Darius, whose naturally mild temper had been overborne by the savage insistence of the Persian nobles, signified assent; and Charondas, who had not been asked to renounce his allegiance, or indeed questioned in any way, did not feel himself constrained in honour to reject the chance of escape.
No one now remained to be dealt with but Charidemus himself, who as the chief in command had been reserved to the last.
“Of what city are you?” asked the king.
“Of Argos,” replied the prisoner, who was certainly glad to be able to make this answer without departing from the truth. To have avowed that he was a Macedonian would probably have sealed his fate at once.
“And your name?”
“Charidemus.”
The king was evidently struck by this answer. Though he had given the order for the execution of the unhappy Athenian whose death has been already related, and, indeed, had been the first to lay hands upon him, the deed had been out of keeping with his character, and he had already repented of it.
“Knew you your namesake of Athens?” he went on.
“I knew him well, my lord. He was the guest-friend of my mother’s father.”
Darius turned round to the Persian noble, a scion of one of the great Seven Houses, who stood behind his seat, and said, “Keep this man safe as you value your own head.”