“Euge! Try you shall.” He let his voice drop. “Do not forget your name henceforth is Critias. The Nausicaä’s crew are mostly from Sunium and the Mesogia. They’d hardly recognize you under that beard; still Sicinnus must alter you.”
“Command me, kyrie,” said the Asiatic.
“A strange time and place, but you must do it. Find some dark dye for this man’s hair to-night, and at dawn have him aboard the flag-ship.”
“The thing can be done, kyrie.”
“After that, lie down and sleep. Because Themistocles is awake, is no cause for others’ star-gazing. Sleep sound. Pray Apollo and Hephæstus to make your eye sure, your hand strong. Then awake to see the glory of Hellas.”
Confidence, yes, power came through the tones of the admiral’s voice. Themistocles went away to the belated council. Sicinnus led his charge through the crooked streets of the town of Salamis. Sailors were sleeping in the open night, and they stumbled over them. At last they found a small tavern where a dozen shipmen sprawled on the earthen floor, and a gaping host was just quenching his last lamp. Sicinnus, however, seemed to know him. There was much protesting and headshaking, at last ended by the glint of a daric. The man grumbled, departed, returned after a tedious interval with a pot of ointment, found Hermes knew [pg 307]where. By a rush-candle’s flicker Sicinnus applied the dark dye with a practised hand.
“You know the art well,” observed the outlaw.
“Assuredly; the agent of Themistocles must be a Proteus with his disguises.”
Sicinnus laid down his pot and brushes. They had no mirror, but Glaucon knew that he was transformed. The host got his daric. Again they went out into the night and forsaking the crowded town sought the seaside. The strand was broad, the sand soft and cool, the circling stars gave three hours yet of night, and they lay down to rest. The sea and the shore stretched away, a magic vista with a thousand mystic shapes springing out of the charmed darkness, made and unmade as overwrought fancy summoned them. As from an unreal world Glaucon—whilst he lay—saw the lights of the scattered ships, heard the clank of chains, the rattling of tacklings. Nature slept. Only man was waking.
“The mountain brows, the rocks, the peaks are sleeping,