Arcadia. Sir Philip Sidney
was of the same mind, having easily marked that the young captain was the first mover, so to speak, of all the other hands. And so, their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented to try each other’s fortune and drew themselves to the uttermost of one side, where they began a combat, as inferior to the battle in noise and number as surpassing it in bravery of fighting and, as it were, delightful terribleness. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardiness darken their wit, nor their wit cool their hardiness. Both were valiant, as men despising death. Both were confident, because unused to losing, yet doubtful by their present feeling and respectful of what they had already seen. Their feet were steady, their hands diligent, their eyes watchful, and the hearts resolute. The parts either not armed (or weakly armed) were well known, and according to the knowledge should have been sharply visited, but that the answer was as quick as the objection. Yet when they alighted and fought on foot, their smart bred rage, and their rage bred smart again.
Both sides began to wax faint, and each was rather desirous to die accompanied than hopeful to live victorious, when the captain of the Helots struck Palladius on the side of the head with a blow whose violence grew of fury, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of fury. Palladius reeled, astonished, and withal his helmet fell off, he remaining bare headed. The other Arcadians were ready to shield him from any harm that might rise of nakedness.
But he little needed it, for instead of pursuing that advantage, his chief enemy kneeled down and offered to deliver the pommel of the sword in token of yielding, withal speaking aloud to him that he thought it would be more liberty to be Palladius’ prisoner than any other’s general.
Standing upon himself, Palladius misdoubted some craft, and the Helots beside their captain wavered between looking for some stratagem or fearing treason. “What?” said the captain, “has Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?”
By that watchword Palladius knew that it was his friend Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the sea. Therefore both of them became most full of wonder so to be met, if not fuller of joy than wonder. They caused the retreat to be sounded, Daiphantus by authority and Palladius by persuasion. It helped that neither side had gained much advantage. Of the Helots’ side their captain’s behavior had made as many amazed as saw or heard of it. Of the Arcadian side, good old Kalander had striven more than his old age could achieve and was newly taken prisoner. But the chief mediator of this conflict was the night, which with her black arms pulled the malicious fighters one from the other.
Hearing the retreat sounded, he that had taken Kalander prisoner led the old gentleman to his captain, meaning nothing less than to save him – but only so long as the captain might learn the enemy’s secrets from him. Kalander looked for no other delivery from his captivity but by the painful taking away of all pain, when whom should he see next to the captain but his son Clitophon, bearing good tokens of how valiantly he had fought against the Arcadians.
By now the captain had assembled all the principal Helots to deliberate about what they had to do and to receive a message from the Arcadians. Among the Arcadians, Palladius’ virtue and the love Kalander brought him had gotten Palladius the principal authority, and he persuaded them to rescue the father and the son by negotiation rather than by the sword. The goodness of the captain assured him that such a resolution would succeed, and the value of the captain with whom he was of old acquainted made him consider any other method dangerous. His argument was delivered in an orderly manner, giving the Helots to understand that the Arcadians came for the sole purpose of rescuing Clitophon, offering to give up the footing they had occupied in town and to leave without any further hurt, so as they might have the father and son without ransom delivered.
Daiphantus persuaded the Helots to accept these conditions without delay:
“Since the conflict is within our own home, we will lose all that can be dear to us in this life if we lose. Even if we win, it will be a bloody victory with no profit but the flattering in ourselves that equals the bad humor of revenge. Besides, the conflict is likely to set Arcadia against us, but now, by taking the advantage of these persons, we may be able to earn amity. Last, although we have made a perfect peace with the king and nobility of Laconia, there is still a chance that they should hope to join the Arcadians by occasion of this quarrel and subsequently break off the profitable agreement already concluded with us.
“In sum (as in all deliberations, weighing the profit of good success against the harm of evil success) you shall find this way most safe and honorable.”
The Helots, as much moved by his authority as persuaded by his reasons, were content. Whereupon Palladius gave orders that the Arcadians should presently march out of the town, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keep them quiet, and ere day came they might be well on their way. It would allow them to avoid the risk of such accidents that in late enemies a look, a word, or a particular man’s quarrel might engender.
When both sides concluded this arrangement, Kalander and Clitophon, with infinite joy in meeting each other, came to kiss the hands and feet of Daiphantus. Clitophon told his father how Daiphantus (not without danger to himself) had preserved him from the furious malice of the Helots. That very day, going to conclude the peace (lest in his absence he might receive some hurt), he had taken Clitophon in his company and given him armor upon his promise that he should take the part of the Helots, as he had done in this fight, little knowing that it was against his father.
“Here is he,” said Clitophon, “who as a father has now begotten me, and as a god has saved me from many deaths that had threatened me.” And Kalander wept tears of joy and acknowledged his own deliverance and his benefit.
But Daiphantus loved doing well for itself and not for thanks and so broke off those ceremonies. He desired to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) had come into that company and what his present estate was.
Receiving a brief declaration from Kalander, Daiphantus sent Musidorus word by means of Clitophon that Musidorus should not as now come unto him, because he held himself not so sure a master of the Helots’ minds that he would adventure Musidorus in their power, who was so well known with an unfriendly acquaintance, but instead that he desired him to return with Kalander, whither also Daiphantus would repair within a few days, after dispatching himself of the Helots.
Kalander wanted to kiss his hand again for that promise, protesting that he would esteem his house more blessed than a temple of the gods if it had once received him there. And then desiring pardon for Argalus, Daiphantus assured them that he would die unless he brought Argalus too, who was kept in close prison. Indeed, he would do so for Argalus’ safety, since the Helots were so animated against him that otherwise he would not survive.
Then Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius, and the rest of the Arcadians took their leave of Daiphantus, swearing that they would no further in any sort molest the Helots. Straight away they marched out of the town, carrying both their dead and wounded bodies with them, and by morning they were already within the limits of Arcadia.
Chapter 7
Parthenia’s Resolution
Pyrocles and Argalus follow the others to Kalander’s house. Pyrocles’ youth is admired. A woman interrupts dinner, claiming that Parthenia sent her to marry Argalus. (1593 ed. 13v.13)
The Helots, of their side, shut their gates and gave themselves to bury their dead, to cure their wounds, and to rest their wearied bodies. When the next day bestowed the cheerful use of the light upon them, Daiphantus made a general convocation and spoke to them in this manner:
“We are first,” said he, “to thank the gods that, further than we had either cause to hope or reason to imagine, they have delivered us out of this gulf of danger, wherein we were already swallowed. Had they not directed my return just as they did when all was lost, it would have been too late to recover that which, being had, we could not keep.
“And had I not happened to know one of the principal men among them, by which means the truce began between us, you may easily conceive that we should have had our power turned to ruin and our pride to repentance and sorrow, either by some supply out of Arcadia or from the nobility of this country, who