WHEN Dawn lit all Aea with her golden smile, Simo the serpent declared at breakfast that he would away swiftly with Dolius and the son of Dolius.
“It is but just to sad-hearted Chloris, who sits in far Zacynthus bewailing her husband and her child, that we make an early start,” said he; therefore, when the meal was ended and some supply set aside for the journey, they went out, taking ropes as Simo bade them, and walked down to the seashore.
Circé, professionally interested to learn how the little snake would accomplish his purpose, yet doubting nothing, walked beside Amphion and spoke kind words of good counsel to the lad; for she loved him, and in her wisdom knew that he must grow into no common man. Dolius trudged in front with certain of the company of Odysseus, while the master of strategy himself, carrying Simo upon his goodly right arm, whispered an entreaty to the serpent.
“Take me also by stealth,” said he, “for Zacynthus of the shaggy woods is but a day’s sailing from Ithaca; and thus, although I desert my comrades, I shall return to patient Penelope and give immortal Circé the slip! ”
But Simo in no wise consented thereto.
“Nay, egregious Odysseus, fosterling of Zeus,” said he, “I cannot do as you would wish; for your steadfast word is given to the goddess. You have promised to abide with her for a year, and there is absolutely nothing left for you to do but play the game.”
And Odysseus of many devices spoke harsh words to Simo, but then, thinking upon his noble and long-suffering wife, apologised and entreated the serpent to carry her a message at some future time of his own convenience.
“That,” promised Simo, “I shall be able and willing to accomplish. I will also sting some of the Suitors if an opportunity offer.”
Meantime, Circé, in serious mood, addressed Amphion, but forgot his tender age and used comfortable words a little beyond the boy’s understanding.
“Every healthy child,” said she, “is born with the priceless promise of a reasonable mind; but grown-up people, having lost, or mislaid, their own reason, too often, with the best intentions, lie in wait to slaughter the infant’s mental capacity at the first sign of assertion. Thus the new-born intellect withers for lack of wholesome food, or becomes distorted and unlovely upon improper diet. May no such amiable but mistaken enemy lie in wait for you, Amphion.
“Respect the gods and goddesses, but have as little as possible to do with us. Waste neither fulsome flattery nor rude words upon the denizens of Olympus, for we are indifferent to either.
“Seek your account in humanity; be human; for within the scope and compass of man’s nature lie waiting, as seed in Earth’s warm bosom, greater virtue and wisdom, higher honour and dignity, than your race has yet achieved, or even imagined. Strive to win these treasures by the sole way in which they shall be won: seek them not from the unprofitable and empty skies, but within your own fertile heart. For there only they lie hidden. And know, for your warning and the warning of all humankind, that if you will not seek them there, with toil and sweat and courage; if you remain blind to the light set within your reach, false to your own generous promise, then all that you have yet accomplished will be lost, all that you have suffered will be wasted. Then Erebus and old Nox must swallow you again; destroy your hope and cast you headlong back, whence by infinite agonies you arose, from the dens of the brute and the caverns of the cave bear.
“Your salvation, Amphion, still lies safe within your own soul; but if the endowment of immortal reason is for ever spurned, as mankind yet spurns it, the penalty is inevitable; and no divinities will shed a tear for the creature that might have risen higher than their highest and accomplished better than their best, but chose earth before heaven and the waters of oblivion rather than the fountains of light.
“Remember there is no standing still, my gentle boy. Man must go forward, or the enemies hidden in his ancestry and the unsleeping spirits of his past will overtake him on the way. They lie in wait at every turn, ever eager and pitiless to pull him down; for at best a myriad years must pass before the last wolf howls in the heart of man and the last tiger lifts his lip to show a long white tooth.”
“I understand a little, great goddess,” said Amphion.
Upon the white strand Circé took an agate box from her bosom, presented it to Dolius and made a brief valedictory speech.
“The time is coming, fisherman,” said she, “when your brave and beautiful boy shall grow into a good and valuable man. In his eyes already I can read the working of the subliminal will — that tyrant and demon of the great, for ever driving the overworked, but sleepless, consciousness forward. It brings to the doer of deeds, inspiration; to the philosopher, thought; to the artist, creation. For man’s subliminal will is the dreamer, ever calling with trumpet voice to consciousness, that it should make the dream come true. And be his response what it may, the subliminal will of a great man is never satisfied. Hence the great are never happy. That, however, lies in the future for Amphion. Your son will be an artist, and devote his life to the making of beautiful things.”
“The first thing he’s got to make is his living,” replied Dolius, who was a plain man.
“Exactly,” answered the divine queen of the island, “and for that reason I give you this little box, which will help to solve the preliminary problem. It contains a single pearl, and when Amphion is twelve years old, and you find him drawing pictures on the rocks and moulding faces of his mother and father in the soft clay, take the pearl to Athens, sell it and let your son join the company of artists. He will do the rest, and you need fear nothing for him, because such is his quality that even the other artists can work his soul no harm.
“I doubt not,” she added, “that all-wise Simo would have been quite equal to the occasion when it arose; but I wish to have a hand in the boy’s future, and the price of the pearl will more than suffice to keep both him, your wife and yourself for the remainder of your days.”
Dolius having blessed the goddess for her bounty, the serpent bade all stand clear and they watched while his little bulk, no more than an amber and ebony streak upon the strand, suddenly grew and swelled and heaved enormous. In exactly two minutes he was a hundred yards long; his mighty girth seemed crusted with dazzling metal scales and towered aloft, as the walls of a great ship; his ruby eyes bulged big as umbrellas from his prodigious but impassive and sphinx-like countenance.
The enchantress manifested profound excitement, and while Dolius and Amphion were helped to his back on the shoulders of willing men, and bound in safety, the goddess spoke to Simo.
“How’s it done? Do tell me!” she implored.
“The subliminal will,” he answered, and winked his wonderful eye.
Amphion had now drawn up the luncheon basket full of good things, with a flagon of honey-hearted wine; and then, when the word was given, Simo rose without an effort into the morning sunshine, transcendant Odysseus honoured the departing travellers with a military salute and deathless Circé waved her golden scarf.
Having attained a needful elevation, the serpent went upon his way with such incredible speed that swiftly as light the isle Aeæan had dwindled to an azure bubble on the waters. Then it vanished, and Dolius was exceeding glad; but Amphion, to his own astonishment, found his eyes grow dim.
“Circé can be very, very good — when she likes,” he said, blinking the tears away.
• • •
They raised Zacynthus at twilight of that day and shortly afterwards descended upon the familiar shore.
Chloris, praying steadfastly to Helios as the sun sank, observed upon the god’s descending disk a little black object that reminded her of Simo, and ere she had finished wondering about it, the majestic serpent alighted and returned so swiftly to his normal inches that, before they knew it, father and son had tumbled on the sand.
Then did Chloris fly into her dear husband’s arms, and their knees melted and their hearts loosened for a little while.
At supper all talked at once, save Simo, and to each one their own adventures and tribulations seemed naturally the most tremendous. Chloris, after the manner of those who stay at home, displayed but little interest in the amazing incidents recorded by Dolius and Amphion; while they on their part failed to realise the significance of her lonely vigil, her protracted devotions and her magnificent faith. But happiness and joy made these three simple hearts content, and when Chloris asked her husband when next he would go a-fishing he answered:
“A fool I am; but thrice a fool may you call me if ever again I am found upon the wine-dark sea. Henceforth the grain-giving earth is good enough for Dolius. Onions and cabbage shall it bear for me, with lettuce and sweet roots, the apple and plum, and a fennel patch for Simo, our strength and our pride, so long as he blesses us with his company.”
But the serpent answered not, for he was already curled up and fast asleep in Amphion’s breast.