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Updated: May 7, 2025
Over the top of the walls he looked down at the city with tender solicitude. "Stranger," he continued, "my name is Alcon, and my friends call me 'the Prudent. The old men of the Senate give heed to my counsels; but the young men will not listen to them.
He hurried toward Alcon who, leaning on his staff, greeted him with a kindly smile. Actæon, finding himself once more alone wandered through the centre of the market. Suddenly he heard a youthful voice calling him. It was Rhanto, sitting on the ground among the pitchers which were now empty of milk, selling her last cheeses. Near her squatted the young potter.
Actæon entered the temple alone. The number of Ancients had diminished. Some had died, victims of hunger and pestilence; others, with juvenile ardor, had rushed forth to defend the walls, and there encountered death. The prudent Alcon seemed to enjoy great ascendancy, and he figured at the head of the assembly.
Alcon, thinking he could effect something by entreaties, having passed over, without the knowledge of the Saguntines, to Hannibal by night, when his tears produced no effect, and harsh conditions were offered as from an exasperated conqueror, becoming a deserter instead of an advocate, remained with the enemy; affirming that the man would be put to death who should treat for peace on such terms.
Events had justified the prudence which had caused him in other days to declare against the warlike enterprises of the city and their fondness for alliances. "Speak, Actæon," said Alcon. "Tell us the truth, the whole truth! After the misfortunes the gods have already sent us, we can bear even greater."
Through the open door the guests caught glimpses of the columns of the peristyle, and of a strip of dark blue sky in which twinkled many stars. The pacific Alcon rising up in his couch, smiled with the amiability of mild intoxication, gazing at the splendor of the firmament. "I drink to the beauty of our city!" he said, raising the horn filled with wine.
These once removed, one slave, tucked high with a purple cloth, wiped the maple table, and a second gathered up whatever lay useless, and whatever could offend the guests; swarthy Hydaspes advances like an Attic maid with Ceres' sacred rites, bearing wines of Caecubum; Alcon brings those of Chios, undamaged by the sea. Ill-fated riches!
Alcon was searching for a place on the wall of which he had been told by some of the Elders who were more familiar with the Acropolis. When they had found it the Saguntine groped in the dark until he reached the end of a heavy rope fastened to a merlon, and he flung it over into space. The departure took place in absolute secret.
The slight chance of a peace was then tried by two persons; Alcon a Saguntine, and Alorcus a Spaniard.
Actæon was in the first rank; near him he saw the prudent Alcon, who had exchanged his staff for a sword, and many of the peace-loving merchants whose astute faces seemed ennobled by the heroic resolution to die rather than give passage to the enemy. When the besiegers advanced to the assault they had to clash with the entire city.
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