“Fools! Hold!” roared Leonidas, and the moment the throng saw what newcomers they faced, Athenian and Spartan let their arms drop and stood sheepish and silent. Themistocles instantly stepped forward and held up his hand. His voice, trumpet-clear, rang out among the pines. In three sentences he dissolved the tumult.
“Fellow-Hellenes, do not let Dame Discord make sport of you. I saw all that befell. It is only an unlucky misunderstanding. You are quite satisfied, I am sure, Master Bronze-Dealer?”
The Sicyonian, who saw in a riot the ruin of his evening’s trade, nodded gladly.
“He says there was no thieving, and he is entirely satisfied. He thanks you for your friendly zeal. The Oriental was not Dexippus’s slave, and Xerxes does not need such boys for spies. I am certain Glaucon would not insult Sparta. So let us part without bad blood, and await the judgment of the god in the contest to-morrow.”
Not a voice answered him. The crash of music from the sacrificial embassy of Syracuse diverted everybody’s attention; most of the company streamed away to follow the flower-decked chariots and cattle back to the temple. Themistocles and Leonidas were left almost alone to approach the athlete.
“You are ever Glaucon the Fortunate,” laughed Themistocles; “had we not chanced this way, what would not have befallen?”
“Ah, it was delightful,” rejoined the athlete, his eyes still kindled; “the shock, the striving, the putting one’s own [pg 16]strength and will against many and feeling ‘I am the stronger.’ ”
“Delightful, no doubt” replied the statesman, “though Zeus spare me fighting one against ten! But what god possessed you to meddle in this brawl, and imperil all chances for to-morrow?”
“I was returning from practice at the palæstra. I saw the lad beset and knew he was not Dexippus’s slave. I ran to help him. I thought no more about it.”
“And risked everything for a sly-eyed Oriental. Where is the rascal?”