The Sidonian—he was the son of the newly-appointed king of that city—looked very grave. “I know something of these Tyrians and of their ways, which indeed are not very different from ours. They mean to sacrifice these prisoners to the gods.”
Charidemus uttered an exclamation of horror.
“Yes,” said the Sidonian, “it is shocking, but it is not so very long, as I have read, since you Greeks did the same. But let that pass; you are thinking what is to be done. Stop,” he went on, for Charidemus started up from his seat, “you can’t take Tyre single-handed. And I think I might help you. Let me consider for a few moments.”
After a pause he said, “You are ready, I take it, to risk a good deal for your friend.”
“Yes,” cried the Macedonian, “my life, anything.”
“Well; we must get him out. Fortunately there are two or three days to think about it. At least I hope so. There is always a great sacrifice to Melkarth—your Hercules, as, I dare say, you know—on the new moon; and they will probably reserve the principal prisoner for that. The moon is, I know, four days short of being new. So we have time to think. Come with me to my quarters, when we can leave this place, and let us talk the matter over.”
It was not long before the two contrived to slip away from their places at the table. When they found themselves alone, the prince began—
“We might get into Tyre, I think, unobserved.”
“We,” interrupted Charidemus in intense surprise. “Do you think of going with me?”
“Why not?” returned his companion. “I am fond of adventure, and this really seems to promise very well. And I have other reasons, too; but they will do another day when I will tell you my story. Of course you must have some one with you who can speak the language; so that if you are willing to have me for a comrade, I am ready.”