A Victor of Salamis Part 40

Overcome by a thousand emotions, he flung himself upon a chest and pressed the homely toy many times to his lips.

After a long interval he recovered himself enough to go down to the eunuchs, who were mis...o...b..ing his long absence.

"Persian," he said to Mardonius, when he was again at the bow-bearer's tents, "either suffer me to go back to my people right soon or put me to death. My wife has borne me a son. My place is where I can defend him."

Mardonius frowned, but nodded his head.

"You know I desire it otherwise. But my word is given. And the word of a prince of the Aryans is not to be recalled. You know what to expect among your people-perhaps a foul death for a deed of another."

"I know it. I also know that h.e.l.las needs me."

"To fight against us?" asked the bow-bearer, with a sigh. "Yet you shall go. Eran is not so weak that adding one more to her enemies will halt her triumph. To-morrow night a boat shall be ready on the strand. Take it. And after that may your G.o.ds guard you, for I can do no more."

All the next day Glaucon sat in the tents and watched the smoke cloud above the Acropolis and the soldiers in the plain hewing down the sacred olives, Athena's trees, which no Athenian might injure and thereafter live. But Glaucon was past cursing now,-endure a little longer and after that, what vengeance!

The gossiping eunuchs told readily what the king had determined. Xerxes was at Phaleron reviewing his fleet. The h.e.l.lenes' s.h.i.+ps confronted him at Salamis. The Persians had met in council, deliberating one night over their wine, reconsidering the next morning when sober. Their wisdom each time had been to force a battle. Let the king destroy the enemy at Salamis, and he could land troops at ease at the very doors of Sparta, defying the vain wall across the Isthmus. Was not victory certain? Had he not two s.h.i.+ps to the h.e.l.lenes' one? So the Phnician va.s.sal kings and all his admirals a.s.sured him. Only Artemisia, the martial queen of Halicarna.s.sus, spoke otherwise, but none would hear her.

"To-morrow the war is ended," a cup-bearer had told a butler in Glaucon's hearing, and never noticed how the Athenian took a horseshoe in his slim fingers and straightened it, whilst looking on the scorched columns of the Acropolis.

At length the sun spread his last gold of the evening. The eunuchs called Glaucon to the pavilion of Artazostra, who came forth with Roxana for their farewell. They were in royal purple. The amethysts in their hair were worth a month's revenues of Corinth. Roxana had never been lovelier.

Glaucon was again in the simple Greek dress, but he knelt and kissed the robes of both the women. Then rising he spoke to them.

"To you, O princess, my benefactress, I wish all manner of blessing. May you be crowned with happy age, may your fame surpa.s.s Semiramis, the conqueror queen of the fables, let the G.o.ds refuse only one prayer-the conquest of h.e.l.las. The rest of the world is yours, leave then to us our own."

"And you, sister of Mardonius," he turned to Roxana now, "do not think I despise your love or your beauty. That I have given you pain, is double pain to me. But I loved you only in a dream. My life is not for the rose valleys of Bactria, but for the stony hills by Athens. May Aphrodite give you another love, a brighter fortune than might ever come by linking your fate to mine."

They held out their hands. He kissed them. He saw tears on the long lashes of Roxana.

"Farewell," spoke the women, simply.

"Farewell," he answered. He turned from them. He knew they were re-entering the tent. He never saw the women again.

Mardonius accompanied him all the long way from the fount of Callirhoe to the sea-sh.o.r.e. Glaucon protested, but the bow-bearer would not hearken.

"You have saved my life, Athenian," was his answer, "when you leave me now, it is forever."

The moon was lifting above the gloomy ma.s.s of Hymettus and scattering all the Attic plain with her pale gold. The Acropolis Rock loomed high above them. Glaucon, looking upward, saw the moonlight flash on the spear point and s.h.i.+eld of a soldier,-a Barbarian standing sentry on the ruined shrine of the Virgin G.o.ddess. Once more the Alcmaeonid was leaving Athens, but with very different thoughts than on that other night when he had fled at Phormio's side. They quitted the desolate city and the sleeping camp. The last bars of day had long since dimmed in the west when before them loomed the hill of Munychia cl.u.s.tered also with tents, and beyond it the violet-black vista of the sea. A forest of masts crowded the havens, the fleet of the "Lord of the World" that was to complete his mastery with the returning sun. Mardonius did not lead Glaucon to the ports, but southward, where beyond the little point of Colias spread an open sandy beach. The night waves lapped softly. The wind had sunk to warm puffs from the southward. They heard the rattle of anchor-chains and tackle-blocks, but from far away. Beyond the vague promontory of Peiraeus rose dark mountains and headlands, at their foot lay a sprinkling of lights.

"Salamis!" cried Glaucon, pointing. "Yonder are the s.h.i.+ps of h.e.l.las."

Mardonius walked with him upon the shelving sh.o.r.e. A skiff, small but stanch, was ready with oars.

"What else will you?" asked the bow-bearer. "Gold?"

"Nothing. Yet take this." Glaucon unclasped from his waist the golden belt Xerxes had bestowed at Sardis. "A h.e.l.lene I went forth, a h.e.l.lene I return."

He made to kiss the Persian's dress, but Mardonius would not suffer it.

"Did I not desire you for my brother?" he said, and they embraced. As their arms parted, the bow-bearer spoke three words in earnest whisper:-

"Beware of Democrates."

"What do you mean?"

"I can say no more. Yet be wise. Beware of Democrates."

The attendants, faithful body-servants of Mardonius, and mute witnesses of all that pa.s.sed, were thrusting the skiff into the water. There were no long farewells. Both knew that the parting was absolute, that Glaucon might be dead on the morrow. A last clasping of the hands and quickly the boat was drifting out upon the heaving waters. Glaucon stood one moment watching the figures on the beach and pondering on Mardonius's strange warning. Then he set himself to the oars, rowing westward, skirting the Barbarian fleet as it rode at anchor, observing its numbers and array and how it was aligned for battle. After that, with more rapid stroke, he sent the skiff across the dark ribbon toward Salamis.

CHAPTER XXVI

THEMISTOCLES IS THINKING

Leonidas was taken. Themistocles was left,-left to bear as crus.h.i.+ng a load as ever weighed on man,-to fight two battles, one with the Persian, one with his own unheroic allies, and the last was the harder. Three hundred and seventy Greek triremes rode off Salamis, half from Athens, but the commander-in-chief was Eurybiades of Sparta, the sluggard state that sent only sixteen s.h.i.+ps, yet the only state the bickering Peloponnesians would obey. Hence Themistocles's sore problems.

Different from the man of unruffled brow who ruled from the bema was he who paced the state cabin of the _Nausicaa_ a few nights after the evacuation. For _he_ at least knew the morn would bring h.e.l.las her doom.

There had been a gloomy council that afternoon. They had seen the Acropolis flame two days before. The great fleet of Xerxes rode off the Attic havens. At the gathering of the Greek chiefs in Eurybiades's cabin Themistocles had spoken one word many times,-"Fight!"

To which Adeimantus, the craven admiral of Corinth, and many another had answered:-

"Delay! Back to the Isthmus! Risk nothing!"

Then at last the son of Neocles silenced them, not with arguments but threats. "Either here in the narrow straits we can fight the king or not at all. In the open seas his numbers can crush us. Either vote to fight here or we Athenians sail for Italy and leave you to stem Xerxes as you can."

There had been sullen silence after that, the admirals misliking the furrow drawn above Themistocles's eyes. Then Eurybiades had haltingly given orders for battle.

That had been the command, but as the Athenian left the Spartan flag-s.h.i.+p in his pinnace he heard Globryas, the admiral of Sicyon, muttering, "Headstrong fool-he shall not destroy us!" and saw Adeimantus turn back for a word in Eurybiades's ear. The Spartan had shaken his head, but Themistocles did not deceive himself. In the battle at morn half of the h.e.l.lenes would go to battle asking more "how escape?" than "how conquer?"

and that was no question to ask before a victory.

The cabin was empty now save for the admiral. On the deck above the hearty shouts of Ameinias the trierarch, and chanting of the seamen told that on the _Nausicaa_ at least there would be no slackness in the fight. The s.h.i.+p was being stripped for action, needless spars and sails sent ash.o.r.e, extra oars made ready, and grappling-irons placed. "Battle" was what every Athenian prayed for, but amongst the allies Themistocles knew it was otherwise. The crucial hour of his life found him nervous, moody, silent.

He repelled the zealous subalterns who came for orders.

"My directions have been given. Execute them. Has Aristeides come yet?"

The last question was to Simonides, who had been half-companion, half-counsellor, in all these days of storm.

"He is not yet come from aegina."

"Leave me, then."

Themistocles's frown deepened. The others went out.

The state cabin was elegant, considering its place. Themistocles had furnished it according to his luxurious taste,-stanchions cased in bronze hammered work, heavy rugs from Carthage, lamps swinging from chains of precious Corinthian bra.s.s. Behind a tripod stood an image of Aphrodite of Fair Counsel, the admiral's favourite deity. By force of habit now he crossed the cabin, took the golden box, and shook a few grains of frankincense upon the tripod.