Since first dusk the army of Cyrus had been in motion: the horse-archers of Tartary, the Hindoo infantry, the Persian lancers. The army marched in silence, no kettle-drums thundering, no war-horns blaring, the commands sent softly down the long line, from officer to officer. When the last bars of light had flickered out in the west, there had come a halt; bread and wine were passed among the men, the horses were watered in a canal: and Orasmasdes, chief of the Magians, shook incense into the portable altar carried beside the king, and offered prayer. Softly yet clearly rose the song in praise of Mithra, the great minister of Ahura-Mazda:— “His chariot is borne onward by Holiness. The law of Ahura shall open the way for him; At his right hand speeds Obedience the holy, At his left hand flies powerful Justice, Behind him drives lie-smiting Fire!” When the chant was finished the General Gobryas rode up beside the royal chariot. “Lord of the Aryans, what shall be the battle-cry to-night?” And Cyrus, leaning from the car, made answer, “Give this battle-cry to the host, as it shall enter Babylon,—‘For Ahura, for Atossa!’” The officer bowed, vanished in the deepening gloom. Cyrus turned to his charioteer. “Forward!” he commanded softly. The reins shook over the white Nisæans. As the chariot moved onward, the thousands made haste to follow. Once Atrobanes, the “handkerchief-bearer,” who cantered beside his lord, ventured remonstrance. “Will not your Majesty take your litter? My lord is not so young as once. If he drive all night, he will grow weary.” Cyrus stood erect upon the car, taller seemingly than ever. “Peace, good friend; the king of the Aryans has at least the strength to ride when his children are marching, and with such a prize before!” “True,” quoth the other, as he rode beside, “even your Majesty does not often stretch forth his hands to take a Babylon.” “Do you think I ride for Babylon this night?” demanded the king, almost angrily. But Atrobanes did not reply; he knew the guerdon of all the deeds that night would not be “The Lady of Kingdoms” but the Lady Atossa. So onward in the darkness, the trailing host keeping wondrously still. They had wound wisps of hay around shield and scabbard and over the horses’ hoofs to deaden all noise. As the night advanced, the sense of awe sank deeper. Even the beasts gave no whinny; only as one clapped an ear close to the earth would he have caught the jar and rhythm of many men marching. The sky along one horizon was just beginning to overcast and hide a few stars. Soldier muttered to soldier, “There will be a storm,—lightning and thunder.” But for the hour all the elements kept silence, with no wind creeping across the plain or lifting the lifeless pennons. Cyrus had ridden long without speaking, when the muffled canter of two horsemen sounded, approaching from ahead. A moment later Darius and Isaiah were reining beside the monarch’s car.