A Victor of Salamis Part 54

"Medized!" The orator started as became an actor. "G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses!

what trust is in men if Phormio the Athenian has Medized?"

"Hear my story, _mu! mu!_" groaned Lampaxo. "It's a terrible thing to accuse one's own husband, but duty to h.e.l.las is duty. Your Excellency is a merciful man, if he could only warn Phormio in private."

"Woman,"-Democrates pulled his most consequential frown,-"Medizing is treason. On your duty as a daughter of Athens I charge you tell everything, then rely on my wisdom."

"Certainly, _kyrie_, certainly," gasped Lampaxo, and so she began a recital mingled with many moans and protestations, which Democrates dared not bid her hasten.

The good woman commenced by reminding the strategus how he had visited her and her brother Polus to question them as to the doings of the Babylonish carpet merchant, and how it had seemed plain to them that Glaucon was nothing less than a traitor. Next she proceeded to relate how her husband had enabled the criminal to fly by sea, and her own part therein-for she loudly accused herself of treason in possessing a guilty knowledge of the outlaw's manner of escape. As for Bias, he had just now gone on a message to Megara, but Democrates would surely castigate his own slave. "Still,"

wound up Lampaxo, "the traitor seemed drowned, and his treason locked up in Phorcys's strong box, and so I said nothing about him. More's the pity."

"The more reason for concealing nothing now."

"Zeus strike me if I keep back anything. It's now about ten days since _he_ returned."

" 'He?' Whom do you mean?"

"It's not overeasy to tell, _kyrie_. He calls himself Critias, and wears a long black beard and tangled hair. Phormio brought him home one evening-said he was the _proreus_ of a Melian trireme caulking at Epidaurus, but was once in the fish trade at Peiraeus and an old friend. I told Phormio we had enough these days to fill our own bellies, but my husband would be hospitable. I had to bring out my best honey cakes. Your Lordship knows I take just pride in my honey cakes."

"Beyond doubt,"-Democrates's hand twitched with impatience,-"but tell of the stranger."

"At once, _kyrie_; well, we all sat down to sup. Phormio kept pressing wine on the fellow as if we had not only one little jar of yellow Rhodian in the cellar. All the time the sailor barely spoke a few words of island Doric, but my heart misgave. He seemed so refined, so handsome. And near the roots of his hair it was not so dark-as if dyed and needing renewal.

Trust a woman's eyes for that. When supper was over Phormio orders me, 'Up the ladder and to bed. I'll come shortly, but leave a blanket and pillow for our friend who sleeps on the hearth.' Your Excellency knows we hired a little house on the 'Carpenter's Street,' very reasonably you will grant-only half a minae for the winter. I gave the stranger a fine pillow and a blanket embroidered by Stephanium, she was my great-aunt, and left it to me by will, and the beautiful red wool was from Byzantium-"

"But you spoke of Critias?" Democrates could scarce keep upon his seat.

"Yes, _kyrie_. Well, I warned Phormio not to give him any more wine. Then I went up the ladder. O Mother Demeter, how sharply I listened, but the rascals spoke too low together for me to catch anything, save that Critias had dropped his Doric and spoke good Attic now. At last Phormio came up to me, and I pretended to snore. In the morning, lo! the scoundrelly stranger had slipped away. In the evening he returns late. Phormio harbours him again. So for several nights, coming late, going early. Then to-night he comes a bit before his wont. He and Phormio drank more than common. After Phormio sent me away, they talked a long time and in louder voice."

"You overheard?" Democrates gripped his arm-chair.

"Yes, _kyrie_, blessed be Athena! The stranger spoke pure Attic such as your Excellency might use. Many times I heard Hermione named, and yourself once-"

"And how?"

"The stranger said: 'So she will not wed Democrates. She loathes him.

Aphrodite shed joy on her forever.' Then Phormio answered him, 'Therefore, dear Glaucon, you should trust the G.o.ds a little longer.' "

" 'Glaucon,' said he?" Democrates leaped from the chair.

" 'Glaucon,' on my oath by the Styx. Then I covered my head and wept. I knew my husband harboured the arch-traitor. Heaven can tell how he escaped the sea. As soon as Phormio was sleeping snug beside me, I went down the ladder, intending to call the watch. In the street I met a man, this good Phnician here,-he explained he was suspecting this 'Critias' himself, and lurked about in hopes of tracing him in the morning. I told my story. He said it was best to come straight to you. And now I have accused my own husband, Excellency. _Ai!_ was wife ever harder beset? Phormio is a kindly and commonly obedient man, even if he doesn't know the value of an obol.

You will be merciful-"

"Peace," commanded Democrates, with portentous gravity, "justice first, mercy later. Do you solemnly swear you heard Phormio call this stranger 'Glaucon'?"

"Yes, _kyrie_. Woe! woe!"

"And you say he is now asleep in your house?"

"Yes, the wine has made them both very heavy."

"You have done well." Democrates extended his hand again. "You are a worthy daughter of Athens. In years to come they will name you with King Codrus who sacrificed his life for the freedom of Attica, for have you not sacrificed what should be dearer than life,-the fair name of your husband?

But courage. Your patriotism may extenuate his crime. Only the traitor must be taken."

"Yes, he was breathing hard when I went out. Ah! seize him quickly."

"Retire," commanded Democrates, with a flourish; "leave me to concert with this excellent Hiram the means of thwarting I know not what gross villany."

The door had hardly closed behind Lampaxo, when Democrates fell as a heap into the cushions. He was ashen and palsied.

"Courage, master,"-Hiram was drawing a suggestive finger across his throat,-"the woman's tale is true metal. Critias shall sleep snug and sweetly to-night, if perchance too soundly."

"What will you do?" shrieked the wretched man.

"The thing is marvellously simple, master. The night is not yet old.

Hasdrubal and his crew of Carthaginians are here and by the grace of Baal can serve you. This cackling hen will guide us to the house. Heaven has put your enemy off his guard. He and Phormio will never wake to feel their throats cut. Then a good stone on each foot takes the corpses down in the harbour."

But Democrates dashed his hand in negation.

"No, by the infernal G.o.ds, not so! No murder. I cannot bear the curse of the Furies. Seize him, carry him to the ends of the earth, to hardest slavery. Let him never cross my path again. But no bloodshed-"

Hiram almost lost his never failing smile, so much he marvelled.

"But, your Lordship, the man is a giant, mighty as Melkarth.(12) Seizing will be hard. Sheol is the safest prison."

"No." Democrates was still shaking. "His ghost came to me a thousand times, though yet he lived. It would hound me mad if I murdered him."

"_You_ would not murder him. Your slave is not afflicted by dreams."

Hiram's smile was extremely insinuating.

"Don't quibble with words. It would be I who slew him, though I never struck the blow. You can seize him. Is he not asleep? Call Hasdrubal-bind Glaucon, gag him, drag him to the ship. But he must not die."

"Very good, Excellency." Hiram seldom quarrelled to no purpose with his betters. "Let your Lordship deign to leave this small matter to his slave.

By Baal's favour Hasdrubal and six of his crew sleep on sh.o.r.e to-night.

Let us pray they be not deep in wine. Wait for me one hour, perhaps two, and your heart and liver shall be comforted."

"Go, go! I will wait and pray to Hermes Dolios."

Hiram even now did not forget his punctilious salaam before departing.

Never had he seemed more the beautiful serpent with the shining scales than the instant he bent gracefully at Democrates's feet, the red light falling on his gleaming ear and nose rings, his smooth brown skin and beady eyes. The door turned on its pivots-closed. Democrates heard the retiring footsteps. No doubt the Phnician was taking Lampaxo with him.

The Athenian staggered across the room to his bed and flung himself on it, laughing hysterically. How absolutely his enemy was delivered into his hands! How the Morae in sending that Carthaginian ship, to do Lycon's business and his, had provided the means of ridding him of the haunting terror! How everything conspired to aid him! He need not even kill Glaucon. He would have no blood guiltiness, he need not dread Alecto and her sister Furies. He could trust Hiram and Hasdrubal to see to it that Glaucon never returned to plague him. And Hermione? Democrates laughed again. He was almost frightened at his own glee.

"A month, my nymph, a month, and you and your dear father, yes, Themistocles himself, will be in no state to answer me 'nay,'-though Glaucon come to claim you."

Thus he lay a long time, while the drip, drip from the water-clock in the corner told how the night was pa.s.sing. The lamp flickered and burned lower. He never knew the hours to creep so slowly.

At last, a knock; Scodrus, the yawning valet, ushering in a black and bearded sailor, who crouched eastern fashion at the feet of the strategus.