A Victor of Salamis Part 9

"And one you are worthy to accomplish. Are we not co-workers for Athens and for h.e.l.las?"

Themistocles's hawklike eyes were unescapable. The younger Athenian thought they were reading his soul. He held out his hand....

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, "Give me joy, dear comrade, joy! Hermippus has promised me the fairest maiden in Athens." Some evil G.o.d 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.

"Friend, if you are a fool, you do a wise thing in keeping still; if a wise man, a very foolish thing."

"Wine, boy," ordered Democrates; "and less water in it. I feel wretchedly stupid to-day."

He spent the rest of the feast drinking deeply, and with much forced laughter. The dinner ended toward evening. The whole company escorted the victor toward Athens. At Daphni, the pa.s.s 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 drachmae, due by law to Isthmian victors, was presented. A street was named for Glaucon in the new port-town of Peiraeus. 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.

CHAPTER VI

ATHENS

In Athens! Shall one mount the Acropolis or enter the market place?

Wors.h.i.+p 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.

"Full market time." 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. "Buy my oil!" bawled the huckster from his wicker booth beside the line of Hermes-busts in the midst of the square. "Buy my charcoal!" roared back a companion, whilst past both was haled a grinning negro with a crier who bade every gentleman to "mark his chance" for a fas.h.i.+onable 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 ploughing through the mult.i.tude with marble for some new building. Every instant the noise grew. Pandora's box had opened, and every clamour had flitted out.

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 amphorae for wine, flat beakers, water-pots, 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 c.o.c.kpit and gaming-house keeper, Crito the fat mine-contractor, and finally Polus, gray and pursy, who "devoted his talents to the public weal," in other words was a perpetual juryman and likewise busybody.

The latest rumour about Xerxes having been duly chewed, conversation began to lag.

"An idle day for you, my Polus," threw out Clearchus.

"Idle indeed! No jury sits to-day in the King Archon's Porch or the 'Red Court'; I can't vote to condemn that Heraclius who's exported wheat contrary to the law."

"Condemn?" cried Agis; "wasn't the evidence very weak?"

"Ay," snorted Polus, "very weak, and the wretch pleaded piteously, setting his wife and four little ones weeping on the stand. But we are resolved.

'You are boiling a stone-your plea's no profit,' thought we. Our hearts vote 'guilty,' if our heads say 'innocent.' 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!"

"Athena keep us, then, from litigation," murmured Clearchus; while Crito opened his fat lips to ask, "And what adjourns the courts?"

"A meeting of the a.s.sembly, to be sure. The emba.s.sy's come back from Delphi with the oracle we sought about the prospects of the war."

"Then Themistocles will speak," observed the potter; "a very important meeting."

"Very important," choked the juror, fis.h.i.+ng a long piece of garlic from his wallet and cramming it into his mouth with both hands. "What a n.o.ble statesman Themistocles is! Only young Democrates will ever be like him."

"Democrates?" squeaked out Crito.

"Why, yes. Almost as eloquent as Themistocles. What zeal for democracy!

What courage against Persia! A Nestor, I say, in wisdom-"

Agis gave a whistle.

"A Nestor, perhaps. Yet if you knew, as I do, how some of his nights pa.s.s,-dice, Rhodian fighting-c.o.c.ks, dancing-girls, and worse things,-"

"I'll scarce believe it," grunted the juror; yet then confessed somewhat ruefully, "however, he is unfortunate in his bosom friend."

"What do you mean?" demanded the potter.

"Glaucon the Alcmaeonid, to be sure. I cried '_Io, paean!_' as loud as the others when he came back; still I weary of having a man always so fortunate."

"Even as you voted to banish Aristeides, Themistocles's rival, because you were tired of hearing him called 'the Just.' "

"There's much in that. Besides, he's an Alcmaeonid, and since their old murder of Cylon the house has been under a blood curse. He has married the daughter of Hermippus, 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."

"Hush," warned Clearchus, "there he pa.s.ses now, arm in arm with Democrates as always, and on his way to the a.s.sembly."

"The men are much alike in build," spoke Crito, slowly, "only Glaucon is infinitely handsomer."

"And infinitely less honest. I distrust your too beautiful and too lucky men," snapped Polus.

"Envious dog," commented Agis; and bitter personalities might have followed had not a bell jangled from an adjacent portico.

"Phormio, my brother-in-law, with fresh fish from Phaleron," announced Polus, drawing a coin from his wonted purse,-his cheek; "quick, friends, we must buy our dinners."

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 humourous 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 compet.i.tion 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 "Market Wardens" seemed needed to check the jostling. But as the last eel was held up, came a cry-

"Look out for the rope!"

Phormio's customers scattered. Scythian constables were 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 a.s.sembly place,-through a narrow, ill-built way, but the great area of the Pnyx opened before them like the slopes of some n.o.ble theatre.

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 "Bema," the orator's pulpit. A few chairs for the magistrates and a small altar were its sole furnis.h.i.+ngs. The mult.i.tude entered the Pnyx through two narrow entrances pierced in the ma.s.sy engirdling wall and took seats at pleasure; all were equals-the Alcmaeonid, the charcoal-seller from Acharnae. 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 Plataeans their allies.

A wrinkled seer carefully slaughtered a goose, proclaimed that its entrails gave good omen, and cast the carca.s.s on the altar. The herald a.s.sured 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.

The decree of the Council convening the a.s.sembly was read; then the herald's formal proclamation:-

"Who wishes to speak?"

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 cloaks were black. "The oracle is unfavourable! The G.o.ds deliver us to Xerxes!" The thrill of horror went around the Pnyx.

The three stood an instant in gloomy silence. Then Callias the Rich, solemn and impressive, their spokesman, told their eventful story.

"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." 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, "Get from this temple afar, and brood on the ills that await ye."