Zopyrus nodded, then as the two resumed their nocturnal promenade he related to the interested philosopher in detail, trying not to reveal his identity, the facts of his meeting with the girl upon whom he had not laid eyes for a year. After his narration had been concluded he was conscious of the fixed gaze of his companion upon him.
“Zopyrus,” said Aeschylus, “I have decided to begin work on a tragedy which will present the Persian point of view and especially that of the royal family in this war, I would be very grateful would you acquaint me with many details of life at Susa.”
Zopyrus was startled. Had his words or manner of speech betrayed him to the friend whom above all others he esteemed most highly? It was apparent that even if Aeschylus did know him to be a Persian by birth, he was neither rebuking nor condemning him for that fact, but rather was he mildly assuring him that his birth need be no detriment to him in his present surroundings. Zopyrus believed that Aeschylus was convinced of his sincerity in the present interests of Greece.
“I shall be pleased to assist you in your great work,” he replied in a quiet tone. “Having spent a few months out of each year at the Persian court, I should know something of the Persian view-point.”
“Were you a servant or a member of the nobility?” questioned the poet quickly.
“Must I tell you that?” asked the younger man.
“I should like to know.”
“Very well, I am a cousin of king Xerxes. My father was satrap of Sardis and an own brother of Darius Hystaspis.”
The older man turned quickly and his brow clouded as he cried:—
“What do you mean by parading in Greek clothes and looking with love upon a maiden of Hellas? Think you that a pure lovely girl of our land would return the affections of a cousin of the profligate Xerxes?”