THEMISTOCLES GIVES A PROMISE
After the _Nausicaa_ had returned that night to Salamis, after the old men and the women had laughed and wept over the living,-they were too proud to weep over the dead,-after the prudent admirals had set the fleet again in order, for Xerxes might tempt fate again in the morning with his remaining ships, Themistocles found himself once more in his cabin. With him was only Glaucon the Alcmaeonid. The admiral"s words were few and pointed.
"Son of Conon, last night you gave me the thought whereby I could save h.e.l.las. To-day your javelin saved me from death. I owe you much. I will repay in true coin. To-morrow I can give you back to your wife and all your friends if you will but suffer me."
The younger man flushed a little, but his eyes did not brighten. He felt Themistocles"s reservation.
"On what terms?"
"You shall be presented to the Athenians as one who, yielding for a moment to overmastering temptation, has atoned for one error by rendering infinite service."
"Then I am to be "Glaucon the Traitor" still, even if "Glaucon the Repentant Traitor"?"
"Your words are hard, son of Conon; what may I say? Have you any new explanation for the letter to Argos?"
"The old one-I did not write it."
"Let us not bandy useless arguments. Do you not see I shall be doing all that is possible?"
"Let me think a little."
The younger Athenian held down his head, and Themistocles saw his brows knitting.
"Son of Neocles," said Glaucon, at length, "I thank you. You are a just man. Whatever of sorrow has or will be mine, you have no part therein, but I cannot return-not to Hermione and my child-on any terms you name."
"Your purpose, then?"
"To-day the G.o.ds show mercy to h.e.l.las, later they may show justice to me.
The war is far from ended. Can you not let me serve on some ship of the allies where none can recognize me? Thus let me wait a year, and trust that in that year the sphinx will find her riddle answered."
"To wait thus long is hard," spoke the other, kindly.
"I have done many hard things, Themistocles."
"And your wife?"
"Hera pity her! She bade me return when Athens knew me innocent. Better that she wait a little longer, though in sorrow, when I can return to her even as she bade me. Nevertheless, promise one thing."
"Name it."
"That if her parents are about to give her to Democrates or any other, you will prevent."
Themistocles"s face lightened. He laid a friendly hand on the young man"s shoulder.
"I do not know how to answer your cry of innocency, _philotate_, but this I know, in all h.e.l.las I think none is fairer in body or soul than you.
Have no fear for Hermione, and in the year to come may Revealer Apollo make all of your dark things bright."
Glaucon bowed his head. Themistocles had given everything the outlaw could ask, and the latter went out of the cabin.
BOOK III
THE Pa.s.sING OF THE PERSIAN
CHAPTER x.x.xI
DEMOCRATES SURRENDERS
h.e.l.las was saved. But whether forever or only for a year the G.o.ds kept hid. Panic-stricken, the "Lord of the World" had fled to Asia after the great disaster. The eunuchs, the harem women, the soft-handed pages, had escaped with their master to luxurious Sardis, the remnant of the fleet fled back across the aegean. But the brain and right arm of the Persians, Mardonius the Valiant, remained in h.e.l.las. With him were still the Median infantry, the Tartar horse-archers, the matchless Persian lancers,-the backbone of the undefeated army. h.e.l.las was not yet safe.
Democrates had prospered. He had been reelected strategus. If Themistocles no longer trusted him quite so freely as once, Aristeides, restored now to much of his former power, gave him full confidence. Democrates found constant and honourable employment through the winter in the endless negotiations at Sparta, at Corinth, and elsewhere, while the jealous Greek states wrangled and intrigued, more to humiliate some rival than to advance the safety of h.e.l.las. But amongst all the patriot chiefs none seemed more devoted to the common weal of h.e.l.las than the Athenian orator.
Hermippus at least was convinced of this. The Eleusinian had settled at Trzene on the Argive coast, a hospitable city that received many an outcast Athenian. He found his daughter"s resistance to another marriage increasingly unreasonable. Was not Glaucon dead for more than a year?
Ought not any woman to bless Hera who gave her so n.o.ble, so eloquent, a husband as Democrates-pious, rich, trusted by the greatest, and with the best of worldly prospects?
"If you truly desire any other worthy man, _makaira_," said Hermippus, once, "you shall not find me obstinate. Can a loving father say more? But if you are simply resolved never to marry, I will give you to him despite your will. A senseless whim must not blast your highest happiness."
"He ruined Glaucon," said Hermione, tearfully.
"At least," returned Lysistra, who like many good women could say exceeding cruel things, "_he_ has never been a traitor to his country."
Hermione"s answer was to fly to her chamber, and to weep-as many a time before-over Phnix in the cradle. Here old Cleopis found her, took her in her arms, and sang her the old song about Alphaeus chasing Arethusa-a song more fit for Phnix than his mother, but most comforting. So the contest for the moment pa.s.sed, but after a conference with Hermippus, Democrates went away on public business to Corinth unusually well pleased with the world and himself.
It was a tedious, jangling conference held at the Isthmus city. Mardonius had tempted the Athenians sorely. In the spring had come his envoys proffering reparation for all injuries in the wars, enlarged territory, and not slavery, but free alliance with the Great King, if they would but join against their fellow-h.e.l.lenes. The Athenians had met the tempter as became Athenians. Aristeides had given the envoys the answer of the whole people.
"We know your power. Yet tell it to Mardonius, that so long as Helios moves in the heavens we will not make alliance with Xerxes, but rather trust to the G.o.ds whose temples he has burned."
Bravely said, but when the Athenians looked to Sparta for the great army to hasten north and give Mardonius his death-stroke, it was the old wearisome tale of excuses and delay. At the conference in Corinth Aristeides and Democrates had pa.s.sed from arguments to all but threats, even such as Themistocles had used at Salamis. It was after one of these fruitless debates that Democrates pa.s.sed out of the gathering at the Corinthian prytaneum, with his colleagues all breathing forth their wrath against Dorian stupidity and evasiveness.
Democrates himself crossed the city Agora, seeking the house of the friendly merchant where he was to sup. He walked briskly, his thoughts more perhaps on the waiting betrothal feast at Trzene, than on the discussion behind him. The Agora scene had little to interest, the same buyers, booths, and babel as in Athens, only the citadel above was the mount of Acro-Corinthus, not the tawny rock of Athena. And in late months he had begun to find his old fears and terrors flee away. Every day he was growing more certain that his former "missteps"-that was his own name for certain occurrences-could have no malign influence. "After all," he was reflecting, "Nemesis is a very capricious G.o.ddess. Often she forgets for a lifetime, and after death-who knows what is beyond the Styx?"
He was on such n.o.ble terms with all about him that he could even give ear to the whine of a beggar. The man was sitting on the steps between the pillars of a colonnade, with a tame crow perched upon his fist, and as Democrates pa.s.sed he began his doggerel prayer:-
"Good master, a handful of barley bestow On the child of Apollo, the sage, sable crow."
The Athenian began to fumble in his belt for an obol, when he was rudely distracted by a twitch upon his chiton. Turning, he was little pleased to come face to face with no less a giant than Lycon.
"There was an hour, _philotate_," spoke the Spartan, with ill-concealed sneer, "when you did not have so much silver to scatter out to beggars."