CHAPTER XI.
RESCUED.
The execution of the generals was a blow of such severity that Calliaswas absolutely prostrated by it. As a patriotic Athenian he feltoverwhelmed both with shame and with despair. That his country should becapable of such ingratitude and folly, should allow private revenge orparty spite to deprive her of the generals who could lead her troops tovictory made it impossible to hope. The end must be near, for the godsmust have smitten her with the madness which they send upon those whomthey are determined to destroy. And then he had loved Diomedon almost asa son loves a father. Left an orphan at an early age he had found inthis kinsman an affectionate and loyal guardian; and he had made hisfirst acquaintance with war under his auspices. He had in him a friendwhom he felt it would be quite impossible to replace.
For some days Callias remained in strict seclusion at home, refusing allvisitors, and, in fact, seeing no one, except the aged house-steward,who had been now the faithful servant and friend of three generations ofhis family. Even when Hippocles himself, on the fifth day after thedisastrous meeting of the assembly, sent in an urgent request that hemight be allowed to see him, the steward was directed to meet him withthe same refusal. The old man contrary to his custom of prompt andunhesitating obedience, lingered in the room after he had received thisanswer, and was obviously anxious to speak. "Well! Lycides," said theyoung man, his attention attracted even in the midst of hispreoccupation by this unusual circumstance, "What is it? What do youwant?"
"It would be well, sir," replied the man, "if you would see the worthyHippocles. He declares that the affair of which he is come is one of thevery highest importance."
Callias simply shook his head.
The steward began again, "Oh! sir--"
Callius interrupted him. "You are an old man, and a friend whom myfather and my grandfather trusted, and I would not say a harsh word toyou. But if you will not leave the room, I must."
The old man's eyes filled with tears. He had never heard his youngmaster speak in such a tone before. Still he would not go, withoutmaking another effort.
He rapidly advanced to where his master was sitting, his face buried inhis hands, and throwing himself on the ground, caught the young man bythe knees.
"Listen, sir," he cried, "I implore you, by the gods, and by the memoryof your father and your grandfather, who both died in my arms."
"Speak on," cried Callias. "It seems I am not my own master any longer."
"Oh! sir," the old man continued, "your liberty, your life is indanger."
These words, uttered as they were in a tone of conviction that couldnot be mistaken, startled the young man out of the indifference whichhis profound depression had hardened.
"What do you mean?" he cried.
"I have known it since yesterday at noon," the steward replied, "andhave been anxiously thinking over with myself how I could best make itknown to you. And now Hippocles has come to say the same thing. For thesake of all the gods, trust and listen to what he has to tell you."
"Bring him in, if you will have it so," said Callias.
Hippocles came into the room with outstretched hands and caught theyoung man in a close embrace. The warmth and tenderness of this greetinghad the happiest result. Callias was moved from the stupor of griefwhich had overwhelmed him. Bowing his head on his friend's shoulder, heburst into a passion of tears,--for tears were a relief which the mostheroic souls of the ancient world did not refuse to themselves. Hisfriend allowed his feelings to express themselves without restraint, andthen as the violence of the young man's emotion began to subside, he putin a few words, instinct with heartfelt sympathy, about the friend whomthey had lost. Thus, with his usual tact, he waited for Callias himselfto open the subject in which he now felt sure his interest had beenaroused. It was soon after that the young man asked: "What is this thatold Lycides has been saying about my liberty and life being in danger?He has known it, he says, since yesterday, and you know it too. What canhe mean?"
"He is quite right," replied Hippocles. "He knows something and I knowsomething. Now listen. Your parting with Diomedon was observed. The menwho murdered him--and by all the gods! there never was a fouler murderdone in Athens--cannot but look for vengeance to come upon them. Toavoid it or to postpone it they will stick at nothing. No near friend orrelative of their victims is safe. I know--for I have friends in placesyou would not think--mark you, I _know_ that your name is among thosewho will be accused in the next assembly."
"Accused," cried Callias, "accused of what? Of being bound by kindredand affection to one of the noblest of men. By heavens! let them accuseme. I should glory to stand and defend myself on such a charge. If Icould only tell that villain Theramenes what I think of him I should beafraid of nothing."
"That is exactly what I thought you would say," replied Hippocles, "norcan I blame you. But have patience. Theramenes will get his deserts ifthere are gods in heaven and furies in hell. But have patience. Leavehis punishment to them. But meanwhile don't give him the chance ofburdening his soul with another crime."
"What would you have me do then?" asked Callias.
"Fly from Athens," replied his older friend.
"What! fly, and leave these traitors and murderers to enjoy theirtriumph! Not so; not if I were to die to-morrow."
"My dear young friend, you will help your country, which, in spite ofall her faults, you wish, I presume, to serve, and avenge your friendsall the more surely if you will yield to the necessities of the time."
"Don't press me any further: it would be a dishonor to me to leaveAthens now."
The argument was continued for some time longer; but Hippocles could notflatter himself with the idea that he had made any impression. At lasthe seemed to abandon the attempt.
"Well," he said, "a willful man must have his way. I can only hope thatyou will never live to repent it. But you will not refuse to come andsee us--my daughter adds her invitation to mine--you will not be soungallant as to refuse."
"No, I should not think of refusing," said Callias. "You have called meback to life. I thought that my heart would have burnt with grief andrage. You can't imagine what your sympathy is to me."
"Well," said Hippocles, "show your gratitude by dining with usto-night."
Callias promised that he would, and accordingly at the time appointedpresented himself at the merchant's house.
After dinner the discussion was resumed. Hippocles and Hermione urgedall the arguments that they knew to persuade the young man to think ofhis own safety, but they urged in vain.
"No!" said the young man, as he rose to take his leave, "no, I thank youfor your care for me, but your advice I may not follow. I refuse tobelieve that the Athenian people can keep the the base and ungratefultemper which they showed the other day. It was the madness of an hour,and they must have repented of it long ago. If they have not, then anhonest man who happens to be born into this citizenship had best die.Athens is no place for him. Anyhow, I shall try, at the very nextassembly, unless I can get some other and abler man than I am to do itfor me, to indict Callixenus for unconstitutional practices. Did I passby this occasion of vengeance, the blood of Diomedon and his bravecolleagues might well cry out of the ground against me."
Several days passed without any disturbing incident. Callias hadwarnings indeed. Mysterious letters were brought to him, bidding himbeware of dangers that were imminent; more than one stranger who foundhim in the streets let fall, it seemed by the merest accident, wordsthat could not but be meant to give a warning; friends spoke openly tothe same effect; but the young man remained unmoved. At the table ofHippocles, where he was a frequent guest, the subject was dropped. Itseemed to be conceded by common consent that Callias was to have his ownway.
He was returning to his home in the upper city from the Piraeus on adark and stormy night, picking his way under the shelter of one of theLong Walls[41] when he felt himself suddenly seized from behind. Sosuddenly and so skilfully made was the attack that in an instant theyoung man, thou
gh sufficiently active and vigorous, was reduced toabsolute helplessness. His arms were fastened to his side; his legspinioned; his eyes blindfolded, and a gag thrust into his mouth. Allthis was done without any unnecessary violence, but with a firmness thatmade resistance impossible. The young man then felt himself lifted on tosome conveyance which had been waiting, it seemed, in the neighborhood,and driven rapidly in a northerly direction. So much the prisoner couldguess from feeling the wind which he knew had been coming from the east,blowing upon his right cheek. After being driven rapidly for a fewminutes the gag was removed with an apology for the necessity that hadcompelled its use. The journey was continued with unabated and evenincreased rapidity, the lash, as Callias' ear told him, being freelyused to urge the animals to their full speed. Before long the sound ofthe waves breaking upon the shore could be distinctly heard above theclatter of the horses' hoofs and the grinding of the chariot wheels uponthe road. Then came a stoppage. The prisoner was lifted from his seatand put on board what he guessed to be a small boat. He felt that thiswas pushed out from the land, that it began by making fair progress, andthat not long after starting, when it had passed, as he conjecturedbeyond the shelter of some bay or promontory, it began to meet badweather. The waves were breaking, it was easy to tell, over the boat, inwhich the water was rising in spite of the efforts of the men who werebusy bailing to keep it under. It was time for our hero to speak; sobusy were the sailors in struggling with their difficulties, that theymight easily have forgotten their prisoner, and let him go to the bottomlike a stone.
"Friends," he cried, "you had best let me help you and myself."
"By Poseidon! I had forgotten him," he heard one of the men cry. "If hedrowns there will be no profit to us in floating." A consultationcarried on in low, rapid whispers followed. It ended in the prisoner'sbonds being severed, and the bandage being removed from his eyes.
When the situation became visible to the young Athenian it was certainlyfar from encouraging. The boat was low in the water, and was gettinglower. It was evident that it could not live more than a few minutesmore. The night was dark, and the sea so high that even the most expertswimmer could not expect to survive very long. The only hope seemed tolie in the chance of being blown ashore. But obviously the first thingto be done was to prepare for a swim. Callias, accordingly, threw offhis upper garment and untied his sandals. This done he waited for theend.
It was not long in coming. The boat was too low in the water to rise tothe waves, and one of unusual size now broke over and swamped it,immersing the crew, who numbered nine persons including Callias. Happilythey were good swimmers, and if speedy help were to come, might hope toescape. And, luckily, help was nearer than any of them had hoped. Alight became visible in the darkness; and the swimmers shouted inconcert to let the new comers know of their whereabouts. An answeringshout came from the galley, for as may be supposed, it was a galley thatcarried the light. "Be of good cheer," shouted a voice which Calliasthought that he recognized. The swimmers shouted in answer, and felt newhope and new life infused into them. But the rescue was no easy task.Each man in turn had to fasten under his armpits a rope with a noose atthe end which was thrown to him, and was then drawn up the side of thegalley. This took time. Some of the men found it hard to do their partof the work, and so delayed the rescue of the others. By the time thatCallias was reached, and he was the last of the nine, he was almostbeyond the reach of help. By one supreme effort, however, he managed toslip the rope about him. As he was dragged on to the deck the lastconscious impression that he had--and so strange was it that he thoughtit must be a dream--was the face of Hermione bent over him with anexpression of intense anxiety.
FOOTNOTES:
[41] The "Long Walls" ran from Athens down to its chief harbor thePiraeus.
Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens Page 11