The Ward of Themistocles.
“Talk of thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art freedom’s now, and fame’s,—
One of the few, the immortal names
That were not born to die.”
Fitz-Greene Halleck.
In compliance with a request from the hero of Salamis, no less a person
than Themistocles himself, Zopyrus betook himself to the home of that
personage. The two had met frequently at public gatherings, and Zopyrus,
influenced by the first words he had heard fall from the lips of
Aeschylus which were tributes of praise to Themistocles, had since that
time looked upon the actions and utterances of that statesman with
approval.
A servant admitted him and led him through the reception room to a
doorway which opened into a bright and cheerful solarium. The statist
stood with arms folded and head bent in reverie. Upon hearing a footfall
he turned quickly and greeted Zopyrus with outstretched hands.
“Welcome, my young friend,” he cried delightedly. “You come at a time
when cheerful companionship is much needed. As if the cares of a nation
are not enough, the gods are giving me more than my share of personal
woe.”
Zopyrus seated himself in the sun-lit room and surveyed the luxuriant
growth of potted tropical plants.
“One ought never to feel sad here,” he remarked, “but tell me what
troubles you Themistocles.”
“I will first tell you of my political worries, though perhaps you share
the opinion of many of my former friends, and can anticipate what I am
about to say.”
“I can not know exactly what you wish to say, but I presume it has to do
with the turning of popular favor against you.”
“Yes, that is at the bottom of my sorrow. Once—” here Themistocles’
voice broke and he could not continue for a moment, “once I was greatly
honored and deservedly, Zopyrus. Do not think me a braggart to say
so—but you will remember the favors that all Athens showed me after
Salamis. I was and am still sincere in my hope for the welfare of this
most glorious of cities, but personal enemies have sown the seeds of
mistrust, and now former friends pass me with averted faces, and many
cast glances of distrust. Did I not thwart the over-ambitious Sparta?
Now the populace begins to clamor for a younger man, which is good and
natural of course, but this young man favors an alliance with Sparta,
and even argues that such a compact will be to our advantage. This young
man, do you know him?” asked Themistocles with fervor.
“I believe you mean Cimon, the son of Miltiades, do you not?”
“The same,” cried Themistocles, “the son of a veritable rascal, so what
can one expect!”
“Personally I admire Cimon,” said Zopyrus quietly. “He is a warrior,
every inch of him, and I favor the plan of appointing him successor to
Aristides as commander of the fleet.”
“Then you too are against me!” cried the older man hotly. “I had counted
on your friendship as an unswerving reality, but I realize there is no
such thing as human constancy.”
Zopyrus was deeply moved. “I do not for one moment doubt your sincerity
in serving Athens, and at the time of Salamis your policy was a wise one
and saved Greece from a sad fate, but conditions have changed since
Platæa.”
“Do you know,” asked the statesman leaning toward his young companion
and lowering his tones, “that there were those who doubted me at Salamis
and were ready to believe that my scheme for compelling the Greeks to
fight was an act intended to favor the enemy? Had the Persians been
victorious at the time my doom would have been sealed.”
“Athens is too severe, too critical,” continued Themistocles, his voice
rising in excitement. “Because such men as Miltiades and Pausanias
become arrogant and selfish after Marathon and Platæa, they assume that
I must do likewise after Salamis. This Delean League which is proposed
by Cimon would exclude the Thessalians and Argives, both as you know
friendly to us, and would substitute allies of Sparta. The national
spirit which made the Greeks omnipotent against the millions of Darius
and Xerxes must live again! Oh, Athens is temporarily blind, blind, and
I am powerless to save her now! You are young, Zopyrus, will you not
fight this confederacy and clear my name of suspicions of intrigue with
Persia? Seek one Leobotes, an old enemy of my family, and prevent him
from pressing against me the charge of Medism. Do this, my friend, and
anything that is within my power I will do for you.”
“I will do what I can,” replied Zopyrus earnestly. Changing the subject
he said, “You have heard no doubt, of the fate of Pausanias?”
“I can imagine what it is, but I had not heard.”
“I was informed before coming here,” said Zopyrus, “that starvation in
the temple of Poseidon ended his miserable existence. As you know a wall
had been built around the temple and armed guards stationed without who
watched night and day. Just before the end came he was brought forth
into the open to die that he might not pollute the temple.”
“Alas poor Pausanias!” cried Themistocles, “how relentless are those who
think ill of us! You were guilty of the charge against you, but by the
gods I am not!”
Zopyrus was deeply impressed by the grief of Themistocles. He put his
hand into his tunic and tore from his throat a talisman that had hung on
a slender chain. Thrusting it into the hand of the amazed Themistocles
he whispered hurriedly, “I hope you may never need it, but should it
prove necessary, this will make you welcome at the court of Xerxes or
his successor either at Persepolis or Susa.”
As Zopyrus finished speaking a light step was heard in the adjoining
room, and a moment later Ladice entered. Upon observing another person,
she turned and would have withdrawn had not Zopyrus stepped forward with
the words: “Ladice have you so soon forgotten your rescuer?”
The girl hesitated a moment, then her features lit up with a pleasant
smile of recognition. “I had forgotten your name but I have told
Themistocles many times of your bravery.”
Both men gazed with masculine approval into the smiling gray eyes of the
girl that looked out from beneath a halo of sunshine and copper colored
hair.
“So Zopyrus is your deliverer!” ejaculated Themistocles, “and he is a
Persian!”
“You should use the past tense there, my friend,” said Zopyrus with
emotion, “for I have been an Athenian loyal and staunch ever since the
death of my friend Masistius.”
At the mention of the Persian’s name, Ladice turned her head away to
hide the tears which filled her eyes. She sat silently while Zopyrus
related the story of his transformation. When he had finished
Themistocles placed his hands upon the youth’s shoulders.
“You are worthy of your Athenian ancestry. If you can rescue me from a
fate as bad in its way as Ladice’s threatened to be, you will be in my
opinion, second only to Zeus himself.”
“I will do all that I can,” said the young man heartily, “and will begin
with my friend Cimon who has proved too talkative of late.”
After Zopyrus’ departure Themistocles turned to his young ward and
placing a hand upon her bright hair said, “It would greatly please me
did you find favor in the eyes of this young Zopyrus.”
Ladice blushed in painful confusion as she replied, “For some time I
feel that no one can fill the place that my brave Persian, Masistius
held, besides I have heard it rumored that Zopyrus is to wed the
daughter of Pasicles.”
For some moments there was silence between them. Suddenly Themistocles
said fiercely, “As long as Cimon stays away from you, I care not to whom
your heart may turn, even were it the son of my hated rival Aristides!”
“Father, for such you have been to me since Platæa,” said Ladice, her
lips trembling with emotion, “I have wondered if Cimon’s animosity
toward you is not aggravated by my coldness to him. Has it not occurred
to you that he may consider that you alone are responsible for the
failure of his suit? If I were to accept his attentions, is it not
likely that he would discontinue his efforts to turn the Athenians
against you?”
“It is possible, Ladice,” said the statesman sadly, “but I would under
no consideration allow you to sacrifice your happiness for me. You are
young, while I—perhaps it is better so!”
The girl touched the hand of her foster-father with loving tenderness as
she said: “But what if I have found that I do love him, but have
hesitated to speak before, knowing as I do your justified hatred of
him!”
The hero of Salamis placed his hand under the maiden’s chin and lifted
her face till he could search the eyes that sought to veil themselves
beneath the sweeping lashes. His look seemed to penetrate the innermost
recesses of her soul. She struggled to free herself from the gaze that
held her, as she cried beseechingly: “Only believe me, Themistocles. Do
you not see that I can marry the man I love and free you from the
terrible disgrace which threatens you?”
The man’s arms dropped to his sides and his mighty head sank to his
breast. Ladice stepped away smiling for she knew his attitude was
significant of resignation.