CHAPTER IX.
AT THERMOPYLÆ.
So far Cleanor's experiences had been distinctly disappointing. But hestill clung to his hopes, trying to comfort himself with the thoughtthat Greece meant much more than the little tract of country which borethe name. It was to be found in Egypt, in Syria, in the finest regionsof Lesser Asia; and the country from which the most powerful Greekinfluence had come forth was not Athens or Sparta, or any one of theancient states, but half-barbarous Macedonia. The next thing was to seewhat promise Macedonia held forth.
The season was now growing late for travel by sea, and Cleanor gladlyjoined a party which was about to make its way overland to Pella, theold capital of Macedonia. The route lay through a number of famousplaces. His study of history had long since made him familiar with theirnames and associations. They were now seen for the first time with themost vivid interest, an interest which reached its climax in the famousPass of Thermopylæ. The place, which has now been altered by the actionof nature and time almost beyond recognition, was then but littlechanged. The wall behind which the Greek army took up its position,though almost in ruins, was still to be seen; the mound upon which theimmortal Three Hundred made their last stand could easily be recognized.So could the tomb of the heroes, with the epitaph, so appropriate in itssimplicity and modesty,[21] which Simonides the poet had written for it.Close by was the separate sepulchre of the valiant king Leonidas, withan epitaph of its own not less happy.[22] Cleanor saw with regret thatthere was not enough of local patriotism to keep these memorials of asplendid past in decent repair. The letters of the inscriptions were sogrown over with moss that it was very difficult to decipher them. Someof the stones of the tomb of the Three Hundred were out of place; and itwould not be long, unless some repairs were done to it, before the wholemust fall into ruin. The lion, too, had a weather-beaten, almostdilapidated look. Some mischievous hand, possibly that of a collector ofrelics,--a class which was as unscrupulous in its greed for specimensthen as now,--had chipped off a portion from one of the ears. Thepedestal was covered with rudely carved initials, for this foolishpractice was as great a favourite with idle hands in the ancient worldas it is now.
The young man was meditating sadly on the want of public spirit thatsuffered so scandalous a neglect of national glories, when he receivedanother rude shock to his feelings. Something had been said in thecourse of the morning's march--it was about noon when they halted in thePass--about the tribesmen near Thermopylæ not having the best ofcharacters, but it had been in a half-jesting way, and Cleanor had paidlittle attention to the remark. Nor had he noticed that the party,which, indeed, had soon exhausted its slender interest in the place, hadgone some distance further to make their halt for the noonday meal inthe open country beyond the Gates.[23] He was roused from a fit ofmusing by feeling a hand laid roughly on his shoulder. In a moment thechance words of the morning came back to him. He swung himself violentlyaside, and so released himself from the grasp of the intruder. Instantlyfacing about he dealt the man a heavy blow straight from the shoulder,which tumbled him to the ground. But he was unarmed, except for a shortdagger which he carried in his belt, and which was meant to serve for afeast rather than for a fray. And he was overmatched. For the moment,indeed, he was free; his assailant had been alone. But looking up anddown the Pass he saw small parties of armed men advancing in bothdirections. Flight, too, was impossible, for the rocks rose sheer oneither side of him. There was nothing to be done but to submit to hisfate, which manifestly was to be captured by bandits. Throwing hisdagger to the ground, he held up his hands in token of surrender.
A man somewhat better clad and better armed than his companions--theywere a ragged, ill-equipped set--advanced from one of the approachingparties and accosted our hero. Nothing could be more polite than hismanner of address.
"You will excuse us, sir," he said, "for detaining you for a short time.Nothing but the exigencies of business could have induced us to put youto any inconvenience."
The fellow whom Cleanor had knocked down had regained his feet, and wascoming up with a threatening air.
"Be quiet, Laches," said the leader. "My friend did nothing but what wasquite right and natural. You took a great liberty. To put your hand upona gentleman's shoulder indeed! And your blow, sir, was well delivered,"he went on, turning to Cleanor. "It was not the first time, I fancy,that you have used your fists. A very pretty stroke indeed! I am quitedelighted to offer such poor hospitality as I have at command to soaccomplished a guest. I have your promise, I suppose, not to attempt toleave us till we have improved our acquaintance somewhat. I have beenobliged now and then to handcuff a friend who was so modest as to wishto withdraw. But you, sir, I know, will accept my friendship as franklyas it is offered."
Cleanor was not sure whether this elaborate civility was an improvementon the more brutal manners of the average bandit, but thought it best toaccept the situation with as much show of good-humour as he couldmanage. "I shall be delighted," he said, "to improve my acquaintancewith this most interesting country of yours. But I have importantbusiness on hand at Pella, and to business even the most attractivepleasures must be postponed."
"I shall be delighted to fall in with your views," replied the brigandchief, with an elaborate bow, "though I cannot but regret that anythingshould shorten your visit."
After proceeding down the Pass for some two hundred yards, the partyturned into a path on the right-hand side, and began to climb a somewhatsteep ascent.
"This is the very path, sir," said the chief, "by which Ephialtesbrought the Persians to take King Leonidas and his army in the rear.That villainous traitor was, I regret to say, a native of Malia, theonly dishonest man that the place has ever produced. I myself have thehonour of having been born there."
An hour's smart walking brought the party to a small grassy plateau.Here they left the path, and, making their way through a clump of ilex,reached the entrance to a cavern in the mountain side. The entrance wasnarrow, and so low that a man of even moderate stature had to stoopbefore he could pass under it; but the cavern was spacious and lofty.
"My men's quarters," said the chief, with a wave of the hand; "ratherdark, as you see, but dry, and fairly warm. My own apartment is a littlefurther this way."
Another doorway, not unlike that by which they had entered, led from thelarger into a smaller cavern. This, as Cleanor observed, could be shutoff by a thick door solidly backed with iron.
"I like to be by myself now and then," explained the chief. "Ourfriends, too, are sometimes a little boisterous in their mirth, and thenoise interferes with my studies."
The arrangement, it occurred to Cleanor, served for protection as wellas retirement. The smaller cave had also, he concluded from a ray oflight which made its way through the wall, a separate exit.
It had been furnished with some attempt at comfort. There was a couch inone of the corners; in the middle, round a hearth on which a few stickswere smouldering, coverlets and skins were piled. A couple ofhunting-spears, a bow, and a quiver hung on the walls, and a curtaincould be drawn over the door that led into the outer cave.
"Welcome to my home!" said the chief; "a poor place; but better men havebeen worse lodged. If you have any money, you had better let me takecare of it. My men are not bad fellows on the whole, but you must nottrust them too far. They are common Phocians, you must know, not men ofMalia."
Cleanor had again to make a virtue of necessity. He had taken theprecaution of sending a remittance on to Pella, to await his arrival atthat place, and carried about with him little more than what would bewanted on the journey. This--some twenty gold pieces--he had in apurse-girdle round his waist,[24] which he now produced and handed tothe chief. The man examined it, not without first making an apology, andcounted the coins. Cleanor fancied that his face fell somewhat atfinding that they were so few. His manner, however, continued to be asgay and friendly as before, and the talk, which he poured forth in anunceasing stream, as intelligent as it was amusing.
; "The sun must be nearly setting," he said, looking upwards at theaperture in the roof--long practice had enabled him to guess the time ofday very accurately by the variation in the light--"and you must beready by this time for dinner. 'Tis but a humble repast I can offer you,but you can understand that we have to rough it up here. My neighbours,however, are very kind, and we always have enough, though the qualitynow and then leaves something to be desired."
Opening the door that communicated between the two caves, he called toLaches--the same, it will be remembered, with whom Cleanor had had acollision earlier in the day.
"Tell Persis," he said, "to let us have something to eat as soon aspossible. You will join us, Laches," he added, "when it is ready, if bychance you have any appetite left.
"I thought it as well," he explained, "to do away with any littlesoreness there may be in the man's mind. He will be ready to sweareternal friendship over a flask of wine."
Before long a wrinkled old woman, who looked quite the ideal cook of arobbers' cave, brought in a smoking dish of roast kid, garnished withonions. Flat cakes of what we should call "damper" served as bread, forthe latter, as the chief explained, could seldom be made for want ofyeast. A jug of red wine of the country was drawn from a cask whichstood in a corner of the cave, to be succeeded at the proper time by aflask of stately dimensions, which contained a rich vintage from Lesbos.
"This," said the chief, "my good friend Clarilaus, eparch of Larissa,was kind enough to supply me with."
Cleanor opened his eyes. Farmers and shepherds might find it worthwhile to buy the brigand's forbearance by a toll from their flocks, butwas such a dignitary as an eparch content to pay blackmail? The chiefsmiled.
"Perhaps I might explain," he said, "that we came across the eparch'swagon as it was on its way to Larissa from the coast. As there wasclearly more wine than he could use--it is the one fault of Lesbian winethat it does not keep very well--I took it for granted that some musthave been meant for me. He is famous for his taste in wine, and I thinkyou will own that this does him credit."
It was soon evident that the Lesbian wine had strength as well asflavour, for the two brigands became very communicative as the flaskgrew lighter.
"Tell us your story, Laches," said the chief. "It always puts me inbetter conceit with myself to hear it. This life of ours here is notexactly the ideal. My old master at the Academy, Philippus, wouldscarcely have approved of it. Yes, my young friend, I too have been inArcadia, or rather, I should say, in Athens, though I may not look likeit; but I always console myself by thinking that there are worse thievesthan I am. Go on, Laches."
The man's tale ran thus:--
"I was a shepherd by occupation. My father was a shepherd; so had hisfather before him been, and his father too, for many generations. Yes,for many hundred years, but not always. There was a tradition in thefamily that we had been princes once, owning all the land over which theflocks we cared for grazed, and a great deal more. We believed that wewere descended from the great Thessalus[25] himself. Well, we werefairly content. Our master was a gay young fellow, a little thoughtless,and too ready with his hands if things did not go quite as he wished,but kind and generous. Poor fellow! he was killed by a wild-boar. Totell the truth, he had taken a cup too much. It was his habit, and a badhabit too--a very bad habit."
Laches was quite sincere, though his own utterance had grown a littlethick.
"We had found a boar in the morning, and lost him. After the mid-daymeal--he would finish the flask of heady Chian--we found the bruteagain. My master threw one of his two hunting-spears, and wounded him inthe shoulder. He was a little flurried, and he threw it too soon, andwith a bad aim. The boar charged, and my master knelt on one knee toreceive it. Flurried again, and the spear not quite straight. I wasrunning as hard as I could, but it was too late. When I came up, he waslying on the ground, with as bad a wound in the thigh as ever I saw. Hewas dead before you could count twenty.
"Then our troubles began. The master was not married, and all theproperty went to an uncle, the meanest old skinflint in Thessaly. He hadbeen a spendthrift, they said, in his young days; such men always makethe worst kind of misers, I have heard. Anyhow, he was as bad as hecould be. He hadn't been in possession for a week when he began to cutus short in everything. We used to be allowed half a drachma[26] forevery lamb that we reared. This was taken away. Not only that, but wehad to make good all that died. 'Your fault,' he would say; 'your fault;a quite healthy lamb.' All the lambs, according to him, were quitehealthy. It was the same if one was killed by a wolf, and there are aterrible lot of wolves in that part of the country. What used to be ourbest time, the lambing season, came to be the worst. There was verylittle of our wages left by the time that we had made good all thelosses. Then he charged us for every stick of wood that we picked up. Wewere not allowed to catch a fish or snare a bird. We had to buy ourflour at his mill; damp, chalky stuff it was, more like bird-lime thanflour. Sour wine, rotten cloth, stinking salt-fish--we had to buy themall of him. At every turn the villain made a profit out of us. As forour wages, it was the rarest thing for us to see an obol[27] of them.Most months he made out the balance to be on the wrong side."
"Well, to cut the story short, we got pretty deeply into his debt, mypoor father and I. What does the scoundrel do but take my sister--asgood and as pretty a girl as there was in the whole country--to be soldas a slave, in payment of the debt, he said. He took care to do thisvillainy when we--I mean the girl's husband that was to be and I--werewith the sheep on the summer pastures in the hills. A nice home-comingwe had; my old father dead--he had a stroke the day when his daughterwas carried away, dying in an hour,--and my sister gone. She wrenchedherself out of the hands of the slave-dealer as they were crossing thePeneus, threw herself into the river, and was drowned--the best thingthat could happen to her, poor girl!
"You can guess the end, I dare say. The villain, my master, was founddead in his bed--his throat cut from ear to ear--three days afterwards.They caught Agathon--that was the lover, you understand--and crucifiedhim. And I am here."
"But," cried Cleanor, "are there no laws?"
"Laws!" answered the chief; "laws in plenty. But the question is--whoadministers them?"
"The Romans, I suppose," replied Cleanor.
"I only wish they did," was the unexpected answer. "We might get somesort of justice then. No; they leave the matter in the hands of therich, and there is only one in a hundred who has a spark of conscienceor pity in him. Mark this, young sir. I have twelve men in my band, andthere is not one of them but has a story to tell as bad as what Lacheshere has told us. And in every one of them the oppressor has been one ofour own people. And now, doubtless, you will be ready for sleep."
Sleep was long in coming that night to the young man, and his thoughtswere full of gloom. He could not but feel some fears for himself. Hiscaptors, it is true, were civil and even friendly; but he knew that suchpeople conducted their affairs on strict business principles, and thatone invariable principle was to get rid of a prisoner whose ransom wasnot forthcoming in good time. He had funds, indeed, in the hands of amerchant at Pella, but how was he to identify himself? And hisexperiences hitherto had been very dispiriting. Whatever he might findelsewhere, so far he had not met with the vigorous, united, patrioticGreece of which he had dreamed.
It was late before he fell asleep, and then his slumber was light andtroubled. Just as the day was showing he was roused by the chief.
"Get up," said the man, "there is no time to be lost, if you don't wantto be choked like a rat in a hole."
Cleanor started to his feet. Thin coils of smoke were finding their waythrough the crevices of the doorway between the two caves and throughvarious fissures in the wall. Dazed by the suddenness of his rousing helooked to the chief for an explanation.
"Don't you understand? They have tracked us, and now they are smoking usout. I am not going to leave my men. They're a rough lot, but they havestuck faithfully to me, and I will stick to them. But that is not
hing toyou. You have got time to escape; don't waste it. You will find somesteps cut in the far side of the cave. Follow them; they will take youto a hole near the roof just big enough for you to creep through. Thatis the entrance to a narrow passage which leads to the top of the hill.No one knows it but myself; it was well to have my own way of gettingout. But I am not going to use it now. Take care how you go; the passageis pitch dark, and has some dangerous places in it. And here is yourpurse. I am sorry to have hindered you in your journey. We took you forsomething quite different from what you are. Still you have learntsomething. If you can, think kindly of us. Even a set of rascallyrobbers may have something to say for themselves."
There was no time to be lost in talking. Cleanor scrambled with littledifficulty to the entrance of the passage. But the passage itself was anawful experience. As the chief had said, it was pitch dark, and theGreek had to feel his way as he crept along on hands and knees. Twice hefound the path come to what seemed an abrupt end in what he supposed tobe a chasm, for he heard far below him the sound of falling water. Butexploring the wall on the left hand he found a ledge just broad enoughto allow him to creep along. At last, after what seemed hours of anxioustoil--he found afterwards that the time was much less than it seemed--hesaw a faint speck of light in the distance. Before long he reached theopen air on the hillside, at the height of some four hundred feet abovethe plain.
It was not long before Cleanor fell in with a peasant. The man was awareof what had happened. He had seen the Thessalian troops on their march,and seeing the smoke rising from the hillside had guessed the tacticswhich they had employed. It was plain from the man's talk that therobbers were not unpopular in the district. As a rule they had paid, andpaid liberally, for supplies. In short, they had been regarded, as suchpeople often have been before and since, as friends of the poor. The mantook Cleanor by a short cut into the highroad, and so enabled him toovertake his party, which reached Pella without further adventure. Thebanditti, as he heard during his stay in Macedonia, had fallen to a manin a desperate sally which they had made against the attacking party.
FOOTNOTES:
21: It ran thus:
"Go tell to Sparta, thou that passest by, That here obedient to her laws we lie".
22: "Bravest of beasts am I, who watch the grave Of him that, living, was of men most brave. Lion he was alike in name and heart, Else had I ne'er endured the watcher's part."
23: Thermopylæ--the Hot Gates; so called from the hot springs found in the neighbourhood.
24: The same Greek word stands for "purse" and "girdle". The old-fashioned long silk purse is an interesting survival of this ancient custom. Those who lead lives of adventure still carry their money in a belt fastened round the waist.
25: The legendary hero, son of Hæmon, from whom Thessalia was supposed to have received its name.
26: About fourpence farthing.
27: About five farthings; six obols went to the drachma.
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