Then I saw Sostratos begin to rise. With the weight of a strong man on his back, and half-throttled, still the huge creature heaved up on his knees. I heard the blood-bay from the faces I had not seen. “Let go, Lysis!” I shouted. “Let go!” But I suppose his strength was nearly done, and he knew it was now or never. He set his teeth and squeezed his arm round Sostratos’ bull-throat. And Sostratos up-reared backward, and fell on him like a tree. There was a great silence; then the blood-voices cheered.
All I could see of Lysis at first was his arm and hand. It lay, palm up, in the dust; then I saw it feel for a purchase. Sostratos turned over. I saw for the first time in his wide face his little eyes; not the eyes of a boar in rage, but cold, like a usurer’s. Lysis began to struggle up on his arm. I waited to see him lift his hand to the umpire. It may be he was too angry to give in; but I think he was only too dazed to know where he was. At all events, Sostratos hurled him back on the ground so that you could hear the blow of his head meeting it. Even after that I thought I saw him move; but the umpire brought down his forked rod, and stopped the fight.
I jumped to my feet. Plato was holding me by the arm, saying something; I shook the boy off and climbed through the crowd, while people I had trodden on shouted and cursed me. I ran to the dressing-room, and got there while they were still carrying him in. They took him through to a little room at the back, where there was a pallet on the floor, and a water-tap shaped like a lion’s mouth, running into a basin. Outside, the next bout had begun. I could hear the cheering.
The man in charge said to me, “Are you a friend of his?”—“Yes,” I said. “Is he dead?” I could not see life or breath in him. “No; he is stunned, and I daresay some of his ribs are broken. But he may die. Is his father here?”—“We’re Athenians,” I said. “Are you a doctor? Tell me what to do.”—“Nothing,” said the man, “but keep him quiet if he wakes with his wits astray. Give him water if he asks for it, but no wine.” Then he looked up from Lysis and seemed to see me for the first time, and said, “He fought a fine pankration; but I wonder what made him enter, at his weight.” He went then to watch the fight outside, and we were left alone.
He was breathing, but very slowly, and so lightly that I could hardly hear. One side of his face was bruised all over; his nose had been bleeding and his scalp was cut. His forehead was split over the eyebrow; I could see he would never lose the scar. I drew down the old blanket they had thrown over him; his body was so battered and grimed that I could not tell what might be broken. I took a towel that was hanging on the wall, and washed from him the black blood, the oil and dust, as far as I could reach; I was afraid to turn him over. I talked to him, and called his name aloud; but he did not stir. Then I saw I ought not to have washed him; for the water was cold from the spring, and the place was made of stone; his flesh under my hands grew as cold as marble, and his mouth looked blue. I thought he would die as I watched him. Someone’s clothes were lying in a corner; I heaped those on him, but he still felt cold, so I added my own, and came in beside him.
As I held him, trying to put some life in him, and cold myself with fear, I thought of the long patrols with the Guard, in the winter mountains, when even the wolves in their caves had been warm together, and he had lain alone. “You gave me courage in battle,” I thought; “when I was unhorsed, you saved me and took a wound. After so much toil, who would not have looked for honey from the rock? Yet you offered it to heaven; there was only blood for you, and the salt-tasting sea. What is justice, if the gods are not just? They have taken your crown away from you, and set it on a beast.”
His mouth felt cold to mine; he neither opened his eyes, nor spoke, nor moved. I said in my heart, “Too late I am here within your cloak, I who never of my own will would have denied you anything. Time and death and change are unforgiving, and love lost in the time of youth never returns again.”
Someone was coming, so I got up. The light was darkened in the doorway. I saw that what filled it was Sostratos. He said, “How is he?” It was strange to hear human speech coming out of him, instead of a boar’s grunt. I was glad to see Lysis’ marks on him. “He is alive,” I said. The man came near, stared, and went away. I lay down with Lysis again. Bitterness filled my heart. I remembered his statue at school, done before I knew him; and thought how from a boy he had run and jumped, thrown the disk and javelin, swum and wrestled, and ridden on manoeuvre; how I myself had toiled, swinging the pick and throwing the weight, to balance my shoulders with my legs; how young Plato had run in armour; how all of us had sacrificed in the gymnasium to Apollo, the lord of measure and of harmony. This man had sold grace and swiftness, and the honour of a soldier in the field, not caring at all to be beautiful in the eyes of the gods, but only caring to be crowned. And yet to him the victory had been given.
The fight was over outside. The crowd was chattering, and someone was playing a double flute. Lysis moved, and groaned. He felt a little warmer. Presently he tried to sit up, and was sick. As I finished cleaning up, the doctor came in again. He pinched Lysis’ arm, and seeing him flinch a little said, “Good. But keep him still, for men who have been stunned sometimes die if they exert themselves soon after.” When he had gone, Lysis started to toss about, and to talk nonsense. He thought he was on a battlefield with a spear in his side, and ordered me not to touch it, but to fetch Alexias, who would draw it out. I was at my wit’s end, remembering the doctor’s words. While I was trying to lay him down, Sostratos came in again, and asked how he was. I answered shortly, but thought a little better of the man for his concern.
Soon afterwards the shouting began again outside; the final was on. It seemed hardly to have begun before it was over. I thought Sostratos must have finished his antagonist with a buffet; what had really happened was that this man, having seen Lysis carried off, had gone down on the ground almost at once, and given the bout away. I heard the herald announce the victor. The cheers were rather half-hearted; there had been neither a good fight nor any blood, so no one was pleased.
The crowd dispersed; outside in the dressing-room people chatted and laughed. Presently the man whose clothes I had put on Lysis came in to get them. It was getting cooler, but I dared not leave him to look for more, and hoped someone would come in. At last voices approached; Sostratos stood in the doorway, speaking to someone over his shoulder. The ribbons tied on him made him look like a bull going to sacrifice. As he paused, I heard the man who had been in for his clothes say, “Come, be easy, Sostratos; I went in just now and heard him talking. He will do till after the Games, and it makes no difference then.” I had forgotten that, except in Sparta, to kill in the pankration disqualifies the victor.
I sat looking at Lysis; then I heard someone behind me. Sostratos had come in after all. He peered into Lysis’ face, then asked me again how he was. I did not trust myself to answer. He began looking at me instead; suddenly he assumed fine manners, which sat on him like a violent-wreath upon a swine. “Why so downcast, beautiful youth? Fortune rules the Games. Will you spend the time of your triumph moping here, like one in prison? Come away and meet some of the other winners. It is time you and I knew each other better.”