A Victor of Salamis Part 17

"What is it, _kyrie_?"

"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."

He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.

"Don't blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis," ordered the master,-and Bias's legs never went faster than on that afternoon.

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:-

"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 ident.i.ty. Leave Athens to-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 s.h.i.+p from the havens. May our paths never cross again!-_Chaire._"

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 aeschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man's ears:-

"With scourge and with ban We prostrate the man, Who with smooth-woven wile, And a fair-faced smile Hath planted a snare for his friend.

Though fleet, we shall find him; Though strong, we shall bind him, Who planted a snare for his friend."

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.

"Hermes," prayed the orator, "Hermes Dolios, G.o.d of craft and lies, thieves' G.o.d, 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,"-he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd G.o.d with too mean a gift, "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."

The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great G.o.d and 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:-

"She is Glaucon's wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?"

CHAPTER XI

THE PANATHENaeA

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 pa.s.ser with violets, narcissus, and hyacinths. For this was the morn of the final crowning day of the Panathenaea, greatest, gladdest of Athenian festivals.

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.

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 a.s.sembled 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.

"Guilty-I vote guilty," the others heard him muttering, as his head sank lower.

"Wake up, friend," ordered Clearchus; "you're not condemning any poor scoundrel now."

"_Ai!_ ah!" Polus rubbed his eyes, "I only thought I was dropping the black bean-"

"Against whom?" quoth Crito, the fat contractor.

"Whom? Why that aristocrat Glaucon, surely,-to-night-" Polus suddenly checked himself and began to roll his eyes.

"You've a dreadful grievance against him," remarked Clearchus; "the G.o.ds know why."

"The wise patriot can see many things," observed Polus, complacently, "only I repeat-wait till to-night-and then-"

"What then?" demanded all the others.

"Then you shall see," announced the juror, with an oratorical flourish of his dirty himation, "and not you only but all of Athens."

Clearchus grinned.

"Our dear Polus has a vast sense of his own importance. And who has been making you partner of the state secrets-Themistocles?"

"A man almost his peer, the n.o.ble patriot Democrates. Ask Phormio's wife, Lampaxo; ask-" Once more he broke off to lay a finger on his lips. "This will be a notable day for Athens!"

"Our good friend surely thinks so!" rejoined the potter, dryly; "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."

The statesman cantered past on a s.h.i.+ning white Thessalian. At his heels were prancing Cimon, Democrates, Glaucon, and many another youth of the n.o.ble houses of Athens. At sight of the son of Conon, Polus had wagged his head in a manner utterly perplexing to his a.s.sociates, 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.

"Agis is a strange fish to have dealings with a 'steward' of the procession to-day," wondered Crito.

"You'll be enlightened to-morrow," said Polus, exasperatingly. Then as the band of hors.e.m.e.n cantered down the broad Dromos street, "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."

"_Phui_," complained Clearchus, "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."

"She needn't 'draw up her eyebrows,' "(6) growled the juror, viciously; "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."

"Hush," ordered Clearchus, rising, "you have spoken folly enough. Those trumpets tell us we must hasten if we hope to join in the march ourselves."

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 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 Panathenaea was the crown of Athens.

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 n.o.bility 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.

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.

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, "stewards of the Panathenaea," a.s.sisting. He sent his last glance down the long files, his ivory wand signed to the musicians in the van.

"Play! march!"

Fifty pipers blew, fifty citharas tinkled. The host swept into the city.

Themistocles led. Under the ma.s.sy 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 "knights," the mounted chivalry of Athens,-three hundred of the n.o.blest youths of Attica, on beasts sleek and spirited, and in burnished armour, but about every helm a wreath. Behind the "knights" 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 _ephebi_,-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:

"The car and the robe of Athena! Hail, _Io, paean!_ hail!"