And Ægeus stepped back a pace, and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim; and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and Theseus wept on his neck, till they had no strength left to weep more. Then Ægeus turned to all the people, and cried, ‘Behold my son, children of Cecrops, a better man than his father was before him.’ Who, then, were mad but the Pallantids, though they had been mad enough before? And one shouted, ‘Shall we make room for an upstart, a pretender, who comes from we know not where?’ And another, ‘If he be one, we are more than one; and the stronger can hold his own.’ And one shouted one thing, and one another; for they were hot and wild with wine: but all caught swords and lances off the wall, where the weapons hung around, and sprang forward to Theseus, and Theseus sprang forward to them. And he cried, ‘Go in peace, if you will, my cousins; but if not, your blood be on your own heads.’ But they rushed at him; and then stopped short and railed him, as curs stop and bark when they rouse a lion from his lair. But one hurled a lance from the rear rank, which past close by Theseus’ head; and at that Theseus rushed forward, and the fight began indeed. Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus beat them all; and those who were left fled down into the town, where the people set on them, and drove them out, till Theseus was left alone in the palace, with Ægeus his new-found father. But before nightfall all the town came up, with victims, and dances, and songs; and they offered sacrifices to Athené, and rejoiced all the night long, because their king had found a noble son, and an heir to his royal house. So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter: and when the spring equinox drew near, all the Athenians grew sad and silent, and Theseus saw it, and asked the reason; but no one would answer him a word. Then he went to his father, and asked him: but Ægeus turned away his face and wept. ‘Do not ask, my son, beforehand, about evils which must happen: it is enough to have to face them when they come.’ And when the spring equinox came, a herald came to Athens, and stood in the market, and cried, ‘O people and King of Athens, where is your yearly tribute?’ Then a great lamentation arose throughout the city. But Theseus stood up to the herald, and cried— ‘And who are you, dog-faced, who dare demand tribute here? If I did not reverence your herald’s staff, I would brain you with this club.’ And the herald answered proudly, for he was a grave and ancient man— ‘Fair youth, I am not dog-faced or shameless; but I do my master’s bidding, Minos, the King of hundred-citied Crete, the wisest of all kings on earth. And you must be surely a stranger here, or you would know why I come, and that I come by right.’ ‘I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come.’