Shorn of their chief, the fury of the Bactrians ceased, and, fearing the day was lost, they wheeled and sought for safety in retreat. The mountaineers of Naïri barred their path, but were ridden down as an east wind sweeps a lake, though many a horse and rider fell before their spears. Upward the Bactrians toiled, with Ninus and his riders hacking at their heels, till the mountain top was reached, and a beaten army fled like foxes to the plains below. Their King had made a valiant cast for victory, yet Ninus stood, a conqueror, on the spine of Hindu-Kush.
And now came a swarm of fighting-men from out the bloody pass—exulting horsemen, shouting charioteers, Menon and his men-at-arms who had run throughout the night to shield the glory of Assyria and the glory of Assyria's King.
The eyes of the monarch fell upon the Prince of Naïri who strode toward him through the throng, and his heart grew warm with the old, strong love that slumbered, but had not died. He was fain to forget the follies of this youth, to take the hands of Menon into his own and lay them against his breast; yet the smile of a sudden faded from his lips, his brow grew clouded, and his outstretched arms sank slowly to his sides. On the tongues of the multitudes a shout arose—a shout that rolled across the trembling hills till its echoes bounded back from a thousand crags; and the name it roared was not the name of Assyria's lord, but Menon! MENON!—and the King grew cold in wrath. A serpent of jealousy had coiled about his heart, and, striking, stung it to its core.
"How now!" he demanded. "What manner of craft be this which bringeth thee upon my heels? Perchance, when silent in our council tent, thou knewest of this peril in our path, yet spoke no word, in the hope of profit to thyself."
"Nay, lord," answered Menon, humbly, while he looked into his master eyes; "too late to warn thee I learned from a captured spy of this trap beyond the pass, so I hastened by a shorter path across the hills, with as great a force as I dare detach from the army left on guard."
"A likely tale!" the angry monarch scoffed, though he knew in his heart that Menon spoke the truth. "Go back to my wagon-trains which are left as a tempting bait to our watchful foes! And mark thou this," he cried as he clenched his fist, "bring down my stores and my engines of war unharmed before the walls of Zariaspa, or account to Ninus for a trust betrayed!"
Prince Menon flushed, then paled again as he strove to hold an eager tongue in bounds.
"So be it," he answered, haughtily, and turned upon his heel; but Ninus called him back, for it came to him that his words were hasty and hurtful to the minds of those who heard.
"What wilt thou," he asked, "in payment of thy deed? Where Assyria oweth, there Assyria will pay, nor boggle at the price. What, then, wilt thou have at the hands of Assyria's King?"
"Naught," said Menon, looking on his master with a level gaze. "There are mongers of fish who hawk their wares in the open market-place. A warrior may buy; but a warrior selleth not—even to Assyria's lord."