“To you or to me?” asked Periphas.
“That I do not know,” replied Byssa. “But one thing I do know. It will cause bloodshed.”
Periphas shrugged his shoulders.
“Look,” he said, pointing to a bear-skin couch, “you can rest here in safety; you must be weary. May the gods grant you pleasant dreams—in the morning everything will seem brighter.”
With these words he left her, went to the outer part of the cavern, passed through the entrance, and walking several paces away clapped his hands.
There was a rustling sound among the huge piles of mouldering debris above the cavern. A dark figure clad in skins, with a huge staff in his hand, stood outlined against the grey evening sky. It was the herdsman who supplied the cave with provisions.
“Have you done what I ordered?” asked Periphas. “Have you put sentinels on both sides and brought the men?”
“When you sound the horn, Periphas, twenty Pelasgians will hasten to your aid.”
“Do they know Lyrcus, the Cychrean?”
“Not all of them, but some do.”