XIV.
How long Byssa sat thus she knew not.
She felt neither hope nor fear; she had no distinct consciousness of what had happened.
A shadow passed before the entrance of the cave; there was a howl of joy, and Byssa felt herself pushed against the cliff.
It was Bremon, who in delight at finding her trail at the foot of the mountain, had snatched his chain from Lyrcus’ hand and now leaped upon her, overwhelming her with caresses.
The dog’s affection cheered Byssa’s heart; she roused herself from her stupor and covered the faithful animal with tears and kisses.
Again a shadow glided past the opening of the cavern.
Lyrcus, armed with spear and shield, stood before her, gazing wildly beyond her into the cave as though his glance sought someone. Then he looked searchingly into her eyes, as if he would fain read her inmost soul.
Byssa rose—her knees no longer trembled. As though answering the doubt in her husband’s glance, she pointed to the Pelasgian stretched in the dust and said:
“I have killed him.”
A shudder ran through Lyrcus’ limbs and he stared, as though unable to trust his eyes, at the lifeless form lying in the darkness.
“Byssa!” he cried, stretching out his arms to embrace his wife.
But she shrank back, shrieking:
“No, no, do not touch me.” Then in a low tone she added: “Shall I go to Mekone to be purified from the blood?”
For a moment Lyrcus made no answer, then he replied:
“No. Go to your father. It was a righteous murder.”
When, a short time after, they left the cave Lyrcus lingered behind and, unnoticed by his wife, drew the murderous weapon from the wound and thrust it into his own belt.
Scarcely had Bremon followed the pair out, ere in his joy, he leaped and danced around them, barking with all his might.
Instantly the whole mountain seemed to be alive. The loose stones above the cave rattled again and, urged by some dark foreboding, Periphas’ faithful herdsman hastily descended. At the same time, from the nearest chasm on each side, emerged half a score of armed men, yawning, rubbing their eyes, and straightening their skin cloaks, as if suddenly roused from sleep.
The shepherd entered the cave, but instantly came out again, looking very pale and troubled, as pointing to the two retreating figures he shouted wrathfully:
“Seize them! They have killed him ... with his own knife.”
The sleepy Pelasgians opened their eyes and several recognized the Cychrean leader.
“It’s Lyrcus!” they shouted to the other party.
“Let us surround him,” was the reply.
The men approached from both sides and speedily formed a circle around the departing pair. At each step they took the ring grew smaller. Bremon noticed the danger, showed his teeth, growled, and no longer wandered away from his master.
“Keep close behind me, wife,” said Lyrcus.
And, to obtain greater freedom of movement, he took off his upper garment and flung it to her. Then, crouching slightly behind his shield, he waited until the difficulty of marching on the uneven surface of the mountain should make a breach in the Pelasgians’ circle.
“Follow me!” he called to Byssa, and set off at a run, but to give her time did not go at full speed and, ere he knew it, he was surrounded.
With the courage given by superior strength Lyrcus now tried to fight his way through. He felled two Pelasgians to the earth, and Bremon furiously attacked two others and made them unfit for combat. But the poor dog was soon killed, and Lyrcus needed all his skill in the use of arms to defend himself.
Just at that moment a loud shout was heard close at hand.
“Hold! In the name of the gods, hold!”
A youth in full armor suddenly forced his way to Lyrcus and covered him with his own body.
“Pelasgians!” he cried, “so brave a warrior ought not to die thus ... one against many.”
Lyrcus’ assailants let their weapons fall and looked around them in surprise. They were already outflanked by the young chieftain’s men.
Several raised their voices:
“This Cychrean has killed Periphas.”
“I know it,” replied the youth; “I heard the shepherd call to you. But Periphas fell by his own deeds. He stole this man’s wife.”
Lyrcus had thrust his spear into the ground and used his sword when his assailants pressed upon him. He now drew it out and approached the young leader.
“Who are you, youth?” he asked in surprise; for he perceived by the new-comers’ arms and dress that they were Pelasgians.
“My name is Nomion,” the young man answered: “I am a son of Hyllus, surnamed ‘the old.’ Ten days ago he gave me the command of our tribe. A few hours after I assembled the other chiefs to hold a council. My most ardent desire is to establish peace and friendship between the Pelasgians and Cychreans.”
Lyrcus shook his head.
“It will be no easy task. There is blood between us.”
“I can smooth over Periphas’ murder,” said Nomion, “but Tydeus’ assassination is a harder matter. How did he perish?”
“He fell in a popular brawl one day when I was away fishing.”
Nomion nodded with a look of satisfaction.
“I thought that you were absent,” he said.
Then, turning to his men, he shouted in a loud voice:
“This Cychrean and his wife are free. They can go where they list.”