“Send us, therefore, but one word, telling us that you march hither with your army; and we will meet you at Susa with two hundred thousand men, to throw down this beast from his throne. In you alone do the Persian people hope. Your father’s age and inclination may not permit him to accept the great burden of ruling this empire, in case Bardya cannot be found; and we shall call you to the throne. Send us orders.”
The Prince was greatly moved. Gobryas watched him curiously. Would not this letter overcome his scruples? The Prince sat down heavily by the table and supported his head on his hands. After a moment of silence, he said:
“Call the son of Darya.”
Gobryas pulled a silken cord, and immediately a servant appeared.
“Bring the messenger here,” he commanded.
The son of Darya appeared quickly. He bowed low before the Prince, who pointed to a bench, indicating that he might sit. But he remained standing.
“Son of Darya,” said the Prince, “you have come far and served faithfully. How is the old man, my father? Has he changed much? Is his body bending with age and toil?”
The man’s dark eyes glowed with affection as he answered: “No, royal Master. Your father stoops not, nor does his face show care. It is not wrinkled save when he smiles on his sons, as he calls the soldiers. Bactra is happy, because the people dwell in safety and have justice dealt out to them. Your royal father remains youthful and is ready to march on smooth or rough roads at any moment. There is no man in all Iran like unto him.”
“You saw and heard much as you came hither. You stopped at Hamadan and you gathered news there for me. Is it not so?”
“I was commanded to see and hear and to report all to you.”