CHAPTER IX
THE CYPRIAN TRIUMPHS
Democrates fronted ruin. What profit later details from Socias of thecapture of the merchantman? Unless three days before the coming festivalof the Panathenaea the orator could find a large sum, he was foreverundone. His sequestering of the ship-money would become public property.He would be tried for his life. Themistocles would turn against him. Thejury would hardly wait for the evidence. He would drink the poisonoushemlock and his corpse be picked by the crows in the Barathrum,--an openpit, sole burial place for Athenian criminals.
One thing was possible: to go to Glaucon, confess all, and beg the money.Glaucon was rich. He could have the amount from Conon and Hermippus forthe asking. But Democrates knew Glaucon well enough to perceive that whilethe athlete might find the money, he would be horrified at the fouldisclosure. He would save his old comrade from death, but their friendshipwould be ended. He would feel in duty bound to tell Themistocles enough toruin Democrates's political prospects for all time. An appeal to Glauconwas therefore dismissed, and the politician looked for more desperateremedies.
Democrates enjoyed apartments on the street of the Tripods east of theAcropolis, a fashionable promenade of Athens. He was regarded as aconfirmed bachelor. If, therefore, two or three dark-eyed flute girls inPhaleron had helped him to part with a good many minae, no one scolded tooloudly; the thing had been done genteelly and without scandal. Democratesaffected to be a collector of fine arms and armour. The ceiling of hisliving room was hung with white-plumed helmets, on the walls glitteredbrass greaves, handsomely embossed shields, inlaid Chalcidian scimitars,and bows tipped with gold. Under foot were expensive rugs. The orator'sartistic tastes were excellent. Even as he sat in the deeply pillowedarm-chair his eye lighted on a Nike,--a statuette of the preciousCorinthian bronze, a treasure for which the dealer's unpaid account laystill, alas! in the orator's coffer.
But Democrates was not thinking so much of the unpaid bronze-smith as ofdivers weightier debts. On the evening in question he had ordered Bias,the sly Thracian, out of the room; with his own hands had barred the doorand closed the lattice; then with stealthy step thrust back the scarletwall tapestry to disclose a small door let into the plaster. A key madethe door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-boundbox of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened witha complex key.
The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic. Not money,nor jewels, but rolls of closely written papyri, and things which theorator studied more intently,--a number of hard bits of clay bearing theimpressions of seals. As Democrates fingered these, his face might havebetrayed a mingling of keen fear and keener satisfaction.
"There is no such collection in all Hellas,--no, not in the world," ran hiscommentary; "here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of theBoeotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure theseal of Leonidas while in Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles's,--howeasily I took it! And this--of less value perhaps to a man of the world--isof my beloved Glaucon. And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,"--heunrolled them lovingly, one after another,--"precious specimens, are theynot? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I'd haveused that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted intothese straits."
What that "power" was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did noteven whisper to himself. His mood changed suddenly. He closed the box witha snap and locked it hurriedly.
"Cursed casket!--I think I would be happier if Phorcys, the old man of thedeep, could drown it all! I would be better for it and kept from foulthoughts."
He thrust the box back in the cupboard, drew forth a second like it,unlocked it, and took out more writings. Selecting two, he spread ink andpapyrus before him, and copied with feverish haste. Once he hesitated, andalmost flung back the writings into the casket. Once he glanced at thenotes he had prepared for his speech against the defrauding contractor. Hegrimaced bitterly. Then the hesitation ended. He finished the copying,replaced the second box, and barred and concealed the cupboard. He hid hisnew copies in his breast and called in Bias.
"I am going out, but I shall not be late."
"Shall not Hylas and I go with lanterns?" asked the fellow. "Last nightthere were foot-pads."
"I don't need you," rejoined his master, brusquely.
He went down into the dimly lighted street and wound through the maze ofback alleys wherein Athens abounded, but Democrates never missed his way.Once he caught the glint of a lantern--a slave lighting home his masterfrom dinner. The orator drew into a doorway; the others glided by, seeingnothing. Only when he came opposite the house of the Cyprian he saw lightspreading from the opposite doorway and knew he must pass under curiouseyes. Phormio was entertaining friends very late. But Democrates tookboldness for safety, strode across the illumined ring, and up to theCyprian's stairway. The buzz of conversation stopped a moment. "AgainGlaucon," he caught, but was not troubled.
"After all," he reflected, "if seen at all, there is no harm in such amistake."
The room was again glittering in its Oriental magnificence. The Cyprianadvanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly.
"Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal yourcalamity."
Democrates turned away his face.
"You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!"
"And wherefore miserable, good friend?" The Cyprian half led, halfcompelled the visitor to a seat on the divan. "Is it such to be enrolledfrom this day among the benefactors of my most gracious lord and king?"
"Don't goad me!" Democrates wrung his hands. "I am desperate. Take thesepapyri, read, pay, then let me never see your face again." He flung thetwo rolls in the Prince's lap and sat in abject misery.
The other unrolled the writings deliberately, read slowly, motioned toHiram, who also read them with catlike scrutiny. During all this not aword was spoken. Democrates observed the beautiful mute emerge from aninner chamber and silently take station at his master's side, followingthe papers also with wonderful, eager eyes. Only after a long interval thePrince spoke.
"Well--you bring what purports to be private memoranda of Themistocles onthe equipment and arraying of the Athenian fleet. Yet these are onlycopies."
"Copies; the originals cannot stay in my possession. It were ruin to givethem up."
The Prince turned to Hiram.
"And do you say, from what you know of these things, these memoranda aregenuine?"
"Genuine. That is the scanty wisdom of the least of your Highness'sslaves."
The Oriental bowed himself, then stood erect in a manner that remindedDemocrates of some serpent that had just coiled and uncoiled.
"Good," continued the emissary; "yet I must ask our good Athenian toconfirm them with an oath."
The orator groaned. He had not expected this last humiliation; but beingforced to drink the cup, he drained it to the lees. He swore by ZeusOrchios, Watcher of Oaths, and Dike, the Eternal Justice, that he broughttrue copies, and that if he was perjured, he called a curse upon himselfand all his line. The Cyprian received his oath with calm satisfaction,then held out the half of a silver shekel broken in the middle.
"Show this to Mydon, the Sicyonian banker at Phaleron. He holds itscounterpart. He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents."
Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon hisdignity.
"I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof haveI of this Mydon?"
The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eyekindled. His voice swelled.
"We leave oaths, Hellene, to men of trade and barter, to men of trickeryand guile. The Aryan noble is taught three things: to fear the king, tobend the bow, to speak the truth. And he learns all well. I havespoken,--my word is my oath."
The Athenian shrank at the storm he had roused.
But the Prince almostinstantly curbed himself. His voice sank again to its easy tone ofconciliation.
"So much for my word, good friend; yet better than an oath, look here. Canthe man who bears this ring afford to tell a lie?"
He extended his right hand. On the second finger was a huge beryl signet.Democrates bent over it.
"Two seated Sphynxes and a winged cherub flying above,--the seal of theroyal Achaemenians of Persia! You are sent by Xerxes himself. You are--"
The Prince raised a warning finger. "Hush, Athenian. Think what you will,but do not name me, though soon my name shall fly through all the world."
"So be it," rejoined Democrates, his hands clutching the broken coin as ata last reprieve from death. "But be warned, even though I bear you nogood-will. Themistocles is suspicious. Sicinnus his agent, a sly cat, issearching for you. The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiraeus, wasfain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you."
The Prince shrugged his shoulders.
"Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of Godand does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda andMithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellasor in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars,is good. I do not shun it."
The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates drew toward thedoor, and the others did not strive to detain him.
"As you will," spoke the Athenian; "I have warned you. Trust then yourGod. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity isa sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!"
"Until you again have need," said the Prince, not seeking to wring fromthe other any promise.
Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. Thelight in Phormio's house was out. No one seemed to be watching. On the wayhomeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that althoughthe memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans,and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedilyaltered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was thebroken shekel,--the talisman to save him from destruction. Only whenDemocrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth,while many times it returned to him, "They think it was _Glaucon_ who hasbeen twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller."
* * * * * * *
As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across therugs to the window--and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.
"Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!"
The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest "Royal Persian," suchas one might hear in the king's court. The beautiful "mute," mute nolonger, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulderwith a gracious caress.
"And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you speak them fair?"was the remark in the same musical tongue.
"Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness,covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest racebeneath Mithra's glorious light. And we Persians must play with them,master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world."
Hiram had disappeared behind a curtain. The Prince lifted her silverembroidered red cap. Over the graceful shoulders fell a mass of clear goldhair, so golden one might have hidden shining darics within it. Theshining head pressed against the Persian's breast. In this attitude, withthe loose dress parting to show the tender lines, there could be no doubtof the other's sex. The Prince laid his hand upon her neck and drew herbright face nearer.
"This is a mad adventure on which we two have come," he spoke; "how nearlyyou were betrayed at the Isthmus, when the Athenian saved you! A blunderby Hiram, an ill-turn of Fate, will ruin us yet. It is far, Rose of Eran,from Athens to the pleasant groves of Susa and the sparkling Choaspes."
"But the adventure is ending," answered she, with smiling confidence;"Mazda has guarded us. As you have said--we are in his hand, alike here andin my brother's palace. And we have seen Greece and Athens--the country andcity which you will conquer, which you will rule."
"Yes," he said, letting his eyes pass from her face to the vista of theAcropolis, which lay in fair view under the moonlight. "How noble a citythis! Xerxes has promised that I shall be satrap of Hellas, Athens shallbe my capital, and you, O best beloved, you shall be mistress of Athens."
"I shall be mistress of Athens," echoed she, "but you, husband and lord,would that men might give you a higher name than satrap, chief of theGreat King's slaves!"
"Xerxes is king," he answered her.
"My brother wears the purple cap. He sits on the throne of Cyrus the Greatand Darius the Dauntless. I would be a loyal Aryan, the king is indeed inSusa or Babylon. But for me the true king of Media and Persia--is here."And she lifted proud eyes to her husband.
"You are bold, Rose of Eran," he smiled, not angry at her implication;"more cautious words than these have brought many in peril of thebow-string. But, by Mithra the Fiend-Smiter, why were you not made a man?Then truly would your mother Atossa have given Darius an heir right worthythe twenty kingdoms!"
She gave a gentle laugh.
"The Most High ordains the best. Have I not the noblest kingdom? Am I notyour wife?"
His laugh answered her.
"Then I am greater than Xerxes. I love my empire the best!"
He leaned again from the lattice, "O, fairest of cities, and we shall winit! See how the tawny rock turns to silver beneath the moonbeams! Howclearly burn the stars over the plain and the mountain! And these Greeks,clever, wise, beautiful, when we have mastered them, have taught them ourAryan obedience and love of truth, what servants will they not become! Forwe are ordained to conquer. Mazda has given us empire without limit, fromthe Indus to the Great Ocean of the West,--all shall be ours; for we arePersians, the race to rule forever."
"We will conquer," she said dreamily, as enchanted as was he by thebeauties of the night.
"From the day Cyrus your grandfather flung down Cambyses the Mede, theHigh God has been with us. Egypt, Assyria, Babylon--have all bowed underour yoke. The Lydian at golden Sardis, the Tartar on the arid steppes, theHindoo by his sacred river, all send tribute to our king, and Hellas--" heheld out his arms confidently--"shall be the brightest star in the Persiantiara. When Darius your father lay dying, I swore to him, 'Master, fearnot; I will avenge you on Athens and on all the Greeks.' And in one briefyear, O _fravashi_, soul of the great departed, I may make good the vow. Iwill make these untamed Hellenes bow their proud necks to a king."
Her own eyes brightened, looking on him, as he spoke in pride and power.
"And yet," she could not keep back the question, "as we have moved throughthis Hellas, and seen its people, living without princes, or with princesof little power, sometimes a strange thought comes. These perverse,unobedient folk, false as they are, and ununited, have yet a strength todo great things, a strength which even we Aryans lack."
He shook his head.
"It cannot be. Mazda ordained a king to rule, the rest to obey. And allthe wits of Hellas have no strength until they learn that lesson well. ButI will teach it them."
"For some day you will be their king?" spoke the woman. He did notreprove, but stood beside her, gazing forth upon the night. In themoonlight the columns and sculptures of the great temple on the Acropolisstood out in minute tracery They could see all the caverns and jaggedledges on the massy Rock. The flat roofs of the sleeping city lay like adark and peaceful ocean. The mountains spread around in shadow-wrappedhush. Far away the dark stretch of the sea sent back a silver shimmeringin answer to the moon. A landscape only possible at Athens! The twosensitive Orientals' souls were deeply touched. For long they were silent,then the husband spoke.
"Twenty days more; we are safe in Sardis, the adventure ended. The waronly remains, and the glory, the conquest,--and thou. O Ahura-Mazda," hespoke upward to the stars, "give
to thy Persians this land. For when Thouhast given this, Thou wilt keep back nothing of all the world."
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