The Banquet of Attaginus.
“How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry!”
Shakespeare.
After the defeat of the Persians at Salamis, Xerxes retreated across the
Hellespont to Asia, but Mardonius was not so easily disheartened. With
three hundred thousand men he wintered in Thessaly making thorough
preparations for a second attack upon Athens the following summer. What
was his utter amazement upon re-entering the city to find it completely
deserted, its citizens having remained at Salamis, Troezen and Aegina.
Thereupon he retreated to Thebes in Bœotia there to await the Greek
offensive which was to be strengthened by aid from the Spartans.
On a certain evening in spring, ten months after the destruction of
Athens, Zopyrus and his friend Masistius, sat outside the entrance of
the latter’s tent in the Persian encampment near Thebes. The night was
cool for that time of the year, but the chill was warded off to some
extent by a brightly blazing fire.
“What think you of this sumptuous feast to be given by the Theban
Attaginus, on the morrow?” asked Zopyrus.
“I expect I shall enjoy the feast, but I do not admire the Bœotians,”
replied Masistius. “They are unfaithful to their country’s cause, and
above all things I loathe a traitor. Of course our outward appearances
must be those of friendship, for they are of inestimable service to the
Persian cause, but how different from the traitorous Thebans was that
little band of Athenians who tried to defend their Acropolis!”
Zopyrus’ brow clouded at memory of that tragic scene. “By the way
Masistius, what became of the girl whom Xerxes gave to Artabazus when
the latter was forced to surrender the maiden to whom I laid claim?”
Masistius gazed silently into the bright flames and tossed a twig into
the fire, watching it a moment before he spoke.
“Her young life will be consumed just as that twig. She was taken away
by Artabazus and is now a captive in his harem.”
Masistius paused a moment impressively, then he asked without even
glancing in Zopyrus’ direction: “And the other maiden, what of her? But
that is a rude question,” he added, laying an affectionate hand upon the
other’s shoulder. “I presume by now she is safe with her people.”
Zopyrus turned quickly and sought his companion’s gaze. “Friend
Masistius,” he said, “I have kept locked within my breast these ten
months, a secret, so precious that I hesitate to share it, and I would
not do so were it not approaching the eve of battle, but to you who
throughout this entire campaign, have been the only friend whose ideas
of life coincide with mine, I will disclose that which I had not thought
to reveal to mortal man. Although my acquaintance with the maiden of
whom you speak was of short duration, it was, nevertheless, long enough
to convince me that I want her for my wife.”
The Persian cavalryman expressed no little surprise at his friend’s
disclosure.
“Was the infatuation mutual?” he asked.
“If I possess any ability in interpreting a maiden’s thoughts through
her eyes, my love is reciprocated,” said Zopyrus, the color mounting to
his temples.
“If that be the case,” spoke Masistius heartily, “may Ahura-Mazdâo bring
you together after we have conquered Greece!”
“And if we cannot succeed in subduing the Greeks?”
“Then Zeus may perform the act of reuniting you,” replied Masistius
somewhat bitterly.
The fire had by this time died down till only a few glowing embers
remained. Zopyrus rose to take his leave.
“Farewell, Masistius, till the feast. Forget the confidences of the past
hour. This love of mine can avail nothing.”
“Of that I am not so sure, Zopyrus. The vision of a certain beautiful
young woman has kept up my courage that might otherwise have failed me.”
With a friendly hand-clasp, the two parted.
* * * * * * * *
The hall appropriated to the feast was part of the private home of the
Theban leader, Attaginus. Through a wide entrance at one side of the
hall, the guests glimpsed a court, the floor of which was of variegated
mosaic tiles forming intricate designs and patterns. In the center a
marble fountain tossed up its silvery cooling spray. Among the potted
palms and ferns, birds of bright-colored plumage flitted about adding
their sweet notes to that of cithera and flute. Rarest flowers of every
hue glowed from sculptured vases among the green foliage of the plants,
and sweet spices burned in guilded tripods.
Within the hall the cedar-wood tables[3] groaned under the weight of
gold and silver dishes filled with tasty viands. There were thrushes
browned to a turn, fish, lentils, olive-oil, cheese, fruit, cakes baked
in the shape of Persian and Greek soldiers, and many desserts and
dainties to induce thirst for the wine which was to come later.
The astute Attaginus had arranged his guests in such a manner that a
Bœotian and a Persian occupied the same couch. In this way he hoped to
stimulate the fraternal spirit between Persian and Greek. Thus Artabazus
found himself occupying a couch with a Theban cavalryman by the name of
Timegenidas, Masistius discovered his companion to be a certain Theban,
Asopodorus, while Mardonius and Attaginus were partners.
Zopyrus being an inferior officer to those mentioned, sat among others
of equal rank with himself at an end of the hall. In spite of the revel
and festivity about him, he labored in vain to throw off a sense of
depression. To one of his nature it was impossible to forget the
probable tragedies of the morrow in the carousal and merry-making of
today. These men about him were trying to veil sorrow with levity; a
thing that men have done for countless ages and probably always will; a
last expiring effort to enjoy life while it is still in their
possession; a desire to crowd out of consciousness the possibility of
oblivion by a present rapturous delight in the reality of existence.
The Greek who sat with Zopyrus observed his nonchalance and endeavored
to encourage conversation. He plied Zopyrus with questions as to his
native city, the details of the campaign from Sardis to Thessaly, until
the Persian was forced to make similar inquiries in regard to the
Bœotian, who he learned was a citizen of Orchomenus, by the name of
Thersander.
At the close of the above mentioned courses servants entered and moved
noiselessly about, putting wreaths on the heads and around the necks of
the guests and pouring upon them sweet-scented ointments. At this point
in the feast Attaginus arose and all eyes were turned in his direction.
“We will appoint a symposiarch[4] by lot,” he explained, “so that Greek
and Persian will be treated fairly.”
“I believe my companion here would make an excellent symposiarch,” said
Timegenidas, laughingly indicating Artabazus. “I think he would be
sparing in the use of water. Am I right, my friend?”
“Where wine, revelry and women, though the latter are sadly wanting
here, are concerned,” said Artabazus in a loud voice, “there I am
willing to take a prominent part.”
“I am sure you would prove an excellent symposiarch,” courteously
replied the host, “but we will tonight follow the usual custom and cast
lots for that service.”
The lot fell to Masistius before whom the servants placed a large ornate
mixing bowl upon a handsome golden salver. In accordance with his
practice of moderation in all things, Masistius used three parts of
water to two of wine, much to the disgust of Artabazus and a few others
present.
“Masistius,” called Artabazus, “this may be the last wine we drink here
on earth, so beware of mixing frog’s wine. Make it strong enough for us
to forget in it the threatening dangers of tomorrow. Add some more of
that which our host says comes from Lesbos!”
The symposiarch ignored the latter’s remarks. His large, well-built
frame, as he performed his task, attracted the attention of all the
banqueters.
“If he attains such superb physique with three parts of water and two of
wine, we can do no better than to follow his example,” said one.
“It is said there is none braver among the men of the cavalry,” remarked
another.
To all this conversation, Zopyrus was a silent listener. His eyes rested
with fond approval upon the manly form of his friend Masistius. He
watched closely the frank, open countenance and was well pleased with
the jovial, but at the same time, dignified demeanor. How would it fare
with Masistius on the morrow? Of himself he did not think. He was
presently aware that Artabazus was addressing the banqueters generally.
“You Greeks actually do not seem to miss the presence of women at your
banquets! Now to me, for my tastes are so refined, the presence of
feminine beauty adds a charm for which no amount of flowers, birds or
music can substitute.”
The Greek Asopodorus now spoke, and his voice in contrast to the raucous
accents of the Persian, fell pleasingly upon the ears of the feasters.
“We Greeks believe in a unit of love in which love of beauty, of wealth,
sensual love, intellectual love and many others are but earthly
modifications of the true and the good. Thus a love which satisfies the
æsthetic can take as great delight in the manly strength of a youth’s
body as in the graceful, softer lines of a woman’s form.”
“Ah,” thought Zopyrus, “Many of these Greeks think and feel as
Asopodorus. Their adoration of loveliness in any form is their
outstanding characteristic. They love the beauty of this earthly
paradise in which they dwell, yet because they love power less, they are
turning over their beautiful land to foreigners. If I had only been born
a Greek!”
He glanced at Thersander. “I am half Greek, and may the gods smite me if
I do not look more Greek than this fellow near me! If it were not for
Masistius whom I love as a brother, I believe I should not tolerate
seeing this fair land over-run by such as Artabazus and many another
eastern despot.”
Although the wine was not strong enough to intoxicate if taken in
moderation, the spirits of many of the guests were rising as the evening
wore on, owing to excessive drinking. At length six girls, whose hair
was entwined with daisies, appeared at the entrance to the court. Each
held a lyre and sang as she moved lightly on tip-toe between the tables.
They were modestly attired so as not to offend the taste of the most
fastidious, for Attaginus was a conservative man and much respected in
Thebes.
“So much for your love of the æsthetic, Attaginus,” laughed Mardonius,
winking at the Theban. “In accordance with your theory why did you not
have some handsome youths dance with the lyre?”
“Because,” replied Attaginus, “the male figure does not appear as well
in a dance, but I could have put on a wrestling match that I think would
well have pleased my guests.”
“The girls will prove far better entertainers,” said Artabazus, who had
overheard the conversation, “but why are their charms so hidden? They
might better be a group of priestesses than dancers amid the revelry and
loud clamor of a banquet!”
The evening wore on in this fashion, the feasters trying to out-rival
one another in attracting the attention of the six damsels. When the
singing and dancing were at an end and the maidens had disappeared, the
conversation turned to the more serious matters of the approaching
battle. Mardonius spoke.
“The Athenians will regret their refusal to form an alliance with us
against the Peleponnesians. Remember Thermopylæ, my friend and do not
forget that Salamis was a naval battle. Athens’ powerful navy will avail
her naught in the approaching conflict.”
“Your great leader speaks most encouragingly, my friend,” said
Thersander addressing Zopyrus, “wherefore are you so downcast?”
Zopyrus paused a moment before replying, then said in a voice low enough
to be audible only to his companion:
“Since you have now partaken with me at the same table, I desire to
leave with you some memorial of my convictions: the rather in order that
you may be yourself forewarned so as to take the best counsel for your
own safety. Do you see these Persians here feasting, and did you observe
the army which we left yonder encamped near the river? Yet a little
while, and out of all these you will behold but a few surviving!”
Thersander replied. “Surely you are bound to reveal this to Mardonius
and to his confidential advisers!”
But the Persian rejoined. “My friend, man can not avert that which God
has decreed to come. No one will believe the revelation, sure though it
be. Many of us Persians know this well, and are here serving only under
the bond of necessity. And truly this is the most hateful of all human
suffering—to be full of knowledge and at the same time to have no power
over any result.”
Zopyrus was himself amazed at his own frank outburst. Many times had he
longed thus to express himself, and so he had revealed to Thersander
what he dared not to his friend Masistius. The east was kindling into a
glorious day as the banqueters took leave of their host, Attaginus.