At last he gave a hoarse yelclass="underline" "Help! Help!"
Nobody came. With a snarl of frustration, Bessas resigned himself to a study of Ostanas' apartment. Most of the objects therein meant little to him, but he at least entertained himself with imagining to what lethal uses he could put them. That stuffed crocodile, for instance, could be rammed up Xerxes'—
The copper-studded door swung silently open. Two men crowded in, carrying a kind of stretcher. Two other men followed, holding the other end of the structure. Bessas could not at first see clearly what was on the stretcher; but, as the men neared to the table on which he lay, he caught a glimpse of black mane and tawny hide. This must be Rustam, the king's pet lion!
Following the second pair of men, Xerxes and Ostanas entered the room. The men with the stretcher put down their burden and went away. Ostanas came close to Bessas.
"He is awake."
Prudence struggled with red rage in Bessas' soul, and prudence did not have the better of it. "What is this? What are you doing? What have I done to you?" he shouted at Xerxes.
The king merely glanced at him and said to Ostanas: "Is all prepared?"
"Aye, my master. The lion, as you see, still lives, though I drugged him heavily enough so that I need not fear his sudden awakening whilst I drain his blood. With the man, it matters not whether he sleeps or wakes."
"Do you not need a younger man to help you?" said Xerxes anxiously.
"Not yet, sire. The supernatural influences invoked in this art are so fell that an unskilled apprentice were worse than none." ?
The king bent over the unconscious lion. "Farewell, old Rustam! I shall miss you." He stroked the animal's mane.
Ostanas pottered with vessels and instruments. He fed the small fire and hung a pot of water over it to boil. He sharpened a knife and tested it with his thumb.
"Your slave is now ready to begin the great work," he said.
"Then I shall depart," said Xerxes.
"What in demon land are you up to?" yelled Bessas. "What kind of king are you, who gives his faithful servants to witches to carve up for potions?"
"Would Your Majesty not prefer to remain?" said Ostanas. "This work will make history in the occult sciences."
Xerxes smiled. "Dear old Ostanas, how little you understand me, after all these years! I hate bloodshed and death. I know that my commands have sent many thousands to their doom—not all, belike, so justly as I might have wished. But in my heart"—he slapped his bosom—"I love life and peace for all, even for the humblest. I have fostered your researches in hopes of winning a final victory over the demon Death, not only for me, Xerxes, but perchance for all mankind. So I will not stay to watch you take the heart of this young man—who dies, if it be any comfort to him, in a worthy cause. Oh, remind me later to deal with those lying priests of Marduk. By the Good God, they shall rue their mendacity! I will make them long for death!"
The king went out. Bessas spat at him, although he was out of range.
Whistling through his remaining teeth, Ostanas resumed his work. Although Bessas could not see what he did with the lion, a trickling sound came to Bessas' ears.
Time passed. The trickling dwindled away to individual drops. Ostanas prayed, then took King Siptah's ear off a shelf, dropped it into a mortar, and brayed it vigorously with the pestle.
When the ear had been reduced to powder, the wizard knelt and uttered more prayers. Although Bessas could plainly hear the words, the gods or other spirits appealed to were none that he knew.
Ostanas drew a diagram on the floor with a piece of charcoal, stood in it, and went through a long rigmarole with a wand, facing this way and that and mumbling a rhythmic chant.
Then he stepped out of the diagram and sharpened his knife some more with a wheet-wheet sound.
"You lousy old catamite!" snarled Bessas. "You are no magician. You are nought but a dirty old mountebank, who had cozened the silly king into thinking a potion can prolong his life. Well, it will not work. I know magicians in Egypt and Kush who would make six of you, you lying snake! You will die, and the king will die, and nobody will even remember you! You shall be a kinless, wandering ghost! In Mithra's name, may you be dipped in dung! May dogs eat your privates! May you be flayed alive with a dull knife! May you fall from the Bridge of the Separator and dwell in eternal torment in the House of the Lie!" Wheet-wheet went the knife.
Bessas cursed Ostanas unto the tenth generation of his ancestry, but the wizard answered never a word. Ostanas set down his whetstone and came forward, his eyes gleaming under his bushy white brows. The knife blade flashed yellow in the light of the golden lamps.
Ostanas suddenly halted, frozen to immobility with his mouth half open and his eyeballs rolled sidewise. He turned towards the door, through which wafted a rising murmur of sound. There came a noise of shouting and running and the metallic clash of arms.
With a curse, Ostanas laid down the knife and hastened to the door. Grasping the bronzen knob, he opened the door a crack, then wider. He slipped out while, in its cage, the hyena laughed.
In his bedchamber, King Xerxes suffered his eunuchs to disrobe him and help him into his dressing gown. He said to Aspamitres:
"Did not Master Myron say something this evening about a custom of the Africans, to chew a twig every night until it is frayed and then brush their teeth with it? Get me some twigs and we will try it. Nay, not now! In the next few days, I meant. Nay, I want no women tonight. Now out, all of you. Leave one light on. Good night!"
The eunuchs filed out, bearing the royal ewer, wash basin, towel, drinking cup, and chamber pot. Xerxes raised his hands and prayed:
"As Auramazda is the best lord, so is Zoroaster the judge according to holy righteousness, he who brings life's deed of good thought to Mazdah and the Kingdom to Ahura, he whom they have established as herder to the poor.
"Righteousness is the best good. According to our desire may it be, as we wish it shall be to us, righteousness for salvation.
"Let the beloved brotherhood come to the support of Zoroaster's men and women, to the support of good thought. Whatever self deserves the precious reward, for him I beg the coveted prize of righteousness, which Auramazda will bestow."
The king tossed off his dressing gown. For half an ush he stood, naked but for the scented purple bags that covered his hair and beard, looking down with displeasure at his potbelly. He sighed, kicked off his slippers, and sat down on the bed.
Xerxes took a long look at the True Anthrax, which hung around his neck, and slipped under the covers.
Scarcely had the king settled himself to sleep when his private knock sounded. "Enter!" he called.
Artabanus' darkly darting eyes appeared in the crack of the door.
"O King!" said the commander in chief in a low, tense tone. "Something of the utmost moment has occurred!"
"What in the name of Auramazda is it? Do not stand in the doorway, mumbling like a crone, but come hither and speak up!"
"You are in danger, sire!" said the Hyrkanian, coming forward. "So great is this peril that I have brought my sons to help me guard you. Come on in, boys. Hurry!"
Seven young Aryans filed into the room.
"Well, now," said Xerxes, peering at his ruby. "You must be mistaken. See the bright red of this magical gem—uk!"
The tallest of Artabanus' sons had shot out two long arms and gripped Xerxes by the throat, digging his powerful thumbs beneath the purple bag that held Xerxes' beard and choking off the royal windpipe. At the same instant four of the other sons threw themselves on Xerxes' limbs, each seizing one.