The fishmonger let his voice fall lower.
“Democrates is unhappy. Something weighs on his mind. He is afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Bias his slave came to see me again last night. Many of his master’s doings have been strange to him. Many are riddles still, but one thing at last is plain. Hiram has been to see Democrates once more, despite the previous threats. Bias listened. He could not understand everything, but he heard Lycon’s name passed many times, then one thing he caught clearly. ‘The Babylonish carpet-seller was the Prince Mardonius.’ ‘The Babylonian fled on the Solon.’ ‘The Prince is safe in Sardis.’ If Mardonius could escape the storm and wreck, why not Glaucon, a king among swimmers?”
Hermione clapped her hands to her head.
“Don’t torture me. I’ve long since trodden out hope. Why has he sent me no word in all these months of pain?”
“It is not the easiest thing to get a letter across the Ægean in these days of roaring war.”
“I dare not believe it. What else did Bias hear?”
“Very little. Hiram was urging something. Democrates always said, ‘Impossible.’ Hiram went away with a very sour grin. However, Democrates caught Bias lurking.”
“And flogged him?”