CHAPTER XIX CHAMPION OF THE SPORTS

From the picturesque and commodious grounds surrounding the baths and gymnasium a splendid avenue of the sweet-scented manna oak led up a gentle ascent to a natural amphitheatre set apart for the only religious observances known in Sahama - the thanksgiving festival, and the funeral pyre of the dead. These ceremonies were both celebrated at daybreak in order that the offerings to the gods, and the liberated souls of the departed, might be in readiness for the Car of Phœbus as it passed by on its daily course.

The festival, being an event of national importance, was always a time of general reunion, taxing Velia's powers of entertainment; but the promised appearance of the favourite Princess at the sports had proved an enormous attraction this year, and thousands of visitors had to be content to return to the primitive accommodation of tents during their brief visit to the capital.

It was an imposing spectacle in that crowded circle when Chryses, the high priest, followed by all his clerics, magicians, wise men, astrologers, and counsellors, entered the enclosure just as the first shafts of light touched the tops of the distant hills. Twenty thousand burning lamps were elevated to dispel the shadow of night, and as the sacred fire was kindled upon the forty altars surrounding the pyre upon which the offerings of fruit and grain were heaped, the vast congregation joined in the national hymn of worship and thanksgiving

“Hail, charioteer of all the gods!

Who through the heavens dost drive their regal car; Putting to flight the alien powers of night!

Unconquered king in regions near and far We worship thee!

“Thou crownest seasons with thy gifts!

Earth's lap is full with all thy blessings strewn;

Fruits, flowers, and grain leap into joyous birth,

And wine like rivers flows where thy bright car is driven;

We worship thee!

Vedrona was deeply moved at the impressive scene as she sat upon the royal dais behind the venerable archpriest, surrounded by her court gorgeously apparelled in semi-barbaric splendour, the two most noticeable features of which were Glarces on her right, and Maphir, near behind, in close attendance on the lions, who lay in calm composure at her feet.

The heroic morn, with cool and undisturbed majestic grace, removed the dark disguise in which he passed the outposts of the night, and light usurped the throne with a welcome pulseless glory, and by the time that Chryses applied his torch to the thanksgiving pyre, the full effect of the now brilliant gathering was visible. Then was the wild and costly splendour of Sahama's wealth fully displayed in the rich embroideries of many nations in which the ladies clothed, and afterwards garnished themselves; while men had striven to excel each other in the exorbitant treasures of colour and product they paraded. Slaves of every available nationality, dressed in costly and extravagant native costumes; magicians and astrologers in weird symbolic robes; the multicoloured garments of the priests, each according to the god at whose altar he officiated; and lastly the flower-wreathed, but otherwise spotless attire of the vestal virgins, who danced and sang around the pyre, all contributed to form a picture never to be forgotten.

Soon as the sun was visible above the tops of the hills, Chryses gave the sign, at which a mighty shout of “Hail! all hail!” broke forth in greeting, and the opening service of the festival was over.

The vast concourse having paid its annual acknowledgment to the gods they ignorantly worshipped, turned from the Grove. Many having their seats secured in the gymnasium, wended their ways homewards to breakfast, but more, not being so fortunate as their neighbours in their arrangements for the sports, hurried, with what haste the crowd allowed, towards the goal of all thoughts, quite content to accept whatever fare was there provided rather than risk the possibility of exclusion from the races.

The unappropriated space was speedily packed with a restless, struggling, excited throng, each determined to secure some point of better advantage. The habitual courtesy and consideration for others which formed such a striking characteristic of the people, was more noticeable by its absence to-day. Every other feeling went down before the wild enthusiasm to see Glarces carry away the champion's wreath, and next to catch a sight of the nation's idol - the future Queen.

A steady stream of expectant humanity poured into the reserved auditorium, if possible even more brilliantly attired than in the earlier assembly, until every available inch of room was occupied, and the concourse below the bar almost rivalled the crush above.

Only the arena and the royal seats were empty now, and all attention was centred on the one doorway watching for the curtains to be withdrawn.

“Hush!”

The exclamation rushed through the electric atmosphere, and as Petronius, followed by two heralds, stepped on to the dais that mighty congregation rose by a spontaneous impulse, to receive Vedrona with a worthy demonstration of its welcome and good-will.

Glarces, not yet stripped for the contest, led her forward, and at the sight of her a shout rent the air as though the forces of nature had exploded in a reverberating roar, while the royal pair made their joint acknowledgments.

“Let the sports begin.”

Such was the device by which the smiling Princess terminated the acclamation.

Glarces at once retired, and at a sign from Petronius the doors of the arena were thrown wide, the heralds appeared, and with a fanfare upon their golden shepherd's horns, announced the opening of the contests.

The judges, directors, and officials at once paraded, made their obeisance to the Princess, and retired to their respective stations.

Now the competitors, stripped, and ready for their various contests, marched in review around the course, to the excited plaudits of the populace. It was a veritable pandemonium of encouragement, in which the name of every contestant found a place, but above the roar rose one name that caused Vedrona's cheeks to flush with pride, even though her heart somewhat misgave her, as she thought of his hurried training, and looked upon the sinewy muscular forms of those with whom he had to contend.

The preliminary heats of the long race stood first upon the list. The distance, sixteen times round the course - about two miles - for which thirty and two names had been entered, divided into four heats, only the first in each to contest the final.

When all was in readiness the heralds proclaimed:

“Let the runners stand with their feet to the line.” Eight advanced, amid a tumult of uncertain excitement as to how the ballot had resulted. Glarces had no place in the first contest, but the contestants appeared to be splendidly matched, and it was at once certain from a comparison of the men that the opening struggle would be a fierce one.

The signal fell to a perfect start. The men bounded away with an unbroken front, and the excitement of those whose favourites were engaged grew silent under the influence of hope, fear, or doubt. The first struggle was to break the line, but no man appeared able to accomplish it. The outside man, by an almost superhuman effort, just managed to preserve it, and the inner one could do no more. Thus the third lap was completed. The pace was fast, almost too fast to hope for its maintenance, but only exhaustion would apparently break the column; and he who fell behind would certainly have no chance to recover his ground. Then shouts of encouragement were poured forth from throats already hoarse with fervour, as each man in the auditorium thought of the possibility of his favourite being cast in the first round. But the inspiration of applause was useless, every nerve was already strained to its utmost tension, when the tenth lap was called and scarcely a yard lay between the first and last athlete. Even this breach was closed again, and then another opened in different order. It was a fight for even an inch of advantage, and the judges became aware that their decision would have to be given upon the narrowest of margins, for the contest grew more fierce as each succeeding lap was told, and yet it was impossible to separate, in opinion, the first man from the last. So ended the fifteenth round. All now depended on whether any man had sufficient reserve to outstrip his fellows in the last bound, for nothing more could possibly be done until the final leap was made for victory. It was a moment of exciting tension in which silence was tyrant. The vast concourse of onlookers were upon their feet, but almost feared to breathe. The line closed on the last turn even with the precision of the start, until it seemed certain that a dead heat for every man would have to be declared. They are home! One man had thrown himself but a hand's breadth in advance and touched the goal.

The second heat was a splendid display of fleetness, but not so warmly contested, being almost a foregone conclusion from the start.

It was when the men drawn for the third heat came to the line, and Glarces was found to be in their number, that excitement reached its climax. There was also a murmur of disappointment. Next to the Prince stood Gelon, a young athlete of such well-known powers as to be the popular favourite before the name of Glarces was added to the list. It was naturally hoped that the two would be drawn in different heats, and thus both to the final, but fortune decreed it otherwise, and therefore the greater excitement attached to this decisive spin, since it was a foregone conclusion that its winner would secure the oak wreath. They were drawn side by side in the centre of the line, with the advantage to Gelon, with whom Glarces took a trivial opportunity to show his feelings of amity and goodwill while awaiting the signal. It was nothing more than a friendly, perhaps unconscious trifle he whispered into the ear of his rival, but it was characteristic of the man, and not lost upon the people.

“We shall have a repetition of the first heat,” was the generally expressed opinion, as the men stood with bodies bent, muscles set, and waiting for the fall of the signal. The coveted wreath hung encouragingly before the eye of each of the eight men, and the determination of each almost seemed to touch it. Still, only one hand could reach the goal, and every heart was strong with hope.

The signal fell! The men were away, the Prince a trifle forward. It was evident that by an unexpressed consent it was determined to let it be so. Glarces was to set and sustain the pace - the rest would wait upon him. Gelon ran easily, beside and behind him, and the other six in a line upon the heels of the second. The pace was fast - scarcely equal to the second, though favourably comparable with the first heat - but as the fifth lap was called, Glarces, smiling and cool as at the outset, lengthened his stride a trifle, and left a little more space between himself and Gelon. The distance between the second and the rest now increased - the pace was telling, and from this point resolved itself into a contest between the favourites. Seven - eight - nine laps, and the pace was still creeping upward, both men being easy, though they were running now quite equal to the speed of the second heat. Ten – eleven - twelve, and still Glarces forced the pace, but Gelon showed no sign of giving way. Two men had already fallen, and the others were more than half a lap behind. The excitement of the people was at fever heat, but plaudits had exhausted themselves, and an intense suspense had given place to shouts of encouragement. Thirteen – fourteen - fifteen laps were now covered, and Glarces, though almost flying, was unable to increase his lead! The line was crossed in the final lap! He made another effort, but Gelon was equal to him. Yea, with a deafening yell of surprise and admiration breaking from the crowd, he had lessened the breach! Both men were now straining every nerve! Now the advantage swung one way, now the other! Could Glarces hold out? Half-way home and their feet scarcely touch the ground, but Gelon will not be shaken off, though frightfully distressed. Glarces spurts, but his rival answers. Another ten paces and Glarces wins! No! Gelon spurts in a final bound, and in a dead heat both cross the line!

An instant later, Gelon fell, and had to be carried out. It was a glorious race, and worthily recognised by the madly excited populace.

The remaining heat was watched with the same keen enthusiasm, and gave promise of a final never before equalled in Sahama.

After such prolonged tension, and with the prospect of a decisive effort yet before them, but comparatively little interest was manifested in the intervening items though as no man dare leave his place, and rest and attention to the competitors were absolutely necessary, the contests of putting the weight, wrestling, throwing the discus, and other events were more or less welcome breaks in the interval which had to be endured.

At last the herald sounded the wished-for summons, and a perfect pandemonium of applause hailed the appearance of the athletes, especially when it was discovered that the doubtful Gelon had recovered, and looked as fit as his fellows.

Glarces and Gelon were the two names on every tongue, although it was more than doubtful as, to what positions the other three men would eventually claim. Popular favourites do not always answer to expectations, and in the contest now before them staying powers counted perhaps even more than fleetness. It was well known that at least two of the five men at the line relied upon this endurance for their hope of victory.

Gelon was first away as the signal fell, but Glarces pressed him hard, and as the first lap was reached they ran together a good pace in front of the third man, who left his followers still more and more behind; but he vainly tried to reach the two before him. The popular forecast was verified; it was a struggle fierce and furious for victory between Glarces and Gelon! As lap succeeded lap, the advantage swung in a fairly even balance. Now Glarces was certainly first across the line, but on the next round Gelon's foot gave the signal for the lap to be declared. The unprecedented speed of the preliminary heats was forgotten in the ever­increasing flight of these two men, who, by the time of the tenth round only had the company of a badly exhausted third upon the track. Eleven – twelve - thirteen, and though dauntless courage was still written upon the faces of each, it was becoming certain that the crispness and spring of their action was failing. Fourteen, and the time was perceptibly slower. Would they be able to hold out, or would the wreath be unclaimed, for the third man had already given up? Fifteen - they were still running, and the announcement of the last round appeared to impart a new inspiration to Glarces, and he bounded away again; but Gelon also caught it, and though the Prince was leading by more than a pace, the indomitable youth did not despair, but answered the wild cheers of the people with a dash which closed half the distance. Half a lap, and the race would be won! The vast assemblage had risen yelling to its feet. Even Vedrona, unable to restrain herself, waved her scarf and shouted with the rest. There was only a quarter of a lap remaining, and Gelon could not recover himself. “Glarces wins! Glarces wins!” was the wild plaudit on every tongue. Gelon tried again, but failed! Three paces, and all would be over, when Glarces deliberately threw himself aside and gave the race to the man whose courage and prowess was well worthy of the generous compliment it received.