“What is it?” asked the monarch.
“The Immortals have been disgraced. Twice they have been repulsed with ignominy. The shame burns hot in their breasts. Suffer them to redeem their honour. Suffer me to take this man and all the infantry of the Life Guard, and at dawn the Lord of the World shall see his desire over his miserable enemies.”
“The words of Hydarnes are good,” added Mardonius, incisively, and Xerxes beamed and nodded assent.
“Go, scale the mountain with the Immortals and tell this Ephialtes there await him ten talents and a girdle of honour if the thing goes well; if ill, let him be flayed alive and his skin be made the head of a kettledrum.”
The stolid peasant did not blench even at this. Glaucon remained in the tent, translating and hearing all the details: how Hydarnes was to press the attack from the rear at early dawn, how Mardonius was to conduct another onset from the front. At last the general of the guard knelt before the king for the last time.
“Thus I go forth, Omnipotence, and to-morrow, behold your will upon your enemies, or behold me never more.”
“I have faithful slaves,” said Xerxes, rising and smiling benignantly upon the general and the bow-bearer. “Let us disperse, but first let command be given the Magians to cry all night to Mithra and Tishtrya, and to sacrifice to them a white horse.”
“Your Majesty always enlists the blessings of heaven for your servants,” bowed Mardonius, as the company broke up and the king went away to his inner tent and his concubines. Glaucon lingered until most of the grandees had gone forth, then the bow-bearer went to him.
“Go back to my tents,” ordered Mardonius; “tell Artazostra and Roxana that all is well, that Ahura has delivered me from a great strait and restored me to the king’s favour, and that to-morrow the gate of Hellas will be opened.”
“You are still bloody and dusty. You have watched all last night and been in the thick all day,” expostulated the Athenian; “come to the tents with me and rest.”