A Victor of Salamis Part 2

"Men of Athens, this way!"

His numerous countrymen came scampering from far and wide. Men s.n.a.t.c.hed 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,-"Prove me!"

"Sparta is insulted. Away with the braggart!" 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 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.

"Fools! Hold!" 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.

"Fellow-h.e.l.lenes, 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?"

The Sicyonian, who saw in a riot the ruin of his evening's trade, nodded gladly.

"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 G.o.d in the contest to-morrow."

Not a voice answered him. The crash of music from the sacrificial emba.s.sy 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.

"You are ever Glaucon the Fortunate," laughed Themistocles; "had we not chanced this way, what would not have befallen?"

"Ah, it was delightful," rejoined the athlete, his eyes still kindled; "the shock, the striving, the putting one's own strength and will against many and feeling 'I am the stronger.' "

"Delightful, no doubt" replied the statesman, "though Zeus spare me fighting one against ten! But what G.o.d possessed you to meddle in this brawl, and imperil all chances for to-morrow?"

"I was returning from practice at the palaestra. I saw the lad beset and knew he was not Dexippus's slave. I ran to help him. I thought no more about it."

"And risked everything for a sly-eyed Oriental. Where is the rascal?"

But the lad-author of the commotion-had disappeared completely.

"Behold his fair grat.i.tude to his rescuer," cried Themistocles, sourly, and then he turned to Leonidas. "Well, very n.o.ble 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?"

But the king, without a word of greeting, ran his eyes over the athlete from head to heel, then blurted out his verdict:

"Too pretty."

Glaucon blushed like a maid. Themistocles threw up his hands in deprecation.

"But were not Achilles and many another hero beautiful as brave? Does not Homer call them so many times 'G.o.dlike'?"

"Poetry doesn't win the pentathlon," 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 "_Euge!_" then extended his own hand, the fingers half closed, and ordered, "Open."

One long minute, just as Simonides and his companions approached, Athenian and Spartan stood face to face, hand locked in hand, while Glaucon's forehead grew redder, not with blus.h.i.+ng. Then blood rushed to the king's brow also. His fingers were crimson. They had been forced open.

"_Euge!_" cried the king, again; then, to Themistocles, "He will do."

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.

"I hate Lycon. Grind his bones."

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.

"Master Simonides is overkind," had ventured the athlete; "but I am sure his praise is only polite compliment."

"What misunderstanding!" ran on the poet. "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?"

"How dare I answer? If 'no,' I contradict you-very rude. If 'yes,' I praise myself-far ruder."

"Cleverly turned. The face of Paris, the strength of Achilles, the wit of Periander, all met in one body;" but seeing the athlete's confusion more profound than ever, the Cean cut short. "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 I nor any sane man in h.e.l.las has the least doubt. Are you not confident, dear Athenian?"

"I am confident in the justice of the G.o.ds, n.o.ble Simonides," said the athlete, half childishly, half in deep seriousness.

"Well you may be. The G.o.ds are usually 'just' to such as you. It's we graybeards that Tyche, 'Lady Fortune,' grows tired of helping."

"Perhaps!" Glaucon pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes with a dreamy gesture.

"Yet sometimes I almost say, 'Welcome a misfortune, if not too terrible,'

just to ward off the G.o.d'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, 'Call no man fortunate till he is dead.' "

Simonides was charmed at this frank confession on first acquaintance.

"Yes, but even one of the Seven Sages can err."

"I do not know. I only hope-"

"Hush, Glaucon," admonished Democrates. "There's no worse dinner before a contest than one of flighty thoughts. When safe in Athens-"

"In Eleusis you mean," corrected the athlete.

"Pest take you," cried Cimon; "you say Eleusis because there is Hermione.

But make this day-dreaming end ere you come to grips with Lycon."

"He will awaken," 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.

"And why should Leonidas wish Glaucon to grind the bones of the champion of Sparta?" asked Cimon, curiously.

"Quickly answered," replied Simonides, who knew half the persons of the n.o.bility in h.e.l.las; "first, Lycon is of the rival kingly house at Sparta; second, he's suspected of 'Medizing,' of favouring Persia."

"I've heard that story of 'Medizing,' " interrupted Democrates, promptly; "I can a.s.sure you it is not true."

"Enough if he's suspected," cried the uncompromising son of Miltiades; "honest h.e.l.lenes should not even be blown upon in times like this. Another reason then for hating him-"

"Peace!" ordered Glaucon, as if starting from a long revery, and with a sweep of his wonderful hands; "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!"

"Verily, the man is mad," reflected the poet; "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."

At the tent Manes, the athlete's body-servant, came running to his master, with a small box firmly bound.

"A strange dark man brought this only a moment since. It is for Master Glaucon."