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A month expired before the news arrived which changed everything. The Greek General Themistocles who had saved the population of Athens by persuading them to withdraw and who had then led the Greek navy to defeat the Persian fleet at Salamis was discredited by extremists and subsequently forced into exile. Ever since the battle to take Athens, a kind of status quo had been observed in the occupied Greek territories. Mardonius, after a couple of unfruitful skirmishes south of the ithsmus, had withdrawn to Asopus near Thebes for the winter. Themistocles, realising the futility of trying to raise an army large enough to push the Persians out of Macedonia, had thereby endeavoured to avoid further bloodshed by meeting secretly with Mardonius in order to form an alliance whereby the Greeks would be allowed to go about their normal daily lives and the Persian ego would be satisfied. It was in the middle of these fruitful arrangements which would keep both parties happy, that the fickle Athenians about-faced and declared Themistocles a traitor and gave command of the armed forces to recalled exiles Aristides and Xanthiapus.
It took all spring and summer for the Athenians to build up enough courage and manpower to challenge the Persians but, eventually, this they did in the northern foothills of Mount Cithaeron, close to Plataea. Mardonius, still hopeful of a chance to keep the peace and continue as Satrap, did not take the rebellion seriously. Instead of calling up Artabazanes in Thrace for assistance, he opted to go it alone and initially forced the army of one-hundred-and-ten thousand Greeks to retreat to the hills during the night. The Greek army was not much smaller than that of Persia and had Mardonius taken them seriously or sent a message to Artabazanes, the Persians would have held Greece for much longer than they did. Instead, the following morning, Mardonius followed the Greeks into the hills. The Spartan and Tegean Hoplites, under their commander, Pausanius, then used their own hills to their advantage and charged downhill at the double and overwhelmed the over-confident Persians. After but a few hours of fighting, Mardonius was killed and, without their leader, the totally demoralised Persians turned and fled in panic. On the same day, the Greek fleet changed to the offensive and King Leotychidas of Sparta launched his attack on the Persian fleet near Cape Mycale on the Asiatic coast close to Samos. The Persians beached their boats but Leotychidas landed to the north and, quite out of character for Greek seamen, marched overland and attacked from an entirely unexpected direction. It was not a complete rout. Artabazanes, wisely realising something was very definitely afoot, marched on the Greeks and firmly prevented any further advance towards Bythinia. However, in little more than one day, the Persians had lost virtually all they had gained during the whole of the previous year. Hostilities were to continue for a further thirteen years but, at least for the time being, any hopes Khshayarsha had nurtured of a Persian Europe had been abruptly dashed to pieces. The King took the news badly and went into severe depression. Astur and the now-reconciled Artaynte tried their best to bring him out of it but Khshayarsha turned in on himself and would hardly see or speak to anyone. Work continued at Persepolis, of course, but it had lost all sense of urgency without the drive from the King. If it hadn't been for the shrewd Haman, all control would have been lost. Visitors or emissaries were forbidden into the King's presence as he became almost paranoid about security. Everywhere he went, the Immortals accompanied him and simply to gain audience became a long and drawn-out process. Unless summoned, no-one was allowed into the royal presence and, without a specific invitation, any visitor to the palace was immediately executed without trial or reason. When in the King's company, a visitor was commanded to keep his hands inside his sleeves and any departure from this brought instant death from the guards whose instructions were very clear in the matter. Even the King's own sons were not exempt. Crown Prince Darius was infuriated over the matter. 'This is ridiculous. How on earth can we carry on the government of a World Empire like this?' 'You worry too much, my brother,' replied the younger Artakhshayarsha. 'Father will get over it when he has done with sulking over his precious Greece.' 'Now go and wash your mouth out,' said Astur firmly. 'I will not have you mocking your father in this way. He has done as much as anyone to hold the Empire together and even your grandfather got no further than Marathon.' 'Ah, yes,' said Artakhshayarsha. 'But he didn't get all depressed about it.' 'Maybe not. But your father has been under a lot of pressure lately. What he needs is help, not criticism.' 'Will that do any good?' asked Artaynte from her couch. Astur lifted her arms in the air. 'I don't know, I really don't know. Even I have been banished from his presence.' 'I'm not surprised,' sneered Artakhshayarsha. 'Making a fool of him over that Sataspes affair.' Astur simply glared at him. 'I think you had better apologise for that remark,' said Artaynte, swinging her feet to the floor. Darius stepped between them. 'None of this is helping. I think, Artakhshayarsha, you had better keep a civil tongue in your head. Insulting the Queen will not improve anything.' The younger son stood up. 'I might have known you would take her side in all this. You've had your beady eyes on our precious step-mother ever since we arrived from Persepolis. I suppose you want to bed her yourself now our father has lost interest in her.' The sound of the slap echoed from the marble walls as Artaynte confronted the Prince with a face red with rage. Artakhshayarsha raised his hand to her. 'Stop!' said Astur. 'I will not have you striking my maid or any other woman in the palace.' He glared at her. 'You would dare to threaten me, the son of the King?' Astur walked slowly towards him and placed a long finger in the middle of his chest. 'You know the law of the Persians and Medes, Artakhshayarsha. No-one is exempt, not even you.' The young man muttered some foul obscenity under his breath and then stomped out of the room. 'I'm sorry,' sighed Astur to Darius. 'That was unkind of me.' 'But truthful,' said the Crown Prince. 'Perhaps such truth should be heard more often in Shushan.' Astur smiled. 'When you become King, my Lord Darius, make it your aim.' 'You know something? I might just do that.'
PRIME Minister Haman was not a happy man. Already upset about his own daughter not being chosen as Queen, he was now mortally offended. After passing the gateway on his way from the Palace, he met someone he knew. 'So, my Lord Artabanus, I see you are still in Shushan.'
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 CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
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