"As you see, on the walls of the northern and eastern stairways, my artists have carved the bearers of tribute from all the lands whereof I am king. Two spaces alone remain blank. I had intended these for the European Greeks, but—ah—there has been a slight delay in reducing these brigands to obedience. Therefore, these reliefs shall depict, instead, my new African subjects and their gifts. Aspamitres, see you to it. Fetch hither the artists and have the sketches executed forthwith.
"Now, O Bessas, what befell the other man who went with you—that Milesian tutor of my sons—ah"—Xerxes snapped his fingers—"Myron, was that not his name?"
"Here he is, sire. He has kept a record of our explorations."
"Good! I am glad, Master Myron, that you have survived this perilous journey. You shall be lodged at my expense whilst you prepare your report. And both of you shall dine with me this evening, together with the small chieftain."
Myron and Bessas bowed together, murmuring: "Your slaves are honored, sire."
At this there was a buzz among the crowding courtiers, for rarely indeed did the king dine with persons outside his own family, save on certain festivals. For the most part he lived in godlike seclusion that became the more remote as he grew older. The king turned to his commander in chief.
"Artabanus, find lodging for these men in the barracks: the Arabs among the enlisted men and Masters Myron and Bessas in the officers' quarters. Give an officer's room to the Africans and assign slaves to care for all these people. Guard them well.
"Find also a place for this whatever-you-call-it, this beast, and remove it thither when the artists have done their work. Find out what it eats and arrange for a supply until it can be taken to my menagerie at Hagmatana. Do not tether it where Rustam can come upon it. That is all."
The king turned to re-enter the Apadana, but Bessas called out tensely: "Great King! Before you withdraw, may I ask ..."
The king turned back, his bushy black brows drawn together in a frown. "Well? Speak."
"What of your slave's mother, sire?"
"Oh. I am sorry to inform you that the Lady Zarina died of natural causes, several months ago, despite the ministrations of my own physician. Her possessions are in the custody of Chamberlain Aspamitres, who will turn them over to you. Until later, then!"
When Myron and Bessas reached the room to which General Artabanus conveyed them, Bessas burst into a torrent of weeping. He sank down upon his knees, beating the floor with his fists while tears poured down into his beard. Norax, the slave he had left behind to care for his mother, came in and threw himself down to kiss the hem of Bessas' robe and join in the lamentation.
"How did the mistress die?" sobbed Bessas. "If that long-nosed devil slew her, I'll—I'll—"
"Nay, master," said Norax. "She was kept in comfort. She had a sickness that pained her, inside. Little by little it grew worse, though your noble mother was never one to complain. The king sent his own physician, the learned Apollonides of Kos, but even he knew no cure. And at last she died, on the second day of Shabatu."
"Are you sure she was not poisoned?"
"I have no reason to think she was, sir. Her last words were a prayer for your safety."
At last Bessas mastered himself and dried his tears. He muttered a prayer for his mother's soul and asked the slave:
"What befell my cousin Sataspes, who was sent to sail around Africa?"
"He returned three months ago, with some story that he had sailed a hundred leagues or so down the west coast, but there the winds and currents stopped him. The king thought it a case of simple cowardice, so Sataspes paid the original penalty imposed upon him."
"I mourn him not, considering all the trouble he caused me," said Bessas grimly. He turned to Myron. "This gracious reception would seem to bode well for us, but I know better than to trust any king too far. If someone is fattening you, be sure he will soon slaughter you. How think you we fare? Is Xerxes likely to seat me, too, on the stake?"
"I think not. This inviting us to dine is an auspicious sign. After all, some men would cheerfully cut off their noses for the privilege."
Meanwhile, Xerxes had again retired to Ostanas' chamber, where he spoke: "My good Ostanas, is this then the end of our hopes of defeating the demon Death?"
Ostanas, who rested his elbows on the table and his mouth on his bony clasped fists, raised his head.
"Gracious lord, I have been thinking hard. Whether or no the sirrush exists, I doubt not that Master Bessas did indeed perform a deed of dought. Of this, the small black men and the beast that resembles an antelope crossed with an ass are living proof.
"It may be that the sirrush lives, but that the priests of the false god Marduk, because of their hatred of Your Majesty, lied to you as to its provenance. It might exist in some other quarter. But to track it down were a life's task in itself, and neither of us—be it as you wish—grows younger by the day."
"What then?"
"I fear we shall have to give up the blood of the sir-rush as one of the ingredients of our elixir. Howsomever, as we possess the other two items, it were a shame not to use them. So let us see what we can substitute.
"Of the beasts whereof we know, the one whose blood most nearly approaches the dragon's in ardor is the gryphon, which dwells in the land of the one-eyed Arimaspians, beyond Suguda in the far Northeast."
"Ask me not to send another expedition forth and wait another year!"
"Nay, nay, sire. I did but mention it in passing. Now, the beast of rank that is nearest to that of the gryphon is the lion."
"Lion, eh? I can send to Hagmatana for a lion from my menagerie."
"May it please the Great King, but methinks even that were too slow. The king's ear will keep, but what of the heart of the hero?"
"What mean you?"
"Your slave means that we now have Bessas within our grasp; but will he so remain whilst you send to Hagmatana?"
"Guards watch him now, and I can have him shackled so securely that not even the demon Azi Dahaka could escape."
"But consider, Great King! A true hero will fight like a demon ere letting himself be taken, and either escape or perish trying. And for our elixir we need the heart cut from a living hero."
"What, then, do you purpose?"
"That we take him forthwith, by a means that I shall discover to you. Then, for the blood of our lion, we must sacrifice your pet."
"Poor old Rustam? Never! I love the mangy monster."
"There is no help for it, sire. We must work with dispatch, whilst the Good God has provided us with the materials.
"Understand, my master, this elixir will be less effective than that made with dragon's blood. Instead of giving you eternal life, it can at best prolong your life—let us say—a thousand years. But if we can accomplish this much, further researches may solve our problem ere the effect of this draft subside."
"At the moment, a thousand years' respite seems like a plenty." The king sighed. "I sometimes wonder why I strive to prolong this life of dole and disappointment."
"Courage, sire! Think of all the great works you have set in motion, which need your guiding hand to complete!"
"You are right, of course, my friend. Forget my melancholy words. The world needs me, so I must be worthy of the world, whatever my private feelings. And—by the Holy Ox Soul, you are a clever rascal! It is plain that you, too, must needs partake of this cordial if you are to conduct the researches whereof you speak, eh?" Xerxes smiled sardonically.