“‘Less than the last,’ I said, and told him. I did not make much of it, not wishing to seem soft; but, as I say, your father understood men. He said, ‘I have seen the maiden. She should bear kings. And she is modest. This is hard for you and her.’ That table there was standing between us. Suddenly he struck it with his fist. ‘Surely, Pittheus, some god had my good in mind when he led me here. Tell me, what time of day do the girls go to the grove?’ I said, ‘About sundown, or a little before.’ ‘By custom only? Or is there any sacred law?’ ‘None that I know of,’ I answered, beginning to see his drift. ‘Tell the Priestess, then, that the maid will go tomorrow; and if she is there before daybreak, who will know but you and I? So we shall all three gain: I an heir, if heaven relents to me; you a grandson of decent blood both sides; and your daughter—well, two brides have come to me virgins, and I know a little of women. What do you say, my friend?’”
“‘In the gods’ name,’ I said. They have remembered my house today.’”
“‘Then,’ he said, ‘nothing remains but to tell the maiden; and if it is a man she has seen already and knows no harm of, she will be less afraid.’
“I nodded; but a thought stayed me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘She is of the Kindred; she must go consenting to the sacrifice, or it will lose its virtue. Let it rest between you and me.’
“When the first quarter of the night was gone, I went to wake your mother. But she was watching in her bed, with her lamp beside her. ‘My child,’ I said, ‘I have had a dream, sent I don’t doubt by some god or other, that you went to the grove before cocklight, to do your duty to the Goddess with the first of the day. So get up and make ready.’ She looked at me in the lamplight with wide still eyes and answered, ‘Why, then, Father, it will be sooner done.’ Then she said, ‘It is a good omen for the children.’
“Presently she came down wrapped in a foxskin cloak, for the night was chilly. Her old nurse, whom I had told nothing to, walked down with us as far as the shore, holding her hand, and chirping out like a cricket old wives’ tales of girls in this case whom gods had visited. We put your mother in the boat, and I myself rowed her over.
“I beached where the glade runs down grassy to the shore. Great clouds were banking in the sky; the moon shone blinking on the shining myrtle leaves, and the house of cedar-wood on the rocks by the water. As we reached it the moon went in. She said, ‘A storm is coming. But no matter; I have my lamp with me, and the tinder.’ She had brought them all the way, hidden in her cloak. ‘That must not be,’ I said, taking them from her. ‘I remember my dream forbade it.’ It went to my heart; but I feared some night-walking thief would see the light. I kissed her and said, ‘To such things as this people of our kin are born; it is our moira. But if we are faithful, the gods are not far away.’ So I left her, and she neither wept nor clung to keep me. And as she went from me, thus consenting, into the dark house, Zeus thundered in heaven, and the first of the rain began to fall.
“The storm came on quickly. I had not handled an oar since boyhood, and had ado to make the landing place. When I got there, wet through, I looked about for your father, to give the boat to him. Then I heard from the boathouse an old woman’s cackling laughter, and saw by the lightning the nurse sheltering from the rain. ‘Don’t seek for the bridegroom, King Pittheus; he grew impatient. Te-hee, young blood. I have got his clothes here, keeping dry; he won’t need them for this night’s work.’ ‘What do you mean, you old fool?’ I said; the crossing had not sweetened me. ‘Where is he?’ ‘Why, almost there by now, the Good Goddess give him joy of it. He said sea water was warmer than rain, and the maiden would need company, alone on such a night. A lovely man he is too; strips like a god; haven’t I waited on his bath since first he came here? Ah, folk don’t he when they call you Pittheus the Wise.’
“Well, Theseus, that is how your father came to your mother. As she told me later, she stood at first in the doorway of the Myrtle House, for fear of the dark within. When the levin-light lit heaven, she saw Troizen over the water, and the boat already far away; when it ceased her eyes were dulled with it and she saw nothing. Presently came a great clap close at hand, the sound and the flash together; and there before her, on the rocky slab outside the porch, all gleaming and glittering in a clear blue light, stood a kingly naked man, with dripping hair and beard and a ribbon of seaweed on his shoulder. What with her awe of the place, and her being overwrought, and the old woman’s tales upon the way, she did not doubt the Lord Poseidon himself had come to claim her. The next flash showed her to your father sunk on her knees, her arms crossed on her bosom, waiting the pleasure of the god. So he lifted her up, and kissed her, and told her who he was. Presently in the house she covered him with her foxskin cloak; and that was your beginning.”
He ceased. I said at last, “She has the cloak still. It is all worn and the fur is falling. Once I asked her why she kept it.” Then I said, “How was this hidden from me?”
“I bound the nurse with an oath that scared even her to silence. After the storm, your father went back the way he came; and I brought the Priestess to witness the proofs of what had been accomplished. But neither she nor anyone knew who was the man. Your father asked that of me; he said your life would be in danger even in Troizen, if the claimants in Attica knew what seed you came of. Your mother’s fancy prompted me. I gave it out for the truth. When my wish was made known, folk who had other notions kept it to themselves.”
He paused; a fly lighted on the gold rim of the posset cup, crawled down to sip the dregs, and drowned. He muttered something about bone-idle servants, and pushed the cup away. Then he sank into thought, gazing through the window at the summer sea. Presently he said, “But I have thought to myself since then, What put it into your father’s head, a sensible man past thirty, to swim the strait like a wild boy? Why was he so sure he had made a son, he who had married twice and never got one? Who can follow the way of the Immortal Ones, when their feet tread earth? And I have asked myself if after all it was I or your mother whose eyes saw clear. It is when we stretch out our hands to our moira that we receive the sign of the god.”
5
ABOUT SEVEN DAYS LATER, a ship touched at Troizen bound for Athens.
The Palace steward had taken my passage and seen to everything. But never having been on the open sea, I could not wait till sailing-time to see her, and walked down to the harbor. There she was, moored to the spit they call the Beard of Troizen: a dark-sailed ship, her sides painted with long serpents, her prow ornament an eagle with back-swept wings and a bull’s head; a ship of Crete.
Cretan ships seldom came to us, except at tribute-time. The Beard was in a stir, and the people had set a market up. The potter and the smith, the weaving-woman and the carver, the farm people with cheeses and chicken and fruit and honeypots, sat on the cobbles with their wares about them; even the jeweller, who as a rule only brought his cheap stuff to the harbor, was showing gold. The Beard was full of Cretans, doing business and seeing the sights.
The small dark seamen were working naked, except for the leather codpiece Cretans wear. They keep it on under their kilts, making a show which a Hellene finds somewhat laughable; much cry and little wool, as the saying goes. Some of those strolling round the market you might have taken for girls. At first sight, the company seemed all youths and graybeards. It was a custom in Troizen, as in most Hellene towns, if a man had done something very disgraceful, to shave half his face, lest he forget too quickly. The sight of men who on purpose had taken their beards off was something I could scarcely credit, even when I saw it. I was always feeling after mine; but it was too fair to show.