“Seize the Barbarian thief!” had been his shout as he leaped and snatched the alleged culprit’s mantle. The boy escaped easily by the frailness of his dress, which tore in the merchant’s hands; but a score of bystanders seized the fugitive and dragged him back to the Sicyonian, whose order to “search!” would have been promptly obeyed; but at this instant he stumbled over the missing lamp on the ground before the table, whence probably it had fallen. The bronze-dealer was now mollified, and would willingly have released the lad, but a Spartan bystander was more zealous.
“Here’s a Barbarian thief and spy!” he began bellowing; “he dropped the lamp when he was detected! Have him to the temple and to the wardens of the games!”
The magic word “spy” let loose the tongues and passions of every man within hearing. The unfortunate lad was seized again and jostled rudely, while questions rattled over him like hailstones.
“Whose slave are you? Why here? Where’s your master? Where did you get that outlandish dress and gold-laced turban? Confess, confess,—or it’ll be whipped out of you! What villany are you up to?”
If the prisoner had understood Greek,—which was doubtful,—he could scarce have comprehended this babel. He struggled vainly; tears started to his eyes. Then he committed a blunder. Not attempting a protest, he thrust [pg 13]a small hand into his crimson belt and drew forth a handful of gold as bribe for release.
“A slave with ten darics!” bawled the officious Spartan, never relaxing his grip. “Hark you, friends, it’s plain as day. Dexippus of Corinth has a Syrian lad like this. The young scoundrel’s robbed his master and is running away.”
“That’s it! A runaway! To the temple with him!” chimed a dozen. The prisoner’s outcries were drowned. He would have been swept off in ungentle custody had not a strong hand intervened in his favor.
“A moment, good citizens,” called a voice in clear Attic. “Release this lad. I know Dexippus’s slave; he’s no such fellow.”
The others, low-browed Spartans mostly, turned, ill-pleased at the interruption of an Athenian, but shrank a step as a name went among them.
“Castor and Pollux—it’s Glaucon the Beautiful!”