Athens was now not more than twenty miles away, but the road thither led
through the Parnes Mountains, and was only a narrow path winding among
the rocks and up and down many a lonely wooded glen. Theseus had seen
worse and far more dangerous roads than this, and so he strode bravely
onward, happy in the thought that he was so near the end of his long
journey. But it was very slow traveling among the mountains, and he was
not always sure that he was following the right path. The sun was almost
down when he came to a broad green valley where the trees had been
cleared away. A little river flowed through the middle of this valley,
and on either side were grassy meadows where cattle were grazing; and on
a hillside close by, half hidden among the trees, there was a great
stone house with vines running over its walls and roof.
While Theseus was wondering who it could be that lived in this pretty
but lonely place, a man came out of the house and hurried down to the
road to meet him. He was a well-dressed man, and his face was wreathed
with smiles; and he bowed low to Theseus and invited him kindly to come
up to the house and be his guest that night.
"This is a lonely place," he said, "and it is not often that travelers
pass this way. But there is nothing that gives me so much joy as to find
strangers and feast them at my table and hear them tell of the things
they have seen and heard. Come up, and sup with me, and lodge under my
roof; and you shall sleep on a wonderful bed which I have--a bed which
fits every guest and cures him of every ill."
Theseus was pleased with the man's ways, and as he was both hungry and
tired, he went up with him and sat down under the vines by the door; and
the man said:
"Now I will go in and make the bed ready for you, and you can lie down
upon it and rest; and later, when you feel refreshed, you shall sit at
my table and sup with me, and I will listen to the pleasant tales which
I know you will tell."
When he had gone into the house, Theseus looked around him to see what
sort of a place it was. He was filled with surprise at the richness of
it--at the gold and silver and beautiful things with which every room
seemed to be adorned--for it was indeed a place fit for a prince. While
he was looking and wondering, the vines before him were parted and the
fair face of a young girl peeped out.
"Noble stranger," she whispered, "do not lie down on my master's bed,
for those who do so never rise again. Fly down the glen and hide
yourself in the deep woods ere he returns, or else there will be no
escape for you."
"Who is your master, fair maiden, that I should be afraid of him?" asked
Theseus.
"Men call him Procrustes, or the Stretcher," said the girl--and she
talked low and fast. "He is a robber. He brings hither all the strangers
that he finds traveling through the mountains. He puts them on his iron
bed. He robs them of all they have. No one who comes into his house ever
goes out again."
"Why do they call him the Stretcher? And what is that iron bed of his?"
asked Theseus, in no wise alarmed.
"Did he not tell you that it fits all guests?" said the girl; "and most
truly it does fit them. For if a traveler is too long, Procrustes hews
off his legs until he is of the right length; but if he is too short, as
is the case with most guests, then he stretches his limbs and body with
ropes until he is long enough. It is for this reason that men call him
the Stretcher."
"Methinks that I have heard of this Stretcher before," said Theseus; and
then he remembered that some one at Eleusis had warned him to beware of
the wily robber, Procrustes, who lurked in the glens of the Parnes peaks
and lured travelers into his den.
"Hark! hark!" whispered the girl. "I hear him coming!" And the vine
leaves closed over her hiding-place.
The very next moment Procrustes stood in the door, bowing and smiling as
though he had never done any harm to his fellow men.
"My dear young friend," he said, "the bed is ready, and I will show you
the way. After you have taken a pleasant little nap, we will sit down at
table, and you may tell me of the wonderful things which you have seen
in the course of your travels."
Theseus arose and followed his host; and when they had come into an
inner chamber, there, surely enough, was the bedstead, of iron, very
curiously wrought, and upon it a soft couch which seemed to invite him
to lie down and rest. But Theseus, peering about, saw the ax and the
ropes with cunning pulleys lying hidden behind the curtains; and he saw,
too, that the floor was covered with stains of blood.
"Now, my dear young friend," said Procrustes, "I pray you to lie down
and take your ease; for I know that you have traveled far and are faint
from want of rest and sleep. Lie down, and while sweet slumber overtakes
you, I will have a care that no unseemly noise, nor buzzing fly, nor
vexing gnat disturbs your dreams."
"Is this your wonderful bed?" asked Theseus.
"It is," answered Procrustes, "and you need but to lie down upon it, and
it will fit you perfectly."
"But you must lie upon it first," said Theseus, "and let me see how it
will fit itself to your stature."
"Ah, no," said Procrustes, "for then the spell would be broken," and as
he spoke his cheeks grew ashy pale.
"But I tell you, you must lie upon it," said Theseus; and he seized the
trembling man around the waist and threw him by force upon the bed. And
no sooner was he prone upon the couch than curious iron arms reached out
and clasped his body in their embrace and held him down so that he could
not move hand or foot. The wretched man shrieked and cried for mercy;
but Theseus stood over him and looked him straight in the eye.
"Is this the kind of bed on which you have your guests lie down?" he
asked.
But Procrustes answered not a word. Then Theseus brought out the ax and
the ropes and the pulleys, and asked him what they were for, and why
they were hidden in the chamber. He was still silent, and could do
nothing now but tremble and weep.
"Is it true," said Theseus, "that you have lured hundreds of travelers
into your den only to rob them? Is it true that it is your wont to
fasten them in this bed, and then chop off their legs or stretch them
out until they fit the iron frame? Tell me, is this true?"
"It is true! it is true!" sobbed Procrustes; "and now kindly touch the
spring above my head and let me go, and you shall have everything that I
possess."
But Theseus turned away. "You are caught," he said, "in the trap which
you set for others and for me. There is no mercy for the man who shows
no mercy;" and he went out of the room, and left the wretch to perish by
his own cruel device.
Theseus looked through the house and found there great wealth of gold
and silver and costly things which Procrustes had taken from the
strangers who had fallen into his hands. He went into the dining hall,
and there indeed was the table spread with a rich feast of meats and
drinks and delicacies such as no king would scorn; but there was a seat
and a plate for only the host, and none at all for guests.
Then the girl whose fair face Theseus had seen among the vines, came
running into the house; and she seized the young hero's hands and
blessed and thanked him because he had rid the world of the cruel
Procrustes.
"Only a month ago," she said, "my father, a rich merchant of Athens, was
traveling towards Eleusis, and I was with him, happy and care-free as
any bird in the green woods. This robber lured us into his den, for we
had much gold with us. My father, he stretched upon his iron bed; but
me, he made his slave."
Then Theseus called together all the inmates of the house, poor wretches
whom Procrustes had forced to serve him; and he parted the robber's
spoils among them and told them that they were free to go wheresoever
they wished. And on the next day he went on, through the narrow crooked
ways among the mountains and hills, and came at last to the plain of
Athens, and saw the noble city and, in its midst, the rocky height where
the great Temple of Athena stood; and, a little way from the temple, he
saw the white walls of the palace of the king.
When Theseus entered the city and went walking up the street everybody
wondered who the tall, fair youth could be. But the fame of his deeds
had gone before him, and soon it was whispered that this was the hero
who had slain the robbers in the mountains and had wrestled with Cercyon
at Eleusis and had caught Procrustes in his own cunning trap.
"Tell us no such thing!" said some butchers who were driving their
loaded carts to market. "The lad is better suited to sing sweet songs to
the ladies than to fight robbers and wrestle with giants."
"See his silken black hair!" said one.
"And his girlish face!" said another.
"And his long coat dangling about his legs!" said a third.
"And his golden sandals!" said a fourth.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the first; "I wager that he never lifted a ten-pound
weight in his life. Think of such a fellow as he hurling old Sciron from
the cliffs! Nonsense!"
Theseus heard all this talk as he strode along, and it angered him not a
little; but he had not come to Athens to quarrel with butchers. Without
speaking a word he walked straight up to the foremost cart, and, before
its driver had time to think, took hold of the slaughtered ox that was
being hauled to market, and hurled it high over the tops of the houses
into the garden beyond. Then he did likewise with the oxen in the
second, the third, and the fourth wagons, and, turning about, went on
his way, and left the wonder-stricken butchers staring after him,
speechless, in the street.
He climbed the stairway which led to the top of the steep, rocky hill,
and his heart beat fast in his bosom as he stood on the threshold of his
father's palace.
"Where is the king?" he asked of the guard.
"You cannot see the king," was the answer; "but I will take you to his
nephews."
The man led the way into the feast hall, and there Theseus saw his fifty
cousins sitting about the table, and eating and drinking and making
merry; and there was a great noise of revelry in the hall, the minstrels
singing and playing, and the slave girls dancing, and the half-drunken
princes shouting and cursing. As Theseus stood in the doorway, knitting
his eyebrows and clinching his teeth for the anger which he felt, one of
the feasters saw him, and cried out:
"See the tall fellow in the doorway! What does he want here?"
[Illustration: "'GREAT KING,' HE SAID, 'I AM A STRANGER IN ATHENS.'"]
"Yes, girl-faced stranger," said another, "what do you want here?"
"I am here," said Theseus, "to ask that hospitality which men of our
race never refuse to give."
"Nor do we refuse," cried they. "Come in, and eat and drink and be our
guest."
"I will come in," said Theseus, "but I will be the guest of the king.
Where is he?"
"Never mind the king," said one of his cousins. "He is taking his ease,
and we reign in his stead."
But Theseus strode boldly through the feast hall and went about the
palace asking for the king. At last he found AEgeus, lonely and
sorrowful, sitting in an inner chamber. The heart of Theseus was very
sad as he saw the lines of care upon the old man's face, and marked his
trembling, halting ways.
"Great king," he said, "I am a stranger in Athens, and I have come to
you to ask food and shelter and friendship such as I know you never deny
to those of noble rank and of your own race."
"And who are you, young man?" said the king.
"I am Theseus," was the answer.
"What? the Theseus who has rid the world of the mountain robbers, and of
Cercyon the wrestler, and of Procrustes, the pitiless Stretcher?"
"I am he," said Theseus; "and I come from old Troezen, on the other side
of the Saronic Sea."
The king started and turned very pale.
"Troezen! Troezen!" he cried. Then checking himself, he said, "Yes! yes!
You are welcome, brave stranger, to such shelter and food and friendship
as the King of Athens can give."
Now it so happened that there was with the king a fair but wicked witch
named Medea, who had so much power over him that he never dared to do
anything without asking her leave. So he turned to her, and said: "Am I
not right, Medea, in bidding this young hero welcome?"
"You are right, King AEgeus," she said; "and let him be shown at once to
your guest chamber, that he may rest himself and afterwards dine with us
at your own table."
Medea had learned by her magic arts who Theseus was, and she was not at
all pleased to have him in Athens; for she feared that when he should
make himself known to the king, her own power would be at an end. So,
while Theseus was resting himself in the guest chamber, she told AEgeus
that the young stranger was no hero at all, but a man whom his nephews
had hired to kill him, for they had grown tired of waiting for him to
die. The poor old king was filled with fear, for he believed her words;
and he asked her what he should do to save his life.
"Let me manage it," she said. "The young man will soon come down to
dine with us. I will drop poison into a glass of wine, and at the end of
the meal I will give it to him. Nothing can be easier."
So, when the hour came, Theseus sat down to dine with the king and
Medea; and while he ate he told of his deeds and of how he had overcome
the robber giants, and Cercyon the wrestler, and Procrustes the
pitiless; and as the king listened, his heart yearned strangely towards
the young man, and he longed to save him from Medea's poisoned cup. Then
Theseus paused in his talk to help himself to a piece of the roasted
meat, and, as was the custom of the time, drew his sword to carve
it--for you must remember that all these things happened long ago,
before people had learned to use knives and forks at the table. As the
sword flashed from its scabbard, AEgeus saw the letters that were
engraved upon it--the initials of his own name. He knew at once that it
was the sword which he had hidden so many years before under the stone
on the mountain side above Troezen.
"My son! my son!" he cried; and he sprang up and dashed the cup of
poisoned wine from the table, and flung his arms around Theseus. It was
indeed a glad meeting for both father and son, and they had many things
to ask and to tell. As for the wicked Medea, she knew that her day of
rule was past. She ran out of the palace, and whistled a loud, shrill
call; and men say that a chariot drawn by dragons came rushing through
the air, and that she leaped into it and was carried away, and no one
ever saw her again.
The very next morning, AEgeus sent out his heralds, to make it known
through all the city that Theseus was his son, and that he would in time
be king in his stead. When the fifty nephews heard this, they were angry
and alarmed.
"Shall this upstart cheat us out of our heritage?" they cried; and they
made a plot to waylay and kill Theseus in a grove close by the city
gate.
Right cunningly did the wicked fellows lay their trap to catch the young
hero; and one morning, as he was passing that way alone, several of them
fell suddenly upon him, with swords and lances, and tried to slay him
outright. They were thirty to one, but he faced them boldly and held
them at bay, while he shouted for help. The men of Athens, who had borne
so many wrongs from the hands of the nephews, came running out from the
streets; and in the fight which followed, every one of the plotters, who
had lain in ambush was slain; and the other nephews, when they heard
about it, fled from the city in haste and never came back again.