"We are lost, my friend," Ariston said, in a low voice, to his host, recognizing the pirate.
"You bade me once to remember Medon," Syphax bellowed. "I bid thee now to remember him and the silver talent thou wert to give me for what was done in Athens. I have had no luck since; and now thou shalt pay for all!" He rushed upon Ariston, who tried to defend himself; but the pirate easily disarmed him and dragged him out into the room. The master of the house fell beneath a shower of blows.
"Now for the harbor! Our time is short," Syphax shouted, hurrying Ariston with him down the stairs.
The screaming and prayers of the women mingled with sounds of brutal merriment told him that his order was unheeded.
"Do you hear?" he roared. "Come, I tell you, before it is too late!"
This time two of the wretches obeyed him, bursting from the room with loud guffaws. The others straggled after them, but several minutes elapsed before they were all assembled for the sally.
"Why not do it here?" one of the sailors asked, indicating Ariston, whose arm Syphax held in a firm grasp.
"Because I intend to make him remember Medon," the freebooter answered savagely. "You shall see sport when we reach the harbor."
A cold sweat covered Ariston's forehead, but he made no sound. His ear had caught the trampling of feet, and he hoped yet for rescue.
The sailors emerged into the street and turned toward the harbor. Just as they reached the first corner, a company of Thessalians, in pursuit of a few Tyrian fugitives, ran into them. No questions were asked. The swords of the cavalrymen were already out, and they drove them into the bodies of the men who were unfortunate enough to block their way.