CHAPTER XVIII
DEMOCRATES'S TROUBLES RETURN
All through that year to its close and again to the verge of springtimethe sun made violet haze upon the hills and pure fire of the bay atEleusis-by-the-Sea. Night by night the bird song would be stilled in theold olives along the dark waters. There Hermione would sit looking offinto the void, as many another in like plight has sat and wearily waited,asking of the night and the sea the questions that are never answered. Asthe bay shimmered under the light of morning, she could gaze toward thebrown crags of Salamis and the open AEgean beyond. The waves kept theirabiding secret. The tall triremes, the red-sailed fishers' boats, came andwent from the havens of Athens, but Hermione never saw the ship that hadborne away her all.
The roar and scandal following the unmasking of Glaucon had long sinceabated. Hermippus--himself full five years grayer on account of thecalamity--had taken his daughter again to quiet Eleusis, where there wasless to remind her of that terrible night at Colonus. She spent the autumnand winter in an unbroken shadow life, with only her mother and oldCleopis for companions. Reasons not yet told to the world gave her alittle hope and comfort. But in mere desire to make her dark cloud break,her parents were continually giving Hermione pain. She guessed it longbefore her father's wishes passed beyond vaguest hints. She heard himpraising Democrates, his zeal for Athens and Hellas, his fair worldlyprospects, and there needed no diviner to reveal Hermippus's hiddenmeaning. Once she overheard Cleopis talking with another maid.
"Her Ladyship has taken on terribly, to be sure, but I told her mother'when a fire blazes too hot, it burns out simply the faster.' Democratesis just the man to console in another year."
"Yes," answered the other wiseacre, "she's far too young and pretty tostay unwedded very long. Aphrodite didn't make her to sit as an old maidcarding wool and munching beans. One can see Hermippus's and Lysistra'spurpose with half an eye."
"Cleopis, Nania, what is this vile tattling that I hear?"
The young mistress's eyes blazed fury. Nania turned pale. Hermione wasquite capable of giving her a sound whipping, but Cleopis mustered a boldfront and a ready lie:
"_Ei!_ dear little lady, don't flash up so! I was only talking with Naniaabout how Phryne the scullion maid was making eyes at Scylax the groom."
"I heard you quite otherwise," was the nigh tremulous answer. But Hermionewas not anxious to push matters to an issue. From the moment of Glaucon'sdownfall she had believed--what even her own mother had mildly derided--thatDemocrates had been the author of her husband's ruin. And now that theintent of her parents ever more clearly dawned on her, she was close upondespair. Hermippus, however,--whatever his purpose,--was considerate, naykindly. He regarded Hermione's feelings as pardonable, if not laudable. Hewould wait for time to soothe her. But the consciousness that her fatherpurposed such a fate for her, however far postponed, was enough to doubleall the unanswered longing, the unstilled pain.
Glaucon was gone. And with him gone, could Hermione's sun ever rise again?Could she hope, across the end of the aeons, to clasp hands even in the dimHouse of Hades with her glorious husband? If there was chance thereof,dark Hades would grow bright as Olympus. How gladly she would fare out tothe shade land, when Hermes led down his troops of helpless dead.
"Downward, down the long dark pathway, Past Oceanus's great streams, Past the White Rock, past the Sun's gates Downward to the land of Dreams: There they reach the wide dim borders Of the fields of asphodel, Where the spectres and the spirits Of wan, outworn mortals dwell."
But was this the home of Glaucon the Fair; should the young, the strong,the pure in heart, share one condemnation with the mean and the guilty?Homer the Wise left all hid. Yet he told of some not doomed to the commonlot. Thus ran the promise to Menelaus, espoused to Helen.
"Far away the gods shall bear you: To the fair Elysian plains, Where the time fleets gladly, swiftly, Where bright Rhadamanthus reigns: Snow is not, nor rain, nor winter, But clear zephyrs from the west, Singing round the streams of Ocean Round the islands of the Blest."
Was the pledge for Menelaus only?
The boats came, the boats went, on the blue bay. But as the spring grewwarm, Hermione thought less of them, less almost of the last dread visionof Glaucon.
* * * * * * *
The cloud of the Persian hung ever darkening over Athens. Continualrumours made Xerxes's power terrible even beyond fact. It was hard to goon eating, drinking, frequenting the jury or the gymnasium, when men knewto a certainty the coming summer would bring Athens face to face withslavery or destruction. Wise men grew silent. Fools took to carousing tobanish care. But one word not the frailest uttered--"submission." Worldlyprudence forbade that. The women would have stabbed the craven to deathwith their bodkins. For the women were braver than the men. They knew thefate of conquered Ionia: for the men only merciful death, for the womenthe living death of the Persian harems and indignities words may notutter. Whether Hellas forsook her or aided, Athens had chosen her fate.Xerxes might annihilate her. Conquer her he could not.
Yet the early spring came back sweetly as ever. The warm breeze blew fromEgypt. Philomela sang in the olive groves. The snows on Pentelicus faded.Around the city ran bands of children singing the "swallow's song," andbeseeching the spring donation of honey cakes:--
"She is here, she is here, the swallow; Fair seasons bringing,--fair seasons to follow."
And many a housewife, as she rewarded the singers, dropped a silent tear,wondering whether another spring would see the innocents anywhere save ina Persian slave-pen, or, better fate, in Orchus.
Yet to one woman that spring there came consolation. On Hermippus's doorhung a glad olive wreath. Hermione had borne a son. "The fairest babe shehad ever seen," cried the midwife. "Phoenix," the mother called him, "forin him shall Glaucon the Beautiful live again." Democrates sent a runnerevery day to Eleusis to inquire for Hermione until all danger was passed.On the "name-day," ten days after the birth, he was absent from thegathering of friends and kinsmen, but sent a valuable statuette toHermione, who left it, however, to her father to thank him.
The day after Phoenix was born old Conon, Glaucon's father, died. The oldman had never recovered from the blow given by the dishonourable death ofthe son with whom he had so lately quarrelled. He left a great landedestate at Marathon to his new-born grandson. The exact value thereofDemocrates inquired into sharply, and when a distant cousin talked ofcontesting the will, the orator announced he would defend the infant'srights. The would-be plaintiff withdrew at once, not anxious to crossswords with this favourite of the juries, and everybody said thatDemocrates was showing a most scrupulous regard for his unfortunatefriend's memory.
Indeed, seemingly, Democrates ought to have been the happiest man inAthens. He had been elected "strategus," to serve on the board of generalsalong with Themistocles. He had plenty of money, and gave great banquetsto this or that group of prominent citizens. During the winter he hadasked Hermippus for his daughter in marriage. The Eumolpid told him thatsince Glaucon's fearful end, he was welcome as a son-in-law. Still hecould not conceal that Hermione never spoke of him save in hate, and inview of her then delicate condition it was well not to press the matter.The orator had seemed well content. "Woman's fantasies would wear away intime." But the rumour of this negotiation, outrunning truth, grew into thelying report of an absolute betrothal,--the report which was to drift toAsia and turn Glaucon's heart to stone, gossip having always wrought moreharm than malignant lying.
Yet flies were in Democrates's sweet ointment. He knew Themistocles hardlytrusted him as frankly as of yore. Little Simonides, a man of wideinfluence and keen insight, treated him very coldly. Cimon had cooledalso. But worse than all was a haunting dread. Democrates knew, if hardlyanother in Hellas, that the Cyprian--in other words Mardonius--was safe inAsia, and likewise that he had fled on the _Solon_. Mardonius, then, hadescaped the storm
. What if the same miracle had saved the outlaw? What ifthe dead should awake? The chimera haunted Democrates night and day.
Still he was beginning to shake off his terrors. He believed he had washedhis hands fairly clean of his treason, even if the water had cost hissoul. He joined with all his energies in seconding Themistocles. His voicewas loudest at the Pnyx, counselling resistance. He went on successfulembassies to Sicyon and AEgina to get pledges of alliance. In the summer hedid his uttermost to prepare the army which Themistocles and Evaenetus theSpartan led to defend the pass of Tempe. The expedition sailed amid highhopes for a noble defence of Hellas. Democrates was proud and sanguine.Then, like a thunderbolt, there came one night a knock at his door. Biasled to his master no less a visitor than the sleek and smilingPhoenician--Hiram.
The orator tried to cover his terrors by windy bluster. He broke in beforethe Oriental could finish his elaborate salaam.
"Of all the harpies and gorgons you are the least welcome. Were you notwarned when you fled Athens for Argos never to show your face in Atticaagain?"
"Your Excellency said so," was the bland reply.
"Admirably you obey it. It remains for me to reward the obedience. Bias,go to the street; summon two Scythian watchmen."
The Thracian darted out. Hiram simply stood with hands folded.
"It is well, Excellency, the lad is gone. I have many things to say inconfidence to your Nobility. At Lacedaemon my Lord Lycon was graciousenough to give certain commands for me to transmit to you."
"Commands? To me? Earth and gods! am I to be commanded by an adder likeyou? You shall pay for this on the rack."
"Your slave thinks otherwise," observed Hiram, humbly. "If your Lordshipwill deign to read this letter, it will save your slave many words andyour Lordship many cursings."
He knelt again before he offered a papyrus. Democrates would rather havetaken fire, but he could not refuse. And thus he read:--
"Lycon of Lacedaemon to Democrates of Athens, greeting:--Can he who Medizesin the summer Hellenize in the spring? I know your zeal for Themistocles.Was it for this we plucked you back from exposure and ruin? Do then asHiram bids you, or repay the money you clutched so eagerly. Fail not, orrest confident all the documents you betrayed shall go to Hypsichides theFirst Archon, your enemy. Use then your eloquence on Attic juries! But youwill grow wise; what need of me to threaten? You will hearken to Hiram.
"From Sparta, on the festival of Bellerophon, in the ephorship ofTheudas.--_Chaire!_"
Democrates folded the papyrus and stood long, biting his whitened lips insilence. Perhaps he had surmised the intent of the letter the instantHiram extended it.
"What do you desire?" he said thickly, at last.
"Let my Lord then hearken--" began the Phoenician, to be interrupted by thesudden advent of Bias.
"The Scythians are at the door, _kyrie_," he was shouting; "shall I orderthem in and drag this lizard out by the tail?"
"No, in Zeus's name, no! Bid them keep without. And do you go also. Thishonest fellow is on private business which only I must hear."
Bias slammed the door. Perhaps he stood listening. Hiram, at least, glidednearer to his victim and spoke in a smooth whisper, taking no chances ofan eavesdropper.
"Excellency, the desire of Lycon is this. The army has been sent to Tempe.At Lacedaemon Lycon used all his power to prevent its despatch, butLeonidas is omnipotent to-day in Sparta, and besides, since Lycon'scalamity at the Isthmia, his prestige, and therefore his influence, is nota little abated. Nevertheless, the army must be recalled from Tempe."
"And the means?"
"Yourself, Excellency. It is within your power to find a thousand goodreasons why Themistocles and Evaenetus should retreat. And you will do soat once, Excellency."
"Do not think you and your accursed masters can drive me from infamy toinfamy. I can be terrible if pushed to bay."
"Your Nobility has read Lycon's letter," observed the Phoenician, withfolded arms.
There was a sword lying on the tripod by which Democrates stood; heregretted for all the rest of his life that he had not seized it and endedthe snakelike Oriental then and there. The impulse came, and went. Theopportunity never returned. The orator's head dropped down upon hisbreast.
"Go back to Sparta, go back instantly," he spoke in a hoarse whisper."Tell that Polyphemus you call your master there that I will do his will.And tell him, too, that if ever the day comes for vengeance on him, on theCyprian, on you,--my vengeance will be terrible."
"Your slave's ears hear the first part of your message with joy,"--Hiram'ssmile never grew broader,--"the second part, which my Lord speaks inanger,--I will forget."
"Go! go!" ordered the orator, furiously. He clapped his hands. Biasreentered.
"Tell the constables I don't need them. Here is an obol apiece for theirtrouble. Conduct this man out. If he comes hither again, do you and theother slaves beat him till there is not a whole spot left on his body."
Hiram's genuflexion was worthy of Xerxes's court.
"My Lord, as always," was his parting compliment, "has shown himselfexceeding wise."
Thus the Oriental went. In what a mood Democrates passed the remaining dayneeds only scant wits to guess. Clearer, clearer in his ears was ringingAEschylus's song of the Furies. He could not silence it.
"With scourge and with ban We prostrate the man Who with smooth-woven wile And a fair-faced smile Hath planted a snare for his friend! Though fleet, we shall find him; Though strong, we shall bind him, Who planted a snare for his friend!"
He had intended to be loyal to Hellas,--to strive valiantly for herfreedom,--and now! Was the Nemesis coming upon him, not in one great clap,but stealthily, finger by finger, cubit by cubit, until his soul's pricewas to be utterly paid? Was this the beginning of the recompense for thenight scene at Colonus?
The next morning he made a formal visit to the shrine of the Furies in thehill of Areopagus. "An old vow, too long deferred in payment, taken whenhe joined in his first contest on the Bema," he explained to friends, whenhe visited this uncanny spot.
Few were the Athenians who would pass that cleft in the Areopagus wherethe "Avengers" had their grim sanctuary without a quick motion of thehands to avert the evil eye. Thieves and others of evil conscience wouldmake a wide circuit rather than pass this abode of Alecto, Megaera, andTisiphone, pitiless pursuers of the guilty. The terrible sisters hounded aman through life, and after death to the judgment bar of Minos. Withreason, therefore, the guilty dreaded them.
Democrates had brought the proper sacrifices--two black rams, which wereduly slaughtered upon the little altar before the shrine and sprinkledwith sweetened water. The priestess, a gray hag herself, asked her visitorif he would enter the cavern and proffer his petition to the mightygoddesses. Leaving his friends outside, the orator passed through the doorwhich the priestess seemed to open in the side of the cave. He saw only ajagged, unhewn cranny, barely tall enough for a man to stand upright andreaching far into the sculptured rock. No image: only a few rough votivetablets set up by a grateful suppliant for some mercy from the awfulgoddesses.
"If you would pray here, _kyrie_," said the hag, "it is needful that I goforth and close the door. The holy Furies love the dark, for is not theirhome in Tartarus?"
She went forth. As the light vanished, Democrates seemed buried in therock. Out of the blackness spectres were springing against him. From acleft he heard a flapping, a bat, an imprisoned bird, or Alecto's direfulwings. He held his hands downward, for he had to address infernalgoddesses, and prayed in haste.
"O ye sisters, terrible yet gracious, give ear. If by my offerings I havefound favour, lift from my heart this crushing load. Deliver me from thefear of the blood guilty. Are ye not divine? Do not the immortals know allthings? Ye know, then, how I was tempted, how sore was the compulsion, andhow life and love were sweet. Then spare me. Give me back unhauntedslumber. Deliver me from Lycon. Give my soul peace,--and in reward, I swearit by the Styx, by Zeus's own oat
h, I will build in your honour a templeby your sacred field at Colonus, where men shall gather to reverence youforever."
But here he ceased. In the darkness moved something white. Again aflapping. He was sure the white thing was Glaucon's face. Glaucon hadperished at sea. He had never been buried, so his ghost was wandering overthe world, seeking vainly for rest. It all came to Democrates in aninstant. His knees smote together; his teeth chattered. He sprang backupon the door and forced it open, but never saw the dove that flutteredforth with him.
"A hideous place!" he cried to his waiting friends. "A man must have astronger heart than mine to love to tarry after his prayer is finished."
Only a few days later Hellas was startled to hear that Tempe had beenevacuated without a blow, and the pass left open to Xerxes. It was saidDemocrates, in his ever commendable activity, had discovered at the lastmoment the mountain wall was not as defensible as hoped, and anyresistance would have been disastrous. Therefore, whilst the retreat wasbewailed, everybody praised the foresight of the orator. Everybody--oneshould say, except two, Bias and Phormio. They had many conferencestogether, especially after the coming and going of Hiram.
"There is a larger tunny in the sea than yet has entered the meshes,"confessed the fishmonger, sorely puzzled, after much vain talk.
But Hermione was caring for none of these things. Her hands were busy withthe swaddling clothes. Her thoughts only for that wicker cradle whichswung betwixt the pillars, where Hermippus's house looked toward Salamis.