Where would the Queen go now?  What had become of the magnificent galleys which had accompanied her to the battle?

Even the contrary winds would not have detained them so long, for they were abundantly supplied with rowers.

Had Octavianus taken possession of them?  Were they burned or sunk?

But in that case how had Antony reached Taenarum?

The pirate could give no answer to these questions, which stirred both heart and brain.  Why should he conceal what had reached his ears?

At last Archibius ordered the property stolen from Antony’s ship, and the liberated sailor to be brought on board the Epicurus, but the pirate was obliged to swear not to remain in the waters between Crete and Alexandria.  Then he was suffered to pursue his way unmolested.

This adventure had occupied many hours, and the return against the wind was slow; for, during the chase the Epicurus had been carried by the strong breeze far out to sea.  Yet, when still several miles from the mouth of the harbour at the Pharos, it was evident that the Rhodian helmsman in the island tavern had predicted truly; for the weather changed with unusual speed, and the wind now blew from the north.  The sea fairly swarmed with ships, some belonging to the royal fleet, some to curious Alexandrians, who had sailed out to take a survey.  Archibius and Dion had spent a sleepless night and day.  The heavy air, pervaded by a fine mist, had grown cool.  After refreshing themselves by a repast, they paced up and down the deck of the Epicurus.

Few words were exchanged, and they wrapped their cloaks closer around them.  Both had quaffed large draughts of the fiery wine with which the Epicurus was well supplied, but it would not warm them.  Even the fire, blazing brightly in the richly furnished cabin, could scarcely do so.

Archibius’s thoughts lingered with his beloved Queen, and his vivid power of imagination conjured before his mind everything which could distress her.  No possible chance, not even the most terrible, was forgotten, and when he saw her sinking in the ship, stretching her beautiful arms imploringly towards him, to whom she had so long turned in every perilous position, when he beheld her a captive in the presence of the hostile, cold-hearted Octavianus, the blood seemed to freeze in his veins.  At last he dropped his felt mantle and, groaning aloud, struck his brow with his clenched hand.  He had fancied her walking with gold chains on her slender wrists before the victor’s four-horse chariot, and heard the exulting shouts of the Roman populace.

That would have been the most terrible of all.  To pursue this train of thought was beyond the endurance of the faithful friend, and Dion turned in surprise as he heard him sob and saw the tears which bedewed his face.