"And you I deemed more than comrade, for we were boys at school together, were flogged with the same rod, and drank from the same cup, had like friends, foes, loves, hates; and have lived since as more than brothers,-do you too turn utterly away?"

"I would it were otherwise," came the sullen answer. Again Democrates pointed to the sword, but Glaucon stood up proudly.

"No. I am neither traitor, nor perjurer, nor coward. If I must perish, it shall be as becomes an Alcmaeonid. If you have resolved to undo me, I know your power over Athenian juries. I must die. But I shall die with unspotted heart, calling the curse of the innocent upon the G.o.d or man who plotted to destroy me."

"We have enough of this direful comedy," declared Democrates, pale himself. "Only one thing is left. Call in the Scythians with their gyves, and hale the traitor to prison."

He approached the door; the others stood as icy statues, but not Hermione.

She had her back against the door before the orator could open.

"Hold," she commanded, "for you are doing murder!"

Democrates halted at the menacing light in her eyes. All the fear had gone out of them. Athena Promachos, "Mistress of Battles," must have stood in that awful beauty when aroused. Did the G.o.ddess teach her in that dread moment of her power over the will of the orator? Glaucon was still standing motionless, helpless, his last appeal having ended in mute resignation to inevitable fate. She motioned to him desperately.

"Glaucon! Glaucon!" she adjured, "do not throw your life away. They shall not murder you. Up! Rouse yourself! There is yet time. Fly, or all is lost."

"Fly!" spoke the athlete, almost vacantly. "No, I will brave them to the end."

"For my sake, fly," she ordered, and conjured by that potent talisman, Glaucon moved toward her.

"How? Whither?"

"To the ends of the earth, Scythia, Atlantis, India, and remain till all Athens knows you are innocent."

As men move who know not what they do, he approached the door. Held by the magic of her eyes the others stood rigid. They saw Hermione raise the latch. Her husband's face met hers in one kiss. The door opened, closed.

Glaucon was gone, and as the latch clicked Democrates shook off the charm and leaped forward.

"After the traitor! Not too late!-"

For an instant he wrestled with Hermione hand to hand, but she was strong through fear and love. He could not master her. Then a heavy grasp fell on his shoulder-Cimon's.

"You are beside yourself, Democrates. My memory is longer than yours. To me Glaucon is still a friend. I'll not see him dragged to death before my eyes. When we follow even a fox or a wolf, we give fair start and fair play. You shall not pursue him yet."

"Blessing on you!" cried the wife, falling on her knees and seizing Cimon's cloak. "Oh, make Themistocles and my father merciful!"

Hermippus-tender-hearted man-was in tears. Themistocles was pacing the little chamber, his hand tugging his beard, clearly in grievous doubt.

"The Scythians! The constables!" Democrates clamoured frantically; "every instant gives the traitor better start."

But Cimon held him fast, and Themistocles was not to be interrupted. Only after a long time he spoke, and then with authority which brooked no contradiction.

"There is no hole in the net of Democrates's evidence that Glaucon is guilty of foul disloyalty, disloyalty worthy of shameful death. Were he any other there would be only one way with him and that a short one. But Glaucon I know, if I know any man. The charges even if proved are nigh incredible. For of all the thousands in h.e.l.las his soul seemed the purest, n.o.blest, most ingenuous. Therefore I will not hasten on his death. I will give the G.o.ds a chance to save him. Let Democrates arraign me for 'misprision of treason' if he will, and of failing in duty to Athens.

There shall be no pursuit of Glaucon until morning. Then let the Eleven(7) issue their hue and cry. If they take him, let the law deal with him. Till then give respite."

Democrates attempted remonstrance. Themistocles bade him be silent sharply, and the other bowed his head in cowed acquiescence. Hermione staggered from the door, her father unbarred, and the whole wretched company went forth. In the pa.s.sage hung a burnished steel mirror; Hermione gave a cry as she pa.s.sed it. The light borne by Hermippus showed her in her festival dress, the rippling white drapery, the crown of white violets.

"My father!" she cried, falling into his arms, "is it still the day of the Panathenaea, when I marched in the great procession, when all Athens called me happy? It was a thousand years ago! I can never be glad again-"

He lifted her tenderly as she fainted. Old Cleopis, the Spartan nurse who had kissed her almost before her mother, ran to her. They carried her to bed, and Athena in mercy hid her from consciousness that night and all the following day.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DISLOYALTY OF PHORMIO

On the evening of the Panathenaea, Bias, servant of Democrates, had supped with Phormio,-for in democratic Athens a humble citizen would not disdain to entertain even a slave. The Thracian had a merry wit and a story-teller's gift that more than paid for the supper of barley-porridge and salt mackerel, and after the viands had disappeared was ready even to tell tales against his master.

"I've turned my brain inside out, and shaken it like a meal sack. No wisdom comes. The _kyrios_ has something on his mind. He prays to Hermes Dolios as often as if he were a cut-purse. Then yesterday he sent me for Agis-"

"Agis?" Phormio p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. "The gambling-house keeper? What does Democrates with _him_?"

"Answer yourself. My master has been to Agis's pretty place before to see his c.o.c.ks. However, this is different. To-day I met Theon."

"Who's he?"

"Agis's slave, the merriest scoundrel in Athens. Agis, he says, has been prancing like an a.s.s stuffed with barley. He gave Theon a letter from Democrates to take to your Babylonian opposite; Theon must hunt up Seuthes, a Corinthian, and worm out of him when and how he was leaving Athens. Agis promised Theon a gold stater if all was right."

Phormio whistled. "You mean the carpet-dealer here? By Athena's owls, there is no light in his window to-night!"

"None, indeed," crackled Lampaxo; "didn't I see that cursed Babylonian with his servants gliding out just as Bias entered? Zeus knows whither! I hope ere dawn Democrates has them by the heels."

"Democrates does something to-night," a.s.serted Bias, extending his cup for wine. "At noon Agis flew up to him, chattered something in his ear, whereupon Democrates bade me be off and not approach him till to-morrow, otherwise a cane gets broken on my shoulders."

"It's not painful to have a holiday," laughed Phormio.

"It's most painful to be curious yet unsatisfied."

"But why did not you take the letter to the Babylonian?" observed Phormio, shrewdly.

"I'm perplexed, indeed. Only one thing is possible."

"And that is-"

"Theon is not known in this street. I am. Perhaps the _kyrios_ didn't care to have it rumoured he had dealings with that Babylonian."

"Silence, undutiful scoundrel," ordered Lampaxo, from her corner; "what has so n.o.ble a patriot as Democrates to conceal? Ugh! Be off with you!

Phormio, don't dare to fill up the tipsy fox's beaker again. I want to pull on my nightcap and go to bed."

Bias did not take the hint. Phormio was considering whether it was best to join combat with his redoubtable spouse, or save his courage for a more important battle, when a slight noise from the street made all listen.

"Pest light on those bands of young roisterers!" fumed Lampaxo. "They go around all night, beating on doors and vexing honest folk. Why don't the constables trot them all to jail?"

"This isn't a drunken band, good wife," remarked Phormio, rising; "some one is sitting on the stones by the Hermes, near the door, groaning as if in pain."

"A drunkard? Let him lie then," commanded Lampaxo; "let the coat-thieves come and filch his chiton."