A Victor of Salamis
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DARKEST HOUR
A city of two hundred thousand awaiting a common sentence of death,--suchseemed the doom of Athens.
Every morning the golden majesty of the sun rose above the wall ofHymettus, but few could lift their hands to Lord Helios and give praisefor another day of light. "Each sunrise brings Xerxes nearer." The bravestforgot not that.
Yet Athens was never more truly the "Violet-Crowned City" than on theselast days before the fearful advent. The sun at morn on Hymettus, the sunat night on Daphni, the nightingales and cicadas in the olives byCephissus, the hum of bees on the sweet thyme of the mountain, the purpleof the hills, the blue and the fire of the bay, the merry tinkle of thegoat bells upon the rocks, the laugh of little children in the streets--allthese made Athens fair, but could not take the cloud from the hearts ofthe people.
Trade was at standstill in the Agora. The most careless frequented thetemples. Old foes composed their cases before the arbitrator. The courtswere closed, but there was meeting after meeting in the Pnyx, withincessant speeches on one theme--how Athens must resist to the bitter end.
And why should not the end be bitter? Argos and Crete had Medized. Corcyrapromised and did nothing. Thebes was weakening. Thessaly had sent earthand water. Corinth, AEgina, and a few lesser states were moderately loyal,but great Sparta only procrastinated and despatched no help to herAthenian ally. So every day the Persian thunder-cloud was darkening.
But one man never faltered, nor suffered others about him tofalter,--Themistocles. The people heard him gladly--he would never talk ofdefeat. He had a thousand reasons why the invader should be baffled, froma convenient hexameter in old Bacis's oracle book, up to the fact that theGreeks used the longest spears. If he found it weary work looking thecrowding peril in the face and smiling still, he never confessed it. Hisfriends would marvel at his serenity. Only when they saw him sit silent,saw his brows knit, his hand comb at his beard, they knew hisinexhaustible brain was weaving the web which should ensnare the lord ofthe Aryans.
Thus day after day--while men thought dark things in their hearts.
* * * * * * *
Hermippus had come down to his city house from Eleusis, and with him hiswife and daughter. The Eleusinian was very busy. He was a member of theAreopagus, the old council of ex-archons, an experienced body that foundmuch to do. Hermippus had strained his own resources to provide shieldsfor the hoplites. He was constantly with Themistocles, which implied beingmuch with Democrates. The more he saw of the young orator, the better theEleusinian liked him. True, not every story ran to Democrates's credit,but Hermippus knew the world, and could forgive a young man if he hadoccasionally spent a jolly night. Democrates seemed to have forswornIonian harp-girls now. His patriotism was self-evident. The Eleusinian sawin him a most desirable protector in the perils of war for Hermione andher child. Hermione's dislike for her husband's destroyer wasnatural,--nay, in bounds, laudable,--but one must not give way too much towomen's phantasies. The lady was making a Cyclops of Democrates by sheerimagination; an interview would dispel her prejudices. Therefore Hermippusplanned, and his plan was not hard to execute.
On the day the fleet sailed to Artemisium, Hermione went with her motherto the havens, as all the city went, to wish godspeed to the "wooden wall"of Hellas.
One hundred and twenty-seven triremes were to go forth, and three andfifty to follow, bearing the best and bravest of Athens with them.Themistocles was in absolute command, and perhaps in his heart of heartsDemocrates was not mournful if it lay out of his power to do a secondill-turn to his country.
It was again summer, and again such a day as when Glaucon with gladfriends had rowed toward Salamis. The Saronian bay flashed fairest azure.The scattered isles and the headlands of Argolis rose in clear beauty. Thecity had emptied itself. Mothers hung on the necks of sons as the latterstrode toward Peiraeus; friends clasped hands for the last time as he whoremained promised him who went that the wife and little ones should neverbe forgotten. Only Hermione, as she stood on the hill of Munychia abovethe triple havens, shed no tear. The ship bearing her all was gone longsince. Themistocles would never lead it back. Hermippus was at the quay inPeiraeus, taking leave of the admiral. Old Cleopis held the babe asHermione stood by her mother. The younger woman had suffered her gaze towander to far AEgina, where a featherlike cloud hung above the topmostsummit of the isle, when her mother's voice called her back.
"They go."
A line of streamers blew from the foremast of the _Nausicaae_ as the piperon the flag-ship gave the time to the oars. The triple line of blades,pumiced white, splashed with a steady rhythm. The long black hull glidedaway. The trailing line of consorts swiftly followed. From the hill andthe quays a shout uprose from the thousands, to be answered by thefleet,--a cheer or a prayer to sea-ruling Poseidon those who gave it hardlyknew. The people stood silent till the last dark hull crept around thesouthern headland; then, still in silence, the multitudes dissolved. Theyoung and the strong had gone from them. For Athens this was the beginningof the war.
Hermione and Lysistra awaited Hermippus before setting homeward, but theEleusinian was delayed. The fleet had vanished. The havens were empty. InCleopis's arms little Phoenix wept. His mother was anxious to be gone, whenshe was surprised to see a figure climbing the almost deserted slope. Amoment more and she was face to face with Democrates, who advancedoutstretching his hand and smiling.
The orator wore the dress of his new office of strategus. The purple-edgedcloak, the light helmet wreathed with myrtle, the short sword at his side,all became him well. If there were deeper lines about his face than on theday Hermione last saw him, even an enemy would confess a leader of theAthenians had cause to be thoughtful. He was cordially greeted by Lysistraand seemed not at all abashed that Hermione gave only a sullen nod. Fromthe ladies he turned with laughter to Cleopis and her burden.
"A new Athenian!" spoke he, lightly, "and I fear Xerxes will have beenchased away before he has a chance to prove his valour. But fear not,there will be more brave days in store."
Hermione shook her head, ill-pleased.
"Blessed be Hera, my babe is too young to know aught of wars. And if wesurvive this one, will not just Zeus spare us from further bloodshed?"
Democrates, without answering, approached the nurse, and Phoenix--forreasons best known to himself--ceased lamenting and smiled up in theorator's face.
"His mother's features and eyes," cried Democrates. "I swear it--ay, by allAthena's owls--that young Hermes when he lay in Maia's cave on Mt. Cylenewas not finer or lustier than he. His mother's face and eyes, I say."
"His father's," corrected Hermione. "Is not his name Phoenix? In him willnot Glaucon the Beautiful live again? Will he not grow to man's estate toavenge his murdered father?" The lady spoke without passion, but with acold bitterness that made Democrates cease from smiling. He turned awayfrom the babe.
"Forgive me, dear lady," he answered her, "I am wiser at ruling theAthenians than at ruling children, but I see nothing of Glaucon about thebabe, though much of his beautiful mother."
"You had once a better memory, Democrates," said Hermione, reproachfully.
"I do not understand your Ladyship."
"I mean that Glaucon has been dead one brief year. Can you forget _his_face in so short a while?"
But here Lysistra interposed with all good intent.
"You are fond and foolish, Hermione, and like all young mothers areenraged if all the world does not see his father's image in theirfirst-born."
"Democrates knows what I would say," said the younger woman, soberly.
"Since your Ladyship is pleased to speak in riddles and I am no seer nororacle-monger, I must confess I cannot follow. But we will contend no moreconcerning little Phoenix. Enough that he will grow up fair as the DelianApollo and an unspeakable joy to his mother."
"Her only joy," was Hermione's icy answer. "Wrap
up the child, Cleopis. Myfather is coming. It is a long walk home to the city."
With a rustle of white Hermione went down the slope in advance of hermother. Hermippus and Lysistra were not pleased. Plainly their daughterkept all her prejudice against Democrates. Her cold contempt was moredisappointing even than open fury.
Once at home Hermione held little Phoenix long to her heart and wept overhim. For the sake of her dead husband's child, if for naught else, howcould she suffer them to give her to Democrates? That the orator haddestroyed Glaucon in black malice had become a corner-stone in her belief.She could at first give for it only a woman's reason--blind intuition. Shecould not discuss her conviction with her mother or with any save astrange confidant--Phormio.
She had met the fishmonger in the Agora once when she went with the slavesto buy a mackerel. The auctioneer had astonished everybody by knockingdown to her a noble fish an obol under price, then under pretext ofshowing her a rare Boeotian eel got her aside into his booth and whispereda few words that made the red and white come and go from her cheeks, afterwhich the lady's hand went quickly to her purse, and she spoke quick wordsabout "the evening" and "the garden gate."
Phormio refused the drachma brusquely, but kept the tryst. Cleopis had thekey to the garden, and would contrive anything for her mistress--especiallyas all Athens knew Phormio was harmless save with his tongue. That eveningfor the first time Hermione heard the true story of Glaucon's escape bythe _Solon_, but when the fishmonger paused she hung down her head closer.
"You saved him, then? I bless you. But was the sea more merciful than theexecutioner?"
The fishmonger let his voice fall lower.
"Democrates is unhappy. Something weighs on his mind. He is afraid."
"Of what?"
"Bias his slave came to see me again last night. Many of his master'sdoings have been strange to him. Many are riddles still, but one thing atlast is plain. Hiram has been to see Democrates once more, despite theprevious threats. Bias listened. He could not understand everything, buthe heard Lycon's name passed many times, then one thing he caught clearly.'_The Babylonish carpet-seller was the Prince Mardonius._' 'The Babylonianfled on the _Solon_.' 'The Prince is safe in Sardis.' If Mardonius couldescape the storm and wreck, why not Glaucon, a king among swimmers?"
Hermione clapped her hands to her head.
"Don't torture me. I've long since trodden out hope. Why has he sent me noword in all these months of pain?"
"It is not the easiest thing to get a letter across the AEgean in thesedays of roaring war."
"I dare not believe it. What else did Bias hear?"
"Very little. Hiram was urging something. Democrates always said,'Impossible.' Hiram went away with a very sour grin. However, Democratescaught Bias lurking."
"And flogged him?"
"No, Bias ran into the street and cried out he would flee to the Temple ofTheseus, the slave's sanctuary, and demand that the archon sell him to akinder master. Then suddenly Democrates forgave him and gave him fivedrachmae to say no more about it."
"And so Bias at once told you?" Hermione could not forbear a smile, buther gesture was of desperation. "O Father Zeus--only the testimony of aslave to lean on, I a weak woman and Democrates one of the chief men inAthens! O for strength to wring out all the bitter truth!"
"Peace, _kyria_," said Phormio, not ungently, "Aletheia, Mistress Truth,is a patient dame, but she says her word at last. And you see that hope isnot quite dead."
"I dare not cherish it. If I were but a man!" repeated Hermione. But shethanked Phormio many times, would not let him refuse her money, and badehim come often again and bring her all the Agora gossip about the war."For we are friends," she concluded; "you and I are the only persons whohold Glaucon innocent in all the world. And is that not tie enough?"
So Phormio came frequently, glad perhaps to escape the discipline of hisspouse. Now he brought a rumour of Xerxes's progress, now a bit of Bias'stattling about his master. The talebearing counted for little, but went tomake Hermione's conviction like adamant. Every night she would speak overPhoenix as she held him whilst he slept.
"Grow fast, _makaire_, grow strong, for there is work for you to do! Yourfather cries, 'Avenge me well,' even from Hades."
* * * * * * *
After the departure of the fleet Athens seemed silent as the grave. On thestreets one met only slaves and graybeards. In the Agora the hucksters'booths were silent, but little groups of white-headed men sat in theshaded porticos and watched eagerly for the appearing of the archon beforethe government house to read the last despatch of the progress of Xerxes.The Pnyx was deserted. The gymnasia were closed. The more superstitiousscanned the heavens for a lucky or unlucky flight of hawks. Thepriestesses sang litanies all day and all night on the Acropolis where thegreat altar to Athena smoked with victims continually. At last, after thedays of uncertainty and wavering rumour, came surer tidings of battles.
"Leonidas is fighting at Thermopylae. The fleets are fighting atArtemisium, off Euboea. The first onsets of the Barbarians have failed, butnothing is decided."
This was the substance, and tantalizingly meagre. And the strong army ofSparta and her allies still tarried at the Isthmus instead of hasting toaid the pitiful handful at Thermopylae. Therefore the old men wagged theirheads, the altars were loaded with victims, and the women wept over theirchildren.
So ended the first day after news came of the fighting. The second waslike it--only more tense. Hermione never knew that snail called time tocreep more slowly. Never had she chafed more against the iron custom whichcommanded Athenian gentlewomen to keep, tortoise-like, at home in days ofdistress and tumult. On the evening of the second day came once more thedusty courier. Leonidas was holding the gate of Hellas. The Barbarians hadperished by thousands. At Artemisium, Themistocles and the allied Greekadmirals were making head against the Persian armadas. But still nothingwas decided. Still the Spartan host lingered at the Isthmus, and Leonidasmust fight his battle alone. The sun sank that night with tens ofthousands wishing his car might stand fast. At gray dawn Athens was awakeand watching. Men forgot to eat, forgot to drink. One food would havecontented--news!
* * * * * * *
It was about noon--"the end of market time," had there been any market thenat Athens--when Hermione knew by instinct that news had come from thebattle and that it was evil. She and her mother had sat since dawn by theupper window, craning forth their heads up the street toward the Agora,where they knew all couriers must hasten. Along the street in all thehouses other women were peering forth also. When little Phoenix cried inhis cradle, his mother for the first time in his life almost angrily badehim be silent. Cleopis, the only one of the fluttering servants who wentplacidly about the wonted tasks, vainly coaxed her young mistress withfigs and a little wine. Hermippus was at the council. The street, save forthe leaning heads of the women, was deserted. Then suddenly came a change.
First a man ran toward the Agora, panting,--his himation blew from hisshoulders, he never stopped to recover it. Next shouts, scattered in thebeginning, then louder, and coming not as a roar but as a wailing, rising,falling like the billows of the howling sea,--as if the thousands in themarket-place groaned in sore agony. Shrill and hideous they rose, and ahand of ice fell on the hearts of the listening women. Then more runners,until the street seemed alive by magic, slaves and old men all crowding tothe Agora. And still the shout and ever more dreadful. The women leanedfrom the windows and cried vainly to the trampling crowd below.
"Tell us! In the name of Athena, tell us!" No answer for long, till atlast a runner came not toward the Agora but from it. They had hardly needto hear what he was calling.
"Leonidas is slain. Thermopylae is turned! Xerxes is advancing!"
Hermione staggered back from the lattice. In the cradle Phoenix awoke;seeing his mother bending over him, he crowed cheerily and flung hischubby fists in her face. She caught him up and again could not fight thetear
s away.
"Glaucon! Glaucon!" she prayed,--for her husband was all but a deity in hersight,--"hear us wherever you are, even if in the blessed land ofRhadamanthus. Take us thither, your child and me, for there is no peace orshelter left on earth!"
Then, seeing her panic-stricken women flying hither and thither likewitless birds, her patrician blood asserted itself. She dashed the dropsfrom her eyes and joined her mother in quieting the maids. Whatever therewas to hope or fear, their fate would not be lightened by wild moaning.Soon the direful wailing from the Agora ceased. A blue flag waved over theCouncil House, a sign that the "Five Hundred" had been called in hurriedsession. Simultaneously a dense column of smoke leaped up from themarket-place. The archons had ordered the hucksters' booths to be burned,as a signal to all Attica that the worst had befallen.
After inexpressibly long waiting Phormio came, then Hermippus, to tell allthey knew. Leonidas had perished gloriously. His name was with theimmortals, but the mountain wall of Hellas had been unlocked. No Spartanarmy was in Boeotia. The bravest of Athens were in the fleet. The easyAttic passes of Phyle and Decelea could never be defended. Nothing couldsave Athens from Xerxes. The calamity had been foreseen, but to foresee isnot to realize. That night in Athens no man slept.