A Victor of Salamis

by William Stearns Davis

  CHAPTER XXXII

  THE STRANGER IN TROEZENE

  Despite exile, life had moved pleasantly for Hermippus's household thatspring. The Troezenians had surpassed all duties to Zeus Xenios--thestranger's god--in entertaining the outcast Athenians. The fugitives hadreceived two obols per day to keep them in figs and porridge. Theirchildren had been suffered to roam and plunder the orchards. But Hermippushad not needed such generosity. He had placed several talents at interestin Corinth; likewise bonds of "guest-friendship" with prominent Troezeniansmade his residence very agreeable. He had hired a comfortable house, andcould enjoy even luxury with his wife, daughter, young sons, and score ofslaves.

  Little Phoenix grew marvellously day by day, as if obeying his mother'scommand to wax strong and avenge his father. Old Cleopis vowed he was thehealthiest, least tearful babe, as well as the handsomest, she had everknown,--and she spoke from wide experience. When he was one year old, hewas so active they had to tie him in the cradle. When the golden springdays came, he would ride forth upon his nurse's back, surveying the Hellashe was born to inherit, and seeming to find it exceeding good.

  But as spring verged on summer, Hermione demanded so much of Cleopis'scare that even Phoenix ceased to be the focus of attention. The lordlyAlcmaeonid fell into the custody of one Niobe, a dark-haired lass of theislands, who treated him well, but cared too much for certain young"serving-gentlemen" to waste on her charge any unreciprocated adoration.So on one day, just as the dying grass told the full reign of the SunKing, she went forth with her precious bundle wriggling in her arms, buther thoughts hardly on Master Phoenix. Procles the steward had been cold oflate, he had even cast sly glances at Jocasta, Lysistra's tiring-woman.Mistress Niobe was ready--since fair means of recalling the fickle Apollofailed--to resort to foul. Instead, therefore, of going to the promenadeover the sea, she went--burden and all--to the Agora, where she was sure oldDion, who kept a soothsayer's shop, would give due assistance in returnfor half a drachma.

  The market was just thinning. Niobe picked her way amongst the vegetablewomen, fought off a boy who thrust on her a pair of geese, and found in aquiet corner by a temple porch the booth of Dion, who grinned with histoothless gums in way of greeting. He listened with paternal interest toher story, soothed her when she sniffled at Procles's name, and made hershow her silver, then began pulling over his bags and vials of strangepowders and liquids.

  "Ah, kind Master Dion," began Niobe, for the sixth time, "if only somephiltre could make Procles loath that abominable Jocasta!"

  "_Eu! eu!_" muttered the old sinner, "it's hard to say what's best,--powderof toad's bone or the mixture of wormwood and adder's fat. The safestthing is to consult the god--"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why, my holy cock here, hatched at Delphi with Apollo's blessings onhim." Dion pointed with his thumb to the small coop at his feet. "Theoracle is simple. You cast before him two piles of corn; if he picks atthe one to right we take toad's bone, to left the adder's fat. Heaven willspeak to us."

  "Excellent," cried Niobe, brightening.

  "But, of course, we must use only consecrated corn, that's two obolsmore."

  Niobe's face fell. "I've only this half-drachma."

  "Then, _philotata_," said Dion, kindly but firmly, "we had better wait alittle longer."

  Niobe wept. "_Ai!_ woe. 'A little longer' and Jocasta has Procles. I can'task Hermione again for money. _Ai! ai!_"

  Two round tears did not move Dion in the slightest. Niobe was sobbing, ather small wits' end, when a voice sounded behind her.

  "What's there wrong, lass? By Zeus, but you carry a handsome child!"

  Niobe glanced, and instantly stopped weeping. A young man dressed roughlyas a sailor, and with long black hair and beard, had approached her, butdespite dress and beard she was quite aware he was far handsomer than evenProcles.

  "I beg pardon, _kyrie_,"--she said "_kyrie_" by instinct,--"I'm only anhonest maid. Dion is terribly extortionate." She cast down her eyes,expecting instant succour from the susceptible seaman, but to her disgustshe saw he was admiring only the babe, not herself.

  "Ah! Gods and goddesses, what a beautiful child! A girl?"

  "A boy," answered Niobe, almost sullenly.

  "Blessed the house in Troezene then that can boast of such a son."

  "Oh, he's not Troezenian, but one of the exiles from Athens," volunteeredDion, who kept all the tittle-tattle of the little city in stock alongwith his philtres.

  "An Athenian! Praised be Athena Polias, then. I am from Athens myself. Andhis father?"

  "The brat will never boast of his father," quoth Dion, rolling his eyes."He left the world in a way, I wager five minae, the mother hopes she canhide from her darling, but the babe's of right good stock, an Alcmaeonid,and the grandfather is that Hermippus--"

  "Hermippus?" The stranger seemed to catch the word out of Dion's mouth. Adonkey had broken loose at the upper end of the Agora; he turned andstared at it and its pursuers intently.

  "If you're Athenian," went on the soothsayer, "the story's an old one--ofGlaucon the Traitor."

  The stranger turned back again. For a moment Dion saw he was blinking, butno doubt it was dust. Then he suddenly began to fumble in his girdle.

  "What do you want, girl?" he demanded of Niobe, nigh fiercely.

  "Two obols."

  "Take two drachmae. I was once a friend to that Glaucon, and traitor thoughhe has been blazed, his child is yet dear to me. Let me take him."

  Without waiting her answer he thrust the coin into her hands, and caughtthe child out of them. Phoenix looked up into the strange, bearded face,and deliberated an instant whether to crow or to weep. Then some friendlygod decided him. He laughed as sweetly, as musically, as ever one can athis most august age. With both chubby hands he plucked at the black beardand held tight. The strange sailor answered laugh with laugh, and releasedhimself right gayly. Then whilst Niobe and Dion watched and wondered theysaw the sailor kiss the child full fifty times, all the time whisperingsoft words in his ear, at which Phoenix crowed and laughed yet more.

  "An old family servant," threw out Dion, in a whisper.

  "Sheep!" retorted the nurse, "do you call yourself wise? Do you think aman with that face and those long hands ever felt the stocks or the whip?He's gentleman born, by Demeter!"

  "War makes many changes," rejoined Dion. "_Ai!_ is he beside himself or akidnapper? He is walking off with the babe."

  The stranger indeed had seemed to forget them all and was going with swiftstrides up the Agora, but just before Niobe could begin her outcry hewheeled, 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 theswaddling clothes on him now. They say he will be a mighty athlete likehis father."

  "Ah, yes--his father--" The sailor looked down.

  "You knew Master Glaucon well?" pressed Dion, itching for a new bit ofgossip.

  "Well," answered the sailor, standing gazing on the child as thoughsomething held him fascinated, then shot another question. "And does thebabe's lady-mother prosper?"

  "She is passing well in body, _kyrie_, but grievously ill in mind. Heragive her a release from all her sorrow!"

  "Sorrow?" The man's eyes were opening wider, wider. "What mean you?"

  "Why, all Troezene knows it, I'm sure."

  "I'm not from Troezene. My ship 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 asfast as I can. Master Democrates has come back from Corinth. Hermippus isresolved to make the _kyria_ wed him, however bitterly she resists. It'staken a long time for her father to determine to break her will, but nowhis mind's made u
p. The betrothal is in three days, the wedding ten daysthereafter."

  The sailor had dropped her hand. She shrank at the pallor of his face. Heseemed 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 morecoherent.

  "Give me the child," he commanded, and Niobe mutely obeyed. He kissedPhoenix on both cheeks, mouth, forehead. They saw that tears were runningdown his bronzed face. He handed back the babe and again held out money,--acoin for both the slave girl and the soothsayer,--gold half-darics, thatthey gaped at wonderingly.

  "Say nothing!" ordered the sailor, "nothing of what I have said or done,or as Helios shines 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; theywould have believed it all a dream, but lo! in their hands gleamed themoney.

  "There are times," remarked the soothsayer, dubiously at last, "when Ibegin to think the gods again walk the earth and work wonders. This is avery high matter. Even I with my art dare not meddle with it. It is bestto heed the injunction to silence. Wagging tongues always have troubles astheir children. Now let us proceed with my sacred cock and hisdivination."

  Niobe got her philtre,--though whether it reconquered Procles is notcontained in this history. Likewise, she heeded Dion's injunction. Therewas something uncanny about the strange sailor; she hid away thehalf-daric, and related nothing of her adventure even to her confidantCleopis.

  * * * * * * *

  Three days later Democrates was not drinking wine at his betrothal feast,but sending this cipher letter by a swift and trusty "distance-runner" toSparta.

  "Democrates to Lycon, greeting:--At Corinth I cursed you. Rejoicetherefore; you are my only hope. I am with you whether your path leads toOlympus or to Hades. Tartarus is opened at my feet. You must save me. Mywords are confused, do you think? Then hear this, and ask if I have notcause for turning mad.

  "Yesterday, even as Hermippus hung garlands on his house, and summoned theguests to witness the betrothal contract, Themistocles returned suddenlyfrom Euboea. He called Hermippus and myself aside. '_Glaucon lives_,' hesaid, 'and with the god's help we'll prove his innocence.' Hermippus atonce broke off the betrothal. No one else knows aught thereof, not evenHermione. Themistocles refuses all further details. 'Glaucon lives,'--I canthink of nothing else. Where is he? What does he? How soon will the awfultruth go flying through Hellas? I trembled when I heard he was dead. Butname my terrors now I know he is alive! Send Hiram. He, if any snakeliving, can find me my enemy before it is too late. And speed the victoryof Mardonius! _Chaire._"

  "Glaucon lives." Democrates had only written one least part of histerrors. Two words--but enough to make the orator the most miserable man inHellas, the most supple of Xerxes's hundred million slaves.