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But a violent screech came from Lampaxo, who had just comprehended the fate awaiting. “Ai! ai! save me, fellow-Hellenes!” she bawled toward the penteconter, “a citizeness of Athens, the most patriotic woman in the city, slaughtered by Barbarians—” “Silence the squealing sow!” roared Hasdrubal. “They’ll hear her on the war-ship. Aft with her and overboard at once.”
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-Hellenes. The Athenians had met the tempter as became Athenians.
Hold!” roared Leonidas, and the moment the throng saw what newcomers they faced, Athenian and Spartan let their arms drop and stood sheepish and silent. Themistocles instantly stepped forward and held up his hand. His voice, trumpet-clear, rang out among the pines. In three sentences he dissolved the tumult. “Fellow-Hellenes, do not let Dame Discord make sport of you. I saw all that befell.
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