Atlano remained with his wife until the day waned. And none knew the secret of the queen’s yielding.
CHAPTER VI.
THE VOICE.
Drear was the night to Hellen, given over as it was to agony. He was torn with futile promptings; but, toward morning, came slight alleviation, as soon he would be with Æole. Scarce, though, had he arisen from his almost untouched meal, than Maron appeared with an order from the king. He was to go at once to the harbor with a message for the chief priest of the temple of Ouranos, and await answer.
“Maron, it meaneth that the king would be rid of me. I will not go.”
No pity stirred within the huge swarthy Maron because of this youth’s drawn face, his passionate, desperate outcry. With grim smile, he replied:
“Thou wilt speed. The king is in haste. Come.”
“I would first bid Æole good-morning.”
“Linger not, for the galley waiteth. Come—come.”
The despairing youth complied; and, as he went, Maron further enforced the king’s order. Though deaf was Hellen. Wild, murderous thoughts were chasing through his brain. He felt he could have strangled this pitiless man beside him with delight, and thus whetted have rushed upon the king. Hard—hard was it to forbear.
Upon arriving at the galley, Maron was obliged almost to drag him on board; when at once it shot off—Maron remaining to watch until it was out of sight.