The women bathed his forehead with
lavender-water, touching him with their own soft hands. Roxana sang again
to him, a low, crooning song of the fragrant Nile, the lotus bells, the
nodding palms, the perfumed breeze from the desert. Whilst he watched her
through half-closed eyes, the visions of that day of battles left him. He
sat wrapped in a dream world, far from stern realities of men and arms. So
for a while, as he lounged on the divans, following the play of the
torch-light on the face of Roxana as her long fingers plied the strings.
What was it to him if Leonidas fought a losing battle? Was not his
happiness secure--be it in Hellas, or Egypt, or Bactria? He tried to
persuade himself thus. At the end, when he and Roxana stood face to face
for the parting, he violated all Oriental custom, yet he knew her brother
would not be angry. He took her in his arms and gave her kiss for kiss.

Then he went to his own tent to seek rest. But Hypnos did not come for a
long time with his poppies. Once out of the Egyptian's presence the
haunting terror had returned, "Glaucon the Traitor!" Those three words
were always uppermost. At last, indeed, sleep came and as he slept he
dreamed.

CHAPTER XXI

THE THREE HUNDRED--AND ONE

As Glaucon slept he found himself again in Athens. He was on the familiar
way from the cool wrestling ground of the Academy and walking toward the
city through the suburb of Ceramicus. Just as he came to the three tall
pine trees before the gate, after he had passed the tomb of Solon, behold!
a fair woman stood in the path and looked on him. She was beyond mortal
height and of divine beauty, yet a beauty grave and stern. Her gray eyes
cut to his heart like swords. On her right hand hovered a winged Victory,
on her shoulder rested an owl, at her feet twined a wise serpent, in her
left hand she bore the aegis, the shaggy goat-skin engirt with
snakes--emblem of Zeus's lightnings. Glaucon knew that she was Athena
Polias, the Warder of Athens, and lifted his hands to adore her. But she
only looked on him in silent anger. Fire seemed leaping from her eyes. The
more Glaucon besought, the more she turned away. Fear possessed him. "Woe
is me," he trembled, "I have enraged a terrible immortal." Then suddenly
the woman's countenance was changed. The aegis, the serpent, the Victory,
all vanished; he saw Hermione before him, beautiful as on the day she ran