A Victor of Salamis, Page 2

  CHAPTER I

  GLAUCON THE BEAUTIFUL

  The crier paused for the fifth time. The crowd--knotty Spartans, keenAthenians, perfumed Sicilians--pressed his pulpit closer, elbowing for theplace of vantage. Amid a lull in their clamour the crier recommenced.

  "And now, men of Hellas, another time hearken. The sixth contestant in thepentathlon, most honourable of the games held at the Isthmus, is Glaucon,son of Conon the Athenian; his grandfather--" a jangling shout drowned him.

  "The most beautiful man in Hellas!" "But an effeminate puppy!" "Of thenoble house of Alcmaeon!" "The family's accursed!" "A great god helpshim--even Eros." "Ay--the fool married for mere love. He needs help. Hisfather disinherited him."

  "Peace, peace," urged the crier; "I'll tell all about him, as I have ofthe others. Know then, my masters, that he loved, and won in marriage,Hermione, daughter of Hermippus of Eleusis. Now Hermippus is Conon'smortal enemy; therefore in great wrath Conon disinherited his son,--butnow, consenting to forgive him if he wins the parsley crown in thepentathlon--"

  "A safe promise," interrupted a Spartan in broadest Doric; "the pretty boyhas no chance against Lycon, our Laconian giant."

  "Boaster!" retorted an Athenian. "Did not Glaucon bend open a horseshoeyesterday?"

  "Our Moerocles did that," called a Mantinean; whereupon the crier,foregoing his long speech on Glaucon's noble ancestry, began to urge theAthenians to show their confidence by their wagers.

  "How much is staked that Glaucon can beat Ctesias of Epidaurus?"

  "We don't match our lion against mice!" roared the noisiest Athenian.

  "Or Amyntas of Thebes?"

  "Not Amyntas! Give us Lycon of Sparta."

  "Lycon let it be,--how much is staked and by whom, that Glaucon of Athens,contending for the first time in the great games, defeats Lycon of Sparta,twice victor at Nemea, once at Delphi, and once at Olympia?"

  The second rush and outcry put the crier nearly at his wits' end to recordthe wagers that pelted him, and which testified how much confidence thenumerous Athenians had in their unproved champion. The brawl of voicesdrew newcomers from far and near. The chariot race had just ended in theadjoining hippodrome; and the idle crowd, intent on a new excitement, camesurging up like waves. In such a whirlpool of tossing arms and shovingelbows, he who was small of stature and short of breath stood a scantychance of getting close enough to the crier's stand to have his wagerrecorded. Such, at least, was the fate of a gray but dignified little man,who struggled vainly--even with risk to his long linen chiton--to reach thefront.

  "Ugh! ugh! Make way, good people,--Zeus confound you, brute of a Spartan,your big sandals crush my toes again! Can I never get near enough to placemy two minae on that Glaucon?"

  "Keep back, graybeard," snapped the Spartan; "thank the god if you canhold your money and not lose it, when Glaucon's neck is wrung to-morrow."Whereupon he lifted his own voice with, "Thirty drachmae to place on Lycon,Master Crier! So you have it--"

  "And two minae on Glaucon," piped the little man, peering up with bright,beady eyes; but the crier would never have heard him, save for a suddenally.

  "Who wants to stake on Glaucon?" burst in a hearty young Athenian who hadwagered already. "You, worthy sir? Then by Athena's owls they shall hearyou! Lend us your elbow, Democrates."

  The latter request was to a second young Athenian close by. With hisstalwart helpers thrusting at either side, the little man was soon closeto the crier.

  "Two minae?" quoth the latter, leaning, "two that Glaucon beats Lycon, andat even odds? But your name, sir--"

  The little man straightened proudly.

  "Simonides of Ceos."

  The crowd drew back by magic. The most bristling Spartan grew respectful.The crier bowed as his ready stylus made the entry.

  "Simonides of Ceos, Simonides the most noted poet in Hellas!" cried thefirst of his two rescuers; "it's a great honour to have served so famous aman. Pray let me take your hand."

  "With all the joy in the world." The little poet coloured with delight atthe flattery. "You have saved me, I avow, from the forge and anvil ofHephaestus. What a vulgar mob! Do stand apart; then I can try to thankyou."

  Aided again by his two protectors, Simonides was soon clear of thewhirlpool. Under one of the graceful pines, which girded the long stadium,he recovered breath and looked at leisure upon his new acquaintances. Bothwere striking men, but in sharp contrast: the taller and darker showed anaquiline visage betraying a strain of non-Grecian blood. His black eyesand large mouth were very merry. He wore his green chiton with arakishness that proved him anything but a dandy. His companion, addressedas Democrates, slighter, blonder, showed Simonides a handsome and trulyGreek profile, set off by a neatly trimmed reddish beard. His purple-edgedcloak fell in statuesque folds of the latest mode, his beryl signet-ring,scarlet fillet, and jewelled girdle bespoke wealth and taste. His face,too, might have seemed frank and affable, had not Simonides suddenlyrecalled an old proverb about mistrusting a man with eyes too closetogether.

  "And now," said the little poet, quite as ready to pay compliments as totake them, "let me thank my noble deliverers, for I am sure two suchvalorous young men as you must come of the best blood of Attica."

  "I am not ashamed of my father, sir," spoke the taller Athenian; "Hellashas not yet forgotten Miltiades, the victor of Marathon."

  "Then I clasp the hand of Cimon, the son of the saviour of Hellas." Thelittle poet's eyes danced. "Oh! the pity I was in Thessaly so long, andlet you grow up in my absence. A noble son of a noble father! And yourfriend--did you name him Democrates?"

  "I did so."

  "Fortunate old rascal I am! For I meet Cimon the son of Miltiades, andDemocrates, that young lieutenant of Themistocles who all the world knowsis gaining fame already as Nestor and Odysseus, both in one, among theorators of Athens."

  "Your compliments exceed all truth," exclaimed the second Athenian, not atall angered by the praise. But Simonides, whose tongue was brisk, ran onwith a torrent of flattery and of polite insinuation, until Cimon haltedhim, with a query.

  "Yet why, dear Cean, since, as you say, you only arrived this afternoon atthe Isthmus, were you so anxious to stake that money on Glaucon?"

  "Why? Because I, like all Greece outside of Sparta, seem to be turningGlaucon-mad. All the way from Thessaly--in Boeotia, in Attica, in Megara--mentalked of him, his beauty, his prowess, his quarrel with his father, hismarriage with Hermione, the divinest maiden in Athens, and how he has goneto the games to win both the crown and crusty Conon's forgiveness. I tellyou, every mule-driver along the way seemed to have staked his obol onhim. They praise him as 'fair as Delian Apollo,' 'graceful as youngHermes,' and--here I wonder most,--'modest as an unwedded girl.' " Simonidesdrew breath, then faced the others earnestly, "You are Athenians; do youknow him?"

  "Know him?" Cimon laughed heartily; "have we not left him at the wrestlingground? Was not Democrates his schoolfellow once, his second self to-day?And touching his beauty, his valour, his modesty," the young man's eyesshone with loyal enthusiasm, "do not say 'over-praised' till you have seenhim."

  Simonides swelled with delight.

  "Oh, lucky genius that cast me with you! Take me to him this moment."

  "He is so beset with admirers, his trainers are angry already; besides, heis still at the wrestling ground."

  "But soon returns to his tents," added Democrates, instantly; "andSimonides--is Simonides. If Themistocles and Leonidas can see Glaucon, somust the first poet of Hellas."

  "O dearest orator," cried the little man, with an arm around his neck, "Ibegin to love you already. Away this moment, that I may worship your newdivinity."

  "Come, then," commanded Cimon, leading off with strides so long the bardcould hardly follow; "his tent is not distant: you shall see him, thoughthe trainers change to Gorgons."

  The "Precinct of Poseidon," the great walled enclosure where were thetemples, porticos, and the stadium of the
Isthmus, was quickly behindthem. They walked eastward along the sea-shore. The scene about was briskenough, had they heeded. A dozen chariots passed. Under every tall pinealong the way stood merchants' booths, each with a goodly crowd. Now aherd of brown goats came, the offering of a pious Phocian; now a band ofAphrodite's priestesses from Corinth whirled by in no overdecorous dance,to a deafening noise of citharas and castanets. A soft breeze was sendingthe brown-sailed fisher boats across the heaving bay. Straight before thethree spread the white stuccoed houses of Cenchraea, the eastern haven ofCorinth; far ahead in smooth semicircle rose the green crests of theArgive mountains, while to their right upreared the steep lonely pyramidof brown rock, Acro-Corinthus, the commanding citadel of the thrivingcity. But above, beyond these, fairer than them all, spread the clear,sun-shot azure of Hellas, the like whereof is not over any other land,save as that land is girt by the crisp foam of the blue AEgean Sea.

  So much for the picture, but Simonides, having seen it often, saw it notat all, but plied the others with questions.

  "So this Hermione of his is beautiful?"

  "Like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam." The answer came fromDemocrates, who seemed to look away, avoiding the poet's keen glance.

  "And yet her father gave her to the son of his bitter enemy?"

  "Hermippus of Eleusis is sensible. It is a fine thing to have thehandsomest man in Hellas for son-in-law."

  "And now to the great marvel--did Glaucon truly seek her not for dowry, norrank, but for sheer love?"

  "Marriages for love are in fashion to-day," said Democrates, with a sideglance at Cimon, whose sister Elpinice had just made a love match withCallias the Rich, to the scandal of all the prudes in Athens.

  "Then I meet marvels even in my old age. Another Odysseus and hisPenelope! And he is handsome, valiant, high-minded, with a wife his peer?You raise my hopes too high. They will be dashed."

  "They will not," protested Democrates, with every sign of loyalty; "turnhere: this lane in the pines leads to his tent. If we have praised toomuch, doom us to the labours of Tantalus."

  But here their progress was stopped. A great knot of people were swarmingabout a statue under a pine tree, and shrill, angry voices proclaimed nottrafficking, but a brawl.