Aeschylus was upon his feet in an instant.
“Rather should our friend here,” indicating Phrynichus, “be rewarded the sum of a thousand drachmas for the skill with which he depicted those scenes of woe.”
“Pay no heed to Aeschylus!” cried a voice. “He is a poet who probably entertains like ambitions. Phrynichus should be fined, not only for his own misdeed, but as a warning to aspiring poets that we care not to have presented to us thus our national tragedies.”
The sympathies of the group who were around Pasicles were with Phrynichus and Aeschylus, and so likewise were hundreds of others, but the majority resented the fact that they had been forced to yield to tears. The motion carried and the tragedian was forced to pay the penalty inflicted upon him.
As the crowds were leaving the amphitheatre Zopyrus espied Aeschylus and said as he approached him: “That was a good word you spoke for your elder friend. Our sympathies were with him.”
“Phrynichus I believe,” answered Aeschylus, “would rather lose the thousand drachmas than have failed to stir the hearts of the Athenians as he did today. The light of victory was in his eye, and mark you, Zopyrus, Conon has not frightened me either, for I intend to work on my ‘Persæ’ with the hope that my audience too will melt into tears! But I have unpleasant news for you, my friend. I am leaving soon for Sicily to visit Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. My promise to escort you to the Mysteries will have to hold over till another year, however you will find in the most noble Pasicles a worthy mystagogue, and it is my earnest desire that you become initiated into the Mysteries at once.”
“Shall I not see you again before you leave?” questioned Zopyrus much agitated at the thought of his friend’s imminent departure.
“I fear not, but time does not drag on the hands of youth, and,” he added with a smile, “you may find the girl of the Acropolis! Farewell.”
He was gone and there seemed a chaos in life where Aeschylus had once been. The truth-seeking poet had meant much to him since he had first met him in the home of Pasicles. He had known personally many poets and philosophers who in parasitic fashion drew their nourishment from the court of King Xerxes. They were neither original in their ideas, fearing to arouse the wrath of the king by any deviation from customs, nor were they sincere. Aeschylus would cater to no man, nor did he bow to public opinion. The truth clothed in forceful language, was what he presented to the Athenians, and they could take it or spurn it as they chose.
The sight of Eumetis waiting for him filled Zopyrus with a pleasant consciousness that the chaos might after all be filled with a living, loving personality, and he hastily joined her. Her slender face, usually serious, lighted up with joy as she beheld the youth approaching.