Part 52 (1/2)
”War makes many changes,” rejoined Dion. ”_Ai!_ is he beside himself or a kidnapper? He is walking off with the babe.”
The stranger indeed had seemed to forget them all and was going with swift strides up the Agora, but just before Niobe could begin her outcry he wheeled, and brought his merry burden back to the nurse's arms.
”You ought to be exceeding proud, my girl,” he remarked almost severely, ”to have such a precious babe in charge. I trust you are dutiful.”
”So I strive, _kyrie_, but he grows very strong. One cannot keep the swaddling clothes on him now. They say he will be a mighty athlete like his father.”
”Ah, yes-his father-” The sailor looked down.
”You knew Master Glaucon well?” pressed Dion, itching for a new bit of gossip.
”Well,” answered the sailor, standing gazing on the child as though something held him fascinated, then shot another question. ”And does the babe's lady-mother prosper?”
”She is pa.s.sing well in body, _kyrie_, but grievously ill in mind. Hera give her a release from all her sorrow!”
”Sorrow?” The man's eyes were opening wider, wider. ”What mean you?”
”Why, all Trzene knows it, I'm sure.”
”I'm not from Trzene. My s.h.i.+p made port from Naxos this morning. Speak, girl!”
He seized Niobe's wrist in a grip which she thought would crush the bone.
”_Ai!_ Let go, sir, you hurt. Don't stare so. I'm frightened. I'll tell as fast as I can. Master Democrates has come back from Corinth. Hermippus is resolved to make the _kyria_ wed him, however bitterly she resists. It's taken a long time for her father to determine to break her will, but now his mind's made up. The betrothal is in three days, the wedding ten days thereafter.”
The sailor had dropped her hand. She shrank at the pallor of his face. He seemed struggling for words; when they came she made nothing of them.
”Themistocles, Themistocles-your promise!”
Then by some giant exercise of will he steadied. His speech grew more coherent.
”Give me the child,” he commanded, and Niobe mutely obeyed. He kissed Phnix on both cheeks, mouth, forehead. They saw that tears were running down his bronzed face. He handed back the babe and again held out money,-a coin for both the slave girl and the soothsayer,-gold half-darics, that they gaped at wonderingly.
”Say nothing!” ordered the sailor, ”nothing of what I have said or done, or as Helios s.h.i.+nes this noon, I will kill you both.”
Not waiting reply, he went down the Agora at a run, and never looked back.
It took some moments for Dion and Niobe to recover their equanimity; they would have believed it all a dream, but lo! in their hands gleamed the money.
”There are times,” remarked the soothsayer, dubiously at last, ”when I begin to think the G.o.ds again walk the earth and work wonders. This is a very high matter. Even I with my art dare not meddle with it. It is best to heed the injunction to silence. Wagging tongues always have troubles as their children. Now let us proceed with my sacred c.o.c.k and his divination.”
Niobe got her philtre,-though whether it reconquered Procles is not contained in this history. Likewise, she heeded Dion's injunction. There was something uncanny about the strange sailor; she hid away the half-daric, and related nothing of her adventure even to her confidant Cleopis.
Three days later Democrates was not drinking wine at his betrothal feast, but sending this cipher letter by a swift and trusty ”distance-runner” to Sparta.
”Democrates to Lycon, greeting:-At Corinth I cursed you. Rejoice therefore; you are my only hope. I am with you whether your path leads to Olympus or to Hades. Tartarus is opened at my feet. You must save me. My words are confused, do you think? Then hear this, and ask if I have not cause for turning mad.
”Yesterday, even as Hermippus hung garlands on his house, and summoned the guests to witness the betrothal contract, Themistocles returned suddenly from Euba. He called Hermippus and myself aside. '_Glaucon lives_,' he said, 'and with the G.o.d's help we'll prove his innocence.' Hermippus at once broke off the betrothal. No one else knows aught thereof, not even Hermione. Themistocles refuses all further details. 'Glaucon lives,'-I can think of nothing else. Where is he? What does he? How soon will the awful truth go flying through h.e.l.las? I trembled when I heard he was dead. But name my terrors now I know he is alive! Send Hiram. He, if any snake living, can find me my enemy before it is too late. And speed the victory of Mardonius! _Chaire._”