"Though the Great King shows that when spirit and birth unite, royalty comes near godhood," said an officer with practiced readiness. "I am therefore pleased to present to you all a veritable Atalanta--or an Amazon princess--or even an Athena, wise as well as valiant. Let Phryne of Hellas stand forth!" She walked from the inner door, urged by a chamberlain. Her garb was dazzling--long lustrous gown and flowing silken mantle, her hair and throat and arms a barbaric blaze of finery. It came as a wrenching in Eodan that she should look so unhappy. She advanced with downcast eyes and prostrated herself. "No--up, up!" boomed Mithradates. "The King would have you share his place." Eodan heard a muffled snicker at the table's end. Blood beat thickly in his temples; what right had some Asiatic to laugh at a Greek? His eyes ranged in search of the man, to deal with him later. By the time he looked back, Phryne had reclined beside Mithradates on the royal couch. "Know," said the ruler in his customary Greek, "she spent her last wealth and risked life, freedom and honor to journey here from Sinope that she might plead the case of her comrades. And before then she had shared the perils of flight from Rome and battle at sea--and she is learned enough to instruct the children of noblemen. Therefore I say a queen's heart lies behind those fair breasts, and it shall have a queen's honor. Drink, Phryne!" He took up his huge silver chalice and gave it to her with his own hands. A low, envious gasp sighed down the length of the table. Phryne lifted her decorous veil to put the cup at her lips. "Ha, ha!" shouted Mithradates. "See, she is beautiful as well! Let the feast begin!" It was no banquet at all, compared to the least meal in Sinope--little more than a roast ox and several kinds of fowl, stuffed with rice and olives. No acrobats or trained women being available, some young Gauls offered a perilous sword dance, and a Phrygian wizard showed such tricks as releasing doves from an empty box. Thus Tjorr enjoyed it better than any he had attended before; his guffaws rang between the guardsmen's shields until even Flavius had to smile a little. Eodan hardly noticed what passed his eyes and teeth; he was too aware of the Roman. When the meal was at last over, an expectant silence fell. Mithradates leaned toward Flavius. "Your account of your adventures was ungraciously curt today," he said smiling. "Now we would hear more fully. You can be no ordinary man, who so endangered the Cimbrian." "Your Majesty flatters me," said Flavius. "I am a most ordinary Roman." "Then you flatter your state. Though you belittled it earlier, in contending that one man might be so great a danger to it." "Would not Your Majesty alone be the greatest danger to us, were we so unfortunate as to lose your good will?"