The King did not answer immediately. He watched the movements of the mob with tiger-like eyes. He saw Prince Hystaspis pass slowly through the mob and observed that the officers were also passing back and forth shouting orders. He saw the men falling in with orderly precision and, in a few minutes, that the mob had become an army. Company after company formed in the open garden and the adjacent streets, until on all sides of the palace a solid cordon of men stood at rest with officers duly advanced before them. Prexaspes waited impatiently for orders, but the King only ordered wine to be brought.
The Prince of Iran had said to the officers who were directing the mob: “Captains of Iran, I am grieved to the heart! Never before have the Aryans turned on their King in this manner and assaulted his high Majesty! But the provocation has been great! Nevertheless, if the Aryans rule the world, they must obey their kings! By your act you have forfeited your lives and under the law are as dead men! I will go to the King and seek his pardon for you and for those he now holds in prison. Speak to the men and say that I, the Prince of Iran, their commander, order them to desist until I go to the King and return!”
Up spoke a grizzled veteran, who had campaigned with Cyrus: “O most beloved Prince, go not to the King! Does he not hate you? Has he not without cause murdered his brother and his two sisters? Why do the heads of our comrades hang on yonder walls? By the great God, we have sworn that he shall release the others or die! He is a madman, and it is no treason to dethrone him. Go not to him! He will slay you also!”
The Prince looked upon the rugged face of the speaker with love, but he said reprovingly: “I know your heart, Arbax; but you forget that he is the son of Cyrus, the Great King. What of me? Have I not suffered at his hands? Yet do I counsel obedience. Will you not be guided by me?”
“Always and forever!” answered Arbax. “But is it not just to demand that he release our officers as well as pardon the men?”
“It is just. If he refuse, then indeed is he mad and you do well to take him from the throne. I will go to him demanding this. Will you abide the result?”
A common assent was given by all. Only Gobryas, whose soul was bitter because of the death of Artistone, exclaimed: “Prince and brother, let me carry this demand to the King, and you remain here! If he refuse our request, or slay me, it will matter little. There may be no need of further rioting! Let me go in your stead.”
But the Prince shook his head. To send Gobryas meant to send death to the King, as the latter, he knew, was in a mood to slay the monster who had crushed the life out of the woman he loved.
“Have patience, my brother,” said the Prince. “The state is above all else. Shall we slay our King and plunge the whole world into anarchy? Every subject nation would revolt. We are in the midst of our enemies and far from home with a weakened army. Terror of the King of Kings lies heavy upon the subject-peoples. It must not be removed now. No, the time is not ripe! Iran must be prepared to set up another King before throwing down this one. The King will see the justice of our demands.”
Another captain spoke up, voicing the decision of all: “We will obey you, as our commander. But our brothers must be released and pardon extended to all. If you return not in one half-hour with their pardon, we storm the palace and slay every man therein. We swear it!”