The Life of Polycrates and Other Stories for Antiquated Children Read Free

marjoram, and neck with essence of thyme. Extensive sums of money were expended on dainties, imported ostriches from Africa, fat eels from Rhegium and almonds from Cyprus. And if all this was not enough, he violated the chastity of a virgin, a priestess of Athena Ergane, and subsequently had the audacity to have her buried alive for violating her oaths.
    He spent his days in sleep and his nights in revelry, devoting himself wholly to his appetites. Sometimes he would stay indoors for a whole week, without once leaving his house, without once being touched by a ray of the sun. He did not bother with religion, philosophy, hunting or athletics but seemed instead to believe that manhood was made up of pleated cloaks of richly-dyed wool and extravagant footwear.
    He had a follower, Pison by name, an individual so small and thin that he looked as if a strong wind would blow him away; so diminutive indeed that Pythagoras, in a frivolous mood, had once remarked that, while all things in the universe are made up of atoms, atoms themselves are made up of Pisons;—and this Pison, this hypothetical particle of matter, who was in himself a catalogue of undesirable qualities, would, like some greedy shrew, eat daily twice his weight in food—comestibles smothered in rich sauces, sweet delicate things—whatever indeed could be found at his friend’s lavishly furnished table.
    The two sat together, in a luxuriously furnished room, on soft bags of cloth filled with feathers, wine-filled drinking cups and platters of delicacies placed between them.
    “ This afternoon,” Pison said, “while going for a stroll, I saw a man digging his field, and the very sight made me feel as if all my bones were broken.”
    “ Well,” Syloson replied, languidly fingering a Phibalean fig, “just your telling me this story makes me feel as if an ox were standing on my shoulder.”
    “ Which one?”
    “ Oh, I am uncertain. . . . Maybe the left.”
    “ Are you sweating?”
    Syloson bit into the fig, and chewing replied, “Possibly . . . if you see perspiration glistening my upper lip.”
    Pison’s face assumed a look of great concern, almost panic and, without losing time, he cupped his hands around his mouth like a horn and shouted, “Iops, Zetes, come out you dirty slaves! Your master’s lip is exhausted from labour, his person demands the breath of cooling fans of feathers!”
    Immediately there was heard from without the hurried sound of sandals coursing over handsomely tiled halls, and a moment later two anxious slaves presented themselves, each carrying an enormous fan of oil-of-civet-scented ostrich feathers. Iops fanned Syloson while Zetes, a lad with dreamy eyes, fanned Pison.
    “ But tell me, will your chef be serving fried caviar today?”
    “ Pison, you are surely the slimmest of pigs.”
    VII.
     
    Syloson was simply a fool; Pantagnotus was level-headed, cold, dangerous. For Polycrates, both were liabilities. In the middle of the night he had Pantagnotus abducted and taken to a country house where molten gold was poured down the man’s throat; the next day he had Syloson arrested and brought before him in fetters of the same metal.
    “ Brother,” he said, “when I see you here before me, bloated and drugged with cheese, I must confess that my disgust nearly outweighs my compassion. Look at you, with your face as hairless as that of a woman! This in itself is a gross and clear sign that you are on a campaign of vice and are involving yourself in activities inconsistent with a beard.”
    Syloson pouted. Polycrates continued:
    “ While pampering your vile body, living in a disgraceful manner, you have neglected all those duties which position and rank require of you. Your laziness has reached disgusting proportions. You have become frightened by the sun and live by night, like some lycanthrope, your blood inflamed by the moon. You live like a woman instead of a man, keep company strictly with men who are no men. I have even heard