian. </p> + <p> + <q>Your cavalry has made our position by the Asopus intolerable. All the springs are + exposed. We have to fight every time we try to draw water. To-day was a meeting of the + commanders, many opinions, much wrangling, but all said we must retire. The town of + Platæa is best. It is strong, with plenty of water. You cannot attack it. To-night our + camp has been struck. The troops begin to retire, but in disorder. The contingent of + each city marches by itself. The Athenians, thanks to Democrates, delay retreating; + the Spartans I have delayed also. I have per<pb n="421"/><anchor id="Pg421"/>suaded + Amompharetus, my cousin, who leads the Pitanate <hi rend="italic">mora</hi>,<note place="foot">A division in the Spartan army.</note> and who was not at the council, + that it is cowardly for a Spartan to retreat. He is a sheep-skulled fool and has + believed me. Consequently, he and his men are holding back. The other Spartans wait + for them. At dawn you will find the Athenians and Spartans alone near their old + camping ground, their allies straggling in the rear. Attack boldly. When the onset + joins, Democrates and I will order our own divisions to retire. The phalanxes will be + broken up. With your cavalry you will have them at mercy, for once the spear-hedge is + shattered, they are lost. The battle will not cost you twenty men.</q> + </p> + <p> Artabazus rose again and showed his teeth. </p> + <p> + <q>A faithful servant of the king, Mardonius,—and so well is all provided, do we brave + Aryans need even to string our bows?</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince winced at the sarcasm. </p> + <p> + <q>I am serving the king, not my own pleasure,</q> he retorted stiffly. <q>The son of + Gobryas is too well known to have slurs cast on his courage. And now what questions + would my captains ask these Greeks? Promptly—they must be again in their own lines, + or they are missed.</q> + </p> + <p> An officer here or there threw an interrogation. Lycon answered briefly. Democrates + kept sullen silence. He was clearly present more to prove the good faith of his Medizing + than for anything he might say. Mardonius smote the ewer again. The soldiers escorted + the two Hellenes forth. As the curtains closed behind them, the curious saw that the + features of the beautiful page by the general’s side were contracted with disgust. + Mardonius himself spat violently. </p> + <p> + <q>Dogs, and sons of dogs, let Angra-Mainyu wither them <pb n="422"/><anchor id="Pg422"/>forever. Bear witness, men of Persia, how, for the sake of our Lord the King, I hold + converse even with these vilest of the vile!</q> + </p> + <p> Soon the council was broken up. The final commands were given. Every officer knew his + task. The cavalry was to be ready to charge across the Asopus at gray dawn. With Lycon + and Democrates playing their part the issue was certain, too certain for many a grizzled + captain who loved the ring of steel. In his own tent Mardonius held in his arms the + beautiful page—Artazostra! Her wonderful face had never shone up at his more brightly + than on that night, as he drew back his lips from a long fond kiss. </p> + <p> + <q>To-morrow—the triumph. You will be conqueror of Hellas. Xerxes will make you satrap. + I wish we could conquer in fairer fight, but what wrong to vanquish these Hellenes + with their own sly weapons? Do you remember what Glaucon said?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What thing?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>That Zeus and Athena were greater than Mazda the Pure and glorious Mithra? To-morrow + will prove him wrong. I wonder whether he yet lives,—whether he will ever confess + that Persia is irresistible.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do not know. From the evening we parted at Phaleron he has faded from our + world.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>He was fair as the Amesha-Spentas, was he not? Poor Roxana—she is again in Sardis + now. I hope she has ceased to eat her heart out with vain longing for her lover. He + was noble minded and spoke the truth. How rare in a Hellene. But what will you do with + these two gold-bought traitors, <q>friends of the king</q> indeed?</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius’s face grew stern. </p> + <p> + <q>I have promised them the lordships of Athens and of Sparta. The pledge shall be + fulfilled, but after that,</q>—<pb n="423"/><anchor id="Pg423"/>Artazostra understood + his sinister smile,—<q>there are many ways of removing an unwelcome vassal prince, if I + be the satrap of Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And you are that in the morning.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>For your sake,</q> was his cry, as again he kissed her, <q>I would I were not satrap + of Hellas only, but lord of all the world, that I might give it to you, O daughter of + Darius and Atossa.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am mistress of the world,</q> she answered, <q>for my world is Mardonius. To-morrow + the battle, the glory, and then what next—Sicily, Carthage, Italy? For Mazda will + give us all things.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Otherwise talked Democrates and Lycon as they quitted the Persian pickets and made + their way across the black plain, back to the lines of the Hellenes. </p> + <p> + <q>You should be happy to-night,</q> said the Athenian. </p> + <p> + <q>Assuredly. I draw up my net and find it very full of mullets quite to my liking.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Take care it be not so full that it break.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Dear Democrates,</q>—Lycon slapped his paw on the other’s shoulder,—<q>why always + imagine evil? Hermes is a very safe guide. I only hope our victory will be so complete + Sparta will submit without fighting. It will be awkward to rule a plundered city.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I shudder at the thought of being amongst even conquered Athenians; I shall see a + tyrannicide in every boy in the Agora.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A stout Persian garrison in your Acropolis is the surest physic against that.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>By the dog, Lycon, you speak like a Scythian. Hellene you surely are not.</q> + </p> + <pb n="424"/> + <anchor id="Pg424"/> + <p> + <q>Hellene I am, and show my native wisdom in seeing that Persia must conquer and + trimming sail accordingly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Persia is not irresistible. With a fair battle—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>It will not be a fair battle. What can save Pausanias? Nothing—except a miracle sent + from Zeus.</q> + </p> + <p> + <anchor id="corr424"/><q>Such as what?</q><corr sic="what?+dq+sq"/> + </p> + <p> + <q>As merciful Hiram’s relenting and releasing your dear Glaucon.</q> Lycon’s chuckle + was loud. </p> + <p> + <q>Never, as you hope me to be anything save your mortal enemy, mention that name + again.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>As you like it—it’s no very pretty tale, I grant, even amongst Medizers. Yet it was + most imprudent to let him live.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You have never heard the Furies, Lycon.</q> Democrates’s voice was so grave as to dry + up the Spartan’s banter. <q>But I shall never see him again, and I shall possess + Hermione.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>A pretty consolation. <hi rend="italic">Eu!</hi> here are our outposts. We must pass + for officers reconnoitring the enemy. You know your part to-morrow. At the first + charge bid your division <q>wheel to rear.</q> Three words, and the thing is done.</q> + </p> + <p> Lycon gave the watchword promptly to one of Pausanias’s outposts. The man saluted his + officers, and said that the Greeks of the lesser states had retreated far to the rear, + that Amompharetus still refused to move his division, that the Spartans waited for him, + and the Athenians for the Spartans. </p> + <p> + <q>Noble tidings,</q> whispered the giant, as the two stood an instant, before each went + to his own men. <q>Behold how Hermes helps us—a great deity.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Sometimes I think Nemesis is greater,</q> said Democrates, once again refusing + Lycon’s proffered hand. </p> + <p> + <q>By noon you’ll laugh at Nemesis, <hi rend="italic">philotate</hi>, when we both drink + Helbon wine in Xerxes’s tent!</q> and away went Lycon into the dark. </p> + <pb n="425"/> + <anchor id="Pg425"/> + <p> Democrates went his own way also. Soon he was in the fallow-field, where under the + warm night the Athenians were stretched, each man in armour, his helmet for a pillow. A + few torches were moving. From a distance came the hum from a group of officers in + excited conversation. As the orator picked his way among the sleeping men, a locharch + with a lantern accosted him suddenly. </p> + <p> + <q>You are Democrates the strategus?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Certainly.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Aristeides summons you at once. Come.</q> + </p> + <p> There was no reason for refusing. Democrates followed. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="39" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="426"/> + <anchor id="Pg426"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XXXIX</head> + <head type="sub"> THE AVENGING OF LEONIDAS </head> + <p> Morning at last, ruddy and windy. The Persian host had been long prepared. The Tartar + cavalry with their bulls-hide targets and long lances, the heavy Persian cuirassiers, + the Median and Assyrian archers with their ponderous wicker-shields, stood in rank + waiting only the word that should dash them as sling-stones on Pausanias and his + ill-starred following. The Magi had sacrificed a stallion, and reported that the holy + fire gave every favouring sign. Mardonius went from his tent, all his eunuchs bowing + their foreheads to the earth and chorussing, <q>Victory to our Lord, to Persia, and to + the King.</q> + </p> + <p> They brought Mardonius his favourite horse, a white steed of the sacred breed of + Nisæa. The Prince had bound around his turban the gemmed tiara Xerxes had given him on + his wedding-day. Few could wield the Babylonish cimeter that danced in the chieftain’s + hand. The captains cheered him loudly, as they might have cheered the king. </p> + <p> + <q>Life to the general! To the satrap of Hellas!</q> + </p> + <p> But beside the Nisæan pranced another, lighter and with a lighter mount. The rider was + cased in silvered scale-armour, and bore only a steel-tipped reed. </p> + <p> + <q>The general’s page,</q> ran the whisper, and other whispers, far softer, followed. + None heard the quick words passed back and forth betwixt the two riders. </p> + <pb n="427"/> + <anchor id="Pg427"/> + <p> + <q>You may be riding to death, Artazostra. What place is a battle for women?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What place is the camp for the daughter of Darius, when her husband rides to war? We + triumph together; we perish together. It shall be as Mazda decrees.</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius answered nothing. Long since he had learned the folly of setting his will + against that of the masterful princess at his side. And was not victory certain? Was not + Artazostra doing even as Semiramis of Nineveh had done of old? </p> + <p> + <q>The army is ready, Excellency,</q> declared an adjutant, bowing in his saddle. </p> + <p> + <q>Forward, then, but slowly, to await the reconnoitring parties sent toward the + Greeks.</q> + </p> + <p> In the gray morning the host wound out of the stockaded camp. The women and grooms + called fair wishes after them. The far slopes of Cithæron were reddening. A breeze + whistled down the hills. It would disperse the mist. Soon the leader of the scouts came + galloping, leaped down and salaamed to the general. <q>Let my Lord’s liver find peace. + All is even as our friends declared. The enemy have in part fled far away. The + Athenians halt on a foot-hill of the mountain. The Laconians sit in companies on the + ground, waiting their division that will not retreat. Let my Lord charge, and glory + waits for Eran!</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius’s cimeter swung high. </p> + <p> + <q>Forward, all! Mazda fights for us. Bid our allies the Thebans<note place="foot">Who + in full force had joined the Persians.</note> attack the Athenians. Ours is the + nobler prey—even the men of Sparta.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Victory to the king!</q> thundered the thousands. Confident of triumph, Mardonius + suffered the ranks to be broken, as his myriads rushed onward. Over the Asopus and its + <pb n="428"/><anchor id="Pg428"/>shallow fords they swept, and raced across the + plain-land. Horse mingled with foot; Persians with Tartars. The howlings in a score of + tongues, the bray of cymbals and kettledrums, the clamour of spear-butts beaten on + armour—who may tell it? Having unleashed his wild beasts, Mardonius dashed before to + guide their ragings as he might. The white Nisæan and its companion led the way across + the hard plain. Behind, as when in the springtime flood the watery wall goes crashing + down the valley, so spread the thousands. A god looking from heaven would not have + forgotten that sight of whirling plumes, plunging steeds, flying steel, in all the æons. </p> + <p> Five stadia, six, seven, eight,—so Mardonius led. Already before him he could see the + glistering crests and long files of the Spartans—the prey he would crush with one + stroke as a vulture swoops over the sparrow. Then nigh involuntarily his hand drew rein. + What came to greet him? A man on foot—no horseman even. A man of huge stature running + at headlong speed. </p> + <p> The risen sun was now dazzling. The general clapped his hand above his eyes. Then a + tug on the bridle sent the Nisæan on his haunches. </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon, as Mazda made me!</q> + </p> + <p> The Spartan was beside them soon, he had run so swiftly. He was so dazed he barely + heeded Mardonius’s call to halt and tell his tale. He was almost naked. His face was + black with fear, never more brutish or loathsome. </p> + <p> + <q>All is betrayed. Democrates is seized. Pausanias and Aristeides are warned. They will + give you fair battle. I barely escaped.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Who betrayed you?</q> cried the Prince. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon the Alcmæonid, he is risen from the dead. <hi rend="italic">Ai!</hi> woe! no + fault of mine.</q> + </p> + <pb n="429"/> + <anchor id="Pg429"/> + <p> Never before had the son of Gobryas smiled so fiercely as when the giant cowered + beneath his darting eyes. The general’s sword whistled down on the skull of the traitor. + The Laconian sprawled in the dust without a groan. Mardonius laughed horribly. </p> + <p> + <q>A fair price then for unlucky villany. Blessed be Mithra, who suffers me to give + recompense. Wish me joy,</q>—as his captains came galloping around him,—<q>our duty + to the king is finished. We shall win Hellas in fair battle.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Then it were well, Excellency,</q> thrust in Artabazus, <q>since the plot is foiled, + to retire to the camp.</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius’s eyes flashed lightnings. </p> + <p> + <q>Woman’s counsel that! Are we not here to conquer Hellas? Yes, by Mithra the Glorious, + we will fight, though every <hi rend="italic">dæva</hi> in hell joins against us. + Re-form the ranks. Halt the charge. Let the bowmen crush the Spartans with their + arrows. Then we will see if these Greeks are stouter than Babylonian, Lydian, and + Egyptian who played their game with Persia to sore cost. And you, Artabazus, to your + rear-guard, and do your duty well.</q> + </p> + <p> The general bowed stiffly. He knew the son of Gobryas, and that disobedience would + have brought Mardonius’s cimeter upon his own helmet. By a great effort the charge was + stayed,—barely in time,—for to have flung that disorganized horde on the waiting + Spartan spears would have been worse than madness. A single stadium sundered the two + hosts when Mardonius brought his men to a stand, set his strong divisions of bowmen in + array behind their wall of shields, and drew up his cavalry on the flanks of the bowmen. + Battle he would give, but it must be cautious battle now, and he did not love the + silence which reigned among the motionless lines of the Spartans. </p> + <p> It was bright day at last. The two armies—the whole <pb n="430"/><anchor id="Pg430"/>strength of the Barbarian, the Spartans with only their Tegean allies—stood facing, + as athletes measuring strength before the grapple. The Spartan line was thinner than + Mardonius’s: no cavalry, few bowmen, but shield was set beside shield, and everywhere + tossed the black and scarlet plumes of the helmets. Men who remembered Thermopylæ + gripped their spear-stocks tighter. No long postponing now. On this narrow field, this + bit of pebble and greensward, the gods would cast the last dice for the destiny of + Hellas. All knew that. </p> + <p> The stolidity of the Spartans was maddening. They stood like bronze statues. In clear + view at the front was a tall man in scarlet chlamys, and two more in white,—Pausanias + and his seers examining the entrails of doves, seeking a fair omen for the battle. + Mardonius drew the turban lower over his eyes. </p> + <p> + <q>An end to this truce. Begin your arrows.</q> + </p> + <p> A cloud of bolts answered him. The Persian archers emptied their quivers. They could + see men falling among the foe, but still Pausanias stood beside the seers, still he gave + no signal to advance. The omens doubtless were unfavourable. His men never shifted a + foot as the storm of death flew over them. Their rigidity was more terrifying than any + battle-shout. What were these men whose iron discipline bound so fast that they could be + pelted to death, and no eyelash seem to quiver? The archers renewed their volley. They + shot against a rock. The Barbarians joined in one rending yell,—their answer was + silence. </p> + <p> Deliberately, arrows dropping around him as tree-blossoms in the gale, Pausanias + raised his hand. The omens were good. The gods permitted battle. Deliberately, while men + fell dying, he walked to his post on the right wing. Deliberately, while heaven seemed + shaking with the Barbarians’ <pb n="431"/><anchor id="Pg431"/>clamour, his hand went up + again. Through a lull in the tumult pealed a trumpet. <hi rend="italic">Then the + Spartans marched.</hi> + </p> + <p> Slowly their lines of bristling spear-points and nodding crests moved on like the + sea-waves. Shrill above the booming Tartar drums, the blaring Persian war-horns pierced + the screams of their pipers. And the Barbarians heard that which had never met their + ears before,—the chanting of their foes as the long line crept nearer. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!—la—la—la—la! Ah!—la—la—la—la!</q> deep, prolonged, bellowed in chorus + from every bronze visor which peered above the serried shields. </p> + <p> + <q>Faster,</q> stormed the Persian captains to their slingers and bowmen, <q>beat these + madmen down.</q> The rain of arrows and sling-stones was like hail, like hail it + rattled from the shields and helms. Here, there, a form sank, the inexorable phalanx + closed and swept onward. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!—la—la—la! Ah!—la—la—la!</q> + </p> + <p> The chant never ceased. The pipers screamed more shrilly. Eight deep, unhasting, + unresting, Pausanias was bringing his heavy infantry across the two hundred paces + betwixt himself and Mardonius. His Spartan spearmen might be unlearned, doltish, but + they knew how to do one deed and that surpassingly well,—to march in line though + lightnings dashed from heaven, and to thrust home with their lances. And not a pitiful + three hundred, but ten thousand bold and strong stood against the Barbarian that + morning. Mardonius was facing the finest infantry in the world, and the avenging of + Leonidas was nigh. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah!—la—la—la! Ah!—la—la—la!</q> + </p> + <p> Flesh and blood in the Persian host could not wait the death grip longer. <q>Let us + charge, or let us flee,</q> many a stout officer cried to his chief, and he sitting + stern-eyed on the white horse gave to a Tartar troop its word, <q>Go!</q> + </p> + <pb n="432"/> + <anchor id="Pg432"/> + <p> Then like a mountain stream the wild Tartars charged. The clods flew high under the + hoofs. The yell of the riders, the shock of spears on shields, the cry of dying men and + dying beasts, the stamping, the dust-cloud, took but a moment. The chant of the Spartans + ceased—an instant. An instant the long phalanx halted, from end to end bent and swayed. + Then the dust-cloud passed, the chanting renewed. Half of the Tartars were spurring + back, with shivered lances, bleeding steeds. The rest,—but the phalanx shook now here, + now there, as the impenetrable infantry strode over red forms that had been men and + horses. And still the Spartans marched, still the pipes and the war-chant. </p> + <p> Then for the first time fear entered the heart of Mardonius, son of Gobryas, and he + called to the thousand picked horsemen, who rode beside him,—not Tartars these, but + Persians and Medes of lordly stock, men who had gone forth conquering and to conquer. </p> + <p> + <q>Now as your fathers followed Cyrus the Invincible and Darius the Dauntless, follow + you me. Since for the honour of Eran and the king I ride this day.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>We ride. For Eran and the king!</q> shouted the thousand. All the host joined. + Mardonius led straight against the Spartan right wing where Pausanias’s life-guard + marched. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Old soldiers of Lacedæmon fighting their battles in the after days, when a warrior of + Platæa was as a god to each youth in Hellas, would tell how the Persian cavalrymen rode + their phalanx down. </p> + <p> + <q>And say never,</q> they always added, <q>the Barbarians know not how to fight and how + to die. Fools say it, not we of Platæa. For our first line seemed broken in a + twinkling. The <anchor id="corr432"/><corr sic="Pinatate">Pitanate</corr> <hi rend="italic">mora</hi> + was cut to pieces; Athena Pro<pb n="433"/><anchor id="Pg433"/>machus and Ares the City-Waster alone turned back that + charge when Mardonius led the way.</q> + </p> + <p> But turned it was. And the thousand horse, no thousand now, drifted to the cover of + their shield wall, raging, undaunted, yet beaten back. </p> + <p> Then at last the phalanx locked with the Persian footmen and their rampart of wicker + shields. At short spear length men grinned in each other’s faces, while their veins were + turned to fire. Many a soldier—Spartan, Aryan—had seen his twenty fights, but never a + fight like this. And the Persians—those that knew Greek—heard words flung through + their foemen’s helmets that made each Hellene fight as ten. </p> + <p> + <q>Remember Leonidas! Remember Thermopylæ!</q> + </p> + <p> Orders there were none; the trumpets were drowned in the tumult. Each man fought as he + stood, knowing only he must slay the man before him, while slowly, as though by a cord + tighter and ever tighter drawn, the Persian shield wall was bending back before the + unrelenting thrusting of the Spartans. Then as a cord snaps so broke the barrier. One + instant down and the Hellenes were sweeping the light-armed Asiatic footmen before them, + as the scythe sweeps down the standing grain. So with the Persian infantry, for their + scanty armour and short spears were at terrible disadvantage, but the strength of the + Barbarian was not spent. Many times Mardonius led the cavalry in headlong charge, each + repulse the prelude to a fiercer shock. </p> + <p> + <q>For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!</q> + </p> + <p> The call of the Prince was a call that turned his wild horsemen into demons, but + demons who strove with gods. The phalanx was shaken, halted even, broken never; and foot + by foot, fathom by fathom, it brushed the Barbarian horde back across the blood-bathed + plain,—and to Mardonius’s shout, a more terrible always answered:— </p> + <pb n="434"/> + <anchor id="Pg434"/> + <p> + <q>Remember Leonidas! Remember Thermopylæ!</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince seemed to bear a charmed life as he fought. He was in the thickest fray. He + sent the white Nisæan against the Laconian spears and beat down a dozen lance-points + with his sword. If one man’s valour could have turned the tide, his would have wrought + the miracle. And always behind, almost in reach of the Grecian sling-stones, rode that + other,—the page in the silvered mail,—nor did any harm come to this rider. But after + the fight had raged so long that men sank unwounded,—gasping, stricken by the heat and + press,—the Prince drew back a little from the fray to a rising in the plain, where + close by a rural temple of Demeter he could watch the drifting fight, and he saw the + Aryans yielding ground finger by finger, yet yielding, and the phalanx impregnable as + ever. Then he sent an aide with an urgent message. </p> + <p> + <q>To Artabazus and the reserve. Bid him take from the camp all the guards, every man, + every eunuch that can lift a spear, and come with speed, or the day is lost.</q> + </p> + <p> The adjutant’s spurs grew red as he pricked away, while Mardonius wheeled the Nisæan + and plunged back into the thickest fight. </p> + <p> + <q>For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!</q> + </p> + <p> His battle-call pealed even above the hellish din. The Persian nobles who had never + ridden to aught save victory turned again. Their last charge was their fiercest. They + bent the phalanx back like an inverted bow. Their footmen, reckless of self, plunged on + the Greeks and snapped off the spear-points with their naked hands. Mardonius was never + prouder of his host than in that hour. Proud—but the charge was vain. As the tide swept + back, as the files of the Spartans locked once more, he knew his men had done their + uttermost. They had fought since dawn. Their shield wall was broken. <pb n="435"/><anchor id="Pg435"/>Their quivers were empty. Was not Mazda turning against them? + Had not enough been dared for that king who lounged at ease in Sardis? </p> + <p> + <q>For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!</q> + </p> + <p> Mardonius’s shout had no answer. Here, there, he saw horsemen and footmen, now singly, + now in small companies, drifting backward across the plain to the last refuge of the + defeated, the stockaded camp by the Asopus. The Prince called on his cavalry, so few + about him now. </p> + <p> + <q>Shall we die as scared dogs? Remember the Aryan glory. Another charge!</q> + </p> + <p> His bravest seemed never to hear him. The onward thrust of the phalanx quickened. It + was gaining ground swiftly at last. Then the Spartans were dashing forward like men + possessed. </p> + <p> + <q>The Athenians have vanquished the Thebans. They come to join us. On, men of + Lacedæmon, ours alone must be this victory!</q> + </p> + <p> The shout of Pausanias was echoed by his captains. To the left and not far off charged + a second phalanx,—five thousand nodding crests and gleaming points,—Aristeides + bringing his whole array to his allies’ succour. But his help was not needed. The sight + of his coming dashed out the last courage of the Barbarians. Before the redoubled shock + of the Spartans the Asiatics crumbled like sand. Even whilst these broke once more, the + adjutant drew rein beside Mardonius. </p> + <p> + <q>Lord, Artabazus is coward or traitor. Believing the battle lost, he has fled. There + is no help to bring.</q> + </p> + <p> The Prince bowed his head an instant, while the flight surged round him. The Nisæan + was covered with blood, but his rider spurred him across the path of a squadron of + flying Medians. </p> + <pb n="436"/> + <anchor id="Pg436"/> + <p> + <q>Turn! Are you grown women!</q> Mardonius smote the nearest with his sword. <q>If we + cannot as Aryans conquer, let us at least as Aryans die!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai! ai!</hi> Mithra deserts us. Artabazus is fled. Save who + can!</q> + </p> + <p> They swept past him. He flung himself before a band of Tartars. He had better pleaded + with the north wind to stay its course. Horse, foot, Babylonians, Ethiopians, Persians, + Medes, were huddled in fleeing rout. <q>To the camp,</q> their cry, but Mardonius, + looking on the onrushing phalanxes knew there was no refuge there.... </p> + <p> And now sing it, O mountains and rivers of Hellas. Sing it, Asopus, to Spartan + Eurotas, and you to hill-girt Alphæus. And let the maidens, white-robed and + poppy-crowned, sweep in thanksgiving up to the welcoming temples,—honouring Zeus of the + Thunders, Poseidon the Earth-Shaker, Athena the Mighty in War. The Barbarian is + vanquished. The ordeal is ended. Thermopylæ was not in vain, nor Salamis. Hellas is + saved, and with her saved the world. </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> Again on the knoll by the temple, apart from the rushing fugitives, Mardonius reined. + His companion was once more beside him. He leaned that she might hear him through the + tumult. </p> + <p> + <q>The battle is lost. The camp is defenceless. What shall we do?</q> + </p> + <p> Artazostra flung back the gold-laced cap and let the sun play over her face and hair. </p> + <p> + <q>We are Aryans,</q> was all her answer. </p> + <p> He understood, but even whilst he was reaching out to catch her bridle that their + horses might run together, he saw her lithe form bend. The arrow from a Laconian helot + had smitten through the silvered mail. He saw the red <pb n="437"/><anchor id="Pg437"/>spring out over her breast. With a quick grasp he swung her before him on the white + horse. She smiled up in his face, never lovelier. </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon was right,</q> she said,—their lips were very close,—<q>Zeus and Athena are + greater than Mazda and Mithra. The future belongs to Hellas. But we have naught for + shame. We have fought as Aryans, as the children of conquerors and kings. We shall be + glad together in Garonmana the Blessed, and what is left to dread?</q> + </p> + <p> A quiver passed through her. The Spartan spear-line was close. Mardonius looked once + across the field. His men were fleeing like sheep. And so it passed,—the dream of a + satrapy of Hellas, of wider conquests, of an empire of the world. He kissed the face of + Artazostra and pressed her still form against his breast. </p> + <p> + <q>For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!</q> he shouted, and threw away his sword. Then he + turned the head of his wounded steed and rode on the Spartan lances. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="40" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="438"/> + <anchor id="Pg438"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XL</head> + <head type="sub"> THE SONG OF THE FURIES </head> + <p> Themistocles had started from Oropus with Simonides, a small guard of mariners, and a + fettered prisoner, as soon as the <name type="ship">Nausicaä’s</name> people were a little + rested. Half the night they themselves were plodding on wearily. At Tanagra the + following afternoon a runner with a palm branch met them. </p> + <p> + <q>Mardonius is slain. Artabazus with the rear-guard has fled northward. The Athenians + aided by the Spartans stormed the camp. Glory to Athena, who gives us victory!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>And the traitors?</q> Themistocles showed surprisingly little joy. </p> + <p> + <q>Lycon’s body was found drifting in the Asopus. Democrates lies fettered by + Aristeides’s tents.</q> + </p> + <p> Then the other Athenians broke forth into pæans, but Themistocles bowed his head and + was still, though the messenger told how Pausanias and his allies had taken countless + treasure, and now were making ready to attack disloyal Thebes. So the admiral and his + escort went at leisure across Bœotia, till they reached the Hellenic host still camped + near the battle-field. There Themistocles was long in conference with Aristeides and + Pausanias. After midnight he left Aristeides’s tent. </p> + <p> + <q>Where is the prisoner?</q> he asked of the sentinel before the headquarters. </p> + <p> + <q>Your Excellency means the traitor?</q> + </p> + <pb n="439"/> + <anchor id="Pg439"/> + <p> + <q>I do.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I will guide you.</q> The soldier took a torch and led the way. The two went down + dark avenues of tents, and halted at one where five hoplites stood guard with their + spears ready, five more slept before the entrance. </p> + <p> + <q>We watch him closely, <hi rend="italic">kyrie</hi>,</q> explained the decarch, + saluting. <q>Naturally we fear suicide as well as escape. Two more are within the + tent.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Withdraw them. Do you all stand at distance. For what happens I will be + responsible.</q> + </p> + <p> The two guards inside emerged yawning. Themistocles took the torch and entered the + squalid hair-cloth pavilion. The sentries noticed he had a casket under his cloak. </p> + <p> + <q>The prisoner sleeps,</q> said a hoplite, <q>in spite of his fetters.</q> + </p> + <p> Themistocles set down the casket and carefully drew the tent-flap. With silent tread + he approached the slumberer. The face was upturned; white it was, but it showed the same + winsome features that had won the clappings a hundred times in the Pnyx. The sleep + seemed heavy, dreamless. </p> + <p> Themistocles’s own lips tightened as he stood in contemplation, then he bent to touch + the other’s shoulder. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates,</q>—no answer. <q>Democrates,</q>—still silence. <q>Democrates,</q>—a + stirring, a clanking of metal. The eyes opened,—for one instant a smile. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ei</hi>, Themistocles, it is you?</q> to be succeeded by a flash of + unspeakable horror. <q>O Zeus, the gyves! That I should come to this!</q> + </p> + <p> The prisoner rose to a sitting posture upon his truss of straw. His fettered hands + seized his head. </p> + <p> + <q>Peace,</q> ordered the admiral, gently. <q>Do not rave. I have sent the sentries + away. No one will hear us.</q> + </p> + <pb n="440"/> + <anchor id="Pg440"/> + <p> Democrates grew calmer. <q>You are merciful. You do not know how I was tempted. You + will save me.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I will do all I can.</q> Themistocles’s voice was solemn as an æolian harp, but the + prisoner caught at everything eagerly. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, you can do so much. Pausanias fought the battle, but they call you the true + saviour of Hellas. They will do anything you say.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am glad.</q> Themistocles’s face was impenetrable as the sphinx’s. Democrates + seized the admiral’s red chlamys with his fettered hands. </p> + <p> + <q>You will save me! I will fly to Sicily, Carthage, the Tin Isles, as you wish. Have + you forgotten our old-time friendship?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I loved you,</q> spoke the admiral, tremulously. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, recall that love to-night!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I do.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>O piteous Zeus, why then is your face so awful? If you will aid me to escape—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I will aid you.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Blessings, blessings, but quick! I fear to be stoned to death by the soldiers in the + morning. They threaten to crucify—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>They shall not.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Blessings, blessings,—can I escape to-night?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Yes,</q> but Themistocles’s tone made the prisoner’s blood run chill. He cowered + helplessly. The admiral stood, his own fine face covered with a mingling of pity, + contempt, pain. </p> + <p> + <q>Democrates, hearken,</q>—his voice was hard as flint. <q>We have seized your camp + chest, found the key to your ciphers, and know all your correspondence with Lycon. We + have discovered your fearful power of forgery. Hermes the Trickster gave it you for + your own destruction. We have <pb n="441"/><anchor id="Pg441"/>brought Hiram hither + from the ship. This night he has ridden the <q>Little Horse.</q><note place="foot">The + rack.</note> He has howled out everything. We have seized Bias and heard his story. + There is nothing to conceal. From the beginning of your peculation of the public + money, till the moment when, the prisoners say, you were in Mardonius’s camp, all is + known to us. You need not confess. There is nothing worth confessing.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I am glad,</q>—great beads were on the prisoner’s brow,—<q>but you do not realize + the temptation. Have you never yourself been betwixt Scylla and Charybdis? Have I not + vowed every false step should be the last? I fought against Lycon. I fought against + Mardonius. They were too strong. Athena knoweth I did not crave the tyranny of Athens! + It was not that which drove me to betray Hellas.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I believe you. But why did you not trust me at the first?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>I hardly understand.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>When first your need of money drove you to crime, why did you not come to me? You + knew I loved you. You knew I looked on you as my political son and heir in the great + work of making Athens the light of Hellas. I would have given you the gold,—yes, + fifty talents.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ai, ai</hi>, if I had only dared! I thought of it. I was + afraid.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Right.</q> Themistocles’s lip was curling. <q>You are more coward than knave or + traitor. Phobos, Black Fear, has been your leading god, not Hermes. And now—</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But you have promised I shall escape.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You shall.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>To-night? What is that you have?</q> Themistocles was opening the casket. </p> + <p> + <q>The papers seized in your chest. They implicate many <pb n="442"/><anchor id="Pg442"/>noble Hellenes in Corinth, Sicyon, Sparta. Behold—</q> Themistocles held one + papyrus after another in the torch-flame,—<q>here is crumbling to ashes the evidence + that would destroy them all as Medizers. Mardonius is dead. Let the war die with him. + Hellas is safe.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Blessings, blessings! Help me to escape. You have a sword. Pry off these gyves. How + easy for you to let me fly!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Wait!</q> The admiral’s peremptory voice silenced the prisoner. Themistocles finished + his task. Suddenly, however, Democrates howled with animal fear. </p> + <p> + <q>What are you taking now—a goblet?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Wait.</q> Themistocles was indeed holding a silver cup and flask. <q>Have I not said + you should escape this captivity—to-night?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Be quick, then, the night wanes fast.</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral strode over beside the creature who plucked at his hem. </p> + <p> + <q>Give ear again, Democrates. Your crimes against Athens and Hellas were wrought under + sore temptation. The money you stole from the public chest, if not returned already, I + will myself make good. So much is forgiven.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You are a true friend, Themistocles.</q> The prisoner’s voice was husky, but the + admiral’s eyes flashed like flint-stones struck by the steel. </p> + <p> + <q>Friend!</q> he echoed. <q>Yes, by Zeus Orcios, guardian of oaths and friendship, you + had a friend. Where is he now?</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates lay on the turf floor of the tent, not even groaning. </p> + <p> + <q>You had a friend,</q>—the admiral’s intensity was awful. <q>You blasted his good + name, you sought his life, you sought his wife, you broke every bond, human or divine, + to destroy him. At last, to silence conscience’ sting, you thought you <pb n="443"/><anchor id="Pg443"/>did a deed of mercy in sending him in captivity to a death in + life. Fool! Nemesis is not mocked. Glaucon has lain at death’s door. He has saved + Hellas, but at a price. The surgeons say he will live, but that his foot is crippled. + Glaucon can never run again. You have brought him misery. You have brought anguish to + Hermione, the noblest woman in Hellas, whom you—ah! mockery—professed to hold in + love! You have done worse than murder. Yet I have promised you shall escape this + night. Rise up.</q> + </p> + <p> Democrates staggered to his feet clumsily, only half knowing what he did. Themistocles + was extending the silver cup. <q>Escape. Drink!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>What is this cup?</q> The prisoner had turned gray. </p> + <p> + <q>Hemlock, coward! Did you not bid Glaucon to take his life that night in Colonus? The + death you proffered him in his innocency I proffer you now in your guilt. Drink!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>You have called me friend. You have said you loved me. I dare not die. A little time! + Pity! Mercy! What god can I invoke?</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>None. Cerberus himself would not hearken to such as you. Drink.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Pity, by our old-time friendship!</q> + </p> + <p> The admiral’s tall form straightened. </p> + <p> + <q>Themistocles the Friend is dead; Themistocles the Just is here,—drink.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>But you promised escape?</q> The prisoner’s whisper was just audible. </p> + <p> + <q>Ay, truly, from the court-martial before the roaring camp in the morning, the + unmasking of all your accomplices, the deeper shame of every one-time friend, the + blazoning of your infamy in public evidence through Hellas, the soldiers howling for + your blood, the stoning, perchance the plucking <pb n="444"/><anchor id="Pg444"/>in + pieces. By the gods Olympian, by the gods Infernal, do your past lovers one last + service—drink!</q> + </p> + <p> That was not all Themistocles said, that was all Democrates heard. In his ears + sounded, even once again, the song of the Furies,—never so clearly as now. </p> + <lg> + <l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post: none">With scourge and with ban</q></l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">We prostrate the man</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Who with smooth-woven wile</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">And a fair-facèd smile</l> + <l>Hath planted a snare for his friend!</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though fleet, we shall find him,</l> + <l rend="margin-left: 2">Though strong, we shall bind him,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">Who planted a snare for his friend!</q></l> + </lg> + <p> Nemesis—Nemesis, the implacable goddess, had come for her own at last. </p> + <p> Democrates took the cup. </p> + </div> + <div type="chapter" n="41" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="445"/> + <anchor id="Pg445"/> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>CHAPTER XLI</head> + <head type="sub"> THE BRIGHTNESS OF HELIOS </head> + <p> The day that disloyal Thebes surrendered came the tidings of the crowning of the + Hellenes’ victories. At Mycale by Samos the Greek fleets had disembarked their crews and + defeated the Persians almost at the doors of the Great King in Sardis. Artabazus had + escaped through Thrace to Asia in caitiff flight. The war—at least the perilous part + thereof—was at end. There might be more battles with the Barbarian, but no second + Salamis or Platæa. </p> + <p> The Spartans had found the body of Mardonius pierced with five lances—all in front. + Pausanias had honoured the brave dead,—the Persian had been carried from the + battle-ground on a shield, and covered by the red cloak of a Laconian general. But the + body mysteriously disappeared. Its fate was never known. Perhaps the curious would have + gladly heard what Glaucon on his sick-bed told Themistocles, and what Sicinnus did + afterward. Certain it is that the shrewd Asiatic later displayed a costly ring which the + satrap <anchor id="corr445"/><corr sic="Zariaspes">Zariaspes,</corr> Mardonius’s cousin, sent him <q>for a + great service to the house of <corr sic="Gobyras">Gobryas</corr>.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> On the same day that Thebes capitulated the household of Hermippus left Trœzene to + return to Athens. When they had told Hermione all that had befallen,—the great good, + <pb n="446"/><anchor id="Pg446"/>the little ill,—she had not fainted, though Cleopis + had been sure thereof. The colour had risen to her cheeks, the love-light to her eyes. + She went to the cradle where Phœnix cooed and tossed his baby feet. </p> + <p> + <q>Little one, little one,</q> she said, while he beamed up at her, <q>you have not to + avenge your father now. You have a better, greater task, to be as fair in body and + still more in mind as he.</q> + </p> + <p> Then came the rush of tears, the sobbing, the laughter, and Lysistra and Cleopis, who + feared the shock of too much joy, were glad. </p> + <p> The <name type="ship">Nausicaä</name> bore them to Peiræus. The harbour towns were in + black ruins, for Mardonius had wasted everything before retiring to Bœotia for his last + battle. In Athens, as they entered it, the houses were roofless, the streets scattered + with rubbish. But Hermione did not think of these things. The Agora at last,—the + porticos were only shattered, fire-scarred pillars,—and everywhere were tents and + booths and bustle,—the brisk Athenians wasting no time in lamentation, but busy + rebuilding and making good the loss. Above Hermione’s head rose a few blackened + columns,—all that was left of the holy house of Athena,—but the crystalline air and + the red Rock of the Acropolis no Persian had been able to take away. </p> + <p> And even as Hermione crossed the Agora she heard a shouting, a word running from lip + to lip as a wave leaps over the sea. </p> + <p> In the centre of the buzzing mart she stopped. All the blood sprang to her face, then + left it. She passed her fingers over her hair, and waited with twitching, upturned face. + Through the hucksters’ booths, amid the clamouring buyers and sellers, went a runner, + striking left and right with his staff, for the people were packing close, and he had + much ado to <pb n="447"/><anchor id="Pg447"/>clear the way. Horsemen next, prancing + chargers, the prizes from the Barbarian, and after them a litter. Noble youths bore it, + sons of the Eupatrid houses of Athens. At sight of the litter the buzz of the Agora + became a roar. </p> + <p> + <q>The beautiful! The fortunate! The deliverer! <hi rend="italic">Io! Io, pæan!</hi></q> + </p> + <p> Hermione stood; only her eyes followed the litter. Its curtains were flung back; she + saw some one within, lying on purple cushions. She saw the features, beautiful as + Pentelic marble and as pale. She cared not for the people. She cared not that Phœnix, + frighted by the shouting, had begun to wail. The statue in the litter moved, rose on one + elbow. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, dearest and best,</q>—his voice had the old-time ring, his head the old-time + poise,—<q>you need not fear to call me husband now!</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Glaucon,</q> she cried. <q>I am not fit to be your wife. I am not fit to kiss your + feet.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> They set the litter down. Even little Simonides, though a king among the curious, + found the Acropolis peculiarly worthy of his study. Enough that Hermione’s hands were + pressing her husband, and these two cared not whether a thousand watched or only Helios + on high. Penelope was greeting the returning Odysseus:— </p> + <lg> + <l><q rend="post: none">Welcome even as to shipmen</q></l> + <l>On the swelling, raging sea;</l> + <l>When Poseidon flings the whirlwind,</l> + <l>When a thousand blasts roam free,</l> + <l>Then at last the land appeareth;—</l> + <l>E’en so welcome in her sight</l> + <l>Was her lord, her arms long clasped him,</l> + <l><q rend="pre: none">And her eyes shone pure and bright.</q></l> + </lg> + <pb n="448"/> + <anchor id="Pg448"/> + <p> After a long time Glaucon commanded, <q>Bring me our child,</q> and Cleopis gladly + obeyed. Phœnix ceased weeping and thrust his red fists in his father’s face. </p> + <p> + <q><hi rend="italic">Ei</hi>, pretty snail,</q> said Glaucon, pressing him fast by one + hand, whilst he held his mother by the other, <q>if I say you are a merry wight, the + nurse will not marvel any more.</q> + </p> + <p> But Hermione had already heard from Niobe of the adventure in the market-place at + Trœzene. </p> + <p> The young men were just taking up the litter, when the Agora again broke into cheers. + Themistocles, saviour of Hellas, had crossed to Glaucon. The admiral—never more + worshipped than now, when every plan he wove seemed perfect as a god’s—took Glaucon and + Hermione, one by each hand. </p> + <p> + <q>Ah, <hi rend="italic">philotatoi</hi>,</q> he said, <q>to all of us is given by the + sisters above so much bliss and so much sorrow. Some drink the bitter first, some the + sweet. And you have drained the bitter to the lees. Therefore look up at the Sun-King + boldly. He will not darken for you again.</q> + </p> + <p> + <q>Where now?</q> asked Hermione, in all things looking to her husband. </p> + <p> + <q>To the Acropolis,</q> ordered Glaucon. <q>If the temple is desolate, the Rock is + still holy. Let us give thanks to Athena.</q> + </p> + <p> He even would have left the litter, had not Themistocles firmly forbidden. In time the + Alcmæonid’s strength would return, though never the speed that had left the stadia + behind whilst he raced to save Hellas. </p> + <p> They mounted the Rock. From above, in the old-time brightness, the noonday light, the + sunlight of Athens, sprang down to them. Hermione, looking on Glaucon’s face, saw him + gaze eagerly upon her, his child, the sacred Rock, and the glory from Helios. Then his + face wore a strange smile <pb n="449"/><anchor id="Pg449"/>she could not understand. She + did not know that he was saying in his heart:— </p> + <p> + <q>And I thought for the rose vales of Bactria to forfeit—this!</q> + </p> + <p> They were on the summit. The litter was set down on the projecting spur by the + southwest corner. The area of the Acropolis was desolation, ashes, drums of overturned + pillars, a few lone and scarred columns. The works of man were in ruin, but the works of + the god, of yesterday, to-day, and forever were yet the same. They turned their backs on + the ruin. Westward they looked—across land and sea, beautiful always, most beautiful + now, for had they not been redeemed with blood and tears? The Barbarian was vanquished; + the impossible accomplished. Hellas and Athens were their own, with none to take away. </p> + <p> They saw the blue bay of Phaleron. They saw the craggy height of Munychia, Salamis + with its strait of the victory, farther yet the brown dome of Acro-Corinthus and the + wide breast of the clear Saronian sea. To the left was Hymettus the Shaggy, to right the + long crest of Daphni, behind them rose Pentelicus, home of the marble that should take + the shape of the gods. With one voice they fell to praising Athens and Hellas, wisely or + foolishly, according to their wit. Only Hermione and Glaucon kept silence, hand within + hand, and speaking fast,—not with their lips,—but with their eyes. </p> + <p> Then at the end Themistocles spoke, and as always spoke the best. </p> + <p> + <q>We have flung back the Barbarian. We have set our might against the God-King and have + conquered. Athens lies in ruins. We shall rebuild her. We shall make her more truly + than before the <q>Beautiful,</q> the <q>Violet-Crowned City,</q> worthy of the + guardian Athena. The conquering <pb n="450"/><anchor id="Pg450"/>of the Persian was + hard. The making of Athens immortal by the beauty of our lives, and words, and deeds + is harder. Yet in this also we shall conquer. Yea, verily, for the day shall come that + wherever the eye is charmed by the beautiful, the heart is thrilled by the noble, or + the soul yearns after the perfect,—there in the spirit shall stand Athens.</q> + </p> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 7"/> + + <p> After they had prayed to the goddess, they went down from the Rock and its vision of + beauty. Below a mule car met them. They set Glaucon and Hermione with the babe therein, + and these three were driven over the Sacred Way toward the purple-bosomed hills, through + the olive groves and the pine trees, across the slope of Daphni, to rest and peace in + Eleusis-by-the-Sea. </p> + </div> + </div> + </body> + <back> + <div><div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <pb n="451"/> + <anchor id="Pg451"/> + <head><hi rend="font-size: large">STANDARD MACMILLAN FICTION</hi> </head> + + <milestone unit="tb" rend="rule: 20%"/> + + <p> + <hi rend="italic">By WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> A Friend of <anchor id="corr451"/><corr sic="Caesar">Cæsar</corr> </p> + <p> + <hi rend="smallcaps">A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>As a story ... there can be no question of its success.... While the beautiful love of + Cornelia and Drusus lies at the sound sweet heart of the story, to say so is to give a + most meagre idea of the large sustained interest of the whole.... There are many + incidents so vivid, so brilliant, that they fix themselves in the memory.</q>—<hi rend="italic">The Bookman.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> + <hi rend="italic">Cloth, 12mo, $1.50</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> + <q>God Wills It</q> + </p> + <p> + <hi rend="smallcaps">A Tale of the First Crusade</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Not since Sir Walter Scott cast his spell over us with <q>Ivanhoe,</q> + <q>Count Robert of Paris,</q> and <q>Quentin Durward</q> have we been so completely + captivated by a story as by <q>God Wills It,</q> by William Stearns Davis. It grips the + attention of the reader in the first chapter and holds it till the last.... It is a + story of strenuous life, the spirit of which might well be applied in some of our modern + Crusades. While true to life in its local coloring, it is sweet and pure, and leaves no + after-taste of bitterness. The author’s first book, <q>A Friend of Cæsar,</q> revealed + his power, and <q>God Wills It</q> confirms and deepens the impression made.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Christian Endeavor World.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> + <hi rend="italic">With Illustrations by Louis Betts</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> + <hi rend="italic">Cloth, 12mo, $1.50</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Falaise of the Blessed Voice </p> + <p> + <hi rend="smallcaps">A Tale of the Youth of St. Louis, King of France</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> The story of how his enemies plotted to separate him from his fair Queen Margaret, and + even from his throne itself; of how he grew from a pale lad to a most manly king, and of + the part played in his life by the blind singer of Pontoise, the maid called <q>Falaise of + the Blessed Voice.</q> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> + <hi rend="italic">Cloth, 12mo, $1.50</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Saint of the Dragon’s Dale </p> + <p> (In the series of <q><hi rend="smallcaps">Little Novels by Favorite Authors</hi></q>) </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> + <hi rend="italic">Cloth, decorated cover, 16mo, 50 cents</hi> + </p> + </div> + <pb n="452"/> + <anchor id="Pg452"/> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head><hi rend="font-size: large">RECENT MACMILLAN NOVELS</hi> </head> + <milestone unit="tb" rend="rule: 20%"/> + <p rend="center"> + <hi rend="italic">Each, cloth, $1.50</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Long Road </p> + <p> By JOHN OXENHAM </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>... It is a thrilling and an absorbing story. Through all the tragedy of life ... there + is a rarely sweet accompaniment of tender tones, of love and heroism and intermittent, + never quite lost hope. It is a touching and beautiful story.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Buffalo Evening News.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Coniston </p> + <p> By WINSTON CHURCHILL </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Coniston has a lighter, gayer spirit, and a deeper, tenderer touch than Mr. Churchill + has ever achieved before.... It is one of the finest and truest transcripts of modern + American life thus far achieved in our fiction.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Chicago + Record-Herald.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, illustrated, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Lady Baltimore </p> + <p> By OWEN WISTER </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>That the author of <q>The Virginian</q> could deal deliciously with such a rich field + ... might be assumed. But with what charm and delicacy, fine humor and insight, the work + has been done, only a direct acquaintance with the finished volume can justly show. The + Southerner will certainly find enchanting home touches in it, and every reader will feel + the spell of the quiet old southern town and all the tender, dainty, and humorous + southern life and atmosphere that hang about it.</q>—<hi rend="italic">St. Louis Globe + Democrat.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Garden, You and I </p> + <p> By MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Few books published in this country recently have been of a kind to make an author so + proud. Hers are immensely fine and sweet.</q>—<hi rend="italic">St. Louis + Democrat.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> The new book by the author of <q>The Garden of a Commuter’s Wife</q> and <q>People of + the Whirlpool,</q> is a story of new friends as charming in their own way as <q>Barbara</q> herself. Their highly original vacation is described from more than one point + of view, each more deliciously funny than the next. </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> A Lady of Rome </p> + <p> By F. MARION CRAWFORD </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>His skill in making his portraits live before the reader’s eyes is unsurpassed; and in + the production of story-value and prolonged suspense, Mr. Crawford has no peer.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Boston Herald.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 </p> + <pb n="453"/> + <anchor id="Pg453"/> + + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> White Fang </p> + <p> By JACK LONDON </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Jack London is the apostle of strength and courage. In <q>White Fang</q> he has full + play ... in his chosen field. He has done this work so well that he makes the interest + as intense as if he were telling the story of a man.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Globe + Democrat.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Illustrated in colors, cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> When Love Speaks </p> + <p> By WILL PAYNE </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>One of the most interesting novels ever written on the conflict between law and honesty + on one side and the alliance of low politics and high finance on the other. Stirring + love story woven in with the fight against an unscrupulous whiskey trust. A fine, clean + American story, of interest alike to men and women.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Chicago + Record-Herald.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> If Youth But Knew </p> + <p> By AGNES and EGERTON CASTLE </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>They should be the most delightful of comrades, for their writing is so apt, so + responsive, so saturated with the promptings and the glamour of spring. It is because <q>If Youth But Knew</q> has all these adorable qualities that it is so + fascinating.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Cleveland Leader.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Disenchanted </p> + <p> By PIERRE LOTI </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Our romantic son of Hercules wields in defence of Liberty a slender, aromatic + sorcerer’s wand. And his magic has lost nothing of its might. We dare not begin quoting + a book of which every page is a picture.</q>—<hi rend="italic">The London Times.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Sin of George Warrener </p> + <p> By Miss VAN VORST </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>For acute comprehension of human nature both masculine and feminine, and a keen + apprehension of a phase of our social conditions, the book is a piece of rare + artistry.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Phila. Evening Tel.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Her Majesty’s Rebels </p> + <p> By SIDNEY R. LYSAGHT </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>A story of Irish people that is neither prejudiced nor patronizing.... A rare and + charming novel ... racy and convincing.</q>—<hi rend="italic">World.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 </p> + <pb n="454"/> + <anchor id="Pg454"/> + + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> Listener’s Lure </p> + <p> By E. V. LUCAS </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>A Kensington Comedy</q> which proves that the delightful fellow-wanderer in Holland and + in London has a keen sense of humor and a gift for semi-satirical portrait sketching. </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Amulet </p> + <p> By CHARLES E. CRADDOCK </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>... A little old-fashioned, perhaps, according to modern sensational standards, but + written with force and feeling, full of local color and character, wholesome and + interesting from cover to cover, and so far as one can judge, a truthful picture of a + most picturesque phase of pioneer history that has not been exploited to the point of + tiresomeness.</q>—<hi rend="italic">The New York Times.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Romance of John Bainbridge </p> + <p> By HENRY GEORGE, Jr. </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>Belongs to the large class of present-day novels in which a young man of high ideals + goes into politics in order to do battle with the dragons of bribery and corruption. The + particular demon in this case is a perpetual street railway franchise. The love story + betrays the apprentice hand, but the description of the fight in the aldermanic council + is a capital piece of work.</q>—<hi rend="italic">The Congregationalist.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Way of the Gods </p> + <p> By JOHN LUTHER LONG </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> As the readers of <q>Madam Butterfly</q> know, there is no one, since the death of + Lafcadio Hearn, who can make Japanese life so charming as does Mr. Long. This story of the + little samurai, hardly big enough to be a soldier, and of how the fair eta Hoshiko met his + obligations for him, is very real and appealing. </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large"> The Vine of Sibmah </p> + <p> By Dr. ANDREW MACPHAIL </p> + <p rend="font-size: small"> + <q>The book is taut with action and breathless climaxes. Its principal character, a + soldier, has for his friend a most engaging pirate. This combination alone makes + interesting reading.</q>—<hi rend="italic">Chicago Evening Post.</hi> + </p> + <p rend="text-align: right"> Cloth, $1.50 </p> + </div></div> + <div> + <pgIf output="pdf"> + <then/> + <else> + <div id="footnotes" rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head>Footnotes</head> + <divGen type="footnotes"/> + </div> + </else> + </pgIf> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <index index="pdf"/> + <head>Transcriber’s note</head> + <pgIf output="pdf"> + <then/> + <else><p>The author’s footnotes have been moved to the end of the volume.</p></else> + </pgIf> + <pgIf output="txt"> + <then><p>Blackletter has been marked with asterisks.</p></then> + <else><p>Blackletter has been rendered as bold face.</p></else> + </pgIf> + + <p>The following typographical errors were corrected:</p> + <list> + <item><ref target="corr006">page 6</ref>, <q>gridle</q> changed to <q>girdle</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr008">page 8</ref>, <q>seashore</q> changed to <q>sea-shore</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr023">page 23</ref>, <q>earthern</q> changed to <q>earthen</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr024">page 24</ref>, <q>Thacian</q> changed to <q>Thasian</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr029">page 29</ref>, <q>good humoredly</q> changed to <q>good-humouredly</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr031">page 31</ref>, <q>Mantineia</q> changed to <q>Mantinea</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr032">page 32</ref>, <q>honor</q> changed to <q>honour</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr063">page 63</ref>, <q>waterpots</q> changed to <q>water-pots</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr065">page 65</ref>, <q>humorous</q> changed to <q>humourous</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr090">page 90</ref>, <q>Nausicäa</q> changed to <q>Nausicaä</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr092">page 92</ref>, <q>pentaconters</q> changed to <q>penteconters</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr093">page 93</ref>, missing quote added before <q>We can say</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr095">page 95</ref>, <q>he</q> changed to <q>be</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr101">page 101</ref>, comma changed to period after <q>house was out</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr107">page 107</ref>, <q>fish-monger</q> changed to <q>fishmonger</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr117">page 117</ref>, added italics to <q>Ai!</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr133">page 133</ref>, <q>Baylonish</q> changed to <q>Babylonish</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr145">page 145</ref>, <q>Neverthless</q> changed to <q>Nevertheless</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr146">page 146</ref>, <q>haircloth</q> changed to <q>hair-cloth</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr157">page 157</ref>, <q>sailcloth</q> changed to <q>sail-cloth</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr173">page 173</ref>, semicolon added after <q>beautiful</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr176">page 176</ref>, single quote changed to double quote after <q>kings reign forever!</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr196">page 196</ref>, <q>intrust</q> changed to <q>entrust</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr229">page 229</ref>, <q>torchlight</q> changed to <q>torch-light</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr230">page 230</ref>, <q>goatskin</q> changed to <q>goat-skin</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr238">page 238</ref>, comma removed after <q>Themistocles</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr280">page 280</ref>, <q>Ameinas</q> changed to <q>Ameinias</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr283">page 283</ref>, <q>Ameinas’s</q> changed to <q>Ameinias’s</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr288">page 288</ref>, <q>renegadoes</q> changed to <q>renegades</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr301">page 301</ref>, <q>Phelgon's</q> changed to <q>Phlegon’s</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr324">page 324</ref>, removed italics from <q>Artemisia</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr325">page 325</ref>, <q>maelstrom</q> changed to <q>mælstrom</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr327">page 327</ref>, <q>Psytalleia</q> changed to <q>Psyttaleia</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr368">page 368</ref>, <q>fagots</q> changed to <q>faggots</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr377">page 377</ref>, <q>warships</q> changed to <q>war-ships</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr396">page 396</ref>, <q>lieutenant</q> changed to <q>lieutenants</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr404">page 404</ref>, missing period added after <q>are great gods</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr419">page 419</ref>, <q>bowstring</q> changed to <q>bow-string</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr424">page 424</ref>, single quote removed after <q>Such as what?</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr432">page 432</ref>, <q>Pinatate</q> changed to <q>Pitanate</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr445">page 445</ref>, comma added after <q>Zariaspes</q>, + <q>Gobyras</q> changed to <q>Gobryas</q></item> + <item><ref target="corr451">page 451</ref>, <q>Caesar</q> changed to <q>Cæsar</q></item> + </list> + + <p>Some variants in spelling, capitalization or hyphenation which cannot be regarded as + simple typographical errors have been retained.<!-- (<hi rend="italic">e.g.</hi> + <q>chalmys</q> and <q>chlamys</q>, + <q>Hephæstus</q> and <q>Hephæstos</q>, + <q>innocence</q> and <q>innocency</q>, + <q>melée</q> and <q><hi rend="italic">mêlée</hi></q>, + <q>Orcios</q> and <q>Orchios</q>, + <q>Orcus</q> and <q>Orchus</q> + <q>Phaleron</q> and <q>Phalerum</q> + ).--></p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <divGen type="pgfooter" /> + </div> + </back> + </text> +</TEI.2> |