This was one of his bravest commanders, sent with a detachment to ascertain whether the auxiliary army of thirty thousand men, under the command of Procopius and Sebastian, was not coming, with the troops of his ally Arsaces, to join the Emperor under the walls of Ctesiphon. Julian had long been awaiting this help, on which the fate of the principal army depended. "Bring him!" exclaimed the Emperor ... "or no, I myself will...." But his weakness was not yet dissipated, despite this momentary over-excitement. His head swam, he closed his eyes and had to support himself against the canvas wall of the tent. "Give me wine ... strong wine ... mixed with cold water." The old slave rapidly executed the order, and gave the cup to the Emperor, who drank slowly and issued from the tent. It was late in the evening. A storm had passed far into the distance across the Euphrates, and the wind was still fresh with the smell of rain. Rare stars, trembling like watchlights in the breeze, shone in the gapped cloud. From the desert came up the barkings of jackals. Julian laid bare his breast, held his forehead in the wind, surrendering himself to the soft breath of the sinking gale. He smiled at the thought of his own cowardice. His weakness had disappeared, strength returned to him. He was sensible of the tension of his own nerves, and felt eager to command, to act, to pass the night without sleep, to battle and play with life and death, and again to conquer peril. Only from time to time was he conscious of shivering. Ariphas came. The news was lamentable. All hope in the help of Procopius and Sebastian was lost. The Emperor was abandoned by his allies in the middle of Asia. There was even reason to suspect treason on the part of the wily Arsaces. At this moment it was announced that a deserter from the camp of Sapor desired to speak with the Emperor. This Persian prostrated himself before Julian and kissed the earth. His body was monstrous. His hideous head had been disfigured by Asiatic torture. The ears cut off, and the nostrils torn from the face, made his visage like that of a human skull. But the eyes were bright, intelligent, and resolute. He was robed in rich fire-coloured silk, spoke Greek villainously, and was accompanied by two slaves. The Persian called himself Artaban, a satrap calumniated to Sapor, who had therefore tortured him. He had come to the Romans, he said, for revenge on his own king. "O Lord of the Universe!" said Artaban, with fallacious emphasis, "I will deliver Sapor up to thee, bound hand and foot, like a sacrificial lamb. I will lead thee by night to the camp and softly shalt thy hand take the king, as children take young birds in their snares. Only hearken to Artaban: Artaban has plenitude of power, and knows the king's secrets." "What reward do you expect from me?" asked Julian. "Vengeance! Come with me!" "Whither?"