CHAPTER IV
GREEK AND CELTIBERIAN.
Actaeon told no one of his meeting. Moreover, after a few days he hadalmost forgotten it. Seeing the city tranquil, busy in preparation forthe great Panathenaic festival, trusting in its protecting alliance withRome, the recollection of the interview with the African assumed thevagueness of a dream.
Perhaps Hannibal's words were only the arrogant boasts of youth. Hatedby the rich of his country, and with no better followers than those hehimself could procure, he was surely not going to attempt the audaciousenterprise of attacking a city allied to Rome, thus violating thetreaties with Carthage.
Besides, the Greek was living in a period of sweet intoxications; everin Sonnica's arms in the shade of the peristyle; listening to the lyresof the slaves and the flutes of the flute players, and watching thedancers from Gades, while his beloved crowned him with flowers, orsprinkled costly perfumes upon him.
Sometimes the restless spirit of the wanderer and man of war, trained toaction and strife, manifested itself in the midst of this effeminacy.Then he would flee to the city. There he conversed with Mopsus, thearcher, and listened to the grumblers in the Forum, who, not suspectingthat Hannibal had passed through Saguntum, jested at the possibility ofthe African chief attempting anything against them, and gloated in theirpower, trusting in the strength of their walls, and still more in theprotection of Rome, which would repeat on the coasts of Iberia theirtriumphs over the Carthaginians in Sicily.
Actaeon contracted a great friendship with Alorcus the Celtiberian. Headmired the fiery pride of the barbarian, his nobility of sentiment, andthe almost religious respect he displayed for the cultured Grecianwoman. His father, now old and sick, was a petty king reigning over sometribes which pastured great flocks of horses and cattle in the mountainsof Celtiberia. He was the sole heir, and some day would be obliged torule that rude people with their ferocious customs, who, in perpetualbrigandage, made war for the sake of stealing horses, and in years offamine came down from the mountains to despoil the farmers on theplains. His father had brought him to Saguntum when a child, and theGrecian customs produced such an effect in him that, when he had grownto manhood it became his most earnest desire to return to the city onthe coast, and there he lived with a few servants of his tribe and hismagnificent horses, deaf to the affectionate calls of the old chieftaindrawing near to death, and being esteemed by the Saguntines as almost afellow citizen.
He was eager to figure in the festival of the Panathenaea that the Greeksof the city should admire him galloping in the races to conquer thecrown of olives. He was grateful to Actaeon for using his influence withSonnica to secure the consent of the magistrates that the Celtiberianmight enter among the horsemen in the great procession that would climbto the Acropolis carrying the first sheaves of wheat to the temple ofMinerva.
In those days when the Athenian languished amidst songs and perfumes,overwhelmed by the caresses of the Greek woman, who seemed to blaze withthe fire of the last passion of her life, he sprang from his couch atdawn, slung his bow across his back, and followed by two handsome dogstramped through the Saguntine domain, giving chase to the wildcats whichcame down from the surrounding mountains.
On one of these excursions he had an adventure. It was noon; the sun'swarm light fell upon the land, and the panting dogs halted, barking at agrove of ancient fig trees with branches sweeping the ground, formingshady canopies of dense foliage. Actaeon, quieting the animals,approached cautiously with bow ready to draw, and as he parted thecurtain of leaves he saw in the centre of an open space enclosed by thetrees his two friends Rhanto and Erotion.
The boy was seated on the ground before a pile of red clay which he wascarefully modeling, wrinkling his brow, and whistling intently. Theshepherdess, completely nude, with the assurance of healthy and innocentbeauty, happy in being admired, was smiling at Erotion, her cheeksflushing lightly every time the artist raised his eyes from the clay tothe model.
Actaeon drank in with his eyes the form of her vernal body. He felt theenthusiasm of the Greeks in the presence of beauty, intensified by theardor of manhood. He admired her bosom, tender and small as buds, barelyperceptible; her lightly curving hips; the line from her throat to herfeet soft and undulating, which served to give more elegance to herchaste appearance; the grace of strong and beautiful girlhood, inaddition to the attraction of sex. With the taste of a Greek ofrefinement he rejoiced in the freshness of her form, comparing itmentally with Sonnica's opulent but somewhat over-ripe charms.
Rhanto, as she saw the Greek's head appear between the leaves, uttered apiercing scream and scurried behind a fig tree in search of her clothes.Bells tinkled among the foliage and the goats thrust forward theirglossy muzzles, their moist eyes, and curving horns.
"Is it you, Athenian?" said Erotion, arising with a gesture of illhumor. "You have frightened Rhanto by your unexpected presence."
Then he added maliciously, "Rhanto is your slave. I am well aware ofthat. And I also know that you are the master of the pottery where Iwork. You have risen much since that morning when we met you on thehighway of the Serpent. You have dominion over Sonnica the rich. Lovehas made her your slave."
"I am not master of anyone," said the Greek simply. "I am your friend,and I do not forget that the first bread I ate in this city I receivedfrom your hands."
Erotion seemed to gain confidence at these words.
"What are you looking at, Athenian? That clay? How you must laugh at me!I am convinced that I am worthless as an artist. Yet there are momentswhen I feel myself capable of a great work; I conceive it; I see it inmy mind as clearly as if I had it erected before me; but when I put myhands to the clay I realize my lack of skill, and I am ready to weep.Ah! if only I could have gone to Greece!"
His words sounded like a lament; he stared angrily at the pile of claywhich had crudely begun to assume the outlines of Rhanto's form.
"If you only knew how I had to urge her before she would consent to showthe divine nudity of her body. Do not think it strange. She comes of arace of barbarians. She fears the club of her grandfather, the chiefshepherd, that would fall upon her body if he should discover her as youdid a few minutes ago. I explained to her about our sculptors, beforewhom the most famous hetaerae contended for the honor of disrobing; andthe certainty that her mistress, Sonnica, had done the same in Athenswas the only thing that decided her. But how can one copy her divinebody? How imbue molded clay with the life which throbs beneath herskin?"
In his despair he threatened the clay figurine as if he would crush itunder his feet. Then he took courage, and said resolutely:
"But I will be stronger than my untrained hands. I will work years andyears if necessary, until I see the divine form of my Rhanto reproducedin all its beauty. I will not return to the pottery, although the oldarcher may kill me with blows. I began my statuette hoping that it mightfigure in the Panathenaic procession. Rhanto would carry it on her head,and the multitude would crowd around to see it. I only hope for a momentof inspiration, a fortunate moment. Who knows if to-morrow the muses maynot breathe upon me, and that I shall arise with the skill in my handsto execute my dream?"
Frankly hurling himself down from the pinnacle of his imagination hetold the Athenian his ambition.
"If I manage to finish this statue the future will be all my own, andsome day my name will be engraved in the Forum, and the people of thecity will read it with admiration. I will free myself from the potteryforever. I will present my statue to Sonnica, after it has been admiredby all Saguntum in the Panathenaea, and your lover, who is so generous,will give me passage in one of her ships. I shall see Athens. I willadmire what you have seen, and then--then! Look, Actaeon, through theseleaves. What do you see on the hill of the Acropolis? Nothing. Walls ofgreat stones, columns, roofs of temples, but not a single statue toproclaim from afar the glory of the city. They say that upon theAcropolis of Athens rises the gigantic figure of Pallas, all of bronzeand gold, with a lance that seems to burn in the sunligh
t, and that itguides the mariners like a flame from many stadia out at sea. Is thattrue? Many, many nights have I dreamt of something like that, and I seeErotion returned from Athens a great artist, and raising a colossal workupon our Acropolis. The bulls of Geryon, enormous, gigantic, with gildedhorns shining like flames, and behind them Hercules, covered with theskin of the Nemean lion, like Theron, his priest, in the great festivalsof Saguntum, and his club, menacing on the height, shall be a signal toall the navigators of the Sucronian gulf. Ah! If only some day I realizethis achievement!"
Rhanto had come out of her hiding-place covered by a tunic, and shetimidly approached Actaeon, looking at him respectfully, and blushing atthe same time at the recollection of the condition in which he hadsurprised her. Erotion, excited by the telling of his hopes, showedeagerness to resume his task. He glanced at his work, and seemed todisrobe the shepherdess with his eyes.
The Athenian understood that his presence disturbed the young people.
"Work, Erotion!" he said. "Be a great artist if you can. The sculptorsof Athens would envy you your model. Now that I know that you hide hereI will not again annoy you with my presence."
And so it was. He left the grove of fig trees permitting the two to workundisturbed in their mysterious retreat, Erotion spurred on by ambition,Rhanto submissive from love.
The day of the Panathenaea came at last.
The fame of the solemn festival had spread beyond the confines ofSaguntum, and the rude Celtiberians assembled by caravans to witness thediversions of the rustic people.
The workers from the domain abandoned the labor of the harvest, and,dressed in their best, began streaming into the city at sunrise toattend the festival of the goddess of the fields. They carried greatsheaves of wheat, interspersed with flowers, to offer to the goddess,and white fleeced lambs adorned with ribbons to sacrifice on her altar.
By sunrise the city was filled with a multicolored crowd which gatheredin the Forum, or hurried along the river banks to see the horse races.
A great stadium had been formed near the Baetis-Perkes in which theprincipal citizens of Saguntum were to contest for the triumph. Thesenators, on long benches, and guarded by a group of mercenaries,presided over the festival. At one end of the race-track the sons of themerchants and rich agriculturists, the entire youth of Saguntum, almostnude, awaited the signal, leaning on their light lances, and holding thebridles of their barebacked horses which snorted and champed the bit,scenting the coming contest.
The signal to start was given, and placing their left feet on thehandles of their lances all sprang simultaneously upon their chargers,dashing forward in a compact squadron along the track. The immense crowdbroke into acclamations at sight of the bizarre riders who leaningforward almost lay on their horses' necks, as if forming a single bodywith them, waving their lances, quickening their gallop with shouts, andwrapped in a cloud of dust through which the multitude could barely makeout the straining legs and the bellies of the animals which were nearlytouching the ground. The wild race lasted long. The less skillfulriders, and those with poorer mounts, were being out-stripped; thesquadron was diminishing visibly. He who should remain longest on thetrack, ever in advance of the others, would win the crown, and thepeople made bets on the Celtiberian Alorcus, and on the Athenian Actaeonwho figured from the first instant at the head of the riders.
The citizens who did not wish to wait in the sun for the end of the racefollowed the river bank until they reached the walls, in the shade ofwhich the youths were wrestling or engaging in boxing matches incompetition for the prize for dexterity. Others of more pacific turnwent to the Forum, where beneath the porticos the young aristocrats werecompeting for the laurel crown offered for the most skilled in music andsong. Seated on ivory chairs, attended by their handsome slave boys whofanned them with branches of myrtle, Lachares and his friends played theflute or thrummed the lyre, singing Greek verses with sweet andeffeminate intonations. In the gathering, some laughed, mimicking thesoftness of their voices, but others, indignant, compelled silence,overcome by the charm which art, even in this womanish guise, exercisedover their uncultured minds.
Late in the morning the clamor from the enthusiastic multitude filledthe broad space of the Forum like reverberating thunder. It was thepeople returning from the races, acclaiming the victor. The arrogantAlorcus, dragged off the back of his horse, was borne on the shouldersof the most enthusiastic. The olive crown encircled his tossed and dustyhair. Actaeon was beside him, celebrating his triumph fraternally,without a touch of envy.
The singers, swept away before this wave of enthusiasm, made off withtheir chairs and instruments. The crown of laurel was bound uponLachares in the midst of general indifference, and he received no othercongratulations than those of his slaves. All the enthusiasm of the citywas lavished upon the winner in the races; the people were inflamed withadmiration for strength and skill.
The solemn moment had come; the _pompa_ was about to begin. In themerchant's ward slaves hung red and green bunting from roof to roofwhich shaded the streets. The windows and terraces were draped withmulticolored tapestries of complicated design, and slave women placedcensers in the doorways for burning perfumes.
The rich Grecian women, followed by their servants who carried sedanchairs, went in search of places where they could sit on the steps ofthe temples or in the shops at the Forum, and the people rangedthemselves along the houses, impatiently awaiting the arrival of theprocession which was forming outside the walls. Flocks of childrencompletely nude ran through the streets waving branches of myrtle,shouting acclamations in honor of the goddess.
Suddenly the people stirred, bursting into cries of enthusiasm. Thepageant in honor of Minerva had entered through the gate of the Road ofthe Serpent and was advancing slowly toward the Forum, through the wardof the merchants, who were the organizers of the festival.
In advance marched venerable old men with long beards, dressed in white,with voluminous mantles, their snowy hair crowned with green leaves, andcarrying olive branches in their hands. Then came the more arrogantcitizens, armed with lance and shield, the visor of the Grecian helmetdrawn down over their eyes, proudly displaying the strong muscles oftheir arms and limbs. Next followed the most beautiful youths of thecity, crowned with flowers, singing hymns in praise of the goddess;choruses of nude children, dancing with unaffected grace, claspinghands, forming a chain of complicated combinations. Now appeared themaidens, daughters of the rich, clad only in a tunic of finest linen,which displayed their youthful charms. They carried in their hands asofferings dainty willow baskets covered by veils which hid theinstruments for the sacrifice to the goddess, and with these the loavesmade of new wheat and the handfuls of golden ears which were to bedeposited on her altar. To clearly mark the dignity of the rich virgins,slave women marched behind them bearing their sedan chairs inlaid withivory, and the striped silk sunshades with gay colored tassels at theends of the staves.
A group of slave women chosen for their beauty, with Rhanto in thepremier rank, carried on their heads great amphorae filled with honey andwater for the libations in honor of the goddess. Behind them marched themusicians and singers of the city, crowned with roses, clad in flowingwhite vestments. They swept the lyre, and played the flutes, and someGreeks from Sonnica's pottery, who had been wandering rhapsodists, sangfragments from the epic of the Trojan war before the barbarian throngs,who scarcely understood them, but admired the harmonious cadence ofHomer's verses.
The people pressed forward, craning their necks to get a better view ofthe salii, the dancing devotees of Mars, who advanced nude, armed withsword and shield. Slung from the stick laid across their shoulders, twoslaves were carrying a row of bronze shields, on which another slave wasbeating with a mallet, and keeping time to these harsh sounds the saliidanced, making feigned attacks, and raining blows with their swords onthe shield of the pretended adversary, uttering ferocious shouts, andalso performing pantomimes to recall the main episodes in the life ofthe goddess Minerva.
> Behind the clamor, which set the streets in a commotion, causing thepopulace to roar with enthusiasm excited by the warlike display, came agroup of girls holding a peplus of finest texture on which the principalGrecian women of the city had embroidered the combat of Minerva with theTitans. It was the offering which was to remain in the new temple of thegoddess as a perpetual token of the festival.
Closing the procession, the sacred squadron advanced, the richestcitizens, mounted on fiery horses, which, with their evolutionscompelled the crowd to fall back against the walls. They presented abrave display, making their steeds rear on their hind feet, guided onlyby the bridle, riding bareback, pressing their knees into the horses'ribs. The eldest of the horsemen wore huge hats in the Athenian fashion.The young men wore the winged helmet of Mercury or went bareheaded,their short curls bound by a fire-colored ribbon. Alorcus wore the crownhe had won, and Actaeon, riding beside him on one of the Celtiberian'shorses, smiled at the crowd, which regarded him with a certain respectas if he were Sonnica's husband and in possession of her enormousriches. The horsemen gazed with pride at the swords which hung at theirsides and clanked against the flanks of their horses, and they took inwith a glance the high Acropolis and the city lying at its feet, as ifexpressing confidence in their strength, and faith in the tranquility inwhich Saguntum might dwell, sure of protection.
The crowd fired with enthusiasm by the brilliant procession, acclaimedSonnica. Surrounded by her slave women, she gazed down from the terraceof her great building in the ward of the merchants where she stored hermerchandise. She was the organizer, the one who bore the cost of thepeplus of Minerva, she it was who had transplanted to Saguntum thebeautiful festival of Athens. Fragrant odors from the censers were flungupon the air; a shower of roses fell from the windows upon the maidens;arms glistened in the sunlight, and in moments when the people weresilent the sounds of lyres and flutes floated on the breeze,accompanying with soft melodies the voices of the Homeric rhapsodists.
The crude Celtiberians, gathered to witness the festival, remainedsilent in astonishment at the procession which dazzled them with itsglitter of arms and jewels and the multicolored confusion of costumes.The natives of Saguntum congratulated their fellow-citizens, the Greeks,admiring the splendor of the festival.
The festivity did not cease with the passing of the brilliantprocession. In the afternoon the diversion of the populace, the festivalof the poor, would take place. The race of the flaming torch would beheld along the walls. Mariners, potters, laborers, all the free and poorpeople of the port and the country in wild career, would carry lightedtorches in memory of Prometheus. He who accomplished the feat of makingthe round of the city, keeping his torch still burning, would bedeclared winner; those who let theirs go out, or who traveled slowly toprotect the flames, would be greeted with hisses and blows by the crowd.Even the rich gave vent to enthusiasm over this popular festival whichproduced so much merriment.
Near the Acropolis, when the procession was wholly within its walls,Alorcus discerned among the people a Celtiberian mounted on a horsecovered with foam and sweat, beckoning him to approach.
Alorcus, turning away from the troop of horsemen, trotted towards him.
"What do you want?" he asked, in the harsh language of his country.
"I am one of your tribe, and your father is my chief. I have justreached Saguntum after traveling three days to say to you; 'Alorcus,your father is dying, and he calls for you.' The ancients of your tribehave ordered me not to return without you."
Actaeon had followed his friend, breaking away from the sacred squadron,and witnessed the dialogue without understanding a word, although heguessed something disagreeable by the Celtiberian's pale face.
"Bad news?" he asked Alorcus.
"My father is dying, and he has sent for me."
"What shall you do?"
"I must go immediately. My people demand my presence."
The two horsemen began the descent to the city, followed by theCeltiberian messenger.
Actaeon sympathized with his comrade's emotion. At the same time thecuriosity of the traveler, so often aroused by the Celtiberian's tales,was awakened within him.
"Do you wish me to accompany you, Alorcus?"
The young man received the proposition with a look of gratitude. Thenhe declined, saying that he must depart in haste; the Greek might wishto bid farewell to Sonnica; perhaps the separation would be a grief toher; and he desired to start on the journey at once.
"We will omit the farewell," said the Greek in his light, happy manner."Sonnica will be resigned when I make known to her through a slave thatI shall be absent for some days. Do you wish to leave immediately? Iwill accompany you. I am curious to see that land with its strangecustoms, and its valiant and sturdy inhabitants, of whose brave deedsyou have so often told me."
They crossed the city. The streets were deserted. The entire populationhad gone up to the Acropolis. Actaeon stopped a moment before Sonnica'swarehouses to give the news of his journey to her slaves, and then hefollowed his friend, riding forth from the city.
Alorcus lodged in one of the inns in the suburb, an enormous edificewith extensive stables and broad courtyards, where continuously rang thediverse tongues of the interior of the Peninsula, hoarsened and madestrident by dickering for merchandise and the bartering of beasts. Fivemen of the tribe accompanied the young Celtiberian during his stay inSaguntum, taking care of his horses and serving him as free domestics.
On learning that they were to depart these sons of the mountains shoutedwith joy. They had languished with inactivity in that rich and fruitfulcountry amid customs which they detested, and they made preparations forthe journey in haste.
The sun was setting when they started. Alorcus and Actaeon rode inadvance, their mantles thrown over their heads, padded linenbreastplates to protect their chests after the Celtiberian fashion, andshort broadswords, and leather shields hanging at their sides. The fiveservants and the messenger brought up the rear, armed with long lances,driving the mules laden with Alorcus' clothing and provisions.
Throughout the afternoon they traveled upon the roads, being still inthe Saguntine domain, and they passed cultivated and fruitful fields,beautiful villas and compact little towns clinging close around thetower which served them as defense. When night closed in they campedclose to a miserable village in the mountains. There the territory ofSaguntum ended. Beyond lay the tribes which were almost constantlywarring with the people of the coast.
Next morning the Greek beheld a wholly different landscape. The sea andthe green plains lay behind him, and he saw only mountains and moremountains, some covered with great pine forests, others red, with bluffsof bluish stone, overgrown with dense thickets which, brushed by thepassing caravan, sent forth clouds of frightened birds, while terrifiedrabbits scampered under the very horses' hoofs.
The trails were not the work of man. The beasts laboriously picked theirway in the tracks left by former travelers; they often twisted aroundmasses of rock fallen from the summits, and again they forded streamswhich ran across their path. They skirted mountains; they climbedheights into a silent region seldom penetrated by man, where eaglesscreamed, flapping their wings in anger at this invasion. They rode downinto gorges, deep crevices, in which reigned a sepulchral penumbra andwhere buzzards hopped close by the dead body of some abandoned animal.
In the distance they saw beside a stream in a little valley, a group ofmud-walled cabins with straw-thatched roofs, with an open hole to letlight into the dwelling and to give exit to the smoke. The women, bonyand dressed in skins, surrounded by naked children, came out of theirhovels to stare at the passing caravan, with wild expressions of alarmas if the approach of strangers could only bring misfortune. Othersyounger, barelegged, with ragged aprons hanging from their waists, werereaping the stunted wheat, which barely rose like a golden film abovethe sterile, whitish earth. Girls, strong and ugly, with masculinelimbs, came down from the mountains, bearing great bundles of fagots ontheir backs, while t
he men sat in the shade of nut and oak treesbraiding bull-tendons for making their shields, or they practicedhurling, darts and handling the lance, their tangled hair falling overbronzed and bearded faces.
On the highest points along the way appeared warriors of doubtfulaspect, a mixture of bandit and shepherd, armed with long lances andcarrying leather shields, mounted on small horses with long and filthyhair. They looked the company over, and after measuring its strength,and seeing it would be difficult to conquer, they turned back to theirsheep pasturing in the deep mountain gorges filled with a tangle ofshrubbery. The innumerable flocks of lambs and herds of cattle,accustomed to the wild solitude, fled terrified as they heard thepassing of the caravan. Bevies of quail ran in search of food like grayants among the rosemary and thyme growing on the slopes, and flew awayat the sound of the horses' hoofs, whirring like a hiss over thetravelers' heads.
Actaeon was interested in the rude customs of these people. The cabinswere made of red adobe, or of stones laid in clay, and roofed withbranches. The women, uglier and more energetic than the men, performedthe fatiguing labor. Only boys worked, imitating their mothers. Youngmen early grasped the lance, and under the direction of their elderslearned to fight on foot or on horseback; they broke the colts,springing to the ground, and mounting again while the horse was running,and they trained themselves to remain kneeling motionless on the horses'backs with their arms free to wield the sword and shield.
In some villages the party was received with traditional hospitality,and was welcomed even more affectionately on recognizing Alorcus, theheir of Endovellicus, the respected chieftain of the tribes of Baraecowhich had pastured their flocks for centuries on the banks of the Jalon.When night came they gave up to them their best beds of woven thongscovered with fluffy dried grasses; they impaled a calf on a spit,turning it before an enormous bonfire, for regaling the caravan, andduring the journey the women detained them at the entrance to theirhuts, offering them in coarse earthen vessels the bitter beer brewed inthe valleys, and the bread made of acorn flour.
Alorcus explained the customs of his people to the Athenian. Theygathered acorns, their chief food, exposing them to the sun until welldried. They husked and ground them, and stored the supply of flour forsix months. This bread, with game, and the milk of their animals,constituted their principal food. At intervals pestilence robbed them oftheir flocks, the crops failed, and hunger decimated the tribes; thenthe strong devoured the weak. Alorcus remembered hearing this from theelders of his tribe as having occurred in remote times when Neton,Autubel, Nabi, and other divinities of the land, irritated against theirpeople, had sent upon them these fearful punishments.
The young Celtiberian continued telling of the customs. Some of thewomen who worked in the fields with so much vigor had perhaps givenbirth to a child the day before. As soon as born they immersed it in thenearest river, so that by this act, which in many cases caused death, itwould grow vigorous and insensible to cold; and while the motherresolutely arose and continued her work, the husband took her place inthe bed, lying down with the newly born child. The woman, still barelyconvalescent, took care of the two, surrounding the hale and heartyhusband with comforts, as if in gratitude for the fruit he had givenher.
Several times the caravan on its march passed men lying rigid andgroaning on couches of herbs gathered by the wayside. Flies buzzed abouttheir heads in clouds; an amphora of water stood within their reach. Achild squatted near the couch brushing away the insects with a branch.They were sick people whom their relatives exposed by the roadsideaccording to ancient custom, partly to implore the clemency of thedivinities by exhibiting their misery, and also in order that passingtravelers might advise a remedy, thus transmitting prescriptions fromdistant countries.
The strong men bathed in horse urine to harden their muscles. Their onlyluxury consisted in weapons. They admired as priceless jewels the bronzeswords brought from the north of the Peninsula, and those of steel madeby the people of Bilbilis and tempered in the sands of their famousriver. The flexible cuirasses, formed by several thicknesses ofsuperposed linen, or those of leather, decorated with nails, weredefensive arms which the Celtiberian never laid aside, not even when inbed. They slept dressed in the sagum, the metal greaves on their legs,and their weapons within reach of the hand, ready to fight the instantthe slightest alarm might disturb their sleep.
After three days of travel the caravan entered the territory belongingto the tribes of Alorcus. The mountains separated on both sides of theJalon, forming smiling valleys covered by tall grasses, through whichran herds of wild horses with curling manes and waving tails. The womencame out of the villages to greet Alorcus, and the men, grasping lances,mounted their horses and joined the caravan. In the first village wherethey stopped an old man told Alorcus that his father, the powerfulEndovellicus, was dying, and in the next through which they passed in afew hours, he heard that the great chieftain had died at daybreak.
All the warriors of the tribe, herders and farmers, followed them onhorseback. When they reached the village where the kinglet had lived,the escort had grown to a small army.
In the doorway of the paternal house, a low structure of red stonesroofed with logs, Alorcus saw his sisters in dresses made of flowers andwearing around their necks and over their heads cage-like collars fromthe bars of which hung mourning veils.
The sisters of Alorcus, as well as the women who accompanied them, thewives of the chief warriors of the tribe, hid their grief at the deathof the chieftain, and smiled as if it were the eve of a festival. Oldage was a disgrace among the Celtiberians, who held life in contempt,and fought for diversion when not engaged in war. To die in bed wasdeemed dishonorable, and the only thing which somewhat disturbed theserenity of the family of Endovellicus was that so famous a warrior, theterror of neighboring clans, should have died with white hair, his lifeflickering out like a wasted torch, after having galloped his steedthrough so many combats, hurling his sword like a thunderbolt upon theenemy.
Actaeon's dress and his countenance attracted the curious gaze of all thetribe. Many of the Celtiberians had never seen a Greek, and they lookedupon this one with hostile eyes, recalling the clever tricks and sharpdealings of the Hellenic merchants experienced by their brethren whenthey went down to Saguntum to sell silver from the mines.
Alorcus reassured his people.
"He is my brother," he said, in the language of the country. "We havedwelt together in Saguntum. Besides, he is not a native of that city. Heis from very far away, from a land where the men are almost gods, and hehas journeyed hither with me to become acquainted with you."
The women gazed at Actaeon in astonishment on hearing the almost divineorigin which Alorcus attributed to him.
The members of the caravan had dismounted, and entered the immense logstructure which had served the chief for a palace. A vast room blackenedby smoke, lighted only by narrow apertures like loopholes, served as aplace of reunion and council for the warriors of the tribe. At one endwas an enormous stone, upon which was burning a wood fire, while a greatopening in the roof did service as a chimney. Set in one wall was astone slab, with the figure of the divinity of the tribe strangling twolions rudely sculptured upon it. Hung along the walls were lances andshields, skins of wild beasts, bleached craniums and twisted horns oflarge game. A stone bench ran along the sides of the room making waynear the fireplace for a high masonry seat covered by a bear skin. Herethe chieftain was accustomed to sit.
The warriors took their places on the bench as they entered.
One old man taking Alorcus by the hand, guided him to a place of honor.
"Sit here, son of Endovellicus. You are his only heir and you shall beour chief. May his valor and his prudence dwell in you."
The other warriors assented to the elder's words with grave nods ofapproval.
"Where is my father's body?" asked Alorcus, filled with emotion by thesimple ceremony.
"Since the sun set it has slept in the meadow where you learned to breakhors
es and to use arms. The young men of the tribe are keeping guardover it. The obsequies worthy of so great a chief will take place atsunrise. Then, as our new king, you will give us counsel upon the greataffairs of the tribe."
Alorcus compelled the Greek to sit beside him. The women filed in withtorches, since no more than a dim twilight was produced by the pale,diffused glow filtering through the narrow slits in the wall. Thesisters of Alorcus, with lowered eyes, their flowery tunics floatingabout their strong, virginal forms, passed before the warriors, offeringdrinking horns filled with metheglin and beer. The men imbibedenormously without losing self-control. They recounted the deeds ofEndovellicus as if he had died many years before, and they told of thegreat enterprises in which his successor would surely lead them hintingagain and again, in mysterious words, at a subject with which they mustdeal in the council on the morrow.
Supper was brought. The Celtiberians were not accustomed to eating attable like the people of the coast. They remained seated on the stonebench. The women placed beside them a wheaten loaf, instead of the acornbread which was commonly eaten, this being an extraordinary feast.Others passed a great vessel filled with chunks of roasted meat stilldripping blood, and each warrior speared a piece with the point of hisknife. Horns overflowing with liquor circulated from hand to hand, andActaeon accepted with graceful mien whatever his neighbors, in hospitablephrase which he could not understand, offered him.
Supper being ended, the young men of the tribe came in with trumpets andflutes, and began to play a bizarre air which combined the joy of thechase with the fury of their charge upon the enemy in battle. Theguests were aroused, and the youngest among them, springing into thecentre of the room, began to dance with gymnastic freedom. It was thedance with which the Celtiberians terminated their banquets, a violentexercise which put their muscles to the test, and caused them to regaintheir spirit even in moments of greatest depression.
Long before midnight the warriors retired, leaving Alorcus and Actaeonalone in the great smoke-filled room, where sputtered the torches,tingeing the barbaric decorations on the walls with a blood-like hue.They slept on couches of aromatic herbs, without removing theirclothing, their weapons near them, as slept all the tribe, ever fearfulof attack from neighbors tempted by the multitude of their flocks.
At daybreak they went down to the meadow where the body of Endovellicuswas exposed. The whole tribe was gathered on the plain near the river;the young men on horseback with their lances, and in full armor; the oldmen seated in the shade of the oak trees; the women and children nearthe pyre of logs upon which lay the corpse of their chief.
Endovellicus was arrayed in his war costume. His faded hair escapedbeneath the borders of his triple-crested helmet; his silvery beardrested upon a cuirass of bronze scales; his muscular arms were naked,and his hands were clasped over the Celtiberian sword, short andslender, with broadened point, and his legs were bound by the broadstraps of his sandals. His shield, engraved with a representation of thegods of the tribe struggling with two lions, served as a cushion for hishead.
When the two young men arrived the same elder who had spoken to Alorcusthe day before advanced. He was the wisest of the tribe, and hadcounselled Endovellicus many times before undertaking audaciousexpeditions. Under extraordinary circumstances he had laid open with hissacred knife the viscera of his prisoners to read the future in thequiverings of their entrails. Again he had cut off the hands of theconquered to dedicate them to the god of the tribe, nailing them to thechieftain's door to placate the divinity. Mystery used him as amouthpiece and all the tribe regarded him with awe and fear, as if hewere capable of changing the course of the sun and of destroying in anight the crops of an enemy.
"Advance, son of Endovellicus!" he said solemnly. "Look upon your peoplewho choose you as most valiant and most worthy to succeed your father!"
He questioned the assemblage with a look, and the warriors answered bybeating on their shields, uttering the same shouts with which theyinfuriated themselves on plunging into battle.
"You have become our king!" continued the elder. "You shall be fatherand guardian of your people! That you may fulfill your mission receivethe great inheritance of your father! Bring hither the shield."
Two young men climbed to the top of the pyre, and raising Endovellicus'head, they brought down the shield engraved with the image of the god,and delivered it to Alorcus.
"With this shield," continued the venerable warrior, "you shall protectyour people from the blows of the enemy. Bring hither the sword!"
The young men brought down the sword, drawing it forth from the stifffingers of Endovellicus.
"Bind it upon you, Alorcus," continued the wizard. "With this you shalldefend us, and may it fall like a thunderbolt wherever the destiny ofyour people points! Advance, youthful king!"
Guided by the elder, Alorcus stepped forward to the pyre upon which hisfather lay. He turned away his face that he might not behold the body,fearing an outburst of grief which would force him to shed tears beforehis tribe.
"Swear by Neton, by Autubel, by Nabi, by Caulece, by all the gods of ourtribe, and of all the tribes that people this earth and hate theforeigners who one day came from across the sea to rob us of our riches.Swear to be faithful to your people and ever to obey the counsels of thewarriors of your tribe! Swear it by the body of your father, which soonwill be only ashes!"
Alorcus took the oath, and the warriors pounded upon their shieldsagain, uttering acclamations of joy.
The old warrior, with extraordinary vigor, climbed upon the logs andsearched beneath the cuirass of the corpse.
"Take this, Alorcus!" he said, on descending. He handed the newchieftain a slender copper chain from which hung a disk-like case of thesame metal. "This is the greatest inheritance from your father--themanumission which accompanied him at all times. There is not a warriorin Celtiberia who does not carry upon his person his poison so that hemay die rather than become the slave of the conqueror. I prepared thisfor your father. I spent a whole moon extracting it from the wildapium, and one drop of it will kill like a lightning flash. If some dayyou fall vanquished, drink and die before your people behold theirchieftain with a hand stricken off and serving the enemy as a slave."
Alorcus slipped the chain over his head, concealing the heirloom in hisbreast. Then he returned to Actaeon, beneath the oaks where the ancientsof the tribe were grouped.
The young men in the meadow, apprentices in the art of warfare, ranaround the pyre with lighted torches. The flaming candlewood licked theresinous logs, and soon the smoke and flames began to enwrap the corpse.
The warriors most famous for valor and strength advanced, making theirhorses caracole round about the fire.
Waving their lances, they proclaimed with hoarse cries the deeds of thedeparted chief, the body of the tribe joining in the acclamation. Theyrelated the innumerable combats from which he had come forth victor; theaudacious expeditions on which he had caught the enemy off their guardat night, burning their dwellings, and leading off interminable stringsof captives; the flocks captured, for which there was barelypasture-ground in the territories belonging to the tribe; his colossalstrength; the quickness with which he mastered the wildest colt; and theprudence which he demonstrated in all his counsels.
"He covered the doors of our houses with the hands of our enemies,"shouted a warrior, galloping like a phantom through the smoke of thefuneral pyre.
The multitude shouted with an intonation of lament.
"Endovellicus! Endovellicus!"
"All the tribes feared him, and his name was respected like that of agod!"
The multitude repeated the name of the chief over and over, as ifweeping.
"With his hands of stone he would fell the bull in full career, andsmite off the head of the enemy with a stroke of his sword!"
"Endovellicus! Endovellicus!"
Thus proceeded the last rites to the chieftain. The flames from the bierrose straight into the heavens clouding the blue sky with its pall
ofsmoke, and the mourners tireless in heralding the deeds of their leader,passed and repassed like black demons crowned with sparks, making theirhorses leap over the flaming wood. The funeral pyre fell overwhelmingthe remains of Endovellicus with ashes and charring logs, while aroundthe embers of the fire commenced the combat in honor of the dead.
The warriors advanced on horseback with slack rein, the shield heldbefore the breast, the sword raised high, and they fought likeirreconcilable enemies. The closest comrades, brothers at arms, dealteach other tremendous blows, with the enthusiasm of a people which turnsfighting into a diversion. They must shed blood to glorify the memory ofthe deceased with greater pomp. Horses fell at the shock of theencounter and the riders continued the struggle on foot, wrestling bodyto body, making the shields resound with the force of the blows. Whensome of the warriors had retired covered with blood, and the combat hadassumed the character of a general battle, in which, aroused by thespectacle, the women and children participated, Alorcus ordered thetrumpets to sound the retreat, and he hurled himself among thecombatants to separate the more tenacious.
Thus ended the funeral rites. The slaves of the tribe flung the remnantsof the bonfire into a ditch, and the crowd, seeing the festival over,before retiring to their villages, held aloft once more their hornsbrimming with beer, to drink to the honor of the new-made king.
The principal warriors turned toward the dwelling of the chief to holdcouncil.
The Athenian traveled beside Alorcus, manifesting astonishment at thebarbaric and warlike customs of the Celtiberians. As he could notunderstand their language, the warriors were not alarmed at seeing himtake a seat in the council hall near their new chieftain.
The wizard discoursed at length to Alorcus, amid the respectful silenceof the warriors. Actaeon understood that he was giving an account ofextraordinary events which had occurred in the tribe a few days beforethe arrival of the new king. Perhaps some call from friendly tribes,some fruitful expedition planned by the more venturesome.
He saw the face of Alorcus darken, as if they were telling him somethingpainful, repugnant to his feelings. The assemblage looked at himfixedly, betraying in their eyes enthusiasm and agreement with the oldman's words. Alorcus recovered his composure, listening calmly to thewizard, and when the latter ceased talking, after a long pause, he spokea few words and with his head made a gesture of assent.
His rude countrymen received the chieftain's acceptance with ardor, andrushed from the house in vehement haste to carry the news to thoseoutside.
When the Greek and the Celtiberian were left alone, the latter saidsadly:
"Actaeon, to-morrow I set out with my people. I begin to serve aschieftain of the tribe. I must lead it to combat."
"May I accompany you?"
"No. I know not where we are going. My father had a powerful ally whom Idare not name to you, and this ally calls me without saying why. Thewhole tribe displays tremendous enthusiasm for this expedition."
After a pause Alorcus added:
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. My sisters will obeyyou as if you were Alorcus himself."
"No; since you will not be here, nothing remains for me to do. I haveseen enough in one day to know the Celtiberians. I will return toSaguntum."
"Happy man, who can return to the Grecian life, to Sonnica's banquets,to the sweet peace of those merchants! May it never be disturbed, andmay I be able to return there as a friend!"
The two preserved a long silence, as if black thoughts were whirlingthrough their minds.
"You will return from this expedition loaded down with riches," said theGreek, "and you will come back to Saguntum to spend them joyously."
"May it be thus!" murmured Alorcus. "But I feel a presentiment that weshall never meet again, Actaeon; or, if we meet, it will be to curse thegods that we should ever have known each other. I go ignorant of mydestination, and perhaps I must march against what I most love."
They said no more; they feared to give expression to their thoughts.
Greek and Celtiberian embraced tenderly. Then, after a sorrowfulfarewell, they kissed each other on the eyes in sign of fraternalfriendship.