A Victor of Salamis

by William Stearns Davis

  CHAPTER XV

  THE LOTUS-EATING AT SARDIS

  When Glaucon awoke to consciousness, it was with a sense of absoluteweakness, at the same moment with a sense of absolute rest. He knew thathe was lying on pillows "softer than sleep," that the air he breathed wasladen with perfume, that the golden light which came through hishalf-closed eyelids was deliciously tempered, that his ears caught amusical murmur, as of a plashing fountain. So he lay for long, tooimpotent, too contented to ask where he lay, or whence he had departed.Athens, Hermione, all the thousand and one things of his old life, flittedthrough his brain, but only as vague, far shapes. He was too weak even tolong for them. Still the fountain plashed on, and mingling with thetinkling he thought he heard low flutes breathing. Perhaps it was only aphantasy of his flagging brain. Then his eyes opened wider. He lifted hishand. It was a task even to do that little thing,--he was so weak. Helooked at the hand! Surely his own, yet how white it was, how thin; thebones 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 sportfor a child to master him now. He touched his face. It was covered with athick beard, as of a long month's growth. The discovery startled him. Hestrove to rise on one elbow. Too weak! He sank back upon the cushions andlet his eyes rove inquiringly. Never had he seen tapestries the like ofthose that canopied his bed. Scarlet and purple and embroidered in goldthread with elaborate hunting scenes,--the dogs, the chariots, the slayingof the deer, the bearing home of the game. He knew the choicest looms ofSidon must have wrought them. And the linen, so cool, so grateful,underneath his head--was it not the almost priceless fabric of Borsippa? Hestirred a little, his eyes rested on the floor. It was covered with a rugworth an Athenian patrician's ransom,--a lustrous, variegated sheen,showing a new tint at each change of the light. So much he saw from thebed, and curiosity was wakened. Again he put forth his hand, and touchedthe hanging curtains. The movement set a score of little silver bells thatdangled over the canopy to jingling. As at a signal the flutes grewlouder, mingling with them was the clearer note of lyres. Now the strainsswelled sweetly, now faded away into dreamy sighing, as if bidding thelistener to sink again into the arms of sleep. Another vain effort to riseon his elbow. Again he was helpless. Giving way to the charm of the music,he closed his eyes.

  "Either I am awaking in Elysium, or the gods send to me pleasant dreamsbefore I die."

  He was feebly wondering which was the alternative when a new sound rousedhim, the sweep and rustle of the dresses of two women as they approachedthe bed. He gazed forth listlessly, when lo! above his couch stood twostrangers,--strangers, but either as fair as Aphrodite arising from thesea. Both were tall, and full of queenly grace, both were dressed in gauzywhite, but the hair of the one was of such gold that Glaucon hardly sawthe circlet which pressed over it. Her eyes were blue, the lustre of herface was like a white rose. The other's hair shone like the wing of araven. A wreath of red poppies covered it, but over the softly tintedforehead there peered forth a golden snake with emerald eyes--the Egyptianuraeus, the crown of a princess from the Nile. Her eyes were as black asthe other's were blue, her lips as red as the dye of Tyre, her hands--Butbefore Glaucon looked and wondered more, the first, she of the goldenhead, laid her hand upon his face,--a warm, comforting hand that seemed tospeed back strength and gladness with the touch. Then she spoke. Her Greekwas very broken, yet he understood her.

  "Are you quite awakened, dear Glaucon?"

  He looked up marvelling, not knowing how to answer; but the golden goddessseemed to expect none from him.

  "It is now a month since we brought you from Astypalaea. You have wanderedclose to the Portals of the Dead. We feared you were beloved by Mazda toowell, that you would never wake that we might bless you. Night and dayhave my husband and I prayed to Mithra the Merciful and Hauratat theHealth-Giver in your behalf; each sunrise, at our command, the Magianshave poured out for you the Haoma, the sacred juice dear to the BeautifulImmortals, and Amenhat, wisest of the physicians of Memphis, has stood byyour bedside without rest. Now at last our prayers and his skill haveconquered; you awake to life and gladness."

  Glaucon lay wondering, not knowing how to reply, and only understanding inhalf, when the dark-haired goddess spoke, in purer Greek than hercompanion.

  "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." Then drawingnear she took his hand in hers, while the two smiling looked down on him.

  Then at last he found tongue to speak. "O gracious Queens, for such youare, forgive my roving wits. You speak of great service done. But wiseZeus knoweth we are strangers--"

  The golden goddess tossed her shining head and smiled,--still stroking withher hand.

  "Dear Glaucon, do you remember the Eastern lad you saved from the Spartansat the Isthmus? Behold him! Recall the bracelet of turquoise,--my firstgratitude. Then again you saved me with my husband. For I am the woman youbore through the surf at the island. I am Artazostra, wife of Mardonius,and this is Roxana, his half-sister, whose mother was a princess inEgypt."

  Glaucon passed his fingers before his face, beckoning back the past.

  "It is all far away and strange: the flight, the storm, the wreck, thetossing spar, the battling through the surges. My head is weak. I cannotpicture it all."

  "Do not try. Lie still. Grow strong and glad, and suffer us to teach you,"commanded Artazostra.

  "Where do I lie? We are not upon the rocky islet still?"

  The ladies laughed, not mockingly but so sweetly he wished that they wouldnever cease.

  "This is Sardis," spoke Roxana, bending over him; "you lie in the palaceof the satrap."

  "And Athens--" he said, wandering.

  "Is far away," said Artazostra, "with all its griefs and false friends andfoul remembrances. The friends about you here will never fail. Thereforelie still and have peace."

  "You know my story," cried he, now truly in amaze.

  "Mardonius knows all that passes in Athens, in Sparta, in every city ofHellas. Do not try to tell more. We weary you already. See--Amenhat comesto bid us begone."

  The curtains parted again. A dark man in a pure white robe, his face andhead smooth-shaven, approached the bed. He held out a broad gold cup, therim whereof glinted with agate and sardonyx. He had no Greek, but Roxanatook the cup from him and held it to Glaucon's lips.

  "Drink," she commanded, and he was fain to obey. The Athenian felt theheavily spiced liquor laying hold of him. His eyes closed, despite hiswish to gaze longer on the two beautiful women. He felt their handscaressing his cheeks. The music grew ever softer. He thought he wassinking into a kind of euthanasy, that his life was drifting out amiddelightful dreams. But not cold Thanatos, but health-bearing Hypnos wasthe god who visited him now. When next he woke, it was with a clearervision, a sounder mind.

  * * * * * * *

  Sardis the Golden, once capital of the Lydian kings and now of the Persiansatraps, had recovered from the devastation by the Ionians in theirill-starred revolt seventeen years preceding. The city spread in thefertile Sardiene, one of the garden plains of Asia Minor. To the south thecloud-crowned heights of Tmolus ever were visible. To the north flowed thenoble stream of Hebrus, whilst high above the wealthy town, the busyagora, the giant temple of Lydian Cybele, rose the citadel of Meles, thepalace fortress of the kings and the satraps. A frowning castle it waswithout, within not the golden-tiled palaces of Ecbatana and Susa boastedgreater magnificence and luxury than this one-time dwelling of Croesus. Theceilings of the wide banqueting halls rose on pillars of emerald Egyptianmalachite. The walls were cased with onyx. Winged bulls that might havegraced Nineveh guarded the portals. The lions upbearing the throne in thehall of audience were of gold. The mirrors in the "House of the Women"were not steel but silver. The gorgeous carpets were sprinkled with rosewater. An army of dark Syrian eunuchs and yellow-faced
Tartar girls ran atthe beck of the palace guests. Only the stealthy entrance of Sickness andDeath told the dwellers here they were not yet gods.

  Artaphernes, satrap of Lydia, had his divan, his viziers, and hisaudiences,--a court worthy of a king,--but the real lord of Western Asia wasthe prince who was nominally his guest. Mardonius had his own retinue andwing of the palace. On him fell the enormous task of organizing the massesof troops already pouring into Sardis, and he discharged his dutyunwearyingly. The completion of the bridges of boats across theHellespont, the assembling of the fleet, the collecting of provisions,fell to his province. Daily a courier pricked into Sardis with despatchesfrom the Great King to his trusted general. Mardonius left the greatlevees and public spectacles to Artaphernes, but his hand was everywhere.His decisions were prompt. He was in constant communication with theMedizing party in Hellas. He had no time for the long dicing and drinkingbouts the Persians loved, but he never failed to find each day an hour tospend with Artazostra his wife, with Roxana his half-sister, and withGlaucon his preserver.

  Slowly through the winter health had returned to the Athenian. For days hehad lain dreaming away the hours to the tune of the flutes and thefountains. When the warm spring came, the eunuchs carried him in asedan-chair through the palace garden, whence he could look forth on theplain, the city, the snow-clad hills, and think he was on Zeus's Olympianthrone, surveying all the earth. Then it was he learned the Persianspeech, and easily, for were not his teachers Artazostra and Roxana? Hefound it no difficult tongue, simple and much akin to Greek, and unlikemost of the uncouth tongues the Oriental traders chattered in Sardis. Thetwo women were constantly with him. Few men were admitted to a Persianharem, but Mardonius never grudged the Greek the company of these twain.

  "Noble Athenian," said the Prince, the first time he visited Glaucon'sbed, "you are my brother. My house is yours. My friends are yours. Commandus all."

  * * * * * * *

  Every day Glaucon was stronger. He tested himself with dumb-bells. Alwayshe could lift a heavier weight. When the summer was at hand, he could rideout with Mardonius to the "Paradise," the satrap's hunting park, and be inat the death of the deer. Yet he was no more the "Fortunate Youth" ofAthens. Only imperfectly he himself knew how complete was the severancefrom his old life. The terrible hour at Colonus had made a mark on hisspirit which not all Zeus's power could take away. No doubt all theone-time friends believed him dead. Had Hermione's confidence in himremained true? Would she not say "guilty" at last with all the rest?Mardonius might have answered, he had constant letters from Greece, butthe Prince was dumb when Glaucon strove to ask of things beyond the AEgean.

  Day by day the subtle influence of the Orient--the lotus-eating,--"tastingthe honey-sweet fruit which makes men choose to abide forever, forgetfulof the homeward way"--spread its unseen power over the Alcmaeonid. 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 toreturn to Athens, after wiping out his shame, than to break these bandsdaily tightening.

  He heard little Greek, now that he was learning Persian. Even he himselfwas changed. His hair and beard grew long, after the Persian manner. Hewore the loose Median cloak, the tall felt cap of a Persian noble. Theelaborate genuflexions of the Asiatics no longer astonished him. Helearned to admire the valiant, magnanimous lords of the Persians. AndXerxes, the distant king, the wielder of all this power, was he not trulya god on earth, vicegerent of Lord Zeus himself?

  "Forget you are a Hellene. We will talk of the Nile, not of theCephissus," Artazostra said, whenever he spoke of home. Then she wouldtell of Babylon and Persepolis, and Mardonius of forays beside the wideCaspian, and Roxana of her girlhood, while Gobryas was satrap of Egypt,spent beside the magic river, of the Pharaohs, the great pyramid, of Isisand Osiris and the world beyond the dead. Before the Athenian was openedthe golden East, its glitter, its wonderment, its fascination. He even wassilent when his hosts talked boldly of the coming war, how soon thePersian power would rule from the Pillars of Heracles to Ind.

  Yet once he stood at bay, showing that he was a Hellene still. They werein the garden. Mardonius had come to them where under the pomegranate treethe women spread their green tapestry which their nimble needles coveredwith a battle scene in scarlet. The Prince told of the capture andcrucifixion of the chiefs of a futile revolt in Armenia. Then Artazostraclapped her hands to cry.

  "Fools! Fools whom Angra-Mainyu the Evil smites blind that he may destroythem!"

  Glaucon, sitting at her feet, looked up quickly. "Valiant fools, lady;every man must strike for his own country."

  Artazostra shook her shining head.

  "Mazda gives victory to the king of Eran alone. Resisting Xerxes is notrebellion against man, it is rebellion against Heaven."

  "Are you sure?" asked the Athenian, his eye lighting ominously. "Are yoursthe greatest gods?"

  But Roxana in turn cast down the tapestry and opened her arms with acharming gesture.

  "Be not angry, Glaucon, for will you not become one with us? I dare toprophesy like a seer from old Chaldea. Assur of Nineveh, Marduk ofBabylon, Baal of Tyre, Ammon of Memphis--all have bent the knee to Mazdathe Glorious, to Mithra the Fiend-Smiting, and shall the weak _daevas_, thepuny gods of Greece, save their land, when greater than they bow down insore defeat?"

  Yet Glaucon still looked on her boldly.

  "You have your mighty gods, but we have ours. Pray to your Mazda andMithra, but we will still trust Zeus of the Thunders and Athena of theGray Eyes, the bulwarks of our fathers. And Fate must answer which canhelp the best."

  The Persians shook their heads. It was time to return to the palace. Allthat 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 Princewalked with his wife, Glaucon with Roxana. He had always thought herbeautiful; she had never seemed so beautiful as now. Did he imaginewhither Mardonius perhaps was leading him?