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The admiral made an impatient gesture, commanding “Begin,” and the fugitive poured out his tale. All the voyage from Phaleron he had been nerving himself for this ordeal; his composure did not desert now. He related lucidly, briefly, how the fates had dealt with him since he fled Colonus. Only when he told of his abiding with Leonidas Themistocles’s gaze grew sharper. “Tell that again. Be careful.
“There is no such collection in all Hellas,—no, not in the world,” ran his commentary; “here is the signet of the Tagos of Thessaly, here of the Bœotarch of Thebes, here of the King of Argos. I was able to secure the seal of Leonidas while in Corinth. This, of course, is Themistocles’s,—how easily I took it! And this—of less value perhaps to a man of the world—is of my beloved Glaucon.
A moment more and a few drifting spars, a few bobbing heads, were all that was left of the Phœnician. The Ægean had swallowed her. A shout was pealing from the ships of the Hellenes. “Zeus is with us! Athena is with us!” At the outset of the battle, when advantage tells the most, advantage had been won. Themistocles’s deed had fused all the Greeks with hopeful courage. Eurybiades was charging.
And at Themistocles’s motion they voted to recall all the political exiles, especially Themistocles’s own great enemy Aristeides the Just, banished by the son of Neocles only a few years before. The assembly dispersed—not weeping but with cheers. Already it was time to be quitting the city. Couriers told how the Tartar horsemen were burning the villages beyond Parnes.
I was afraid.” “Right.” Themistocles’s lip was curling. “You are more coward than knave or traitor. Phobos, Black Fear, has been your leading god, not Hermes. And now—” “But you have promised I shall escape.” “You shall.” “To-night? What is that you have?” Themistocles was opening the casket. “The papers seized in your chest. They implicate many noble Hellenes in Corinth, Sicyon, Sparta.
“To examine everything strange,” proclaimed Democrates, sententiously, “needs the life of a crow, who, they say, lives a thousand years, but I don’t see any black wings budding on Themistocles’s shoulders. Pull onward, Glaucon.” “Whither?” demanded the rower. “To Salamis,” ordered Themistocles. “Let us see the battle-place foretold by the oracle.”
“Is all but nothing, except as he comes to Athens, for Medizers will shelter him everywhere. Yet there is one spot—blessed be Athena—” Themistocles’s hands went up in easy piety—“where, let him come if come he dare!” Then with a swift change, as was his wont, the statesman looked straight on Democrates. “Hark you, son of Myscelus; those Persian lords are reckless.
Now could be seen Ariamenes, the high admiral himself, a giant warrior in his purple and gilded armour, going up and down the poop, cursing, praying, threatening,—all in vain. The Nausicaä’s people rose and cheered madly. “Enough! They have enough! Glory to Athens!” But here Ameinias gripped Themistocles’s arm. The chief turned, and all the Hellenes with him. The cheer died on their lips.
If you will aid me to escape—” “I will aid you.” “Blessings, blessings, but quick! I fear to be stoned to death by the soldiers in the morning. They threaten to crucify—” “They shall not.” “Blessings, blessings,—can I escape to-night?” “Yes,” but Themistocles’s tone made the prisoner’s blood run chill. He cowered helplessly.
The admiral’s words were few and pointed. “Son of Conon, last night you gave me the thought whereby I could save Hellas. To-day your javelin saved me from death. I owe you much. I will repay in true coin. To-morrow I can give you back to your wife and all your friends if you will but suffer me.” The younger man flushed a little, but his eyes did not brighten. He felt Themistocles’s reservation.
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