Themistocles had started from Oropus with Simonides, a small guard of mariners, and a fettered prisoner, as soon as the Nausicaä’s people were a little rested. Half the night they themselves were plodding on wearily. At Tanagra the following afternoon a runner with a palm branch met them.
“Mardonius is slain. Artabazus with the rear-guard has fled northward. The Athenians aided by the Spartans stormed the camp. Glory to Athena, who gives us victory!”
“And the traitors?” Themistocles showed surprisingly little joy.
“Lycon’s body was found drifting in the Asopus. Democrates lies fettered by Aristeides’s tents.”
Then the other Athenians broke forth into pæans, but Themistocles bowed his head and was still, though the messenger told how Pausanias and his allies had taken countless treasure, and now were making ready to attack disloyal Thebes. So the admiral and his escort went at leisure across Bœotia, till they reached the Hellenic host still camped near the battle-field. There Themistocles was long in conference with Aristeides and Pausanias. After midnight he left Aristeides’s tent.
“Where is the prisoner?” he asked of the sentinel before the headquarters.
“Your Excellency means the traitor?”
“I do.”
“I will guide you.” The soldier took a torch and led the way. The two went down dark avenues of tents, and halted at one where five hoplites stood guard with their spears ready, five more slept before the entrance.
“We watch him closely, kyrie,” explained the decarch, saluting. “Naturally we fear suicide as well as escape. Two more are within the tent.”