Lyrcus’ assailants let their weapons fall and looked around them in surprise. They were already outflanked by the young chieftain’s men.
Several raised their voices:
“This Cychrean has killed Periphas.”
“I know it,” replied the youth; “I heard the shepherd call to you. But Periphas fell by his own deeds. He stole this man’s wife.”
Lyrcus had thrust his spear into the ground and used his sword when his assailants pressed upon him. He now drew it out and approached the young leader.
“Who are you, youth?” he asked in surprise; for he perceived by the new-comers’ arms and dress that they were Pelasgians.
“My name is Nomion,” the young man answered: “I am a son of Hyllus, surnamed ‘the old.’ Ten days ago he gave me the command of our tribe. A few hours after I assembled the other chiefs to hold a council. My most ardent desire is to establish peace and friendship between the Pelasgians and Cychreans.”
Lyrcus shook his head.
“It will be no easy task. There is blood between us.”
“I can smooth over Periphas’ murder,” said Nomion, “but Tydeus’ assassination is a harder matter. How did he perish?”