“I knew of the offer before.”
“A great pity you are not more eager. Hermes seldom sends such chances twice. I hoped to have you for ‘my royal brother’ when they gave me the like lordship of Lacedæmon. However, the matter does not end with your refusal.”
“I have said, ‘Do your worst.’ ”
“And my worst is—Agis.”
For an instant Lycon was dismayed. He thought he had slain his victim with one word. Democrates dropped from his clutch and upon the pavement as though stricken through [pg 340]the heart by an arrow. He was pallid as a corpse, at first he only groaned.
“Eu! eu! good comrade,” cried the Spartan, dragging him up, half triumphant, half sympathetic, “I did not know I was throwing Zeus’s thunderbolts.”
The Athenian sat with his head on his hands. In all his dealings with the Spartan he had believed he had covered the details of the fate of Glaucon. Lycon could surmise what he liked, but the proof to make the damning charges good Democrates believed he had safe in his own keeping. Only one man could have unlocked the casket of infamy—Agis—and the mention of his name was as a bolt from the blue.
“Where is he? I heard he was killed at Artemisium.” Lycon hardly understood his victim’s thick whispers.
“Wounded indeed, philotate, taken prisoner, and sent to Thebes. There friends of mine found he had a story to tell—greatly to my advantage. It is only a little time since he came to Sparta.”
“What lies has he told?”