drifted back in defeat, Xerxes the king "leaped from the
throne whereon he sat, in anguish for his army."

At noon new contingents from the rear took the place of the exhausted
attackers. The sun beat down with unpitying heat. The wounded lay
sweltering in their agony whilst the battle roared over them. Mardonius
never stopped to count his dead. Then at last came nightfall. Man could do
no more. As the shadows from OEta grew long over the close scene of combat,
even the proudest Persians turned away. They had lost thousands. Their
defeat was absolute. Before them and to westward and far away ranged the
jagged mountains, report had it, unthreaded by a single pass. To the
eastward was only the sea,--the sea closed to them by the Greek fleet at
the unseen haven of Artemisium. Was the triumph march of the Lord of the
World to end in this?

Xerxes spoke no word when they took him to his tent that night, a sign of
indescribable anger. Fear, humiliation, rage--all these seemed driving him
mad. His chamberlains and eunuchs feared to approach to take off his
golden armour. Mardonius came to the royal tent; the king, with curses he
had never hurled against the bow-bearer before, refused to see him. The
battle was ended. No one was hardy enough to talk of a fresh attack on the
morrow. Every captain had to report the loss of scores of his best. As
Glaucon rode back to Mardonius's tents, he overheard two infantry
officers:--

"A fearful day--the bow-bearer is likely to pay for it. I hope his Majesty
confines his anger only to him."

"Yes--Mardonius will walk the Chinvat bridge to-morrow. The king is turning
against him. Megabyzus is the bow-bearer's enemy, and already is gone to
his Majesty to say that it is Mardonius's blunders that have brought the
army to such a plight. The king will catch at that readily."

At the tents Glaucon found Artazostra and Roxana. They were both pale. The
news of the great defeat had been brought by a dozen messengers. Mardonius
had not arrived. He was not slain, that was certain, but Artazostra feared
the worst. The proud daughter of Darius found it hard to bear up.

"My husband has many enemies. Hitherto the king's favour has allowed him
to mock them. But if my brother deserts him, his ruin is speedy. Ah!
Ahura-Mazda, why hast Thou suffered us to see this day?"

Glaucon said what he could of comfort, which was little. Roxana wept
piteously; he was fain to soothe her by his caress,--something he