es fight?" and the
answer was ever more doubting, "I do not know."

Long since Glaucon had given up hope of the defeat of the Persian. Now he
prayed devoutly there might be no useless shedding of blood. If only he
could turn back and not behold the humiliation of Athens! Of the fate of
the old-time friends--Democrates, Cimon, Hermione--he tried not to think. No
doubt Hermione was the wife of Democrates. More than a year had sped since
the flight from Colonus. Hermione had put off her mourning for the yellow
veil of a bride. Glaucon prayed the war might bring her no new sorrow,
though Democrates, of course, would resist Persia to the end. As for
himself he would never darken their eyes again. He was betrothed to
Roxana. With her he would seek one of those valleys in Bactria which she
had praised, the remoter the better, and there perhaps was peace.

Thus the host wound through Thessaly, till before them rose, peak on peak,
the jagged mountain wall of Othrys and OEta, fading away in violet
distance, the bulwark of central Hellas. Then the king's smile became a
frown, for the Hellenes, undismayed despite his might, were assembling
their fleet at northern Euboea, and at the same time a tempest had
shattered a large part of the royal navy. The Magi offered sacrifice to
appease Tishtrya, the Prince of the Wind-ruling Stars, but the king's
frown grew blacker at each message. Glaucon was near him when at last the
monarch's thunders broke forth.

A hot, sultry day. The king's chariot had just crossed the mountain stream
of the Sphercus, when a captain of a hundred came galloping, dismounted,
and prostrated himself in the dust.

"Your tidings?" demanded Xerxes, sharply.

"Be gracious, Fountain of Mercy,"--the captain evidently disliked his
mission,--"I am sent from the van. We came to a place where the mountains
thrust down upon the sea and leave but a narrow road by the ocean. Your
slaves found certain Hellenes, rebels against your benignant government,
holding a wall and barring all passage to your army."

"And did you not forthwith seize these impudent wretches and drag them
hither to be judged by me?"

"Compassion, Omnipotence,"--the messenger trembled,--"they seemed sturdy,
well-armed rogues, and the way was narrow and steep where a score can face
a thousand. Therefore, your slave came straight with his tidings to the
ever gracious king."

"Dog! Coward!" Xerxes plucked the whip from the charioteer's hand and
lashed