“It was in your service, Omnipotence,” the Prince was rejoining blandly; “what if not I alone, but a thousand others of the noblest of the Persians and the Medes may perish, if only the glory of their king is advanced?”
“Nobly said; you are a faithful slave, Mardonius. I will remember you when I have burned Athens.”
He even reached forth and stroked the bow-bearer’s hand, a condescension which made the footstool-bearer, parasol-bearer, quiver-bearer, and a dozen great lords more gnaw their lips with envy. Hydarnes, the commander who had waited an auspicious moment, now thought it safe to kneel on the lowest step of the throne.
“Omnipotence, I am constrained to tell you that certain miserable Hellenes have been seized in the camp to-night—spies sent to pry out your power. Do you deign to have them impaled, crucified, or cast into the adders’ cage?”
The king smiled magnanimously.
“They shall not die. Show them the host, and all my power. Then send them home to their fellow-rebels to tell the madness of dreaming to withstand my might.”
The smile of Xerxes had spread, like the ripple from a pebble splashing in a pool, over the face of every nobleman in hearing. Now their praises came as a chant.
“O Ocean of Clemency and Wisdom! Happy Eran in thy sagacious yet merciful king!”
Xerxes, not heeding, turned to Mardonius.
“Ah! yes,—you were telling how you corrupted one of the chief Athenians, then had to flee. On the voyage you were shipwrecked?”