The Glory That Was

Chapter Twenty

Bulnes, followed by Flin, plunged into the mob and caught the politician's military mantle as Kleon trotted down the steps of the Propylaia with the rest of the rout.

"What now?" said Kleon, turning a fat face gray with terror.

"It is a trick!" said Bulnes.

"How? That was no mortal voice — not even Stentor ..."

"It is still a trick. Perikles has a machine for enlarging the voice, hidden in that statue. I can prove it, and I can destroy the machine. Rally your men before they all melt away."

"Rally!" bawled Kleon. "It is a trick! I can prove it! No goddess, but a bit of Thessalian witchcraft! It is a trick! To me, me men!" He turned to Bulnes. "You had better be right. If this be a trick on your part, it will be your last. Hagnon! Diopithes! This way! Catch those runagates. It is a trick of the same sort Peisistratos played with the woman Phye."

He rushed about, catching a man here and a man there, shaking them, pushing them, and by sheer strength of personality rounding up nearly half his original force.

"And now?" said Kleon.

"Make sure you have the Propylaia blocked," said Bulnes, "so the Perikleans cannot come down. Then fetch me a lot of straw — say a few dozen beds — and a couple of jars of oil."

"What are you going to do?" whispered Flin.

"A good hot fire will melt the gravito-magnetic connections in the statue."

"What say you?" said Kleon.

"Never mind — get me that straw and oil, and a torch."

Kleon gave the orders that sent a score of men running down the hill into the city.

-Bulnes said, "Make a speech or something to keep your men occupied until they get back."

"O Kleon!" called a man with a pi on his shield. "Perikles wishes to know when you will obey the commands of the goddess."

"Tell him to give us time. This is too serious a matter to be decided without discussion." Kleon addressed his own men: "Men of Athens, you know that Athene, most virtuous of deities, would not employ a notorious murderer and traitor as her messenger to mortals. What you have heard is certainly very impressive, but let us not be fooled as were our great-grandparents by Peisistratos of infamous memory a century ago. I have reason to believe that the voice you heard was a trick ..."

He went on and on until the men he had sent out began to trickle back up the hill with their arms full of pallets.

"Kindly give me a few men to help, good Kleon," said Bulnes.

Under Bulnes's direction, they dragged their burdens to the Caves of Apollo and Pan. He led them into the Cave of Pan, into the passage to the priest-hole, at the sight of which some whistled. They went on into the tunnel leading back from that recess to the main subterranean tunnel system. Bulnes turned right at the intersection, climbed the slope, and presently stood under the interior bracing of the big statue.

He said to Flin, puffing beside him, "Wish I could knock off the lady's head to improve the draft. Do you see those things up inside the statue that look like women's hair ornaments? That is where your 'divine voice' came from. Pour some oil on the pallets and stuff them up inside the statue as far as you can."

When the oil-soaked pallets were all pushed into place, Bulnes himself thrust the torch as the nearest. The straw caught fire with a/loom. They trotted out of the tunnel with thick smoke billowing behind them.

Back at the Propylaia, Bulnes said to Kleon, "You may go backup above again. Soon, Perikles' divine voice will be stilled for good."

"Out of my way," said Kleon, and stamped up the marble steps.

At the porch he halted. The Periklean forces had come forward a little way with the retreat of the Kleonians, but most were still massed around the chariot on which Perikles stood. Beyond the chariot, little curls of black smoke issued from the Promachos.

"O Perikles!" roared Kleon. "Look behind you! So much for your pretended goddess! If it was not a trick, let Athene speak again!"

Perikles looked around, uttered an exclamation, dropped off the chariot, and hurried over to the statue. He fumbled among her brazen skirts and opened the same little door Bulnes had come out of on the previous occasion. Then he leaped back as a mass of bright yellow flame roared out, preventing him from closing the door again. The improved draft stimulated the fire; its roar became plainly audible and the volume of smoke increased.

Perikles strode purposefully toward Kleon and Bulnes. "So that is what you have been up to! Well, if the play is to end, at least you shall not live to succeed me, you self-seeking rabble-rouser!"

He whipped a pistol out from under his cloak, took careful aim at Kleon (who stared uncomprehendingly) and fired.

The crack of the firearm mingled with the explosion of the bullet. Bulnes felt warm wetness spatter him and looked around in time to see Kleon, his head gone, fall backward.

"The Tartessian!" said Perikles in English. "Another spy for Lenz, eh?"

Perikles swung his pistol up; the Emperor's finger tightened on the trigger.

From behind Bulnes came a flat unmusical snap, followed by the thump of an arrow striking a human target. Perikles staggered back and fired one wild shot. Then came the twang of a second bowshot. With two arrows in his chest, Perikles-Vasil, too, fell back upon the flagstones.

"Didn't get here none too soon, did I?" said Roi Diksen. "Hey, look at Flin — the guy's fainted!"

At that instant the same strange agitation began to creep over the crowd of armed men that Bulnes had seen on the drillfield and again at the house of Perikles. Men dropped their spears and shields and turned in wonderment and alarm to ask each other in modern Greek who and where they were.

Bulnes stepped forward to where lay Vasil Hohnsol-Romano, Emperor of the Earth, and picked up the pistol. The Emperor looked up and said faintly, "Fools! I'd have made you a heaven on earth. The mob never knows what's — good for ..." His head lolled.

Diksen said, "Hey, Mr. Bulnes, the gimmick must be off!"

Bulnes gestured toward the statue of Athene Promachos. The fire was beginning to burn itself out, though the statue still glowed redly in spots. He said, "That's our doing."

"Yeah? Then we're the only folks here knows what the score is. You better get up and tell 'em."

"I suppose so." Bulnes wearily hoisted himself onto the bronze chariot and spoke in stumbling modern Greek: "Gentlemen! If you will kindly listen, I shall tell you what's happened ..."

An hour later he had finished his explanation, answered questions, and organized the nearest Greeks into an impromptu government of Athens: some to go down into the city and repeat his explanation to the bewildered people there, others to police the town until it could reorganize itself, others to accompany Bulnes into the tunnels. Diksen he made police chief, despite the latter's wail, "But I don't want no job here! I wanna get back to good old Yonkers! If I ever leave Kaplen's Hardware Store again, you can fry my guts in olive oil ..."

Flin, revived, said, "I'm going to find Thalia!"

"Wait, my dear comrade," said Bulnes. "I have a task ..."

"Oh, find somebody else! I haven't got a minute to spare!"

Bulnes watched him go, his anger subsiding into contempt. Then Flin's departure suggested something to Bulnes.

He led his men back to the Cave of Apollo, into the tunnel from the priest-hole. At the door opening into the main tunnels this time he pushed the bell button.

After a while, the door opened, disclosing a surprised-looking man in khaki trousers and shirt. Bulnes said, "Out of the way, my dear sir. The Emp's dead, and the broadcasting machine is wrecked. The show's over."

The man went for a pistol. Bulnes whipped up the Emperor's gun and fired, crack! When Bulnes could see again after the flash of the explosion, the man was dead on the floor.

Bulnes picked up the man's pistol, handed it to the nearest Greek, and led his men down the slope to the entrance beneath the Theseion. The man at the desk looked up open-mouthed as Bulnes thrust his pistol into his face and said, "Give me the key to the machine-gun rack, quickly, if you please."

Bulnes unlocked the rack and passed out the guns. In fifteen minutes he and his men had a hundred-odd employees of the project rounded up. All the switches had been pulled, including that which controlled the force walls surrounding Greece.

Bulnes told the Greeks, "Take them out and chain them up in the Oikema until we decide what to do with them. Here, you, my good man, where is there an outside telephone?"

When he found the phone, he dialed long distance, then England, then Trafalgar 9-0672.

"Are you there?" he said. "Is this Trends Magazine? Good. Put me through to Mr. Ritçi, please. Robert? Knut Bulnes speaking. I have a story for you. Put the recorder on ..."

When he had given his editor-in-chief an account of the Periklean Project and his part in the recent events, he rang off and dialed Dagmar Mekrei's apartment.

"Why Knut darling!" she exclaimed when he had identified himself. "What on earth happened to you? You disappeared off the face of the earth last month ..."

"You'll read all about it in tomorrow's papers, darling. I'm in Athens ..."

"But you can't be! That's reserved territory!"

"Not any more, mariposa. Travel should be reestablished in a few days."

"Then you'll be coming back to London?"

"Not quite yet. Ritçi was so pleased with the story I gave him that he told me to take as long as I liked. Now it happens that my little ship is at the bottom of the harbor ..."

"Oh, how dreadful!"

"... and it'll take weeks to raise her, since there's no modern salvage apparatus here, thought you might like to fly down here as soon as the airlines are running again, stay here sightseeing while I get the ship up, and sail back to England with me."

"Oh — Knut ..."

"Yes?"

"I'm dreadfully sorry but — I'm married."

"You what?"

''Married. Remember Kaal Beiker? He's been asking me a long time, and when you disappeared — well ..."

"When was this?"

"Four days ago. He moved in with me, and I expect him home from work any time now."

Bulnes gulped, feeling the blood rush to his face, then leave it. "Well — uh — thanks for telling me. I hope — I hope — Oh, hell! Good-bye, Dagmar."

An hour later Bulnes arrived, in dungarees and yachting cap, in front of the house of Euripides in the Peiraieus. He parked the motor scooter and then knocked on the door.

Euripides himself opened it. When Bulnes explained who he was, Euripides said, "Come in, come in, o Kirie Bulnes."

"Efcharisto," said Bulnes, complying.

"I'm really Kostis Vutiras," continued the long-beard, "formerly a reporter for the Athenian Herald. Your friend Flin is here. He has been telling me that for seven or eight years I've been living the life of Euripides, the ancient poet. I should find it hard to believe, except for this ..."

He tugged the beard and led the way in.

"It is a little embarrassing," he continued in a lower voice. "I have a wife somewhere, too, and God knows what she's up to:"

Flin sat on an eating couch with Thalia, who greeted Bulnes without any sign of remembering his previous visit. He said, "Here are your modern clothes, my dear Wiyem. The gods save me from riding a motor scooter over these roads again!"

Flin said, "Thanks. It'll be jolly having pockets once more."

Thalia asked, "Have you been in touch with London yet, Knut?"

"Yes. I phoned the story in and spoke to Dag-mar."

"How is dear Dagmar after all these years?"

"She's somebody else's dear Dagmar now. She married that fellow Beiker a few days ago."

Thalia said; "Oh, Knut, I'm sorry!"

Flin, after a futile effort to control his features, burst into a guffaw.

"You find it amusing?" said Bulnes ominously.

"I'm s-sorry, Knut, really. But you go round all these years saying you won't be tied down by marriage, and no ruddy woman is worth it, and all that rot. Then, when you get stood up, you put on a face a meter long."

"It serves him right," said Thalia, "the way he kept the poor girl dangling so long. No wonder ..."

Flin, who had been going through his clothes, brought out a radio no bigger than a cigarette case. He snapped it on. Presently it hummed and gave forth music.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Bulnes.

"Had it all the time. Didn't work inside the force field."

The radio said: "We interrupt this program to bring another special bulletin. News of the unmasking of the late Emperor's Periklean Project has reached the World Parliament in New York and has caused tremendous excitement. A number of Populist supporters of Prime Minister Rudolf Lenz have deserted him and gone over to the Diffusionists. It now appears certain that the government will fall, and that the twelve-year strong-arm rule of the Lenz Ministry is at an end. The coronation of fourteen-year-old Crown Prince Seril will take place ..."

Flin said, "Wonder what they'll do with all these magnificent reproductions of ancient buildings? Tear 'em down and set up the authentic ruins again? I should think they could salvage ..."

Something gurgled; Euripides-Vutiras was pouring wine.

Bulnes said, "At least we can now drink our wine straight without being thought barbarians."

"What are your immediate plans, Knut?" asked Flin.

"To raise my boat. I don't suppose you'd be interested ..."

"Oh, no! We're rushing back to England as soon as there's transportation. Why don't you ask Diksen to go with you? He's a handy young chap, even if no intellectual."

"Not a bad idea," sighed Bulnes, feeling old and unloved.

Thalia said, "Cheer up, my old Knut. If you have changed your mind about women and are persuing honorable intentions ... Wiyem, are there any of my young cousins still unmarried?"

Flin pondered. "There's Ero, the one with the blue eyes."

"Splendid! I will arrange everything ..."

Bulnes said, "Excuse me! I shall be glad to meet the young lady, but beyond that I prefer to do my own arranging. I know you of old, my dear Thalia. Hereafter I will do as I like, eat what I like, and not what some megalomaniac emperor thinks I ought ..."

"Indeed?" said Vutiras. "Has it occurred to you that, even in your so-called normal, modern, twenty-seventh-century world, you may be merely somebody's puppet, as Mrs. Flin and I were in this one — only you haven't been clever enough to penetrate backstage?"

Bulnes and Flin exchanged an appalled glance. The latter burst out, "Oh, what a perfectly beastly idea!"

The End