CHAPTER XXXV
MOLOCH BETRAYS THE PHOENICIAN
Even whilst the boat pulled out to the trader, Hiram suggested that sincehis superior's "unfortunate scruples" forbade them to shed blood, at leastthey could disable the most dangerous captive by putting out his eyes. ButHasdrubal, thrifty Semite, would not hearken.
"Is not the fellow worth five hundred shekels in the Carthage market?--butwho will give two for a blind dog?"
And once at the ship the prisoners were stowed in the hold so securelythat even Hiram ceased to concern himself. In the morning some of theneighbours indeed wondered at Phormio's closed door and the silence of thejangling voice of Lampaxo; but the fishmonger was after all an exile, andmight have returned suddenly to Attica, now the Persians had retreatedagain to Boeotia, and before these surmises could change to misdoubting,the _Bozra_ was bearing forth into the AEgean.
The business of Hasdrubal with the _Bozra_ at Troezene appeared simple. Thewar had disturbed the Greek harvests. He had come accordingly with a cargoof African corn, and was taking a light return lading of olive oil andsalt fish. But those who walked along the harbour front remarked that the_Bozra_ was hardly a common merchantman. She was a "sea-mouse," long,shallow, and very fast under sail; she also carried again an unwontedlyheavy crew. When Hasdrubal's cargo seemed completed, he lingered a coupleof days, alleging he was repairing a cable; then the third morning afterhis nocturnal adventure a cipher letter to Democrates sent theCarthaginian to sea. The letter went thus:--
"Lycon, in the camp of the Greeks in Boeotia, to Democrates in Troezene,greeting:--The armies have now faced many days. The soothsayers declarethat the aggressor is sure to be defeated, still there has been someskirmishing in which your Athenians slew Masistes, Mardonius's chief ofcavalry. This, however, is no great loss to us. Your presence withAristeides is now urgently needed. Send Hasdrubal and Hiram at once toAsia with the papers we arranged in Corinth. Come yourself with speed tothe army. Ten days and this merry dice-throwing is ended. _Chaire!_"
Democrates immediately after this gave Hiram a small packet of papyrussheets rolled very tight, with the ominous injunction to "concealcarefully, weight it with lead, and fling it overboard if there is dangerof capture." At which Hiram bowed more elegantly than usual and answered,"Fear not; it shall be guarded as the priests guard the ark of Moloch, andwhen next your slave comes, it is to salute my Lord as the sovran ofAthens."
Hiram smiled fulsomely and departed. An hour later the _Bozra_ ran out onthe light wind around the point of Calauria and into the sparkling sea toeastward. Democrates stood gazing after her until she was a dark speck onthe horizon.
The speck at last vanished. The strategus walked homeward. Glaucon wasgone. The fateful packet binding Democrates irrevocably to the Persiancause was gone. He could not turn back. At the gray of morning with a fewservants he quitted Troezene, and hastened to join Aristeides and Pausaniasin Boeotia.
* * * * * * *
In the hold of the _Bozra_, where Hasdrubal had stowed his unwillingpassengers, there crept just enough sunlight to make darkness visible. Thegags had been removed from the prisoners, suffering them to eat, whereuponLampaxo had raised a truly prodigious outcry which must needs be silencedby a vigorous anointing with Hasdrubal's whip of bullock's hide. Herhusband and Glaucon disdained to join a clamour which could never escapethe dreary cavern of the hold, and which only drew the hoots of theirunmagnanimous guardians. The Carthaginians had not misinterpretedGlaucon's silence, however. They knew well they had a Titan in custody,and did not even unlash his hands. His feet and Phormio's were tiedbetween two beams in lieu of stocks. The giant Hib took it upon himself tofeed them bean porridge with a wooden spoon, making the dainty sweeterwith tales of the parching heats of Africa and the life of a slave underLibyan task-masters.
So one day, another, and another, while the _Bozra_ rocked at anchor, andthe prisoners knew that liberty lay two short cable lengths away, yetmight have been in Atlantis for all it profited them. Phormio neverreviled his wife as the author of their calamity, and Lampaxo, with nighchildish earnestness, would protest that surely Democrates knew not whatthe sailors did when they bound her.
"So noble a patriot! An evil god bewitched him into letting these harpiestake us. Woe! woe! What misfortune!"
To which plaint the others only smiled horribly and ground their teeth.
Phormio as well as Glaucon had heard the avowal of Democrates on the nightof the seizure. There was no longer any doubt of the answer to the greatriddle. But disheartening, benumbing beyond all personal anguish was thedread for Hellas. The sacrifice at Thermopylae vain. The glory of Salamisvain. Hellas and Athens enslaved. The will of Xerxes and Mardoniusaccomplished not because of their valour, but because of their enemies'infamy.
"O gods, if indeed there be gods!" Glaucon was greatly doubting that atlast; "if ye have any power, if justice, truth, and honour weigh againstiniquity, put that power forth, or never claim the prayers and sacrificeof men again."
Glaucon was past dreading for himself. He prayed that Hermione might bespared a long life of tears, and that Artemis might slay her quickly byher silent arrows. To follow his thoughts in all their dark mazes wereprofitless. Suffice it that the night which had brooded over his soul fromthe hour he fled from Colonus was never so dark as now. He was toodespairing even to curse.
The last hope fled when they heard the rattling of the cables weighinganchor. Soon the soft slap of the water around the bow and the regularheaving motion told that the _Bozra_ was under way. The sea-mouse creakedand groaned through all her timbers and her lading. The foul bilge-watermade the hold stifling as a charnel-house. Lampaxo, Hib being absent,began to howl and moan.
"O Queen Hera! O Queen Hera, I die for a breath of air--I, the mostpatriotic woman in Athens!"
"Silence, goodwife," muttered Phormio, twisting desperately on the filthystraw under him. "Have I not enough to fret about without the addition ofyour pipings?" And he muttered underbreath the old saw of Hesiod:--
"He who doth a woman trust, Doth trust a den of thieves."
"Silence below there, you squealing sow," ordered Hib, from the hatchway."Must I tan your hide again?"
Lampaxo subsided. Phormio tugged vainly at his feet in the stocks. Glauconsaid nothing. A terrible hope had come to him. If he could not speedilydie, at least he would soon go mad, and that would rescue him from hismost terrible enemy--himself.
* * * * * * *
The _Bozra_, it has been said, headed not south but eastward. Hasdrubal'scommission was to fetch Samos, where the still formidable fleet of theBarbarian lay, and to put the precious packet from Democrates in the handsof Tigranes, Xerxes's commander-in-chief on the coast of Asia Minor. Butalthough speed had been enjoined, the voyage did not go prosperously. OffBelbina the wind deserted them altogether, and Hasdrubal had beencompelled to force his craft along by sweeps,--ponderous oars, worked bythree men,--but his progress at best was slow. Off Cythnos the breeze hadagain arisen, but it was the Eurus from the southeast, worse than useless;the _Bozra_ had been obliged to ride at anchor off the island for twodays. Then another calm; and at last, "because," said Hasdrubal piously,"he had vowed two black lambs to the Wind God," the breeze came clear andcool from the north, which, if not wholly favourable, enabled themerchantman to plough onward. It was the fifth day, finally, afterquitting Troezene, that the headlands of Naxos came in sight at dawn, andthe master began to take comfort. The fleet of the Greeks--a fisherboat hadtold him--was swinging inactive at Delos well to the north and westward,and he could fairly consider himself in waters dominated by the king.
"A fortunate voyage," the master was boasting to Hiram, as he sat atbreakfast in the stern-cabin above a platter of boiled dolphin; "twotalents from the Persians for acting as their messenger; a thousanddrachmae profit on the corn; a hundred from Master Democrates in return forour little service, not to mentio
n the profit on the return cargo, andlast but not least the three slaves."
"Yes, the three slaves. I had almost forgotten about them."
"You see, my dear Hiram," quoth the master, betwixt two unwontedly hugemouthfuls, "you see what folly it was of you to suggest putting out thathandsome fellow's eyes. I am strongly thinking of selling him not toCarthage, but to Babylon. I know a trader at Ephesus who makes a specialtyof handsome youths. The satrap Artabozares has commissioned him to find asmany good-looking out-runners as possible. Also for his harem--if thisGlaucon were only a eunuch--"
Hiram, breaking a large disk of bread, was smiling very suggestivelybefore making reply, when a sailor shouted at the hatch:--
"Ships, master! Ships with oars!"
"In what quarter?" Hasdrubal sprang up, letting the dishes clatter.
"From Myconus. They come up fast. Hib at the masthead counts eleventriremes."
"Baal preserve us!" The master at once clambered on deck. "The Greek fleetmay be quitting Delos. We must pray for wind."
It was a gray, hazy day after a dozen bright ones. The northerly breezeseemed falling. The water spread out a sombre lead colour. The heights ofNaxos were in sight to starboard, but none too clearly. Much moreinteresting to Hasdrubal was the line of dots spreading on the horizon tonorthwest. Despite the distance his keen eyes could catch the rise andfall of the oar banks--war-ships, not traders. Hib was right, andHasdrubal's face grew longer. No triremes save the Greeks could be bearingthither, and a merchantman, even from nominally neutral Carthage, caughtheaded for the king's coasts in those days of blazing war was nothing ifnot fair prize. The master's decision was prompt.
"They are far off. Put the ship before the wind."
The sea-mouse was fleet indeed for a trader, but unlike a trireme mustcount on her canvas for her speed. With a piping breeze she could mockpursuit. In a calm she was fearfully handicapped. However, for a momentHasdrubal congratulated himself he could slip away unnoticed. The distancewas very great. Then his dark lips cursed.
"Moloch consume me! If I see aright, we are chased."
Two vessels, in fact, seemed turning away from the rest. They were headingstraight after the _Bozra_. A long race it would be, but with the gale solight the chances were against the sea-mouse. Hasdrubal had no need tourge his crew to rig out the oars and tug furiously, if they wished toescape a Greek prison and a slave market.
The whole crew, forty black-visaged, black-eyed creatures, were soon busyover the dozen great sweeps in a frantic attempt to force the _Bozra_beyond danger. Panting, yelling, blaspheming, for a while they seemedholding their own, but the master watched with sinking heart the waningbreeze. At the end of an hour their pursuers could be distinguished,--atall trireme behind, but closer, pulling more rapidly, a penteconter, aslim scouting galley working fifty oars in a single bank.
Hasdrubal began to shout desperately: "Wind, Baal, wind! Fill the sails,and seven he-goats await thy altar in Carthage!"
Either the god found the bribe too small or lacked the power to accept it.The breeze did not stiffen. The sailors strove like demons at the sweeps,but almost imperceptibly the gap betwixt them and the war-ships wasnarrowing.
Hiram, who had been rowing, now left his post to approach the master.
"What of the captives? Crucifixion waits us all if they are found on theship and tell their story. Kill them at once and fling the bodiesoverboard."
Hasdrubal shook his head.
"Not yet. Still a good chance. I'll not cast five hundred bright shekelsto the fish till harder pressed. The breeze may strengthen." Then heredoubled his shout. "Wind, Baal, wind!"
But a little later the gap betwixt the sea-mouse and the penteconter hadso dwindled that even the master's inborn thrift began to yield toprudence.
"Hark you, Hib," he cried from the helm. "Take Adherbal and Lars theEtruscan. It's a good ten furlongs to that cursed galley still, but wemust have those prisoners ready on deck. Over they go if the chase gets abit closer."
The giant Libyan hastened to comply, while all the crew joined in thecaptain's howl, "Wind, Baal, wind!" and cried reckless vows, while theyscanned the fateful stretch of gray-green water behind the stern, whereonliberty if not life depended.
The trireme, pulling only one of her banks, was dropping behind, hernavarch leaving the tiring chase to the penteconter, but the latter hungon doggedly.
"Curse those war-ships with their long oars and heavy crews," growled Hib,reappearing above the hatch with the prisoners. "The penteconter's onlynine furlongs off."
He had been obliged to release the captives from the stocks, but Hib hadtaken the precaution to place on the formidable athlete a pair of legirons joined by a shackle. Not merely were Glaucon's arms pinioned by astout cord, but the great Libyan was gripping them tightly. Lars andAdherbal conducted the other prisoners, whose feet, however, were notbound. For a moment the three captives stood blinking at the unfamiliarlight, unconscious of the situation and their extremity, whilst Hasdrubalfor the fortieth time measured the distance. The wind had strengthened alittle. Let it strengthen a trifle more and the _Bozra_ would hold herown. Still her people were nearly spent with their toiling, and the keenbeak and large complement of the man-of-war made resistance madness if sheonce came alongside.
"Have ready sand-bags," ordered Hasdrubal, "to tie to these wretches'feet. Set them by the boat mast, so the sail can hide our pretty deed fromthe penteconter. Have ready an axe. We'll bide a little longer, though,before we say 'farewell' to our passengers. The gods may help yet."
Hib and his fellows were marching the prisoners to the poop, when thesight of the war-ship told Phormio all the story. No gag now hindered histongue.
"Oh, dragons from Carthage, are you going to murder us?" he began in tonesmore indignant than terrified.
"No, save as Heaven enjoins it!" quoth the master, clapping his hands tourge on the rowing stroke. "Pray, then, your AEolus, Hellene, to stiffenthe breeze."
"Pray, then, to Pluto, whelps," bawled the undaunted fishmonger, "to giveyou a snug berth in Orcus. Ha! but it's a merry thought of you and allyour pretty lads stretched on crosses and waiting for the crows."
But a violent screech came from Lampaxo, who had just comprehended thefate awaiting.
"_Ai! ai!_ save me, fellow-Hellenes!" she bawled toward the penteconter,"a citizeness of Athens, the most patriotic woman in the city, slaughteredby Barbarians--"
"Silence the squealing sow!" roared Hasdrubal. "They'll hear her on thewar-ship. Aft with her and overboard at once."
But as they dragged Lampaxo on the poop, her outcry rose to a tempest tillLars the Etruscan clapped his hand upon her mouth. Her screaming stilled,but his own outcry more than replaced it. In a twinkling the virago's hardteeth closed over his fingers. Two ran from the oars to him. But thewoman, conscious that she fought for life or death, held fast. Curses,blows, even a dagger pried betwixt her lips--all bootless. She seemed as athing possessed. And all the time the Etruscan howled in mortal agony.
The thin dagger, bent too hard, snapped betwixt her teeth. Lars's clamourcould surely be heard on the penteconter. Again the breeze was falling.
They seized the fury's throat, and pressed it till she turned black, butthe grip of her jaw only tightened.
"_Attatai! attatai!_" groaned the victim, "forbear. Don't throttle her.Her teeth are iron. They are biting through the bone. If you strangle her,they will never relax. _Attatai! attatai!_"
"Nip him tight, little wife," called Phormio, for once regarding hisspouse with supreme satisfaction. "It's a dainty morsel you have in yourmouth. Chew it well!"
Lampaxo's attackers paused an instant, uncertain how to release theEtruscan. To their threats of torture the woman was deaf as the mainmast,and still the Etruscan screamed.
Glaucon had stood perfectly passive during all this grim by-play. OncePhormio saw his fellow-captive's face twist into a smile, but in theexcitement of the moment the fishmonger as well as the Carthaginiansalmost forgot the Isthmionic
es, and Hib relaxed his grip and guard. Lars'sfinger was streaming red, when Hasdrubal threw away the steering-paddle ina rage.
"Silence her forever! The axe, Hib. Split her skull open!"
The axe lay at the Libyan's feet. One instant, only one, betook his handsfrom the athlete's wrists to seize the weapon, but in that instant theyell from all the crew drowned even the howls of Lars. Had any watched,they might have seen all the muscles in the Alcmaeonid's glorious bodycontract, might have seen the fire spring from his eyes as he put forth agodlike might. Heracles and Athena Polias had been with him when he threwhis strength upon the bands that held his arms. The crushing of Lycon downhad been no feat like this. In a twinkling the cords about his wrists weresnapped. He swung his free hands in the air.
"Athens!" he shouted, whilst the crew stood spellbound. "Hermione! Glauconis still Glaucon!"
Hib had grasped the axe, but he never knew what smote him once behind theear and sent him rolling lifeless against the bulwark. In an instant hisbright weapon was swinging high above the athlete's head. Glaucon stoodterrible as Achilles before the cowering Trojans.
"Woe! woe! he is Melkarth. We are lost men!" groaned the crew.
"At him, fools!" bawled Hasdrubal, first to recover wits, "his feet arestill shackled."
But whilst the master called to them, the axe dashed down upon thefetters, and one great stroke smote the coupling-link in twain. TheAthenian stood a moment looking right and left, the axe dancing as a toyin his grasp, and a smile on his face inviting, "Prove me."
A javelin singing from the hand of Adherbal flew at him. An imperceptiblebending of the body, a red streak on Glaucon's naked side, and it dug intothe deck. Yet whilst it quivered, was out again and hurled through theCarthaginian's breast and shoulders. He fell in a heap beside the Libyan.
Another howl from the sailors.
"Not Melkarth, but Baal the Dragon-Slayer. We are lost. Who can contendwith him?"
"Cowards!" thundered Hasdrubal, whipping the sword from his thigh, "do younot know these three sniff our true business? If they live when thepenteconter comes, it's not prison but Sheol that's waiting. Their livesor ours. One rush and we have this madman down!"
But their terrible adversary gave the master no time to gather hismyrmidons. One stroke of the axe had already released Phormio, whoclutched the arms of his wife.
"The cabin!" the ready-witted fishmonger commanded, and Lampaxo, scarceknowing what she did, released her ungentle hold on Lars and suffered herhusband to drag her down the ladder. Glaucon went last; no man lovingdeath enough to come within reach of the axe. Hasdrubal saw his victimsescaping under his eyes and groaned.
"There is only one hatchway. We must force it. Darts, belaying-pins,ballast stones--fling anything down. It's for life or death!"
"The penteconter is four furlongs away!" shrieked a sailor, growing grayunder his dark skin.
"And Democrates's despatches are hid in the cabin," added Hiram,chattering. "If they do not go overboard, our deaths will be terrible."
"Hear, King Moloch!" called Hasdrubal, lifting his swarthy arms to heaven,then striking them with his sword till the blood gushed down, "suffer usto escape this calamity and I vow thee even my daughter Tibait,--a child inher tenth year,--she shall die in thy holy furnace a sacrifice."
"Hear, Baal! Hear, Moloch!" chorussed the crew; and gathering courage fromnecessity seized boat-hooks, oars, dirks, and all other handy weapons fortheir attack.
But below the released prisoners had not been idle. Never--Glaucon knewit--had his brain been clearer, his invention more fertile than now, andPhormio was not too old to cease to be a valiant helper. The cabin wassmall. A few spears and swords stood in the rack about the mast. Theathlete bolted the sliding hatch-cover, and tore down the weapons.
"Release your wife," he ordered Phormio; "yonder sea chest is strong. Dragit over to bar the hatch-ladder. Work as Titans if you hope for anothersun."
"_Ai, ai, ai!_" screeched Lampaxo, who had released Lars's fingers only toresume her din, "we all perish. They are hewing the hatch-cover with theiraxes. Hera preserve us! The wood splinters. We die."
"We have no time to die," called the athlete, "but only to save Hellas."
A dozen blows beat the frail hatch-cover to splinters. A dark face withgrinning teeth showed itself. A heavy ballast stone grazed the athlete'sshoulder, but the intruder fell back with a gurgling in his throat, hishands clutching the empty air. Glaucon had sent a heavy spear cleanthrough him.
More ballast stones, but the Titanic Alcmaeonid had torn a mattress from abunk, and held it as effective shield. By main force the others draggedthe chest across to the hatchway, making the entrance doubly narrow.Vainly Hasdrubal stormed at his men to rush down boldly. They barely daredto fling stones and darts, so fast their adversary sped them back, and tothe mark.
"A god! a god! We fight against Heaven!" bleated the seamen.
Their groans were answered by the screechings of Lampaxo through theport-hole and the taunts of Phormio.
"Sing, sing, pretty Pisinoe, sweetest of the sirens," tossed thefishmonger, playing his part at Glaucon's side; "lure that dearpenteconter a little nearer. And you, brave, gentle sirs, don't try 'toflay a skinned dog' by thrusting down here. Your hands are just itchingfor the nails, I warrant!"
Hasdrubal redoubled his vows to Moloch. In place of his daughter hesubstituted his son, though the lad was fourteen years old and the darlingof his parents. But the god was not tempted even now. The attack on thecabin had called the sailors from the oars. The penteconter consequentlyhad gained fast upon them. The trireme behind was manning her other banksand drawing down apace. Hiram cast a hopeless glance toward her.
"I know those 'eyes'--those red hawse-holes--the _Nausicaae_. Come what may,Themistocles must not read the packet in the cabin. There is one chance."
He approached the splintered hatchway and outstretched hishands--weaponless.
"Ah, good and gracious Master Glaucon, and your honest friends, your godsof Hellas are very great and have delivered us, your poor slaves, intoyour hands. Your friends approach. We will resist no longer. Come on deck;and when the ship is taken, entreat the navarch to be merciful andgenerous."
"Bah!" spat Phormio, "you write your promises in water, or better in oil,black-scaled viper. We know what time of day it is with us, and what foryou."
Hiram saw Glaucon's hand rise with a javelin, and shrank shivering.
"They won't hearken. All's lost," he whimpered, his smile becomingghastly.
"Another rush, men!" pleaded Hasdrubal.
"Lead the charge yourself, master!" retorted the seamen, sullenly.
The captain, swinging a cutlass, leaped down the bloodstained hatch. Onemoment the desperate fury of his attack carried Glaucon backward. The twofought--sword against axe--in doubtful combat.
"Follow! follow!" called Hasdrubal, dashing Phormio aside with the flat ofhis blade. "I have him at last!" But just as Hiram was leading down adozen more, the athlete's axe swept past the sword, and fell like amillstone on the master's skull. He never screamed as he crashed upon theplanks.
This was enough. The seamen were at the end of their valour. If they mustdie, they must die. What use resisting destiny?
Slowly, slowly the moments crept for the three in the cabin. Even Lampaxogrew still. They heard Hiram pleading frantically, vainly, for anotherattempt, and raving strange things about Democrates, Lycon, and thePersian. Then behind the _Bozra_ sounded the rushing of foam around a ram,the bumping of fifty oars plying on the thole-pins. Into their sight shotthe penteconter, the brass glistening on her prow, the white bladesleaping in rhythm. Marines in armour stood on the forecastle. A few arrowspattered on the plankings of the _Bozra_. Her abject crew obeyed thedemand to surrender. Their helmsman pushed over the steering-paddle, andflung himself upon the deck. The sea-mouse went up into the wind. Thegrappling-irons rattled over the bulwark. Glaucon heard the Phoenicianswhining, "Mercy! mercy!" as they embraced the boarders' feet, then the_pro
reus_, in hearty Attic, calling, "Secure the prisoners and rummage theprize!"
Glaucon had suffered many things of late. He had faced intolerablecaptivity, immediate death. Now around his eyes swam hot mist. He fellupon a sea chest, and for a little cared not for anything around, whilstdown his cheeks would flow the tears.