THE DISLOYALTY OF PHORMIO
On the evening of the Panathenæa, Bias, servant of Democrates, had supped with Phormio,—for in democratic Athens a humble citizen would not disdain to entertain even a slave. The Thracian had a merry wit and a story-teller’s gift that more than paid for the supper of barley-porridge and salt mackerel, and after the viands had disappeared was ready even to tell tales against his master.
“I’ve turned my brain inside out, and shaken it like a meal sack. No wisdom comes. The kyrios has something on his mind. He prays to Hermes Dolios as often as if he were a cut-purse. Then yesterday he sent me for Agis—”
“Agis?” Phormio pricked up his ears. “The gambling-house keeper? What does Democrates with him?”
“Answer yourself. My master has been to Agis’s pretty place before to see his cocks. However, this is different. To-day I met Theon.”
“Who’s he?”
“Agis’s slave, the merriest scoundrel in Athens. Agis, he says, has been prancing like an ass stuffed with barley. He gave Theon a letter from Democrates to take to your Babylonian opposite; Theon must hunt up Seuthes, a Corinthian, and worm out of him when and how he was leaving Athens. Agis promised Theon a gold stater if all was right.”
Phormio whistled. “You mean the carpet-dealer here? By Athena’s owls, there is no light in his window to-night!”
“None, indeed,” crackled Lampaxo; “didn’t I see that cursed Babylonian with his servants gliding out just as Bias entered? Zeus knows whither! I hope ere dawn Democrates has them by the heels.”
“Democrates does something to-night,” asserted Bias, extending his cup for wine. “At noon Agis flew up to him, chattered something in his ear, whereupon Democrates bade me be off and not approach him till to-morrow, otherwise a cane gets broken on my shoulders.”