“Thou art fair, daughter of Jerusalem,” said the king presently.  “I remember thy beauty, for I saw thee in Ecbatana.  I sent for thee and thy kinsfolk that I might do thee honour; and I will also fulfil my words.  I will take thee to be my wife.”

Darius spoke quietly, in his usual tone of absolute determination.  But if the concentrated fury of a thousand storms had suddenly broken loose in the very midst of the tent, the effect could not have been more terrible on his hearers.

Nehushta’s face flushed suddenly, and for a moment she trembled in every joint; then she fell on her knees, prostrate before the king’s feet, all the wealth of her splendid hair falling loose about her.  Darius sat still, as though watching the result of his speech.  He might have sat long, but in an instant, Zoroaster sprang between the king and the kneeling woman; and the golden goblet he had held rolled across the thick carpet on the ground, while the rich red wine ran in a slow stream towards the curtains of the door.  His face was livid and his eyes like coals of blue fire, his fair locks and his long golden beard caught the torchlight and shone about him like a glory, as he stood up to his grand height and faced the king.  Darius never quailed nor moved; his look met Zoroaster’s with fearless boldness.  Zoroaster spoke first, in low accents of concentrated fury: 

“Nehushta the princess is my betrothed bride.  Though thou wert king of the stars as well as king of the earth, thou shalt not have her for thy wife.”

Darius smiled, not scornfully, an honest smile of amusement, as he stared at the wrathful figure of the northern man before him.

“I am the king of kings,” he answered.  “I will marry this princess of Judah to-morrow, and thee I will crucify upon the highest turret of Shushan, because thou speakest lies when thou sayest I shall not marry her.”

“Fool! tempt not thy God!  Threaten not him who is stronger than thou, lest he slay thee with his hands where thou sittest.”  Zoroaster’s voice sounded low and distinct as the knell of relentless fate, and his hand went out towards the king’s throat.

Until this moment, Darius had sat in his indifferent attitude, smiling carelessly, though never taking his eye from his adversary.  Brave as the bravest, he scorned to move until he was attacked, and he would have despised the thought of calling to his guards.  But when Zoroaster’s hand went out to seize him, he was ready.  With a spring like a tiger, he flew at the strong man’s throat, and sought to drag him down, striving to fasten his grip about the collar of his cuirass, but Zoroaster slipped his hand quickly under his adversary’s, his sleeve went back and his long white arm ran like a fetter of steel about the king’s neck, while his other hand gripped him by the middle; so they held each other like wrestlers, one arm above the shoulder and one below, and strove with all their might.