He led her into a room in the cave where a clay lamp was burning and on a large flat stone stood dishes containing barley bread, fruit, honey, and milk.
“Do not grieve, fair Byssa,” he said. “A man must secure himself against such a foe as Lyrcus....”
“By stealing women?” Byssa contemptuously interrupted. “Is that the custom among the Pelasgians? Lyrcus carried home neither maids nor matrons.”
“Perhaps so,” replied Periphas calmly. “But the Pelasgians have made war upon the Cychreans and were defeated. As one of the chiefs who took up arms, I have everything to fear. So I sought a hostage, and where could I find a better one than the woman who is most dear to Lyrcus?”
“Your tongue is smooth, Periphas! But I do not trust you.”
“What do you fear, Byssa? Hostages are sacred; you are as secure as if you were under a father’s roof.”
“And Lyrcus! Will he have no suspicion? Will he think I have been under a father’s roof?”
“You will tell him so, and he will believe you. The inside of the cave is yours; no one shall molest you. You will be compelled to stay here only a few days, until everything is arranged between the Pelasgians and Cychreans.”
Byssa gazed sullenly into vacancy.
“Beware, Periphas!” she said. “This will surely bring misfortune.”