From Taenarus he made his way on foot to Corinth.  Periander was overjoyed to see him once more; and when he marveled at the strange costume in which Arion had traveled, Arion related the whole story.

Periander listened attentively, and, when it was finished, remarked gravely, “Are you then so little satisfied with your victories over the musicians, Arion, that you have determined to be king of story-tellers also?”

“Does your majesty intend to throw doubt on my story?” asked Arion.

“Far be it from me!” answered Periander.  “The story pleases me well, and if you will tell me another such, I will take pains to believe that also.”

“Then Zeus be my witness!  I will find means to prove it,” cried Arion.

“Have I not said that I doubted not?” asked Periander.  “Yet I would gladly see the proof.  My crown to your lute upon the issue!”

“So be it!” said Arion.  “But first I must ask your majesty that none may speak of my return; and when the ship Nausicaa comes to port, let the seamen be dealt with as I shall appoint!”

The king assented laughing, for he deemed the tale impossible.  After some days, however, it was announced that the ship Nausicaa was in the harbor.  Periander summoned the captain and all the crew to the palace, and asked them whether they had brought any news of his minstrel Arion.  The captain replied that men said at Tarentum that Arion was still in Italy, traveling from place to place, and received everywhere with great honor.  The rest of the sailors confirmed the story, and one of them added that Arion was said to prefer Italy to Greece, nor had he any intention of returning to Corinth.

At that moment a curtain was drawn and disclosed Arion, standing in his sacred robes and holding his lute, just as they had seen him last in the prow of the ship.  The sailors, supposing that they beheld his spirit, were seized with terror, and fell at the king’s feet, confessing all their wickedness and begging for mercy.  But Periander was filled with indignation, and spurned them angrily.  Arion interposed, urging the king to be merciful, now that the seamen had seen their wickedness, and were willing to make restitution.  Periander, however, would not hear of mercy.

“Your compassion bears witness to your noble spirit, Arion,” he replied.  “But these men have planned a most cruel and cowardly murder, and cruelly shall they suffer for it.  Seize me these men, guards, and bind them!”

The guards came forward and began to lead away the trembling wretches.

“Stay!” cried Arion.  “It is I who am king.  Did not your majesty stake your crown against my lute, and can the royal word be broken?  Back, guards!  I claim my wager.”

Periander could not refrain from laughter, but confessed himself beaten by this piece of strategy.  “The wit of Arion,” he said, “is stronger than the tears of repentance.  Release the prisoners!”