CHAPTER XV
THAIS AND ARTEMISIA
Through her window in the house of Iphicrates in Halicarnassus,Artemisia could see the blue waters of the harbor and beyond them themassive gray walls of the Royal Citadel. For weeks she had watched themerchant ships coming and going, bringing their freights from Tyre andEgypt and even from beyond the Pillars of Heracles, and many times hadher eyes filled with tears at the thought that perhaps one or anotherof them might be bound for the Piraeus. She imagined Clearchusquestioning the master and the sailors on their arrival at the port ofAthens, seeking to learn from them whether they had seen in theirwanderings the ship that had borne her away.
At times her sorrow was made more bitter by doubts that forcedthemselves upon her mind in spite of her repeated resolve not to admitthem. They whispered that Clearchus had given her up for lost and hadforgotten her. Perhaps at first, they said, he had been eager in hissearch; but when all his efforts were in vain and he could find notrace of her, he had become gradually resigned to her loss, occupied ashe was with the cares of his estate. Why else had he paid no heed toher letters?
When such evil ideas tormented her, Artemisia could no longer endurethe sight of the glancing sails and the quivering waters of the harbor.She hid her face in her hands and her embroidery slipped unheeded tothe floor.
But always she put the black thoughts from her and turned again to herfaith in her lover. He was brave and true. It could not be that hehad forgotten. It must be that her letters had never reached him.Then she pictured him wandering in distant lands in search of her, orsailing from city to city in hope of finding the men who had taken heraway. When in this mood, she would watch every sail as it emerged fromthe misty distance in the belief that it might be bringing him to herat last. But as the days went by her cheeks lost their roundness andshadows darkened beneath her eyes. Her gaze grew more wistful andunconsciously more hopeless as she looked out upon the harbor, and moreand more her hands lay idle in her lap.
Day after day her thoughts trod the same round. "He will come to-day,"she said to herself in the morning. "Surely, to-day he is coming."Her pulses quickened at every footfall, and she started at everystrange voice. When twilight fell and he had not come she whispered toherself: "He will come to-morrow!" but to-morrow faded into yesterdayand he came not.
Gradually her gentle spirit lost its courage and its hope under therepeated buffets of disappointment. She drooped like a flower whoseroots can find no water, and even her nightly prayer to Artemis, theVirgin Goddess, failed at last to bring peace to her troubled mind.
One morning she was aroused from the lethargy into which she had fallenby a change in the scene with which she had become so monotonouslyfamiliar. Instead of the usual merchant ships, the harbor was filledwith warlike vessels with brazen beaks and banks of oars on eitherside. The wharves were covered with soldiers in armor. Hundreds ofmen were unloading bales and boxes which were being carried to theAcropolis, to the Citadel of Salmacis, or to the Royal Citadel.
The streets were filled with strange men, some of them wearing cloaksof gay color, with plumed helmets, others in shining coats of mail,with swords at their sides. Throughout the city rose the hum ofactivity and the bustle of preparation. Artemisia, ignorant of theinvasion of Alexander, wondered what the reason could be. She imaginedthat the barbarians might be planning another attack upon Greece, andshe reflected that this might bring Clearchus into danger. All herthoughts and all her hopes centred in him.
In the midst of her conjectures some one knocked at her door. She hadfound it necessary to keep it fastened as a precaution against theunexpected entrances of Iphicrates. He came into the room with a smileon his fat face, glancing furtively from side to side out of hisrestless little eyes, which always reminded her of the eyes of a pig.He sat down wheezing from the exertion of his climb. His neck carrieda triple roll of fat at the back and his bullet head looked like a mereknob affixed to the shapeless mass of his body.
Artemisia attributed to his unfortunate physical appearance thenameless aversion that she felt for him, and she sought to overcome it,for he had always been considerate of her.
"City is full of soldiers," he gasped, wiping his forehead.
"Is there to be war?" Artemisia asked.
"They say Alexander will try to cross the Hellespont," he replied,attempting a shrug.
"And will he come here?" she inquired.
He caught the eagerness in her voice and his eyes grew cunning amongtheir wrinkles. "Perhaps," he replied. "Who can tell? These Asiaticdogs laugh at him, but they may find themselves mistaken. We Greeksknow how to fight."
"Why are they sending their army here?" she persisted.
"It is Memnon of Rhodes," he told her. "He is a great general, but thePersians do not trust him. He is on his way to the north with histroops."
"Can you not send me back to Athens before the war begins?" Artemisiapleaded.
"My dear child," he exclaimed with a gesture of despair, "it isimpossible. All my plans have failed. The war has already begun. ThePersian fleet holds the sea, and if you attempted to leave now, youwould be captured and sold as a slave. You know how I have tried togrant your wish. Only yesterday I thought that at last I had found thevessel for which I had been looking, and I had hoped to earn yourgratitude. But now--all is at an end while the war lasts. If theyoverthrow the Macedonians in the north, it will be short."
"I do not wish it," Artemisia said decisively. "I prefer to remainhere. I hope that Alexander will win, and when he comes, I shall befree."
"You are free now," Iphicrates said reproachfully. "You know that Ihave kept you in seclusion only for your own safety and that I havedone all I could do to console you."
"Yes, yes; I know," she replied hastily. "I have no complaint to makeagainst you. You have tried to be kind."
"If the Macedonians should come after all, you may be able to repayme," Iphicrates continued, reaching the real purpose of his visit. "Intime of war men are likely to judge hastily, and it may be that oldIphicrates will have to look to you for protection as you have lookedto him."
"What have you to fear?" Artemisia asked in surprise. "And why do youthink that I may be able to protect you?"
"It is possible that some of your countrymen may be with the army," hereplied evasively. "But they may not come here, even if they win inthe north."
He rose with some difficulty from his chair. "Is there anything youwant?" he inquired. "You know that if I can give it to you, you haveonly to ask."
"There is nothing," Artemisia said, and the mockery of her answerstruck her to the heart.
Artemisia's mind was diverted for a time by the activity in the city,which seemed at least to portend a change; but soon the novelty woreoff, and although the soldiers did not go away, she fell once more intothe listless mood against which she found it so difficult to struggle.
When she least expected it, the change came. A disturbance arose inthe narrow street before the house which led up from the harbor. Therewas a medley of cries and shouting, and Artemisia, leaning from herwindow, saw the street below her filled with a throng of men who hadmet in conflicting currents at the turn of the way. In the midst ofthe press lay a litter, whose gilded frame was curtained with crimsonsilk. It had been overturned by collision with a chariot in which oneof the generals had been proceeding toward the harbor. Beside thelitter Artemisia saw the form of a young woman. Her robe was ofshimmering saffron, and her copper-colored hair, broken from its coil,lay spread upon the pavement.
While she looked, the general, whose chariot had been the cause of themishap, descended and stood beside the prostrate figure. Glancingabout him in evident embarrassment, his eyes met her own as she leanedfrom the casement. Brief as the meeting was, she felt the piercingpower and directness of his glance. He turned quickly to his escortand gave a brief command, motioning toward the house of Iphicrates ashe spoke. As he resumed his place in his chariot, the soldiers liftedthe
unconscious woman into the litter and bore it to the door of thehouse, followed by a curious crowd.
Artemisia heard them enter and the sound of voices, among which sherecognized that of Iphicrates raised in whining protest.
"I have no room for her here," he cried.
"Then you will make room," was the rough reply. "It is Memnon whogives the order, do you understand? He directed that the young womanwho lives here should care for her. Where is she?"
"There is no young woman here," Iphicrates replied glibly. "Thegeneral must have been mistaken."
"Lying will not help you," the soldier replied. "I saw her myself.Call her quickly if you want to save your skin."
Artemisia did not wait to be summoned. She descended the stairs andwent in among the soldiers.
"Carry her to the room above, and I will see that she is cared for,"she said quietly.
The young captain to whom the execution of Memnon's order had beenentrusted looked at her with frank admiration.
"By Zeus!" he said, "I wish I had been run over myself. Take her up,litter and all," he added to his men, "and be quick about it."
With some difficulty the soldiers carried the litter with its burden upthe staircase.
"If he makes any trouble for you on account of this, report it to thegeneral," the captain said to Artemisia, indicating Iphicrates with anod. "And tell her when she recovers," he continued, nodding towardthe litter, "that Memnon desired to express his regrets."
Without waiting for an answer, he wheeled and tramped down the stairs,followed by his men. Artemisia was already bending over the youngwoman. There was a bruise where the back of her head had struck thepavement, but otherwise she seemed to have escaped unhurt. Herwonderfully thick hair had evidently broken the force of the blow. Sherecovered her senses at the first touch of the cold water with whichArtemisia bathed her temples.
"Where am I?" she asked, opening her eyes.
"You are safe and with friends," Artemisia assured her.
"Am I much hurt?" she asked, without attempting to move.
"I think not," Artemisia said. "Your head is bruised."
"Is my face scarred?" was the next question.
"It is not even scratched," Artemisia replied, smiling.
The strange woman's lips parted in a responsive smile. "Then it mighthave been worse," she said.
With Artemisia's assistance she walked to a couch, where the young girlmade her comfortable with pillows. Presently, under Artemisia'sministrations, she fell asleep. Artemisia sat watching her evenbreathing and wondering who she could be. A great ruby flamed upon herfinger, and heavy chains of gold encircled her white throat. Her tinyfeet were shod with silken sandals and her yellow chiton disclosed therounded grace of her delicate limbs and the willowy suppleness of herfigure. She must be some great lady, in spite of her youth, Artemisiathought, innocently, and she felt drawn to her in a manner that shehardly understood. If only she would stay, she would be a friend inwhom confidence might be placed and whose sympathy would be a help.But of course she would go away as soon as she was able to move.Artemisia sighed in her loneliness.
When the stranger woke, however, she seemed in no hurry to go. Shedeclared that the pain in her head had left her, and, turning lazily onher side, she studied her surroundings.
"Whose house is this?" she asked.
"It belongs to Iphicrates," Artemisia said.
"To Iphicrates?" the strange woman replied with sudden interest and inevident astonishment. "And--are you his daughter?"
"No; I am of Athens; my name is Artemisia," the girl replied.
Her companion's head fell back among the pillows and her gaze restedupon Artemisia's face. So intent was the look that Artemisia grewuncomfortable under it.
"Why do you look at me so strangely?" she asked at last.
"Pardon me," the other replied, letting her eyes fall. "I have heardof you."
"Then you, too, are of Athens?" the girl cried joyfully, throwingherself on her knees beside the couch and taking the strange woman'shand. "You have heard of Clearchus? Is he--living?"
"He is living, and he loves thee," the stranger replied, as thoughreading what was in her mind.
A great gladness rushed through Artemisia's being. An immeasurableload was suddenly lifted from her heart. She put her face down uponthe edge of the couch and wept for sheer gratitude. The strange womansaid nothing, but her hand rested lightly on the soft brown hair, andshe stroked the bent head with gentle fingers.
The door opened without noise, and the bulk of Iphicrates advancedgradually into the room. As his cunning eyes took in the scene beforehim an anxious look overspread his face.
"I came to see if you were better," he muttered, in a tone of apology.
The strange woman raised her body slightly on the couch and extendedher hand toward the door.
"Go!" she said briefly.
Iphicrates hesitated and cleared his throat, trying to meet thescornful gaze directed upon him. Finally he mustered up his couragewith an effort.
"This is my house," he said doggedly.
"Go," the stranger repeated in a tone of unutterable contempt. "Must Ispeak again?"
Iphicrates slowly turned and went, slinking from the room before theblaze of her anger like a beaten hound.
"Why are you so hard upon him?" Artemisia asked.
"Because he deserves it," the stranger said. "Has he not held youcaptive here?"
"Who art thou who knowest so much of my affairs?" the girl demandedsuddenly.
"I am thy--" The word "sister" trembled upon her tongue, but shechecked it. "I am thy protectress," she said. "Men call me Thais."
A blush rose to her cheek as she uttered the name and felt the clearblue eyes of the young girl upon her own.
"Thais?" Artemisia repeated, searching in her memory. "I have heardthe name in Athens, but I forget when and where. I think they said youwere beautiful, and indeed you are."
"Is that all they said of me?" Thais returned.
"I think that is all; I do not remember more," Artemisia replied.
Thais felt relieved. Her sister would learn soon enough who and whatshe was. She hoped that when the knowledge came Artemisia would loveher enough to grant her forgiveness. She had broken with her old life.Why drag it with her wherever she went?
"Why did you come here?" Artemisia continued.
"I came in search of you, and the Gods have given you to me," Thaissaid.
Artemisia nestled beside her companion on the broad couch while Thaistold her of all that had happened in Athens since she had been carriedaway by Syphax and his crew. In her narration she omitted the feast inthe house of Clearchus and passed lightly over details that might havegiven Artemisia a clew to her identity. She described Clearchus'despair at her loss and his vain effort to find some trace of her. Shetold how he had consulted the oracle and of her own adventure in Thebeswhen Chares had given his fortune to save her from Phradates. Then theyoung men had joined the army and left her alone in Athens.
"Chares consented that I should meet him here," she went on. "He saidthat women would not be allowed to follow the army to its first battle.It is there the greatest danger lies; for if they win there, they willhold all the western provinces of the Persian empire."
"And if they lose?" Artemisia asked anxiously.
"If they lose," Thais replied slowly, "then we shall return to Athens.But they will not. The Gods are faithful to their promises. I hadintended to wait until the battle had been fought, but Mena, the samewho set Phradates upon me in Thebes, found me out. From him Idiscovered that you were here in the care of Iphicrates, and I came."
Artemisia kissed her. "I would have died if you had not come," shesaid simply. "But how did Mena know where I was?"
"He would not tell me and I did not wait to learn," Thais said.
"Will he not find out where you have gone and inform Phradates?" theyoung girl suggested. "Would it not be better to leave this house
andconceal ourselves somewhere?"
"I have thought of that," Thais replied. "I cannot leave the city,since I am to meet Chares here; and if we were to go to some otherhouse, Iphicrates would know where we were. The Rhodian general sentme here and Iphicrates fears me. As for Phradates," Thais smiledslightly, "we need not try to avoid him, for he loves me. He is myslave."
"Do you love Chares much?" Artemisia asked.
Thais threw her arms around her and crushed her in a fierce embrace."Love him!" she cried. "To the last drop of my blood--in every fibreof my body! He is my God! If I lay dead before him, my eyes would seehim, as they do now."
"I think you love him as much as I love Clearchus, only differently,"Artemisia said. "Does he love you?"
"As much as he can," Thais replied. "There will always be more of theboy than the man in him; but he loves me more than any other."
Thais rose and went to the litter, where, from its hiding place amongthe cushions, she drew forth a bag of leather which she emptied uponthe couch. Artemisia uttered a cry of delight. Rubies, emeralds,diamonds, sapphires, and gems of turquoise lay spread before her in aglittering heap.
"There is our fortune," Thais said. "We shall not want, at least forthe present."