Part 4 (2/2)
”But answer my arguments.”
”Well-the old oracle is proved: 'Base love of gain and naught else shall bear sore destruction to Sparta.' ”
”That doesn't halt Xerxes's advance.”
”An end to your croakings,”-Democrates was becoming angry,-”I know the Persian's power well enough. Now why have you summoned me?”
Lycon looked on his visitor long and hard. He reminded the Athenian disagreeably of a huge cat just considering whether a mouse were near enough to risk a spring.
”I sent for you because I wished you to give a pledge.”
”I'm in no mood to give it.”
”You need not refuse. Giving or withholding the fate of h.e.l.las will not be altered, save as you wish to make it so.”
”What must I promise?”
”That you will not reveal the presence in Greece of a man I intend to set before you.” Another silence. Democrates knew even then, if vaguely, that he was making a decision on which might hinge half his future. In the after days he looked back on this instant with unspeakable regret. But the Laconian sat before him, smiling, sneering, commanding by his more dominant will. The Athenian answered, it seemed, despite himself:-
”If it is not to betray h.e.l.las.”
”It is not.”
”Then I promise.”
”Swear it then by your native Athena.”
And Democrates-perhaps the wine was strong-lifted his right hand and swore by Athena Polias of Athens he would betray no secret.
Lycon arose with what was part bellow, part laugh. Even then the orator was moved to call back the pledge, but the Spartan acted too swiftly. The short moments which followed stamped themselves on Democrates's memory.
The flickering lamps, the squalid room, the long, dense shadows, the ungainly movements of the Spartan, who was opening a door,-all this pa.s.sed after the manner of a vision. And as in a vision Democrates saw a stranger stepping through the inner portal, as at Lycon's summons-a man of no huge stature, but masterful in eye and mien. Another Oriental, but not as the obsequious Hiram. Here was a lord to command and be obeyed. Gems flashed from the scarlet turban, the green jacket was embroidered with pearls-and was not half the wealth of Corinth in the jewels studding the sword hilt?
Tight trousers and high shoes of tanned leather set off a form supple and powerful as a panther's. Unlike most Orientals the stranger was fair. A blond beard swept his breast. His eyes were sharp, steel-blue. Never a word spoke he; but Democrates looked on him with wide eyes, then turned almost in awe to the Spartan.
”This is a prince-” he began.
”His Highness Prince Abairah of Cyprus,” completed Lycon, rapidly, ”now come to visit the Isthmian Games, and later your Athens. It is for this I have brought you face to face-that he may be welcome in your city.”
The Athenian cast at the stranger a glance of keenest scrutiny. He knew by every instinct in his being that Lycon was telling a barefaced lie. Why he did not cry out as much that instant he hardly himself knew. But the gaze of the ”Cyprian” pierced through him, fascinating, magnetizing, and Lycon's great hand was on his victim's shoulder. The ”Cyprian's” own hand went out seeking Democrates's.
”I shall be very glad to see the n.o.ble Athenian in his own city. His fame for eloquence and prudence is already in Tyre and Babylon,” spoke the stranger, never taking his steel-blue eyes from the orator's face. The accent was Oriental, but the Greek was fluent. The prince-for prince he was, whatever his nation-pressed his hand closer. Almost involuntarily Democrates's hand responded. They clasped tightly; then, as if Lycon feared a word too much, the unknown released his hold, bowed with inimitable though silent courtesy, and was gone behind the door whence he had come.
It had taken less time than men use to count a hundred. The latch clicked.
Democrates gazed blankly on the door, then turned on Lycon with a start.
”Your wine was strong. You have bewitched me. What have I done? By Zeus of Olympus-I have given my hand in pledge to a Persian spy.”
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