nought."
[Illustration: From the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman,
playing on his lyre.]
Again the herdsman gazed at him, and seemed to read his inmost soul.
"In sooth, I verily believe that, were death now to face thee, thou
wouldst gladly die for her. Go forth, then, and win thy bride, and I
will help thee all I can. If thou fulfil the first part of the test, I
will see to it that thou fail not in the second."
"Master," cried Admetus, "what meanest thou?"
"Go thou and enter the lists for Alcestis, and show thyself the best
man in the field that day. When they hail thee victor, and bid thee
come to fetch away thy bride, as her father willed, answer boldly that
the next day at noon thou wilt come in a chariot drawn by a lion and a
boar to bear her away to thine own land. Then do thou hasten alone to
the wood that lies on the road to Pheræ, five miles from Iolchos, and
there, by the temple of Hecate, wilt thou find me and the chariot
ready harnessed. Believest thou that I can do this thing?"
"O master, do I not see before me the lion lying tamely by the sheep
and the wolf by the side of the lamb? How can I doubt thy power?"
"So be it, then. One word of counsel would I give thee: in the day of
thy triumph forget not the gods."
"From my youth upwards have I honoured the gods, O stranger. How,
then, in the day of my triumph, should I forget them?"
"May they deliver thee in the hour of thy wealth, Admetus, and save
thee from blindness and hardness of heart! Above all, when thou art
coming home with thy bride, beware lest in thy haste thou pass by the
altar of Hecate without the tribute of a prayer. Mighty is the
goddess, and in her hands are life and death. The sun with his glad
warm rays shines down upon the bosom of the earth, and draws forth the
young corn from her breast, and with loving hand he paints the purple
bloom of the grape. But when summer skies are cloudless, and the
breath of the breeze smites hot upon the land, men pray for rain and
the cooling veil of mists to hide the parched and thirsty fields from
the cruel shafts of his rays. Even so is the might of Hecate; in one
hand she hath a blessing, in the other a curse. She may stand beside
thy wife in the hour of her need, and bring thy children with joy into
the world (for the life of all young things she loveth); or if she be
slighted, she can blast the parent-stock ere it hath time to bear
fruit, and cut off the fair promise of the race."
"Surely, I will not forget her," said Admetus.
"An hour before noon, then, on the day after the contest of the
suitors, I will await thee in the wood. May the gods speed thee in thy
trial!"
IV
On the day before the games were to be held Alcestis went on to the
roof of the palace, and looked down upon the great courtyard below.
All was bustle and confusion. The bronze gates stood wide upon their
hinges, and a stream of people passed to and fro. The chariots of the
suitors thundered across the pavement. Through the colonnades
re-echoed the clattering of horses' hoofs and the clanging of harness
chains, and from his post at the gateway the warder shouted his orders
to the pages and attendants. Far out across the country Alcestis
gazed and traced the white roadway where it wound over the bosom of
the plain. He for whom she was looking had not entered the courtyard,
and she strained her eyes to see whether, among all the folk who were
wending their way towards the city, she could find him. But the palace
stood high upon the hill, with the houses of the town nestling below,
and the folk upon the road were like flies, so small and black they
seemed upon the dusty highway. Many a long hour she watched upon the
roof, and still he came not. At length the sun went down behind the
mountains in a glory of crimson and gold, and the purple hills cast
their shadow across the silent plain. Then Alcestis laid her head upon
her arm, and great tears stole through her fingers, and fell upon the
cold stone parapet.
"Ah me, the gods are cruel!" she sobbed. "They have planted the seed
of love within my heart, and now they would have me tear it out. Hard
is a woman's lot. In bitterness of soul she sits within, whilst out in
the great world men fight for her beauty, as though she were some
painted image or lifeless weight of gold. On the slipping of a foot or
the cast of a die her fate may rest for weal or woe, and the happiness
of her life hang upon the issue of a moment."
Then she felt in her bosom for the lock of the Golden Fleece which
Admetus had given her, and drew it forth and kissed it.
"Alas, he has forgotten me! He is a great king now, and thinks no more
of the maiden in whose eyes he looked when he first came back from his
voyage."
Sadly she put the lock back in her bosom, and turned and went down the
turret-stair. It was close upon the hour when all the suitors were to
be feasted in the great hall, and with her sisters she was to sing the
pæan song at the pouring of the third libation. Full often had she
sung it in her father's halls; for only unwedded maidens, pure and
innocent of soul, might sing it, and ask for blessings on their home
and kindred, and return thanks to great Zeus, the saviour, for the
gladness of a well-filled board and the happy faces of friends and
kinsfolk round the hearth. Her heart was heavy within her when she
thought that now for the last time this task would be hers, and that
only one more sun would set before she would be far away in a strange
land, the wife of a man whose very name she knew not yet. Her one hope
lay in the words of the prophet and the will of her father, that she
should wed that man only who could come to bear her away in a chariot
drawn by a lion and a boar; and from the depths of her soul she prayed
that all might find the task impossible.
"Better to die a maiden," she thought, "than to be the prize of a man
I do not love."
As she reached the bottom of the stair she heard her sisters calling.
"Alcestis, Alcestis, where art thou? The feast is wellnigh finished,
and all men wait for us to sing the pæan song. Tarry no longer, but
hasten and come."
"I come, I come," she answered. "Yet the song of joy upon my lips will
echo like a dirge through the chambers of my soul."
And the sisters marvelled at her, and shook their heads.
"She hath always wayward fancies," they whispered, "and is different
from other folk."
Their hearts were a-flutter with hope and joy, for on the morrow they
would each one be wedded to a brave man, and go to a strange new land,
and be queens in their own palaces. So they took no heed of her words,
but tripped along the galleries with joyful feet, and took their
places in the crowded hall. After them came Alcestis. Slowly, and with
sad, unseeing eyes, she took her seat beside them.
Meanwhile Admetus had tarried alone outside the city walls. He had
sent his servants before him with his chariot and his gear to secure a
stabling for his horses and a sleeping-place for himself in the
crowded alcoves of the king's palace. But his soul longed for peace
and quiet, and he felt he could not face the noisy crowd before it was
needful. Time enough if he slipped into the great hall when the
company was gathering for the feast. Only then might he hope to see
Alcestis. So he turned aside into the quiet fields and wandered by the
winding stream. Behind him the dust rose in white clouds from the
high-road as the chariots of the suitors thundered up towards the
palace, and Admetus knew that many a brave and mighty hero would stand
against him on the morrow. Yet hope burned high in his heart, and he
felt that his love for Alcestis was a power which his rivals lacked--a
power which would nerve his arm and give him the strength of ten. The
desire of his heart went up to the throne of Zeus like the breath of a
good man's prayer; and Zeus heard the cry of his soul, and into his
veins he poured of that fire which runs in the veins of the
Immortals. On earth men know not what to call it, and they name it
with many names--inspiration, genius, and the spirit of prophecy, or,
when it works too far beyond their understanding, they call it
madness.
As the sun was sinking low in the sky, Admetus turned up the steep
roadway to the palace. In the courtyard he found his servants, and
they brought him water to wash with, and a change of raiment, and
clothed him as befitted one who had come to woo a fair princess. As
the shades of evening fell he entered the great hall, and mingled with
the company, and when the tables were spread, he took his seat among
the rest. But when his neighbour spoke to him, he would answer at
random, and ever his eye wandered restlessly up and down the hall to
find Alcestis. Now the feast drew to its close, and yet no womenfolk
appeared. At last one of the serving-men drew aside the great curtain
that hung across the doorway, and as the daughters of Pelias entered
Admetus felt his heart leap in his bosom, and he leant eagerly across
the table. The moments that passed before Alcestis came seemed
eternity, and when at length she entered, her eyes were cast upon the
floor, and she saw him not. But when she had taken her seat, the
silent voice of his soul sped across the great hall, and found an echo
in her heart, and she raised her eyes and looked at him, and for one
moment they two were alone in that crowded place.
And now the wine was mixed, and each man held out his cup for the
pouring of the third libation. Then Alcestis rose from her seat, and
her sisters played a prelude on their pipes. When the prelude was
ended she raised her voice and sang.
"O all-bestowing Zeus, Father Almighty, for the mercies thou hast
showered upon us, for the evil thou hast warded off, lo, with thankful
hearts we make libation of the sweet dark wine! O friend of the
stranger, who searchest out the secrets of men's hearts, midst the
whirlwind rush of the chariots and the dust of the wrestling-ring,
stand thou beside the brave man and the true! Make firm his axle-pin,
and the earth beneath him sure, and chain blind Fortune's hands. So
shall the prize fall to the most valiant. To those whose lives must be
moulded by another's will, grant thou patience and an understanding
soul, O Lord, and may the desire of their heart be according to thy
will. O father of gods and men, cloud-enthroned, who ridest on the
wings of the whirlwind, joy and sorrow by thee are blended into one
harmonious whole. By the sunshine of thy mercy, by the scorching fire
of thy wrath, open thou the blinded eyes of men to see the glory of
thy works. All hail to thee, saviour and king most high!"
As she sang the people marvelled, for her voice was as the voice of
some priestess of the gods filled with the breath of heaven.
When the feast was ended, the pages took down the torches from the
walls, and led forth the guests to the shadowy alcoves where each
man's couch was laid, and there was silence in the halls. On noiseless
wings Sleep glided through the palace, and stood by each man's side.
With gentle hands she soothed his weary limbs, and put fresh courage
in his heart for the contest of the morrow. But when she came to
Alcestis she found her gazing out upon the starlit sky.
"My daughter," she said, "come to my arms and lay thy head upon my
breast, and I will ease the trouble of thine heart."
"Ah, sweet Sleep, not to-night," Alcestis answered, "for with Zeus a
mortal's fervent prayer availeth much. I cannot stand beside Admetus
in the lists, but at least he shall not fail for want of a true
heart's prayer to-night."
So Sleep passed her by, and till the bright-haired dawn shone out in
the east Alcestis sat by the open window. When it was light she went
to rouse her sisters, for early in the morning they were to lead the
procession of the maidens to the temples of the gods and lay wreaths
and garlands before the shrines, while the men-folk gathered in the
plain to watch the contest of the suitors.
Now once more there was bustle and confusion in the city, and the
streets were thronged with eager folk hurrying to the lists. Ever and
anon there was a shout, and the crowd parted this way and that, like
the earth before a ploughshare, as a chariot thundered over the stones
bearing some proud suitor to the games. Last of all, when everything
was ready, came the king, Acastus, and took his seat beneath a canopy,
and the people rose as one man, and greeted him with cheers. Then came
a herald, and blew a call upon his trumpet, and one by one the suitors
marched up and stood before the king, and with a loud voice the herald
proclaimed each man's name and station and the contest he would enter
for that day. Truly it was a goodly sight to see them marching past,
strong men all, in the prime of life. Broad were their shoulders, and
their limbs were straight and brown, and the rhythm of their marching
was like the swell of the sea. Never since the day when all the heroes
gathered at the call of Jason for the search of the Golden Fleece had
there been such a goodly concourse of men in fair Iolchos. From all
the wide plain of Thessaly they flocked, from hill-girt Attica and the
Spartan lowlands, from Argolis and the green valleys of Arcadia, and
from the isles of the sea.
All the day long the people sat and watched the games, and ever and
anon a shout went up to heaven when a strong man overthrew his
adversary, or one swift of foot passed the others in the last lap of
the race. There was hurling of quoits, and leaping and wrestling, and
beneath the feet of the boxers the earth was trampled hard. Far away
across the plain the chariots flew, and the people shaded their eyes
with their hands, and strained to see which was foremost. But the dust
rose in clouds about the horses' breasts, so that till they were close
at hand no man could say who was leading.
At last the great day drew to a close, and once more the herald stood
before the king and blew a call upon his trumpet. Each in turn the
victorious suitors came forward, and when the herald had proclaimed
his name and the contest he had won, the king placed a crown of leaves
upon his head, and told him which of the daughters of Pelias was to be
his bride. Brave men were they all, and bravely had they fought that
day, but mightiest among the mighty had been Admetus of Pheræ. Last of
all the victors, the herald called his name, and he came and stood
before the throne; and the king placed the crown of leaves upon his
head and said,
"In token that thou hast proved thyself the mightiest in the field, I
place this garland on thine head, Admetus. Verily, the gods have stood
upon thy side and filled thee with the fire of heaven, so that the
strength of thine adversary was turned to weakness before thy might.
May they grant thee, in like way, to fulfil the last part of the task;
for, of a truth, it would grieve me to see one so mighty depart
without a prize."
Then Admetus answered boldly,
"But one more sun shall set, O king, before Alcestis shall be my
bride. To-morrow at noon will I come to bear her away in a chariot
drawn by a lion and a boar."
And those who heard him marvelled at his confidence.
V
The next day towards noon the king came forth and sat upon a throne in
the portico before the palace, and all the nobles and suitors stood
round about and waited to see if Admetus would fulfil his word. As the
sun stood high in the heavens there fell upon his ears a sound like
the moaning of the sea far away when a storm is at hand. Louder and
louder it grew, drawing nearer every moment, till at length, like the
break of a mighty wave, a host of cheering citizens surged through the
great bronze gates. Into the wide courtyard they poured, and then
stood back upon either side, and, up the alley in the midst, drove
Admetus in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. Straight across the
court he came, and, like well-trained steeds, the beasts looked
neither to right nor left, nor heeded the cheers of the people. With a
jingling of bells and the rattle of harness-chains, they trotted
between the ranks, and came and stood before the king.
"I have kept my word, O king, and have come to bear away my bride, as
the prophet of the gods ordained."
Then the king rose up and greeted Admetus.
"Right glad am I to see thee, Admetus," he cried, "and right glad that
my sister shall be thy bride. May the gods bless thy wedded life, even
as they have blessed thy suit this day!"
Thereupon the pages threw open the palace doors, and a chorus of
maidens came forth playing upon pipes, and singing a marriage hymn.
Last of all came Alcestis, clad in the saffron robes of a bride, and
to Admetus she seemed like the sun heralded by the stars of dawn.
Gently he took her hand and raised her into the car, and the people
piled rich tapestries and vessels of gold and silver beside them for
gifts of marriage. With a shouting and waving of hands the chariot
passed once more across the court and down through the echoing
streets, till at length they two were alone upon the white highway.
The joy that was born of their hearts threw a magic light on all the
land. The green grass waved in the meadows, the leaves danced gaily on
the trees, and from the thickets and bushes the birds sang songs of
gladness. On and on they drove, as in a dream, heeding neither time
nor distance. The glare of the dusty highway changed to the shade of
the woodland path, with green arches overhead, and a murmur of dancing
streams. Before the shrine of Hecate a shepherd had placed his
offering, and was standing with his hands held high in prayer. But
Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine, nor remembered when last
he had stood there and taken his strange team from his herdsman.
Without a thought he passed the altar by. As the gleaming chariot grew
dim in the distance, the shepherd turned and watched it, till the
curve of the road hid it from sight. Even then he stood and listened
to the jingling of the bells, as though he thought that still it might
turn back. But the bells grew fainter and fainter, till he heard but a
tinkle now and again borne back on the wings of the wind, and at last
he could hear that no more. Sadly he turned back, and stood again
before the shrine with outstretched hands, then silently disappeared
into the depths of the wood.
On went the two till the shades of night began to fall, and one by one
the stars came out in the sky. Now they drew near to Pheræ. High up
upon the hill the palace gleamed bright with many a torch, for
messengers had gone before to say that Admetus was coming with his
bride, and all the folk had gathered together to greet him on his
return. As they entered the city gates choruses of men and maidens
came forth to meet them, and up the steep hill the glad procession
wound, with the singing of hymns and playing of pipes. When they
reached the palace gates the maidens raised Alcestis in their arms,
and bore her over the brazen threshold, that no evil omen might befall
her as she entered her new home. Long and merry was the
marriage-feast, and ere it was over the night was far spent. But at
length the last libation had been poured, the last cup had passed
round the board, and the maidens stood waiting to take Alcestis to the
marriage chamber. So she rose and went with them, and they decked her
in the robes in which for the first time a young bride greets her
lord. When all was ready, they took down the torches from the walls,
and left her. Outside the door they formed in chorus to sing the
love-song till Admetus should come to his bride.
[Illustration: Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine.... Without
a thought he passed the altar by.]
Not long did they wait. With eager steps he came and drew aside the
curtain from the doorway. In the middle of the chamber stood Alcestis,
and never had she looked more fair. As the sweet notes of the
love-song stole softly through the door, she held out her arms to
Admetus. Her hair fell in a cloud about her shoulders, and her white
robe touched the floor. From the casement the pale moonbeams fell
slanting down, and cast about her a halo of light. With the silver
shimmer of her hair and the gleam of her outstretched arms, she seemed
to Admetus a messenger of the gods come down by the ladder of light.
With a cry of joy he stepped towards her. As he did so a terrible
thing befell. Between him and his bride there rose up two huge
serpents, and as he rushed towards them they circled Alcestis about in
their gleaming coils. The nearer he drew the more closely did they
clasp her, and their forked tongues flashed like lightning about her
head.
"Back, back!" she gasped, "or they will strangle me."
Unconsciously he fell back. As he did so the great beasts relaxed
their grip, and fell down in shining coils upon the floor; but their
heads waved to and fro above the ground, and when once more he took a
step forward, they rose up again about her with an angry hiss.
"Oh, leave me, leave me!" cried Alcestis. "The gods are angry, and
will not let thee touch me. Fight not against their will, or the
serpents will slay me."
"Nay, with these hands will I strangle them," cried Admetus.
Again he rushed forward, and again, before he could cross the room,
the monsters had wound themselves about Alcestis with a clasp of iron,
so that she could scarcely breathe. Just in time Admetus drew back, or
they would have squeezed the life from her. With a groan he turned and
fled from the room, and the love-song changed to a shriek of terror as
the maidens scattered this way and that before him. With head bowed
down and wide eyes full of horror, he staggered on like a drunken man,
and disappeared into the darkness of the silent hall. In terror the
maidens clung together, with whisperings like the twitter of
frightened birds. At length one more bold than her companions drew
aside the curtain from the door and looked into the chamber. Full in
the path of the moonbeams Alcestis lay stretched upon the floor. Her
eyes were closed, and her face was pale as with the paleness of death.
Yet there seemed nothing in the room that should have caused her to
swoon away. The maiden called to her companions, and together they
lifted Alcestis upon the couch, and ministered to her, till at length
she opened her eyes.
Admetus meanwhile had rushed through the deserted hall and out into
the moonlit court. All was quiet, save for one solitary figure, who
walked up and down in the shadow of the colonnade. As Admetus
staggered across the court, the man came out and stood across his
path.
"Whither goest thou, O king?" he asked.
Raising his eyes, Admetus found himself face to face with his strange
herdsman.
"My head burns from feasting in the crowded hall," he said, "and I am
come out to get the cool night air."
The herdsman answered him never a word, but gazed at him with his
strange piercing eyes. And Admetus glanced this way and that, but
could not meet that steadfast look.
"Why do the gods torment me?" he cried hotly. "What have I done that I
should be tortured on my bridal night?"
"Nay, think rather what thou hast left undone."
"Left undone?" cried Admetus, and pointed to the altar in the centre
of the court. "Seest thou not the fire still red from the burning of
the sacrifice? Not here only, but throughout the whole city, do they
steam with the savoury smoke."
"Altars may steam while hearts are cold, Admetus. One fervent prayer
before the solitary shrine availeth more than hecatombs of oxen slain
without a thought. Did I not stand before thee in the path this day
and lift my hands in prayer to Hecate? But with unseeing eyes didst
thou pass me by, and the goddess is wroth at thy neglect, and her
anger standeth between thee and thy bride."
And Admetus stood with eyes downcast before him, and had never a word
to say.
"Yet because I love thee I will help thee once again," the herdsman
said. "Go back upon thy road and offer now thy prayers. I too will
intercede for thee, and methinks that the voice of my pleadings she
will not disdain."