Ion. Now is my heart filled all anew with hope and courage, and I go forth trustingly. Father, thy blessing [_kneels before_ Adrastus].
Adrastus. Go, thou self-anointed victim on the altar of thy love. Bless thy pure, faithful heart!
Ion [_rising_]. Farewell! Embrace me, Mother.
Iantha [_pressing_ Ion _to her breast_]. Farewell, my Ion. And if the great Father wills it that I look not again on thee in life, into His care do I commit thee. Farewell!
Ion. Mother, farewell! And if I fall, mourn not, but glory that I died as best became the son of Cleon [_draws his sword_]. And now leap forth, my sword!--henceforth is there no rest nor honor till we have conquered.
Father, I come, I come! [Ion _rushes out;_ Iantha _rushes to the window, tears off her veil and waves it to_ Ion.]
CURTAIN.
SCENE SECOND.
[_Tent of_ Mohammed; _maps and arms lying about._ Mohammed _and_ Hafiz.]
Moh'd. And spake they no word of ransom or of hostage?
Hafiz. None, sire. The lady lay as one struck dead; and the priest, foul Christian dog, bade me go hence, and tarry not.
Moh'd. And held you no speech with those about the princess. Sure, there were some to listen to thy master's word.
Hafiz. Great master, I sought in vain to set before them the royal will.
At first it were as though a spell had fallen on them. Nay, some did turn aside and weep, rending their hair, as though all hope were lost.
Then, when I strove to win them to some counsel, they woke to such an uproar, cursing thy perfidy, and vowing most dire and speedy vengeance on thee, clashing their weapons and crying, "Down with the pagan dogs!"
Then, drawing forth their lances with fierce oaths, they drove me from the gates in such warlike manner, I could but strive with haste to make good mine escape, and without rest have I journeyed hither to bring thee tidings.
Moh'd. By the prophet! and is it thus they serve the royal messenger.
But they shall rue it dearly. Cleon shall die. To-morrow's sun shall never shine for him. The proud Greeks shall learn to dread Mohammed's ire, and bend their haughty heads before him in the dust. I offer ransom, and they will not harken. I send them honorable terms, and they thrust my messenger rudely from their gates. They have dared to brave me,--they shall feel my power!
Hafiz. Mighty Mohammed, if thy poor slave might offer counsel, were it not wise to tarry till the Greeks on cooler thought shall seek thee with some treaty which may avail thee better than such hasty vengeance. How much more worthy were a heavy ransom than the life of a single miserable prince.
Moh'd. Peace, slave! I have said Cleon shall die, and, by Allah! so I have not word from these rebel dogs ere three days shall wear away, his body swung from the battlements shall bear them tidings of Mohammed's power. [_Enter_ Selim.] What hath befallen, Selim, that thou comest in such haste?
Selim. Most mighty king, there waits without a youth, demanding speech of thee.
Moh'd. A youth! Who may he be, and what seeks he with us?
Selim. Most gracious sire, I know not. Our guard surprised him wandering without the camp,--alone, unarmed, save with a single sword; young, and I think a Greek. Abdallah seized him as a spy, and led him hither to await thy royal will. He doth refuse all question, demanding to be led before thee, where he will unfold his errand.
Moh'd. A Greek! Bring him before us, an he prove a spy he shall hang before the day waxeth older by an hour. Hence,--bring him hither!
[_Exit_ Selim.] By Allah! my proud foes have deigned to send us messengers, and seek to win the favor so rudely scorned. They know not Mohammed, and, so they humble not themselves, will sue in vain.
[_Enter_ Selim, _dragging_ Ion.
Selim. Your Mightiness doth behold the youth. [_To_ Ion, _who stands proudly._] Kneel, slave!
Ion. I kneel not unto tyrants.
Moh'd. How, bold stripling! Weigh with more care thy speech, and forget not before whom thou dost stand. [_To_ Selim.] Go, slave, and stand without; see that none enter here unbidden. [_Exit_ Selim.] Speak, boy!
Who art thou, and why dost thou seek thus fearlessly the presence of thy foe?--and beware thou speakest truly if it is as a friend to treat in honorable fashion, or as a spy, thou now standest before us.
Ion. I am a Greek, son to the noble Cleon, now thy captive; I seek his rescue.
Moh'd. Son to Cleon! Now, by the Prophet, 'tis wondrous strange! And thou hast ventured alone into the camp amid thy deadly foes? Speak, boy,--thine errand!
Ion. To offer hostage; to treat with Mohammed for a father's life; to move to pity or to justice the heart that hath doomed a noble soldier unto an unjust death.
Moh'd. And where, my bold prince, are thy followers, thy slaves, thy royal train?
Ion. On yonder plain, cold in their graves.
Moh'd. Hast thou brought ransom? Where is thy gold?
Ion. In the coffers of the Turkish Mohammed, plundered from his slaughtered foes.
Moh'd. Thou spakest of hostage,--I see it not.
Ion. 'Tis here,--the son of Cleon.
Moh'd. Thou! and thinkest thou thy young, worthless life were a fit hostage for the leader of a rebel band, the enemy of all true followers, whose capture hath cost blood and slaves and gold? By Allah! boy, thou must name a higher price to win the life thou doth seek.
Ion. I have nought else to offer. Thy hand hath rent from me friends, followers, gold, a sire. But if this young life hath any worth to thee, if these arms may toil for thee, this form bear burdens to thy royalty, take them,--take all, O king, but render unto me that life without which Greece is lost.
Moh'd. Peace! Thy speech is vain; thy life is nought to me.
Ion. I will serve thee as a slave; in all things do thy bidding,--faithful, unwearied, unrepining. Grant but my boon, and monarch shall never have a truer vassal than I will be to thee. Great Mohammed, let me not plead in vain.
Moh'd. Peace, I say; anger me not.
Ion. O king, hast thou no heart? Think of the ruined home, the mourning people, the land made desolate by thee; of her who now counts the weary hours for tidings of those dear to her,--tidings fraught with life or death as thou shalt decree; of the son by thee doomed to see his honored sire, hero of a hundred battles dragged like a slave unto a shameful death. As thou wilt have mercy shown to thee, that mercy show thou unto me. Oh, say to me, "Thy father lives!"
Moh'd. Away! I will not listen.
Ion. Nay, I _will_ kneel to thee. I who never knelt to man before, now implore thee with earnest supplication. 'Tis for a father's life.
Moh'd. Kneel not to me,--it is in vain. Thy father is my captive, my deadliest foe, whom I hate, and curse,--ay, and will slay. Boy, dost thou know to whom thou dost bow?
Ion [_rising proudly_]. To the pagan Mohammed,--he who with murderous hand hath bathed in blood the smiling plains of Greece; profaned her altars, enslaved her people, and filled the land with widows' tears and orphans' cries; he who by perfidy makes captives of his foes, refusing hostage and scorning honorable treaty; turns from all supplicants, closes his heart to mercy, and tramples under foot all pity and all justice,--the murderer, and the tyrant. Yes, king, I know to whom I plead.
Moh'd. [_in great anger_]. Ho, without there, guards!--Selim! [_Enter_ Selim _and soldiers._] Away with the prisoner! Bind him fast; see he escape not. Mohammed stands not to be braved by a beardless boy! Hence!
[_Guards approach with chains._]
Ion. Lay not hands upon me,--I am no slave! One more appeal: May a son look once more upon his father ere death parts them forever? May I but for an hour speak with Cleon?
Moh'd. Once more thou mayst look upon the rebel Greek. When he hangs from yonder battlement thou mayst gaze unbidden as thou will. Away! With to-morrow's sun, he dies.
Ion. So soon, O king!--nay, the son of Cleon kneels not to thee again [_turns to go_].