Part 33 (1/2)

”Question this man further as to what he will do for us. We have understood him but lamely.”

Glaucon proceeded to comply. The man, who was exceeding awkward and ill at ease in such august company, spoke an outrageous shepherd's jargon which even the Athenian understood with effort. But his business came out speedily. He was Ephialtes, the son of one Eurydemus, a Malian, a dull-witted grazier of the country, brought to Mardonius by hope of reward. The general, partly understanding his purpose, had brought him to the king. In brief, he was prepared, for due compensation, to lead the Persians by an almost unknown mountain path over the ridge of ta and to the rear of Leonidas's position at Thermopylae, where the h.e.l.lenes, a.s.sailed front and rear, would inevitably be destroyed.

As Glaucon interpreted, the shout of relieved gladness from the Persian grandees made the tent-cloths shake. Xerxes's eyes kindled. He clapped his hands.

”Reward? He shall have ten talents! But where? How?”

The man a.s.serted that the path was easy and practicable for a large body of troops. He had often been over it with his sheep and goats. If the Persians would start a force at once-it was already quite dark-they could fall upon Leonidas at dawn. The Spartan would be completely trapped, or forced to open the defile without another spear thrust.

”A care, fellow,” warned Mardonius, regarding the man sharply; ”you speak glibly, but if this is a trick to lead a band of the king's servants to destruction, understand you play with deadly dice. If the troops march, you shall have your hands knotted together and a soldier walking behind to cut your throat at the first sign of treachery.”

Glaucon interpreted the threat. The man did not wince.

”There is no trap. I will guide you.”

That was all they could get him to say.

”And do not the h.e.l.lenes know of this mountain path and guard it?”

persisted the bow-bearer.

Ephialtes thought not; at least if they had, they had not told off any efficient detachment to guard it. Hydarnes cut the matter short by rising from his stool and casting himself before the king.

”A boon, your Eternity, a boon!”

”What is it?” asked the monarch.

”The Immortals have been disgraced. Twice they have been repulsed with ignominy. The shame burns hot in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 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 a.s.sent.

”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 h.e.l.las will be opened.”

”You are still b.l.o.o.d.y 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.”

The bow-bearer shook his head.

”No rest until to-morrow, and then the rest of victory or a longer one.