gold. Let my servants honour him. Let those who mock at him be
impaled. And this I proclaim as my decree."

What followed Glaucon was too bewildered to recall clearly. He knew that
the archchamberlain lifted the great jewel-crusted hat from the king's
head and set it on his own for an instant, that they brought him a flowing
purple robe, and clasped about his waist a golden belt, every link set
with a stone of price. The hall arose _en masse_ to drink to the man whom
the sovran delighted to honour.

"Hail! Thrice hail to the Lord Prexaspes! Justly rewarded by our gracious
king!"

No man refused his plaudit, and Glaucon never knew how many envious
courtiers cheered with their lips and in their hearts muttered dark things
against "the manner in which his Majesty loved to play the god and promote
this unknown Hellene above the heads of so many faithful subjects."

Glaucon had made shift to speak some words of deprecation and gratitude to
royalty; his bow was deeper when the supreme usher led him away from the
throne than when he approached it. As he made his way out of the
banqueting hall, a score of noblemen, captains of thousands, over-eunuchs,
and more trailed at his heels, salaaming, fawning, congratulating,
offering all manner of service. Not on the days following his victory at
the Isthmia had his head been in such a whirl. He hardly heard the
well-meant warning which Artabanus, the shrewd old vizier, gave as he
passed the door of the great hall.

"Play the game well, my new Lord Prexaspes. The king can make you satrap
or he can crucify you. Play the game well, the stakes are high."

Neither did he hear the conversation betwixt Xerxes and the bow-bearer
whilst he was being conducted away.

"Have I done well to honour this man, Mardonius?"

"Your Eternity was never more wise. Bear with his uncourtliness now, for
he is truthful, upright, and noble in soul--qualities rare in a Hellene.
Give me but time. I will make him a worthy Persian indeed."

"Do not fail therein," ordered the monarch, "for the youth has such
beauty, both of body and mind, I am grieved he was born in Athens. Yet
there is one short way to wean him from his doomed and miserable country."

"Will Omnipotence but name it?"

"Search out for him a Persian wife, no, three or four wives--although I
have heard the custom of these witless Greeks is to be content with only
one. There is no surer way to turn his heart than that."

"I thank your Eter