Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  CHAPTER IX

  I HEARD SOMETHING fall, Biote! Something fall? she repeated, and Kebren threw his legs over the bedside. The thief must have escaped through an open window on hearing my footsteps, he said, when he returned. Dost hear me, Biote? I found but an open window, through which the thief must have climbed on a chair that canted. Dost hear me? Well enough, Kebren; no need to nudge me. No robber but an open window — And the house door open! he interjected.

  The boys in their hurry left it open, she answered. Hast forgotten their prank to spend the night in the branches of a tree rather than in a warm bed? A stifled, gurgling laugh, and the twain slept, their backs turned on each other, till morning, and the first meal was over before Kebren asked Timotheus if Rhesos and Thrasillos had returned from the woods. Timotheus reported their room empty, and Kebren sought Biote, saying: The children have not come back; and he asked how much of the night it was their wont to spend in the branches of their tree. She answered that she thought they had outgrown their strange habit of sleeping in a tree since their escape from the wolf. Of their escape from the wolf I know nothing, he replied, but I beg that their grandfather shall hear naught of this; he might imagine a rape by pirates — She raised her hand, imposing silence, saying:

  Otanes is at the door, come to inquire why the boys are not about.

  To reassure Otanes Kebren avowed his belief in a prank: Played upon us for our refusal to send them to Troy. Well or ill thou mayst have done in forbidding them Troy, Otanes answered, but I acquit them of all malice, a mere boyish prank; and I would remind thee, Kebren, that thy children’s conduct is but an echo of thine own. Eighteen years ago at the bidding of a God thou didst leave Athens to see the bays of Aulis; is it strange, then, that thy sons, a sculptor and an architect in the making, should plan to go away to Athens to see the Parthenon? Thy words, Otanes, will be easier to consider when our children return to us, Kebren answered, and as parents and grandparent stood, uncertain, Photius arrived with the news that his boat, securely moored to the wharf overnight, was missing this morning. We are sorry thy boat is missing, Photius, but why bring the news of thy lost boat to us? Biote asked. For that thy sons may have gone for a night’s fishing as before, honourable lady. A boat can always be paid for, said Kebren, but money cannot bring back our sons if the sea have taken them. And if they have put up a sail and made for Athens, he continued, a wave will swamp the boat, for they have little skill in the management of a boat. I would not go so far as that, Photius answered; they have been out with me fishing. And at the thought that his sons had ventured into the sea in an open boat Kebren’s torment began again. My boat is a good one, sir, and any damage that may be done to her — We will pay! And for the great catch of fishes that I have missed, my boat having been filched from me? Father is right; they have gone to Athens, said Biote. Or maybe to Troy, Kebren answered. Not to Troy, sir, for we had more than a single talk about sailing to Troy. I told them of the currents they would meet, and heard thy son Rhesos whisper: Athens will be an easier voyage. But my boat will be paid for, sir, and the fishes I have lost? They will be paid for. Wherefore I’ll hasten to the tavern to drink to the safe voyaging of thy sons! Thou to thy drink offerings, I to Tanagra, cried Kebren, and a few minutes later he was riding lustily, his thoughts on the cleft out of which the oracle of Amphiaraos spoke, and no sooner had the rocky hill come into sight than a dread began lest he might find it besieged by eager applicants. But the shrine was almost deserted, only an old man seated on a stone by a gate, a staff of gnarled olive-wood by his side, a peaked hat drawn over his head, his tunic, tattered, filthy and begrimed with smoke, declaring him a beggar.

  What may be his errand? Kebren asked himself. Hope must have left him long ago. Warder or beggar, which? And without hazarding another guess he looked into the old man’s face, for he seemed to see it dimly in his memory. We have met before? he asked, and the old man answered: — Ay, I mind me, many years ago, by the bridge over the river Asopos. And didst get an answer from the oracle of Trophonios? No answer at all, said the old man, and ever since I have wandered, the sport of the Gods, drifting from one misfortune to another, like Odysseus himself on leaving Calypso’s island. Didst thou then meet a Calypso? Kebren asked. Women were never in my way, sir, nor I in theirs. I was once a well-to-do man, and, as thou seest, I have been drifting down the stream of life till I came to this stone, where I sit from morn to evening calling to the wayfarer, and if he heeds me I tell him for what fee he may learn the future. I am here for whatever broken meats may be left over, and the right to sleep in the shelter of the oak-trees. And thou, sir — fortune hath favoured thee in Aulis, I can see that, and thou’lt allow me for old acquaintance’s sake to announce thee to the oracle. That she may give thee all her attention I must inform her of thy business — Which is to inquire if I should seek my sons at the Piraeus. Of thy sons, sir, I know nothing, but a young man that might be thy son came from Aulis yesterday, a sculptor, to make sale of his statues. My son of a certainty, and I need not trouble the oracle. But my dole! cried the old man. Half-a-handful of silver for thy news, said Kebren, and a handful thou’lt throw down the cleft for the pythoness. An hour’s rest for me and my horse and we shall be able to continue the journey to Athens, and at a pace that will make up for the time we have lost in coming round by Tanagra.

  His mind was distraught for his son’s safety, but he could not forget the old man whom he had first met eighteen years ago by the bridge-head of the river Asopos, and he was still considering the old man’s story as he rode through Dekeleia.

  On coming to the olive garths he remembered the night he had been chased by dogs, and soon after the murmur of the Kephisos reminded him that he was nigh the end of his journey. At the sight of Athens the horse pricked up his ears and ambled into a sort of trot, but to leave Athens he was not easily persuaded. His instinct does not deceive him, Kebren said to himself; these rocks do not end in a stable! And when he reined in to question a fisherman he learnt that a boat from Aulis would take four or five days to reach the Piraeus. I would hire a boat to meet them, he said. Art willing to put forth with me? To put forth this evening, sir? The sea is a big place and we might miss them, and thy state would be worse than before. Thou hast ridden hard, sir. I have indeed, Kebren answered, throwing himself out of the saddle, and no sooner was the weight off the back of the brown stocky animal with large hooves and hairy fetlocks, and no point to recommend him except a singularly handsome head, than he began to shake himself, and so vigorously that the fishermen wondered at the reason for all this shaking. Flinging his head up into the air and dipping it to his knees, he shook it, his mane and tail waving in the wind, and a fine and strange spectacle it was, one to admire rather than to explain. I have ridden him too fast, said Kebren; we are as tired one as the other; and taking the horse by the bridle he led him to a tavern. A pail of gruel for my horse, a bed for me! he cried to the inn-keeper. I have ridden from Aulis. May I not press upon thee a bowl of soup, sir? A bowl of soup will be welcome in the morning, Kebren answered, and he sought his bed, to be kept awake, however, by anxious thoughts that permitted only vagrant dozes. All night the house seemed beset by noises of rain on the roof and wind in the streets, and he leapt from a doze to look round; and finding only blackness on the stairs he returned to his bed, to struggle and to scream from nightmare to nightmare till it was time to go to the Piraeus. But why go to the Piraeus? Did the fisherman not tell me that the sea would bring me no news for five or six or seven days? Last night I was too tired to think of these days, but now I can think of nothing else, myself sitting watching the sea from morning to evening and for a change fixing my eyes blankly on the Parthenon. Its beauty is great, no doubt, but beauty passes unperceived by a man in search of his sons.

  A sudden twinge of pain reminded him that he must go to the baths: Hot water will remove some of the stiffness from my limbs; and after his bath he bethought himself of his horse, whom he found too tired to struggle to his legs. A horse lyin
g down hath always seemed a strange sight to me, he said to the ostler; a horse looks as if he was intended to stand for ever. He hath been on his legs and fed well, the ostler answered, but he needs a day’s rest — welcome news, for Kebren was in no wise minded to mount and ride. Whither he should ride he did not know, and distraught, his gaze turned upward to the Parthenon; then he bethought himself of the theatre, and going thither he scanned the faces, hoping to discover a friend. But all were unknown to him except the manager, who knew him at once, and after listening to his story said: — I would ask thee for old time’s sake to spend the day with me, but I have many appointments, and my actors are waiting now to rehearse — Stay! a thought has just come to me. Why shouldst thou not take the rehearsal if thou hast leisure? If I have leisure! Seven days of waiting for news of my sons is my lot, and the rehearsal will indeed be a distraction. And with rehearsals to occupy his mind he did not feel the time going by. But a few days later he was sitting on the steps of the Parthenon thinking that unless his sons had met with shipwreck their boat must now at any moment come into sight along the coast. Above him was the blue day with the still unpainted Parthenon upon it, and round him hundreds of slaves and ox-carts, a great shouting and cracking of whips. But what are all these things to me if my sons are drowning, he asked, and he was about to surrender himself to such grief as drives a man mad when two boys carrying a heavy box between them up the hillside came into view.

  At the sound of his father’s voice Thrasillos dropped his end of the box, but by a desperate clutch Rhesos saved it from falling. I just saved it, father; don’t be alarmed. And the accident so narrowly averted seeming to leave Kebren unconcerned, Rhesos added: — In that box is my group, and if it had fallen only a lump of wet clay would have remained of my work. Two ships are searching for you, said Kebren, and I have been round the harbour in a boat; messengers have crossed Attica for news of you — Thou’lt tell us about that later, father. Yonder is Phidias coming down the steps of the Parthenon; I must run to meet him.... He skips up the steps like a goat, said Thrasillos; he can think only of what Phidias will say about his work. I’ll open the box to save time, he added, looking up at his overjoyed father, tall and erect as a poplar, who watched Phidias, a short, thick-bearded man, descend the steps, his long, ungainly feet picking the way carefully, Rhesos by his side ready to catch him should he trip. So this is thy group? Phidias asked. I like it — Tanagra! Aulis and Tanagra are all I know of this world, Rhesos replied. We arrived this morning from Aulis, my brother Thrasillos and I. My sons’ grandfather is Otanes, the great shipper, and I am Kebren, his associate, son of the great fishmonger of Athens, of whom thou mayst have heard, sir. I have eaten his fish and remember him by it, Phidias answered. I am glad that the taste hath fingered over twenty years! Kebren replied. Father, thou hearest my group approved by the master? But although overjoyed by Rhesos’s success, Kebren could not withhold from Phidias the story of the prank his sons played upon him, going away in the middle of the night in a boat stolen from a fisherman. Not stolen, father, cried Rhesos, borrowed! A little difference that I’ll allow you to settle between you, Phidias interjected. But as I see that a new sculptor hath been born to Greece, he shall get his training under my eyes. My second son, Thrasillos, Kebren began — Ah, is he, too, a sculptor? An architect, Thrasillos answered timidly. I have brought my drawings —

  Which thou’lt show to our architects. And leaving the youths to wonder what was going to happen next, Phidias and Kebren talked together of the building of the Parthenon, Phidias saying that Boeotia had contributed very little, Kebren answering: — Otanes will send a big gift of money when he hears of the great praise thou hast given to his grandson. Be not mistaken, Kebren; I did not praise Rhesos to get money to complete the building of the Parthenon; his group earned my praise. Phidias lowered his voice, and it seeming to the lads that he wished to talk privily with their father, they dropped out of earshot, curious though they were to hear the master’s words, which were doubtless about themselves. The men talked together a little while, and then calling to his sons Kebren told them that when they had obtained pardon from their mother and their grandfather for the trouble their flight had occasioned, they could return to Athens to learn the trades for which nature had destined them. When do we return home, father? Rhesos asked, to-morrow or to-night? To-morrow will be better, Phidias interjected; the roads are not always safe at night. And now may we not walk round the new temple of Pallas Athene, father? We may indeed, Kebren answered, and you will do well to glut your eyes. I have travelled the world over and have seen nothing like it.

  Kebren’s innocent admiration of his work pleased Phidias, who accompanied him a little way along a road deeply rutted by oxen burdened with the weight of marble blocks. He pointed out the site destined for a statue of Athene, and when he bade them good-bye (smiling, they thought, rather sadly), Thrasillos asked his father if he would take them to see the theatre in which he had fulfilled the parts of messengers. You would see the theatre? We would indeed, was Thrasillos’s quick rejoinder, and a play by Æschylus, or Euripides. The plays to be performed later are now in rehearsal, Kebren replied, and whilst waiting for you to arrive in the boat which you borrowed from Photius without consulting him, I attended a rehearsal — I may say that I took the rehearsal at the request of the manager. Took the rehearsal, father, after all these years! I just stepped back into my own natural life, said Kebren, and was congratulated by the manager upon some small improvements. We would prefer to see thee rehearse a play, father, rather than to see the public performance. I thank thee, Thrasillos, for thy good opinion of me. Had you arrived a few days earlier —

  But we knew not thou wouldst take a rehearsal in the manager’s absence! Nor did ye know the anxiety that you caused, Kebren replied; and it would seem that ye are not yet aware of it. Mother’s anger, if she be angry with us, will pass when she hears that Phidias liked my group, Rhesos said, with a yawn, angering the even-tempered Kebren, who reminded his son that it was not his mother but his father who was the judge on all such matters — words that caused Thrasillos to tremble; and to save his father and brother from an unpleasant wrangle he spoke of the view of Athens under the sunrise that awaited them in the morning. Thou speakest with as much assurance as if thou hadst ordered the sunrise thyself! Kebren answered, with an almost smile. The sun will not rise at my bidding, father, but there will be a sunrise. And whilst talking of the morning light that would show Athens to the most advantage, they arrived at the theatre. A rehearsal was in progress, and Kebren asked for permission to attend it with his sons, and permission being given, the elated youths put questions to their father, but were checked by the words: Hush! Silence is enjoined. After the rehearsal Rhesos and Thrasillos, still elated, were taken to an eating-house, the resort of the actors; there were introductions, and anecdotes were told, and they would have liked to accompany the actors on their daily walk to the river Kephisos. But Kebren insisted on showing them round the city, saying that the Kephisos was too far, and at the end of a very happy evening Rhesos and Thrasillos were glad to return to the inn for supper. Better even than the supper was the bed that awaited them; it seemed years since they had lain in one; and Thrasillos would have slept another couple of hours if Rhesos’s voice had not cried in his ear: Awake, awake, Thrasillos, and tell us what hath become of thy sunrise and all the temples underneath it.

  I hear thy words but understand them not at all, Thrasillos replied, rising from the bed. If thou art too sleepy to understand my words, mayhap thou wilt believe thine eyes! A fog hath come up from the sea during the night, Thrasillos said, speaking from the window, and the passengers, belated and wondering, ask for guidance. A horseman reins up his horse, but the passenger is under the animal’s hooves. The fog makes an end of our hope for another day in Athens, Rhesos replied. Father cries to us to hasten, Rhesos, and I hear the sound of hooves halting at the front door. And it was whilst drinking a stirrup-cup that Thrasillos remembered Photius’s boat.
I have sent a message to the Piræus, Kebren answered, and the fisherman with whom thou didst leave it will return it to Photius. Now into your saddles. I stifle in this fog and would ride out of it through the Achamian Gate. The gate, said Thrasillos, through which thy way led on the night the God spoke in thine ear, bidding thee to Aulis. Rhesos was about to speak, but he allowed his brother to finish the story they had often heard at their father’s knees. Said a soldier: The road will lead thee to the bridge-head, and thence Aulis is not more than twelve leagues, a pleasant moonlight stroll! Often they had laughed at the soldier’s reply, and it was amusing to laugh at it again, to halloo through the mist and to ride in the direction of voices, to halloo once more and to be answered by receding voices. At last a peasant ploughing came into view, and taking his hands from the stilts he began to tell that they would recover the track at the end of his vore, and a long telling it proved to be. So thick was the mist that naught was seen of the field but a shadowy hedge, with an elm rising out of it like a whiff of smoke, but the wooden plough and its two small oxen were quite plain, and unmindful of their father’s efforts to follow the Boeotian dialect, Rhesos and Thrasillos admired the beasts, one white, the other red, with long, curving horns and small, cloven hooves. Glad of a pause in their work they stood still as sculpture, their breath rising slowly from their stooped, moist muzzles. Thou canst not miss the track; the sun is coming out, the peasant called after them. I hope thou speakest truly, Kebren called in return, for should the sun prove a laggard we are lost indeed. But soon after a copper-coloured sun struggled valiantly with the mist, and before a league was accomplished they were riding through vineyards and cornfields dozing in the mellow light of the September day.