[pg 95]CHAPTER IXTHE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHSDemocrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he wouldbehorrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies.Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a fashionable promenade of[pg 96]Athens. He was regarded as a confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer.But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key.The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,”ran his commentary;“here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in[pg 97]Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.”What that“power”was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked it hurriedly.“Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.”He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new copies in his breast and called in Bias.“I am going out, but I shall not be late.”“Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?”asked the fellow.“Last night there were foot-pads.”“I don’t need you,”rejoined his master, brusquely.He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from[pg 98]dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment.“Again Glaucon,”he caught, but was not troubled.“After all,”he reflected,“if seen at all, there is no harm in such a mistake.”The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.“Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.”Democrates turned away his face.“You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”“And wherefore miserable, good friend?”The Cyprian half led, half compelled the visitor to a seat on the divan.“Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?”“Don’t goad me!”Democrates wrung his hands.“I am desperate. Take these papyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again.”He flung the two rolls in the Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery.The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval the Prince spoke.[pg 99]“Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.”“Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.”The Prince turned to Hiram.“And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?”“Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.”The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.“Good,”continued the emissary;“yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them with an oath.”The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.“Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.”Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity.“I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?”The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.“We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter,[pg 100]to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my word is my oath.”The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation.“So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?”He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates bent over it.“Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—”The Prince raised a warning finger.“Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.”“So be it,”rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last reprieve from death.“But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.”The Prince shrugged his shoulders.“Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.”The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates[pg 101]drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him.“As you will,”spoke the Athenian;“I have warned you. Trust then your God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!”“Until you again have need,”said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise.Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house wasout.No one seemed to be watching. On the way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him,“They think it wasGlauconwho has been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller.”* * * * * * *As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.“Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!”The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest“Royal Persian,”such as one might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful“mute,”mute no longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress.“And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you[pg 102]speak them fair?”was the remark in the same musical tongue.“Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world.”Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew her bright face nearer.“This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,”he spoke;“how nearly you were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.”“But the adventure is ending,”answered she, with smiling confidence;“Mazda has guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will conquer, which you will rule.”“Yes,”he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight.“How noble a city this! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.”“I shall be mistress of Athens,”echoed she,“but you, husband and lord, would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s slaves!”[pg 103]“Xerxes is king,”he answered her.“My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.”And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.“You are bold, Rose of Eran,”he smiled, not angry at her implication;“more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!”She gave a gentle laugh.“The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your wife?”His laugh answered her.“Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!”He leaned again from the lattice,“O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.”“We will conquer,”she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the night.“From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The[pg 104]Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—”he held out his arms confidently—“shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him,‘Master, fear not; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.’And in one brief year, Ofravashi, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.”Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.“And yet,”she could not keep back the question,“as we have moved through this Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack.”He shook his head.“It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it them.”“For some day you will be their king?”spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke.[pg 105]“Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,”he spoke upward to the stars,“give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world.”[pg 106]CHAPTER XDEMOCRATES RESOLVESDemocrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor.“Nestor and Odysseus both speak to us,”shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the urn.“What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage the city in a crisis like this!”So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not.“Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?”“Certainly.”[pg 107]“And the house of Phormio thefishmonger?”to which Democrates nodded.“Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told Sicinnus an odd tale.”“What tale?”Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze.“Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear Glaucon.”“Impossible.”“Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!”“I’ll inquire at once.”“Do so. The matter grows serious.”Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was[pg 108]one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the confederatehimself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him.“A fair morning, Democrates.”It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon.“A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”“To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of theNausicaä. You will join us?”“Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.”“Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, and that you will soon be prosecuting me?”“Avert it, gods! What do you mean?”“Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,”asserted Cimon.“Now I say Argos has Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.”“Be jury on my treachery,”commanded Glaucon.“Ageladas the master-sculptor sends me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks because he lives in Argos?”“‘Not guilty’votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes to-day?”“To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the sacrifice.”“He goes by sea?”asked Democrates, casually.“By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.”The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in his own chambers. Three[pg 109]things were graven on his mind: Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was sending a letter to Argos.* * * * * * *Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by“cutting into shoe soles.”Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite sufficiently.Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard him muttering as he walked:—“O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!”Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was[pg 110]gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting thus.“Clearly thekyriosis mad,”was his own explanation, and growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the leg of a gold-chafer5and watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table.“Curses upon the miserable stuff!”he swore almost loudly;“it is this which has set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroythat, and the deed is beyond my power.”He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold.“What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit of clay.”He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge.“A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And yet,—and yet,—”He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully.“O Father Zeus!”he broke out after silence,“if I were not compelled by fear! Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles[pg 111]so unmerciful! It would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.”He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him.“Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?”—he ended with a laugh more bitter than a sob.“And I must save myself, but at such a price!”He pressed his hands over his eyes.“Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.”But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it.“I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I shall never be the worse.”He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway.“It is a dreadful death to die;”—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—“hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the house of Codrus branded‘A Traitor to Athens’? Is it wickedness to save one’s own life?”Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch[pg 112]edness he watched the throng beneath the window, pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself.“I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am I to do?”He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels.She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates.Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds never to be recalled.“The omen!”he almost cried,“the omen! Not Zeus[pg 113]but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with me.”He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute.Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands.“What is it,kyrie?”“Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something to speed them.”He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.“Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,”ordered the master,—and Bias’s legs never went faster than on that afternoon.Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:—“Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of your identity. Leave Athens to-[pg 114]morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.”After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:—“With scourge and with banWe prostrate the man,Who with smooth-woven wile,And a fair-facèd smileHath planted a snare for his friend.Though fleet, we shall find him;Though strong, we shall bind him,Who planted a snare for his friend.”Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will.“Hermes,”prayed the orator,“Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper me in the deed to which I set my hand,”—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd god with too mean a gift,“and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy favour.”The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great god and[pg 115]would help him. When the song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s face and asking one triumphant question:—“She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?”
[pg 95]CHAPTER IXTHE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHSDemocrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he wouldbehorrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies.Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a fashionable promenade of[pg 96]Athens. He was regarded as a confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer.But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key.The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,”ran his commentary;“here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in[pg 97]Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.”What that“power”was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked it hurriedly.“Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.”He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new copies in his breast and called in Bias.“I am going out, but I shall not be late.”“Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?”asked the fellow.“Last night there were foot-pads.”“I don’t need you,”rejoined his master, brusquely.He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from[pg 98]dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment.“Again Glaucon,”he caught, but was not troubled.“After all,”he reflected,“if seen at all, there is no harm in such a mistake.”The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.“Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.”Democrates turned away his face.“You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”“And wherefore miserable, good friend?”The Cyprian half led, half compelled the visitor to a seat on the divan.“Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?”“Don’t goad me!”Democrates wrung his hands.“I am desperate. Take these papyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again.”He flung the two rolls in the Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery.The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval the Prince spoke.[pg 99]“Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.”“Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.”The Prince turned to Hiram.“And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?”“Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.”The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.“Good,”continued the emissary;“yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them with an oath.”The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.“Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.”Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity.“I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?”The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.“We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter,[pg 100]to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my word is my oath.”The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation.“So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?”He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates bent over it.“Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—”The Prince raised a warning finger.“Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.”“So be it,”rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last reprieve from death.“But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.”The Prince shrugged his shoulders.“Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.”The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates[pg 101]drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him.“As you will,”spoke the Athenian;“I have warned you. Trust then your God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!”“Until you again have need,”said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise.Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house wasout.No one seemed to be watching. On the way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him,“They think it wasGlauconwho has been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller.”* * * * * * *As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.“Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!”The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest“Royal Persian,”such as one might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful“mute,”mute no longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress.“And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you[pg 102]speak them fair?”was the remark in the same musical tongue.“Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world.”Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew her bright face nearer.“This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,”he spoke;“how nearly you were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.”“But the adventure is ending,”answered she, with smiling confidence;“Mazda has guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will conquer, which you will rule.”“Yes,”he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight.“How noble a city this! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.”“I shall be mistress of Athens,”echoed she,“but you, husband and lord, would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s slaves!”[pg 103]“Xerxes is king,”he answered her.“My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.”And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.“You are bold, Rose of Eran,”he smiled, not angry at her implication;“more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!”She gave a gentle laugh.“The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your wife?”His laugh answered her.“Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!”He leaned again from the lattice,“O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.”“We will conquer,”she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the night.“From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The[pg 104]Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—”he held out his arms confidently—“shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him,‘Master, fear not; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.’And in one brief year, Ofravashi, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.”Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.“And yet,”she could not keep back the question,“as we have moved through this Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack.”He shook his head.“It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it them.”“For some day you will be their king?”spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke.[pg 105]“Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,”he spoke upward to the stars,“give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world.”[pg 106]CHAPTER XDEMOCRATES RESOLVESDemocrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor.“Nestor and Odysseus both speak to us,”shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the urn.“What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage the city in a crisis like this!”So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not.“Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?”“Certainly.”[pg 107]“And the house of Phormio thefishmonger?”to which Democrates nodded.“Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told Sicinnus an odd tale.”“What tale?”Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze.“Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear Glaucon.”“Impossible.”“Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!”“I’ll inquire at once.”“Do so. The matter grows serious.”Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was[pg 108]one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the confederatehimself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him.“A fair morning, Democrates.”It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon.“A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”“To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of theNausicaä. You will join us?”“Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.”“Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, and that you will soon be prosecuting me?”“Avert it, gods! What do you mean?”“Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,”asserted Cimon.“Now I say Argos has Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.”“Be jury on my treachery,”commanded Glaucon.“Ageladas the master-sculptor sends me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks because he lives in Argos?”“‘Not guilty’votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes to-day?”“To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the sacrifice.”“He goes by sea?”asked Democrates, casually.“By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.”The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in his own chambers. Three[pg 109]things were graven on his mind: Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was sending a letter to Argos.* * * * * * *Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by“cutting into shoe soles.”Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite sufficiently.Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard him muttering as he walked:—“O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!”Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was[pg 110]gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting thus.“Clearly thekyriosis mad,”was his own explanation, and growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the leg of a gold-chafer5and watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table.“Curses upon the miserable stuff!”he swore almost loudly;“it is this which has set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroythat, and the deed is beyond my power.”He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold.“What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit of clay.”He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge.“A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And yet,—and yet,—”He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully.“O Father Zeus!”he broke out after silence,“if I were not compelled by fear! Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles[pg 111]so unmerciful! It would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.”He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him.“Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?”—he ended with a laugh more bitter than a sob.“And I must save myself, but at such a price!”He pressed his hands over his eyes.“Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.”But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it.“I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I shall never be the worse.”He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway.“It is a dreadful death to die;”—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—“hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the house of Codrus branded‘A Traitor to Athens’? Is it wickedness to save one’s own life?”Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch[pg 112]edness he watched the throng beneath the window, pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself.“I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am I to do?”He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels.She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates.Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds never to be recalled.“The omen!”he almost cried,“the omen! Not Zeus[pg 113]but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with me.”He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute.Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands.“What is it,kyrie?”“Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something to speed them.”He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.“Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,”ordered the master,—and Bias’s legs never went faster than on that afternoon.Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:—“Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of your identity. Leave Athens to-[pg 114]morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.”After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:—“With scourge and with banWe prostrate the man,Who with smooth-woven wile,And a fair-facèd smileHath planted a snare for his friend.Though fleet, we shall find him;Though strong, we shall bind him,Who planted a snare for his friend.”Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will.“Hermes,”prayed the orator,“Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper me in the deed to which I set my hand,”—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd god with too mean a gift,“and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy favour.”The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great god and[pg 115]would help him. When the song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s face and asking one triumphant question:—“She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?”
[pg 95]CHAPTER IXTHE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHSDemocrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he wouldbehorrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies.Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a fashionable promenade of[pg 96]Athens. He was regarded as a confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer.But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key.The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,”ran his commentary;“here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in[pg 97]Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.”What that“power”was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked it hurriedly.“Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.”He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new copies in his breast and called in Bias.“I am going out, but I shall not be late.”“Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?”asked the fellow.“Last night there were foot-pads.”“I don’t need you,”rejoined his master, brusquely.He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from[pg 98]dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment.“Again Glaucon,”he caught, but was not troubled.“After all,”he reflected,“if seen at all, there is no harm in such a mistake.”The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.“Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.”Democrates turned away his face.“You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”“And wherefore miserable, good friend?”The Cyprian half led, half compelled the visitor to a seat on the divan.“Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?”“Don’t goad me!”Democrates wrung his hands.“I am desperate. Take these papyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again.”He flung the two rolls in the Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery.The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval the Prince spoke.[pg 99]“Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.”“Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.”The Prince turned to Hiram.“And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?”“Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.”The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.“Good,”continued the emissary;“yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them with an oath.”The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.“Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.”Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity.“I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?”The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.“We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter,[pg 100]to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my word is my oath.”The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation.“So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?”He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates bent over it.“Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—”The Prince raised a warning finger.“Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.”“So be it,”rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last reprieve from death.“But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.”The Prince shrugged his shoulders.“Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.”The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates[pg 101]drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him.“As you will,”spoke the Athenian;“I have warned you. Trust then your God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!”“Until you again have need,”said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise.Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house wasout.No one seemed to be watching. On the way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him,“They think it wasGlauconwho has been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller.”* * * * * * *As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.“Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!”The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest“Royal Persian,”such as one might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful“mute,”mute no longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress.“And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you[pg 102]speak them fair?”was the remark in the same musical tongue.“Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world.”Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew her bright face nearer.“This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,”he spoke;“how nearly you were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.”“But the adventure is ending,”answered she, with smiling confidence;“Mazda has guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will conquer, which you will rule.”“Yes,”he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight.“How noble a city this! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.”“I shall be mistress of Athens,”echoed she,“but you, husband and lord, would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s slaves!”[pg 103]“Xerxes is king,”he answered her.“My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.”And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.“You are bold, Rose of Eran,”he smiled, not angry at her implication;“more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!”She gave a gentle laugh.“The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your wife?”His laugh answered her.“Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!”He leaned again from the lattice,“O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.”“We will conquer,”she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the night.“From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The[pg 104]Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—”he held out his arms confidently—“shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him,‘Master, fear not; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.’And in one brief year, Ofravashi, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.”Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.“And yet,”she could not keep back the question,“as we have moved through this Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack.”He shook his head.“It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it them.”“For some day you will be their king?”spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke.[pg 105]“Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,”he spoke upward to the stars,“give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world.”[pg 106]CHAPTER XDEMOCRATES RESOLVESDemocrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor.“Nestor and Odysseus both speak to us,”shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the urn.“What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage the city in a crisis like this!”So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not.“Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?”“Certainly.”[pg 107]“And the house of Phormio thefishmonger?”to which Democrates nodded.“Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told Sicinnus an odd tale.”“What tale?”Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze.“Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear Glaucon.”“Impossible.”“Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!”“I’ll inquire at once.”“Do so. The matter grows serious.”Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was[pg 108]one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the confederatehimself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him.“A fair morning, Democrates.”It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon.“A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”“To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of theNausicaä. You will join us?”“Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.”“Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, and that you will soon be prosecuting me?”“Avert it, gods! What do you mean?”“Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,”asserted Cimon.“Now I say Argos has Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.”“Be jury on my treachery,”commanded Glaucon.“Ageladas the master-sculptor sends me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks because he lives in Argos?”“‘Not guilty’votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes to-day?”“To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the sacrifice.”“He goes by sea?”asked Democrates, casually.“By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.”The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in his own chambers. Three[pg 109]things were graven on his mind: Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was sending a letter to Argos.* * * * * * *Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by“cutting into shoe soles.”Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite sufficiently.Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard him muttering as he walked:—“O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!”Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was[pg 110]gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting thus.“Clearly thekyriosis mad,”was his own explanation, and growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the leg of a gold-chafer5and watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table.“Curses upon the miserable stuff!”he swore almost loudly;“it is this which has set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroythat, and the deed is beyond my power.”He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold.“What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit of clay.”He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge.“A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And yet,—and yet,—”He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully.“O Father Zeus!”he broke out after silence,“if I were not compelled by fear! Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles[pg 111]so unmerciful! It would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.”He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him.“Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?”—he ended with a laugh more bitter than a sob.“And I must save myself, but at such a price!”He pressed his hands over his eyes.“Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.”But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it.“I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I shall never be the worse.”He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway.“It is a dreadful death to die;”—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—“hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the house of Codrus branded‘A Traitor to Athens’? Is it wickedness to save one’s own life?”Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch[pg 112]edness he watched the throng beneath the window, pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself.“I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am I to do?”He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels.She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates.Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds never to be recalled.“The omen!”he almost cried,“the omen! Not Zeus[pg 113]but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with me.”He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute.Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands.“What is it,kyrie?”“Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something to speed them.”He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.“Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,”ordered the master,—and Bias’s legs never went faster than on that afternoon.Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:—“Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of your identity. Leave Athens to-[pg 114]morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.”After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:—“With scourge and with banWe prostrate the man,Who with smooth-woven wile,And a fair-facèd smileHath planted a snare for his friend.Though fleet, we shall find him;Though strong, we shall bind him,Who planted a snare for his friend.”Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will.“Hermes,”prayed the orator,“Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper me in the deed to which I set my hand,”—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd god with too mean a gift,“and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy favour.”The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great god and[pg 115]would help him. When the song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s face and asking one triumphant question:—“She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?”
[pg 95]CHAPTER IXTHE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHSDemocrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he wouldbehorrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies.Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a fashionable promenade of[pg 96]Athens. He was regarded as a confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer.But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key.The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,”ran his commentary;“here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in[pg 97]Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.”What that“power”was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked it hurriedly.“Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.”He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new copies in his breast and called in Bias.“I am going out, but I shall not be late.”“Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?”asked the fellow.“Last night there were foot-pads.”“I don’t need you,”rejoined his master, brusquely.He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from[pg 98]dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment.“Again Glaucon,”he caught, but was not troubled.“After all,”he reflected,“if seen at all, there is no harm in such a mistake.”The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.“Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.”Democrates turned away his face.“You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”“And wherefore miserable, good friend?”The Cyprian half led, half compelled the visitor to a seat on the divan.“Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?”“Don’t goad me!”Democrates wrung his hands.“I am desperate. Take these papyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again.”He flung the two rolls in the Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery.The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval the Prince spoke.[pg 99]“Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.”“Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.”The Prince turned to Hiram.“And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?”“Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.”The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.“Good,”continued the emissary;“yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them with an oath.”The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.“Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.”Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity.“I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?”The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.“We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter,[pg 100]to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my word is my oath.”The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation.“So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?”He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates bent over it.“Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—”The Prince raised a warning finger.“Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.”“So be it,”rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last reprieve from death.“But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.”The Prince shrugged his shoulders.“Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.”The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates[pg 101]drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him.“As you will,”spoke the Athenian;“I have warned you. Trust then your God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!”“Until you again have need,”said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise.Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house wasout.No one seemed to be watching. On the way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him,“They think it wasGlauconwho has been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller.”* * * * * * *As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.“Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!”The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest“Royal Persian,”such as one might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful“mute,”mute no longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress.“And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you[pg 102]speak them fair?”was the remark in the same musical tongue.“Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world.”Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew her bright face nearer.“This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,”he spoke;“how nearly you were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.”“But the adventure is ending,”answered she, with smiling confidence;“Mazda has guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will conquer, which you will rule.”“Yes,”he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight.“How noble a city this! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.”“I shall be mistress of Athens,”echoed she,“but you, husband and lord, would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s slaves!”[pg 103]“Xerxes is king,”he answered her.“My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.”And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.“You are bold, Rose of Eran,”he smiled, not angry at her implication;“more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!”She gave a gentle laugh.“The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your wife?”His laugh answered her.“Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!”He leaned again from the lattice,“O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.”“We will conquer,”she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the night.“From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The[pg 104]Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—”he held out his arms confidently—“shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him,‘Master, fear not; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.’And in one brief year, Ofravashi, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.”Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.“And yet,”she could not keep back the question,“as we have moved through this Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack.”He shook his head.“It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it them.”“For some day you will be their king?”spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke.[pg 105]“Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,”he spoke upward to the stars,“give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world.”
Democrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of the capture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festival of the Panathenæa the orator could find a large sum, he was forever undone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property. He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. The jury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonous hemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,—an open pit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.
One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money. Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus for the asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that while the athlete might find the money, he wouldbehorrified at the foul disclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendship would be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough to ruin Democrates’s political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glaucon was therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperate remedies.
Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of the Acropolis, a fashionable promenade of[pg 96]Athens. He was regarded as a confirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls in Phaleron had helped him to part with a good many minæ, no one scolded too loudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democrates affected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of his living room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glittered brass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars, and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator’s artistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowed arm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,—a statuette of the precious Corinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer’s unpaid account lay still, alas! in the orator’s coffer.
But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as of divers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias, the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the door and closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarlet wall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key.
The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money, nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which the orator studied more intently,—a number of hard bits of clay bearing the impressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might have betrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.
“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,”ran his commentary;“here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in[pg 97]Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.”
What that“power”was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box with a snap and locked it hurriedly.
“Cursed casket!—I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of the deep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foul thoughts.”
He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it, unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink and papyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, and almost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at the notes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. He grimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying, replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid his new copies in his breast and called in Bias.
“I am going out, but I shall not be late.”
“Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?”asked the fellow.“Last night there were foot-pads.”
“I don’t need you,”rejoined his master, brusquely.
He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze of back alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way. Once he caught the glint of a lantern—a slave lighting home his master from[pg 98]dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeing nothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw light spreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curious eyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates took boldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to the Cyprian’s stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment.“Again Glaucon,”he caught, but was not troubled.
“After all,”he reflected,“if seen at all, there is no harm in such a mistake.”
The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.
“Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.”
Democrates turned away his face.
“You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”
“And wherefore miserable, good friend?”The Cyprian half led, half compelled the visitor to a seat on the divan.“Is it such to be enrolled from this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?”
“Don’t goad me!”Democrates wrung his hands.“I am desperate. Take these papyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again.”He flung the two rolls in the Prince’s lap and sat in abject misery.
The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned to Hiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not a word was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from an inner chamber and silently take station at his master’s side, following the papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval the Prince spoke.
“Well—you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles on the equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are only copies.”
“Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to give them up.”
The Prince turned to Hiram.
“And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda are genuine?”
“Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness’s slaves.”
The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that reminded Democrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.
“Good,”continued the emissary;“yet I must ask our good Athenian to confirm them with an oath.”
The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but being forced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by Zeus Orchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he brought true copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himself and all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction, then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.
“Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds its counterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.”
Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity.
“I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?”
The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.
“We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter,[pg 100]to men of trickery and guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, to bend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I have spoken,—my word is my oath.”
The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused. But the Prince almost instantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone of conciliation.
“So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Can the man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?”
He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet. Democrates bent over it.
“Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,—the seal of the royal Achæmenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are—”
The Prince raised a warning finger.“Hush, Athenian. Think what you will, but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world.”
“So be it,”rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as at a last reprieve from death.“But be warned, even though I bear you no good-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, is searching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.”
The Prince shrugged his shoulders.
“Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars, is good. I do not shun it.”
The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates[pg 101]drew toward the door, and the others did not strive to detain him.
“As you will,”spoke the Athenian;“I have warned you. Trust then your God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!”
“Until you again have need,”said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise.
Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house wasout.No one seemed to be watching. On the way homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans, and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the broken shekel,—the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth, while many times it returned to him,“They think it wasGlauconwho has been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller.”
* * * * * * *
As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the rugs to the window—and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.
“Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!”
The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest“Royal Persian,”such as one might hear in the king’s court. The beautiful“mute,”mute no longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder with a gracious caress.
“And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you[pg 102]speak them fair?”was the remark in the same musical tongue.
“Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness, covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race beneath Mithra’s glorious light. And we Persians must play with them, master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world.”
Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silver embroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear gold hair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. The shining head pressed against the Persian’s breast. In this attitude, with the loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubt of the other’s sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew her bright face nearer.
“This is a mad adventure on which we two have come,”he spoke;“how nearly you were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunder by Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran, from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes.”
“But the adventure is ending,”answered she, with smiling confidence;“Mazda has guarded us. As you have said—we are in his hand, alike here and in my brother’s palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens—the country and city which you will conquer, which you will rule.”
“Yes,”he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of the Acropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight.“How noble a city this! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shall be my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens.”
“I shall be mistress of Athens,”echoed she,“but you, husband and lord, would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of the Great King’s slaves!”
“Xerxes is king,”he answered her.
“My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Great and Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed in Susa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia—is here.”And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.
“You are bold, Rose of Eran,”he smiled, not angry at her implication;“more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of the bow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man? Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthy the twenty kingdoms!”
She gave a gentle laugh.
“The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I not your wife?”
His laugh answered her.
“Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!”
He leaned again from the lattice,“O, fairest of cities, and we shall win it! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! How clearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks, clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them our Aryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! For we are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, from the Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,—all shall be ours; for we are Persians, the race to rule forever.”
“We will conquer,”she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by the beauties of the night.
“From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, the High God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon—have all bowed under our yoke. The[pg 104]Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, the Hindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas—”he held out his arms confidently—“shall be the brightest star in the Persian tiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him,‘Master, fear not; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.’And in one brief year, Ofravashi, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. I will make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king.”
Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.
“And yet,”she could not keep back the question,“as we have moved through this Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princes of little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse, unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength to do great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack.”
He shook his head.
“It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And all the wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. But I will teach it them.”
“For some day you will be their king?”spoke the woman. He did not reprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In the moonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolis stood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jagged ledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like a dark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrapped hush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmering in answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The two sensitive Orientals’ souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent, then the husband spoke.
“Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The war only remains, and the glory, the conquest,—and thou. O Ahura-Mazda,”he spoke upward to the stars,“give to thy Persians this land. For when Thou hast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world.”
[pg 106]CHAPTER XDEMOCRATES RESOLVESDemocrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor.“Nestor and Odysseus both speak to us,”shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the urn.“What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage the city in a crisis like this!”So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not.“Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?”“Certainly.”[pg 107]“And the house of Phormio thefishmonger?”to which Democrates nodded.“Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told Sicinnus an odd tale.”“What tale?”Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze.“Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear Glaucon.”“Impossible.”“Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!”“I’ll inquire at once.”“Do so. The matter grows serious.”Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was[pg 108]one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the confederatehimself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him.“A fair morning, Democrates.”It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon.“A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”“To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of theNausicaä. You will join us?”“Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.”“Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, and that you will soon be prosecuting me?”“Avert it, gods! What do you mean?”“Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,”asserted Cimon.“Now I say Argos has Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.”“Be jury on my treachery,”commanded Glaucon.“Ageladas the master-sculptor sends me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks because he lives in Argos?”“‘Not guilty’votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes to-day?”“To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the sacrifice.”“He goes by sea?”asked Democrates, casually.“By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.”The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in his own chambers. Three[pg 109]things were graven on his mind: Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was sending a letter to Argos.* * * * * * *Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by“cutting into shoe soles.”Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite sufficiently.Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard him muttering as he walked:—“O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!”Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was[pg 110]gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting thus.“Clearly thekyriosis mad,”was his own explanation, and growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the leg of a gold-chafer5and watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table.“Curses upon the miserable stuff!”he swore almost loudly;“it is this which has set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroythat, and the deed is beyond my power.”He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold.“What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit of clay.”He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge.“A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And yet,—and yet,—”He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully.“O Father Zeus!”he broke out after silence,“if I were not compelled by fear! Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles[pg 111]so unmerciful! It would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.”He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him.“Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?”—he ended with a laugh more bitter than a sob.“And I must save myself, but at such a price!”He pressed his hands over his eyes.“Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.”But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it.“I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I shall never be the worse.”He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway.“It is a dreadful death to die;”—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—“hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the house of Codrus branded‘A Traitor to Athens’? Is it wickedness to save one’s own life?”Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch[pg 112]edness he watched the throng beneath the window, pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself.“I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am I to do?”He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels.She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates.Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds never to be recalled.“The omen!”he almost cried,“the omen! Not Zeus[pg 113]but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with me.”He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute.Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands.“What is it,kyrie?”“Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something to speed them.”He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.“Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,”ordered the master,—and Bias’s legs never went faster than on that afternoon.Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:—“Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of your identity. Leave Athens to-[pg 114]morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.”After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:—“With scourge and with banWe prostrate the man,Who with smooth-woven wile,And a fair-facèd smileHath planted a snare for his friend.Though fleet, we shall find him;Though strong, we shall bind him,Who planted a snare for his friend.”Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will.“Hermes,”prayed the orator,“Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper me in the deed to which I set my hand,”—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd god with too mean a gift,“and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy favour.”The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great god and[pg 115]would help him. When the song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s face and asking one triumphant question:—“She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?”
Democrates surpassed himself when arraigning the knavish contractor.“Nestor and Odysseus both speak to us,”shouted Polus in glee, flinging his black bean in the urn.“What eloquence, what righteous fury when he painted the man’s infamy to pillage the city in a crisis like this!”
So the criminal was sent to death and Democrates was showered with congratulations. Only one person seemed hardly satisfied with all the young orator did,—Themistocles. The latter told his lieutenant candidly he feared all was not being done to apprehend the Persian emissary. Themistocles even took it upon himself to send Sicinnus to run down several suspects, and just on the morning of the day preceding the Panathenæa—the great summer festival—Democrates received a hint which sent him home very thoughtful. He had met his chief in the Agora as he was leaving the Government-House, and Themistocles had again asked if he had smelt aught of the Persian agent. He had not.
“Then you would well devote more time to finding his scent, and less to convicting a pitiful embezzler. You know the Alopece suburb?”
“Certainly.”
“And the house of Phormio thefishmonger?”to which Democrates nodded.
“Well, Sicinnus has been watching the quarter. A Babylonish carpet-seller has rooms opposite Phormio. The man is suspicious, does no trading, and Phormio’s wife told Sicinnus an odd tale.”
“What tale?”Democrates glanced at a passing chariot, avoiding Themistocles’s gaze.
“Why, twice the Barbarian, she swears, has had an evening visitor—and he our dear Glaucon.”
“Impossible.”
“Of course. The good woman is mistaken. Still, question her. Pry into this Babylonian’s doings. He may be selling more things than carpets. If he has corrupted any here in Athens,—by Pluto the Implacable, I will make them tell out the price!”
“I’ll inquire at once.”
“Do so. The matter grows serious.”
Themistocles caught sight of one of the archons and hastened across the Agora to have a word with him. Democrates passed his hand across his forehead, beaded with sudden sweat-drops. He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor. To get the spy safely out of Athens would be the first step,—but not all. Sicinnus once upon the scent would not readily drop it until he had discovered the emissary’s confederate. And of the fate of that confederate Themistocles had just given a grim hint. There was[pg 108]one other solution possible. If Democrates could discover the confederatehimself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him.
“A fair morning, Democrates.”It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon.
“A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”
“To the Peiræus to inspect the new tackling of theNausicaä. You will join us?”
“Unfortunately I argue a case before the King Archon.”
“Be as eloquent as in your last speech. Do you know, Cimon declares I am disloyal too, and that you will soon be prosecuting me?”
“Avert it, gods! What do you mean?”
“Why, he is sending a letter to Argos,”asserted Cimon.“Now I say Argos has Medized, therefore no good Hellene should correspond with a traitorous Argive.”
“Be jury on my treachery,”commanded Glaucon.“Ageladas the master-sculptor sends me a bronze Perseus in honour of my victory. Shall I churlishly send him no thanks because he lives in Argos?”
“‘Not guilty’votes the jury; the white beans prevail. So the letter goes to-day?”
“To-morrow afternoon. You know Seuthes of Corinth—the bow-legged fellow with a big belly. He goes home to-morrow afternoon after seeing the procession and the sacrifice.”
“He goes by sea?”asked Democrates, casually.
“By land; no ship went to his liking. He will lie overnight at Eleusis.”
The friends went their ways. Democrates hardly saw or heard anything until he was in his own chambers. Three[pg 109]things were graven on his mind: Sicinnus was watching, the Babylonian was suspected, Glaucon was implicated and was sending a letter to Argos.
* * * * * * *
Bias the Thracian was discovered that afternoon by his master lurking in a corner of the chamber. Democrates seized a heavy dog-whip, lashed the boy unmercifully, then cast him out, threatening that eavesdropping would be rewarded by“cutting into shoe soles.”Then the master resumed his feverish pacings and the nervous twisting of his fingers. Unfortunately, Bias felt certain the threat would never have been uttered unless the weightiest of matters had been on foot. As in all Greek dwellings, Democrates’s rooms were divided not by doors but by hanging curtains, and Bias, letting curiosity master fear, ensconced himself again behind one of these and saw all his master’s doings. What Democrates said and did, however, puzzled his good servant quite sufficiently.
Democrates had opened the privy cupboard, taken out one of the caskets and scattered its contents upon the table, then selected a papyrus, and seemed copying the writing thereon with extreme care. Next one of the clay seals came into play. Democrates was testing it upon wax. Then the orator rose, dashed the wax upon the floor, put his sandal thereon, tore the papyrus on which he wrote to bits. Again he paced restlessly, his hands clutching his hair, his forehead frowns and blackness, while Bias thought he heard him muttering as he walked:—
“O Zeus! O Apollo! O Athena! I cannot do this thing! Deliver me! Deliver!”
Then back to the table again, once more to pick up the mysterious clay, again to copy, to stamp on the wax, to fling down, mutilate, and destroy. The pantomime was[pg 110]gone through three times. Bias could make nothing of it. Since the day his parents—following the barbarous Thracian custom—had sold him into slavery and he had passed into Democrates’s service, the lad had never seen his master acting thus.
“Clearly thekyriosis mad,”was his own explanation, and growing frightened at following the strange movements of his lord, he crept from his retreat and tried to banish uncanny fears at a safe distance, by tying a thread to the leg of a gold-chafer5and watching its vain efforts at flight. Yet had he continued his eavesdropping he might have found—if not the key to all Democrates’s doings—at least a partial explanation. For the fourth time the papyrus had been written, for the fourth time the orator had torn it up. Then his eyes went down to the lump of clay before him on the table.
“Curses upon the miserable stuff!”he swore almost loudly;“it is this which has set the evil thoughts to racing. Destroythat, and the deed is beyond my power.”
He held up the clay and eyed it as a miser might his gold.
“What a little lump! Not very hard. I can dash it on the floor and it dissolves in dust. And yet, and yet—all Elysium, all Tartarus, are pent up for me in just this bit of clay.”
He picked at it with his finger and broke a small piece from the edge.
“A little more, the stamp is ruined. I could not use it. Better if it were ruined. And yet,—and yet,—”
He laid the clay upon the table and sat watching it wistfully.
“O Father Zeus!”he broke out after silence,“if I were not compelled by fear! Sicinnus is so sharp, Themistocles[pg 111]so unmerciful! It would be a terrible death to die,—and every man is justified in shunning death.”
He looked at the inanimate lump as if he expected it to answer him.
“Ah, I am all alone. No one to counsel me. In every other trouble when has it been as this? Glaucon? Cimon? Themistocles?—What would they advise?”—he ended with a laugh more bitter than a sob.“And I must save myself, but at such a price!”
He pressed his hands over his eyes.
“Curses on the hour I met Lycon! Curses on the Cyprian and his gold! It would have been better to have told Glaucon and let him save me now and hate me forever after. But I have sold myself to the Cyprian. The deed cannot be taken back.”
But as he said it, he arose, took the charmed bit of clay, replaced in the box, and locked the coffer. His hand trembled as he did it.
“I cannot do this thing. I have been foolish, wicked,—but I must not be driven mad by fear. The Cyprian must quit Athens to-morrow. I can throw Sicinnus off the scent. I shall never be the worse.”
He walked with the box toward the cupboard, but stopped halfway.
“It is a dreadful death to die;”—his thoughts raced and were half uttered,—“hemlock!—men grow cold limb by limb and keep all their faculties to the end. And the crows in the Barathrum, and the infamy upon my father’s name! When was a son of the house of Codrus branded‘A Traitor to Athens’? Is it wickedness to save one’s own life?”
Instead of going to the cupboard he approached the window. The sun beat hotly, but as he leaned forth into the street he shivered as on a winter’s morn. In blank wretch[pg 112]edness he watched the throng beneath the window, pannier-laden asses, venders of hot sausage with their charcoal stoves and trays, youths going to and from the gymnasium, slaves returning from market. How long he stood thus, wretched, helpless, he did not know. At last he stirred himself.
“I cannot stand gaping like a fool forever. An omen, by every god an omen! Ah! what am I to do?”He glanced toward the sky in vain hope of a lucky raven or eagle winging out of the east, but saw only blue and brightness. Then his eye went down the street, and at the glance the warm blood tingled from his forehead to his heels.
She was passing,—Hermione, child of Hermippus. She walked before, two comely maids went after with her stool and parasol; but they were the peonies beside the rose. She had thrown her blue veil back. The sun played over the sheen of her hair. As she moved, her floating saffron dress of the rare muslin of Amorgos now revealed her delicate form, now clothed her in an enchanting cloud. She held her head high, as if proud of her own grace and of the beauty and fair name of her husband. She never looked upward, nor beheld how Democrates’s eyes grew like bright coals as he gazed on her. He saw her clear high forehead, he heard—or thought he heard despite the jar of the street—the rustle of the muslin robe. Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates.
Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible. It was an instant when men grasp the godlike or sink to the demon, when they do deeds never to be recalled.
“The omen!”he almost cried,“the omen! Not Zeus[pg 113]but Hermes the Guileful sent it. He will be with me. She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine? I will do the deed to the uttermost. The god is with me.”
He flung the casket upon the table and spread its fateful contents again before him. His hand flew over the papyrus with marvellous speed and skill. He knew that all his faculties were at his full command and unwontedly acute.
Bias was surprised at his sport by a sudden clapping of his master’s hands.
“What is it,kyrie?”
“Go to Agis. He keeps the gaming-house in the Ceramicus. You know where. Tell him to come hither instantly. He shall not lack reward. Make your feet fly. Here is something to speed them.”
He flung at the boy a coin. Bias opened eyes and mouth in wonder. It was not silver, but a golden daric.
“Don’t blink at it, sheep, but run. Bring Agis,”ordered the master,—and Bias’s legs never went faster than on that afternoon.
Agis came. Democrates knew his man and had no difficulty in finding his price. They remained talking together till it was dark, yet in so guarded a tone that Bias, though he listened closely, was unable to make out anything. When Agis went away, he carried two letters. One of these he guarded as if holding the crown jewels of the Great King; the second he despatched by a discreet myrmidon to the rooms of the Cyprian in Alopece. Its contents were pertinent and ran thus:—
“Democrates to the stranger calling himself a prince of Cyprus, greeting:—Know that Themistocles is aware of your presence in Athens, and grows suspicious of your identity. Leave Athens to-[pg 114]morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.”
After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps. The room seemed full of lurking goblins,—harpies, gorgons, the Hydra, the Minotaur, every other foul and noxious shape was waiting to spring forth. And, most maddening of all, the chorus of Æschylus, that Song of the Furies Democrates had heard recited at the Isthmus, rang in the miserable man’s ears:—
“With scourge and with banWe prostrate the man,Who with smooth-woven wile,And a fair-facèd smileHath planted a snare for his friend.Though fleet, we shall find him;Though strong, we shall bind him,Who planted a snare for his friend.”
“With scourge and with ban
We prostrate the man,
Who with smooth-woven wile,
And a fair-facèd smile
Hath planted a snare for his friend.
Though fleet, we shall find him;
Though strong, we shall bind him,
Who planted a snare for his friend.”
Democrates approached the bust of Hermes standing in one corner. The brazen face seemed to wear a smile of malignant gladness at the fulfilment of his will.
“Hermes,”prayed the orator,“Hermes Dolios, god of craft and lies, thieves’ god, helper of evil,—be with me now. To Zeus, to Athena the pure, I dare not pray. Prosper me in the deed to which I set my hand,”—he hesitated, he dared not bribe the shrewd god with too mean a gift,“and I vow to set in thy temple at Tanagra three tall tripods of pure gold. So be with me on the morrow, and I will not forget thy favour.”
The brazen face still smiled on; the room was very still. Yet Democrates took comfort. Hermes was a great god and[pg 115]would help him. When the song of the Furies grew too loud, Democrates silenced it by summoning back Hermione’s face and asking one triumphant question:—
“She is Glaucon’s wife. But if not his, whose then but mine?”