he fought. He was in the
thickest fray. He sent the white Nisaean against the Laconian spears and
beat down a dozen lance-points with his sword. If one man's valour could
have turned the tide, his would have wrought the miracle. And always
behind, almost in reach of the Grecian sling-stones, rode that other,--the
page in the silvered mail,--nor did any harm come to this rider. But after
the fight had raged so long that men sank unwounded,--gasping, stricken by
the heat and press,--the Prince drew back a little from the fray to a
rising in the plain, where close by a rural temple of Demeter he could
watch the drifting fight, and he saw the Aryans yielding ground finger by
finger, yet yielding, and the phalanx impregnable as ever. Then he sent an
aide with an urgent message.

"To Artabazus and the reserve. Bid him take from the camp all the guards,
every man, every eunuch that can lift a spear, and come with speed, or the
day is lost."

The adjutant's spurs grew red as he pricked away, while Mardonius wheeled
the Nisaean and plunged back into the thickest fight.

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"

His battle-call pealed even above the hellish din. The Persian nobles who
had never ridden to aught save victory turned again. Their last charge was
their fiercest. They bent the phalanx back like an inverted bow. Their
footmen, reckless of self, plunged on the Greeks and snapped off the
spear-points with their naked hands. Mardonius was never prouder of his
host than in that hour. Proud--but the charge was vain. As the tide swept
back, as the files of the Spartans locked once more, he knew his men had
done their uttermost. They had fought since dawn. Their shield wall was
broken. Their quivers were empty. Was not Mazda turning against them? Had
not enough been dared for that king who lounged at ease in Sardis?

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"

Mardonius's shout had no answer. Here, there, he saw horsemen and footmen,
now singly, now in small companies, drifting backward across the plain to
the last refuge of the defeated, the stockaded camp by the Asopus. The
Prince called on his cavalry, so few about him now.

"Shall we die as scared dogs? Remember the Aryan glory. Another charge!"

His bravest seemed never to hear him. The onward thrust of the phalanx
quickened. It was gaining ground swiftly at last. Then the Spartans were
dashing forward like men possessed.

"The Athenians have vanquished the Thebans. They c