Shouts of deafening applause rose again and again from the crowd as Eubulus stepped forward and received from the hands of the Archon first the palm branch and then the Crown of Pine.
The unprecedented departure from the order of proceedings described above brought well-merited disaster to Cleon and his associates. If they had been wise they would by this time have left Corinth far behind them. But this was practically impossible. They had not the means to do so, for they were almost penniless. The bribe to Aristagoras had swept away all that was left to them, and if they were to get away it would have to be either by begging or by workingalternatives which were equally unwelcome. The visit to the racecourse was, therefore, something like a necessity. They hoped to pick up a few trifles here and there. They had, as may be supposed, at command as many ways of accomplishing this as had any rogues in the world. Cards, it is true, had not been in- [289] vented, but there were dice, (Footnote: The tessera with six sides and the talus with four.) the die proper and the knuckle-bone, and dice could be loaded. But it is needless, even if it were possible, to recapitulate the devices of an old-world swindler. The evil ingenuity of mankind has doubtless added to their number, but there were plenty available to a knave even in the year 50 A.D. But their chief hope was in getting in advance some of the money due to them for bets which they had won, by offering to take a composition. None was actually payable till after the crowning of the successful candidate on the conclusion of the Games. This made it safe for them to appear, and it also gave them a chance of getting a few pounds into their possession. They would say to a debtor, “If you can pay up now we will take two-thirds or three-fourths of the money,” giving such reasons as might be suited to the silliness or credulity of their victims. It was not a very promising device, but it was better than nothing, and every shilling they contrived to lay hold of in this and in any other way would be so much gain. They had come with the rest of the crowd to hear the decision of the judges, and they saw, of course, that the immediate coronation of Eubulus was a fatal blow. They turned to flyflight with or without means was [290] now a necessitybut it was too late. The Corsican, with Rufus, still his constant associate, had dogged their steps, and stood between them and escape.
“Not so fast, my fine fellows,” he cried; “there are a good many friends here who would like to have a word with you before you go.”
Retribution was at hand for the scoundrels, and was likely to be as complete as the sternest lover of justice could desire. The “welsher”it may be explained that the word means a low-class better who cannot pay his betswas wont to meet with as little mercy on the racecourse of antiquity as he meets with at Epsom or Doncaster. And the three were more than “welshers.” Their misdeeds were not fully known to the crowd that rapidly gathered round the Corsican and his captives, but some were sure and many more suspected that they had practised against the life of Eubulus, the most popular candidate that Corinth had known within the memory of man. And here they were. What was to be done with them?
The Corsican apprehended the situation in a moment. Leave these fellows to the vengeance of the mob, and by the time one had counted a hundred, there would not be one of them left alive. This was [291] not a result which he desired. He had not a grain of compassion for the villains; whatever they might suffer would be less than their deserts. But still it would be better that they should not be killed. Death, even the death of such worthless creatures as these, would cast a gloomy shadow over what was a day of triumph and joy. He saw his way in a moment. “Let them run the gauntlet!” he cried, and the suggestion was taken up with a tumult of applause, and so the stadium was put to a use for which it certainly was not intended. The three rogues, stationed some ten yards apartby a rude justice the eldest, as presumably the least active, had the least distance to runwere started, and had to make their way as best they could along the line of spectators. No one had any deadly weapon wherewith to strike the runnersit was forbidden to carry weapons within the precincts of the Gamesbut there were belts and other implements handy, and in default of anything better a sandal or a shoe. It is probable that even from this ordeal not one of the three would have escaped alive but for an interruption to the sport which the Corsican had foreseen. The keepers of the course were scandalized at the base use to which it was being put, and, as soon as they had recovered from their astonishment, [292] interfered and put an end to it. It was about time. Cleon and Ariston lay bleeding and senseless on the ground; Democles was staggering on alone. The keepers carried them off the ground and put them in safety in one of the buildings that adjoined the course. It is needless to pursue their story any further. A few days later, when they had recovered sufficiently to be able to walk, they were conducted to the frontier of the State, and summarily ordered to depart. They were given to understand that if they were seen again in Corinth they would be less leniently treated.
BACK TO ROME
[293] WHILE the enemies of Eubulus were thus receiving their due, his friends found themselves in no small perplexity. After giving his evidence, Aquila had hurried home with all possible speed. The matter had to be talked over with Priscilla, and that without any loss of time. There was very little difference of opinion between the two as to what was to be done, though Priscilla, with her more impetuous nature, was the first to put into definite shape what was really their common judgment. “The boy,” she crieda woman always thus reduces the age of any one whom she cares about“the boy cannot possibly be allowed to go alone.”
You are right,” answered Aquila, “he cannot go alone. And I see no alternative but that we must go with him. But it is a terrible risk. The decree of banishment is barely two months old, and we are going to break it openly.”
[294] “Not we,” said Priscilla. “I have not been banished. Why should not I go and leave you safely here?”
“That is impossible,” replied Aquila. “Not that you would not manage everything as well as I could; but things being as they are, it is impossible.”
Priscilla reluctantly acknowledged that it was. “We will disguise ourselves,” she said; “that ought not to be very difficult.”
Aquila smiled. “Not for me, perhaps. But how about you? You are not one to be hid in a crowd. Still, whatever the risk, you are right; we must go.”
Nothing could be done that evening, but early the next morning Aquila was at the harbour of Cenchreae. He had business which could not be postponed to transact there, and he might find, he thought, some ship bound for Italy. Two days of the Games yet remained, and it might be a good thing to be early in the field. The Games ended, Corinth would be emptying as rapidly as it had filled.
While he was looking about him he observed a small sailing vessel rowed with sweeps up to the quay side. It was made fast to the quay, from which a gangway was pushed out, and some five or six passengers landed. Two sailors [295] carried after them a few articles of luggage. One of the passengers was obviously a person of some importance, at least in the eyes of his fellow-travellers. One of these supported his steps as he passed along the gangway, and another looked out for a seat on the quay where he might be sheltered from the sun. There was no sort of distinction about his general appearance, which was indeed insignificant. He was short of stature, and stooped, but his countenance was of an aspect so remarkable that no one who saw it could ever forget. The eyes, though to an expert’s look they betrayed the signs of ophthalmia, were singularly brilliant and penetrating, and the whole expression was full of energy. While Aquila was considering who this stranger might be, he was accosted by one of the newcomers, and recognized his friend Trophimus.
“I think you will be able to help us,” the man said; “our fellow-traveller whom you see is Paul of Tarsus. We had heard at Philippi, which we left about seven days ago, that you were living in Corinth, and we thought you might be able to give the master a home.”