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Updated: May 25, 2025
Yonder rides Themistocles now to take command.” The statesman cantered past on a shining white Thessalian. At his heels were prancing Cimon, Democrates, Glaucon, and many another youth of the noble houses of Athens.
Hib had the cord around his arms before he wakened. He could scarcely struggle despite his power. The fishmonger awoke before Hasdrubal could nip him. For a moment we feared his outcries would rouse the street. But again the gods blessed us. No one stirred, and we soon throttled him.” “Take the light,” ordered Democrates. “Come.”
Hermione passed, nor ever knew how, by taking this way from the house of a friend, she coloured the skein of life for three mortals—for herself, her husband, and Democrates. Democrates followed her with his eyes until she vanished around the fountain at the street corner; then sprang back from the window. The workings of his face were terrible.
Hermione had borne a son. “The fairest babe she had ever seen,” cried the midwife. “Phœnix,” the mother called him, “for in him shall Glaucon the Beautiful live again.” Democrates sent a runner every day to Eleusis to inquire for Hermione until all danger was passed.
A key made the door open into a cupboard, out of which Democrates drew a brass-bound box of no great size, which he carried gingerly to a table and opened with a complex key. The contents of the box were curious, to a stranger enigmatic.
Of the fate of the old-time friends—Democrates, Cimon, Hermione—he tried not to think. No doubt Hermione was the wife of Democrates. More than a year had sped since the flight from Colonus. Hermione had put off her mourning for the yellow veil of a bride. Glaucon prayed the war might bring her no new sorrow, though Democrates, of course, would resist Persia to the end.
At dawn you will find the Athenians and Spartans alone near their old camping ground, their allies straggling in the rear. Attack boldly. When the onset joins, Democrates and I will order our own divisions to retire. The phalanxes will be broken up. With your cavalry you will have them at mercy, for once the spear-hedge is shattered, they are lost. The battle will not cost you twenty men.”
It is stated in the invective which Antiphon wrote against Alcibiades, that once, when he was a boy, he ran away to the house of Democrates, one of those who made a favorite of him, and that Ariphron had determined to cause proclamation to be made for him, had not Pericles diverted him from it, by saying, that if he were dead, the proclaiming of him could only cause it to be discovered one day sooner, and if he were safe, it would be a reproach to him as long as he lived.
It flew from its scabbard as he leaped on the sailor. The stranger put forth his hand, snatched his opponent’s wrist, and with lightning dexterity sent the blade spinning back upon the grass. Then he threw Democrates a second time, and the latter did not rise again hastily, but lay cursing. The fall had not been gentle. But all this while Cleopis was screaming.
Hiram almost lost his never failing smile, so much he marvelled. “But, your Lordship, the man is a giant, mighty as Melkarth. Seizing will be hard. Sheol is the safest prison.” “No.” Democrates was still shaking. “His ghost came to me a thousand times, though yet he lived. It would hound me mad if I murdered him.” “You would not murder him.
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