As he said this, he shifted his position slightly in order to observe the figure of a bearded man that reclined on his elbow almost opposite them, gazing straight into the changing flames. The figure was massive, yet graceful. The curling beard was dark, as were the eyes. His face was that of one used to command. It was cruel, yet in a way strikingly handsome.
This was the man who called himself Donatus and who dared lead his lawless band to the very gates of Athens. Indeed, for all of the price on his head, it was said he often entered the city unaccompanied.
Donatus was a Suliote, at one time a chief, but robbed of his power by the government which refused to recognize his authority and which dispersed and intimidated his followers. In vain he had sought to return to the old ways of living. Being baffled, he became an outlaw indeed, preying on his fellow men. With the exception of Tyrus and Maro, these were his followers.
“I like not that look on his face,” muttered Maro. “I don’t know why I fancy it, but I’ll swear he is thinking of my Flavia this minute.”
“Hush!” cautioned Tyrus, in alarm. “Be careful what you say, if you value your life!”
Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the dark eyes of Donatus were lifted and fastened inquiringly upon them.
“Why speak in whispers, Tyrus, my friend?” he demanded, using the Romaic speech, with which he did not seem wholly familiar. “If you have anything to utter, you need not fear to speak out.”
Instantly Tyrus would have risen, but the chief made a gesture that bade him remain as he was.
“We did not wish to disturb you, chief,” asserted the elder Greek: “It was plain you were buried in thought.”
“I was. I was thinking of my youth and of my home far from this spot. For some time I have longed to return there, Tyrus; but I have not wished to go empty-handed.”
“By the stories they tell of you, you should have riches to-day.”
Donatus made a slight, careless gesture with his hand.
“Who gets money as I have and keeps it?” he said. “It is a desperate and precarious life, Tyrus, and the rewards do not compensate for the dangers. I came to Athens to seek certain men of influence to interpose in my behalf and seek for me a pardon, with the understanding that I should forever abandon the life I have led in recent years. Chance threw me in with you, a friend who once concealed me when armed enemies were close on my track. I promised you then that if the opportunity ever came Donatus would repay the debt. You appealed to me in your distress, saying the Englishmen had stolen your niece.