XI.
As a captain in the mounted police Hipyllos was obliged to have a helmet, breast-plate, shield, lance, sword, and spurs; besides the armor required for the forehead, chest, and flanks of the horse. The greater part of this costly equipment was made by the armorer Sauros. The latter did not live, like most of those who followed his trade, in the Scambonidae quarter of the city, but in the street of the sun-dials, and his forge was in the alley obliquely opposite to the side-building of Xenocles’ house. This was a place Hipyllos never wearied of visiting; merely to know he was near pretty Clytie was a delight to him.
The day after the meeting at Thuphrastos’ house, he was to try on the cuirass. He reached Sauros’ shop just at twilight. The smith had gone out, but a young slave who was filing a metal plate thought he would soon return. The work-shop was filled with smoke and unpleasant odors, so Hipyllos preferred to wait outside.
A luxuriant garden extended to a slope, along which ran a walk overgrown with vines supported on cross-bars resting on tall poles. The end of this walk, where Hipyllos stood, was closed by a dilapidated wall.
A wide view was obtained from this place. At the left rose the hill of the Museium and farther on the Acropolis towered into the air. The streets, trees, and houses between stood forth in dusky outlines amid the gloom of twilight. Lamps shone here and there. The sky was slightly overcast, and the foliage exhaled a strong odor as though it was going to rain. Ever and anon a sleepy gust of wind stirred the damp air. Everything expressed peace and rest, and the most profound silence reigned in this quarter of the city.
Suddenly light footsteps and mysterious whispers were heard at a little distance.
Hipyllos looked through a gap in the ruined wall, and saw several women approaching from the other end of the walk. The first one carried a lantern with horn sides and seemed to be showing the second the way. A third figure followed.
The woman with the lantern was dressed in a strange, outlandish costume. Over her head a blue cloth wrought with silver stars was drawn in long folds, two of which hung down on her breast, and on her hair above the brow, in place of a clasp, glittered a gold sun. She wore a blue robe, and across her bosom and shoulder passed a broad white band upon which were embroidered golden suns, crescents, and stars.
At this time there lived in Athens a woman of foreign birth named Ninus, who called herself a priestess of the Phrygian god Sabazius. She foretold future events and brewed love-potions, while invoking gods and demons. Rumor said that she had a large number of customers, especially women.
Hipyllos did not doubt that this was the person he saw. She seemed to be about forty years old; her face was still beautiful, though uncommonly pale, and as cold and motionless as if hewn from stone.
Her companion was closely-veiled and wrapped in a long, dark robe drawn over her face like a hood. Hipyllos could not catch the smallest glimpse of her features, but so far as he could judge from her figure, bearing, and gait, she was young, and so, too, seemed the female slave who followed her.
The new-comers directed their steps towards the vine-covered alley where Hipyllos was standing. The priestess of Sabazius set the lantern on a stone table just inside the ruined wall, and took from a basket a quantity of strange things. As well as Hipyllos could see by the dim light, among them were metal bowls, laurel branches, purple wool, an iron gridiron, some wax figures, and a wheel.
During these preparations her veiled companion had often showed signs of impatience.
“Oh, if I had never come!” she exclaimed. “A daughter outside of her father’s house after dark! If my mother should miss me—what a disgrace!”
The voice which echoed in clear, musical tones on the stillness of evening made Hipyllos’ heart throb. He had never heard Clytie speak, but it seemed to him that she must speak thus.
“Have no fear, pretty maid,” said Ninus in a singularly deep voice with a foreign accent. “Let Doris run back and keep watch. Then you can be called at once.”
“Yes, dear Doris, run, run!”
The slave lingered, but was obliged to obey.
Hearing the name of Doris strengthened Hipyllos in the belief that Clytie stood before him, for the slave through whom he had learned from Manodoros that her mistress loved him was called Doris.
“Make haste, good Ninus,” said the veiled figure when she was left alone with the priestess. “I am trembling with fright.”
“Give me time,” muttered Ninus. “Do you suppose the gods can be invoked as we draw water or chop wood? It would be a pity,” she added, pointing to the numerous articles on the table, “if all this should have been done in vain. I was obliged to bargain with and bribe slaves. How else could I get a man’s shoe or the fringe from his upper garment? But to bargain and bribe....”
Ninus paused, casting a side-glance at the young girl, who remained silent. The priestess saw that she must speak more plainly.
“But to bribe,” she added, “requires money, a great deal of money.”
“I haven’t any; I’ve never had money.”
This was evidently not the first time the answer had been given to Ninus. She understood how to help herself.
“Well, well!” she cried, “if you have no money, my pretty one, you probably have many rings, clasps, and such things.”
The veiled figure threw back her cloak; two dazzlingly white arms appeared a moment and unfastened a brooch from her forehead. But the light from the lantern was so faint that Hipyllos rather imagined than saw the features which to him were the dearest in the world.
“Take this ornament,” she said; “I have many of them.... Take this pin and clasp too.”
Ninus bent her head to conceal her delight.
“Generous girl!” she exclaimed, “who would not gladly serve a maiden fair as Aphrodite and blooming as Artemis?”
“Offer your thanks to Doris,” said the veiled figure. “She persuaded me to come. She has told you all, even that terrible thing—the worst misfortune which could befall me.”