"Up in these mountains," he said kindly, "we are no longer lord and servant, but true comrades and brother hunters of the wood. That is why I love to come here. But we all take our share of sport and danger alike. Wherefore did you not tell me you were unarmed? Had my foot slipped on that strip of turf, you would have found yourself in no maiden's embrace, my friend; and stout as you are, yonder, I think, lies a better wrestler than you."
"It was for his servant to follow where my lord led," answered Sarchedon modestly; adding, with the inborn pride of his nation, "The sons of Ashur are little given to fear; but if a man lacked courage, he might borrow all he needed from such an example as is afforded by my lord the king."
"Nay, my friend," replied Aryas, laughing, "I have no such superfluity to lavish, for I see my danger clearly when I confront it. Nevertheless, where there is no fear there is no courage, as there can be no fortitude where there is no pain. But I will not suffer my followers to risk life for my amusement; and when we reach the dark forest you see yonder across the valley, to drive the mountain-bull from his covert and chase him over the plain, you shall be as well armed and mounted as myself."
By such frank dealings with his inferiors, such kindly consideration for others, the Comely King had so attached his attendants to his person, that it was generally believed amongst his subjects he possessed some magic amulet compelling all that came about his person to love him and do his bidding. Perhaps they were not far wrong, and the charm he used had in it much of strange and subtle power; for men cannot resist a fair face, a frank manner, above all, the kindly sympathy of a brave and generous heart.
Leaping on his horse, the king bade Sarchedon change his bow, replenish his quiver, and follow him across the defile. As he plunged down the steep after his leader, over slabs of rock affording but slippery foothold, and through broken ground clothed with tangled brushwood, Sarchedon found himself wishing more than once for the sagacious instinct and obedient paces of his own Merodach. The animal he rode was strong, active, and full of mettle. For all common purposes he could not have desired a better; but when a man is galloping at speed over unforeseen obstacles, where a false step is a certain downfall, he learns to appreciate that electric sympathy, the result of constant companionship, which constitutes so subtle and mysterious a link between the horse and its rider. Merodach would obey an inflection of the body readily as a turn of the rein, would spring to the gentlest pressure as to the lustiest shout; but Merodach stood picketed far off under a southern sky, and Sarchedon's horse was on his head twice ere he rose the opposite hill to come up with his leader, who had halted for a few moments that he might look about him and observe his ground.
"We have the wind of them," said Aryas, pointing to a few indistinct dun-coloured objects glancing like shadows in and out amongst the trees. "But they are disturbed, and have left off feeding. When their heads are up like that, they mean moving, and pretty quickly too. Dost see that broad-leafed oak standing by itself there over the waterfall? Gallop round it, man, without drawing rein, and you will be in the thick of them. They will not expect danger from that quarter, and even if they do make a rush for it, you will turn the old bulls to me."
While Sarchedon obeyed, the Armenian king unwound the scanty fold of linen that formed his head-dress, and permitted it to float at length on the breeze, thus distracting the attention of the wild cattle, now thoroughly on the alert, from their enemy.
Sarchedon galloped on unnoticed so long as his horse's footfall was lost in the roar of the torrent. When within a bowshot, however, the herd became aware of his approach, and forming line almost like the horsemen of Assyria, paused for a space while they roused themselves to fury, throwing the earth about them with horn and hoof.
For once the king's wood-craft was at fault. Preferring, as it seemed, a known to an unknown danger, they elected to bear down on the advancing horseman rather than make farther acquaintance with that long mysterious strip of white which had hitherto engrossed their attention.
Sarchedon now found himself called on to sustain the charge of the whole infuriated mass. While he fitted an arrow to his bowstring, his horse snorted and trembled, its eye turning blue with terror. He could but hope to discharge one shaft at the foremost and then take his chance with the spear.