The morning of the third day found the army within sight of Mt. Parnassus. With rapt gaze Zopyrus beheld the softest sculpture of cliff and peak against a cerulean sky. Upon yonder lofty summit dwelt the Muses, those daughters of Zeus who preside over the æsthetic and intellectual aspirations of man. It seemed to Zopyrus that surely now but one Muse, Melpomene, occupied that pinnacle, and with mournful gaze beheld the invasion of this fairest of lands.
In accordance with the order of Xerxes all faces were turned in the direction of Delphi, in spite of a report that the oracle of Delphi had prophesied that Apollo would protect his sanctuary. Through a gorge at the foot of Mt. Parnassus might Melpomene have seen the multitudes of Asiatic troops pursue their nefarious journey. Suddenly peal after peal of thunder reverberated from the apparent calm of a mid-summer sky. Then great crags from the mountain were loosened and rolled down upon the army which fled in wild terror, abandoning its attempt to plunder Delphi. So did Apollo protect his shrine! But fortune did not so favor the citizens of Thespiæ and Platæa in Bœotia both of which were ravaged and those citizens who would not join the Persian forces were put to death.
At length on the fifth day the army camped at night-fall outside of Athens. It was a beautiful intense dark blue Athenian night in which heaven’s vault seemed to blaze with innumerable jewels. Zopyrus sat at the door of his tent deep in his own thoughts. An army during its marches and battles must think, talk and act as one being, and that one subservient to its leader, but who shall say in the stillness of evening each living entity which comprises that vast unit shall not have his individual dreams, and those thoughts which render him distinct from every other living being? And Zopyrus as he sat in the darkness, thought of Athens and of his mother. What would she think if she knew he was approaching Attica’s stronghold as a plunderer and devastator! Conflicting emotions surged within his soul. Once again it seemed to him that he was in the far off Hermus valley, strolling by the little stream of Pactolus, and by his side was the austere Artaphernes whose stern visage was turned toward him with an expression of paternal rebuke. The vision faded leaving him troubled and sore at heart.
That night Zopyrus had a dream. It seemed to him that his father appeared and beckoned silently to him to follow and that he wonderingly rose and obeyed. When they were out in the open, Artaphernes, who Zopyrus noticed was fully armed, pointed with his sabre toward Athens and repeated the memorable words of Darius, “Remember the Athenians.” Suddenly the shade of his mother appeared to the right. She stood holding on her arm a scroll of papyrus, and while Zopyrus looked she pointed with it in the same direction as that indicated by the sabre of his father and behold, as Zopyrus turned he saw a beautiful city with numerous buildings of white marble, and in the center a temple-crowned hill. In the streets were many busy people hurrying to and fro. Some talked from the temple steps while the populace listened, some vied with each other in various physical sports and others sold the produce of the soil in the bustling marketplace, but whatever their occupation, they represented a happy and contented democracy.
Marveling at this vision, Zopyrus turned to his father and noticed that the sabre now pointed to the east. Following the direction of its keen blade with reluctant eyes, Zopyrus beheld another city more gorgeous, but totally lacking in the refined beauty which characterized the city which lay to the west. The buildings of this eastern city possessed a massiveness and grandeur that inspired in the beholder a profound awe. Upon the throne in the magnificent palace, and surrounded by a court retinue, sat a tyrant to whom all bowed in servility. On the streets the people moved and worked en masse. There was no individuality, no differentiation, for these people were victims of an oriental despotism.
When Zopyrus opened his eyes the palace and the toiling people had vanished and so likewise had the vision of the peaceful republic. The Persian father and Greek mother no longer stood before him. The youth knew that this dream represented the Persian and the Greek at war within himself for the supremacy.
When morning broke, the camp was astir at an early hour for this was to be the day of days! Zopyrus was awakened by the stamping and neighing of horses, the rattle of arms and the jocular voices of his comrades.
“Wake up, Zopyrus!” cried a friendly voice. Zopyrus saw his friend Masistius leaning over him.
“Xerxes bids us avenge the burning of Sardis today,” continued Masistius. “His words to all his officers this morning are, ‘Remember the Athenians!’”
“His advice to me is quite unnecessary,” replied Zopyrus, “for I can not forget them.”