“Hail to Lyrcus! The honor is his—he trained us in the use of arms.”
“Hail to Byssa!” cried another.
“Honor to Byssa, Byssa the strong and brave. She has received a sign from Zeus.”
“She killed the man who brought war upon us.”
“Hail to Byssa! We want to see Byssa.”
Lyrcus smiled, yet his brows contracted in a frown. He felt half proud, half jealous.
But the shouts became so loud and persistent that he was forced to yield and hurried into his house.
When he came out again, leading Byssa by the hand, every eye was fixed upon the pretty native of Kranaai.
She wore an ample snow-white over-garment and on her head a blue Sidonian veil, which encircled her black hair like a wreath.
Hundreds of voices greeted her with the shout: