nias's outposts. The man
saluted his officers, and said that the Greeks of the lesser states had
retreated far to the rear, that Amompharetus still refused to move his
division, that the Spartans waited for him, and the Athenians for the
Spartans.

"Noble tidings," whispered the giant, as the two stood an instant, before
each went to his own men. "Behold how Hermes helps us--a great deity."

"Sometimes I think Nemesis is greater," said Democrates, once again
refusing Lycon's proffered hand.

"By noon you'll laugh at Nemesis, _philotate_, when we both drink Helbon
wine in Xerxes's tent!" and away went Lycon into the dark.

Democrates went his own way also. Soon he was in the fallow-field, where
under the warm night the Athenians were stretched, each man in armour, his
helmet for a pillow. A few torches were moving. From a distance came the
hum from a group of officers in excited conversation. As the orator picked
his way among the sleeping men, a locharch with a lantern accosted him
suddenly.

"You are Democrates the strategus?"

"Certainly."

"Aristeides summons you at once. Come."

There was no reason for refusing. Democrates followed.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE AVENGING OF LEONIDAS

Morning at last, ruddy and windy. The Persian host had been long prepared.
The Tartar cavalry with their bulls-hide targets and long lances, the
heavy Persian cuirassiers, the Median and Assyrian archers with their
ponderous wicker-shields, stood in rank waiting only the word that should
dash them as sling-stones on Pausanias and his ill-starred following. The
Magi had sacrificed a stallion, and reported that the holy fire gave every
favouring sign. Mardonius went from his tent, all his eunuchs bowing their
foreheads to the earth and chorussing, "Victory to our Lord, to Persia,
and to the King."

They brought Mardonius his favourite horse, a white steed of the sacred
breed of Nisaea. The Prince had bound around his turban the gemmed tiara
Xerxes had given him on his wedding-day. Few could wield the Babylonish
cimeter that danced in the chieftain's hand. The captains cheered him
loudly, as they might have cheered the king.

"Life to the general! To the satrap of Hellas!"

But beside the Nisaean pranced another, lighter and with a lighter mount.
The rider was cased in silvered scale-armour, and bore only a steel-tipped
reed.

"The general's page," ran the whisper, a