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His frown darkened. Then he attempted to read. “Glaucon of Athens to Cleophas of Argos wishes health:— “Cleophas leads the Medizers of Argos, the greatest friend of Xerxes in Greece. O Zeus, what is this next— “Our dear friend, whom I dare not name, to-day departs for Thebes, and in a month will be safe in Sardis. His visit to Athens has been most fruitful.
“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.
Nothing—except a miracle sent from Zeus.” “Such as what?” “As merciful Hiram’s relenting and releasing your dear Glaucon.” Lycon’s chuckle was loud. “Never, as you hope me to be anything save your mortal enemy, mention that name again.” “As you like it—it’s no very pretty tale, I grant, even amongst Medizers. Yet it was most imprudent to let him live.”
The mention of one of the foremost Medizers of Greece made the subaltern bend in his saddle. His tone became even obsequious. “Ah, I understand. Your Excellency is a courier. You have despatches from the king?” “Despatches of moment just landed from Asia. Now tell me where the army is encamped.” “By the Asopus, much to northward. The Hellenes lie to south.
Behold—” Themistocles held one papyrus after another in the torch-flame,—“here is crumbling to ashes the evidence that would destroy them all as Medizers. Mardonius is dead. Let the war die with him. Hellas is safe.” “Blessings, blessings! Help me to escape. You have a sword. Pry off these gyves. How easy for you to let me fly!” “Wait!” The admiral’s peremptory voice silenced the prisoner.
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