Quite unexpectedly Pandion discovered realistic images of people and animals in the works of art brought from distant Aigyptos.
The people of Cnossus, Tylissos and Aelira, who showed Pandion these things, told him that many more of them were still to be found in the vicinity of Phaestos, where the descendants of the Sea People still lived. Despite warnings of the danger involved, Pandion decided to penetrate the ring of mountains on the southern coast of Crete.
In a few more days he would have seen everything there was to see and would sail back home to Thessa. Pandion was now certain of his own ability. Much as he would have liked to learn from the craftsmen of Aigyptos his love for his own country and for Thessa was stronger, and the oath he had sworn to the girl held him tightly bound.
How wonderful it would be to sail home with the last ship in autumn, to look into the bright, blue eyes of his beloved, to see the reticent joy of Agenor, the teacher who had replaced his father and grandfather.
Pandion screwed up his eyes and gazed out at the boundless expanse of the sea. No, it was not for him; there, ahead of him, lay distant strange lands, Aigyptos, but his own native land was behind him, beyond the mountain ridge. And he was still moving onwards, away from his own country. He had to see the ancient temples of Phaestos of which he had heard so much in the coastal towns. With a sigh he increased his pace until he was almost running. A spur led down from the mountain in broad terraces covered with boulders like tufts of grass, with dark patches of bush between them. Amongst the trees at the foot of the slope he could see the indistinct outlines of the ruins of a huge building, walls half collapsed, the remains of arches and gates still standing in their framework of black and white columns. Silence reigned in the ruins and the curves of the broken walls stretched out towards Pandion like giant hands ready to seize their victim. The surfaces of the walls were furrowed with fresh cracks, the aftermath of a recent earthquake.
The young sculptor trod quietly amongst the ruins, trying not to disturb the silence there, peering into dark corners beneath columns that still stood in their places. Pandion turned a projecting corner and found himself in a rectangular, roofless hall the walls of which were covered with the well-known brightly-coloured frescoes. As ha looked at the black and brown figures that followed each other in quick succession, figures of men carrying shields, swords and bows amongst strange animals and ships, Pandion remembered the tales of his grandfather and realized that before him was a picture of a band of soldiers on a raid into the land of the blacks, situated, according to ancient legend, on the very borders of Oicumene.
Pandion was astounded at this evidence of the tremendous journeys made by the ancients and gazed long at the frescoes until, turning away from them at last, he saw a marble cube standing in the middle of the hall. The cube was ornamented with blue rosettes and whorls of glass and at its base lay heaps of freshly picked flowers.
Somebody had been there! There must be people living amongst those ruins! With bated breath ‘the youth made his way to the exit, a portico overgrown with grass.
The portico, consisting of two square white and two round red columns, stood on the edge of a low cliff that rose just above the dense foliage of the trees. A dusty, well-trodden path led down the cliffside. Descending into the valley, Pandion came to a smooth, metalled road. He made his way eastwards, striving to step silently on the hot stones. The wide leaves of the plane-trees on the right-hand side of the road, scarcely stirring in the hot air, cast a line of shadow. Pandion sighed with relief as he sought refuge from the blazing sun. He had long wanted to drink but in his own country, where water was scarce, he had been taught abstinence. After walking along for some two stadia he saw a long low building at the foot of a hill where the road turned to the north. A number of small rooms, like a row of similar boxes, were open on the side that faced the road and were quite empty. Pandion recognized the building as an old travellers’ rest-house; he had seen many of them in the northern part of the island and hurried into the main entrance, brightly painted and divided into two by a single column. The faint murmur of running water called to the youth, exhausted as he was by the heat and the long journey. Pandion entered the bathhouse where the water ran from a spring, the ground around which was paved with heavy slabs of stone, poured through a wide pipe and then through the rims of three successive basins into a big funnel built into the wall.
Pandion threw off his clothes and sandals, washed himself in the pure cold water, drank his fill and lay down on a stone bench to rest. The, babbling of the running water, the gentle whispering of the leaves had a soothing effect on him and eyes inflamed from the sun and wind in the mountain passes refused to keep open — Pandion slept.
He did — not sleep long; when he awoke the shadow from the column, intersecting the sunlit floor, had scarcely changed its position. He jumped up and hurriedly donned his simple clothing. He felt fresh and rested. He ate some dried cheese, took another drink and made for the doorway; there he came to a sudden halt — from the distance came the sound of voices. He went out on to the road to look round. There could be no doubt about it, from the dense growth of bushes to one side of the road came laughter, snatches of an unknown language and the sounds of stringed instruments.
Pandion’s sensations were mingled joy and fear, his muscles tensed and he involuntarily grasped the hilt of his father’s sword. With a few whispered words of prayer to his patron and ancestor Hyperion, the youth plunged into the thicket, making straight for the voices. It was stifling in the thicket and the strong scents made it difficult for him to breathe.
With the greatest care he made his way round tall bushes with long thorns, slipped between the trunks of the strawberry-trees with their thin, smooth, light grey bark and found his way barred by a grove of myrtles that stood before him in a solid wall.
Bunches of white flowers hung ‘down from the dense foliage. For a second Pandion thought of Thessa — in his country the myrtle-tree was sacred to youthful virginity. The voices now sounded quite close to him — the people were talking in hushed voices for some reason or another and Pandion realized that he had misjudged the distance. The decisive moment had come. Bending low, Pandion dived under the nether branches, carefully pushing them aside with his hands; on a glade covered with young grass an unusual sight met his eyes.
In the centre of the glade lay a snow-white bull with long horns. Little black patches were sprinkled on the beast’s well-groomed flanks and face.
Some distance away in the shade stood a group of youths, girls and elderly people. A tall, straight-backed man with a wavy beard and a gold band on his head, wearing a short tunic encircled by a bronze belt, stepped forward and made a sign. A young girl dressed in a long, heavy mantle immediately left the group. She raised both arms above her head; the movement caused the mantle to fall to the ground, leaving her standing in a loincloth held in place by a wide white belt ornamented with a fluffy black cord. Her blue-black hair hung loose about her shoulders and on both arms she wore narrow gold bangles above the elbow.
With light, rapid steps, almost dancing, she approached the bull, then stopped suddenly and emitted a guttural cry. The bull’s sleepy eyes opened wide and flashed fire, he bent his forelegs under him and began to raise his heavy head. Like an arrow the girl darted forward and pressed herself against the bull. For a second or two the girl and the bull were motionless. A cold shiver ran down Pandion’s back.
The bull straightened his forelegs while his hind-legs still lay on the ground, and lifted his head high. The beast formed a sort of heavy pyramid of menacing muscle. The girl’s swarthy body, pressed close to the steep slope of the animal’s back, formed a sharp contrast to its white skin. With one hand she clung to a horn and the other arm encircled the bull’s tremendous neck. One of the girl’s strong legs was stretched along the back of the monster and the upper part of her body was sprung forward like a drawn bow.
The contrast between the lines of the bull, beautiful but monstrous in their stre
ngth and weight, and the graceful human body held Pandion spellbound.
For the fraction of a second he saw the austere face of the girl with its tightly pressed lips. With a dull roar the bull rose to its feet and leaped with a facility astonishing in such a tremendous body. The girl was thrown into the air, pressed her hands into the bull’s mighty withers, threw her legs up and turned a somersault between the high horns. She landed on her feet some three paces from the bull’s head. Stretching out her arms the gir-1 clapped her hands and again emitted a short, sharp cry. The infuriated bull lowered its horns and rushed at her. Pandion was horrified: it seemed that that beautiful and courageous girl must certainly be killed. Throwing all caution to the winds the youth seized his sword and was about to dash on to the glade when the girl, with amazing agility, again sprang towards the bull, escaped the lowered, death-dealing horns, and was once more on the bull’s back. In its fury the beast raced round the glade tearing up the earth with its hoofs and roaring threateningly. The young bullfighter sat calmly on the enraged animal’s back, her knees pressed tightly into its wide flanks, now working like bellows from the animal’s rapid breathing. The bull flew towards the group of people who greeted it with cries of joy. There was a loud handclap as the girl somersaulted backwards and landed on the ground behind the bull. Breathing rapidly in joyous excitement she rejoined the crowd of onlookers.
The bull made a straight run to the edge of the glade, then turned and raced towards the people. Five of them immediately stepped forward, three youths and two girls, and the game began again with even greater speed. The gasping bull turned towards the young people who were calling him on with cries and handclapping and they jumped over him, sprang on to his back, pressed close against his sides for a moment, avoiding the terrible horns with great agility. One of the girls managed to sit directly on the bull’s neck, immediately in front of the hump of his withers. The bull’s eyes popped out of their sockets and foam came from his mouth. With his head lowered, his muzzle almost touching the ground, the bull did his utmost to throw the fearless girl from his back. She leaned backwards, her two hands grasping the withers behind her back and her feet propped firmly against the base of the animal’s ears. She kept her position for a few seconds and then sprang lightly to the ground.
The youths and girls spread out in a single line some distance from each other and played leap-frog over the animal’s back in succession. The game went on for a long time — the bull dashed back and forth with awe-inspiring roars, threatening death, but the gracefully lithesome human figures darted unharmed around him.
The bull’s roar turned to a hoarse groan, his skin became dark with sweat and foam flew from his mouth together with his irregular breath. A few moments more and the bull came to a standstill, lowered his huge head and glared from side to side. The air was filled with the joyous cries of the onlookers. The man with the gold band on his head gave a sign and the youthful participants in the games left the animal in peace. People who had been standing and sitting on the grass drew together, and before Pandion realized what was happening they had disappeared into the bushes.
The bull remained alone on the deserted glade with nothing to show for the recent combat but its stertorous breathing and the trampled grass.
Only then did the excited Pandion realize his great good fortune. He had been a witness of the ancient bull games that, hundreds of years before his time, had been so common on Crete, in Mycenae and other ancient Greek cities.
Agile, enterprising man had conquered in a bloodless battle with a bull, an animal sacred to the peoples of antiquity as the incarnation of martial power, of overpowering, menacing strength. The lightning speed of the animal was counteracted by still greater speed, while precision of movement was the only guarantee of safety for the players. Pandion had been trained in feats of strength and agility since childhood and, therefore, could well imagine what degree of training was required to develop the human body for participation in such dangerous amusements.
He did not risk following the players and returned to the road. He decided that it would be better to seek hospitality from these people in their own homes.
For a distance of several stadia the road continued dead straight and then turned suddenly southwards, to the sea, and the trees along the verge gave way to dusty bushes. By the time Pandion reached the bend in the road his shadow had noticeably lengthened. He heard rustling noises in the bushes and stopped to listen. A bird, he could not say what kind, as the sun was in his eyes, flew up and again dived into the bushes. Pandion’s fears were allayed and he continued on his way, paying no further attention to the sounds. From a distance came the soft, melodious cooing of a wild dove. The call was answered by another two birds and then all was silent again. At the moment Pandion turned the bend in the road the cries of the dove were repeated very near him. The youth stood still, trying to get a glimpse of the bird. Suddenly he heard the beating of wings behind him and a pair of wood-pigeons sailed into the air. Pandion turned round and saw three men with heavy cudgels in their hands.
With deafening cries the three newcomers threw themselves on Pandion. In a second he had unsheathed his sword but received a blow on the head. Everything went dark, and he staggered from the weight of other men jumping on ‘him — another four men had appeared from the bushes behind him. Pandion was almost unconscious, but realized that he was lost. He defended himself desperately, but a blow on his arm caused him to drop his sword. The youth fell on his knees and threw the man who clung to him over his head; a second man fell from a blow of his fist while a third flew away with a groan from a kick of Pandion’s foot.
The attackers, apparently, had no intention of killing the stranger. They dropped their cudgels and again fell on Pandion. Under the weight of five bodies he fell face down in the dust that filled his mouth and nose and irritated his eyes. Panting from the strain Pandion rose on to all fours in an effort to throw off the attackers. They threw themselves under his feet and pressed his neck downwards. Again the bodies writhed in a heap on the ground raising clouds of dust that turned red in the sun’s rays. The attackers realized the unusual strength and endurance of the youth and ceased their shouts — the silence of the deserted road was broken only by the sounds of the struggle, the groans and hoarse breathing of the combatants. Their bodies were covered with dust, their clothing dirty and torn to shreds, but still the struggle went on.
Several times Pandion threw off his assailants and struggled to his feet, but again they fell on him, grasping him by the legs. Suddenly cries of victory rent the air: reinforcements had arrived and another four men joined the struggle. The youth’s arms and legs were bound with strong thongs. More dead than alive from exhaustion and despair, Pandion closed his eyes. His conquerors, speaking in lively tones in an unknown language, lay down in the shade beside him to rest after the strenuous struggle.
When they were rested they made signs to the youth to go with them. Pandion realized the uselessness of further resistance; he decided to reserve his strength for a more, opportune moment and nodded. They unbound his legs and Pandion, surrounded by his enemies, staggered along the road. Soon they came to a group of wretched houses built of undressed stone. The people came out of the houses to meet them — an old man with a bronze band on his head, some women and children. The old man went up to Pandion, looked him over approvingly, felt his muscles and said something to Pandion’s captors in merry tones. The youth was taken to a small house.
The door opened with a piercing shriek — inside there was a small furnace, an anvil with tools thrown down around it and a heap of charcoal. Two large, light wheels hung from the walls. An evil-looking old man of small stature, but with long arms, ordered one of Pandion’s escort to blow up the furnace while he took a metal hoop from a nail in the wall and went over to the captive. The smith struck Pandion roughly under the chin and began measuring the hoop for his neck; he muttered something in dissatisfaction and then went to the far corner of the smithy and with a lou
d rattle dragged out a metal chain; he put the end link of the chain in the fire — and set about bending the bronze hoop on the anvil, adjusting it to the required size by frequent blows of his hammer.
Only then did the youth realize the full extent of the disaster that had overtaken him. Images of all that was dear to him flashed through his mind one after another. Thessa was waiting there on his native shore, she believed in him, in his love and in his return. In a moment they would fasten the bronze slave’s collar on his neck and he would be riveted to a strong chain without any hope of early deliverance. He had counted the last days of his stay in Crete… Soon he would be able to set sail for the harbour of Calydon whence his fatal journey had begun.
“O Hyperion, my ancestor, and thou, O Aphrodite, send me death or deliverance,” whispered the youth in a low voice.
The smith calmly and methodically continued his work; he measured the hoop a second time, flattened out the ends, bent them over and made holes in them. He had only to rivet the chain to the collar. The old man grunted a brief order and Pandion was seized and told by signs to lie on the ground beside the anvil. The youth mustered all his strength for the last attempt at escape. Blood spattered from under the thongs that bound his elbows but Pandion forgot all pain when he felt his bonds weakening. In another second they had burst.. With his head he butted the chin of the man who was trying to make him lie down and the man fell to the ground. The youth knocked down two more of them and dashed off along the road. With howls of fury his enemies gave chase. The cries of the pursuers brought more men armed with spears, knives and swords; the number of the pursuers continued to grow.
The Land of Foam Page 5
