Phrynis rose. ‘The work begins to-night,’ I heard him say. ‘There is no
time to lose. Back to the city.’
“The soldiers clattered out, leaving me alone with Chares, who took my
hand and whispered hurriedly, ‘It is right you should know—though you
understand that no word must cross your lips. It is _there_, opposite
the place on the plan pointed out to you by Phrynis, that the machine
will be planted. This we have learnt through our spies. So important
is the secret that Phrynis would hold no meeting in the city itself,
and therefore have we come to this quiet place. You are to follow and
direct the work as soon as it grows dark.’
[Illustration]
“Can you at all imagine what a thrilling night that was for me when by
the light of torches I saw hundreds of men working under my direction?
At the time I was too preoccupied to wonder how it happened that I knew
exactly what to say and do. It seemed to me every now and then that I
had done and said the same things many times before and therefore need
not hesitate, nor even think. It was as though something was happening
in my sleep, quite easily and naturally.
“When the first streak of dawn was in the sky, the work was finished,
and, all at once worn out, I was almost carried by Chares to our
barracks, where I slept for hours. All the rest of that day we waited
in suspense, for, though we knew the war machine was ready, we were not
sure when the attack would be made.
“It came the next morning. Shouts and battle cries from the besiegers,
and terrific blasts from their trumpets were followed by flights of
arrows, as the huge monster moving towards us over the waste ground
beyond the walls drew near.
“I watched it, with my heart thumping. The ground already in the
possession of Demetrius had been levelled so that the ‘destroyer of
cities’ might move more easily, and I knew just where the mine would
strike it—if only we had not been deceived about the track over which
it was to pass!
“But suppose Demetrius had changed his plans? Or that the spies were
wrong? Suppose the machine should pass a shade too far on the right or
the left of the mine. It would then arrive safely beneath the wall, and
we should all, I thought, be destroyed. For never had I, or any of the
Rhodians, imagined such a monster as this!
“It was like a square castle upon wheels. Thousands of soldiers pushed
it forward, but their toil was made easier by the wheels or castors
which turned every way under the great frame supporting it. Nine
storeys I counted, with staircases leading up and down from one to the
other. The whole monster, half animal, half tower (as it looked), was
covered with iron plates like the scales on a serpent. In the front of
each storey there were little windows with leather curtains which moved
up and down, covering them—meant, no doubt, to break the force of the
stones and darts we should hurl in our defence. On it came, towering
above our walls, its windows like the awful eyes of some dragon,
glaring at its victims. As yet it had not begun to spit forth stones
and darts and flaming torches, but evidently it was only waiting for
this till it should be closer at hand, and more deadly in effect.
“While I held my breath in terror lest anything in my plan should go
wrong, I yet noticed with pride the spirit of our men who shouted
their battle-cries, and shot streams of arrows in return for those sent
over by the enemy foot-soldiers. Nearer and nearer came the monster—my
heart stood still—and then, just as I was feeling I must faint or
scream, with such a crash as to make the whole city totter, it suddenly
disappeared into the ground. _Almost_ disappeared, for only the topmost
and smallest storey was visible!
“At first it seemed as though the whole world had been suddenly struck
dumb. Not a sound was heard from either side, besiegers or besieged.
Then, after that moment of deathly silence a cry went up from the city
that was like nothing I ever heard. The next moment I felt the arms of
Chares catching me before I fell to the ground.
“The excitement and suspense had been too much for me, and when I
opened my eyes I was lying in our barracks, and Phrynis, Chares, and
crowds of other people, were waiting to embrace me, and call me the
saviour of our city.
“For the war had ended while I was unconscious. Phrynis afterwards
told me that messengers from many parts of Greece had for some days
past arrived at the camp of Demetrius, urging him to make peace with
us on our own terms. But he added: ‘It was the failure of his last and
greatest engine rather than the entreaties of his friends that decided
him to struggle no more for victory. The victory is ours, and we owe it
to you, Cleon, a child in years, but a man in genius.’
“Such praise as this might well have filled me with foolish pride and
vanity if I had not been quite sure that somehow or other I had been
_helped_. I had not thought out the plan at all. It had come ready-made
into my mind. But when I tried to explain this to Phrynis, he merely
laughed at what he called my modesty, and I could see he did not
understand. It was only Chares who understood, and made _me_ understand
also. But that came much later on, as I presently will tell you.
“Meanwhile everyone was mad with joy that the siege which had lasted
a whole year, and was the most wonderful and celebrated that had ever
happened, was over. Trumpets blew, bells rang, the city adorned with
flowers and crowded with rejoicing people gave itself up to festivity.
“But in all this triumph I had no share, for I was too ill and unhappy
to take any part in the victory rejoicings. Not only had excitement,
lack of food, and the long strain of the war injured my health but
sad news soon came to me from Athens, where my mother and sister were
living.
“Chares had taken me to live with him at his house in Lindus, a town in
the island not far from Rhodes, and there I heard that my mother was
dead. She was ill when tidings of my father’s death reached her, and
from the shock and grief of this news she never recovered. So the war
had robbed me of both my parents and separated me from my sister, to
whom some friend in Athens had offered a home.
“You may imagine that I was a very unhappy little boy in those first
days of victory, and it was not for a long time that I could bring
myself to take joy in the great work that lay before my friend, Chares.
“Almost as soon as the fighting ceased, he began the statue promised
to the god, Phœbus Apollo—that statue which became one of the Seven
Wonders of the World.
“To explain how such a statue as this, requiring enormous sums of money
and an enormous quantity of metal became possible to make, I must tell
you what happened after we made peace.
“Demetrius was a generous enemy, and just before withdrawing all his
troops from the island, he actually sent us all the very war machines
he had built for our destruction, saying that he could not sufficiently
admire our gallant defence! Now the materials of which these engines
were made were immensely valuable, and the citizens agreed to sell
them and to put the great sum of money they received for them at the
disposal of Chares.
“So Chares began his work, and for twelve long years I saw the famous
statue of the Sun-God growing under his hands in the open-air workshop
he used for his task.
“By the end of those twelve years I was, of course, a grown man. Many
things had happened. I had worked hard and was now a very famous
engineer, well known in all the islands of the Mediterranean. I had
caused my old home to be rebuilt, as well as the little temple to
Phœbus Apollo. I was married, and had little children of my own, who
played in the garden I had known as a boy. It was lovely as ever now,
for in that warm climate plants grow quickly, and once more it was full
of roses and fragrant with the scent of lemon groves.
“All this you must understand before I tell you what happened on the
evening of the day the great statue was finished.
“That evening Chares was my guest, and the next day was to be one
of special rejoicing. For not only was there high festival in the
city—because, at last, the statue was to be set up at the entrance to
the harbour—but it was also the marriage day of Chares and my sister,
Penelope, who had now come to live with us. By this time she was a
beautiful maiden of eighteen, and I was only too happy to think she was
to be the wife of my friend.
“Long after all the house was quiet that night, and everyone else
slept, Chares and I sat on the terrace that overlooked the sea, and
talked of the future and the past.
“‘Cleon,’ said Chares, after a silence, ‘have you no wonder about the
part you played in the siege, you being then but a child?’
“‘I have wondered, indeed, and I still wonder,’ I answered. ‘Often I
have seemed to be just about to understand the miracle of my knowledge
when I planned the overthrow of the war engine And a moment later I am
again confused.’
“‘Come!’ exclaimed Chares, after a silence. ‘Let us go to the temple in
the grove. It was there I made my vow to Phœbus Apollo, and it is just
that there I should return thanks on this, the happiest evening of my
life, when my work is at last finished.’
“We rose and walked across the moon-silvered lawn towards the little
temple gleaming white amidst the lemon trees.
“I can never forget the beauty of the night. We could hear the gently
murmuring sea where it lay under the moon, calm as a shining lake.
“The shadows of the trees lay motionless on the grass, and made a
lovely tracery upon the temple roof, and the air was full of sweet
scents. Once again, as when I was a boy, I picked a handful of roses,
and laid them on the altar at the feet of the statue, which, carefully
preserved during the war, stood once more on its marble pedestal. We
knelt before it, and Chares offered a strange prayer. From his words
I knew that he was praying to a _Spirit_, and that the statue before
which he prayed only represented one little idea (which was all we poor
human beings might understand) of some God greater than we could know,
or than any statue could suggest. His prayer ended, he turned to me,
and I saw him take something from the folds of his tunic. The moonlight
glittered on what I now saw to be a crystal ball which he put into my
hands.
“‘Look steadfastly within it,’ he said gravely. ‘Here, in this temple,
it may be, you will understand.’
[Illustration]
“Full of wonder, I began to gaze into the depths of the crystal, for
the moonlight was so bright that everything reflected in the ball
was plainly visible. At first I saw nothing but a little upside-down
picture of the temple itself, and the overhanging trees, but after
a moment this reflection melted away, and other scenes appeared,
dissolving and reappearing so rapidly that I could catch but a glimpse
of each. Then, all at once, a clear steady vision, upon which I looked
intently, took the place of these shifting ones. There were pyramids in
this scene, visible from the open door of a vast hall with sculptured
figures at the entrance. And in that hall I saw _myself_! But I was
not clothed in my ordinary linen tunic. I wore a strange robe, and a
still stranger head-dress, and I was bending over something that looked
like a plan of a building. For a moment I was puzzled, and altogether
confused—till in a flash I _remembered_, and as the truth came to me,
I gave a startled cry.
“Chares was looking at me with a smile as I raised my head.
“‘I was Sheshà—chief engineer and architect among the priests of
Egypt, long ages ago,’ I exclaimed.
“‘Do you understand now why you were able to plan that mine, and save
our city?’ asked Chares quietly. ‘It was knowledge you had already
gained in another far-away life, though you were ignorant whence it
came, and why the work was easy to you.’
“I was struck dumb with wonder, for not only did I remember my life as
Sheshà, but fragments of many other lives since then began to come back
to me, some vividly, some only as a sort of confused dream.
“But Chares put his hand on my arm and led me out of the temple.
“‘Leave your memories now, and let us go in and sleep,’ he said. ‘See,
a new day has begun—the greatest day for me in this my present life.’
He pointed to the east, where the first grey streaks of dawn were
visible, and I followed him into the house. So for the first time I
_remembered_. There have been many, many lives since, and in some of
them I again forgot all that had gone before. But, once more now, the
old man you know as ‘Mr. Sheston,’ remembers again, otherwise he would
not be telling you this story—which is nearly at an end.
“When the sun rose we were awakened by the sound of trumpets, the
clashing of bells and the shouting of the workmen who were dragging the
huge brazen figure on its wheeled platform from the workshop. Later on
in the morning, came the procession through the city, where Chares led
my beautiful sister up to the great temple. Children strewed flowers
before them as they passed through shouting multitudes, praising Chares
and showering blessings upon him and his newly made bride.
[Illustration: ‘IT WILL LAST FOR EVER’]
“By sundown, hundreds of workmen working with a will had set up the
statue, on a pedestal at the entrance to the harbour, and now crowds of
the citizens took ship, to view it from the sea.
“In a gorgeously painted barge, all my household, with Chares and my
sister in the places of honour, floated out of the harbour, and we
turned to gaze at the wonderful figure. It flashed and glittered in
the light of the setting sun, as though the god thus by a gracious
sign accepted the gift. A mighty and beautiful figure it was, towering
against the sky; a giant in bronze, proud, stately and awe-inspiring—a
fit memorial of the famous siege of Rhodes. Well might it become, as it
did, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
“‘It will last for ever—like the Pyramids!’ I whispered to Chares as I
took his hand.
“Little did any of us know that it would last little longer than one
lifetime. In eighty years that marvellous statue was a heap of ruins. A
great earthquake, which shook Rhodes to its foundations, shattered it
also to fragments, and only a memory of one of the most famous statues
in the world remained. And even that memory faded and grew false, for
legends gathered about the celebrated ‘Colossus of Rhodes,’ and men
actually believed that it had stood astride the harbour and that ships
in full sail passed under its huge body as under an arch.
“This could only have been thought possible by men who had forgotten,
or never knew, the beautiful Greek sculpture. Never could a Greek
artist have made a figure ugly and grotesque as this would have been,
if later descriptions had been true. And I who saw the statue daily,
smile when, sometimes even in these days, I read such a description of
it in books of history. Chares was a true artist, and his simple, noble
statue was worthy of him, and worthy of its fame as one of the World’s
Seven Wonders.”
* * * * *
Mr. Sheston’s voice died away, and at this moment Martha came in with a
lamp; the room was all at once lighted up, and the old man glanced at
the clock.
“I must take you back at once,” he said. “Aunt Hester will be getting
anxious.”
He rose quickly, and Rachel knew without being told that she mustn’t
ask him any questions. He had become the kind, ordinary old gentleman
he seemed to most people—not at all the same person who in the
firelight had looked so mysterious and had told her the whole long
story to which she had just listened, as though he were reading it from
a book!
As she lay in bed that night, Rachel’s mind was full of the great
statue and the great siege, and in imagination she saw the sun-god
proudly guarding the harbour of “Cleon’s” brave island.
“I _do_ wish there hadn’t been an earthquake,” was her waking
reflection.
[Illustration]
FOURTH WONDER
[Illustration: THE TEMPLE OF DIANA]
Lessons always began for Rachel with a chapter in the Bible which she
read to Miss Moore. She was allowed to choose her own chapter, and one
morning, as she opened her Bible at random, the word _Ephesus_ struck
her. She wondered why this name immediately reminded her of Mr. Sheston
and the story of Rhodes, for at first they seemed to have nothing to
do with one another. Then she remembered that on the map—(why it was
actually _seven_ days ago since he had shown her that map)—she had
seen the town _Ephesus_ marked on the coast of Asia Minor.
“Shall I read this? It’s the nineteenth chapter of the Acts of the
Apostles,” she asked suddenly, addressing her governess.
“Very well,” agreed Miss Moore.
So Rachel began to read how St. Paul, having come to Ephesus to preach
Christianity, had roused the anger of a certain silversmith, Demetrius
by name, who “made silver shrines for Diana.” This man, as it appeared
from the story, was greatly afraid of losing his trade, because so many
people were becoming Christians that no one, he thought, would care any
more for the silver shrines. He therefore tried to stir up the citizens
against St. Paul and his teaching, by calling together a great crowd
of people, to whom he declared that all the silversmiths and workmen
would suffer through this new religion of Christianity. “_So that not
only this our craft is in danger to be set at naught_,” he said, “_but
also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised,
and her magnificence should be destroyed, whom all Asia and the world
worshippeth_.”
Rachel read this with interest, for she had actually _seen_ some of the
temples built thousands of years ago, in honour of certain gods, and
she guessed that the temple for a goddess, “whom all Asia and the world
worshippeth” must have been particularly magnificent. She went on to
the next verse, which showed that Demetrius had succeeded in rousing
the people to defend their old worship: “_And when they heard these
sayings, they were full of wrath, and cried out, saying, ‘Great is
Diana of the Ephesians.’ And the whole city was filled with confusion
... some therefore cried one thing and some another: for the assembly
was confused, and the more part knew not wherefore they were come
together._”
Then the story went on to relate how a man called Alexander tried to
speak to the clamouring people, and could not make himself heard for
the noise, for “_all with one voice about the space of two hours cried
out ‘Great is Diana of the Ephesians.’_”
Thanks to Mr. Sheston’s story of Rhodes, and thanks also to her own
strange magical journeys, Rachel had some sort of picture in her mind
of the scene described in the Bible.
Ephesus was not so very far from Rhodes, and it was on the coast. There
must then, have been a deep blue sky above that temple round which
the people shouted “_Great is Diana of the Ephesians_,” and dazzling
sunshine, and a glimpse of wonderful blue sea!
Before Rachel had finished the chapter she had made up her mind to
ask Mr. Sheston about Diana of the Ephesians. She liked the name very
much, and it certainly sounded as though something interesting—perhaps
_exciting_ might be connected with it. Suppose it should even lead to
an “adventure”? She scarcely dared to hope for this, but all the same
there _was_ a little hope at the back of her mind.
Anyhow, there was something, though of a different nature, to look
forward to this very afternoon, for a little girl was coming to tea.
“She’s the daughter of an artist I happened to meet the other day,”
Aunt Hester had explained at breakfast time. “He turned out to be a
friend of your father’s, and, when he heard you were here, he said
he would like his little girl to meet you, so I invited her to come
to-day.”
“What is her name?” had been Rachel’s first question.
“I don’t know. I forgot to ask. But she’s about your age. She’s coming
early, so you needn’t do any lessons this afternoon.”
This in itself was good news, and by three o’clock Rachel was looking
out of the window for the expected visitor. But after all, when the
bell rang she was too late to see who was admitted, because for the
third or fourth time, she had moved across the room to the mantelpiece,
to look at the watch which lay there.
Aunt Hester opened the door.
“Here is Diana,” she said. “I shall leave you together to amuse
yourselves till tea time.”
“Oh, is your name really _Diana_?” exclaimed Rachel, forgetting to
shake hands. “How funny!”
“Why is it funny?” enquired the little girl, not unnaturally, while
Rachel swiftly looked her up and down.
She scarcely knew whether to think her very pretty, or only
curious-looking. She had a mop of red hair, big eyes, more green than
blue, and a little pointed face which reminded Rachel of the faces
of certain elves in an illustrated fairy-tale book she possessed.
Certainly she was rather like an elf altogether, light and slender,
with quick darting movements.
“Why is it funny?” she repeated. And, when she laughed, Rachel was
quite sure she was pretty, as well as curious.
“Only because I was reading about Diana in the Bible this morning—and
I liked the name.”
“It’s the name of a goddess,” her visitor announced rather importantly.
“I know. ‘Diana of the Ephesians.’”
The little girl looked puzzled. “I don’t know anything about the—what
did you say? Ephe—something? I was called _Diana_ because my father
was painting a picture of her when I was born.”
“What was it like?”
“Oh, it’s a lovely picture. She’s a girl running through a wood, and
she has a bow and arrows in her hand. And she’s dressed in a short
white thing—a tunic, you know, that comes to her knees. And her hair
in father’s picture is red, like mine, and there’s a little moon, a
tiny crescent moon, just over her forehead. And running behind her
there are some other girls who are hunting with her. Father told me
all about her the other day, because, you see, as I’ve got her name, I
wanted to know.”
“Tell me,” Rachel urged.
“Well, the Greek people worshipped her, father said. She was the twin
sister of Apollo——”
“I know about _him_,” interrupted Rachel eagerly. “Phœbus Apollo. He
was the Sun-God.”
“Well, Diana was the _moon_-goddess. I suppose that’s because she was
his twin sister? Sun and moon, you know. But, anyhow, she was the
goddess of hunting as well. And she loved to be free and live out of
doors in the woods. So do I—that’s why I’m glad my name’s Diana, like
hers. And her father, Jupiter, let her be free, and gave her some girls
called nymphs, to be her companions, and hunt with her in the woods and
on the mountains.... I think the Greek people had awfully nice gods and
goddesses, don’t you?”
“Awfully nice,” agreed Rachel. She was thinking of the little white
temple to Phœbus Apollo in “Cleon’s” beautiful garden, and of the great
statue at Rhodes. She glanced at Diana, who was perched like an elf
on the corner of the table, swinging her feet. How splendid it would
be if she could tell her—well, all sorts of things. But would she
understand? Wouldn’t she laugh and say, “You’ve just made them up!”
Again Rachel glanced at her visitor. She looked as though she _might_
understand. There was something about her—But she determined to be
very cautious.
“When’s your birthday?” she began suddenly.
“The seventh of May. When’s yours?”
“The seventh of June.” Rachel found herself growing excited. This was a
promising beginning.
“How many brothers and sisters have you got?”
“Six.”
“Then you’re the seventh child?” Rachel held her breath now.
“Yes. And I’m the youngest.”
“So am I. And is your father the seventh child in his family?” She
scarcely dared to put the question.
Diana laughed, and began counting on her fingers. “Let me see—Uncle
John, Aunt Margaret.... And there was Aunt May, but she died, and then
Uncle Dick.... And then.... Yes, he _is_. I never thought about it
before. What made _you_ think of it?” Diana seemed much amused, but
Rachel was desperately serious.
“Wait a minute,” she urged, “and perhaps I’ll tell you.”
The next “minute” was occupied in putting breathless questions to Diana.
“Yes!” she exclaimed at last. “You’re just as much mixed up with
_sevens_ as I am. Oh, isn’t it perfectly _wonderful_ that I’ve actually
found someone as lucky as I am? I shall have to tell Mr. Sheston....
But perhaps he knows. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he had
something to do with getting us to meet each other. You see he——”
But Diana’s mystified face checked Rachel in the midst of her excited
chattering.