CHAPTER XII
MENA READS A LETTER
"They have gone," said Ariston, on his return home one evening.
"Who have gone?" his wife inquired.
"Clearchus and his two friends, Chares and the Spartan," the old manreplied. "They set out for Pella this afternoon to join the Macedonianarmy. Fortune has smiled upon us once more and I think there will be aturn in our affairs."
Ariston made no attempt to hide his satisfaction. His shoulders nolonger stooped, and his step was light. A hundred schemes were runningthrough his head for repairing the disasters that had brought him solow. For all practical purposes he was again the richest man inAthens, and with the gold at his command he imagined that it would beeasy for him to regain his feet.
"You must be cautious," Xanthe said anxiously. "You know that at anytime Clearchus may demand an account."
"Yes, but he will not," Ariston replied, pinching her withered cheek."He will never return to trouble us. I have news of what the GreatKing is doing and unless the Gods themselves interfere to saveAlexander, he will be crushed as soon as he has crossed the Hellespont.The Persians will meet him there in such numbers that there can be noescape for him. None who follow him will return. By Hermes, I feelalmost young again!"
He entered his workroom briskly and sat down at the table. Producing aroll of papyrus, he broke the seal, slipped off the wrapping, andspread the document out before him.
"Iphicrates to Ariston," he read. "Greeting: I have obeyed yourinstructions. Syphax brought me the girl. I dismissed him withpromises after she had told me that she had no complaint to makeagainst him. I am convinced that he is a rogue and that he will liveto be crucified. For Artemisia, she remains in my household. I havetold her that I am awaiting a suitable opportunity to send her back toAthens; but I have put her off from time to time with excuses. She haslost flesh since she came hither, and if she is to be sold, I think itwould be best not to delay too long, as her value will be less than ifshe were offered now. She has written many letters, which I promisedto forward for her. One of these I send you with this; the others havebeen destroyed.
"It is expensive for me to maintain her as you directed. It has costme already one talent and twenty drachmae, which leaves me in your debtsix talents, eleven drachmae, and thirty minae. Please make thiscorrection in our account.
"There is talk here that Alexander, the Macedonian, is preparing tolead an army against this city. Nobody doubts that he will bedefeated, since Parmenio could accomplish nothing. Memnon, theRhodian, has been here, strengthening the fortifications and exercisingthe soldiers, but of this there is no need; for all the armies ofGreece could not take this place, even though they should invest it byland and sea. May the Gods keep you in good health! Farewell."
"He has cheated me out of a talent, at least!" Ariston muttered. "Theold skinflint!"
He turned his attention to a second roll of papyrus, which had beenenclosed in the first.
"My Beloved," it ran. "Why hast thou not answered the letters I havesent thee, or come thyself to take me home? Clearchus, my Life, I knowthou hast not forgotten me, although it seems ages since I last sawthee. Each day I watch and wait for a word from thee, only one littleword, but none has come. I try to keep up my courage, thinking thatperhaps thou art seeking me elsewhere and that thou hast not receivedmy letters. I do not doubt thee, Clearchus, but I am weary of waitingfor thee and my heart is sick. When shall I hear thy voice and see thyface again? I pray each night and morning to Artemis to give thee backto me. My love, my love, may the Gods, who know all things, keep theesafe! While I live, I am thine. Farewell."
A smile played about the corners of Ariston's thin lips as he thrustthe papyrus into the flame of the lamp and held it over the brazieruntil it was consumed. He did the same with the epistle thatIphicrates had sent to him, and then plunged into his accounts.
Xanthe had never been quick-witted, and the monotonous round of herlabors had dulled even her natural perceptions. At the bottom of herheart she believed her husband to be the cleverest man in the world.She did not pretend to fathom his schemes. The twistings and windingsof his subtle mind confused and bewildered her, and she had no threadby which to trace the labyrinth. While she had long ago ceased to tryto follow him, the fact that she did not know all that he was doingtended to make her suspicious, and her distrust, as is usual with womenof limited intelligence, took the form of jealousy.
In their forty years of married life Ariston had never given her theslightest cause for such an emotion. Among his few weaknesses therewas none for women, whom he despised as mere machines or treated ascommodities. But notwithstanding its lack of result, Xanthe, yearafter year, maintained her vigil, ever seeking what she most dreaded tofind.
Of late her husband's cares and advancing age had given her a feelingof security, but the revival of his spirits at the departure of hisnephew sent her mind back again to the well-worn track. Could it bethat he was deceiving her after all?
This idea laid siege to her thoughts with recurrent insistence. Whathad she to attract so brilliant a man? Her mirror showed her awrinkled brow and hollow cheeks. She turned away from it withbitterness in her heart. The wonder was that he had ever loved her;but that was years ago. She could not blame him if he sought a youngerand fairer companion for his hours of relaxation. Other men did thesame, and men were all alike.
Tormenting herself with these thoughts, the unfortunate woman passed asleepless night, and rose determined to know the worst. As soon asAriston had gone out, she entered his workroom. Her search brought herat last to the brazier, where she found the charred fragments of theletters from Halicarnassus. Unluckily one corner of Artemisia'smissive to Clearchus had not been wholly burned. She bore it intriumph to her own apartments and set herself to the task ofdeciphering its contents. The very fact that her husband had sought toburn the letter was enough in her excited frame of mind to convince herthat her suspicions were correct. It remained only to establish theproof.
She succeeded in making out a few words, but she could derive nomeaning from them. Study them as she would, her skill failed her. Thetantalizing thought that knowledge was within her grasp and eluding herfilled her with rage. She was still puzzling over the fragment whenshe was interrupted by a knocking at the door. On the threshold stoodthe sharp-faced Egyptian whom she had so often seen with her husband.
"Is Ariston here?" he demanded.
She told him that her husband was away from home.
"Then I will wait for him," Mena returned coolly, pushing past her intothe house. "He told me to see him without fail and he will soon behere."
There was no help for it now that he was inside the house. Xanthe ledhim to a bench beside the cistern and gave him fruit and wine. Thethought occurred to her that he might be able to read the riddle thathad baffled her. There could be no harm in showing him the fragment,she reasoned, since it could tell him nothing, although to her it couldreveal so much. The temptation was strong, and after all theopportunity was too good to be lost.
"Can you read this for me?" she asked, placing the blackened papyrusbefore him.
He took it up and studied it curiously.
"Where did you find it?" he demanded, shifting his beadlike eyesquickly to hers.
"The wind blew it into the court, here," she stammered, taken aback bythe question. "I wondered what it might be."
His glance continued to rest upon her face for an instant before itwent back to the fragment. It was easy enough for him to read themboth, and a malicious smile twitched his mouth as he understood thatAriston had a jealous wife. The idea struck him as distinctlyridiculous. More in idleness than with any direct purpose, exceptingthat of making mischief, he determined to humor her mood.
"It is difficult to understand," he said, looking carefully at thepapyrus, "as it seems to have been burned. But here it says: 'Whenshall I hear thy voice and see thy face?' and here: 'While I live, I amthine.' I
t sounds like a poet, but the writing is that of a woman.You seem to have surprised some romantic love affair. You probablyhave some amorous youth among your neighbors whom a girl is foolishenough to adore."
Xanthe's forebodings had suddenly become realities. Ariston, then, wasdeceiving her, and she had not been mistaken in him. Of that, she wasnow certain. He had probably always deceived her and she had been afool ever to believe him. Her world seemed coming to an end.
"Why do you say that the letter was sent to a young man?" she asked."Might it not have been an old one?"
"I dare say," the Egyptian replied carelessly. "Old men are often theworst in these matters."
"This girl, whoever she may be, seems very much in love with him,"Xanthe remarked.
"No doubt," Mena said, watching her with increasing amusement, "andprobably he has a wife of his own. Why else should he burn the letter?"
Xanthe winced at this thrust, although she had no idea that Mena hadfathomed what was in her mind. "At any rate, he cannot marry her," shesaid, as though thinking aloud.
"The old one might die, you know," Mena suggested. "Such things havebeen known to happen at the right moment."
These words were accompanied by a look so full of meaning that poorXanthe felt a chill of apprehension. She did not trust herself to saymore, but carried away the fragment to her own room, where sheconcealed it.
Mena's hint had fallen upon fertile ground. She went over thesituation again and again in her mind, coming always to the sameconclusion. That Ariston was carrying on an intrigue with some girlwas now certain; for it never occurred to her that the letter might nothave been intended for him. It seemed certain to her also that herhusband would seek to rid himself of her so that he might marry herrival. Mena was right. Such things had happened more than once andpoison was the easiest way. If she should die, who was there to askwhat had caused her death? Nobody. She began to take infiniteprecautions regarding her food, tasting nothing that she had notherself prepared; yet she felt that she was in hourly danger in spiteof all she could do. When nothing happened to her, she concluded thather husband's failure to attempt her life was due solely to the factthat his plans were not yet ripe. When all was ready, he would killher and flee with Clearchus' fortune to some distant land, where hecould meet the abandoned creature upon whom his affections had fallen.She knew only too well that he was capable of anything in thefurtherance of his selfish schemes. Thus her folly led her on until atlast she came to regard her imaginings as truth confirmed. But if shewas to be murdered, she thought, at least she would prevent him fromenjoying the fruit of his wickedness. She would write to Clearchus andtell him all.
When she had reached this conclusion, she lost no time in carrying itinto execution. But it was long since she had used the stylus and shewas forced to confine herself to the barest outline of what she wishedto say. After many failures, she finally produced the following:--
"Clearchus: Iphicrates has Artemisia in Halicamassus. My husband is abeast who wants to poison me. If you hear that I am dead, you willknow why, and I hope you will see that he is punished. Go toHalicamassus, and when you get her, keep her safe. Iphicrates is awicked man and he should be killed. If my husband does not poison me,make no accusation against him."
Xanthe sealed this letter and hid it away until a chance should offerto send it to her nephew. She felt much easier, as though the factthat she had written it were in some way surety for her safety.Several weeks passed before she found the opportunity for which she hadbeen looking. At last she learned that Callias, son of a widow of heracquaintance, had joined a mercenary troop that was being raised inAthens. She gave the letter to his mother to be delivered to Clearchusin Pella, but Callias, having received part of his pay in advance,could not tear himself away from his friends in Athens until the goldwas spent. Consequently the letter was not delivered until afterMacedon and Persia had met at the Granicus.