“athens, the stately-walled, magnificent!”
pindar.
the sun sank in an unclouded blaze, but with the approach of evening the toilers did not cease. the builders of the pyramids of egypt could boast no greater zeal than that with which the athenians fortified their city. men, women and children, rich, middle-class and poor worked together for the attainment of but one end; the erection of a wall about their city which would protect it from over-ambitious states and cities. stones from partly demolished buildings, broken pieces of statuary, the debris of structures once the pride of every loyal athenian, added bit by bit to the work of defense.
zopyrus labored near the diomean gate lifting the large stones into places which had been freshly spread with mortar by the women and children. in vain his eyes searched the throng for a figure, the memory of which occupied his thoughts almost constantly since salamis. he had worked at different sections of the wall in the hope that somewhere he would see her employed in the common task of all, but though he anxiously scanned a thousand faces during the course of his labor, hers was not among them.
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a young man at his side nudged his elbow. “by tomorrow at this time the wall should be of sufficient height for aristides and his companion to leave for sparta to join themistocles who awaits them.”
zopyrus agreed with the youth’s statement and added, “it was a clever scheme of themistocles to go to sparta apparently to argue about the feasibility of building a wall around athens, the while he planned to have all athenians erect such a wall. by having aristides delay in joining him he made it possible for us to get the wall to a height sufficient for defense.”
“themistocles is very clever, no doubt,” replied his companion, “but the calm judgment of aristides is not to be discredited.”
“of course not,” said zopyrus, “but it is the wit of themistocles which will frustrate the ambitions of sparta this time. aristides is like the moon which is now rising on the other side of the city, as compared with the sun, themistocles.”
at this moment abronychus, a youth whom zopyrus had met after the battle of platæa, approached the two with a friendly clap upon the shoulder of each.
“zopyrus and lysimachus! i am glad to see you two together. in my mind i have always associated you as men of like temperament.”
“but,” said zopyrus jocosely, “an argument has engaged us both up to the present moment. your friend puts much confidence in the opinions of aristides, while i maintain themistocles to be the superior of the two.”
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abronychus’ smile spread into a broad grin. turning to lysimachus he said, “your father wishes to talk with you at once. i met him at the shop of aphobus where he awaits you.”
as the figure of lysimachus disappeared in the crowd zopyrus remarked, “a likely young fellow. i liked his upright manner, though his opinions differed from mine.”
“his father summons him,” said the other, “that he may bid farewell before leaving in the morning, at least twelve hours before he expected to make the trip. you see his father is aristides who is to join themistocles at sparta.”
“aristides his father!” exclaimed the crest-fallen zopyrus. “well i like him and hope he will not resent my remarks.”
“if i know lysimachus,” said the other, “he will take no offense at what you said. i hope you will see him again. he has worked near the diomean gate ever since the wall was commenced. your energies have not been so concentrated, for if i remember correctly, i have seen you at the gate of diocharus and upon another occasion you were unloading stones at the north of the city beyond the acharman gate.”
“i will tell you the reason for my scattered efforts, though i maintain i have worked diligently wherever i happened to be. i began at the east side of the city, working near the different gates, a half day at a time and traveling northward. i am searching for a girl whom i met at the time of the battle of salamis. i have not seen her since, and i know not where to find her.”
“her name?” inquired abronychus.
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“alas i did not ask it, but her face i can not forget! eyes that reflect the heaven’s blue, straight brows, delicately chiseled nose, a mouth that——.”
abronychus threw up his hands in deprecation. “i have not seen her, or i have seen hundreds of her! which shall i say, my friend? i must be going now and i wish you success in your search for the missing lady.”
after the departure of abronychus, zopyrus toiled lifting rocks and pieces of masonry. it was with a feeling of ineffable relief that he heard the orders of the night-guard and saw that others were coming to take the places of those who had labored since mid-afternoon. presently an approaching female figure caught his eye and in an instant he recognized ladice whom he had rescued from the coarse persian officer. she was conversing with an older woman and zopyrus tried to attract her attention, for from her he hoped to learn the identity of her companion on the acropolis. the tired workers in their eagerness to get to their homes for rest, pressed between him and ladice, and he soon lost sight of her. he was pleased to know that she had reached athens in safety, but his heart was filled with anxiety for the maiden whom he had rescued on the acropolis.
as zopyrus passed the sacred gate he glanced down the broad white road that he had followed the day he bore in his arms the unconscious greek girl. the moon back of him shed its soft ethereal light over a scene that had recurred to him again and again in memory. moved by an unexplainable impulse, he passed through the city-gate and pursued his course along the road that stretched luringly into the distance, bordered by the dusky shadows of olive trees.
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scarcely had he proceeded a furlong when he became aware of a figure several paces ahead. the man, for so it proved to be, was lost in thought and walked slowly, his head bent forward in meditation. zopyrus’ first impulse was to return to the city, but something familiar in the man’s dress and figure arrested his notice, so he carried out his original intention of taking a moonlight stroll along the sacred way. before the man turned zopyrus had recognized the poet aeschylus and simultaneously with the recognition came a feeling of joy that this much revered man could be his companion upon such an occasion. aeschylus recognized the youth as he approached and placed an arm across his shoulders as together they proceeded to the northwest.
for some moments only the sound of their sandals on the stony pavement broke the stillness, but at length zopyrus asked: “did this road stretching into the distance lure you too as you passed the gate?”
“it always entices me, for it is the way to my home. i live at eleusis.”
zopyrus expressed no little surprise, for he had always thought of aeschylus as a native of athens.
“i had planned to move to athens,” continued the poet, “so my elder son could attend the academy, but god saw fit to snatch him forever from me in the late war with the oriental barbarians.”
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aeschylus stood a moment, his head bent forward, his attitude that of a man in complete subjection to a master. zopyrus imagined that his lips moved but there was no sound forthcoming. then there came to the persian the memory of the maiden’s prayer, followed by the song from a myriad unseen throats, the mighty pæan that had saved greece. zopyrus as he watched the poet in silence knew that he too prayed. when the latter raised his head zopyrus said tensely: “your prayer is the second of its kind that i have seen. it ascends straight to god—“—then after a moment’s pause, “tell me how do you explain the miracle of salamis?”
aeschylus gazed long and earnestly into the eyes of the young man before he answered.
“it was a word from the invisible, unapproachable spirit of the universe.”
zopyrus was greatly moved by the poet’s words.
“you believe that in great crises zeus will help those whom he believes to be in the right?”
“yes, but i believe that this god must have been approached by a devout suppliant, and that this was his answer to an earnest prayer.”
“aeschylus,” said the young man, and he stood and faced his companion so that the moon shone full into his face revealing his emotion, “i was myself a witness, the only one, to the prayer that saved greece.”
“you a witness to such a prayer!” exclaimed the incredulous poet.
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zopyrus nodded, then as the two resumed their nocturnal promenade he related to the interested philosopher in detail, trying not to reveal his identity, the facts of his meeting with the girl upon whom he had not laid eyes for a year. after his narration had been concluded he was conscious of the fixed gaze of his companion upon him.
“zopyrus,” said aeschylus, “i have decided to begin work on a tragedy which will present the persian point of view and especially that of the royal family in this war, i would be very grateful would you acquaint me with many details of life at susa.”
zopyrus was startled. had his words or manner of speech betrayed him to the friend whom above all others he esteemed most highly? it was apparent that even if aeschylus did know him to be a persian by birth, he was neither rebuking nor condemning him for that fact, but rather was he mildly assuring him that his birth need be no detriment to him in his present surroundings. zopyrus believed that aeschylus was convinced of his sincerity in the present interests of greece.
“i shall be pleased to assist you in your great work,” he replied in a quiet tone. “having spent a few months out of each year at the persian court, i should know something of the persian view-point.”
“were you a servant or a member of the nobility?” questioned the poet quickly.
“must i tell you that?” asked the younger man.
“i should like to know.”
“very well, i am a cousin of king xerxes. my father was satrap of sardis and an own brother of darius hystaspis.”
the older man turned quickly and his brow clouded as he cried:—
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“what do you mean by parading in greek clothes and looking with love upon a maiden of hellas? think you that a pure lovely girl of our land would return the affections of a cousin of the profligate xerxes?”
zopyrus’ reply was made with becoming dignity. “i sincerely believe that the girl returns my affections, and as for my persian ancestry, what think you of my features?”
aeschylus’ expression of anger softened as he looked upon the young man’s face.
“there is the mystery,” he said in a puzzled voice, “i can think of no other than theseus when i behold you. your face is the type that characterizes our people.”
“from my departed mother have i inherited the features in which you behold a likeness to one of your national heroes, but not alone in face and form do i resemble the greeks, but in nature too am i truly one of you. my mother was a greek whose parents were members of the family of ceryces.”
“ceryces!” exclaimed aeschylus in surprise. “outside of the family of eumolpidæ, i know no better in all this fair land. i bid you welcome to greece and into our midst. i was not mistaken in my first impressions of you. will you overlook the hasty words i spoke a few minutes ago?”
“i was not offended,” replied zopyrus, “for i knew that after mature deliberation you would be convinced of the reality of my sincerity. my conscience has been my guide. i have always tried to obey it, thus keeping it ever sensitive.”
the poet smiled kindly into the earnest young face flushed with emotion.
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“young man, perfection lies in just that,” he said, “keeping the conscience sensitive. if you continue thus to strive after perfection in your youth you will be laying up virtues which will serve you in the crises of life which come later.”
“but i have often thought,” said zopyrus puzzled, “that sometimes it is very difficult to determine between virtues and vices. that may sound very strange to you who consider them to be exactly opposite, but occasionally even a sensitive conscience can not discriminate. it seems to me that virtues and vices are very closely allied. how easy it is for one who is the very soul of generosity to over-step the bound and become a spendthrift! might not one who possessed the virtue of thrift pass over the hair-breadth boundary into the vice of miserliness? might not one of a loving nature tend toward licentiousness if not watchful, or one of self-restraint become too cold? then again if one is neat and careful about one’s personal appearance might he not become vain if not watchful, or on the other hand if indifferent to the appearance of his body because the weightier matters of the soul concerned him more, might he not have the tendency to grow filthy and untidy in appearance? so it seems to me, my good aeschylus, that it takes a very alert and sensitive conscience indeed to distinguish between the so-called virtues and vices, and to pass judgment correctly.”
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“you are right, my boy, it does, and remember this; that in letting your conscience decide matters, you must not forget that no man lives unto himself, for everything he does affects another, but i see you are tired,” he said. “you have worked hard at the wall. in that you have done rightly, for toil is mankind’s greatest boon and life without industry is sin.”
zopyrus glanced toward the sky, “the moon is beginning its descent and i must return to the house of pasicles.”
“one moment before you go,” said the poet, laying a detaining hand upon the other’s arm, “you as a member of the ceryces family should be initiated into the divine mysteries of eleusis. had your departed mother never mentioned them to you?”
“as a very young child i remember my mother’s having mentioned, upon several occasions when we were alone, the eleusinian mysteries and my childish mind nourished by an exceptionally vivid imagination, dwelt a great deal upon the probable nature of these enigmatical rites.”
“at two months from this time when the moon is again in its fullness, i will act in the capacity of mystagogue for you. till then i will see you occasionally at athens in the home of our mutual friend. may the god who is powerful above all others protect you.”
with these words he was gone leaving zopyrus puzzled but greatly elated.
