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Updated: May 25, 2025
The Cyprian advanced to meet his visitor, smiling blandly. “Welcome, dear Athenian. We have awaited you. We are ready to heal your calamity.” Democrates turned away his face. “You know it already! O Zeus, I am the most miserable man in all Hellas!”
“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.
Almost half of his decked vessels, 24 sail, were sunk or taken; 6000 Macedonian sailors and 3000 soldiers perished, amongst whom was the admiral Democrates; 2000 were taken prisoners. The victory cost the allies no more than 800 men and six vessels.
The other day Themistocles, in the boat at Peiræus, was fain to have you questioned. If detected, I cannot save you.” The Prince shrugged his shoulders. “Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas or in safe Ecbatana.
In a tent at the lower end of the long stadium stood Glaucon awaiting the final summons to his ordeal. His friends had just cried farewell for the last time: Cimon had kissed him; Themistocles had gripped his hand; Democrates had called “Zeus prosper you!” Simonides had vowed that he was already hunting for the metres of a triumphal ode.
He knew—though Themistocles had said not a word—that his superior was beginning to distrust his efforts, and that Sicinnus was working independently. Democrates had great respect for the acuteness of that Asiatic. He was coming perilously near the truth already. If the Cyprian and Hiram were arrested, the latter at least would surely try to save his life by betraying their nocturnal visitor.
He need not even kill Glaucon. He would have no blood guiltiness, he need not dread Alecto and her sister Furies. He could trust Hiram and Hasdrubal to see to it that Glaucon never returned to plague him. And Hermione? Democrates laughed again. He was almost frightened at his own glee.
Democrates accompanied them as far as the dark marge, and watched while the boat glided out into the gloom of the haven. The orator paced homeward alone. Everything had favoured him. He had even cleared himself of the curse of the Furies and the pursuit of Nemesis. He had, he congratulated himself, shown marvellous qualities of mercy. Glaucon lived?
Nothing but cheese and porridge till after the victory to-morrow; but then, by Castor, I’ll enjoy ‘the gentleman’s disease’—a jolly drunkenness.” “Then you are sure of victory to-morrow?” “Good Democrates, what god has tricked you into believing your fine Athenian has a chance?” “I have seven minæ staked on Glaucon.” “Seven staked in the presence of your friends; how many in their absence?”
As they went down the steep, Cimon and Democrates came running to join them, and in the brisk chatter that arose the omen of the cloud and fears of the Persian faded from Hermione’s mind.
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