"Neither war, famine, nor pestilence shall take us from thee until thou art married," Chares cried, half in jest. "We swear it, Leonidas, by the head of Zeus!"
"We swear it!" the Spartan echoed, and each of them again pressed the young man's hand.
"I expected no less of you," Clearchus said, smiling into the faces of his companions. "It makes my heart glad to know that you will be with me. But after your long ride you must both be used up. I will leave you to get an hour or two of sleep before the Assembly which has been called for this afternoon to hear what Demosthenes has to say upon our policy toward Macedon. You will want to hear him, of course."
"Go, Clearchus," Chares said, laughing. "That is a long speech to tell us that you would like to be rid of us while you go to your Artemisia. Come back in time for the bath, that's all."
CHAPTER II
WARNING FROM THE GODS
A few miles west of Athens, in the suburb of Academe, dwelt Melissa, aunt and guardian of Artemisia. She was an invalid, bedridden for the greater part of the year, and she had chosen to live in the country that she might not be disturbed by the city noises. She had never married, and no departure from the routine of her well-ordered house was permitted. She loved her niece; but she was not sorry to have her marry, because, as she said, her own hold upon life was so uncertain, and besides, the match was a brilliant one.
Her household consisted of Philox, her steward, who had managed her affairs for a score of years, Tolmon, her gardener, and a dozen women slaves who, like their mistress, had passed the prime of life.
In Melissa's old-fashioned garden Artemisia, with two little slave girls to help her, was at work over a hedge of roses. She had not yet reached her nineteenth year. Her soft, light brown hair was gathered in a knot at the back of her head, showing the graceful curve of the nape of her neck and half revealing the little pink lobes of her ears. Her forehead was low and smooth and broad, with delicately arched brows, a shade darker than her hair. Her eyes were blue and the color in her cheeks was heightened by her exertions in bringing the straying rose stems into place. The folds of her pure white chiton left her warm arms bare to the shoulder and defined the youthful lines of her supple figure. As she stooped among the flowers, handling them with gentle touches, she seemed preoccupied, and her glance continually wandered from her task.