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There are times when I long to pray the god, ‘Give to me wings, eagle wings from Zeus’s own bird, and let me go to the ends of the earth, and there in some charmed valley I may find at last the spring of Lethe water, the water of forgetfulness that gives peace.’ ” Roxana looked on him; pity was in her eyes, and he knew he was taking pleasure in her pitying.
When the warm spring came, the eunuchs carried him in a sedan-chair through the palace garden, whence he could look forth on the plain, the city, the snow-clad hills, and think he was on Zeus’s Olympian throne, surveying all the earth. Then it was he learned the Persian speech, and easily, for were not his teachers Artazostra and Roxana?
On her right hand hovered a winged Victory, on her shoulder rested an owl, at her feet twined a wise serpent, in her left hand she bore the ægis, the shaggy goat-skin engirt with snakes—emblem of Zeus’s lightnings. Glaucon knew that she was Athena Polias, the Warder of Athens, and lifted his hands to adore her. But she only looked on him in silent anger. Fire seemed leaping from her eyes.
“What do you desire?” he said thickly, at last. “Let my Lord then hearken—” began the Phœnician, to be interrupted by the sudden advent of Bias. “The Scythians are at the door, kyrie,” he was shouting; “shall I order them in and drag this lizard out by the tail?” “No, in Zeus’s name, no! Bid them keep without. And do you go also. This honest fellow is on private business which only I must hear.”
If Leonidas slew him on the spot, again no matter, life with an eternally gnawing conscience could be bought on too hard terms. He knew, as though Zeus’s messenger Iris had spoken it, that Hermione had never believed him guilty, that she had been in all things true to him. He could never betray her trust. His head now was clear and calm.
We may recall, amongst many variants of the theme, the story of the celebrated expedition of the Athenians to the Island of Scyros to find and recover the body of Theseus. Theseus, being a hero, the agent employed in the quest must likewise be distinguished, and so the eagle, Zeus’s bird, is alone thought worthy to peck the earth and indicate the resting-place of the demi-god.
They had seen their officers gather in the cabin, and Dame Rumour, subtlest of Zeus’s messengers, had breathed “ill-tidings.” Now the admiral stood forth, and in few words told all the heavy tale. Again a great shout, whilst the bronzed men groaned on the benches. “Democrates is a traitor!”
Only imperfectly he himself knew how complete was the severance from his old life. The terrible hour at Colonus had made a mark on his spirit which not all Zeus’s power could take away. No doubt all the one-time friends believed him dead. Had Hermione’s confidence in him remained true? Would she not say “guilty” at last with all the rest?
“Peace!” ordered Glaucon, as if starting from a long revery, and with a sweep of his wonderful hands; “let the Medes, the Persians, and their war wait. For me the only war is the pentathlon,—and then by Zeus’s favour the victory, the glory, the return to Eleusis! Ah—wish me joy!” “Verily, the man is mad,” reflected the poet; “he lives in his own bright world, sufficient to himself.
Give my soul peace,—and in reward, I swear it by the Styx, by Zeus’s own oath, I will build in your honour a temple by your sacred field at Colonus, where men shall gather to reverence you forever.” But here he ceased. In the darkness moved something white. Again a flapping. He was sure the white thing was Glaucon’s face. Glaucon had perished at sea.
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