Cimon had risen now. In a momentary lull he trumpeted through his hands across the arena.
“Wake, Glaucon; quit your golden thoughts of Eleusis; Lycon is filching the crown.”
Themistocles, seated near Cimon’s side, was staring hard, elbows on knees and head on hands. Democrates, next him, was gazing at Glaucon, as if the athlete were made of gold; but the object of their fears and hopes gave back neither word nor sign.
The attendants were arraying the five remaining champions at the foot of a little rise in the sand, near the judges’ pulpit. To each was brought a bronze quoit, the discus. The pipers resumed their medley. The second contest was begun.
First, Amyntas of Thebes. He took his stand, measured the distance with his eye, then with a run flew up the rising, and at its summit his body bent double, while the heavy quoit flew away. A noble cast! and twice excelled. For a moment every Theban in the stadium was transported. Strangers sitting together fell on one another’s necks in sheer joy. But the rapture ended quickly. Lycon flung second. His vast strength could now tell to the uttermost. He was proud to display it. Thrice he hurled. Thrice his discus sped out as far as ever man had seen a quoit fly in Hellas. Not even Glaucon’s best wishers were disappointed when he failed to come within three cubits of the Spartan. Ctesias and Mœrocles realized their task was hopeless, and strove half heartedly. The friends of the huge Laconian were almost beside themselves with joy; while the herald called desperately that:—
“Lycon of Sparta wins with the discus. Glaucon of [pg 38]Athens is second. Ctesias of Epidaurus throws poorest and drops from the games.”
“Wake, Glaucon!” trumpeted Cimon, again his white face shining out amid the thousands of gazers now. “Wake, or Lycon wins again and all is lost!”
Glaucon was almost beyond earshot; to the frantic entreaty he answered by no sign. As he and the Spartan stood once more together, the giant leered on him civilly:—
“You grow wise, Athenian. It’s honour enough and to spare to be second, with Lycon first. Eu!—and here’s the last contest.”
“I say again, good friend,”—there was a slight closing of the Athenian’s lips, and deepening in his eyes,—“the pentathlon is not ended.”