“His name is Ladisius,” answered Zopyrus, “and now if you will permit, we must be on our way, for a great deal depends upon this mission.”
As soon as Artabazus was out of hearing, Zopyrus said to his companion. “That was indeed a narrow escape and now we must hasten with all possible speed, for Artabazus will begin pursuit as soon as he learns of your escape.”
“Halt! Give the password,” demanded the sentry at the edge of the encampment.
Zopyrus easily made known his identity to the sentinel who was apprised of his mission to Gargaphia. Once beyond the confines of the camp the two breathed more freely. The soft breeze which fanned their cheeks was laden with the vernal odors of field and forest. The meadows through which they sped, were dotted with field lilies and asphodel, myriads of them, their white blossoms gleaming from the grass like the stars from the heavens till it seemed to the fugitives that in their flight earth and sky had changed places and that they trod the milky-way.
“How far is it to the fountain of Gargaphia?” asked Ladice after they had gone for some time in silence.
Zopyrus paused a moment, scanning his companion’s face to ascertain whether or not she had put her question seriously. Assured that she was in earnest, he continued his pace, talking the while.
“You are not with a Persian soldier as you suppose, my little friend. Zopyrus, the Persian, ceased to exist when he witnessed the death of his comrade, Masistius. My father was a Persian, satrap of Sardis, my mother a Greek whose parents were Athenians. My environment forced me to don uniform and follow the Persian king, but the natural heritage from my mother, and her early tutelage, caused my soul to cry out continually against the actions of my body. For months I was a prey of weakness and indecision. My every act was accomplished after agonizing periods of vacillation. My will-power was being destroyed and though cognizant of the fact, I seemed powerless to retrieve the volition I once possessed. With the death of Masistius all bonds of honor with the Persians seemed severed, and I pledged myself to save Athens if it were not already too late. If I seem a traitor in your eyes, judge me not too harshly. Gold is not my motive, for I shall be poorer for this choice I have made; safety is no object, for I intend to make atonement by wielding the sword in the Greek cause. Have I convinced you, fair maid, that my incentives are pure, and that I do well to allow this determination to supercede my former hesitancy?”
He was satisfied with her ready nod of assent. At last they reached the entrance to Oak Heads pass, by which means they would be enabled to cross Mt. Cithæron. Their progress was greatly impeded by the dense tangle of underbrush. The branches of trees met overhead, forming a canopy of foliage so thick that the moon’s beams could not penetrate. For hours the crackling of twigs underfoot, and an occasional hoot from some night-owl were the only sounds that disturbed the tranquility of the night.
Suddenly Ladice stopped and asked abruptly: “Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” replied her companion, “I heard a slight sound, but I think it is a prowling beast on some nocturnal journey. Stay close and keep your hand upon your dagger for you may have to use it.”