All this had brought us on to the time when shadows lengthen. The clouds had cleared, and a sunlight like golden wine lay on the mountains. I said to Pylas, “One can’t travel these hills in darkness; yet what a pity to throw down such a feast as this like men upon the march. Why not find a hollow out of the wind, and some brush to sleep on? Then we can sing and tell tales till midnight.”
His bright gray eyes opened wide. Then he looked as if he was going to laugh. But he wiped it from his face, and said courteously that nothing could be better. I turned to my troop; and saw them all in a huddle. Bias came up and muttered in my ear. “Theseus. Isn’t that going too far?” “How so?” I said. He whispered, “Surely you know the King never sleeps out.”
I had not given it a thought, I had been so pleased to be living again like a man among men. For nothing on earth would I excuse myself now to Pylas, and be the mock of his Hellenes. “There is a first time,” I said, “for everything.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t you see? As it is you have put your life in hazard, after Madam said not. And you have killed a she-pig. And now, if you sleep out, she will think you’re with a woman.”
He meant well, but it had gone far enough. “Those are things for man and wife to settle between them. You have spoken, Bias, and I have listened. Now go and help the others.”
The spits were fixed, the tinder kindled. Evening fell, and the hollow was filled with firelight as an offering bowl with wine. Wine indeed was all we lacked; when lo, men came up from a village below, with a whole skin of it, to thank us for killing Phaia. They stared at the trophy, and I thought, “By dark the news will be in Eleusis. Well, in for a calf, in for a cow.”
The meat was done, and our teeth were sharp for it. Pylas shared with me his cup of horn rimmed with gold; the rest tipped the wineskin. Everyone sang, Hellenes and Minyans picking up each other’s refrains. My lads were first constrained, then wild; Hellenes for tonight, but in awe of the morrow. I had thoughts of it myself.
As the noise grew loud, Pylas and I moved up together. It was a time for talk. For this I had killed Phaia. Yet I felt my youth more now than when she was on my spear. Often at Troizen I had helped my grandfather entertain such men. I had made myself civil in Hall; told the harper what to compliment them on, or sung to them myself; taken them hunting, to see they got good sport without being killed; and seen them off with their guest gifts, after they came down from the upper room with their business over. I had been a lad on the fringe of men’s affairs. While I was thinking this, I heard a Megarian mutter, “As the Queen gets older, the kings get younger. Now here is one with no beard.”
This did me a good turn. For Pylas, being a gentleman and fearing I had heard, asked me to relate how I killed Skiron. It was half my work done for me.
After the songs had begun again, we were still speaking of the Isthmus. I said, “I fought my way through alive, and that’s one man’s work there. But by now someone else is working Skiron’s bit of road. So it will be, till the place is swept clean end to end. Not one man’s work, nor one kingdom’s either.” The singing was loud; the wine had just been round again. I said, “Two might do it.”
I saw his eyes shine. But he was shrewd, and had lived ten good years longer in the world than I. “That would be a war! But would it tempt the Eleusinians? What about their sea trade, if the road were open?” I shook my head; I had given this thought. “The road runs through Eleusis too. It would bring them trade when winter closes the seaways. Besides,” I said smiling, “their cattle might fatten in peace, if the Megarians kept theirs.”
He laughed. I saw he was listening man to man. But I would soon lose him, if I sounded too simple or too rash. I said, “Your father would need to treat with Xanthos, the Queen’s brother, not with me. But everyone knows in Eleusis that he fights for what he can carry away. Tell him the robbers’ holds are stuffed with booty. That will make him listen.”
Pylas passed me his drinking horn. Presently he said, “You have thought this out well, Theseus. Tell me, how old are you?” I said, “Nineteen.” I almost believed it myself by now. He looked at me, and began laughing into his beard. “What have they done in Eleusis? They set traps for deer and got a leopard. Don’t they know it yet? Tell me, lad, why are you doing this? What will it be to you, this time next year?”
“When you die, Pylas,” I said, “they will make a tomb for you, lined with dressed stone. They will put your ring on your finger and your sword in your hands; your best spear they will give you, and your offering cup, and the cup you drink from in Hall. After a hundred years, when the ring lies loose on bone, old men will say to their grandsons, ‘That is the tomb of Pylas son of Nisos, and these were his deeds.’ And the child will tell his grandson, who will tell his. But in Eleusis dead kings are dug into the fields like horse dung, and have no names. If I don’t write my epitaph, who will?”
He nodded, and said, “That is a good reason.” But still he looked at me, and I knew what he was going to say.
“Theseus, I have lived near thirty years hard by Eleusis. I know how a man looks who foreknows his end. It is in the blood of the Earthlings; they go to it like birds before whose eyes the snake is dancing. But if she dances for the leopard, the leopard jumps first.”
He was shrewd; I should have been a fool to lie to him. I said, “Where I come from, it is the consent that binds a man.” Then I said, “But I might meet it in battle. Who wants to live on without a name?”
“Not you, that is clear. But with leaven like you working in the lump, the custom might alter in Eleusis. There are tales of such things, in our fathers’ days.”
His words waked thoughts that had lain sleeping in my heart. Now after my victory new things seemed possible, and I was too young to hide it. As I looked into the core of the fire he said, “Yes, and we might find you a restless neighbor.”
I liked his frankness. We understood each other. “This is your father’s ox we are eating,” I said, “and my prize. I don’t know which is host or guest, but we are hearth-friends either way.” He scanned my face with one of his sharp bright looks; then he took my hand and gripped it.
The fire crumbled; the ashes grew red and gray with a few sparks of gold; the dogs mumbled their bones full-bellied. As it grew quiet, we leaned and fell to whispering; I could see more than one of my Minyans lying awake to watch if he would make love to me. We agreed together to press for war that autumn rather than wait for spring; like me, he was one to decide on a thing and do it. “Ask your father,” I said, “to say he has heard that Kerkyon knows his way across the Isthmus. My young men won’t like to be a rear guard.” He laughed and promised. Then we slept; I on my face, because my back was sore. Next morning when we all set off home, he gave me his gold-rimmed cup as a guest gift. The Companions stared, and wondered if they had stayed awake long enough.
It was a little after noon when we got back to Eleusis. I saw the people looking out for us; they cheered the boar-mask, which two men carried on spears. I had had enough of hiding my doings like a naughty boy.
The Palace day room was empty of her, but only just. The chief nurse was still there with the children, and the shuttle swung from the loom. When I went upstairs, the chamber door was bolted.
I walked off with my face on fire. I was too young to take it easily. I thought it would be all over the kingdom that my wife could put me out like a slave. When I had knocked the second time, I had heard a maid giggle within; and two servants passed as I turned away, wiping smiles off their faces. She did not treat me so lightly when we were in bed.