A Victor of Salamis Part 42

"May it please your Excellency, a deserter."

"A deserter, and how and why here?"

"He came to the _Nausicaa_ in a skiff. He swears he has just come from the Barbarians at Phaleron. He demands to see the admiral."

"He is a Barbarian?"

"No, a Greek. He affects to speak a kind of Doric dialect."

Themistocles laughed again, and even more lightly.

"A deserter, you say. Then why, by Athena's owls, has he left 'the Land of Roast Hare' among the Persians, whither so many are betaking themselves?

We've not so many deserters to our cause that to-night we can ignore one.

Fetch him in."

"But the council with Eurybiades?" implored Simonides, almost on his knees.

"To the harpies with it! I asked Zeus for an omen. It comes-a fair one.

There is time to hear this deserter, to confound Adeimantus, and to save h.e.l.las too!"

Themistocles tossed his head. The wavering, the doubting frown was gone.

He was himself again. What he hoped for, what device lay in that inexhaustible brain of his, Simonides did not know. But the sight itself of this strong, smiling man gave courage. The officer reentered, with him a young man, his face in part concealed by a thick beard and a peaked cap drawn low upon his forehead. The stranger came boldly across to Themistocles, spoke a few words, whereat the admiral instantly bade the officer to quit the cabin.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE CRAFT OF ODYSSEUS

The stranger drew back the s.h.a.ggy cap. Simonides and Themistocles saw a young, well-formed man. With his thick beard and the flickering cabin lamps it was impossible to discover more. The newcomer stood silent as if awaiting remark from the others, and they in turn looked on him.

"Well," spoke the admiral, at length, "who are you? Why are you here?"

"You do not know me?"

"Not in the least, and my memory is good. But your speech now is Attic, not Doric as they told me."

"It may well be Attic, I am Athenian born."

"Athenian? And still to me a stranger? Ah! an instant. Your voice is familiar. Where have I heard it before?"

"The last time," rejoined the stranger, his tones rising, "it was a certain night at Colonus. Democrates and Hermippus were with you-likewise-"

Themistocles leaped back three steps.

"The sea gives up its dead. You are Glaucon son of-"

"Conon," completed the fugitive, folding his arms calmly, but the admiral was not so calm.

"Miserable youth! What harpy, what evil G.o.d has brought you hither? What prevents that I give you over to the crew to crucify at the foremast?"

"Nothing hinders! nothing"-Glaucon's voice mounted to shrillness-"save that Athens and h.e.l.las need all their sons this night."

"A loyal son you have been!" darted Themistocles, his lips curling. "Where did you escape the sea?"

"I was washed on Astypalaea."

"Where have you been since?"

"In Sardis."

"Who protected you there?"

"Mardonius."

"Did the Persians treat you so shabbily that you were glad to desert them?"

"They loaded me with riches and honour. Xerxes showered me with benefits."

"And you accompanied their army to h.e.l.las? You went with the other Greek renegades-the sons of Hippias and the rest?"

Glaucon's brow grew very red, but he met Themistocles's arrowlike gaze.

"I did-and yet-"

"Ah, yes-the 'yet,' " observed Themistocles, sarcastically. "I had expected it. Well, I can imagine many motives for coming,-to betray our hopes to the Persians, or even because Athena has put some contrite manhood in your heart. You know, of course, that the resolution we pa.s.sed recalling the exiles did not extend pardon to traitors."

"I know it."

Themistocles flung himself into a chair. The admiral was in a rare condition for him,-truly at a loss to divine the best word and question.

"Sit also, Simonides," his order, "and you, once Alcmaeonid and now outlaw, tell why, after these confessions, I should believe any other part of your story?"

"I do not ask you to believe,"-Glaucon stood like a statue,-"I shall not blame you if you do the worst,-yet you shall hear-"

The admiral made an impatient gesture, commanding "Begin," and the fugitive poured out his tale. All the voyage from Phaleron he had been nerving himself for this ordeal; his composure did not desert now. He related lucidly, briefly, how the fates had dealt with him since he fled Colonus. Only when he told of his abiding with Leonidas Themistocles's gaze grew sharper.

"Tell that again. Be careful. I am very good at detecting lies."

Glaucon repeated unfalteringly.

"What proof that you were with Leonidas?"

"None but my word. Euboulus of Corinth and the Spartans alone knew my name. They are dead."

"Humph! And you expect me to accept the boast of a traitor with a price upon his head?"