“Nip him tight, little wife,” called Phormio, for once regarding his spouse with supreme satisfaction. “It’s a dainty morsel you have in your mouth. Chew it well!”
Lampaxo’s attackers paused an instant, uncertain how to release the Etruscan. To their threats of torture the woman was deaf as the mainmast, and still the Etruscan screamed.
Glaucon had stood perfectly passive during all this grim by-play. Once Phormio saw his fellow-captive’s face twist into a smile, but in the excitement of the moment the fishmonger as well as the Carthaginians almost forgot the Isthmionices, and Hib relaxed his grip and guard. Lars’s finger was streaming red, when Hasdrubal threw away the steering-paddle in a rage.
“Silence her forever! The axe, Hib. Split her skull open!”
The axe lay at the Libyan’s feet. One instant, only one, betook his hands from the athlete’s wrists to seize the weapon, but in that instant the yell from all the crew drowned even the howls of Lars. Had any watched, they might have seen all the muscles in the Alcmæonid’s glorious body contract, might have seen the fire spring from his eyes as he put forth a godlike might. Heracles and Athena Polias had been with him when he threw his strength upon the bands that held his arms. The crushing of Lycon down had been no feat like this. In a twinkling the cords about his wrists were snapped. He swung his free hands in the air.
“Athens!” he shouted, whilst the crew stood spellbound. “Hermione! Glaucon is still Glaucon!”
Hib had grasped the axe, but he never knew what smote him once behind the ear and sent him rolling lifeless against the bulwark. In an instant his bright weapon was swinging high above the athlete’s head. Glaucon stood terrible as Achilles before the cowering Trojans.
“Woe! woe! he is Melkarth. We are lost men!” groaned the crew.
“At him, fools!” bawled Hasdrubal, first to recover wits, “his feet are still shackled.”
But whilst the master called to them, the axe dashed down upon the fetters, and one great stroke smote the coupling-link in twain. The Athenian stood a moment looking right and left, the axe dancing as a toy in his grasp, and a smile on his face inviting, “Prove me.”