A Victor of Salamis

by William Stearns Davis

  CHAPTER V

  HERMIONE OF ELEUSIS

  A cluster of white stuccoed houses with a craggy hill behind, and beforethem a blue bay girt in by the rocky isle of Salamis--that isEleusis-by-the-Sea. Eastward and westward spreads the teeming Thrasianplain, richest in Attica. Behind the plain the encircling mountain wallfades away into a purple haze. One can look southward toward Salamis; thento the left rises the rounded slope of brown Poecilon sundering Eleusisfrom its greater neighbour, Athens. Look behind: there is a glimpse of thelong violet crests of Cithaeron and Parnes, the barrier mountains againstBoeotia. Look to right: beyond the summits of Megara lifts a noble cone. Itis an old friend, Acro-Corinthus. The plain within the hills is sprinkledwith thriving farmsteads, green vineyards, darker olive groves. The stonyhill-slopes are painted red by countless poppies. One hears the tinklingof the bells of roving goats. Thus the more distant view; while at thevery foot of the hill of vision rises a temple with proud columns andpediments,--the fane of Demeter the "Earth Mother" and the seat of herMysteries, renowned through Hellas.

  The house of Hermippus the Eumolpid, first citizen of Eleusis, stood tothe east of the temple. On three sides gnarled trunks and sombre leaves ofthe sacred olives almost hid the white low walls of the ramblingbuildings. On the fourth side, facing the sea, the dusty road wound easttoward Megara. Here, by the gate, were gathered a rustic company:brown-faced village lads and lasses, toothless graybeards, cackling oldwives. Above the barred gate swung a festoon of ivy, whilst from withinthe court came the squeaking of pipes, the tuning of citharas, and shoutedorders--signs of a mighty bustling. Then even while the company grew, ahalf-stripped courier flew up the road and into the gate.

  "They come," ran the wiseacre's comment; but their buzzing ceased, asagain the gate swung back to suffer two ladies to peer forth. Ladies, inthe truth, for the twain had little in common with the ogling villagemaids, and whispers were soon busy with them.

  "Look--his wife and her mother! How would you, Praxinoe, like to marry anIsthmionices?"

  "Excellently well, but your Hermas won't so honour you."

  "_Eu!_ see, she lifts her pretty blue veil; I'm glad she's handsome. Somebeautiful men wed regular hags."

  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 Amorgosgauze: the mother's was saffron, crowned with a wreath of goldenwheat-ears; the daughter's blue with a circlet of violets. And now as theystood with arms entwined the younger brushed aside her veil. The gossipswere right. The robe and the crown hid all but the face and tress of thelustrous brown hair,--but that face! Had not King Hephaestos wrought everyline of clear Phoenician glass, then touched them with snow and rose, andshot through all the ichor of life? Perhaps there was a fitful fire in thedark eyes that awaited the husband's coming, or a slight twitching of theimpatient lips. But nothing disturbed the high-born repose of face andfigure. Hermione was indeed the worthy daughter of a noble house, andhappy the man who was faring homeward to Eleusis!

  Another messenger. Louder bustle in the court, and the voice of Hermippusarraying his musicians. Now a sharp-faced man, who hid his bald pate undera crown of lilies, joined the ladies,--Conon, father of the victor. He hadended his life-feud with Hermippus the night the message flashed fromCorinth. Then a third runner; this time in his hand a triumphant palmbranch, and his one word--"Here!" A crash of music answered from the court,while Hermippus, a stately nobleman, his fine head just sprinkled withgray, led out his unmartial army.

  Single pipes and double pipes, tinkling lyres and many-stringed citharas,not to forget herdsmen's reed flutes, cymbals, and tambours, all mademelody and noise together. An imposing procession that must have crammedthe courtyard wound out into the Corinth road.

  Here was the demarch(2) of Eleusis, a pompous worthy, who could hardlyhold his head erect, thanks to an exceeding heavy myrtle wreath. Afterhim, two by two, the snowy-robed, long-bearded priests of Demeter; behindthese the noisy corps of musicians, and then a host of young men andwomen,--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 crashof cymbals through the olive groves answered its uproar. Deep now andsonorous sounded manly voices as in some triumphal chant. Hermione, as shestood by the gate, drew closer to her mother. Inflexible Attic customseemed to hold her fast. No noblewoman might thrust herself boldly underthe public eye--save at a sacred festival--no, not when the centre of thegladness was her husband.

  "He comes!" So she cried to her mother; so cried every one. Around theturn 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 theIsthmia. The necks of the four horses were wreathed with flowers; flowershid the reins and bridles, the chariot, and even its wheels. The victorstood aloft, his scarlet cloak flung back, displaying his godlike form. Anunhealed scar marred his forehead--Lycon's handiwork; but who thought ofthat, when above the scar pressed the wreath of wild parsley? As the twoprocessions met, a cheer went up that shook the red rock of Eleusis. Thechampion answered with his frankest smile; only his eyes seemedquestioning, seeking some one who was not there.

  "Io! Glaucon!" The Eleusinian youths broke from their ranks and fell uponthe chariot. The horses were loosed in a twinkling. Fifty arms dragged thecar onward. The pipers swelled their cheeks, each trying to outblow hisfellow. Then after them sped the maidens. They ringed the chariot roundwith a maze of flowers chains. As the car moved, they accompanied it witha dance of unspeakable ease, modesty, grace. A local poet--not Simonides,not Pindar, but some humbler bard--had invoked his muse for the grandoccasion. Youths and maidens burst forth into singing.

  "Io! Io, paean! the parsley-wreathed victor hail! Io! Io, paean! sing it out on each breeze, each gale! He has triumphed, our own, our beloved, Before all the myriad's ken. He has met the swift, has proved swifter! The strong, has proved stronger again! Now glory to him, to his kinfolk, To Athens, and all Athens' men! Meet, run to meet him, The nimblest are not too fleet. Greet him, with raptures greet him, With songs and with twinkling feet. He approaches,--throw flowers before him. Throw poppy and lily and rose; Blow faster, gay pipers, faster, Till your mad music throbs and flows, For his glory and ours flies through Hellas, Wherever the Sun-King goes.

  Io! Io, paean! crown with laurel and myrtle and pine, Io, paean! haste to crown him with olive, Athena's dark vine. He is with us, he shines in his beauty; Oh, joy of his face the first sight; He has shed on us all his bright honour, Let High Zeus shed on him his light, And thou, Pallas, our gray-eyed protectress, Keep his name and his fame ever bright!"

  Matching action to the song, they threw over the victor crowns and chainsbeyond number, till the parsley wreath was hidden from sight. Near thegate of Hermippus the jubilant company halted. The demarch bawled long forsilence, won it at last, and approached the chariot. He, good man, hadbeen a long day meditating on his speech of formal congratulation andenjoyed his opportunity. Glaucon's eyes still roved and questioned, yetthe demarch rolled out his windy sentences. But there was somethingunexpected. Even as the magistrate took breath after reciting the victor'snoble ancestry, there was a cry, a parting of the crowd, and Glaucon theAlcmaeonid leaped from the chariot as never on the sands at Corinth. Theveil and the violet wreath fell from the head of Hermione when her facewent up to her husband's. The blossoms that had covered the athlete shookover her like a cloud as his face met hers. Then even the honest demarchcut short his eloquence to swell the salvo.

  "The beautiful to the beautiful! The gods reward well. Here is the fairestcrown!"

  For all Eleusis loved Hermione, and would have forgiven far greater thingsfrom her than this.


  * * * * * * *

  Hermippus feasted the whole company,--the crowd at long tables in thecourt, the chosen guests in a more private chamber. "Nothing to excess"was the truly Hellenic maxim of the refined Eleusinian; and he obeyed it.His banquet was elegant without gluttony. The Syracusan cook had prepareda lordly turbot. The wine was choice old Chian but well diluted. There wasno vulgar gorging with meat, after the Boeotian manner; but the greatCopaic eel, "such as Poseidon might have sent up to Olympus," made everygourmand clap his hands. The aromatic honey was the choicest from Mt.Hymettus.

  Since the smaller company was well selected, convention was waived, andladies were present. Hermione sat on a wide chair beside Lysistra, hercomely mother; her younger brothers on stools at either hand. Directlyacross the narrow table Glaucon and Democrates reclined on the same couch.The eyes of husband and wife seldom left each other; their tongues flewfast; they never saw how Democrates hardly took his gaze from the face ofHermione. Simonides, who reclined beside Themistocles,--having struck afirm friendship with that statesman on very brief acquaintance,--wasoverrunning with humour and anecdote. The great man beside him was hardlyhis second in the fence of wit and wisdom. After the fish had given way tothe wine, Simonides regaled the company with a gravely related story ofhow the Dioscuri had personally appeared to him during his last stay inThessaly and saved him from certain death in a falling building.

  "You swear this is a true tale, Simonides?" began Themistocles, with oneeye in his head.

  "It's impiety to doubt. As penalty, rise at once and sing a song in honourof Glaucon's victory."

  "I am no singer or harpist," returned the statesman, with aself-complacency he never concealed. "I only know how to make Athenspowerful."

  "Ah! you son of Miltiades," urged the poet, "at least you will not refuseso churlishly."

  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 touchedThemistocles on the shoulder, and the latter started to go.

  "The Dioscuri will save you?" demanded Simonides, laughing.

  "Quite other gods," rejoined the statesman; "your pardon, Cimon, I returnin a moment. An agent of mine is back from Asia, surely with news ofweight, if he must seek me at once in Eleusis."

  But Themistocles lingered outside; an instant more brought a summons toDemocrates, who found Themistocles in an antechamber, deep in talk withSicinnus,--nominally the tutor of his sons, actually a trusted spy. Thefirst glance at the Asiatic's keen face and eyes was disturbing. An inwardomen--not from the entrails of birds, nor a sign in the heavens--toldDemocrates the fellow brought no happy tidings.

  With incisive questions Themistocles had been bringing out everything.

  "So it is absolutely certain that Xerxes begins his invasion next spring?"

  "As certain as that Helios will rise to-morrow."

  "Forewarned is forearmed. Now where have you been since I sent you off inthe winter to visit Asia?"

  The man, who knew his master loved to do the lion's share of the talking,answered instantly:--

  "Sardis, Emesa, Babylon, Susa, Persepolis, Ecbatana."

  "_Eu!_ Your commission is well executed. Are all the rumours we hear fromthe East well founded? Is Xerxes assembling an innumerable host?"

  "Rumour does not tell half the truth. Not one tribe in Asia but isrequired to send its fighting men. Two bridges of boats are being builtacross the Hellespont. The king will have twelve hundred war triremes,besides countless transports. The cavalry are being numbered by hundredsof thousands, the infantry by millions. Such an army was never assembledsince Zeus conquered the Giants."

  "A merry array!" Themistocles whistled an instant through his teeth; but,never confounded, urged on his questions. "So be it. But is Xerxes the manto command this host? He is no master of war like Darius his father."

  "He is a creature for eunuchs and women; nevertheless his army will notsuffer."

  "And wherefore?"

  "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 youname the arch-foe of Hellas. He, not Xerxes, will be the true leader ofthe host."

  "You saw him, of course?"

  "I did not. A Magian in Ecbatana told me a strange story. 'The Prince,'said he, 'hates the details of camps; leaving the preparation to others,he has gone to Greece to spy out the land he is to conquer.' "

  "Impossible, you are dreaming!" The exclamation came not from Themistoclesbut Democrates.

  "I am not dreaming, worthy sir," returned Sicinnus, tartly; "the Magianmay have lied, but I sought the Prince in every city I visited; theyalways told me, 'He is in another.' He was not at the king's court. He mayhave gone to Egypt, to India, or to Arabia;--he _may_ likewise have gone toGreece."

  "These are serious tidings, Democrates," remarked Themistocles, with ananxiety his voice seldom betrayed. "Sicinnus is right; the presence ofsuch a man as Mardonius in Hellas explains many things."

  "I do not understand."

  "Why, the lukewarmness of so many friends we had counted on, thebickerings which arose among the Confederates when we met just now at theIsthmus, the slackness of all Spartans save Leonidas in preparing for war,the hesitancy of Corcyra in joining us. Thebes is Medizing, Crete isMedizing, so is Argos. Thessaly is wavering. I can almost name the princesand great nobles over Hellas who are clutching at Persian money. O FatherZeus," wound up the Athenian, "if there is not some master-spiritdirecting all this villany, there is no wisdom in Themistocles, son ofNeocles."

  "But the coming of Mardonius to Greece?" questioned the younger man; "theperil he runs? the risk of discovery--"

  "Is all but nothing, except as he comes to Athens, for Medizers willshelter him everywhere. Yet there is one spot--blessed be Athena--"Themistocles's hands went up in easy piety--"where, let him come if come hedare!" Then with a swift change, as was his wont, the statesman lookedstraight on Democrates.

  "Hark you, son of Myscelus; those Persian lords are reckless. He may eventest the fates and set foot in Attica. I am cumbered with as many cares asZeus, but this commission I give to you. You are my most trustedlieutenant; I can risk no other. Keep watch, hire spies, scatterbribe-money. Rest not day nor night to find if Mardonius the Persianenters Athens. Once in our clutches--and you have done Hellas as fair aturn as Miltiades at Marathon. You promise it? Give me your hand."

  "A great task," spoke Democrates, none too readily.

  "And one you are worthy to accomplish. Are we not co-workers for Athensand for Hellas?"

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

  When Democrates returned to the hall, Cimon had ended his song. The guestswere applauding furiously. Wine was still going round, but Glaucon andHermione were not joining. Across the table they were conversing in lowsentences that Democrates could not catch. But he knew well enough themeaning as each face flashed back the beauty of the other. And his mindwandered back darkly to the day when Glaucon had come to him, more radiantthan even his wont, and cried, "Give me joy, dear comrade, joy! Hermippushas promised me the fairest maiden in Athens." Some evil god had madeDemocrates blind to all his boon-companion's wooing. How many hopes of theorator that day had been shattered! Yet he had even professed to rejoicewith the son of Conon.... He sat in sombre silence, until the piping voiceof Simonides awakened him.

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

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

  He spent the rest of the feast drinking deeply, and with much forcedlaughter. The dinner ended toward evening. The whole company escorted thevictor toward Athens. At Daphni, the pass over the hills, the archons andstrategi--highest officials of the state--met them with cavalry and torchesand half of the city trailing at their
heels. Twenty cubits of the citywall were pulled down to make a gate for the triumphal entry. There wasanother great feast at the government house. The purse of an hundreddrachmae, due by law to Isthmian victors, was presented. A street was namedfor Glaucon in the new port-town of Peiraeus. Simonides recited a triumphalode. All Athens, in short, made merry for days. Only one man found it hardto join the mirth whole-heartedly. And this was the victor's bosomfriend,--Democrates.