CHAPTER III
ARISTON LAYS A PLOT
Ariston, uncle of Clearchus and formerly guardian of his fortune, satat his work-table before a mass of papyri closely written withmemoranda and accounts. His house stood by itself in a quarter of thecity that had once been fashionable but now was occupied chiefly by thepoorer class of citizens. Its front was without windows and its stonewalls were yellowed and stained with age. Its seclusion seemed to beemphasized by the bustle of life that surrounded it and in which it hadno part.
The room in which Ariston sat was evidently used as an office, for rowsof metal-bound boxes of various shapes and sizes were piled along itswalls. A statuette of Hermes stood in one corner upon its pedestal,and its sightless eyes seemed bent upon the thin, gray face of the oldman as he leaned with his elbows upon the top of the table, polished bylong use. Lines of care and anxiety showed themselves at the cornersof his mouth and about his restless eyes. The light of the swinginglamp that illuminated the small room, even in the daytime, made shadowyhollows at his temples and beneath his cheek-bones.
Little was known of the personal concerns of the old man in Athens.Although he mingled with the other citizens without apparent reserve,he never discussed his own affairs. The general impression was that hewas a good Athenian who had been faithful to the trust reposed in him,and who had won a modest competence of his own for the support of hisage. This idea was encouraged by the parsimonious habits of his lifeand by the trifling but cautious ventures that he sometimes made in thecommercial activity of the city. His most conspicuous characteristic,in the minds of his acquaintances, was his mania for gatheringinformation concerning not only Athens and Greece, but distant landsand strange peoples as well. This was looked upon as a harmless andeven useful occupation, and it accounted for his evident fondness attimes for the company of strangers, who, no doubt, contributed to thesatisfaction of his curiosity.
Great would have been the astonishment if some orator had announced tothe Athenian Assembly that the humble old man was really one of therichest citizens of Athens, as well as the best informed concerning theplans and hopes of the rulers of the world and of the probable currentof coming events. Laughter would have greeted the assertion that muchof the merchandise which found its way to the Piraeus belonged to himand that the profits realized from the sale of silks and spices, cornand ivory, went into his coffers. Yet these statements would have beentrue a year before. In Athens the rich were required to contribute tothe public charges in proportion to their wealth, and the saving thatAriston was able to effect by making his investments abroad andconcealing them through various stratagems from the knowledge of hisneighbors was sufficient, in his opinion, to compensate him for thetrouble and the risks that such a course involved. He would ratherhave suffered his fingers to be hacked off one by one than part withthe heavy, shining bars of gold that his prudence and foresight hadamassed.
If the history of each separate coin and bar could have been told, itwould have revealed secrets which their master had forced himself toforget. Some of them were the price of flesh and blood; some had beengained by violence upon the seas or among the trackless wastes of thedesert; some had been won at the expense of honor and truth; for in hisearlier years Ariston had been both bold and unscrupulous in hiscunning, and his craving for riches had always been insatiable. As hisyears and his wealth increased he became more circumspect andconservative. He even sought to expiate some of his earlier faults byfurtive sacrifices to the Gods, and especially to Hermes, whose imagehe cherished.
But the Gods had turned their faces from him, and his repentance, ifrepentance it could be called, had been unavailing. Misfortune hadcome upon him, and calamity seemed always to be lying in wait for him.If his vessels put to sea, they were sunk in storms or captured bypirates. His factories and warehouses were burned; his caravans werelost; his debtors defaulted; and if he purchased a cargo of corn, itsprice at the Piraeus was certain to be less than the price he had paidfor it in the Hellespont. One after another the precious bars whichhad cost him so much to obtain were sent to save doubtful ventures andlosing investments, until at last all were gone. Sitting in his dingyroom, on the day of the arrival of Chares and Leonidas at the house ofClearchus, he was at last in a worldly sense what his neighbors thoughthim to be; and the marble face of Hermes, with its painted eyes, smiledmalignly at him from its corner.
But there was still hope left to him. Although the widespread web ofhis enterprises had been rent and torn by misfortune, there yetremained enough to build upon securely if he had but a few more of theyellow bars to tide over his present distress. Without them he mightkeep afloat for a few months longer; but the end would be utter ruin.At least he still owned the great dyeing establishment in Tyre, whichhad never failed to yield him a handsome revenue. He recalled how hehad taken it from Cepheus for one-fourth its real value. It was noconcern of his that Cepheus had stolen it from young Phradates. Whatdid the details of the transaction matter now, since they were knownonly to himself and to Cepheus, who would not be likely to reveal them,and to Mena the Egyptian, the young man's steward? Mena had stolen somuch himself from the spendthrift that he would never dare to tell whathe knew. And yet the fellow had it in his power to rob Ariston of thelast remnant of his fortune.
A discreet knock interrupted Ariston's reflections. He brushed hisparchments and papyri hastily into an open box that stood beside hischair and closed the lid. "Enter!" he commanded.
An aged slave opened the door. "Mena, of Tyre," he said.
Cold sweat broke out on Ariston's forehead, but he gave no outward signof his consternation. "Bring him hither," he directed.
The Egyptian, who had been watching the sluggish goldfish floating inthe weed-grown cistern of the court, entered the room with an air ofimportance. He turned his alert face, with its sharp, inquiringfeatures, upon Ariston.
"Greeting!" he said, extending his hand. "It is long since we haveseen thee in Tyre."
"Yes," Ariston replied, leading him to a seat opposite his own, "I amgetting too old for travel."
"You have indeed grown older since I saw you last," Mena said, lookingat him attentively. "I hope it is not because Fortune has been unkind."
Ariston winced, and the change in his expression was not lost upon theshrewd Egyptian.
"What brings you here?" he asked, shifting the subject.
"We are travelling, my beloved master and I," Mena answered.
"Phradates is with you, then?" the old man asked with an alarm that hewas unable to conceal.
The steward paused before he answered, gazing at Ariston with eyes halfclosed and a faint smile upon his lips.
"Phradates is here," he said at last. "I know of what you arethinking. We have been friends too long to have secrets from eachother. You need have no fear. Cepheus is dead and I have too manycauses to despise Phradates to take his part."
He paused again and suddenly his face became convulsed with a spasm ofhatred.
"I could strangle him!" he cried, clenching his hands as though he felthis master's throat beneath his fingers.
Ariston breathed more freely. At any rate, his property in Tyre wassafe.
"Why don't you do it, then?" he asked coolly.
"Because the time has not yet come!" Mena replied fiercely. "For everyinsult that he has given me and for every blow that he has made mefeel, he shall suffer tenfold! His fortune is dwindling, and in theend it will be mine. Then let him ask Mena for aid!"
"I did not know that you had so much courage," Ariston remarked.
"I have not watched you in vain," Mena replied, "and it is to you thatI now come for assistance."
"To me!" Ariston exclaimed.
"To you," Mena repeated. "Be not alarmed, for what I have to proposewill be for our mutual benefit. Phradates has been throwing moneyright and left since we set out from Tyre. Great sums he spent inCrete and still greater in Corinth. Since his arrival here he has beenfleeced without mercy. Y
ou will understand that I have tried toprotect him, but merely to save him from injury. He might have losthis life only this morning had I not been there to guard him from anattack by two desperate characters with a crowd of slaves, who set uponus while we were returning from the dice. Luckily, I succeeded inbeating them off, but the noble Phradates was thrown from his chair andhis noble nose was battered. Soon he will be in want of more money.Of the property that remains to him, he has quarries on Lebanon, whichemploy a thousand slaves, silk mills in Old Tyre, where as many moreare kept busy, and a score of ships in the trade with Carthage. Hebelieves the value of the quarries and the mills to be only half whatit really is and reports have been made to him that two-thirds of thevessels of his fleet have been lost. All this he will pledge foranything that it will bring when he learns that his money is gone. Itis for us to get possession of that pledge. I have a few talents, butnot enough. I will take care that the loan is never repaid and oursuccess is certain. What do you say?"
Ariston looked at the statue of Hermes. It was a fancy of his that hecould draw either a favorable or an adverse augury from the expressionon the face of the God as it showed in the wavering light of the lamp.He could detect no change in the mocking smile that seemed to hoverabout the marble lips. It left him with no conclusion.
"What you have told me," he said to Mena, "makes it necessary for me totell you something in return. I am a ruined man."
"Ruined! You!" Mena exclaimed incredulously.
"It is true," Ariston replied. "Of all that I had, nothing remains tome intact except the dye-house in Tyre and a small fleet of corn shipsthat has but now arrived from the Euxine. The worst is that I havedebts that must be met if I am to save other ventures."
"But you have the property of your nephew to draw upon," Mena suggested.
"I had it," the old man said, "but it was turned over to him more thana year ago. Since then all my losses have befallen."
"But you are his heir," the Egyptian replied meaningly. "Is hemarried?"
"No; but he soon will be," Ariston replied.
The two men exchanged glances, reading each other's thoughts in theireyes. Neither cared to put into words what was in his mind.
"Leave it to me," Ariston said at last. "I think it can be managed.Clearchus knows nothing of my affairs, and if I can once more getcontrol of the property all will be well. I think we may safely assumethat he will not marry. For the rest, we must wait and see. Let ustalk of this pledge that Phradates is to make for our security."
He produced his tablets and a stylus and the conspirators were soonburied in a mass of calculations. When Mena took his leave, everydetail had been arranged.
Hardly had Mena disappeared in the direction of the Agora when a man ofunusual stature, with brawny arms and a heavy black beard, turned intothe street in which Ariston lived and stood staring doubtfully abouthim. There was a hint of the sea in his sunburned face and roughgarments.
"If you are looking for the Piraeus, my friend, you will not find ithere," said a fruit dealer who chanced to meet him.
"What do you know of the Piraeus, grasshopper?" returned the stranger,halting and looking at the merchant with contempt. "I am searching forthe house of Ariston, son of Xenas. Do you know where in this accursedstreet it is?"
"Tut, tut; fair words, my friend," the merchant replied, carefullykeeping his distance. "What do you want with Ariston?"
"That is his affair and mine, but not yours," growled the stranger.
"I'll warrant it is nothing good," the fruit dealer said, "but you willfind his house at the end of the street, near the wall."
Without stopping to thank him, the stranger strode on in the directionthat he had indicated. The merchant stood for a moment gazing afterhim, wondering whence he came and what he wanted; but finding no answerto these questions in his own mind, he shook his head like a man who isassured of the existence of something that should not be and continuedon his way to his shop in the Agora to relate his suspicions.
Ariston himself came to the door in response to the stranger's knock.He was admitted at once and without a word. Ariston led him in silenceto his own room and seated him in the chair that Mena had occupied halfan hour before. Instead of summoning a slave, the old man went himselfto fetch a flask of wine and a trencher of bread and cheese.
"Can it be done?" he asked in an eager voice, leaning forward in hisfavorite attitude with his elbows on the table while the other ate anddrank.
"It can be done, but it will not be easy," his guest replied.
"Not easy to carry off a woman who has only slaves to guard her?"Ariston exclaimed. "Are your men cowards, then, Syphax?"
"No, my men and I are not cowards, old Skinflint," Syphax said, "butyou may as well understand now that we do not intend to risk our livesfor nothing."
He delivered this speech with the blustering air of a bully, gazingboldly into the old man's face. Ariston, naturally of small stature,looked more than ever shrunken and withered in contrast with hiscompanion; but at the sound of the other's threatening tone, his facehardened and there came a cold gleam into his eyes.
"I am glad you are not afraid, Syphax," he said in a voice so soft thatit sounded almost caressing. "Have you forgotten Medon? Your eyes sawhis death. He was a brave man, too, your old chief. I think I canhear him yet as he called upon the Gods in his torture. They could nothelp him. Poor Medon!"
The face of Syphax paled under its tan at the recollection that Aristonhad conjured up and an involuntary shudder ran through him. His boldeyes wavered before the persistent stare of the little old man, whom hecould have crushed in one of his hands.
"What are you willing to pay?" he asked hoarsely, pushing away his foodhalf finished.
"You would do it for nothing, if I asked you, Syphax," the old manreplied, still in the same soft voice, "but I have no wish to be hardwith you. This is a matter in which I have a deep interest and I amwilling to pay well for it. When you have taken her safely on board,you will sail to Halicarnassus, where you will search out Iphicrates,son of Conon, and give him this letter. If he finds you have done yourwork well, he will pay you a talent in silver. But if the girl hasbeen harmed in any way, not a drachma will you get and worse willbefall you than befell Medon."
"The work is worth five times as much," Syphax grumbled with downcasteyes, "but I suppose I have no choice."
"None, my dear Syphax, and I am a poor man," said Ariston. "Let usregard the matter as settled. Now, how do you intend to proceed?"
Syphax roused himself like a man whose professional skill has beencalled upon.
"The house stands thus," he said, indicating its position on the tablewith a huge finger. "On this side is the grove where I and a dozen ofmy men will lie hidden with the litter. One of my fellows will scalethe roof and let himself down inside. He will open the door to us andthe thing will be over in a moment."
"Where will you embark?" the old man asked, nodding approval.
"My ship will be lying off-shore with a boat in waiting. We will carryher in the litter to this spot, about two stadia beyond the Piraeus,which we shall have to pass. We shall make the attack soon after themiddle watch of the night when the moon will be low."
"You should have been a general, Syphax," the old man said. "You havea better head for strategy than most of those the Athenians employ. Goto your work and forget nothing. I must attend the Assembly, whereDemosthenes is to stir up the citizens against Alexander, son ofPhilip. They say the boy is dead."
"Alexander dead!" Syphax exclaimed.
"The story is that he was killed by the Illyrians, and Demosthenes hasa man who saw him die," Ariston replied indifferently. "I think theman is lying and that Demosthenes knows it. But these affairs havenothing to do with you. Be off to your business."
When the adventurer had gone, Ariston returned to his room and preparedto write. From his expression of content, it was evident that he wassatisfied with what had been done.
/> "To Iphicrates, son of Conon," his letter ran. "I am sending to youSyphax, a freebooter from Rhodes, who will deliver to you a youngwoman. You will take her into your house and guard her with care untilyou hear from me again. Syphax will present to you an order for atalent of silver. Defer the payment until you have the girl, and thendo with him as you will. As a pirate and a robber, he has richlymerited death. May the Gods protect you."
As Ariston was carefully sealing this letter, a gaunt, sour-visagedwoman entered the room. She was his wife and the one person on earthin whom he had confidence. Like most secretive men with whom duplicityis a daily study, he sometimes felt the need of telling the truth, ifonly to note the effect of his schemes upon another's mind. But evento his wife, whose covetousness was equal to his own, he never revealedall that was in his brain. Her lonely life was spent in a constantendeavor to piece out from what he imparted to her the full extent ofhis plans. She admired his intellect, but deep in her heart she fearedhim, and, womanlike, she was tormented by the suspicion that somewhereshe had a rival to whom he told what he concealed from her. Theconsciousness of her own deficiency of charms made her manner all themore harsh and forbidding. As soon as she entered the room she notedthat he was in an easy mood, and she made haste to take advantage of it.
"Who were these men?" she asked. "What are you about now?"
"Affairs of state, Xanthe, that are not for women to know," he saidmockingly.
"All that concerns you concerns me," she replied. "Am I to do the workof a slave here like a mole in the dark? Who are these women you weretalking of with that evil-looking man?"
"So you were listening!" Ariston said with a frown.
"Yes, I was, if you must know it," Xanthe said defiantly. "Do youthink I am to know nothing? If you had consulted more freely with mebefore, we would not now be the paupers that we are, and many times Ihave told you this, but you will not listen to me because I am a woman."
There was something in this remonstrance that made an impression uponAriston's mind, smarting as he was over the loss of his fortune. Itmight have been better, after all, if he had told her more.
"We were talking of only one woman," he said, with an impulse offrankness. "She is Artemisia."
"Artemisia!" Xanthe exclaimed. "Don't try to deceive me. Why shouldyou wish Artemisia to be carried off? Is not Clearchus to make her hiswife?"
"It is for that very reason," Ariston replied. "I do not wish him todo so."
"Why not?" Xanthe demanded in a tone of suspicion.
"Sit down and let us talk rationally," Ariston said. "Suppose theymarry and have children. His property would be lost to us forever."
"That is true," Xanthe assented. "I had not thought of that, and weneed it so much more than he. If he should die, would it belong to us?"
"It would," her husband answered, "and now you know why I wish toprevent the marriage."
He rose, and she aided him to adjust the folds of his himation.
"I am going to the Assembly," he said. "If we have war with Macedon,the price of corn will advance. Look to the house and let none enterwhile I am away."
It was not until after he had gone that Xanthe began to wonder how sheand Ariston were to profit by preventing the marriage, since theirnephew would still be alive and in the possession of his property. Itcould not be that Ariston intended to have him slain. She shuddered atthe thought, for she was fond of Clearchus, and he had always been kindto her. Besides, such a crime could not be committed without almostcertain detection. Ariston must have formed some other scheme forbringing about his object. She reproached herself for not havingquestioned him on this point while he was in a frame of mind to answer.The opportunity might not occur again and she could only guess at whatwas to come. The half-confidence that he had given her left her morewatchful and suspicious than ever.
Syphax meantime had found his way back to the Agora and was about toenter a wine-shop when he felt some one pluck him by the elbow.Glancing back, his eyes met those of Mena.
"Ah, my fox," he exclaimed, "what brings you to Athens?"
"Necessity and my master," Mena replied. "And you?"
Syphax shook his head and made as if to move away, but Mena was not tobe denied. An hour later they were still together, sitting side byside in a corner of the wine-shop, and it was fortunate for Aristonthat the Egyptian was his ally instead of his enemy, for all thatSyphax could tell, he knew.