CHAPTER VII
DEMOCRATES AND THE TEMPTER
In the northern quarter of Athens the suburb of Alopece thrust itselfunder the slopes of Mt. Lycabettus, that pyramid of tawny rock whichformed the rear bulwark, as it were, of every landscape of Athens. Thedwellings in the suburb were poor, though few even in the richer quarterswere at all handsome; the streets barely sixteen feet wide, ill-paved,filthy, dingy. A line of dirty gray stucco house-fronts was broken only bythe small doors and the smaller windows in the second story. Occasionallya two-faced bust of Hermes stood before a portal, or a marble lion's headspouted into a corner water trough. All Athenian streets resembled these.The citizen had his Pnyx, his Jury-Court, his gossiping Agora for his day.These dingy streets sufficed for the dogs, the slaves, and the women, whomwise Zeus ordered to remain at home.
Phormio the fishmonger had returned from his traffic, and sat in hishouse-door meditating over a pot of sour wine and watching the last lightflickering on the great bulk of the mountain. He had his sorrows,--goodman,--for Lampaxo his worthy wife, long of tongue, short of temper, thriftyand very watchful, was reminding him for the seventh time that he had solda carp half an obol too cheap. His patience indeed that evening was sonear to exhaustion that after cursing inwardly the "match-maker" who hadsaddled this Amazon upon him, he actually found courage for an outbreak.He threw up his arms after the manner of a tragic actor:--
"True, true is the word of Hesiod!"
"True is what?" flew back none too gently.
" 'The fool first suffers and is after wise.' Woman, I am resolved."
"On what?" Lampaxo's voice was soft as broken glass.
"Years increase. I shan't live long. We are childless. I will provide foryou in my will by giving you in marriage to Hyperphon."(3)
"Hyperphon!" screamed the virago, "Hyperphon the beggarly hunchback, thelaughing-stock of Athens! O Mother Hera!--but I see the villain's aim. Youare weary of me. Then divorce me like an honourable man. Send me back toPolus my dear brother. Ah, you sheep, you are silent! You think of thetwo-minae dowry you must then refund. Woe is me! I'll go to the KingArchon. I'll charge you with gross abuse. The jury will condemn you.There'll be fines, fetters, stocks, prison--"
"Peace," groaned Phormio, terrified at the Gorgon, "I only thought--"
"How dared you think? What permitted--"
"Good evening, sweet sister and Phormio!" The salutation came from Polus,who with Clearchus had approached unheralded. Lampaxo smoothed her ruffledfeathers. Phormio stifled his sorrows. Dromo, the half-starved slave-boy,brought a pot of thin wine to his betters. The short southern twilight wasswiftly passing into night. Groups of young men wandered past, boundhomeward from the Cynosarges, the Academy, or some other well-lovedgymnasium. In an hour the streets would be dark and still, except for abelated guest going to his banquet, a Scythian constable, or perhaps acloak thief. For your Athenian, when he had no supper invitation, went tobed early and rose early, loving the sunlight far better than the flickerof his uncertain lamps.
"And did the jury vote 'guilty'?" was Phormio's first question of hisbrother-in-law.
"We were patriotically united. There were barely any white beans foracquittal in the urn. The scoundrelly grain-dealer is stripped of all hepossesses and sent away to beg in exile. A noble service to Athens!"
"Despite the evidence," murmured Clearchus; but Lampaxo's shrill voiceanswered her brother:--
"It's my opinion you jurors should look into a case directly opposite thishouse. Spies, I say, Persian spies."
"Spies!" cried Polus, leaping up as from a coal; "why, Phormio, haven'tyou denounced them? It's compounding with treason even to fail to report--"
"Peace, brother," chuckled the fishmonger, "your sister smells for treasonas a dog for salt fish. There is a barbarian carpet merchant--a Babylonian,I presume--who has taken the empty chambers above Demas's shield factoryopposite. He seems a quiet, inoffensive man; there are a hundred otherforeign merchants in the city. One can't cry 'Traitor!' just because thepoor wight was not born to speak Greek."
"I do not like Babylonish merchants," propounded Polus, dogmatically; "tothe jury with him, I say!"
"At least he has a visitor," asserted Clearchus, who had long been silent."See, a gentleman wrapped in a long himation is going up to the door andstanding up his walking stick."
"And if I have eyes," vowed the juror, squinting through his hands in thehalf light, "that closely wrapped man is Glaucon the Alcmaeonid."
"Or Democrates," remarked Clearchus; "they look much alike from behind.It's getting dark."
"Well," decided Phormio, "we can easily tell. He has left his stick belowby the door. Steal across, Polus, and fetch it. It must be carved with theowner's name."
The juror readily obeyed; but to read the few characters on the crookedhandle was beyond the learning of any save Clearchus, whose art demandedthe mystery of writing.
"I was wrong," he confessed, after long scrutiny, " 'Glaucon, son ofConon.' It is very plain. Put the cane back, Polus."
The cane was returned, but the juror pulled a very long face.
"Dear friends, here is a man I've already suspected of undemocraticsentiments conferring with a Barbarian. Good patriots cannot be toovigilant. A plot, I assert. Treason to Athens and Hellas! Freedom's indanger. Henceforth I shall look on Glaucon the Alcmaeonid as an enemy ofliberty."
"_Phui!_" almost shouted Phormio, whose sense of humour was keen, "a nobleconspiracy! Glaucon the Fortunate calls on a Babylonish merchant by night.You say to plot against Athens. I say to buy his pretty wife a carpet."
"The gods will some day explain," said Clearchus, winding up theargument,--and so for a little while the four forgot all about Glaucon.
* * * * * * *
Despite the cane, Clearchus was right. The visitor was Democrates. Theorator mounted the dark stair above the shield-factory and knocked againsta door, calling, "_Pai! Pai!_" "Boy! boy!" a summons answered by noneother than the ever smiling Hiram. The Athenian, however, was littleprepared for the luxury, nay splendour, which greeted him, once thePhoenician had opened the door. The bare chamber had been transformed. Thefoot sank into the glowing carpets of Kerman and Bactria. Thegold-embroidered wall tapestries were of Sidonian purple. The divans werecovered with wondrous stuff which Democrates could not name,--another agewould call it silk. A tripod smoked with fragrant Arabian frankincense.Silver lamps, swinging from silver chains, gave brilliant light. TheAthenian stood wonderbound, until a voice, not Hiram's, greeted him.
"Welcome, Athenian," spoke the Cyprian, in his quaint, eastern accent. Itwas the strange guest in the tavern by Corinth. The Prince--prince surely,whatever his other title--was in the same rich dress as at the Isthmus,only his flowing beard had been dyed raven black. Yet Democrates's eyeswere diverted instantly to the peculiarly handsome slave-boy on the divanbeside his master. The boy's dress, of a rare blue stuff, enveloped himloosely. His hair was as golden as the gold thread on the round cap. Inthe shadows the face almost escaped the orator,--he thought he saw clearblue eyes and a marvellously brilliant, almost girlish, bloom andfreshness. The presence of this slave caused the Athenian to hesitate, butthe Cyprian bade him be seated, with one commanding wave of the hand.
"This is Smerdis, my constant companion. He is a mute. Yet if otherwise, Iwould trust him as myself."
Democrates, putting by surprise, began to look on his host fixedly.
"My dear Barbarian, for that you are a Hellene you will not pretend, yourealize, I trust, you incur considerable danger in visiting Athens."
"I am not anxious," observed the Prince, composedly. "Hiram is watchfuland skilful. You see I have dyed my hair and beard black and pass for aBabylonish merchant."
"With all except me, _philotate_,--'dearest friend,' as we say in Athens."Democrates's smile was not wholly agreeable.
"With all except you," assented the Prince, fingering the scarlet tasselof th
e cushion whereon he sat. "I reckoned confidently that you would cometo visit me when I sent Hiram to you. Yes--I have heard the story that ison your tongue: one of Themistocles's busybodies has brought a rumour thata certain great man of the Persian court is missing from the side of hismaster, and you have been requested to greet that nobleman heartily if heshould come to Athens."
"You know a great deal!" cried the orator, feeling his forehead grow hot.
"It is pleasant to know a great deal," smiled back the Prince, carelessly,while Hiram entered with a tray and silver goblets brimming withviolet-flavoured sherbet; "I have innumerable 'Eyes-and-ears.' You haveheard the name? One of the chief officers of his Majesty is 'The RoyalEye.' You Athenians are a valiant and in many things a wise people, yetyou could grow in wisdom by looking well to the East."
"I am confident," exclaimed Democrates, thrusting back the goblet, "ifyour Excellency requires a noble game of wits, you can have one. I needonly step to the window, and cry 'Spies!'--after which your Excellency canexercise your wisdom and eloquence defending your life before one of ourAttic juries."
"Which is a polite and patriotic manner of saying, dearest Athenian, youare not prepared to push matters to such unfortunate extremity. I omitwhat his Majesty might do in the way of taking vengeance; sufficient thatif aught unfortunate befalls me, or Hiram, or this my slave Smerdis, whilewe are in Athens, a letter comes to your noble chief Themistocles from thebanker Pittacus of Argos."
Democrates, who had risen to his feet, had been flushed before. He becamepale now. The hand that clutched the purple tapestry was trembling. Thewords rose to his lips, the lips refused to utter them. The Prince, whohad delivered his threat most quietly, went on, "In short, goodDemocrates, I was aware before I came to Athens of our necessities, and Icame because I was certain I could relieve them."
"Never!" The orator shot the word out desperately.
"You are a Hellene."
"Am I ashamed of it?"
"Do not, however, affect to be more virtuous than your race. Persians maketheir boast of truth-telling and fidelity. You Hellenes, I hear, have evena god--Hermes Dolios,--who teaches you lying and thieving. The customs ofnations differ. Mazda the Almighty alone knoweth which is best. Followthen the customs of Hellenes."
"You speak in riddles."
"Plainer, then. You know the master I serve. You guess who I am, thoughyou shall not name me. For what sum will you serve Xerxes the Great King?"
The orator's breath came deep. His hands clasped and unclasped, then werepressed behind his head.
"I told Lycon, and I tell you, I am no traitor to Hellas."
"Which means, of course, you demand a fair price. I am not angry. You willfind a Persian pays like the lord he is, and that his darics always ringtrue metal."
"I'll hear no more. I was a fool to meet Lycon at Corinth, doubly a foolto meet you to-night. Farewell."
Democrates seized the latch. The door was locked. He turned furiously onthe Barbarian. "Do you keep me by force? Have a care. I can be terrible ifdriven to bay. The window is open. One shout--"
The Cyprian had risen, and quietly, but with a grip like iron onDemocrates's wrist, led the orator back to the divan.
"You can go free in a twinkling, but hear you shall. Before you boast ofyour power, you shall know all of mine. I will recite your condition.Contradict if I say anything amiss. Your father Myscelus was of the noblehouse of Codrus, a great name in Athens, but he left you no large estate.You were ambitious to shine as an orator and leader of the Athenians. Towin popularity you have given great feasts. At the last festival of theTheseia you fed the poor of Athens on sixty oxen washed down with goodRhodian wine. All that made havoc in your patrimony."
"By Zeus, you speak as if you lived all your life in Athens!"
"I have said 'I have many eyes.' But to continue. You gave the price ofthe tackling for six of the triremes with which Themistocles pretends tobelieve he can beat back my master. Worse still, you have squandered manyminae on flute girls, dice, cock-fights, and other gentle pleasures. Inshort your patrimony is not merely exhausted but overspent. That, however,is not the most wonderful part of my recital."
"How dare you pry into my secrets?"
"Be appeased, dear Athenian; it is much more interesting to know you denynothing of all I say. It is now five months since you were appointed byyour sagacious Athenian assembly as commissioner to administer the silvertaken from the mines at Laurium and devoted to your navy. You fulfilledthe people's confidence by diverting much of this money to the payment ofyour own great debts to the banker Pittacus of Argos. At present you are'watching the moon,' as you say here in Athens,--I mean, that at the end ofthis month you must account to the people for all the money you havehandled, and at this hour are at your wits' ends to know whence therepayment will come."
"That is all you know of me?"
"All."
Democrates sighed with relief. "Then you have yet to complete the story,my dear Barbarian. I have adventured on half the cargo of a largemerchantman bringing timber and tin from Massalia; I look every day for amessenger from Corinth with news of her safe arrival. Upon her coming Ican make good all I owe and still be a passing rich man."
If the Cyprian was discomposed at this announcement, he did not betray it.
"The sea is frightfully uncertain, good Democrates. Upon it, as manyfortunes are lost as are made."
"I have offered due prayers to Poseidon, and vowed a gold tripod on theship's arrival."
"So even your gods in Hellas have their price," was the retort, with anill-concealed sneer. "Do not trust them. Take ten talents from me andto-night sleep sweetly."
"Your price?" the words slipped forth involuntarily.
"Themistocles's private memoranda for the battle-order of your new fleet."
"Avert it, gods! The ship will reach Corinth, I warn you--" Democrates'sgestures became menacing, as again he rose, "I will set you inThemistocles's hand as soon--"
"But not to-night." The Prince rose, smiled, held out his hand. "Unbar thedoor for his Excellency, Hiram. And you, noble sir, think well of all Isaid at Corinth on the certain victory of my master; think also--" thevoice fell--"how Democrates the Codrid could be sovereign of Athens underthe protection of Persia."
"I tyrant of Athens?" the orator clapped his hand behind his back; "yousay enough. Good evening."
He was on the threshold, when the slave-boy touched his master's hand insilent signal.
"And if there be any fair woman you desire,"--how gliding the Cyprian'svoice!--"shall not the power of Xerxes the great give her unto you?"
Why did Democrates feel his forehead turn to flame? Why--almost againstwill--did he stretch forth his hand to the Cyprian? He went down the stairscarce feeling the steps beneath him. At the bottom voices greeted himfrom across the darkened street.
"A fair evening, Master Glaucon."
"A fair evening," his mechanical answer; then to himself; as he walkedaway, "Wherefore call me Glaucon? I have somewhat his height, though nothis shoulder. Ah,--I know it, I have chanced to borrow his carvedwalking-stick. Impudent creatures to read the name!"
He had not far to go. Athens was compactly built, all quarters closetogether. Yet before he reached home and bed, he was fighting back anill-defined but terrible thought. "Glaucon! They think I am Glaucon. If Ichose to betray the Cyprian--" Further than that he would not suffer thethought to go. He lay sleepless, fighting against it. The dark was full ofthe harpies of uncanny suggestion. He arose unrefreshed, to proffer everygod the same prayer: "Deliver me from evil imaginings. Speed the ship toCorinth."
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