When men scatter the seed, or when they gather the harvest.’ ”
“And that is all?” demanded fifty voices.
“That is all,” and Callias quitted the Bema. Whereupon if agony had held the Pnyx before, perplexity held it now. “The wooden wall?” “Holy Salamis?” “A great battle, but who is to conquer?” The feverish anxiety of the people at length found its vent in a general shout.
“The seers! Call the seers! Explain the oracle!”
The demand had clearly been anticipated by the president of the Council.
“Xenagoras the Cerycid is present. He is the oldest seer. Let us hearken to his opinion.”
The head of the greatest priestly family in Athens arose. He was a venerable man, wearing his ribbon-decked robes of office. The president passed him the myrtle crown, as token that he had the Bema. In a tense hush his voice sounded clearly.
“I was informed of the oracles before the assembly met. The meaning is plain. By the ‘wooden wall’ is meant our [pg 69]ships. But if we risk a battle, we are told slaughter and defeat will follow. The god commands, therefore, that without resistance we quit Attica, gathering our wives, our children, and our goods, and sail away to some far country.”
Xenagoras paused with the smile of him who performs a sad but necessary duty, removed the wreath, and descended the Bema.
“Quit Attica without a blow! Our fathers’ fathers’ sepulchres, the shrines of our gods, the pleasant farmsteads, the land where our Attic race have dwelt from dimmest time!”