Our Little Grecian Cousin
"Oh, if he has gone to the river and a Nereid has stolen him! Perhaps he has run to the mountain and a brigand has found him! I must bring him home. Good St. Georgios, who killed the terrible dragon, help me to find your name-child! Oh, dear, of course the saints hear us, but it would be ever so much nicer if they would answer!" she thought. Then she had little time to think more, for her whole mind was bent upon finding the naughty boy whom, with all his naughtiness, she dearly loved. She hurried up the hill, peering under every bush, behind every tree, beginning to think that perhaps something had happened to the child. She went on and on until the shadows of twilight began to gather and she grew more and more frightened. Beneath her on the mountain-side flowed a little stream and she peered into its silver depths wondering if perhaps Georgios could have fallen into it. Then in her eagerness she leaned too far, lost her balance and fell. Down, down she tumbled, rolling over and over on the soft grass until she reached the bottom of the hill. She lay still for a few moments then sat up and looked about her.
She was in a spot in which she had never been before, a pretty little glen, where the silvery stream ran over white pebbles with a soft, murmuring sound. Ferns grew tall and green, delicate wild flowers bloomed among them, the air was fragrant with the pines which grew overhead, and the whole spot was like a fairy dell. She tried to rise, but frowned with pain, for she had hurt her foot. So she sat thinking, "I will rest a minute and then go on and find Georgios."
As she sat thinking she noticed a queer place hollowed out by the water. Something lay there half covered with earth and she stooped to see what it was.
"Perhaps I shall find something like the shepherd did," she thought, but with sharp disappointment she found that the object which had caught her eye was but a queer little cup black with red figures around the rim, and with two handles, one at each side. It had the figure of a woman at one side and Zoe thought it rather pretty.
"It is not of any use," she said to herself, "It is but someone's old cup. But I shall take it home for the babycoula to play with. She will think it is nice." So she tucked it into her pocket and got up to go. Her ankle hurt but not so badly that she could not walk. She wet her kerchief and tied it around the swollen joint and climbed up the hill which she had rolled down so unexpectedly. At the top she stopped and called as loudly as she could, "Georgios, Georgios!"
An answering shout of "Zoe!" came from below and her heart gave a glad leap. She turned her steps downward and Marco met her ere she was half way down.
"Child, what are you doing here?" he asked.
"Is Georgios found? I came to seek him!" she cried.
"He was not lost, that bad boy!" said Marco. "When I reached home I found my mother disturbed in her mind because you had disappeared and the little girls said you had gone to the mountain to find Georgios. Him I found by the river fishing and he said that you had called but that he had not answered. He will answer the next time," and Marco's voice told Zoe that he had made it unpleasant for Georgios. "Then I came on to seek you. Poor child! you must have had a hard climb."
"Oh, I did not mind," said Zoe. "Only I fell and hurt my ankle. I am glad Georgios was not lost. He might have answered me, though," and her lip quivered.
"He was a bad boy," said Marco, "and did it just to tease you. Let me see your ankle. It is badly bruised, but not sprained, I think. Come, I will help you home," and he put his arm around her.
It took Zoe some time to get home for walking on the lame ankle tired her and often Marco stopped her to rest.
"What is it you have in your hand?" he asked her, as they sat down to rest beneath a giant fir.
"Oh, it is nothing," she said. "Just a queer little cup I found and thought Baby Domna might like to play with."
"Let me see it," said Marco, and he examined it carefully. "Where did you find it?" he asked at length and Zoe answered,
"When I fell by the river it lay in the dirt. Is it too dirty for the babycoula?"
"Zoe," Marco looked strangely excited. "I believe this old cup is of great value."
"Oh Marco!" the little girl could say no more.
"Yes," he said. "I may be mistaken, but I think it is very old and that it is like some cups I saw in Athens. They were sold for many drachmas. They were black like this with a little red on them, in lines and figures, and with two handles. A man in my regiment said they were of ancient pottery and that they were dug up out of the earth. He said the museum at Athens paid good prices for such things."
"Oh Marco!" Zoe's eyes were like stars. "If it would only turn out that this was worth something, even a little, how happy I should be! I want money so badly."
"What do you want it for?" Marco looked surprised.
"To give to Aunt Anna, of course," said Zoe, surprised in her turn. "Georgios said to-day that your father needed money and Aunt Anna needs many things." The child said it so simply that one would have supposed she never needed anything for herself, and Marco caught her hand with a sudden impulse.
"You are a strange little one," he said. "If this turns out to be worth any money, you shall have it all to spend, every cent."
"For whatever I want?" asked Zoe in surprise.
"Yes, indeed," said Marco.
"Then I shall buy a dress for Aunt Anna and for each of the little girls a new one that has not been made over from someone's else. And something I shall buy for each one of the family, most of all for the babycoula, since I meant to take the cup to her. And all the rest I shall give to Uncle Georgios, for I am such an expense to him."
"That you are not," said Marco. "My mother said but yesterday that she did not know how she would ever get along without you."
"Did she really?" Zoe's face flushed with pleasure. "My foot is much better, we must go on now, it grows so late."
So they hastened home and Zoe met a warm welcome, even Georgios hugging her and saying he was sorry he had sent her on such a wild goose chase. Her cup was displayed and wondered at, and later, when Papa Petro sent it to a priest in Athens and he sold it for many drachmas, Zoe was delighted and insisted upon giving the money to her uncle for all of them to share. Many comforts it brought for the family, besides paying the debts which had been worrying her uncle. And mischievous Georgios said airily,
"It was all due to me that the cup was found; for, if Zoe had not gone to find me, she would never have fallen down the hill on top of it."
"Nevertheless," said Marco sternly, "do not let me catch you playing any such tricks on your cousin again, or you will find something not so pleasant as antique cups. She's too good a little girl to tease."
And Zoe said in her soft little voice, "Oh, Marco."
CHAPTER IV
THE "AGIASMO"
Maria had a little son. Mathos was almost beside himself with delight, and the young mother was beautiful in her happiness. Her pretty face, always sweet, took on a deeper loveliness as she gazed on the little creature, so pink and white and dear, and Zoe thought she had never seen anything sweeter than her cousin and the baby together. Zoe had cared for her Aunt's babies so well that she was quite an authority and Maria trusted her with the little treasure when she would look anxiously at anyone else who took him up. He was indeed a joy. Serene and healthy, he lay all day, quite happy in the fact that he was able to get his tiny thumb in his mouth.
Maria had made her visit at Church on the fortieth day after the baby was born and Papa Petro had taken the little angel in his arms and walked thrice around the altar with him. Now the time had come when the good old priest was to christen the baby, and all the relatives and friends assembled to see the ceremony.
Papa Petro came riding down from his house on a tiny donkey. He was a dear old man with a wise, kindly face. He had been all his priestly life over the one parish, and his people were dear to him. They in turn loved him devotedly and he was always welcomed joyfully at any festivity.
Before the christening he blessed the house, performing the agiasmo or blessing, with great earnestness. First he took off his tall hat and let down his hair which was long and snowy white and usually worn in a knob at the back of his head. Then he set a basin of water and some incense before the eikon which was hung in a corner of the room. Every Grecian home has its eikon or picture of a saint or the Blessed Virgin. The incense he placed in a bowl and lighted it, the smoke rising and filling the room with a strong perfume. He read the prayers which keep off the evil spirits in an impressive manner, and then turned his attention to the christening.
Baby Mathos, very cunning in his new cap, was set down before the eikon which bore the pictured face of the saint to whom he was to be dedicated. That was the signal for all the women present to rush for his cap, the one who secured the coveted bit of lace and muslin being the godmother. Zoe was the lucky one, and she stood proudly up beside Maria and the godfather, who had been Mathos' best man. The nounos8 had given baby his fine new dress and had come prepared for all that a godfather must do.
The babycoula was then undressed and held up to the priest in Zoe's proud arms for Papa Petro to cut three hairs from the tiny head and throw them into the baptismal font. This was filled with water into which the godfather had poured a little olive oil.
Baby Mathos was then held to the west, to represent the kingdom of darkness, and Papa Petro asked three times, "Do you renounce the devil and all his works?" To this the godfather replied, "I do renounce them." At this the priest and godfather turned toward the east with the baby and the baby was plunged three times into the water. Baby squealed and kicked, and Zoe smiled, for if a baby does not cry at the water it is very bad luck, showing that the Evil One has not gone out of him. The babycoula did his little best to assure the company that he had no evil spirit left within, howling wrathfully after he was dried and anointed with holy oils, refusing to stop even when prayed over at length, only smiling when, the ceremony over, the nounos gave some drachmas to his parents and threw a whole handful of lepta9 among the children present.
"He is generous with his witness money," whispered Zoe to Maria and she smiled happily.
"Our little one will have the best of godparents," Maria said sweetly. "You to love him and Loukas to think of his welfare."
Papa Petro dipped an olive branch in holy water and sprinkled the rooms of the little cottage, then he sat down beside Maria, tied up his hair and took a cup of coffee. Everyone was served to glasses of water and sweets and everybody talked and laughed and said what a beautiful little Christian the babycoula was! As each one admired the baby Maria coloured and looked anxious and fingered the blue beads about her darling's neck.
"What have you for a charm against the evil eye?" asked Papa Petro, kindly. "Ah, I see, the blue beads. Well, that is good. Blue is the Blessed Virgin's colour and the Panageia10 will be your help. However, I have brought you a bit of crooked coral which I have always found good."
"It is most kind of you," said Maria prettily, as she hung the precious spray of coral at the babycoula's throat. Zoe smiled to herself. She had not intended to run any risk that her cousin's little baby should be marked with the evil eye, which can be put on a child just by admiring it. So, for the baby was so pretty she had felt sure it would be admired all day, she had put a bit of soot behind his ear, for that will ward off any evil eye. It is a sure charm. Therefore she felt quite satisfied even though every one present did say that the baby was perfectly beautiful. Then she held the little thing up before a mirror, for that would insure another baby in the family before the close of the year, and as the Grecians love children dearly they are glad to have many of them.
The baby had so many pieces of white stuff given to him that the little house looked as if it had been in a snow storm. No polite person would come to see a new baby and not give it something white, even if it were only an egg, for such a gift insures to the infant a lovely fair complexion.
Thus was Baby Mathos started on his journey as a Christian with all good omens, and his little godmother went home in the cool of the evening, happy in all of the pleasures of the day.
"It was lovely, Aunt Anna!" she said to her aunt. "Was it not? Maria's baby is a dear little fellow. He is my own godchild and I love him dearly, but of course not more than our own babycoula," and she buried her face in Baby Domna's neck. The baby crowed and cooed and patted Zoe's face with her tiny chubby hands and pulled her hair and acted in the entrancing way in which only a baby can act and Zoe laughed back at her and hugged her tight.
"You're my own babycoula," she said. "And I love you better than anything."
"Better than you do me? Oh shame!" said Marco teasing, while Aunt Anna, like every other good mother pleased with the attention her baby received, smiled upon her. Marco, however, looked very solemn and said reproachfully,
"I thought you would never like any baby better than me!"
"But you are not a baby," said Zoe, and Aunt Anna said,
"I am not so sure that he is not. But do not mind him, he is only teasing. You are a good child, Zoe," and little Zoe went happily to bed her heart warm at the thought that everybody seemed to love her, if she was an orphan and far away from home.
"It is only love that counts," she murmured to herself sleepily and fell asleep with a smile on her face, as the silver moon streamed through her window and the air came in soft and kind, fragrant with the breath of spring.
CHAPTER V
A VISIT TO MARCO
The winter passed quietly to Zoe and spring came with its glories of cloud and flower and sunshine. Men began to plough in the fields with quaint old-fashioned, one-handled ploughs, drawn by great strong oxen. Snows still crested Ossa and Pelion, and beautiful Olympus, in snow-crowned grandeur golden in the morning's glow, turned to rose in the evening sunset.
Marco had gone far up the mountain side to herd for a rich farmer who had many goats. He watched the herds all day and, when they were safely housed for the night, camped in a rough little hut on the hillside.
Zoe missed him from the cottage, for of all her cousins she most loved Marco. She was very happy therefore when her Aunt Anna told her one day that she might carry a basket of food to the mountain.
She started off happily, running along the village street into the open country, going more slowly up the hillside, where the early wildflowers were beginning to bloom.
She reached the little hut where Marco slept, nearly at sundown but he was not there, so she sat down to wait for him. The sun was streaming in a golden glory and the Vale of Tempe opened before her as fair as when the god Apollo slept beneath its elms and oaks, wild figs and plane trees. Zoe loved everything beautiful and she sat and looked eagerly at the lovely scene.
"It is almost as pretty as my own Argolis," she said aloud, and then gave a little sigh.
"Still homesick, little one?" Marco's voice said close behind her, and she sprang to her feet in astonishment. He seemed to have sprung from the ground, so quickly had he come upon her.
"Oh, Marco!" she said. "I did not hear you come. I am so glad to see you. It has been lonely at home without you."
"I have missed you, too. It is good of you to come to see me," he said.
"Aunt Anna sent me with fresh cheese and eggs and bread for your supper," she told him. "This is a beautiful place isn't it, Marco?"
"It is indeed," he answered. "Like a fine old man, Mt. Olympus always has snow upon his head. See how the clouds float about the summit; you know that was the home of the gods in the old days. 'Not by wind is it shaken nor ever wet with rain, but cloudless upper air is spread about it and a bright radiance floats over it.'"
"Papa Petro says we must not talk of the gods of olden times, for they were heathen," said Zoe primly. "But they were interesting. Where did you learn so much, Marco?"
"It is not much I know," he said with a laugh. "But when I was in Athens I took service with a man from America. He knew much. He read ancient Greek and when I told him I was a Grecian from near Mt. Olympus, he asked many questions about Thessaly and the way we live here. In return he told me much of our Ancient Grecian stories. He told me of Jason and his adventures after the Golden Fleece, of Perseus and Theseus and many others."
"Tell me some of them," demanded Zoe eagerly.
"Well, Perseus was the son of Danae, and a god was his father. He was taller and stronger and handsomer than any of the princes of the court and the king hated him. But Pallas Athene, the beautiful goddess of wisdom, loved him and helped him and took him under her protection. She gave him a task to perform, to rid the land of the horrible Gorgon Medusa, whose hair was a thousand snakes and whose face was so horrible that no man could look upon it and live. That Medusa might not kill Perseus, Athene gave him a magic shield and told him to look into the shield and seeing there the Gorgon's image, strike! He was to wrap the head in a goat's skin and bring it back. She gave him also Herme, the magic sword, and sandals with which he might cross the sea and even float through the air. They would guide him, too, for they knew the way and could not lose the path.
"So Perseus started out, and he flew through the air like a bird. And many were the dangers which he met, but all he overcame. Far was the journey, but he made it with a light heart. He went until he came to Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, and of his daughters, the gentle Hesperides, he asked his way. And they said to him, 'You must have the hat of darkness so that you can see but not be seen.'
"'And where is that hat?' he asked. And Atlas said to him,
"'No mortal can find it, but if you will promise me one thing, I will send one of my daughters, the Hesperides for it.'
"'I will promise,' said Perseus. 'If it is a thing I may do.'
"'When you have cut off the Gorgon's head, which turns all who see it into stone,' said Atlas, 'promise me that you will bring it here that I may see it and turn to stone. For I must hold up the world till the end of time, and my arms and legs are so weary that I should be glad never to feel again.' So Perseus promised, and one of the Hesperides brought him the hat of darkness, which she found in the region of Hades. Then Perseus went on and on until at last he came to the Gorgons' lair. And he put on the hat of darkness and came close to the evil beasts. There were three of them, but Medusa was the worst, for he saw in the mirror that her head was covered with vipers. He struck her quickly with his sword, cut off her head and wrapped it in the goat's skin. Then, flying upward with his magic sandals, he fled from the wrath of the other two Gorgons, who followed fast. They could not catch him, for the sandals bore him too swiftly. Remembering his promise he came to Atlas, and Atlas looked but once upon the face of Medusa and he was turned to stone. They say that there he sits to this day, holding up the earth. Then Perseus said farewell to the Hesperides, thanking them, and he turned away toward his home.
"He flew over mountains and valleys by sea and land for weary days and nights. As he came to the water of the blue Aegean sea, there he found a strange thing, for, chained to a rock, was a maiden, beautiful as day, who wept and called aloud to her mother.
"'What are you doing here?' demanded Perseus, and she answered,
"'Fair youth, I am chained here to be a victim to the Sea God, who comes at daybreak to devour me. Men call me Andromeda, and my mother boasted that I was fairer than the queen of the fishes, so that the queen is angry and has sent storm and earthquake upon my people. They sacrifice me thus to appease her wrath. Depart, for you can be of no help to me and I would not that you see the monster devour me.'
"'I shall help you, and that right promptly,' said Perseus, who loved her for her beauty and her sweetness. So he took his sword and cut her chains in two, and he took her in his arms and said,
"'You are the fairest maiden I have ever seen. I shall free you from this monster and then you shall be my wife.' And she smiled upon him, for she loved him for his strength and for his brave words.
"The sea monster was a fearful beast. His jaws were wide open and his tail lashed the waters as he rushed toward the maiden. She screamed and hid her face, but Perseus dropped down from the rock, right on the monster's back, and slew him with his gleaming sword. Then Perseus took Andromeda and flew to her home, and her parents received him with joy, giving him their daughter and begging him to stay with them. That he could not do, because of his promise to Pallas Athene. So he took his bride, and her father gave him a great ship and he returned to his mother like a hero, with his galley and much gold and treasure, the marriage portion of Andromeda. The wicked king was not glad to see him and would have had him killed, but Perseus held up to him the head of Medusa and it turned the king to stone. Then Perseus reigned in his stead, and one night in a dream Pallas Athene came to him and said,
"'You have kept your promise and brought back the Gorgon's head. Give back to me the sword, the sandals, the shield and the hat of darkness, that I may give each to whom it belongs.' And when he awoke they were all gone.
"Then he went home to his own land of Argos and there he lived in happiness with Andromeda, and they had fair sons and daughters, and men say that when they died they were borne by the gods to the heavens, and that there one can still see, on fair nights of summer, Andromeda and her deliverer Perseus."
"Oh!" exclaimed Zoe, with a long drawn breath of delight. "What a lovely story! But, Marco, why don't people do such brave things as that now days?"
"There are just as brave men now as there were in the old times," said Marco, his eyes kindling. "In my regiment they tell a story of a Grecian soldier in our War for Independence. Beside him marched a comrade, a man from his own island. They had played together as boys and had always been friends. But the other fellow had married the girl whom Spiro loved, and he had a sore heart about that. The regiment was up in the mountains and was attacked by the Turks and Spiro's friend captured. Spiro wept, but that was not all. He went to his captain and begged that he might be sent to the Turks in exchange for his friend. His captain said it was impossible, that the Turks would not accept him in exchange, but would kill both. Spiro said, 'My captain, if they did accept me it would be well. Let me go.'
"'You are a silly fellow,' said the captain. 'I cannot give you any permission. If you can get word to the Turks and they will accept you, then you may go.' This he said because he was sure the Turks would but laugh at such an idea of Spiro. But Spiro thanked him with tears of joy. Then he went to a man in the regiment who could write. 'Will you write a letter just as I say it?' he asked and his friend said that he would. Here is the letter,
"'To the most noble general of the Turks,' it began,
"'I am Spiro Rhizares of the – Grecian Infantry. I salute your Worship. You have captured a man of my regiment, one Yanne Petropoulas. He is a better man than I am but I am good enough to kill. I am taller than he so there is more of me to die. He has a wife and I have not, so there is more need for him to live. Wives take money; he should not be killed, for then there is no one to buy bread and garlic and embroidered kerchiefs for Evangoula. She is a good wife, but even good women must have loukoumi and coloured kerchiefs to keep them good. I ask you therefore to have the great kindness to kill me, Effendi, in place of Yanne, and I think he would not object. If therefore, your Worship will consent send me word, but do not speak of it to Yanne, since he might feel a disappointment that he might not die for his country at your most worshipful hands. Asking your Graciousness to send me word when I shall have to the pleasure to be killed, I sign myself, through the hands of a comrade, since I am too ignorant a fellow to write (you see I am fit only to kill),
