The Spartan Twins by Lucy (Fitch) Perkins
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Lucy (Fitch) Perkins >> The Spartan Twins
"Poor Pandora! She sat down beside the box and wept the very first tears
that were ever shed in this world. While she was weeping and blaming
herself for her disobedience and the trouble it had caused, she heard a
little voice, way down in the bottom of the box.
"'Don't cry, dear Pandora!' the little voice said. 'You can never be
quite unhappy when I am here, and I am always going to stay with you; I
am Hope.' So Pandora dried her tears, and no matter how full of sorrow
the world has been since, there has never been a time when Hope was gone.
If that time should ever come, the world would be a desolate place
indeed."
When he had finished the story, no one said anything at all for a minute,
and then Daphne looked up at the Stranger.
"Is that really the way all the troubles began?" she asked. "Because if
it isn't, I think it's mean to blame everything on poor Pandora."
"Why, Daphne!" said her Mother in a shocked voice; but the Stranger only
smiled.
"I should not be surprised if Epimetheus were to blame for a few things
himself," he said, stroking his beard. "Anyway, I'm sure he felt he would
rather have Pandora and all the troubles in the world than to live
without her, and men have felt the same way ever since."
"Well, then," began Daphne, her eyes shining like two blue sparks, "why
don't--?"
"Daphne! Daphne!" cried Lydia warningly. "You are talking too much for a
little girl."
The Stranger nodded kindly to Lydia. "Let her speak," he said. Daphne
spoke.
"Didn't Athena say Epimetheus would get tired of Pandora if she had an
empty head?"
"Yes," admitted the Stranger, "the story certainly runs that way."
"And have men felt like that ever since too?" Daphne asked.
"Yes, I think so," answered the Stranger. "Certainly women need wisdom
now as much as Pandora did."
"Then why don't they let us learn things the same as boys," gasped
Daphne, a little frightened at her own boldness. "Dion's always telling
me I can't do things or go to places because I am a girl. I want to know
things if I _am_ a girl. I can't try for the Olympian games and I can't
even go to see them just because I am a girl." She stopped quite
overcome.
Melas and Lydia and Dion were all too astonished to speak. Only the
Stranger did not seem shocked. He drew Daphne up beside him.
"My dear," he said, "a child can ask questions which even a philosopher
cannot answer. I do not know myself why the world feels as it does, but
it certainly has always seemed to be afraid to let women know too much.
It has always seemed to prefer they should have beauty rather than
brains."
"Yes, but," urged Daphne, "I don't see why I can't try for the games too,
when I am big enough. I can run just as fast as Dion and do everything he
can do."
Melas smiled. "Daphne is true to her Spartan blood," he said. "The girls
used to compete in the games at Sparta."
The Philosopher stroked Daphne's hair. "So your name is Daphne," he said,
smiling, "And you can run fast and you have golden hair! Did you know it
was to the fleet-footed nymph Daphne with golden hair that we owe the
victor's crown at the Olympian games, even though no woman may wear it?"
Daphne shook her head. "I don't know what you mean," she said.
"I mean this," said the Stranger. "It is said that once upon a time
Apollo himself loved a beautiful nymph named Daphne. But Daphne did not
love Apollo even though he was a God, and when he pursued her she ran
away. She was as swift as the wind, but Apollo was still more swift, and
when she saw that she could not escape him by flight, she prayed to her
father, who was a river god, and, to protect her, he changed her form by
magic. Her arms became branches, her golden hair became leaves, and her
feet took root in the ground. When Apollo reached her side, she was no
longer a beautiful maiden, but a lovely laurel tree. Apollo gathered some
of the shining leaves and wove them into a wreath. 'If you will not be my
bride,' he cried, 'you shall at least be my tree and your leaves shall be
my crown,' and that is why at the games over which Apollo presides, the
victor is still crowned with laurel. It was Apollo himself who gave us
the custom and made it sacred. So, my little maid," he finished, "you
give us our crowns even though you may not win them for yourselves, don't
you see? Isn't that almost as good?"
"Maybe it is," sighed Daphne, thoughtfully, "but anyway I'd like to try
it the other way." Then she slid from the Stranger's side to her Mother's
footstool, and sat down with her head against her Mother's knee.
"You are sleepy," said Lydia, stroking her hair. "It is time you children
were in bed."
"Oh, Mother," pleaded Dion, "please let him tell just one more story. It
isn't late, truly." Then he turned to their guest. "Those were very good
stories," he said, "but they were both about girls. Won't you please tell
me one about a boy?"
"Very well," said the Stranger, "if your Mother will let me, I will tell
you the story of Perseus and how the great Goddess Athena helped him to
cut off the Gorgon's head with its writhing snaky locks! There's a story
for you! And if you don't believe it is true, some day, when you go
to Athens with your Father, you can see the Gorgon's head, snakes and
all, on the breastplate of the Goddess Athena, where she has worn it ever
since."
"Is it the real Gorgon's head?" asked Dion breathlessly, "all snakes and
blood and everything?"
"No," said the Stranger, laughing, "the blood of the Gorgon dried up long
ago. It is a sculptured head that adorns the breastplate of Athena."
Then the Twins and Chloe listened with open mouth and round eyes to
another of the most wonderful stories in the world, while Lydia forgot to
spin and the wine-cup of Melas stood untouched within reach of his hand.
Even Lydia forgot all about time, and when the story was finished, the
moon had already risen and was looking down upon them over the wall.
Lydia pointed to it with her distaff.
"See, children," she said, "the Goddess Artemis herself has come to light
you to bed. Thank your kind friend and say good-night."
III
THE SHEPHERDS
The next morning Dion was wakened by feeling a cold wet nose wiggling
about in the back of his neck. It was Argos' nose. Dion knew it at once.
He had felt it before.
"Go away, Argos," he said crossly. He pulled the sheepskin coverings of
his bed closer about his ears and turned over for another nap.
But Argos was a good shepherd dog and he knew that his first work that
morning was to round up the Twins. So he gamboled about on his four
clumsy paws and barked. Then, seeing that Dion had no intention of
getting up, he seized the sheepskin covers and dragged them to the
floor.
"Bow-wow," he said.
Dion sat up shivering. "Good dog," said Dion, "go away from here; go wake
Daphne!"
"Bow-wow, bow-wow," said Argos, and bounded off to Daphne's room to wake
her too.
Dressing took only a minute, for the children each wore but one garment,
and there were no buttons; so, though they were sleepy and their fingers
were cold and clumsy, they appeared in the court while the roosters in
the farm-yard were still crowing and the thrushes in the olive trees were
in the midst of their sunrise song. Chloe had already gone out to feed
the chickens. Lydia was bending over the hearth-fire, and their Father
was just saying good-bye to the Stranger at the door of the court, and
pointing out to him the road to the little seaport town.
"You will probably find a boat going over to the Piraeus some time
to-day," he said, "and as they usually go early in the morning, it is
well for you to make an early start from here. May Hermes speed you
on your way."
"Farewell," said the Stranger, "and if ever a philosopher can serve a
farmer, you have but to ask in the Piraeus for the home of Anaxagoras. I
thank you for your hospitality," and with these words he was gone.
Melas had eaten his breakfast of bread and wine with his guest before
dawn, and was now ready for the day's work in the fields. The slaves of
Pericles were already in the farm-yard, yoking the oxen, milking the
goats, and getting out the tools. There were pleasant early sounds all
about, but the Twins hovered over the hearth-fire, for the morning was
chill; and Dion yawned. Lydia saw him.
"Come," she said briskly, "wash your faces! That will wake you up, if you
are still sleepy. And then I'll have a bite for you to eat, and some
bread and cheese for you to carry with you to the hills."
"Are we going to the hills?" asked Dion.
"Yes," said Melas. "To-day you must watch the sheep. Dromas has to help
me plough the corn-field. You are old enough now to look after the flock
and bring the sheep all safe home again at night. Come, move quickly!
'Still on the sluggard hungry want attends.'"
"They were up too late," said Lydia. "If they can't wake up in the
morning they must go to bed very early every night."
When Dion and Daphne heard their Mother say that, they became at once
quite lively, and were soon washed and ready for their breakfast, which
was nothing but cold barley-cakes left over from the night before and a
drink of warm goat's milk. When they had eaten it, Daphne put the bread
and cheese which Lydia had wrapped up in a towel for their luncheon in
the front of her dress and they were ready to start.
Melas and Dromas, the shepherd, were waiting for them at the farm-yard
gate when the Twins came bounding out of the back door, Dion with a
little reed pipe in his hand and Daphne carrying a shepherd's crook. The
sheep were huddled together at the gate, waiting to be let out.
"Be sure you keep good watch of that old black ewe," said Dromas to the
Twins as he went to open the gate. "She is a wanderer. I never saw a
sheep like her. She is always straying off by herself. Quarrelsome too.
Argos knows she has to be watched more than the others, and sometimes
when she goes off by herself and he goes after her, she just puts her
head down and butts at him like an old goat The wolves will get her one
of these days, as sure as my name is Dromas."
"Are there wolves in the hills?" asked Daphne.
"Maybe a few," answered Dromas, "but they don't usually come round when
they see the flock together, and a good dog along. You needn't be
afraid."
"I'm not afraid of anything," said Daphne proudly, and then the gate was
opened, the sheep crowded through, and Dion and Daphne with Argos fell in
behind the flock, and away they went toward the hills, to the music of
Dion's pipe, the bleating of the sheep, and the tinkling of their bells.
The children followed the cart-path westward for some distance, and then
left it to drive the flock up the southern slope of a rocky high hill,
where the grass was already quite green in places and there was good
pasture for the sheep. It was still so early in the morning that the sun
threw long, long shadows before them, when they reached the hill pasture,
though they were then two miles from home. The pasture was a lonely
place. Even from the hill-tops there were no houses or villages to be
seen. Far, far away toward the east they could see the olive and fig
trees around their own house. On the western horizon there was a glimpse
of blue sea. In a field nearer they could barely make out two brown
specks moving slowly back and forth. They were oxen, and Dromas was
ploughing with them. It was so still that the children could plainly
hear the breathing of the sheep as they cropped the grass, and the ripple
of the little stream which spread out into a shallow river and watered
the valley below.
The hillside was bare except for shrubs and a few trees, but there were
wonderful places to play among the rocks. Dion proposed that they play
robber cave in a hollow place between two large boulders; but as he
insisted on being the robber, and Daphne wouldn't play if she couldn't be
the robber half the time, that game had to be given up.
Then Daphne said, "Come on! Let's play Apollo and Daphne! I'm Daphne
anyway, and I can run like the wind. You can be Apollo, only I know you
can't catch me! I can run so fast that even the real Apollo couldn't
catch me!"
Dion looked scared.
"Don't you know the Gods are all about us, only we can't see them?" he
demanded. "Apollo may have heard what you said, and if he should take a
notion to punish you for bragging, I guess you'd be sorry. Maybe he'll
turn you into a tree just like the other Daphne."
"Pooh," said Daphne. "I'm not afraid. I should think the Gods wouldn't
have time to listen to everything little girls say! They can't be very
busy if they do."
Dion was horrified. "That's a wicked thing to say," he said. "You must
never speak that way of the Gods. Oh dear! This is bound to be an unlucky
day. This morning when Argos woke me, I was having a bad dream! That's a
very bad sign."
"It's a sign you ate too much last night," said Daphne. She said it very
boldly, but really she was beginning to feel a little frightened too, for
every one she knew believed in such signs and omens.
"Come along out of this place, anyway," said Dion. "Let's go somewhere
else and play. Let's go to the brook."
The two children came out of their cave between the rocks and started
toward the little stream, which was hidden from them by bushes. The sheep
were all grazing contentedly along the hillside, the old black ewe
browsing in the very middle of the flock. Argos was sitting on the
hill-top in the sunshine, watching them, with his tongue hanging
out. The sun was now quite high in the sky and the day was warm. The
children paddled in the water and built a dam, and sent fleets of leaves
down the stream, and played knuckle-bones on a flat rock beside it, until
at last they were hungry, and then they ate their bread and cheese.
When they had finished the last crumb, Daphne curled herself up on the
flat rock with her head on her arm.
"I'm so sleepy," she said. "I can't keep awake another minute."
You see, they had been up ever so many hours then, and the sunshine was
very warm, and the bees buzzed so drowsily in the sunshine!
"You and Argos watch the sheep," she begged, and was asleep before you
could say Jack Robinson.
Dion came out of the bushes and counted the flock like a careful
shepherd. They were all there, and Argos was still on watch.
"I'll lie down a little while, too," said Dion to himself, "but I won't
go to sleep. I'll just look at the sky."
He stretched himself out beside Daphne and watched the white clouds
sailing away overhead, and in two minutes he was asleep too.
How long they slept the children never knew. They were awakened at last
by a long, long howl, which seemed to come from the other side of the
hill. They sat up and clutched each other in terror. There was an
answering howl from Argos, and mingled with it they heard the dull thud
of many feet, the bleating of sheep, and the frightened cries of lambs.
"The sheep are frightened. There's a stampede!" cried Dion.
The two children plunged through the bushes and gazed about them. The
whole flock had disappeared! Their bells could be heard in a mad jangle
of sound from the farther side of the hill, Argos was barking wildly.
"Come on," shouted Dion, springing out of the bushes, "We must get them
back."
"Suppose it is a wolf!" shrieked Daphne, tumbling after him.
"We'll have to get the sheep back even if it is a bear," cried Dion, and
he tore away over the crest of the hill and down the farther slope.
Daphne followed after him, as fast as she could run.
The sheep were already a long distance away, in a region of the hills
which the children had never seen before in their lives, but they did not
stop to think of that. All they thought was that the sheep must be
brought back at any cost. They could see Argos barking and circling round
the frightened flock, and away in the distance a huge wild creature was
just disappearing into the woods.
On the children ran, over rocks and through briars, until at last they
reached the sheep, whose flight Argos had already checked. Dion ran
beyond to turn them back, while Daphne herded them on one side and Argos
on the other. When they had the flock together and quiet once more, the
children counted them.
"There's one missing!" cried Daphne, aghast. "And it's the old black ewe!
What will Father say?"
"It's all your fault," said Dion. "I told you you would have bad luck if
you spoke about the Gods the way you did. I shouldn't wonder if that
wasn't really a wolf that we saw. It may have been Pan himself! Or it may
have been Apollo, and he meant to show you that you can't run even as
fast as a sheep!"
"Anyway, the old black ewe is gone."
"Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall we do?" mourned Daphne.
By this time the sun was low in the sky, and it was late afternoon.
"The first thing to do is to get home as fast as we can," said Dion.
"Which way is home?" said Daphne.
Dion looked about him. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe Argos does. Here
Argos! Good dog! Take 'em home! Home Argos! Home!"
Argos wagged his tail, and ran around behind the flock.
"Bow-wow, bow-wow," he barked, and nipped the heels of the wether. In a
short time he had the whole flock moving toward a hollow between the
hills. As they trotted along behind the sheep, Daphne struck her hands
together in dismay.
"What else do you think I have done?" she cried. "I've left my crook in
the robber's cave!"
"And I left my pipe there, too," Dion wailed.
"We can't get them to-night anyway," sobbed Daphne. "We could never find
the place! And besides, it is too late. It will be dark before we get
home."
They trudged along behind Argos and the sheep in dismal silence. Argos
did not seem at all in doubt about the way home. He drove the sheep
through the hollow between the hills and across two fields, and brought
them out at last upon a roadway.
"This must be the road that goes by the house," cried Dion joyfully. For
answer Daphne pointed toward the east. There some distance ahead of them
was Dromas driving the oxen home from the day's ploughing.
Daphne clapped her hands for joy. "I knew Argos would find the way!" she
cried.
The bright colors of the sunset were just fading from the sky when they
reached the farm-yard gate. Dromas had gone in before them with the oxen,
and Melas himself was waiting to let them in and to count the sheep.
"Where is the old black ewe?" he said sternly to the Twins, when the last
sheep had passed through the gate.
"We don't know," sobbed Daphne. "We lost her. We lost the crook, and
Dion's little pipe, too. A wolf frightened the flock, and they ran away,
and--"
"_Maybe_ it was a wolf," said Dion darkly.
Then the Twins told the whole story to their Father. Melas did not say
much to them. He was a man of few words at any time, but he made them
feel very much ashamed. And when Lydia heard the things Daphne had said
about the Gods, they felt worse than ever, at least Daphne did.
That night, before the family went to bed, Melas kindled a fire upon the
little altar which stood in the middle of the court and offered upon it a
handful of barley, and prayed to Pan and to Apollo that Daphne might be
forgiven for her wicked words.
IV
SOWING AND REAPING
The children were not allowed again to take the sheep to the hills. "They
are not to be trusted," said Melas. "They are the sort of shepherds that
go to sleep and let the wolves find the flock. They are not real
Spartans."
Dion and Daphne felt this as a terrible reproach. Dromas now had to go
with the sheep, and so could no longer help with the other farm work, and
the ploughing and sowing of the corn-field had to be finished by Melas
himself. The Twins did their best to help. When Melas scattered the
grain, they followed with rakes and scratched a layer of earth over the
seeds. The crows watched the planting with much interest.
"Look at them," cried Dion to his Father one afternoon. "There are five
of them on that tree yonder, and the minute we get to one end of the
field they begin to scratch up the grain at the other."
"We'll fix them," said Melas shortly.
He sent the Twins to the house for sticks and straw and his old worn-out
sheepskin cloak and hat, and when they came back, Melas stuck two long
sticks of wood in the ground and bound a cross piece to them with strips
of leather. Then he wound the sticks with straw, and made a round bundle
of straw at the top. He tied it all securely with thongs. Then he dressed
it with the sheepskin and put on the hat. When it was done, it was the
scariest looking scarecrow you ever saw!
"I guess that will frighten the crows!" said Dion, as he gazed at it
admiringly. "It just about scares me."
"Caw, caw, caw!" screamed a crow.
A crow was flying right over his head! Dion shook his fist at him. "You
old thief!" he cried.
"I know one more thing we can do," said Daphne. "Lycias told me about
it." She got a small piece of bark and made a little amulet of it. She
punched a hole through one end and put a leather string through it.
Neither she nor Dion could write, so when she had explained what must
be done Melas himself took a sharp stone and scratched a curse upon crows
in the soft bark. When it was done Daphne hung it about the neck of the
scarecrow. "There," said Melas grimly, "I don't believe he'll go to sleep
on the job. He's a Spartan scarecrow! Now let's go home to supper, and
to-morrow we'll see how it works."
The next morning the very first thing the Twins did was to rush out to
the field and there, right on top of the scarecrow were three black
crows, and more were on the ground eating up the seed!
"After all we did, just look at them!" cried Dion.
"Caw, caw," screamed the crows.
"You don't suppose Father made a mistake, and wrote a blessing instead
of a curse on that amulet?" said Daphne anxiously. They ran back to the
house as fast as they could go. Melas was just coming out of the
farm-yard with a pruning-hook in his hand.
"Oh, Father," cried Dion, "the crows are roosting all over the scarecrow.
Maybe he wasn't a Spartan scarecrow after all."
"Anyway, he seems to have gone to sleep on the job," added Daphne.
Melas stared at the crows in angry silence. "You children will have to
get your clappers then, and just drive the old thieves away," he said at
last, "You will have to spend the day in the field watching them. I've
got to work in the vineyard. The vines must be pruned."
The Twins had not yet had their breakfast and they were hungry. So they
ran to the kitchen, seized some barley-cakes and a little jar of milk,
and in a few minutes were back again in the field. They sat down with
the wooden clappers beside them, and ate their breakfast in the company
of the scarecrow. All day long they watched the grain and rattled their
clappers, or threw clods at the black marauders. It was lively work, and
although they did not like it, they remembered the black ewe and stuck
faithfully at it all through the long day.
When the sun was high overhead, Lydia brought them some figs and cheese
and a drink of goat's milk. She also brought a message. This was the
message. "Father says you are to stay here until after dark. You are to
hunt around until you find a toad, and when you find it, you must be
sure not to let it get away from you. He is going to put a magic spell on
the field to keep the crows away, but the spell will not work except in
the dark. So you must stay here until he comes."
Between keeping off the birds and hunting for the toad, the Twins spent a
busy afternoon. And after the toad was found it was no joke to try to
keep it. It was a wonderful hopper and nearly got away twice. At dusk the
crows flew away to their nests, and the children were alone in the field
until the twilight deepened into darkness. Owls had begun to hoot and
bats were flying about, when at last they saw three dim, shadowy figures
coming across the field.
The shadowy figures were Melas, Lydia, and Chloe. Lydia bore a jar, which
she placed beside the scarecrow in the middle of the field. Melas took
the toad in his hand, formed the others in line, and then solemnly headed
the procession as the five walked slowly round the entire field, carrying
the toad. When they got back to the scarecrow again, Melas put the toad
in the jar and sealed it. Then he buried the jar in the middle of the
field, beside the scarecrow.
"There," said Lydia, when it was done, "that's the very strongest spell
there is. If that doesn't protect the corn, I don't know another thing to
do."
Whether it was the scarecrow, or the curse, or the spell, I cannot say,
but it is certain that the corn grew well that summer, and when harvest
time came, Melas was so proud of his crop that he decided to have an
extra celebration. So one day in late summer every one on the entire
farm rose with the dawn and hastened to the fields. It was the twelfth
day of the month, which was counted a lucky day for harvesting, and every
one was gay, as, with sickles in hand, slaves and master alike entered
the field of ripe grain. Melas and two other men led the way, cutting the
stalks and leaving them on the ground to be gathered into sheaves and
stacked by others who followed after.