by George Moore
From my store, she said on arriving at the house, you will choose some presents. Rings would look well on your fingers. Here is one of gold and green jasper that will bring thee luck, Earine, and distract Rhesos’s thoughts from his modelling. Wear the ring always when posing before him, and he’ll lay down his modelling tool and ask to kiss thy fingers. Try on this little scarab, Melissa, and one of these days, when we have more time to talk about pleasant matters, I’ll tell thee a story about it. To-day we have only time to examine the rings. Here we have a satyr carved on an agate, dancing. Look at him and admire his joyousness. He hath come from some rich man’s house carrying with him a stolen drinking-cup. Earine asked if satyrs stole things, and Biote answered: The best trap to catch a satyr is the wine-trap, and a drunken satyr makes merry a meal that would have gone sadly without him. But forget the satyr for a moment so that you may give all your thoughts to these bracelets and armlets. Armlets you must have, and here are a number, plain gold ornamented with lions’ heads, two for Melissa and two for Earine. Reach out your arms... However fine a wrist, it looks slenderer with a bracelet upon it and the best-turned elbow needs an armlet. A well-furnished toilet-table attracts a husband to his wife; it flatters him that great money hath been spent for his pleasure. Double-edged are these combs; I press them upon thee, Melissa; and to my fingers comes a carven ivory which is for thee, Earine. Trinkets, hairpins and hair bands — choose, I beg of you, for the more you take the more secure my plans. Earrings neither of you wear, I perceive, and here are some to match the armlets, gold wire twisted into a hoop, ending in lions’ heads. Now, which trinket is to your fancy? We are a little bewildered by the profusion, Earine answered, but she chose timidly a bronze mirror atop of a statue of Aphrodite in the form of a caryatid, and Biote approved her choice. It comes to thee by right, she said, for thou art beautiful as Aphrodite herself in thy hinder parts, so my son tells me — at which the girls laughed, Biote joining in their laughter, Earine at last putting her back to the wall and refusing to leave it till Biote said: Come, we have had enough laughter. I see you casting covetous eyes on the silken robes woven at Cos, and though Aphrodite hath no need to hide herself behind silks, sometimes a little hiding exhilarates a husband. You see how careful I am to think of you? This lozenge pattern is as pretty as any I know — gowns to slip on after leaving the couch, gowns to meet friends in, to wear whilst sipping wine and telling scandalous stories. Yes, they are for you, some for Earine and some for Melissa — there must never be jealousy between you. And leaving the girls to enfold themselves in the silks, each exhibiting herself to the other, Biote wandered round the room, returning with scarves from Carthage in one hand and hats which would protect their necks from the sun in the other.
We are grateful to thee, Biote, said Melissa, and look forward to the day when it shall be our right to wear the rings and the bracelets and the scarves thou hast given us. And are you divided as to the date of your marriages? Biote asked. Not divided, said Melissa; but last night I said to Earine: Our lovers will never love us better than they do to-day, and she answered me: They will never love us better, but will they love us as well? Do I report thee truly, Earine? Earine, without answering, picked up a lyre and sang:
Numerous as doves from a dove-cote rising
Rise my dreams, but never as doves return they;
Darkening all the skies with their wings they wander,
Lost in the darkness.
Wherefore hasten, dream of my heart,
O hasten Homeward, lest too late to my heart returning
They shouldst find there only the down and broken
Shells of the fledgelings.
Aphrodite must have put that song into thy mind, Earine. It came to me unsought, said Earine, and may have come at the bidding of Aphrodite; I have not sung it for years. Aphrodite sent you to my sons, Biote continued, wherefore we must believe you under her protection. But you have not forgotten how your father’s face darkened when I asked him if I might take you in my charge? He was afraid to allow his daughters out of his sight, having in mind the losses we have suffered in the Euripos, the money we have spent on the temple, and of all, the fortunes that may have passed from us in the Ægean. Plainly he was thinking of these things when he parted from you, and would have detained you had he dared, but shame deterred him, and I gained thereby the first point in the game at which we are playing. Game at which we are playing? the girls repeated. Yes, we are playing a game and a deep one, deeplier than any we have played in our lives before, or perhaps will ever play again. Speak, then, Biote, cried Earine. {Aphrodite Book}
My words, it seems, come as fast as I can speak them. We must outwit your father, girls. He will strive to keep you at home, and if he have his way you will see your lovers for the last time before they depart, for depart they must, we being ruined — if not ruined, much poorer than we were a few days ago. Father is not so cruel as to separate us from the lovers a God hath sent us! cried Melissa. Your father knows only of Gods when they fortune him, and he will say: Young youths, go away and earn much gold and silver and laurel leaves, and you shall have my daughters. But the earning of large sums of money and an acknowledgment as chief among the sculptors and architects of Greece will take many years. When they return, said Earine, they will find true hearts. Seven years change all things, Biote replied, the face of the earth as well as a man’s heart. Our hearts are not different from men’s hearts, the girls protested. Man’s life and woman’s life are moulded by time, said Biote. We scatter seed over the tilth and the seed springs up and is harvested and another crop begins. Girls, I would have you consider well the importance of the moment we are now in: whether I can get you away with your lovers. Get us away against our father’s will? Earine asked, when we would wander with Rhesos and Thrasillos and play at love under the forest boughs, hearing of their success at intervals when they come to tell us of their statues and temples? We must lose a great deal, Biote replied, to gain a little. Such is the law of life, and I knew it when on my return from Euboea with Kebren before you were born, I said: — No, Kebren, if thou leavest me now to preach the worship of Helen thou leavest me for ever. For these words I seemed but a selfish woman, but he learned afterwards that I spoke wisely, and now I tell you that it hath come to you to choose to follow your lovers or to lose them for ever. Thou, Melissa, wilt not do wrong to Thrasillos if thou choosest to wait for him, but thou, Earine, should thy say be: I love my sister better than my lover, thou’lt abandon thy lover to other women; other shapes than mine will inspire his Goddesses and thy hope of immortality be lost. My shapes alone inspire him, so he hath told me, said Earine, and Melissa will not ask me to rob Greece of one of her greatest sculptors. We shall escape together from Euboea, said Melissa. But how shall we escape? Earine asked. I will tell thee, replied Biote. Aphrodite inspired thee to sing of her messengers, and the slave that will take to you to-morrow the presents you have chosen will bring back in his basket a pair of doves. These I shall send forth again with tidings of the next ship sailing and of the boat that will await you hidden among the reeds of the Lelantus. But should the night we leave home be moonless? asked Earine. The stars will lead us to the water’s edge should the moon fail us, Melissa answered. Brave Melissa! said Biote. But speak not of my project to anybody, nor whisper it even to each other, lest whispering should draw attention to you. If careless tears should rise to your eyes or sighs come to your lips, feign to have forgotten my sons, and by feigning get them for husbands. May we tell mother? Mellisa asked. She is on our side. A better ally is silence, Biote answered. Rhesos and Thrasillos must be warned, she continued, lest they should trangress my rule of conduct. And thy husband, Biote? Kebren’s mind is given over to his business, wherefore I would not embarrass him with the secret.
CHAPTER XIX
THE JASON WILL make a quick voyage to Cnidus, Kebren said. I am glad, replied Biote; Melissa and Earine are on board. What is this that I hear, Biote? Mnasalcas was averse from his daughters’ marr
iages, she answered, till our sons returned home successful as sculptor and architect, and Leto and I, being of the same mind that delayed marriages often end in no marriages, arranged that they should escape in the Jason, to be married at Cnidus or elsewhere. May I ask, Biote, why I was not consulted? Mnasalcas was not consulted, she replied; we women settled it together — And settled it very well apparently! Kebren interjected. Hast thought of what Mnasalcas will say and do when he hears of his daughters’ flight? Maybe he’ll rage and storm, said Biote, and strike up a scandal in Aulis; but he won’t get his daughters back. And canst think of anything that will prevent this scandal? Yes, Kebren, if thou wert to go to Euboea with the story. I have known Mnasalcas for many years, Biote, but I cannot foresee him in this matter. Tell him, she said, that thou wouldst have gone to him before to warn him if thou hadst knowledge of what Leto and Biote were planning. I will go to Euboea, Kebren replied. And to make sure that he did not delay in his counting-house she accompanied him to the wharf herself calling to Photius, whom she caught sight of lying in wait for passengers.
Wilt row me to the Lelantus? Kebren asked, and Photius replied: — I will, sir, and willingly, my first passenger this morning. And thy last, Photius, for I would have thee abide among the reeds the day long to bring me back to Aulis when my business is finished. That I will do, sir. Thy business is with Mnasalcas? It is, indeed, Kebren answered, and he was about to ask Photius if it was he who had rowed Mnasalcas’s daughters to the Jason earlier in the day; but he restrained the words, saying to himself that it was enough for him to know that he was being rowed up the Lelantus to tell Mnasalcas a story that might end badly for them both. An unruly tongue hath Mnasalcas, and a wise counsel of Biote’s it was to tell me to keep the story back till Leto was by us. Leto will share the blame with Biote, as indeed she should. Marriages being an affair of women rather than of men, I should be left out of it, and will be if I can so manage it. A lovely spring morning, Photius said, concerned by the gloom of Kebren’s face. A spring day or a summer day, which is it? Kebren asked, raising his eyes. But the mountains showing in all their happiest outlines could not cheer him, and he spoke instead of the grass not yet burnt in the plain of the Lelantus, adding: — Mnasalcas’s sheep feed well. At that moment a fish splashed in the river, drawing from Photius the remark: Thou shouldst have brought thy rod and line, sir; the fish are rising. But Kebren could not think of fish, only of Mnasalcas’s anger on hearing of his daughters’ flight from home, and to get the first five minutes over (it would be all settled for better or worse in five minutes), he called to the boatman to push ashore, saying: These are his fields, and the time is shearingtime — clip, clip, clip, the shearer’s foot on the sheep’s necks from daylight to dark. Here is a drachma for thy dinner, Photius. A drachma will buy me three dinners, sir, not at “The Golden Fell” but at a wine-shop. I will be back in an hour, if that will suit thee. I cannot tell how long my business with Mnasalcas will keep me, Kebren replied, one hour or many. But bring thy rod and line with thee; it will help the time away if I be detained.
The clip, clip of the shearers suddenly ceased, and Kebren found the shepherds where he expected he would, under a plane-tree eating their dinners. A welcome tree at the dinner-hour at this time of the year, he said. But Mnasalcas — where is he? At his dinner like ourselves, a voice answered; and if it be finished thou’lt find him counting his fleeces in the yard. Kebren thanked them, and striding up the rising meadow he admired the frisking lambs, stopping to watch a hungry lamb running to the yoe. Dropping on his knees, he said, he butts the udder for it to relinquish its milk more quickly. A lovely spectacle the flock is always, more beautiful in the evening light than in the morning, for then the lambs lie like children beside their mothers. But yonder is Mnasalcas, by Zeus, counting his fleeces just as the shepherds predicted!
.. Counting thy fleeces, Mnasalcas? Working for thee, Kebren, if the storm hath left thee with enough ships to carry them! The storm wrecked but two ships in the Euripos, said Kebren. And those in the Ægean? Mnasalcas asked. The waves that engulfed Aulis were but local, so far as we know, Kebren answered, and Mnasalcas began to banter him about the wisdom of placing Aulis under the protection of Aphrodite rather than of Poseidon. All the Gods cannot be pleased at the same time, said Kebren, and perceiving, perhaps, that he was not receiving his friend with due cordiality, Mnasalcas changed his tone, and assuming a more genial voice and countenance asked him if any reason better than enjoyment of the spring fields in shearing-time had brought him to Euboea. No better reason could have brought thee, he added, and never wert thou more welcome. But Kebren for the moment was out of his humour, and answered: — I have come to tell of a great calamity or benefit which hath befallen thee, Mnasalcas; which it may be I know not, for such things are often decided by a man’s mood. Then confide thyself fully to me, O Kebren; judge me not by some stupid banter, but tell forthright of the calamity or the blessing, whichever it may be, that hath befallen me. What I have to tell concerns thy wife Leto as well as thyself, wherefore I would have her hear the story with thee. Thy gloomy face alarms me, Kebren; but let us go into the house, where we shall find Leto.
I have come, Leto, to tell thy husband what thou hast delayed to tell him, said Kebren. Of his daughters, Leto asked, who left the house at daybreak? By Zeus and all the Gods on Olympus, cried Mnasalcas, I understand thee not at all! Thy easy manners, and such news as this upon thy lips! If any evil hath befallen my girls keep it not from me, for suspense is worse than the thing itself. If drowned they be in the Euripos — Drowned they certainly are not, Leto interjected, but happier maybe than ever they were before in their lives. But the day is hot, and walking up the hillside hath brought a sweat upon thy brow, Kebren. Let me pour out wine for thee. Wine is always welcome, but thou quickenest my thirst for the story, said Mnasalcas. Sit, Leto, and tell it to me; or wilt thou tell it thyself, Kebren, since thou hast come hither for the purpose? I will tell it, Kebren answered, for I know it more fully than thy wife can know it. Thy daughters are on board the Jason with my sons. Mnasalcas stared blankly, and then repeated: On board the Jason with thy sons! Nothing of this have I heard. And nothing did I hear of it, Kebren replied, until this morning. Biote... Biote’s name could not be kept out of the story, and he dreaded that some words might be spoken that would prejudice a happy issue of it. And there might have been evil blows between the men if Leto, to avert them, had not said: Biote’s charge is her sons and my charge is my daughters, and it is not thy genius, Mnasalcas, in the management of sheep and the selling of wool that would have gotten them husbands, not in Euboea. Never didst thou speak of taking them to Athens where young men are about, nor to Corinth where all the world meets, nor to Thebes, nor anywhere, not even Aulis itself; and had it not been for me thou wouldst have seen them with pale faces and tears on their cheeks, crying that nothing happened in Euboea and that they might as well be shepherdesses, for then they would be satisfied with simple shepherds and the music of sheep bells — and thou wouldst not have had that, Mnasalcas, for thou art vain of the daughters I gave thee. It seemed to Kebren that the moment had arrived for him to help Leto, who had come to his help, and he reminded Mnasalcas that Rhesos and Thrasillos were young men of whom any girls might be proud. Young men with great careers before them, he was saying, when Leto jumped in abruptly, as was her way: — Mnasalcas, when he heard of the storm and the splitting of ships in the Euripos, began a fuddling talk about postponements of marriages —
Fuddling talk, wife — what sayest thou? I was not drunk at the time! And reaching out his hand he filled his tankard again. No more shalt thou drink, cried Leto, till the talk be over. Thou hearest her, Kebren! A man may not drink in his own house without her leave! But now to the talk. Spit it out, lass; what said I in my fuddling talk? That many ships were split, Leto answered, and many more might be split in the Ægean, and that until matters were settled in Aulis thou wouldst as lief the marriages were postponed; to which I said that I knew what a lustin
g girl was —— Having been one thyself, Leto, and mayhap my daughters take after thee! For good or for evil they do, Leto replied, and having no mind to find them weeping at midday on their beds, saying they wished they were dead, I arranged with Biote that they should go away with Rhesos and Thrasillos. They will be married at Cnidus before the week is out, she added.
Hast forgotten, cried Mnasalcas, that Melissa and Earine are my daughters? But not thine like thy sheep, Leto answered. Look after thy sheep and I’ll look after my daughters; a fair division of a family this is, and one that the Gods approve. The Gods! Mnasalcas growled. Yes, we are talking of the Gods, Mnasalcas, and of the thread that our lives have been tied up with ever since Kebren was bidden by a God to come to Aulis. I know that, wife; but my daughters are on board the Jason with two young men — They are indeed, and lucky to be with two such young men, the envied of Aulis, and a few years hence, perhaps, the envied of all Greece. And all this being the work of the Gods, Mnasalcas, thou wouldst come at the last to thrust thyself between the Gods and their design — and to thy great loss, perchance. Mnasalcas raised his eyes and looked at Leto. Aphrodite, she continued, is the daughter of Zeus, and Zeus may send a plague upon thy cattle and thy sheep and thy mares with mule foals running beside them, and this house he can destroy with a single thunderbolt. Happily thy daughters are now in mid-Ægean and out of harm’s way; unless perchance thou wouldst hire a ship and go after them! She poured out some more wine, and after drinking it Mnasalcas said: — It is true that when we look back upon our lives there doth seem to be a thread running through them. I apprehend and comprehend all the threads of destiny better than thou thinkest for, Leto. But thou’rt sure that they’ll be married as we were? Rhesos hath found a pattern for his Goddesses in Earine, she answered, and his love of her will do the rest. And Melissa? Mnasalcas asked. She will wed Thrasillos, the architect. Art satisfied now with what I have done for thee and for our daughters? I will give my vote to thee, Leto, when I have heard how all this scheming was planned. On the day that Otanes was burnt? Not on that day, Leto answered; our doves came hither from Aulis with letters. Now thou hast the whole story, and the evening will be well spent in writing a letter to thy daughters saying thou approvest of their marriages. Yes, Mnasalcas replied, Kebren and I will write the letter. I’ll tell him what I have to say and he will put words upon it; and now we’ll drink to the healths — No, Mnasalcas; no more wine for thee till the dinner-hour! The whims of wives, Mnasalcas began — Talk not of whims, cried Leto. I have done better for thy daughters than thou Couldst ever have done!
