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PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN
not see that hope dawned upon us from the hour when thirtyfive thousand of us were admitted as soldiers, ay, and as conquerors, at Plataea? From that moment we knew our strength.
Listen to me. At Samos once a thousand slaves — mark me,
but a thousand, — escaped the yoke — seized on arms, fled to
the mountains (we have mountains even in Laconia), descended from time to time to devastate the fields and to harass their
ancient lords. By habit they learned war, by desperation they
grew indomitable. What became of these slaves? were they cut
off? Did they perish by hunger, by the sword, in the dungeon
or field? No; those brave men were the founders of Ephesus.”
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“But the Samians were not Spartans,” mumbled the old
Helot.
“As ye will, as ye will,” said Alcman, relapsing into his usual
coldness. “I wish you never to strike unless ye are prepared to
die or conquer.”
“Some of us are,” said the younger Helot.
“Sacrifice a cock to the Fates, then.”
“But why, think you,” asked one of the Helots, “that we
shall be so soon summoned back to Laconia?”
“Because while ye are drinking and idling here — drones
that ye are — there is commotion in the Athenian beehive yonder. Know that Ariamanes the Persian and Datis
the Mede have escaped. The allies, especially the Athenians,
are excited and angry; and many of them are already come in
a body to Pausanias, whom they accuse of abetting the escape of the fugitives.”
“Well?”
25
Malacus ap. Athen. 6.
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EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON
“Well, and if Pausanias does not give honey in his
words, — and few flowers grow on his lips — the bees will
sting, that is all. A trireme will be despatched to Sparta with
complaints. Pausanias will be recalled — perhaps his life endangered.”
“Endangered!” echoed several voices.
“Yes. What is that to you — what care you for his danger?
He is a Spartan.”
“Ay,” cried one; “but he has been kind to the Helots.”
“And we have fought by his side,” said another.
“And he dressed my wound with his own hand,” murmured a third.
“And we have got money under him,” growled a fourth.
“And more than all,” said Alcman, in a loud voice, “if he
lives, he will break down the Spartan government. Ye will not
let this man die?”
“Never!” exclaimed the whole assembly. Alcman gazed
with a kind of calm and strange contempt on the flashing eyes,
the fiery gestures of the throng, and then said, coldly,
“So then ye would fight for one man?”
“Ay, ay, that would we.”
“But not for your own liberties, and those of your children
unborn?”
There was a dead silence; but the taunt was felt, and its
logic was already at work in many of these rugged breasts.
At this moment, the door was suddenly thrown open; and
a Helot, in the dress worn by the attendants of the Regent,
entered, breathless and panting.
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PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN
“Alcman! the gods be praised you are here. Pausanias commands your presence. Lose not a moment. And you too, comrades, by Demeter, do you mean to spend whole days at your
cups? Come to the citadel; ye may be wanted.”
This was spoken to such of the Helots as belonged to the train of
Pausanias.
“Wanted — what for?” said one. “Pausanias gives us a holiday while he employs the sleek Egyptians.”
“Who that serves Pausanias ever asks that question, or
can foresee from one hour to another what he may be required to do?” returned the self-important messenger, with
great contempt.
Meanwhile the Mothon, all whose movements were peculiarly silent and rapid, was already on his way to the citadel.
The distance was not inconsiderable, but Alcman was swift of
foot. Tightening the girdle round his waist, he swung himself, as it were, into a kind of run, which, though not seemingly rapid, cleared the ground with a speed almost rivalling
that of the ostrich, from the length of the stride and the extreme regularity of the pace. Such was at that day the method
by which messages were despatched from state to state, especially in mountainous countries; and the length of way which
was performed, without stopping, by the foot-couriers might
startle the best-trained pedestrians in our times. So swiftly indeed did the Mothon pursue his course, that just by the citadel
he came up with the Grecian captains who, before he joined
the Helots, had set off for their audience with Pausanias. There
were some fourteen or fifteen of them, and they so filled up
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EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON
the path, which, just there, was not broad, that Alcman was
obliged to pause as he came upon their rear.
“And whither so fast, fellow?” said Uliades the Samian,
turning round as he heard the strides of the Mothon.
“Please you, master, I am bound to the General.”
“Oh, his slave! Is he going to free you?”
“I am already as free as a man who has no city can be.”
“Pithy. The Spartan slaves have the dryness of their masters. How, sirrah! do you jostle me?”
“I crave pardon. I only seek to pass.”
“Never! to take precedence of a Samian. Keep back.”
“I dare not.”
“Nay, nay, let him pass,” said the young Chian, Antagoras;
“he will get scourged if he is too late. Perhaps, like the Persians, Pausanias wears false hair, and wishes the slave to dress
it in honour of us.” “Hush!” whispered an Athenian. “Are these
taunts prudent?”
Here there suddenly broke forth a loud oath from Uliades, who, lingering a little behind the rest, had laid rough
hands on the Mothon, as the latter once more attempted to
pass him. With a dexterous and abrupt agility, Alcman had extricated himself from the Samian’s grasp, but with a force that
swung the captain on his knee. Taking advantage of the position of the foe, the Mothon darted onward, and threading
the rest of the party, disappeared through the neighbouring
gates of the citadel.
“You saw the insult?” said Uliades between his ground
teeth as he recovered himself. “The master shall answer for
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PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN
the slave; and to me, too, who have forty slaves of my own at
home!”
“Pooh! think no more of it,” said Antagoras gaily; “the poor
fellow meant only to save his own hide.”
“As if that were of any consequence! my slaves are
brought up from the cradle not to know if they have hides or
not. You may pinch them by the hour together and they don’t
feel you. My little ones do it, in rainy weather, to strengthen
their fingers. The Gods keep them!”
“An excellent gymnastic invention. But we are now within
the citadel. Courage! the Spartan greyhound has long teeth.”
Pausanias was striding with hasty steps up and down a long
and narrow peristyle or colonnade that surrounded the apartments appropriated to his private use, when Alcman joined
him.
“Well, well,” cried he, eagerly, as he saw the Mothon, “you
have mingled with the common gangs of these worshipful seamen, these new men, these Ionians. Think you they have so
far overcome their awe of the Spartan that they would obey
the mutinous commands of their officers?”
“Pausanias, the truth must be spoken — Yes!”
“Ye Gods! one would think each of these wranglers imagined he had a whole Persian army in his boat. Why, I have seen
the day when, if in any assembly of Greeks a Spartan entered,
the sight of his very hat and walking-staff cast a terror through
the whole conclave.” “True, Pausanias; but they suspect that
Sparta herself will disown her General.”
“Ah! say they so?”
“With one voice.”
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EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON
Pausanias paused a moment in deep and perturbed thought.
“Have they dared yet, think you, to send to Sparta?”
“I hear not; but a trireme is in readiness to sail after your
conference with the captains.”
“So, Alcman, it were ruin to my schemes to be recalled — until — until — “
“The hour to join the Persians on the frontier — yes.”
“One word more. Have you had occasion to sound
the Helots?”
“But half an hour since. They will be true to you. Lift your
right hand, and the ground where you stand will bristle with
men who fear death even less than the Spartans.”
“Their aid were useless here against the whole Grecian
fleet; but in the defiles of Laconia, otherwise. I am prepared
then for the worst, even recall.”
Here a slave crossed from a kind of passage that led from
the outer chambers into the peristyle.
“The Grecian captains have arrived to demand audience.”
“Bid them wait,” cried Pausanias, passionately.
“Hist! Pausanias,” whispered the Mothon. “Is it not best to
soothe them — to play with them — to cover the lion with
the fox’s hide?”
The Regent turned with a frown to his foster-brother, as if
surprised and irritated by his presumption in advising; and indeed of late, since Pausanias had admitted the son of the Helot
into his guilty intrigues, Alcman had assumed a bearing and
tone of equality which Pausanias, wrapped in his dark schemes,
did not always notice, but at which from time to time he chafed
angrily, yet again permitted it, and the custom gained ground;
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PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN
for in guilt conventional distinctions rapidly vanish, and mind
speaks freely out to mind. The presence of the slave, however, restrained him, and after a momentary silence his natural
acuteness, great when undisturbed by passion or pride, made
him sensible of the wisdom of Alcman’s counsel.
“Hold!” he said to the slave. “Announce to the Grecian
Chiefs that Pausanias will await them forthwith. Begone. Now,
Alcman, I will talk over these gentle monitors. Not in vain
have I been educated in Sparta; yet if by chance I fail, hold
thyself ready to haste to Sparta at a minute’s warning. I must
forestall the foe. I have gold, gold; and he who employs most of
the yellow orators, will prevail most with the Ephors. Give me
my staff; and tarry in yon chamber to the left.”
CHAPTER II
In a large hall, with a marble fountain in the middle of it,
the Greek captains awaited the coming of Pausanias. A low
and muttered conversation was carried on amongst them, in
small knots and groups, amidst which the voice of Uliades
was heard the loudest. Suddenly the hum was hushed, for
footsteps were heard without. The thick curtains that at one
extreme screened the door-way were drawn aside, and, attended by three of the Spartan knights, amongst whom was
Lysander, and by two soothsayers, who were seldom absent, in
war or warlike council, from the side of the Royal Heracleid,
Pausanias slowly entered the hall. So majestic, grave, and selfcollected were the bearing and aspect of the Spartan general,
that the hereditary awe inspired by his race was once more
awakened, and the angry crowd saluted him, silent and halfabashed. Although the strong passions, and the daring arrogance of Pausanias, did not allow him the exercise of that
enduring, systematic, unsleeping hypocrisy which, in relations
with the foreigner, often characterised his countrymen, and
which, from its outward dignity and profound craft, exalted
the vice into genius; yet trained from earliest childhood in
the arts that hide design, that control the countenance, and
convey in the fewest words the most ambiguous meanings,
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PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN
the Spartan general could, for a brief period, or for a critical
purpose, command all the wiles for which the Greek was nationally famous, and in which Thucydides believed that, of all
Greeks, the Spartan was the most skilful adept. And now, as,
uniting the courtesy of the host with the dignity of the chief,
he returned the salute of the officers, and smiled his gracious
welcome, the unwonted affability of his manner took the discontented by surprise, and half propitiated the most indignant in his favour.
“I need not ask you, O Greeks,” said he, “why ye have
sought me. Ye have learnt the escape of Ariamanes and Datis — a strange and unaccountable mischance.”
The captains looked round at each other in silence, till at
last every eye rested upon Cimon, whose illustrious birth, as
well as his known respect for Sparta, combined with his equally well-known dislike of her chief, seemed to mark him, despite his youth, as the fittest person to be speaker for the rest.
Cimon, who understood the mute appeal, and whose courage
never failed his ambition, raised his head, and, after a moment’s hesitation, replied to the Spartan:
“Pausanias, you guess rightly the cause which leads us to
your presence. These prisoners were our noblest; their capture the reward of our common valour; they were generals,
moreover, of high skill and repute. They had become experienced in our Grecian warfare, even by their defeats. Those two
men, should Xerxes again invade Greece, are worth more to
his service than half the nations whose myriads crossed
the Hellespont. But this is not all. The arms of the Barbarians
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EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON
we can encounter undismayed. It is treason at home which
can alone appal us.”
There was a low murmur among the Ionians at these words.
Pausanias, with well-dissembled surprise on his countenance,
turned his eyes from Cimon to the murmurers, and from them
again to Cimon, and repeated:
“Treason! son of Miltiades; and from whom?”
“Such is the question that we would put to thee, Pausanias — to thee, whose eyes, as leader of our armies, are doubtless vigilant daily and nightly over the interests of Greece.”
“I am not blind,” returned Pausanias, appearing unconscious of the irony; “but I am not Argus. If thou hast discovered
aught that is hidden from me, speak boldly.”
“Thou hast made Gongylus, the Eretrian, governor of Byzantium; for what great services we know not. But he has lived
much in Persia.”
“For that reason, on this the frontier of her domains, he
is better enabled to penetrate her designs and counteract her
ambition.”
“This Gongylus,” continued Cimon, “is well known to have
much frequented the Persian captives in their confinement.”
“In order to learn from them what may yet be the strength of
the king. In this he had my commands.”
“I question it not. But, Pausanias,” continued Cimon, raising his voice, and with energy, “had he also thy commands to
leave thy galley last night, and to return to the citadel?”
“He had. What then?”
“And on his return the Persians disappear — a singular chance, truly. But that is not all. Last night, before he re-
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