“I too have not had the horror of death that is common to many, but not because of any thought of an existence continuing beyond this. The certainty of oblivion after a tumultuous life in this world of ours is reward enough for me. Surely the peace of nonexistence would be sufficient compensation.”
The smile on Persephone’s face was indicative of an inner knowledge out of which she derived supreme satisfaction and which was incomprehensible to Ladice.
An elderly man by the name of Moschion called excitedly from the gateway: “It will be necessary for all the women and girls who can, to help throw these stones upon the Persians who are climbing faster than we can prevent.”
Persephone and Ladice with others rushed to their task, rendering the needed assistance, though their fingers bled and their bodies, unused to such prolonged, strenuous labor, ached to the point of complete exhaustion. The additional help from the women turned the tide of fortune temporarily in their favor, and the Persians were forced to abandon their attack upon the well protected west side, but now they employed different tactics! They poured upon the wooden ramparts, arrows with burning tow attached to them and it was not long before the palisades were consigned to flames. Still the little group held its ground bravely, but Kyrsilus and Moschion at last sent the women into the temples where they soon joined them. Once within the sanctuary of the city’s patron goddess the frightened Greeks looked for a miracle, and indeed nothing short of a miracle could save them now! In this they were doomed to disappointment for the temple to Athena was the first to be reached by the hungry flames, and the frenzied Greeks were forced to abandon it for other smaller temples.
It was soon observed that Philinus was not with them. He had last been seen in prayer before the altar of Athena and doubtless there he had met his death! In unspoken terror all wondered who would be the next victim on the altar of oriental voracity. The chapel of Aglaurus was farthest from the flames and to it the terror-stricken Greeks fled. Here for a time at least was safety and possible salvation.
“Watch the north side now!” cried Kyrsilus, “The Persians may——” but the words froze on his lips, for there at the doorway stood fifteen or more of the besiegers, who had succeeded in scaling the precipitous northern side.
“To the rocks below, my daughter!” screamed Kyrsilus. “Do not forget my warning!”
An officer laid rough hands on the aged Moschion: “Old bald head, your time on earth is about up, anyway. You may as well journey on without delay. Old Charon is waiting to ferry you across the Styx.”
“Hold!” cried another voice, “I prefer to die first and not witness the end of these my followers.” It was Kyrsilus.
“As you wish,” cried the big Persian, “you are all to go anyway.”