by George Moore
CHAPTER VIII
EVERY MORNING AFTER a brief prayer and an invocation of the blessed Gods Biote sat at a small table teaching her sons ancient Greek from the Odyssey, pointing out the differences between it and the Greek of Æschylus and Sophocles. Thrasillos was always willing to learn, but Rhesos had little thought for lessons, and guessing a possible truancy in his restlessness one morning she mentioned that his father had taken the part of the messenger in the play they were about to read. But, mother, to read a play is not the same thing as to see it; and I’ve promised to meet a friend. The excuse seemed reasonable enough and she let him go without protest, but when he bustled back into the schoolroom a few minutes afterwards, interrupting the lesson, she was very wroth. Only a word with Thrasillos, mother; and having whispered it Rhesos went away to keep his appointment, leaving her to continue the lesson as best she could.
An hour later at the sound of the gong the manuscripts were closed, and after the midday meal Biote and Thrasillos walked out together. Their usual walk was along the road to Marathon, and they had not accomplished half-a-league when they were joined by Rhesos. Mother quarrels with him, and the next time they meet she has forgotten all about it! Thrasillos said to himself, and thinking of an escape into the woods he ran away without attracting the notice of either mother or brother; and when he returned with stories of the birds he had seen and the beasts, the only answer he got was: Yes, yes, Thrasillos, but Rhesos is telling me that at Tanagra the clay model is sometimes baked in a fully heated kiln, and sometimes the kiln is only half heated. Thou’lt do well to hear how the kiln must be left to cool before it is opened; were it opened at once all the pretty little figures we admire (some of them thy toys, Thrasillos) would be broken. Thrasillos had come to dread the name Tanagra; for him it meant being left out of the conversation. He ran back into the woods, and when he returned thinking that they must have finished tiresome talk, he met his mother walking alone in the middle of the road. Hath Rhesos gone away in a huff? he asked. Biote did not reply, and in the hope of soothing her Thrasillos mentioned that Rhesos was expecting the head man from Tanagra. Hardly a reason for leaving me to walk home alone! To save thee from walking back alone, mother, I left the woods; and hurt by her silence he followed her timidly, asking himself if she was still angry with Rhesos for interrupting the lesson. Or did she hear what Rhesos whispered: We shall sleep in the woods to-night? If she did we shall be forbidden to leave the house and told to go to our beds.
But their secret had not come to Biote’s ears, and after the evening meal they were searched for in vain, and her anger was not less when they returned in the morning pleading that sleeping under boughs was a pleasant change. Why not come with us one night, mother? said Rhesos, and we’ll all sleep under boughs. The invitation pleased her, but her constraint was such that she could think only of how to compel obedience, and very soon she was nursing a grudge against her father, who always sided with Rhesos, asking herself if she, too, did not sometimes side with Rhesos against herself; and pausing in her work she remembered how her will had deserted her a month ago when Rhesos told her curtly that he was going to spend the night in a boat on the Euripos spearing fish. With or without my permission? she asked. He nodded, and his nod had angered her more than any words could, so supercilious was it, and resolving to be revenged she had awaited her opportunity for hours together, till at last she surrendered herself to violence and locked him into his room. The key had barely turned in the lock when her courage failed her, and she would have liked to unlock the door if she could have done so without his hearing it; but he heard the key turn and answered immediately: — Mother, if the door be not opened at once I shall leave by the window, never to return At the words, never to return, it was as if she had been struck with a knife through the heart. She dared not speak; she was nigh to swooning, with hardly strength enough to turn the key; but she had turned it, and with her own blue eyes fixed upon her he said: Thou must learn, mother, to love me for what I am now — to forget that I am no more a little child.
Harsh words, yet I love his harshness better than any kindness. Once we were mother and son; now.... Her thoughts faded away, and when the shuttle dropping from her hand awoke her, she sat wondering, clear-headed, and went away to ask her father to send out word by the next ship that Kebren was to come home. The ship bearing the letter of recall might fail to reach Kebren, it is true, and even if the ship were fortunate enough to meet him at one of the ports, he might prove unable to impose his will upon Rhesos; but she must take risks. Her father, too, would like to have Kebren back; he was lonely without Kebren. Never had two men loved each other more sincerely; from the first their different natures had drawn them together. Moreover, her father had come upon a head man who might replace Kebren with advantage. All things were working for her happiness, and satisfied that this was so, she fell to thinking that Kebren’s return must not be spoilt by jars and quarrels. She foresaw no quarrel likely to arise between herself and Kebren — but Rhesos? Of him she knew nothing, and to prepare him for his father’s coming she began to tell him all she knew of Egypt’s pyramids and sphinxes.
Grandfather hath told me of these things, mother, and there are many things in Egypt I look forward to hearing of besides the sphinxes and the pyramids. They have at Tanagra a bust of a princess who died thousands of years ago; she is more alive in her black marble than thou and I are in our flesh, and there’s a man at Tanagra who tells that there have been sculptures in Egypt — Rhesos dear, await thy father’s return with patience, and remember that he must be allowed to tell his own story. But Kebren had scarcely crossed the threshold when his son cried: Father, hast thou been to Egypt? Yes, Rhesos, I have. And hast seen a gigantic lion? Themison at Tanagra tells me that the man who did that lion knew all there was to know about the beast. My dear Rhesos, thou art grown a rude fellow. Allow me to take pleasure in my sight and hearing of you all before I begin to talk of the lion! The slaves brought in torches and the talk continued long into the night, Rhesos waiting for the moment when Kebren would take pity on him and tell him if he had seen the lion, and if it were as wonderful as Themison had thought it. Next day he gave the attitude of the beast in words and afterwards in a drawing, but Kebren could not remember the lion, and in the hope of interesting Rhesos he talked of the monuments, the pyramids, the temples, the sphinxes, and the great granite Gods, their hands posed on their knees. Attitudes, he said, that represent eternity; a phrase that irritated Rhesos and obliged him to interrupt his father with the question whether he had come across any satyrs in Egypt. Kebren answered that he had heard of satyrs in lower Egypt and supposed them to be plentiful about the source of the Nile. Nor are they extinct in Greece; thy mother tells a queer story of one in the wooded hills about Marathon that was made drunk — With my wine! cried Biote. A few flagons, mother, and to them I owe it that they bought my satyr and his wife at Tanagra, and sold it too. I am glad to hear that thy group hath found admirers, Rhesos; all the same, to take thy mother’s wine without permission, to stop out all night, and to spend days in the woods, leaving her alone — Grandfather is here; and after all, she would do well to remember that I am no longer a child. I think there is very little thy mother does not understand, Rhesos.
Mothers understand girls — O, Rhesos! I am sorry, mother. But why should we not go to Troy, Thrasillos and I? Why is Troy forbidden to us? I am sure thy mother hath very good reasons, Kebren replied, and Rhesos turned to leave the hall; but at that moment, catching sight of Thrasillos peeping round the corner, he said: Thou hast come in time to hear why father and mother do not wish us to go to Troy. Rhesos, I did not say that you should not go to Troy; your mother hath reasons that she will confide to me; and meanwhile it were well that thou shouldst mend thy manners. But without waiting for further reproof, Rhesos joined Thrasillos in the doorway, announcing: — I shall not return for supper to-night.
We should have brought some bread and cheese with us, Rhesos. We might have done that, Thrasill
os. Art coming with me? I am coming with thee, Thrasillos answered, reluctant, for he guessed his brother to be meditating some project of revenge. Father and mother are wrong to forbid us to journey to Troy, he continued, but by giving in to them we may get our way more readily than by defying them. Art curious to hear why Troy is forbidden to us? I’ll tell thee: for that they planned to go to Troy themselves after their marriage and never went thither. Jealousy, Thrasillos, jealousy that they are ashamed of and dare not avouch to each other. We might have a look round, Rhesos, for the cubs that are often playing outside the den, waiting for old mother wolf to return with a hare or a lamb. We might do that and many other things, Rhesos answered, and we might say we were chased by the old wolf — but no; the wood would be forbidden to us, like Troy. We should have stood our ground. This is not the way to Thermopylae, Rhesos. I did not say it was! cried Rhesos. I think I shall go home, Thrasillos replied, and then rousing himself to unexpected courage, he added: I have done nothing to offend thee. The justice of this remark appealed to Rhesos, who begged his brother to understand that it was for them to show father and mother that they were not children any longer; and coming out of the woods they stood watching a galley with a great sail set. All the rowers pulling hard, said Thrasillos, in the hope that the tide will have turned before they reach the strait Mention not tides and currents at home, Rhesos remarked, lest swimming be forbidden to us! We must do something to show them we are no longer children. If we don’t, we shall be treated like children until — Until we have beards and whiskers, Thrasillos interjected. That’s the wisest thing thou hast said this afternoon! Till we have beards, Rhesos repeated; and forgetful of Thrasillos and the galley he stood, his eyes fixed on the island opposite, thinking that after swimming the strait they might hide without chance of discovery in the deep woods that clothed the hills, getting food from the shepherds or bringing enough food with them in a boat to last for a week. I am thinking, Thrasillos, how we may give our parents a great fright. They deserve one, he added, and we can put a good one upon them by stopping away a few days in the house we have built in the branches of the oak. Wolves cannot climb trees, said Thrasillos, but bears can; moreover, we might fall from our house whilst we slept. Why then, Tanagra is not far off. I am not taken for a child there; indeed, my models are as good as any they make. And whilst thou art at Tanagra, Rhesos, am I to remain at home? Thou canst serve thine apprenticeship in Euboea, where a temple is being built to Zeus; and when we have learnt our trades and saved some money, we shall be children no longer. Now, listen to me. If we’re asked where we have been all the afternoon, we’ll answer: — Down by the shore, and we’ll laugh and talk to each other, and after the meal sidle up to grandfather, and they’ll soon come round. And at the end of the week it was plain that the house was divided, Otanes and the boys ranged against Kebren and Biote.
Father would be all right were it not for mother. Art awake, Thrasillos? A muffled voice answered: Yes, I’m awake; what is it? A riddle: — When does a boy cease to be a boy? When he grows a beard, Thrasillos replied. With beard or without beard, said Rhesos, a man is not a man till he begins to get his own living; before then he is a child or a slave, which is the same thing. When money jingles in his pocket he chooses the work that it pleases him to do; he is no longer told to do work that he hates; and thou, Thrasillos, wouldst understand our need of money if thou hadst heard father and mother debating whether thou shouldst join grandfather in the counting-house or be put to sea. Was it not always agreed between us, Rhesos, that I should build temples and that thou shouldst carve statues? Is all this to be set at naught? And if I fail in the counting-house am I to be apprenticed to some other trade? — a fishmonger, at Athens, perchance! Father spoilt the fish he chopped, and grandfather Fishmonger bade him begone to his fancy. Why shouldn’t the old man and the old woman, as thou callest them, Rhesos, do by us as they were done by? Rhesos did not answer, and the silence was broken by stifled sobs. Take thy head from the pillow, Thrasillos, and be a man. Thy words were, Rhesos, that a man is never a man till he earns his own living, and thou hast by nearly three years the advantage of me. We should have been twin brothers, and then we had no need to separate. There is no cause for tears, Thrasillos. Cause enough, I’m thinking, Thrasillos replied, since my life will be far from thee. We shall save our lives yet, said Rhesos, and thou shalt hear how this may be done. And these words drying Thrasillos’s tears, he listened to his brother’s plan for saving him for architecture, a simple one: that he (Rhesos) should earn money till there was enough —
For the journey to Troy! Thrasillos interjected. No, for a journey to Athens, where there is work for all, young and old.
And the boys having now a secret and an end to work for, submitted to the control of their parents without discontent, the deluded parents delighting in their obedience, now and then a little perturbed by a suspicion that they were hiding something, so closely was Thrasillos occupied with his brother’s work, handing him the wet clay he needed for the statue, or sitting in woman’s raiment till he ached, not daring to move lest he should disturb the fold that Rhesos was working on. Once Biote nearly surprised their secret. So absorbed in his work was Rhesos that he was unaware of her presence and babbled something about the journey to Athens to Thrasillos, who was sitting for a garment. So thou’rt planning a journey to Athens? she asked. Is not everybody in Boeotia planning or meditating a journey to Athens, mother? an answer that recalled to Biote the talk she had heard in the street on her way to the workshop. It is quite true, she said: the Parthenon is the talk of all Boeotia. We have been too long in Aulis and need a holiday. Grandfather, too, would like to see the Parthenon.’ I will speak to father about the journey, she added, and Rhesos in a mood of politeness put down his modelling-stick and opened the door for her.... Thou canst rest now, Thrasillos; I have finished the fold. The chick was nearly out of its shell that time! he continued. I don’t know thy feelings about mother’s projected visit to Athens, but I shall not be one of the party. When I go to Athens I’ll go alone. But thou’lt take me with thee, Rhesos? Of course I’ll take thee, and three or four of my figures to show to Phidias. In a knapsack thy figures may be spoilt, said Thrasillos. Were my figures packed in a knapsack all I should have to show to Phidias would be some lumps of wet clay! I am doing a copy of the group of two women seated together, one telling stories, the other listening — like all copies, without the spirit of the original, but all the same good enough for Tanagra. That rascally overseer will try, of course, to get it as cheap as he can, and I shall try to get as much as I can for it. And thou, Thrasillos, wilt answer cautiously when questions are put to thee: Where is Rhesos? Mother will be the first to give tongue, and then father will begin baying, but thou must answer that thou wert asleep when I left the house, or thou mayst speak of the window. And now no more; I have the group to finish. Come and look at it. I think the overseer would pass it as it is, but I’ve still an hour left to work on it. The rest is with me; thou’lt hear it all in good time. Thrasillos left the workshop awed by his brother’s wisdom and enterprise, and Rhesos worked on till the light failed. The group is finished, he said, doffing his smock, but a cart and a carrier are needed; and after locking the door of the workshop he was fortunate enough to walk straight into the arms of the man he was looking for.
My group is finished and must go to the overseer at Tanagra before noon. Art free to take it thither? Myself and my cart and my horse are at thy service for a fair price, young sir, and thou’lt drive with me in the cart to care for thy statues, for the road is a rough one. At the corner of the lane, then, Rhesos answered, a couple of hours after daybreak. Tanagra is about four leagues, said the carrier, and a league an hour will be the most we shall do, having thought all the time not for the pace but for the safety of thy luggage. And it was the safety of his group that held Rhesos’s attention all the way. I see a big stone in front of us; keep to the right! he cried. Later, half-a-league from Tanagra, the cart slipped into a hole in th
e road, and Rhesos foresaw great damage done to his group. A bruised or twisted limb for certain, he muttered, or mayhap only a crumpled fold which I can restore in the presence of the overseer.... If I might have an hour to work on the group — No need to work for an hour or for five minutes, replied the overseer, and his fingers went to make the correction; but Rhesos stopped him, saying: May I restore the fold? If it pleases thee: and the overseer asked abruptly if Rhesos had come to him for an opinion or to sell the group. To sell the group, Rhesos answered, for I would earn money to go to Athens with my brother, whose designs for the rebuilding of Troy would surprise thee. Life is dear in Athens, said the overseer, and I cannot give thee enough for the group — hast other specimens of thy work? A copy of the group before thee I am bringing to Phidias in the hope that he will approve. He will like the gossips, replied the overseer; I will give fifty drachmae for it. Fifty drachmae, Rhesos replied, would be little enough for a holiday in Athens. With two more figures I’ll make it sixty drachmae; and between them it was planned that a cart should be sent next day from Tanagra. Now for the drachmae, said the overseer; the carrier will bring them —— — I’d show them to my brother to-night, Rhesos interjected. As thou wilt; and with the face of a man who is satisfied with the bargain he has made, the overseer added: — Rolled in a skin and packed on thy shoulders like a knapsack, thou’lt carry the burden without feeling it. For no more than half the way, Rhesos answered: and it was as he expected. Within a league of Aulis he would have given much to have the drachmæ off his shoulders for ten minutes. But how shall I get them up again if I loosen the straps? he asked himself. With the aid of a peasant? But so many pounds of dead weight would beget suspicion that there was money about! And to avoid an evil blow he struggled on, passing the peasants with a careless: Good-evening, till he reached the corner of the wall over which Thrasillos would come at his whistle.
