Part 49

So Theseus bade his mother farewell, there on the white sea-shore, where long ago he had asked her first to tell him of his name and kindred. Sadly, yet with a good hope, he set out on his journey. The blue sea lay before him, and the white sails of ships glistened as they danced on the heaving waters. But Theseus had vowed a vow that he would do battle with the evil-doers who filled the land with blood, and for terror of whom the travelers walked in by-ways. So at Epidauros he fought with the cruel Periphetes, and smote him with his own club, and at the Megarian isthmus he seized the robber, Sinis, and tore him to pieces between the trunks of pines, even as he had been wont to do with the wayfarers who fell into his hands. Then, in the thickets of Krommyon, he slew the huge sow that ravaged the fair corn-fields, and on the borderland he fought a sore fight with Skiron, who plundered all who came in his path, and, making them wash his feet, hurled them, as they stooped, down the cliffs which hung over the surging sea. Even so did Theseus to him, and journeying on to the banks of Kephisos, stretched the robber, Prokroustes, on the bed on which he had twisted and tortured the limbs of his victims till they died.

Thus, amid the joyous shoutings of the people whom he had set free, Theseus entered into the city of his fathers, and the rumor of him was brought to Aigeus, the King. Then the memory of the days that were gone came back to Aigeus, and his heart smote him as he thought within himself that this must be the child of Aithra, whom he had left mourning on the shore of Troizen. But soon there was a strife in the city, for among the mightiest of the people were many who mocked at Theseus, and said, "Who is this stranger that men should exalt him thus, as though he came of the race of heroes? Let him show that he is the child of Aigeus, if he would win the heritage which he claims." So was Theseus brought before the King, and a blush of shame passed over the old man's face when he saw the sword and sandals which he had left beneath the great stone, near the Troizenian shore. Few words only he spake of welcome, and none of love or kindness for his child or for the wife who still yearned for the love of the former days. Then, at his father's bidding, Theseus made ready to go forth once again on his path of toil, and he chafed not against the hard lot which had fallen to his portion. Only he said, "The love of a father would sweeten my labor, but my mother's love is with me still, and the battle is for right and for law."

So in after-times the minstrels sang of the glorious deeds of Theseus the brave and fair. They told how at last at the bidding of his father he went forth from the gates of Athens and smote the bull which ravaged the broad plains of Marathon, and how in the secret maze of the labyrinth he smote the Minotauros. They sang of his exploits in the day when the Amazons did battle with the men of Athens--how he went with Meleagros and his chieftains to the chase of the boar in Kalydon--how with the heroes in the ship Argo he brought back the golden fleece from Kolchis. They told how at last he went down with Peirithoos, his comrade, into the gloomy kingdom of Hades and seized on the daughter of Demeter, to bring her to the land of living men. They sang of the fierce wrath of Hades when his lightnings burst forth and smote Peirithoos--of the dark prison-house where Theseus lay while many a rolling year went round, until at last the mighty Herakles passed the borders of the shadowy land and set the captive free.

And so it was that, when the heroes had passed to the home of Zeus and the banquet of the gods, the glory of Theseus was as the glory of the brave son of Alkmene who toiled for the false Eurystheus; and ever in the days of feasting, the minstrels linked together the names of Herakles and Theseus.

ARIADNE.

The soft western breeze was bearing a ship from the Athenian land to the fair haven of Gnossos, and the waters played merrily round the ship as it sped along the paths of the sea. But on board there were mournful hearts and weeping eyes, for the youths and maidens which that ship was bearing to Crete were to be the prey of the savage Minotauros. As they came near the harbor gates, they saw the people of King Minos crowded on the shore, and they wept aloud because they should no more look on the earth and on the sun as he journeyed through the heaven.

In that throng stood Ariadne, the daughter of the King, and as she gazed on the youths and maidens who came out of the tribute ship, there passed before her one taller and fairer than all, and she saw that his eye alone was bright and his step firm, as he moved from the shore to go to the house of Minos. Presently they all stood before the King, and he saw that one alone gazed steadfastly upon him, while the eyes of the rest were dim with many tears. Then he said, "What is thy name?" The young man answered, "I am Theseus, the son of King Aigeus, and I have come as one of the tribute children, but I part not with my life till I have battled for it with all my strength. Wherefore send me first, I pray thee, that I may fight with Minotauros; for if I be the conqueror, then shall all these go back with me in peace to our own land." Then Minos said, "Thou shalt indeed go first to meet Minotauros; but think not to conquer him in the fight, for the flame from his mouth will scorch thee, and no mortal man may withstand his strength." And Theseus answered, "It is for man to do what best he may; the gods know for whom remains the victory."

But the gentle heart of Ariadne was moved with love and pity as she looked on his fair face and his bright and fearless eye, and she said within herself, "I can not kill the Minotauros or rob him of his strength, but I will guide Theseus so that he may reach the monster while sleep lies heavy upon him."

On the next day Theseus, the Athenian, was to meet the dreadful Minotauros, who dwelt in the labyrinth of Gnossos. Far within its thousand twisted alleys was his den, where he waited for his prey, as they were brought each along the winding paths. But Ariadne talked in secret with Theseus in the still evening time, and she gave him a clue of thread, so that he might know how to come back out of the mazes of the labyrinth after he had slain the Minotauros; and when the moon looked down from heaven, she led him to a hidden gate, and bade him go forth boldly, for he should come to the monster's den while sleep lay heavy on his eyes. So when the morning came, the Minotauros lay lifeless on the ground, and there was joy and gladness in the great city of Gnossos, and Minos himself rejoiced that the youths and maidens might go back with Theseus in peace to Athens.

So once again they went into the ship, and the breeze blew softly to carry them to the homes which they had not thought to see again. But Theseus talked with Ariadne, in the house of Minos, and the maiden wept as though some great grief lay heavy upon her, and Theseus twined his arm gently round her, and said, "Fairest of maidens, thy aid hath saved me from death, but I care not now to live if I may not be with thee. Come with me, and I will lead thee to the happier land, where my father, Aigeus, is King. Come with me, that my people may see and love the maiden who rescued the tribute children from the savage Minotauros."

Then Ariadne went with him joyfully, for her own love made her think that Theseus loved her not less dearly. So she wept not as she saw the towers of Gnossos growing fainter and fainter while the ship sped over the dancing waters, and she thought only of the happy days which she should spend in the bright Athens where Theseus should one day be King. Gaily the ship sped upon her way, and there was laughter and mirth among the youths and maidens who were going back to their home. And Theseus sat by the side of Ariadne, speaking the words of a deeper love than in truth he felt, and fancying that he loved the maiden even as the maiden loved him. But while yet he gazed on the beautiful Ariadne, the image of Aigle came back to his mind, and the old love was wakened again in his heart. Onward sailed the ship, cleaving its way through the foaming waters, by the Islands of Thera and Amorgos, till the high cliffs of Naxos broke upon their sight.

The sun was sinking down into the sea when they came to its winding shores, and the seamen moored the ship to the land, and came forth to rest until the morning. There they feasted gaily on the beach, and Theseus talked with Ariadne until the moon was high up in the sky. So they slept through the still hours of night, but when the sun was risen, Ariadne was alone upon the sea-shore. In doubt and fear, she roamed along the beach, but she saw no one, and there was no ship sailing on the blue sea. In many a bay and nook she sought him, and she cried in bitter sorrow, "Ah, Theseus, Theseus, hast thou forsaken me?" Her feet were wounded by the sharp flints, her limbs were faint from very weariness, and her eyes were dim with tears. Above her rose the high cliffs like a wall, before her was spread the bright and laughing sea, and her heart sank within her, for she felt that she must die. "Ah, Theseus," she cried, "have I done thee wrong? I pitied thee in the time of thy sorrow and saved thee from thy doom, and then I listened to thy fair words, and trusted them as a maiden trusts when love is first awakened within her. Yet hast thou dealt me a hard requital. Thou art gone to happy Athens, and it may be thou thinkest already of some bright maiden who there has crossed thy path, and thou hast left me here to die for weariness and hunger. So would I not requite thee for a deed of love and pity."

[Illustration: CALLIOPE. (_Muse of Heroic Verse._)]

Wearied and sad of heart, she sank down on the rock, and her long hair streamed over her fair shoulders. Her hands were clasped around her knees, and the hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she knew not that there stood before her one fairer and brighter than the sons of men, until she heard a voice which said, "Listen to me, daughter of Minos. I am Dionysos, the lord of the feast and revel. I wander with light heart and the sweet sounds of laughter and song over land and sea; I saw thee aid Theseus when he went into the labyrinth to slay the Minotauros. I heard his fair words when he prayed thee to leave thy home and go with him to Athens. I saw him this morning, while yet the stars twinkled in the sky, arouse his men and sail away in his ship to the land of Aigeus; but I sought not to stay him, for, Ariadne, thou must dwell with me. Thy love and beauty are a gift too great for Theseus; but thou shalt be the bride of Dionysos. Thy days shall be passed amid feasts and banquets, and when thy life is ended here, thou shalt go with me to the homes of the undying gods, and men shall see the crown of Ariadne in the heavens when the stars look forth at night from the dark sky. Nay, weep not, Ariadne, thy love for Theseus hath been but the love of a day, and I have loved thee long before the black-sailed ship brought him from poor and rugged Athens." Then Ariadne wept no more, and in the arms of Dionysos she forgot the false and cruel Theseus; so that among the matrons who thronged round the joyous wine-god the fairest and the most joyous was Ariadne, the daughter of Minos.

ARETHUSA.

On the heights of Mænalos the hunter Alpheios saw the maiden Arethusa as she wandered joyously with her companions over the green swelling downs where the heather spread out its pink blossoms to the sky. Onward she came, the fairest of all the band, until she drew nigh to the spot where Alpheios stood marveling at the brightness of her beauty. Then, as she followed the winding path on the hill-side, she saw his eye resting upon her, and her heart was filled with fear, for his dark face was flushed by the toil of the long chase and his torn raiment waved wildly in the breeze. And yet more was she afraid when she heard the sound of his rough voice, as he prayed her to tarry by his side. She lingered not to listen to his words, but with light foot she sped over hill and dale and along the bank of the river where it leaps down the mountain cliffs and winds along the narrow valleys.

Then Alpheios vowed a vow that the maiden should not escape him. "I will follow thee," he said, "over hill and dale; I will seek thee through rivers and seas, and where thou shalt rest, there will I rest, also." Onward they sped, across the dark heights of Erymanthos and over the broad plains of Pisa, till the waters of the western sea lay spread out before them, dancing in the light of the midday sun.

Then with arms outstretched, and with wearied limbs, Arethusa cried aloud, and said, "O daughters of the gentle Okeanos, I have played with you on the white shore in the days of mirth and gladness, and now I come to your green depths. Save me from the hand of the wild huntsman." So she plunged beneath the waves of the laughing sea, and the daughters of Okeanos bore her gently downwards till she came to the coral caves, where they sat listening to the sweet song of the waters. But there they suffered her not to rest, for they said, "Yet further must thou flee, Arethusa, for Alpheios comes behind thee." Then in their arms they bore her gently beneath the depths of the sea, till they laid her down at last on the Ortygian shore of the Thrinakian land, as the sun was sinking down in the sky. Dimly she saw spread before her the blue hills, and she felt the soft breath of the summer breeze, as her eyes closed for weariness. Then suddenly she heard the harsh voice which scared her on the heights of Mænalos, and she tarried not to listen to his prayer. "Flee not away, Arethusa," said the huntsman, Alpheios, "I mean not to harm thee; let me rest in thy love, and let me die for the beauty of thy fair face." But the maiden fled with a wild cry along the winding shore, and the light step of her foot left no print on the glistening sand. "Not thus shalt thou escape from my arms," said the huntsman, and he stretched forth his hand to seize the maiden, as she drew nigh to a fountain whose waters flashed clear and bright in the light of the sinking sun. Then once again Arethusa called aloud on the daughters of Okeanos, and she said, "O friends, once more I come to your coral caves, for on earth there is for me no resting-place." So the waters closed over the maiden, and the image of heaven came down again on the bright fountain. Then a flush of anger passed over the face of Alpheios, as he said, "On earth thou hast scorned my love, O maiden, but my form shall be fairer in thy sight when I rest beside thee beneath the laughing waters." So over the huntsman, Alpheios, flowed the Ortygian stream, and the love of Arethusa was given to him in the coral caves, where they dwell with the daughters of Okeanos.

[Illustration: THE ORIGIN OF MAN. (_From an antique Sculpture._)]

TYRO.

On the banks of the fairest stream in all the land of Thessaly, the golden-haired Enipeus wooed the maiden Tyro; with her he wandered in gladness of heart, following the path of the winding river, and talking with her of his love. And Tyro listened to his tender words, as day by day she stole away from the house of her father, Salmoneus, to spend the livelong day on the banks of his beautiful stream.

But Salmoneus was full of rage when he knew that Tyro loved Enipeus, and how she had become the mother of two fair babes. There was none to plead for Tyro and her helpless children, for her mother, Alkidike, was dead, and Salmoneus had taken the iron-hearted Sidero to be his wife. So he followed her evil counsels, and he said to Tyro, "Thy children must die, and thou must wed Kretheus, the son of the mighty Aiolos."

Then Tyro hastened in bitter sorrow to the banks of the stream, and her babes slept in her arms, and she stretched out her hands with a loud cry for aid, but Enipeus heard her not, for he lay in his green dwelling far down beneath the happy waters. So she placed the babes amidst the thick rushes which grew along the banks, and she said, "O Enipeus, my father says that I may no more see thy face; but to thee I give our children; guard them from the anger of Salmoneus, and it may be that in time to come they will avenge my wrongs."

There, nestled amid the tall reeds, the children slept, till a herdsman saw them as he followed his cattle along the shore. And Tyro went back in anguish of heart to the house of Salmoneus, but she would not have the love of Kretheus or listen to his words. Then Sidero whispered again her evil counsels into the ear of Salmoneus, and he shut up Tyro, so that she might not see the light of the sun or hear the voice of man. He cut off the golden locks that clustered on her fair cheeks, he clothed her in rough raiment, and bound her in fetters which gave her no rest by night or by day. So in her misery she pined away, and her body was wasted by hunger and thirst, because she would not become the wife of Kretheus. Then more and more she thought of the days when she listened to the words of Enipeus as she wandered with him by the side of the sounding waters, and she said within herself, "He heard me not when I called to him for help, but I gave him my children, and it may be that he has saved them from death; and if ever they see my face again, they shall know that I never loved any save Enipeus, who dwells beneath the stream."

So the years passed on, and Pelias and Neleus dwelt with the herdsman, and they grew up strong in body and brave of soul. But Enipeus had not forgotten the wrongs of Tyro, and he put it into the heart of her children to punish Sidero for her evil counsels. So Sidero died, and they brought out their mother from her dreary dungeon, and led her to the banks of the stream where she had heard the words of Enipeus in the former days. But her eyes were dim with long weeping, and the words of her children sounded strangely in her ears, and she said, "O my children, let me sink to sleep while I hear your voices, which sound to me like the voice of Enipeus." So she fell asleep and died, and they laid her body in the ground by the river's bank, where the waters of Enipeus made their soft music near her grave.

NARKISSOS.

On the banks of Kephisos, Echo saw and loved the beautiful Narkissos, but the youth cared not for the maiden of the hills, and his heart was cold to the words of her love, for he mourned for his sister, whom Hermes had taken away beyond the Stygian River. Day by day he sat alone by the streamside, sorrowing for the bright maiden whose life was bound up with his own, because they had seen the light of the sun in the self-same day, and thither came Echo and sat down by his side, and sought in vain to win his love. "Look on me and see," she said, "I am fairer than the sister for whom thou dost mourn." But Narkissos answered her not, for he knew that the maiden would ever have something to say against his words. So he sat silent and looked down into the stream, and there he saw his own face in the clear water, and it was to him as the face of his sister for whom he pined away in sorrow, and his grief became less bitter as he seemed to see again her soft blue eye, and almost to hear the words which came from her lips. But the grief of Narkissos was too deep for tears, and it dried up slowly the fountain of his life. In vain the words of Echo fell upon his ears, as she prayed him to hearken to her prayer: "Ah, Narkissos, thou mournest for one who can not heed thy sorrow, and thou carest not for her who longs to see thy face and hear thy voice forever." But Narkissos saw still in the waters of Kephisos the face of his twin sister, and still gazing at it he fell asleep and died. Then the voice of Echo was heard no more, for she sat in silence by his grave, and a beautiful flower came up close to it. Its white blossoms drooped over the banks of Kephisos where Narkissos had sat and looked down into its clear water, and the people of the land called the plant after his name.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE.

In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thessaly there lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day he made soft music with his golden harp, and sang beautiful songs such as no one had ever heard before. And whenever Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to him, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear, and even the clouds sailed along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and the stream which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to show how glad his music made it.