A Revelation.
“Bacchus, Bacchus! on the panther
He swoons,—bound with his own vines!
And his Mænads slowly saunter,
Head aside, among the pines,
While they murmur dreamingly,—
‘Evohe—ah—evohe—!
Ah, Pan is dead.”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Zopyrus stood with arms folded, his noble head, perfect stature and
dignified bearing appearing most incongruous with the _exomis_ he wore.
From across his folded arms he looked straight at the mortal Dionysus,
till the latter, feeling his impelling gaze, looked up and flushed
guiltily, though the man who surveyed him so coldly was to him a total
stranger. Zopyrus walked to the throne, thrust the false Dionysus rudely
aside, seized the amazed Persephone in his arms and tried to force his
way through the crowd with her, but the indignant remonstrances of the
crowd made futile his efforts.
“Down with him for violating the privileges of the god!” cried one.
This outburst was followed with vociferous cries of, “Take Ariadne from
him!” “Throw him out!” “Beat him!”
By this time Ephialtes had recovered his composure. The appearance of
the stranger had inexplicably discomposed him and the attack had roused
his ire, but now conscious of his costly garb in contrast to his
assailant’s attire, he stood before the throne and in imperious tones
demanded the return of Ariadne, as he called her.
Zopyrus released the girl from his embrace and asked: “Do you wish to
return to Pluto?”
For answer she stepped closely to Zopyrus’ side and clung tenaciously to
his arm. He gazed long into the depths of eyes that matched the blue of
her gown and the sapphires upon her brow. The color mounted to her
temples, and as she bowed her head he noticed that the rosy flush
likewise suffused her neck and shoulders which were partially visible
through the golden strands of loosened hair.
Ephialtes was infuriated by Persephone’s refusal to return to him, and
was nonplussed as to what method he had best employ to obtain the
maiden, when there flashed through his mind the words of a sentence: “On
the day that you deliver to Greece the traitor of Thermopylæ, I will
become your wife.”
Straightening himself to his full height Ephialtes commanded the
attention of the audience.
“I am about to make a revelation that will return Ariadne to me, I
believe,” he said smiling with arrogant confidence. “The man to whom
Ariadne clings and is no doubt one of our oarsmen, is no other than he
who betrayed your country to the Persians before the battle of
Thermopylæ. Greece has long sought him fellow countrymen, and yonder he
stands, defiling with his touch the maiden who plays the part of
Persephone at the Mysteries of Eleusis. What will you do with him?”
“Kill him!” came the cry from hundreds of throats, and with one accord
the angry mob rushed toward Zopyrus.
“Just one moment please,” said Ephialtes. “I will wait for Ariadne, or
Persephone of Eleusis, to join me on the throne.”
He paused impressively, but Persephone did not move.
“What,” he cried in indignation, “Did you not promise to become my bride
when Thermopylæ’s traitor would be revealed by me?”
Persephone walked slowly toward Ephialtes who stretched forth eager arms
to receive her, but she stopped a few paces before him and on her face
was an inscrutable smile.
“Not so fast, Ephialtes. I want the proof. You dare not make such a
statement without sufficient evidence against him.”
Ephialtes was confused. He had not had enough time to make up false
testimony, but he knew that his future happiness depended now upon how
successfully he placed the blame of his guilt upon the innocent man
before him.
“Hear me,” he said, “and I will tell you the circumstances.”
“Your testimony can avail naught, for my protector here is a native
Persian who knows nothing of the mountain passes of Greece,” said
Persephone in a voice that rang clearly as a bell through the great
hall. A death-like stillness pervaded the _cella_; nought was heard but
the sharp intake of Ephialtes’ breath, then from his lips there burst in
stentorian tones: “If this be true, a Persian in our midst is as
deserving of death as a traitor! Friends will you allow him even so much
as to touch the Persephone of the Mysteries?”
At this Persephone became alarmed and feared lest in her ardent desire
to defend her protector, she had only made matters worse. Zopyrus,
seeing her agitated countenance, smiled reassuringly and raised his arm
to command general attention. A few rabid revelers rushed forward to do
violence to his person but were checked by a voice in the throng: “Hear
him! No man should be condemned without being permitted to say a word in
his own behalf.”
The furious denunciations of the intolerant ones subsided, and Zopyrus
turned and walked slowly toward Ephialtes who gradually retreated before
the compelling gaze of his antagonist, till he reached the throne upon
which he sat, quite unconscious of what he did. Zopyrus’ demeanor
changed instantly. He bowed low before the amazed man upon the throne
and said with impressive solemnity:
“O Xerxes, King of the Medes and Persians and would-be conqueror of the
world, I come to you with an important message. For two days your
soldiers have been defeated by the Greeks at the entrance of the pass of
Thermopylæ. The Greeks are so inferior in number that right now is the
time to strike, but not in the method heretofore employed. The Greeks
are well trained, and if they are to be conquered, it must be by the
greater forces of the enemy. Listen, O Xerxes! If you would succeed in
overwhelming the enemy, you must attack from behind, but this you can
not do since you are not acquainted with this wild, impassable country.
I am a native Malian and well acquainted with this locality. If you will
make it worth my while, I will show you a mountain pass that will lead
you to the rear of Leonidas’ army unobserved.”
During the Persian’s recital, Ephialtes’ behavior had undergone many
mutations. From startled curiosity to fearful apprehension, thence to
genuine fright and finally to abject terror, his demeanor had rapidly
changed. By the time the Persian had ceased speaking, the Greek’s face
was as livid as a corpse.
Zopyrus sprang to the side of the doomed man and clutching him by either
shoulder cried, “Speak, traitor of Thermopylæ. What have you to say for
yourself?”
For answer Ephialtes drew from the folds of his robe a ruby handled
dagger which he raised for a death-dealing thrust at Zopyrus, but the
latter, free from the influence of wine, was the quicker, and caught his
enemy’s arm in its lightning-like descent, thus warding off the blow
that might have been fatal.
A muttering that grew to a rumble and then to a mighty roar that shook
the very pillars of the temple was heard, and with one impulse an angry
mob rushed toward the dais. Above the din and confusion a voice
screamed: “Death to the traitor who opened the gateway to Greece! Upon
his head and no other rests the loss of our homes and the deaths of our
fathers and brothers.”
Zopyrus drew the half fainting form of Persephone to his side and with
one strong arm gave her bodily support and with the other forced a
passage through the enraged crowd down the length of the _cella_. At the
door they turned and looked back toward the throne which was completely
hidden from their sight by the oscillating wave of humanity which
hovered about it and its ill-fated occupant.
Shuddering with horror they rushed out into the darkness. The cool
breeze from across the water revived their benumbed senses. As they sped
along the pathway which led to the shore, the drunken figure of a man
emerged from a clump of bushes to their left. Zopyrus would have
ordinarily paid no heed, as the man was in type a duplicate of hundreds
of others within the temple, but something familiar in the drunkard’s
appearance caused him to pause and take a second look, and in doing so
he recognized beyond the question of a doubt the coarse companion of
Corinna. His conscience smote him as he remembered that although he had
come to Naxos for the very purpose of serving as Corinna’s protector, he
had abandoned her to whatever fate might befall when he had seen
Persephone in distress.
He seized Persephone’s hand and said hastily: “Come with me. We must
find Corinna.”
“Do you mean Corinna the daughter of the poet Pasicles?” asked
Persephone.
“The same,” he replied, “Do you know her?”
The girl nodded. The young man continued talking as they hurried on in
the direction whence the rough man had appeared. “She came to Naxos in
the company of that brutish-looking man we met and I intended to protect
her, but you know the result! When I saw you, you were in dire need of
help and I could no more have left you to suffer at the hands of that
traitor than I did that day on the Acropolis when the Persian, Artabazus
would have harmed you.”
He turned half timidly to her, ashamed of his adoration for her whom he
now had no right to desire; for the image of a pure and noble maiden
stood between them.
“Tell me how you knew Ephialtes to be the man who betrayed Greece at
Thermopylæ,” she asked.
Zopyrus related in detail the episode of his eavesdropping in the tent
of Xerxes, and Persephone was about to tell why Ephialtes had been so
eager to accuse someone of being the traitor at Thermopylæ, when a white
form, partially concealed by undergrowth a few paces before them,
attracted their attention simultaneously.
Zopyrus sprang ahead and dropped to his knees beside the prone figure of
a girl which he discovered lay in the stillness of death. Something cold
seemed to grip his heart and everything about him seemed to melt into a
whirling cloud! With a faint cry of anguish he lost consciousness just
as Persephone ran up to him. She bent over him and looked into the
lifeless face of the girl.
It was Corinna, the daughter of Pasicles!