CHAPTER XXXVI
THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
A hard chase. The rowers of the penteconter were well winded before theycaught the _Bozra_. A merchantman making for Asia was, however, undoubtedprize; the luckless crew could be sold in the Agora, the cargo of oil,fish, and pottery was likewise of value. Cimon was standing on his poop,listening to the report of his _proreus_.
"We're all a mina richer for the race, captain, and they've some jars oftheir good Numidian wine in the forecastle."
But here a seaman interrupted, staring blankly.
"_Kyrie_, here's a strange prize. Five men lie dead on the deck. Theplanks are bloody. In the cabin are two men and a woman. All three seemmad. They are Greeks. They keep us out, and bawl, 'The navarch! show usthe navarch, or Hellas is lost.' And one of them--as true as that I suckedmy mother's milk--is Phormio--"
"Phormio the fishmonger,"--Cimon dropped his steering oar,--"on aCarthaginian ship? You're mad yourself, man."
"See with your own eyes, captain. They'll yield to none save you. Theprisoners are howling that one of these men is a giant."
For the active son of Miltiades to leap from bulwark to bulwark took aninstant. Only when he showed himself did the three in the cabin scrambleup the ladder, covered with blood, the red lines of the fetters markedinto wrist and ankle. Lampaxo had thrown her dress over her head and wasscreaming still, despite assurances. The third Hellene's face was hidunder a tangle of hair. But Cimon knew the fishmonger. Many a morning hadhe haggled with him merrily for a fine mackerel or tunny, and the navarchrecoiled in horror at his fellow-citizen's plight.
"Infernal gods! You a prisoner here? Where is this cursed vessel from?"
"From Troezene," gasped the refugee; "if you love Athens and Hellas--"
He turned just in time to fling an arm about Hiram, who--carelesslyguarded--was gliding down the hatchway.
"Seize that viper, bind, torture; he knows all. Make him tell or Hellas islost!"
"Control yourself, friend," adjured Cimon, sorely perplexed, while Hiramstruggled and began tugging out a crooked knife, before two brawny seamennipped him fast and disarmed.
"Ah! you carrion meat," shouted Phormio, shaking his fists under thehelpless creature's nose. "Honest men have their day at last. There's agay hour coming before Zeus claps the lid over you in Tartarus."
"Peace," commanded the navarch, who betwixt Phormio's shouts, Lampaxo'showls, and Hiram's moans was at his wit's end. "Has no one on this shipkept aboard his senses?"
"If you will be so good, sir captain," the third Hellene at last broke hissilence, "you will hearken to me."
"Who are you?"
"The _proreus_ of the _Alcyone_ of Melos. More of myself hereafter. But ifyou love the weal of Hellas, demand of this Hiram where he concealed thetreasonable despatches he received at Troezene and now has aboard."
"Hiram? O Lord Apollo, I recognize the snake! The one that was alwaysgliding around Lycon at the Isthmus. If despatches he has, I know the wayto get them. Now, black-hearted Cyclops,"--Cimon's tone was notgentle,--"where are your papers?"
Hiram had turned gray as a corpse, but his white teeth came together.
"Phormio is mistaken. Your slave has none."
"Bah!" threw out Cimon, "I can smell your lies like garlic. Silent still?Good, see how I am better than Asclepius. I make the dumb talk by amiracle. A cord and belaying-pin, Naon."
The seaman addressed passed a cord about the Phoenician's forehead with afearful dexterity, and put the iron pin at the back of the skull.
"Twist!" commanded Cimon. Two mariners gripped the victim's arms. Naonpressed the cord tighter, tighter. A beastlike groan came through the lipsof the Phoenician. His beady eyes started from his head, but he did notspeak.
"Again," thundered the navarch, and as the cord stretched a howl of mortalagony escaped the prisoner.
"Pity! Mercy! My head bursts. I will tell!"
"Tell quick, or we'll squeeze your brains out. Relax a little, Naon."
"In the boat mast." Hiram spit the words out one by one. "In the cabin.There is a peg. Pull it out. The mast is hollowed. You will find thepapers. Woe! woe! cursed the day I was born. Cursed my mother for bearingme."
The miserable creature fell to the deck, pressing his hands to his templesand moaning in agony. No one heeded him now. Cimon himself ran below tothe mast, and wrenched the peg from its socket. Papyrus sheets were there,rolled compactly, covered with writing and sealed. The navarch turned overthe packet curiously, then to the amazement of the sailors seemed tostagger against the mast. He was as pale as Hiram. He thrust the packetinto the hands of his _proreus_, who stood near.
"What make you of this seal? As you fear Athena, tell the truth."
"You need not adjure me so, captain. The device is simple: Theseus slayingthe Minotaur."
"And who, in Zeus's name, do you know in Athens who uses a seal likethat?"
Silence for a moment, then the _proreus_ himself was pale.
"Your Excellency does not mean--"
"Democrates!" cried the trembling navarch.
"And why not Democrates?" The words came from the released prisoner, whohad been so silent, but who had glided down and stood at Cimon's elbow. Hespoke in a changed voice now; again the navarch was startled.
"Is Themistocles on the _Nausicaae_?" asked the stranger, whilst Cimongazed on him spellbound, asking if he himself were growing mad.
"Yes--but your voice, your face, your manner--my head is dizzy."
The stranger touched him gently on the hand.
"Have I so changed, you quite forget me, Cimon?"
The son of Miltiades was a strong man. He had looked on Hiram's tortureswith a laugh. To his own death he would have gone with no eyelashtrembling. But now the rest saw him blench; then with a cry, at once ofwonder and inexpressible joy, his arms closed round the tattered outlaw'sneck. Treason or no treason--what matter! He forgot all save that beforehim was his long-time comrade.
"My friend! My boyhood's friend!" and so for many times they kissed.
The _Nausicaae_ had followed the chase at easy distance, ready with aid incase the _Bozra_ resisted. Themistocles was in his cabin with Simonides,when Cimon and Glaucon came to him. The admiral heard his young navarch'sreport, then took the unopened packet and requested Cimon and the poet towithdraw. As their feet sounded on the ladder in the companionway,Themistocles turned on the outlaw, it seemed, fiercely.
"Tell your story."
Glaucon told it: the encounter on the hillside at Troezene, the seizure inPhormio's house, the coming of Democrates and his boasts over thecaptives, the voyage and the pursuing. The son of Neocles never hastenedthe recital, though once or twice he widened it by an incisive question.At the end he demanded:--
"And does Phormio confirm all this?"
"All. Question him."
"Humph! He's a truthful man in everything save the price of fish. Now letus open the packet."
Themistocles was exceeding deliberate. He drew his dagger and pried thewrapper open without breaking the seals or tearing the papyrus. He turnedthe strips of paper carefully one by one, opened a casket, and drew thencea written sheet which he compared painfully with those before him.
"The same hand," his remark in undertone.
He was so calm that a stranger would have thought him engaged with routinebusiness. Many of the sheets he simply lifted, glanced at, laid downagain. They did not seem to interest. So through half the roll, but theoutlaw, watching patiently, at last saw he eyebrows of the son of Neoclespressing ever closer,--sign that the inscrutable brain was at its fatefulwork.
At last he uttered one word, "Cipher."
A sheet lay before him covered with broken words and phrases--seeminglywithout meaning--but the admiral knew the secret of the Spartan _scytale_,the "cipher wood." Forth from his casket came a number of rounded sticksof varying lengths. On one after another he wound the sheet spirally untilat the fifth trial th
e scattered words came together. He read with ease.Then Themistocles's brows grew closer than before. He muttered softly inhis beard. But still he said nothing aloud. He read the cipher sheetthrough once, twice; it seemed thrice. Other sheets he fingereddelicately, as though he feared the touch of venom. All without haste, butat the end, when Themistocles arose from his seat, the outlaw trembled.Many things he had seen, but never a face so changed. The admiral wasneither flushed nor pale. But ten years seemed added to those lines abovehis eyes. His cheeks were hollowed. Was it fancy that put the gray intohis beard and hair? Slowly he rose; slowly he ordered the marine on guardoutside the cabin to summon Simonides, Cimon, and all the officers of theflag-ship. They trooped hither and filled the narrow cabin--fifteen or morehale, handsome Athenians, intent on the orders of the admiral. Were theyto dash at once for Samos and surprise the Persian? Or what otheradventure waited? The breeze had died. The gray breast of the AEgean rockedthe _Nausicaae_ softly. The thranites of the upper oar bank were alone onthe benches, and stroking the great trireme along to a singsong chantabout Amphitrite and the Tritons. On the poop above two sailors weregrumbling lest the penteconter's people get all the booty of the _Bozra_.Glaucon heard their grunts and complainings whilst he looked onThemistocles's awful face.
The officers ranged themselves and saluted stiffly. Themistocles stoodbefore them, his hands closed over the packet. The first time he startedto speak his lips closed desperately. The silence grew awkward. Then theadmiral gave his head a toss, and drew his form together as a runnerbefore a race.
"Democrates is a traitor. Unless Athena shows us mercy, Hellas is lost."
"Democrates is a traitor!"
The cry from the startled men rang through the ship. The rowers ceasedtheir chant and their stroking. Themistocles beckoned angrily for silence.
"I did not call you down to wail and groan." He never raised his voice;his calmness made him terrible. But now the questions broke loose as aflood.
"When? How? Declare."
"Peace, men of Athens; you conquered the Persian at Salamis, conquer nowyourselves. Harken to this cipher. Then to our task and prove our comradesdid not die in vain."
Yet despite him men wept on one another's shoulders as became trueHellenes, whilst Themistocles, whose inexorable face never relaxed,rewound the papyrus on the cipher stick and read in hard voice the wordsof doom.
"This is the letter secreted on the Carthaginian. The hand isDemocrates's, the seals are his. Give ear.
"Democrates the Athenian to Tigranes, commander of the hosts of Xerxes onthe coasts of Asia, greeting:--Understand, dear Persian, that Lycon and Ias well as the other friends of the king among the Hellenes are preparedto bring all things to pass in a way right pleasing to your master. Evennow I depart from Troezene to join the army of the allied Hellenes inBoeotia, and, the gods helping, we cannot fail. Lycon and I will contriveto separate the Athenians and Spartans from their other allies, to forcethem to give battle, and at the crisis cause the divisions under ourpersonal commands to retire, breaking the phalanx and making Mardonius'svictory certain.
"For your part, excellent Tigranes, you must avoid the Hellenic ships atDelos and come back to Mardonius with your fleet ready to second him atonce after his victory, which will be speedy; then with your aid he canreadily turn the wall at the Isthmus. I send also letters written, as itwere, in the hand of Themistocles. See that they fall into the hands ofthe other Greek admirals. They will breed more hurt amongst the Hellenesthan you can accomplish with all your ships. I send, likewise, lists ofsuch Athenians and Spartans as are friendly to his Majesty, also memorandaof such secret plans of the Greeks as have come to my knowledge.
"From Troezene, given into the hands of Hiram on the second ofMetageitnion, in the archonship of Xanthippus. _Chaire!_"
Themistocles ceased. No man spoke a word. It was as if a god had flung abolt from heaven. What use to cry against it? Then, in an ominously lowvoice, Simonides asked a question.
"What are these letters which purport to come from your pen,Themistocles?"
The admiral unrolled another papyrus, and as he looked thereon his fineface contracted with loathing.
"Let another read. I am made to pour contempt and ridicule upon myfellow-captains. I am made to boast 'when the war ends, I will be tyrantof Athens.' A thousand follies and wickednesses are put in my mouth. Werethis letter true, I were the vilest wretch escaping Orcus. Since forged--"his hands clinched--"by that man, that man whom I have trusted, loved,cherished, called 'younger brother,' 'oldest son'--" He spat in rising furyand was still.
" 'Fain would I grip his liver in my teeth,' " cried the little poet, evenin storm and stress not forgetting his Homer. And the howl from theman-of-war's men was as the howl of beasts desiring their prey. But theadmiral's burst of anger ended. He stood again an image of calm power. Thevoice that had charmed the thousands rang forth in its strength andsweetness.
"Men of Athens, this is no hour for windy rage. Else I should rage themost, for who is more wronged than I? One whom we loved is fallen--laterlet us weep for him. One whom we trusted is false--later punish him. Butnow the work is neither to weep nor to punish, but to save Hellas. A greatbattle impends in Boeotia. Except the Zeus of our sires and Athena of thePure Eyes be with us, we are men without home, without fatherland.Pausanias and Aristeides must be warned. The _Nausicaae_ is the'Salaminia,'--the swiftest trireme in the fleet. Ours must be the deed, andours the glory. Enough of this--the men must hear, and then to the oars."
Themistocles had changed from despair to a triumph note. There was uplifteven to look upon him. He strode before all his lieutenants up and outupon the poop. The long tiers of benches and the gangways filled withrowers peered up at him. They had seen their officers gather in the cabin,and Dame Rumour, subtlest of Zeus's messengers, had breathed"ill-tidings." Now the admiral stood forth, and in few words told all theheavy tale. Again a great shout, whilst the bronzed men groaned on thebenches.
"Democrates is a traitor!"
A deity had fallen from their Olympus; the darling of the Athenians'sdemocracy was sunk to vilest of the vile. But the admiral knew how to playon their two hundred hearts better than Orpheus upon his lyre. Again thenote changed from despair to incitement, and when at last he called, "Andcan we cross the AEgean as never trireme crossed and pluck back Hellas fromher fate?" thalamite, zygite, and thranite rose, tossing their brawny armsinto the air.
"_We can!_"
Then Themistocles folded his own arms and smiled. He felt the god wasstill with him.
* * * * * * *
Yet, eager as was the will, they could not race forth instantly. Ordersmust be written to Xanthippus, the Athenian vice-admiral far away, biddinghim at all hazards to keep the Persian fleet near Samos. Cimon was long inprivy council with Themistocles in the state cabin. At the same time aprisoner was passed aboard the _Nausicaae_, not gently bound,--Hiram, aprecious witness, before the dogs had their final meal on him. But therest of the _Bozra's_ people found a quicker release. The penteconter'speople decided their fate with a yell.
"Sell such harpies for slaves? The money would stink through our pouches!"
So two by two, tied neck to neck and heel to heel, the wretches were flungoverboard, "because we lack place and wood to crucify you," called the_Nausicaae's_ governor, as he pushed the last pair off into the leadensea,--for the day was distant when the destruction of such Barbarian rogueswould weigh even on tender consciences.
So the Carthaginians ceased from troubling, but before the penteconter andthe _Bozra_ bore away to join the remaining fleet, another deed was donein sight of all three ships. For whilst Themistocles was with Cimon,Simonides and Sicinnus had taken Glaucon to the _Nausicaae's_ forecastle.Now as the penteconter was casting off, again he came to view, and theshout that greeted him was not of fear this time, but wonder and delight.The Alcmaeonid was clean-shaven, his hair clipped close, the black dye evenin a manner washed away. He had flung off the rough seaman's dr
ess, andstood forth in all his godlike beauty.
Before all men Cimon, coming from the cabin, ran and kissed him once more,whilst the rowers clapped their hands.
"Apollo--it is Delian Apollo! Glaucon the Beautiful lives again. _Io! Io!paean!_"
"Yes," spoke Themistocles, in a burst of gladness. "The gods take onefriend, they restore another. OEdipus has read the sphinx's riddle. Honourthis man, for he is worthy of honour through Hellas!"
The officers ran to the athlete, after them the sailors. They covered hisface and hands with kisses. He seemed escaped the Carthaginian to perishin the embrace of his countrymen. Never was his blush more boyish, moredivine. Then a bugle-blast sent every man to his station. Cimon leapedacross to his smaller ship. The rowers of the _Nausicaae_ ran out theiroars, the hundred and seventy blades trailed in the water. Every man tooka long breath and fixed his eyes on the admiral standing on the poop. Heheld a golden goblet set with turquoise, and filled with the blood-redPramnian wine. Loudly Themistocles prayed.
"Zeus of Olympus and Dodona, Zeus Orchios, rewarder of the oath-breaker,to whom the Hellenes do not vainly pray, and thou Athena of the Pure Eyes,give ear. Make our ship swift, our arms strong, our hearts bold. Hold backthe battle that we come not too late. Grant that we confound the guilty,put to flight the Barbarian, recompense the traitor. So to you and allother holy gods whose love is for the righteous we will proffer prayer andsacrifice forever. Amen."
He poured out the crimson liquor; far into the sea he flung the goldencup.
"Heaven speed you!" shouted from the penteconter. Themistocles nodded. The_keleustes_ smote his gavel upon the sounding-board. The triple oar bankrose as one and plunged into the foam. A long "h-a!" went up from thebenches. The race to save Hellas was begun.
A Victor of Salamis Page 39
