“Explain!” a dozen shouted.
“Very simply. I have had good reason to know that the king has moved forward the western horn of his fleet, so as to enclose our anchorage at Salamis. It is impossible to retire save through the Persian line of battle.”
Perseus upholding the Gorgon’s head before Polydectes’s guests and turning them to stone wrought hardly more of a miracle than this calm announcement of Themistocles. Men stared at him vacantly, stunned by the tidings, then Adeimantus’s frightened wrath broke loose.
“Fox![10] Was this your doing?”
“I did not ask you to thank me, philotate,” was the easy answer. “It is, however, urgent to consider whether you wish to be taken unresisting in the morning.”
The Corinthian shook his fist across the table.
“Liar, as a last device to ruin us, you invent this folly.”
“It is easy to see if I lie,” rejoined Themistocles; “send out a pinnace and note where the Persians anchor. It will not take long.”
For an instant swords seemed about to leap from their scabbards, and the enraged Peloponnesians to sheathe them in the Athenian’s breast. He stood unflinching, smiling, [pg 304]while a volley of curses flew over him. Then an orderly summoned him on deck, while Adeimantus and his fellows foamed and contended below. Under the battle lantern Themistocles saw a man who was his elder in years, rugged in feature, with massive forehead and wise gray eyes. This was Aristeides the Just, the admiral’s enemy, but their feud had died when Xerxes drew near to Athens.
Hands clasped heartily as the twain stood face to face.