CHAPTER II.
CLEANOR, SON OF LYSIS.
The wealthiest, best-born, and generally most influential citizen inChelys was Lysis, son of Cleanor, father himself of another Cleanor, sonamed, according to a custom common in Greek families, after hisgrandfather. He was descended in a direct line from the original founderof the settlement, an Ephesian Greek, and was also distinguished by thepossession of the hereditary priesthood of Apollo. The family prideditself on the purity of its descent. The sons sought their brides amongfour or five of the noblest Ephesian families. The general populationof Chelys, though still mainly Hellenic in speech and habits of life,had a large admixture of Phoenician blood, but the house of Lysiscould not be reproached with a single barbarian _mésalliance_.
Lysis had been the leader and spokesman of the deputation which hadvainly approached the Roman commander. His house, in common with all theprincipal dwellings in the town, had been occupied by the Roman marines.But a _douceur_, judiciously administered to the sub-officer in command,had procured for him the privilege of a brief period of privacy. Hefound that his wife and children were still in ignorance of the Romanadmiral's decision. They did not, indeed, expect any very lenientterms--they looked for a fine, that would seriously cripple their means;but they were not prepared for the brutal reality. Lysis tasted for thefirst time the full bitterness of death when he had to dash to theground the hope to which they had clung.
"Yes," he said in answer to a question from his wife, unable orunwilling to believe her ears; "yes, it is too true--death or slavery."
Dioné--this was the wife's name--grew pale for a moment, but shesummoned to her aid the courage of her house--she claimed to bedescended from the great Ion himself, the legendary head of the Ionicrace--and recovered her calmness. Stepping forward, she threw her armsround her husband's neck. Her first thought was for him; her second,scarcely a moment later, for her children.
"And these?" she said.
Recovering himself with a stupendous effort of self-control, Lysisspoke.
"Listen; the time is short, and there are grave matters to be settled.It was hinted to me, and more than hinted, that I might purchase yourlife, Dioné, and my own. These Romans are almost as greedy for money asfor blood. What say you?"
"And these?" said the woman, pointing to her children, while her cheekflushed and her eyes brightened with the glow of reviving hope. "Canthey also be ransomed?"
"That is impossible," said Lysis.
"Then we will die."
"That is what I knew you would say, and I gave the fellow--it was theadmiral's freedman who spoke to me about the matter--the answer, 'No',without waiting to ask you. Our way is clear enough. My father learntfrom the great Hannibal the secret of his poison-ring,[3] and he handedit on to me. You and I can easily escape from these greedy butchers, butour children--"
He struggled in vain to keep his self-command. Throwing himself on acouch hard by, he covered his face with his cloak.
The children were twins, very much alike, as indeed twins very commonlyare, and yet curiously different. Apart, they might easily have beenmistaken for each other, supposing, of course, that they were dressedalike; seen together, any one would have said that such a mistake wouldhardly be possible, so great was the difference in colour andcomplexion--a difference that impresses the eye much more than itimpresses the memory. But whatever dissimilarity there was wasaccidental rather than natural. Cleanor had been seized at a criticalperiod of his growth with a serious illness, the result of exposure in ahunting expedition. This had checked, or more probably, postponed hisdevelopment. His frame had less of the vigour, his cheek less of theglow of health than could be seen in his sister's, of whom, indeed, hewas a somewhat paler and feebler image.
"We will die with you," said the twins in one breath. They often spoke,as, indeed, they often thought, with a single impulse.
"Impossible again!" said Lysis. "The priesthood which, as you know, Iinherited from my fathers, I am bound, under curses which I dare notincur, to hand on to my son. If the gods had made me childless--and,for the first time in my life, I wish that they had--I must have adopteda successor. This, indeed, I have done, to provide for the chances ofhuman life; but you, Cleanor, must not abdicate your functions if it isin any way possible for you to perform them. And then there isvengeance; that is a second duty scarcely less sacred. If you can live,you must, and I see a way in which you can."
"And I see it too," cried the girl, with sparkling eyes. "Cleanor, youand I must change places. You have sometimes told me that I ought tohave been the boy; now I am going to be."
"Cleoné!" cried the lad, looking with wide eyes of astonishment at hissister; "I do not know what you mean."
"Briefly," replied the girl, "what I mean is this. You masquerade as agirl, and are sold; I masquerade as a man, and am killed."
"Impossible!" cried the lad; "I cannot let you die for me."
"Die for you, indeed!" and there was a touch of scorn in her voice."Which is better--to die, or be a slave? Which is better for a man? Youdo not doubt; no one of our blood could. Which is better for a woman? Itdoes not want one of our blood to know that. The meanest free womanknows it. By Castor! Cleanor, this is the one thing you can do for me.Die for you, indeed! You will be doing more, ten thousand times more,than dying for me!"
"She is right, my son," cried Lysis. "This was my very thought.Phoebus, the inspirer, must have put it into her heart. Cleanor, itmust be so. This is your father's last command to you. The gods, if godsthere are--and this day's work might make me doubt it--will reward youfor it. But the time is short. Hasten, and make such change as youneed."
The twins left the chamber. When they returned, no one could have knownwhat had been done, so complete was the disguise which Cleoné's skilfulfingers had effected. The girl's flowing locks, which had reached farbelow her waist, now fell over her shoulders, just at the length atwhich it was the fashion of the Greek youth to wear them, till he hadcrossed the threshold of manhood. His were rolled up, maiden-fashion, ina knot upon his head. She had dulled her brilliant complexion by somepigment skilfully applied. His face, pale with misery, needed nocounterfeit of art.
Lysis and his wife had gone. By a supreme effort of self-sacrifice theyhad denied themselves the last miserable solace of a farewell, and werelying side by side, safe for ever from the conqueror's brutality. WhileCleanor and his sister waited in the expectation of seeing them, aparty of marines entered the room.
"Fasten his hands, Caius," said the sub-officer to one of his men, "andfirmly too, for he looks as if he might give us trouble. By Jupiter! ahandsome youth! What a gladiator he would make! Why do they kill him inthis useless fashion? The girl is your business, Sextus. Be gentle withher, but still be on your guard, for they will sometimes turn. But shelooks a poor, spiritless creature."
FOOTNOTE:
3: Hannibal carried about with him in the cavity of a ring a poison so deadly that it would destroy life in a few seconds. When about to be delivered up to the Romans by the petty sovereign--Prusias, King of Bithynia--with whom he had taken refuge, he killed himself in this way.