The time passed, and it was eleven days since Zoroaster had set out. The
king and Nehushta had continued to meet in the garden as before, and
neither had ever referred to the day when the torrent of his heart had
been suddenly let loose. The hours sped quietly and swiftly, without any
event of importance. Only the strange bond, half friendship and half
love, had grown stronger than before; and Nehushta wondered how it was
that she could love two men so well, and yet so differently. Indeed they
were very different men. She loved Zoroaster, and yet it sometimes
seemed as though he would more properly have filled the place of a
friend than of a lover. Darius she had accepted as her friend, but there
were moments when she almost forgot that he was not something more. She
tried to think of her meeting with Zoroaster, whether it would be like
former meetings,--whether her heart would beat more strongly, or not
beat at all when her lips touched his as of old. Her judgment was
utterly disturbed and her heart no longer knew itself. She gave herself
over to the pleasure of the king's society in the abandonment of the
moment, half foreseeing that some great change was at hand, over which
she could exercise no control.
The sun was just risen, but the bridge over the quickly flowing Choaspes
was still in the shadow cast over the plain by the fortress and the
palace, when two horsemen appeared upon the road from Nineveh, riding
at full gallop, and, emerging from the blue mist that still lay over the
meadows, crossed the bridge and continued at full speed towards the
ascent to the palace.
The one rider was a dark, ill-favoured man, whose pale flaccid cheeks
and drooping form betrayed the utmost fatigue. A bolster was bound
across the withers of his horse and another on the croup, so that he sat
as in a sort of chair, but he seemed hardly able to support himself even
with this artificial assistance, and his body swayed from side to side
as his horse bounded over the sharp curve at the foot of the hill. His
mantle was white with dust, and the tiara upon his head was reduced to a
shapeless and dusty piece of crumpled linen, while his uncurled hair and
tangled beard hung forward together in disorderly and dust-clotted
ringlets.
His companion was Zoroaster, fair and erect upon his horse, as though he
had not ridden three hundred farsangs in eleven days. There was dust
indeed upon his mantle and garments, as upon those of the man he
conducted, but his long fair hair and beard blew back from his face as
he held his head erect to the breeze he made in riding, and the light
steel cap was bright and burnished on his forehead. A slight flush
reddened his pale cheeks as he looked upward to the palace, and thought
that his ride was over and his errand accomplished. He was weary, almost
to death; but his frame was elastic and erect still.
As they rode up the steep, the guards at the outer gate, who had already
watched them for twenty minutes as they came up the road, mere moving
specks under the white mist, shouted to those within that Zoroaster was
returning, and the officer of the gate went at once to announce his
coming to the king. Darius himself received the message, and followed
the officer down the steps to the tower of the gateway, reaching the
open space within, just as the two riders galloped under the square
entrance and drew rein upon the pavement of the little court. The
spearmen sprang to their feet and filed into rank as the cry came down
the steps that the king was approaching, and Zoroaster leaped lightly
from his horse, and bid Phraortes do likewise; but the wretched Median
could scarce move hand or foot without help, and would have fallen
headlong, had not two stout spearmen lifted him to the ground, and held
him upon his legs.
Darius marched quickly up to the pair and stood still, while Zoroaster
made his brief salutation. Phraortes, who between deadly fatigue and
deadly fear of his life, had no strength left in him, fell forward upon
his knees as the two soldiers relaxed their hold upon his arms.
"Hail, king of kings! Live for ever!" said Zoroaster. "I have fulfilled
thy bidding. He is alive."
Darius laughed grimly as he eyed the prostrate figure of the Median.
"Thou art a faithful servant, Zoroaster," he answered, "and thou ridest
as the furies that pursue the souls of the wicked--as the devils of the
mountains after a liar. He would not have lasted much farther, this
bundle of sweating dust. Get up, fellow!" he said, touching Phraortes's
head with his toe. "Thou liest grovelling there like a swine in a
ditch."
The soldiers raised the exhausted man to his feet. The king turned to
Zoroaster.
"Tell me, thou rider of whirlwinds," he said, laughing, "will a man more
readily tell the truth, or speak lies, when he is tired?"
"A man who is tired will do whichever will procure him rest," returned
Zoroaster, with a smile.
"Then I will tell this fellow that the sooner he speaks the truth the
sooner he may sleep," said the king. Going near to Zoroaster, he added
in an undertone: "Before thou thyself restest, go and tell the queen
privately that she send away her slaves, and await me and him thou hast
brought in a few minutes. This fellow must have a little refreshment, or
he will die upon the steps."
Zoroaster turned and went up the broad stairs, and threaded the courts
and passages, and mounted to the terrace where he had first met Atossa
before the king's apartments. There was no one there, and he was about
to enter under the great curtain, when the queen herself came out and
met him face to face. Though it was yet very early, she was attired with
more than usual care, and the faint colours of her dress and the few
ornaments she wore, shone and gleamed brightly in the level beams of the
morning sun. She had guessed that Zoroaster would return that day, and
she was prepared for him.
As she came suddenly upon him, she gave a little cry, that might well
have been feigned.
"What! Are you already returned?" she asked, and the joy her voice
expressed was genuine. He looked so godlike as he stood there in the
sunlight--her heart leaped for joy of only seeing him.
"Yes--I bear this message from the Great King to the queen. The Great
King commands that the queen send away her slaves, and await the king
and him I have brought with me, in the space of a few minutes."
"It is well," answered Atossa, "There are no slaves here and I await the
king." She was silent a moment. "Are you not glad to have come back?"
she asked, presently.
"Yes," said Zoroaster, whose face brightened quickly as he spoke. "I am
indeed glad to be here again. Would not any one be glad to have finished
such a journey?"
The queen stood with her back to the curtained doorway and could see
down the whole length of the balcony to the head of the staircase.
Zoroaster faced her and the door. As he spoke, Atossa's quick eyes
caught sight of a figure coming quickly up the last steps of the
stairway. She recognised Nehushta instantly, but no trembling of her
lids or colouring of her cheek, betrayed that she had seen the approach
of her enemy. She fixed her deep-blue eyes upon Zoroaster's, and gazing
somewhat sadly, she spoke in low and gentle tones:
"The time has seemed long to me since you rode away, Zoroaster," she
said.
Zoroaster, astonished at the manner in which she spoke, turned pale, and
looked down coldly at her beautiful face. At that moment Nehushta
stepped upon the smooth marble pavement of the balcony.
Still Atossa kept her eyes fixed on Zoroaster's.
"You answer me nothing?" she said in broken tones. Then suddenly, as
though acting under an irresistible impulse, she threw her arms wildly
about his neck and kissed him passionately again and again.
"Oh Zoroaster, Zoroaster, my beloved!" she cried, "you must never, never
leave me again!" And again she kissed him, and fell forward upon his
breast, holding him so tightly that, for a moment, he did not know which
way to move. He put his hands upon her shoulders, to her waist--to try
to push her from him. But it was in vain; she clung to him desperately
and sobbed upon his breast.
In the sudden and fearful embarrassment in which he was placed, he did
not hear a short, low groan far off behind him, nor the sound of quickly
retreating steps upon the stairs. But Atossa heard and rejoiced
fiercely; and when she looked up, Nehushta was gone, with the incurable
wound in her breast.
Atossa suddenly let her arms fall from the warrior's neck, looked into
his eyes once, and then, with a short, sharp cry, she buried her face in
her hands and leaned back against the door-post by the heavy striped
curtain.
"Oh, my God! What have I done?" she moaned.
Zoroaster stood for one moment in hesitation and doubt. It seemed as
though he had received a sudden revelation of numberless things he had
never understood. He spoke quietly, at last, with a great effort, and
his voice sounded kindly.
"I thank the good powers that I do not love thee--and I would that thou
didst not love me. For I am the Great King's servant, faithful to
death--and if I loved thee I should be a liar, and a coward, and the
basest of all mankind. Forget, I pray thee, that thou hast spoken, and
let me depart in peace. For the Great King is at hand, and thou must not
suffer that he find thee weeping, lest he think thou fearest to meet
Phraortes the Median face to face. Forget, I pray thee--and forgive thy
servant if he have done anything amiss."
Atossa looked up suddenly. Her eyes were bright and clear, and there was
not a trace of tears in them. She laughed harshly.
"I--weep before the king! You do not know me. Go, if thou wilt.
Farewell, Zoroaster,"--her voice softened a little,--"farewell. It may
be that you shall live, but it may be that you shall die, because I love
you."
Zoroaster bent his head in respectful homage, and turned and went his
way. The queen looked after him, and as he disappeared upon the
staircase, she began to smooth her head-dress and the locks of her
golden hair, and for a moment, she smiled sweetly to herself.
"That was a mortal wound, well dealt," she said aloud. But as she gazed
out over the city, her face grew grave and thoughtful. "But I do love
him," she added softly, "I do--I do--I loved him long ago." She turned
quickly, as though fearing some one had overheard her. "How foolish I
am!" she exclaimed impatiently; and she turned and passed away under the
heavy curtain, leaving the long balcony once more empty,--save for the
rush of a swallow that now and then flew in between the pillars, and
hovered for a moment high up by the cornice, and sped out again into the
golden sunshine of the summer morning.
Zoroaster left Atossa with the hope of finding some means of seeing
Nehushta. But it was impossible. He knew well that he could not so far
presume as to go to her apartment by the lower passage where he had last
seen her on the day of his departure for Ecbatana, and the slave whom he
despatched from the main entrance of the women's part of the palace
returned with the brief information that Nehushta was alone in her
chamber, and that no one dared disturb her.
Worn out with fatigue and excitement, and scarcely able to think
connectedly upon the strange event of the morning, Zoroaster wearily
resigned himself to seeing Nehushta at a later hour, and entering his
own cool chamber, lay down to rest. It was evening when he awoke.
Meanwhile the king commanded that Phraortes should be fed and refreshed,
and immediately brought to the queen's apartment. Half an hour after
Zoroaster had left her, Atossa was in the chamber which was devoted to
her toilet. She sat alone before her great silver mirror, calmly
awaiting the turn of events. Some instinct had told her that she would
feel stronger to resist an attack in the sanctuary of her small inner
room, where every object was impregnated with her atmosphere, and where
the lattices of the two windows were so disposed that she would be able
to see the expression of her adversaries without exposing her own face
to the light.
She leaned forward and looked closely at herself in the glass, and with
a delicate brush of camel's hair smoothed one eyebrow that was a little
ruffled. It had touched Zoroaster's tunic when she threw herself upon
his breast; she looked at herself with a genuine artistic pleasure, and
smiled.
Before long she heard the sound of leathern shoes upon the pavement
outside, and the curtain was suddenly lifted. Darius pushed Phraortes
into the room by the shoulders and made him stand before the queen. She
rose and made a salutation, and then sat down again in her carved chair.
The king threw himself upon a heap of thick, hard cushions that formed a
divan on one side of the room, and prepared to watch attentively the two
persons before him.
Phraortes, trembling with fear and excessive fatigue, fell upon his
knees before Atossa, and touched the floor with his forehead.
"Get upon thy feet, man," said the king shortly, "and render an account
of the queen's affairs."
"Stay," said Atossa, calmly; "for what purpose has the Great King
brought this man before me?"
"For my pleasure," answered Darius. "Speak fellow! Render thy account,
and if I like not the manner of thy counting, I will crucify thee."
"The king liveth for ever," said Phraortes feebly, his flaccid cheeks
trembling, as his limbs moved uneasily.
"The queen also liveth for ever," remarked Darius. "What is the state
of the queen's lands at Ecbatana?"
At this question Phraortes seemed to take courage, and began a rapid
enumeration of the goods, cattle and slaves.
"This year I have sown two thousand acres of wheat which will soon be
ripe for the harvest. I have sown also a thousand acres with other
grain. The fields of water-melons are yielding with amazing abundance
since I caused the great ditches to be dug last winter towards the road.
As for the fruit trees and the vinelands, they are prospering; but at
present we have not had rain to push the first budding of the grapes.
The olives will doubtless be very abundant this year, for last year
there were few, as is the manner with that fruit. As for the yielding of
these harvests of grain and wine and oil and fruit, I doubt not that the
whole sales will amount to an hundred talents of gold."
"Last year they only yielded eighty-five," remarked the queen, who had
affected to listen to the whole account with the greatest interest. "I
am well pleased, Phraortes. Tell me of the cattle and sheep--and of the
slaves; whether many have died this year."
"There are five hundred head of cattle, and one hundred calves dropped
in the last two months. From the scarcity of rain this year, the fodder
has been almost destroyed, and there is little hay from the winter. I
have, therefore, sent great numbers of slaves with camels to the farther
plains to eastward, whence they return daily with great loads of hay--of
a coarse kind, but serviceable. As for the flocks, they are now
pasturing for the summer upon the slopes of the Zagros mountains. There
were six thousand head of sheep and two thousand head of goats at the
shearing in the spring, and the wool is already sold for eight talents.
As for the slaves, I have provided for them after a new fashion. There
were many young men from the captives that came after the war two years
ago. For these I have purchased wives of the dealers from Scythia. These
Scythians sell all their women at a low price. They are hideous
barbarians, speaking a strange tongue, but they are very strong and
enduring, and I doubt not they will multiply exceedingly and bring large
profits--"
"Thou art extraordinarily fluent in thy speech," interrupted the king.
"But there are details that the queen wishes to know. Thou art aware
that in a frontier country like the province of Ecbatana, it is often
necessary to protect the crops and the flocks from robbers. Hast thou
therefore thought of arming any of these slaves for this purpose?"
"Let not the king be angry with his servant," returned Phraortes,
without hesitation. "There are many thousand soldiers of the king in
Echatana, and the horsemen traverse the country continually. I have not
armed any of the slaves, for I supposed we were safe in the protection
of the king's men. Nevertheless, if the Great King command me--"
"Thou couldst arm them immediately, I suppose?" interrupted Darius. He
watched Atossa narrowly; her face was in the shadow.
"Nay," replied Phraortes, "for we have no arms. But if the king will
give us swords and spearheads--"
"To what end?" asked Atossa. She was perfectly calm since she saw that
there was no fear of Phraortes making a mistake upon this vital point.
"What need have I of a force to protect lands that are all within a
day's journey of the king's fortress? The idea of carrying weapons would
make all the slaves idle and quarrelsome. Leave them their spades and
their ploughs, and let them labour while the soldiers fight. How many
slaves have I now, Phraortes?"
"There were, at the last return, fourteen thousand seven hundred and
fifty-three men, ten thousand two hundred and sixteen women, and not
less than five thousand children. But I expect--"
"What can you do with so many?" asked Darius, turning sharply to the
queen.
"Many of them work in the carpet-looms," answered Phraortes. "The queen
receives fifty talents yearly from the sales of the carpets."
"All the carpets in the king's apartments are made in my looms," said
Atossa, with a smile. "I am a great merchant."
"I have no doubt I paid you dearly enough for them, too," said the king,
who was beginning to be weary of the examination. He had firmly expected
that either the Median agent, or the queen herself, would betray some
emotion at the mention of arming the slaves, for he imagined that if
Atossa had really planned any outbreak, she would undoubtedly have
employed the large force of men she had at her disposal, by finding them
weapons and promising them their liberty in the event of success.
He was disappointed at the appearance of the man Phraortes. He had
supposed him a strong, determined, man of imperious ways and turbulent
instincts, who could be easily led into revolution and sedition from the
side of his ambition. He saw before him the traditional cunning,
quick-witted merchant of Media, pale-faced and easily frightened; no
more capable of a daring stroke of usurpation than a Jewish pedlar of
Babylon. He was evidently a mere tool in the hands of the queen; and
Darius stamped impatiently upon the floor when he thought that he had
perhaps been deceived after all--that the queen had really written to
Phraortes simply on account of her property, and that there was no
revolution at all to be feared. Impulsive to the last degree, when the
king had read the letter to Phraortes, his first thought had been to see
the man for himself, to ask him a few questions and to put him at once
to death if he found him untruthful. The man had arrived, broken with
excessive fatigue and weak from the fearful journey; but under the very
eye of the king, he had nevertheless given a clear and concise account
of himself; and, though he betrayed considerable fear, he gave no reason
for supposing that what he said was not true. As for the queen, she sat
calmly by, polishing her nails with a small instrument of ivory,
occasionally asking a question, or making a remark, as though it were
all the most natural occurrence in the world.
Darius was impetuous and fierce. His intuitive decisions were generally
right, and he acted upon them instantly, without hesitation; but he had
no cunning and little strategy. He was always for doing and never for
waiting; and to the extreme rapidity of his movements he owed the
success he had. In the first three years of his reign he fought nineteen
battles and vanquished nine self-styled kings; but he never, on any
occasion, detected a conspiracy, nor destroyed a revolution before it
had broken out openly. He was often, therefore, at the mercy of Atossa
and frequently found himself baffled by her power of concealing a subtle
lie under the letter of truth, and by her supreme indifference and
coldness of manner under the most trying circumstances. In his simple
judgment it was absolutely impossible for any one to lie directly
without betraying some hesitation, and each time he endeavoured to place
Atossa in some difficult position, when she must, he thought, inevitably
betray herself, he was met by her inexplicable calm; which he was forced
to attribute to the fact that she was in the right--no matter how the
evidence might be against her.
The king decided that he had made a mistake in the present instance and
that Phraortes was innocent of any idea of revolution. He could not
conceive how such a man should be capable of executing a daring stroke
of policy. He determined to let him go.
"You ought to be well satisfied with the result of these accounts," he
said, staring hard at Atossa. "You see you know more of your affairs,
and sooner, than you could have known if you had sent your letter. Let
this fellow go, and tell him to send his accounts regularly in future,
or he will have the pains of riding hither in haste to deliver them.
Thou mayest go now and take thy rest," he added, rising and pushing the
willing Phraortes before him out of the room.
"Thou hast done well. I am satisfied with thee, Phraortes," said Atossa
coldly.
Once more the beautiful queen was left alone, and once more she looked
at herself in the silver mirror, somewhat more critically than before.
It seemed to her as she gazed and turned first one side of her face to
the light and then the other, that she was a shade paler than usual. The
change would have been imperceptible to any one else, but she noticed it
with a little frown of disapproval. But presently she smoothed her brow
and smiled happily to herself. She had sustained a terrible danger
successfully.
She had hoped to have been able to warn Phraortes how to act; but,
partly because the meeting had taken place so soon after his arrival,
and partly because she had employed a portion of that brief interval
with Zoroaster and in the scene she had suddenly invented and acted, she
had been obliged to meet her chief agent without a moment's preparation,
and she knew enough of his cowardly character to fear lest he should
betray her and throw himself upon the king's mercy as a reward for the
information he could give. But the crucial moment had passed
successfully and there was nothing more to fear. Atossa threw herself
upon the couch where the king had sat, and abandoned herself to the
delicious contemplation of the pain she must have given in showing
herself to Nehushta in Zoroaster's arms. She was sure that as the
princess could not have seen Zoroaster's face, she must have thought
that it was he who was embracing the queen. She must have suffered
horribly, if she really loved him!