“... Beyond the Theban plain

Stretches to airy distance, till it seems

Lifted in air,—green cornfields, olive groves

Blue as their heaven, and lakes, and winding rivers.”

James Gates Percival.

Now in the fitful lurid glow of a hundred campfires, now in the gloomy shadows of tents or trees, Zopyrus crept stealthily toward the tent of Artabazus. It was approaching midnight, and with the exception of the occupants of Mardonius’ tent, the Persians slept, many of them for the last time before their eternal rest. Less than fifteen minutes had elapsed since Zopyrus had quitted the tent of Mardonius, leaving the Persian and Theban leaders in a heated discussion pertaining to the morrow’s battle. He felt assured that affairs of war would detain Artabazus for at least a half hour and possibly longer. The tent of Artabazus, though at no great distance from that of Mardonius, was difficult of access, and Zopyrus realized that his work must be accomplished not only swiftly, but silently as well.
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A guard walking back and forth before the entrance to the women’s tent was the only living soul visible; his measured tread the only sound audible. Zopyrus stood like an inanimate object beside a low bush near the tent. He watched the guard for some time, studying the opportune moment to spring. Now the fellow’s march brought him so close to the hidden figure that the latter had but to reach forth his hand—A muffled cry of bewilderment, a brief struggle, a suppressed groan of agony, and Zopyrus leaped over the prostrate form and entered the tent of the women.

The eunuch, a creature of repulsive form and malignant countenance, stood just within the entrance. The noise of the struggle, brief and silent though it was, had reached his ears. With the stealth and agility of a panther he approached and leaped upon his prey as the latter entered. With dagger raised aloft he would have dealt a fatal blow had not Phædime with the strength of an Amazon, held his arm as it was about to descend.

“Wait, Amorges,” she cried, “do not harm this man till we learn his mission!” Turning to Zopyrus she said, “Speak stranger, what would you in the harem of Artabazus?”

Zopyrus glanced quickly about him at the silken hangings richly broidered; at the heavy woven tapestries which adorned the sides of the tent; at panels composed of the variegated plumage of birds, and gloriously flashing jewels; the beautifully gowned women who surveyed him with unabashed curiosity, their shining black eyes flashing their appreciation of the unusual over the tops of fans of ostrich feathers. He turned again to Phædime.

“I seek one Ladice by name, a Greek girl brought here against her will.”
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“Just a moment, I will bring her.” To the eunuch she whispered aside, “I will fetch a gag. Do not touch him yet.”

She returned shortly with Ladice whose appearance of unutterable wretchedness wrung Zopyrus’ heart.

“This officer says he has come to take you away, Ladice,” said Phædime giving a sidelong glance at the girl to observe her reception of the news.

The Greek maiden took a step forward, gazing earnestly into Zopyrus’ face. “It is not he, no it is not he! But tell me he is not dead!”

Zopyrus spoke gently, “I must confirm the ill news, fair maiden. Masistius died heroically on the field of battle and I am to succeed him in an attempt to rescue you.”

Amorges and Phædime exchanged glances, the former intimating by a nod that it was time to produce the gag, but Phædime still hesitated, for the girl, Ladice, flung herself with a sob at Zopyrus’ feet.

“It can’t be true,” she cried, “I loved him and he promised to return, oh tell me it isn’t true!”

Zopyrus gazed with compassion into the tear-stained face as he replied: “It is indeed true, but tell me, do you really wish to escape from the clutches of Artabazus?”

The girl glanced furtively about her in horror as if she expected to see the odious form conjured before her at the mention of his name.

“Yes, I will do anything to escape from him and if——” but her words were cut short by a muffled cry of terror.
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Phædime had seized the eunuch and forced the gag into his mouth. “Come, help me bind him!” she called loudly to Zopyrus.

It was the work of a few moments, and when they were finished, poor Amorges lay in one corner of the tent, prone and helpless.

“You may depend upon me to help you in this project,” Phædime said to Zopyrus. “It is necessary to lay bare to you the secrets of a woman’s heart. I love Artabazus, and in his affections I have held first place till this Greek girl,” (here she cast a scornful glance at Ladice), “was brought here, and after this battle was fought she would have been his. You see it is to my interest to get her away and to that end I will lend you my assistance. Perhaps we had better kill the eunuch to be assured of our safety. What say you?”

Amorges’ eyes fairly started out of their sockets as the two approached. Seeing that the threat had proved effectual, Phædime spurned the defenceless body with her foot and asked: “Will you intimate to Artabazus upon his return that violence was done you by the soldier who rescued Ladice, and that I tried to help you?”

The wretched fellow indicated affirmation as well as his bonds permitted and Phædime turned to Zopyrus and Ladice.

“Now go and may success crown your efforts.”

“Before we go,” said Zopyrus to Ladice, “you must don this garb to facilitate our escape.”

He held out to her a bundle of dark clothing. The girl withdrew to an adjoining chamber and soon appeared in the uniform of a Persian foot-soldier.
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“Your disguise is excellent,” exclaimed Zopyrus delightedly, “now let us hasten,” and with a brief expression of gratitude to Phædime for her share in the escape, he and Ladice took a hasty departure.

Only the glowing embers of camp-fires remained. The flickering deceptive shadows that had annoyed Zopyrus in his approach to the harem-tent had disappeared, and in their stead the encampment lay around the fugitives in the tranquil light of a full moon, the white tents gleaming like snow-covered hillocks. Already the Persian felt that this omen presaged success. They threaded the narrow alleys which separated the tents in silence so as not to betray their presence, and arrived without mishap at an intersection of alleys, about thirty yards from the tent of Mardonius.

“Let us turn to the left here,” whispered Zopyrus, “and thus avoid passing Mardonius’ tent.”

Scarcely had the words escaped his lips when the sound of footsteps and low talking broke the silence.

“What is your hurry? Why will you not abide the night with Mardonius till we decide whether or not it is advisable to attem............