Jewel of Persia

Xerxes reined in his steed, his curiosity evident. “Why do you call to your god, old man?”


The native fell to his knees at the edge of the road, arms lifted. “Mighty Zeus, why do you parade about under the guise of a Persian and call yourself Xerxes? If you wish

to destroy Greece, you had no need to bring all of mankind with you—you could have done it under your own power.”

Xerxes tossed his head back in a roar of amusement. The old man looked baffled, but not offended. Still chuckling, Xerxes shook his head. “Where is your home?”

The man motioned toward a ramshackle hovel not far off the road. Xerxes pulled out a few rounds that glistened gold in the sun. “If I am Zeus, then these must have been

fired in the kilns of Hephaistos—perhaps that will increase their value.”

He tossed the handful of darics at the man, who scooped them up as if they were indeed manna from heaven. “Bless you, mighty Zeus, for hearing the prayers of a poor

husbandman!”

Xerxes chuckled again and urged his horse alongside the wagon. Kasia shook her head. “Greetings, Zeus. I would offer you hospitality, but I already promised a seat to my

husband.”

“Since when does Zeus care about such bonds?” He swung from horse to wagon in one smooth movement and pulled her close to nibble on her neck. “Mmm, mortal flesh. Much

softer than what can be found on the goddesses at Olympus.”

“You are terrible,” she said on a laugh, squirming away from the tickle of his beard. Wishing every moment might be like this.

He caught her lips and held them captive for a long moment. When he pulled away, his smile looked content. “I have asked the Spartan to join us.”

She had met Demaratus several times, always briefly. “Any reason?”

“He is the only man I trust with experience in a Greek military. I would put a few questions to him.”

“I have heard only a little about his people. Is it true all the men wear their hair long, as he does?”

Xerxes smiled. “Indeed. They hold that long hair makes a handsome man more beautiful and an ugly man fiercer. What do you think, having seen Demaratus? Is there truth in

that?”

“In order to judge, I would have to see you with long hair, my love, and decide if it could possibly increase your handsomeness.” She grinned and wove her fingers through

his. “Otherwise I only look at men and think, ‘He is nothing compared to Xerxes.’”

“The answer of a woman either madly in love or smart enough to flatter her jealous husband.” He chuckled and lifted their joined hands, kissed a knuckle. “I have also

heard they all exercise nude the morning of a battle, so that their enemies see their fitness, their fierceness, and are stricken with awe and terror.”

She could not tamp down a grin. “And shall I witness that for you, as well, so that I can lend you my opinion on its effectiveness?”

Zethar cut off his bark of laughter by leaning in to say, “The Spartan, master.”

Xerxes winked at her and murmured, “You will pay for that one later, my sweet. Now scoot over, if you will.”

She obliged, and Xerxes slid with her so that the once-king of the Lacedaemonians could vault up and take the spot on the end.

Demaratus greeted them with a respectful nod. “Good morning, my lord. Lady.”

“Demaratus.” Xerxes shifted a bit so that he was facing his guest. “I have a question for you, if you would offer me your advice.”

Demaratus’s brows lifted slightly. “Of course. What is it the king wishes to know?”

“About the Greeks. Tell me, will any of them stand their ground against me? It seems to me all the armies would have to unite to have any chance against my forces, which is

unprecedented. I would hear your opinion.”

One of the Spartan’s brows edged higher than the other. “Would you have a truthful answer, my lord, or a comforting one?”

Xerxes grinned. “Comfort avails little on the battlefield. Speak honestly, my friend—you will be no worse off for it, even if it displeases me.”

“Very well. The Greeks are an admirable people, hewn by intelligence and law, which alone have fended off poverty and despotism.” Demaratus paused and tilted his head.

“But I need only speak of the Spartans to answer your question. There is nothing you could ever say to them, my lord, to keep them from taking up arms against you. The

Spartans will fight, even if no other state does.”

Xerxes folded his arms. “Yet it is a small state, your Lacedaemon.”

“True. There may only be a thousand fighting men, possibly fewer. But they will fight.”

Something tightened in Kasia’s chest, though she knew not what it was. Something that wanted to believe such determination was possible, even as she hoped no one would

really challenge her husband.