“It will prove as false as their suspicions about this poor young Lydian.  I know him well, and am very sorry for the poor fellow.  He belongs to one of the richest families in Sardis, and only ran away for fear of the powerful satrap Oroetes, with whom he had had a quarrel.  I’ll tell you the particulars when you come to see me next in Naukratis.  Of course you’ll stay a few days and bring some friends.  My brother has sent me some wine which beats everything I ever tasted.  It’s perfect nectar, and I confess I grudge offering it to any one who’s not, like you, a perfect judge in such matters.”  The Taxiarch’s face brightened up at these words, and grasping Syloson’s hand, he exclaimed.  “By the dog, my friend, we shall not wait to be asked twice; we’ll come soon enough and take a good pull at your wine-skins.  How would it be if you were to ask Archidice, the three flower-sisters, and a few flute-playing-girls to supper?”

     [Archidice—­A celebrated Hetaira of Naukratis mentioned by Herod. 
     II. 135.  Flute-playing girls were seldom missing at the young
     Greeks’ drinking-parties]

“They shall all be there.  By the bye, that reminds me that the flower-girls were the cause of that poor young Lydian’s imprisonment.  Some jealous idiot attacked him before their house with a number of comrades.  The hot-brained young fellow defended himself . . . .”

“And knocked the other down?”

“Yes; and so that he’ll never get up again.”

“The boy must be a good boxer.”

“He had a sword.”

“So much the better for him.”

“No, so much the worse; for his victim was an Egyptian.”

“That’s a bad job.  I fear it can only have an unfortunate end.  A foreigner, who kills an Egyptian, is as sure of death as if he had the rope already round his neck.  However, just now he’ll get a few days’ grace; the priests are all so busy praying for the dying king that they have no time to try criminals.”

“I’d give a great deal to be able to save that poor fellow.  I know his father.”

“Yes, and then after all he only did his duty.  A man must defend himself.”

“Do you happen to know where he is imprisoned?”

“Of course I do.  The great prison is under repair, and so he has been put for the present in the storehouse between the principal guard-house of the Egyptian body-guard and the sacred grove of the temple of Neith.  I have only just come home from seeing them take him there.”

“He is strong and has plenty of courage; do you think he could get away, if we helped him?”

“No, it would be quite impossible; he’s in a room two stories high; the only window looks into the sacred grove, and that, you know, is surrounded by a ten-foot wall, and guarded like the treasury.  There are double sentries at every gate.  There’s only one place where it is left unguarded during the inundation season, because, just here, the water washes the walls.  These worshippers of animals are as cautious as water-wagtails.”