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The Spartan's face brightened visibly, and Croesus, attracted by this serious, earnest man, asked his name. "My name is Aristomachus." "That name seems known to me." "You were acquainted with many Hellenes, and my name is common among them." "Your dialect would bespeak you my opinion a Spartan." "I was one once." "And now no more?"
At the door of his tent he found his slaves disputing with a ragged, dirty and unshaven old man, who insisted on speaking with their master. Fancying he must be a beggar, Phanes threw him a piece of gold; the old man did not even stoop to pick it up, but, holding the Athenian fast by his cloak, cried, "I am Aristomachus the Spartan!"
"You will find him here; and besides, I cannot but hope that the songs will cheer you, and dispel your gloomy thoughts." Aristomachus shook his head in denial, and answered: "To you, sanguine Athenians, the melodies of your country may be cheering: but not so to me; as in many a sleepless night of dreams, my longings will be doubled, not stilled by the songs of Alkman."
But Aratus, still bent on effecting his old project, and impatient that tyranny should maintain itself in so near a city as Argos, sent to Aristomachus to persuade him to restore liberty to that city, and to associate it to the Achaeans, and that, following Lydiades's example, he should rather choose to be the general of a great nation, with esteem and honor, than the tyrant of one city, with continual hatred and danger.
The mines lay in the plain of Koptos, not far from the Red Sea. Traces of them have been discovered in modern times. "My companions," continued Aristomachus, "were either condemned murderers to whom mercy had been granted, or men guilty of high treason whose tongues had been cut out, and others such as myself whom the king had reason to fear.
If I were to draw the arrow from your wound, you would die at once." The Spartan thanked him, said farewell to Phanes, sent a greeting to Rhodopis, and then, before they could prevent him, drew the arrow from his wound with an unflinching hand. A few moments later Aristomachus was dead. The same day a Persian embassy set out for Memphis on board one of the Lesbian vessels.
With an ironical smile Psamtik sat watching this scene the pleased faces of Amasis, Croesus and Gyges, the meaning glances of the Egyptians, and the contented looks with which Aristomachus gazed on the young heroes.
"Whatever the intentions of the envoys may be," continued Kallias, "my information remains unaltered; they will be here at the latest in three days." "And so your oracle will be fulfilled, fortunate Aristomachus!" exclaimed Rhodopis, "for see, the warrior hosts can only be the Persians.
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