Robert Fuller - The Golden Hope - A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great

Athens was rousing herself from sleep. The beams of the morning sun bathed the rugged sides of Mount Hymettus and lightened the dark foliage that clothed the nearer wooded slopes of Lycabettus. The low, flat-roofed houses of the city were still nothing more than blurred masses of gray in the shadow; but presently a ray touched the point of Athene's spear, and the flood of orange light flowed over the Acropolis. Its temples and statues were enveloped in a radiance which fused the rich, harmonious colors of column and cornice and melted the massive outlines into a resplendent whole, rising immortal from the gloom at its base.

Thin curls of smoke mounted here and there above the housetops, straight up toward the limitless turquoise vault of the sky. The vivifying freshness of the new-born day was in the air.

There was a clatter of hoofs in the Street of Pericles, and two young men, followed by three mounted servants, swung into view.

"By Zeus, Leonidas!" cried the foremost of the riders, drawing rein and pointing to the Acropolis, "that is worth riding all night to see!"

"You mean the sunrise?" the other asked, also coming to a halt. "Pshaw! You may see that any day without sitting up for it."

"Not I!" said his companion, laughing. "I love the lamps too well."

Leonidas shrugged his square shoulders. "It's not the lamps you love, Chares," he returned dryly. "But why are we idling here? Unless we make haste, Clearchus will be out of bed before we can surprise him."

"Come on, then!" Chares cried, urging his tired horse. "By Heracles! what's that?"

The three servants had ridden forward in advance of their masters. From the direction they had taken, the young men heard a confusion of angry voices, mingled with oaths. In another moment they saw that the street was blocked by a gorgeous litter borne on the shoulders of four sturdy slaves and surrounded by a dozen more, some of whom carried torches which burned pale in the morning light. The litter-bearers had refused to draw aside, and the guard was attempting to turn the horsemen back. Evidently some youth had been overtaken at his revelry by the dawn and was now being carried home by slaves who had followed his example at the wine-cup.

A bustling little man, with close-cropped hair and the sharp-nosed face of a fox, was shaking his sword in the faces of the riders.

"Back with you! Back!" he shouted. "Do you seek to halt the noble Phradates? Back, while you may!"

The curtains of the litter parted, and a young man's face, crimson with wrath and wine, appeared at the opening. He wore upon his head a wreath of wilted roses, which had slipped sidewise over one ear.

"What is the matter, Mena?" he called thickly. "Cut the rascals down!"

The three servants hesitated, looking back to their masters for instructions.

"Here is sport!" Chares cried, his eyes sparkling. "Let us ride through them! They need a lesson."

Leonidas made no answer, but shook his bridle rein free and plunged his spurs into the flanks of his horse.

"Way! Way!" Chares cried in a mighty voice, as they thundered down upon the obstinate group. "Follow us, my lads!" he shouted to the servants as he swept past.

The officious man with the sharp nose dropped his sword and scrambled up the steps of a house, but before the rest could follow his example the five horsemen were among them, and they were rolling under foot with their torches. Chares swerved his horse skilfully against the litter in such a manner that it was overturned. Its occupant pitched head foremost into the street, and the litter fell on top of him, burying him beneath a mass of curtains and silken cushions, among which he struggled like some gigantic insect caught in a web.

"You shall pay for this!" he gasped from the wreckage, shaking his fist after the little cavalcade. "I am Phradates!"

Chares laughed until the street echoed, and even Leonidas could not forbear a smile when he glanced back upon the havoc their passage had caused.

"We must ask Clearchus who this fellow is," Chares said. "Here is the house."

He sprang down in front of a dwelling of white marble and ran to the gate.

"Hola!" he shouted. "Let us in! Do you intend to keep your master's guests all day at his door? Open, then!"

After a slight delay there was a sound of falling bars, and the grating swung back, revealing a drowsy slave in the entrance.

"Is it you, my master? Enter; you are welcome," the man said, bowing before Chares.

"Is Clearchus awake?" Chares demanded eagerly.

"I think not, sir," the slave replied.

"Then we will rouse him!" Chares cried, running across the outer court and into the house. Leonidas followed more deliberately, leaving the attendants to care for the horses.

Chares did not stop to return the greeting of the slave who opened the house door for him, but dashed through the corridor that led to the inner court, shouting at the top of his voice: "Clearchus! Wake up, sluggard, and feed the hungry, or the Gods will turn their faces from you! Dreamer, where art thou?"

Just as he emerged from the corridor to the spacious inner court, the young man came suddenly upon a fresh-faced slave girl, who was busied with some early duties about the broad cistern filled with lotus flowers.

"Aphrodite, as I live!" Chares cried, throwing his arms about her and kissing her on the lips with a smack. The girl fled, laughing and blushing, to the women's quarters, and at the same moment the master of the house, awakened by the uproar, appeared on the threshold of his chamber.

"Chares!" he cried, coming forward with outstretched hands. "Who else could it be, indeed!"

"Oh, Clearchus," Chares said, "what hardships and perils we have passed to reach thee!"

"And here is Leonidas," said the Athenian, freeing himself from the embrace of Chares as the second of his guests entered the court. "Both my brothers here! For this I owe a sacrifice of thanksgiving which I shall not fail to pay. But what fortunate chance brings you to Athens?"

"We were sitting quietly enough in Thebes, talking of you," Leonidas replied, "when this madcap declared that he would not live another day without seeing you and that he intended to make you give him breakfast. Piso, who was with us, fell into dispute with him, offering to wager twenty minæ that we could not ride here before midday. Chares maintained that he would wake you this morning or forfeit the stake, and here we are."

"And so you have ridden all night?" Clearchus asked.

"All night, amid dangers and darkness, only to see you!" Chares replied gayly, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. "And now, have you anything to eat in the house? I am like a famished wolf."

"Come with me," Clearchus said, leading the way into a large room opening from the left of the court. The sunlight streamed in from the garden outside, over rich Persian carpets which covered the floor. The walls were frescoed with scenes from the Iliad of Homer, drawn with marvellous skill. Painted statuettes stood in niches of stone. Chairs and tables of ebony, cypress, and cedar were scattered through the room, and soft couches invited rest. Clearchus struck a bell, and a grave man of middle age appeared in the doorway.

"Send us food, Cleon," Clearchus said.

The steward withdrew, and two younger slaves entered. They quickly divested Chares and Leonidas of their riding cloaks and swords and washed their hands in bowls of scented water, drying them upon linen towels. They were followed by other slaves bearing trays of cold fowl, bread, and wine.

"This seems like getting home," Chares exclaimed, throwing himself upon one of the couches and leaning back luxuriously upon the cushions of down which the slaves hastened to arrange behind him while he helped himself to food from the table. "By the Gods, Clearchus, unless you stop growing handsome, Phœbus will be jealous of you!"