THE MADNESS OF CAMBYSES
The King of Egypt fled on his swift dromedary, while the men who had
marched with him to battle gave up their lives in his behalf and a
red riot of slaughter stained the desert sands. The Persian cavalry,
now unhindered by any organized resistance, carried death to the
despairing, panting fugitives who fled from the contest. The Egyptian
army was annihilated. Barely did the King himself enter his city of
Memphis and close its gates ere the Prince of Iran, at the head of a
picked body of men on horses almost spent with rapid going, appeared
and demanded his surrender. The vast array of invaders soon spread
over the fertile valley of Egypt and shut the king so closely within
his city-walls that no succor could enter and only hope could flee.
Psammenitus, unable to face a hero’s death, bowed to the power of the
King of Kings, surrendered into his hands his crown, and acknowledged
him as lord. He took his place with other captive kings at the table of
his master and ate in bitterness of spirit the bread of peace.
Victory having come to him easily, Cambyses became puffed up and
arrogated to himself divine attributes. Secretly his heart was eaten
with envy of the Prince of Iran, the idol of the army, to whom all men
attributed the great victory. As a result, the king openly slighted the
Prince, relieved him of the general command, placed other officers
near his own person and through them issued his orders. Leaving barely
enough troops to garrison lower Egypt, Cambyses himself led a great
army southward into Ethiopia; but, as he had failed to take into
account the vast deserts through which he had to pass to reach that
region, his army soon came to want and starvation, and half of the
soldiers composing it died of disease and privation. Had not the Prince
of Iran asserted his prerogatives, assumed command of the garrisons of
Egypt, and gathered a great caravan which he sent to the King’s relief,
the remainder of the ill-fated army would have perished. Undeterred by
this experience, the King sent a second expedition against the people
of the oasis of Ammon and the priests of its great temple; but the
whole army perished in a mighty sand-storm. He contemplated a third
expedition for the reduction of Carthage and the northern littoral of
Africa; but it failed because the Phœnicians refused to give the aid of
their fleets against their kindred.
All of these events consumed much time. Meanwhile in Egypt the King of
Kings ruled with an iron hand. He looked with suspicion upon everybody.
Knowing that he was loved by none, he filled his court with spies that
he might detect any who would dare even to whisper against him. He
blotted out in the blood of Psammenitus and his relatives an incipient
revolt of the Egyptians, who, encouraged by the vast misfortunes that
had befallen the army of their conqueror, dared to dream of liberty.
He derided the Egyptian gods, closed their temples and made granaries
of them, and slew the sacred bull, Apis, with his own sword. His
jealousy led him to murder many of his own officers. Some of the most
valiant men of the army upon slight pretext were arrested and executed
summarily; others were found dead from the stabs of hired assassins.
The Prince of Iran now habitually wore a coat of mail beneath his
tunic, and to it he owed safety twice from the weapons of assassins.
Once in the night, as he walked alone in the garden of the palace
occupied by him as headquarters, a man leaped upon him and drove a
javelin into his back, almost hurling him to the earth, but, owing to
the mail, only bruising him. The assassin escaped. An arrow, shot from
the shadow of a deserted temple as he rode by, slightly wounded his
left arm and rebounded from the mail on his body. Again the assassin
escaped. Thereafter Gobryas and other officers insisted that the Prince
keep a powerful body-guard around him; and the King, having been
informed of the attempts on his life, could not reasonably object.
One day shortly after King Cambyses had departed on his expedition
against Ethiopia, the Prince walked alone in the garden surrounding
his dwelling in Memphis, examining with much interest the flowers and
shrubs growing there. He had no duties to perform. Others administered
the civil offices. Five thousand only of his own troopers were in the
city under his command; and except to watch them drill and see that
they were fed, he had nothing to do. His thoughts were of Athura and
of the many messengers he had dispatched to the east in search of her.
Presently as he drew near to the street-gate, he noticed a beggar
sitting by the gate apparently resting and asleep. He glanced at the
man, whose countenance was that of a Hebrew, and was about to turn
away, when the beggar opened his eyes and at once prostrated himself
with his face in the dust.
“Live forever, O friend of God!” said the beggar. “Do I indeed behold
the mighty Prince of Iran?” He spoke in the Medean dialect.
The Prince answered: “You have said who I am. What do you wish?”
“I bear a message.”
“Arise and deliver it.”
The man arose and, taking from his tunic a small packet, delivered it
to the Prince, at the same time ejaculating with a deep sigh of relief:
“Praise be to the God of Abraham! I have kept my word to the Prophet!”
The Prince tore off the wrappings and unfolded a sheet of papyrus, on
which was written in a hand he well knew:
“_To my beloved, the Prince of my Soul, greeting_:
“The bearer of this letter is to be trusted even as his master, the
one who met you on the banks of the Choaspes and showed you the
spirit of your ancestor, is to be trusted. He will tell you many
things of me. He cannot tell how much I long to be with you or how my
heart is sick with anxiety for your safety. How long are the days!
How lonely the nights! But lest the one whose shadow darkens the
world should pursue me or injure you, I have long kept silence. Now
I must hear from you. I have promised the messenger great rewards
and I know that you will make good my promises. Send him back to me
quickly, for my soul is exceedingly weary and sick with waiting for
word from you. Farewell, beloved!”
The missive was unsigned, but the Prince knew from whom it came. His
heart leaped with such joy that he became dizzy and he staggered like a
drunken man. Recovering his usual calm demeanor with a mighty effort,
he said: “Though in the guise of a beggar you come, son of Abraham,
yet do you appear to me as an angel of light, bringing joy to my soul
such as I have not felt for many sad days! Know you the writer of this?
Have you seen her lately? How is she? Speak, man! Great shall be your
reward!”
The man’s face shone with joy. The gladness he had brought to this
great one of earth was infectious. He arose and stood in humble
attitude.
“Great Lord,” he said. “I have not seen this star of the morning for
three months, having come hither by a long journey; but, when mine
eyes looked upon her as I started to come hither, they were blinded
by the light of her eyes and I shaded them before the majesty of her
countenance. Like a rose of Sharon is she! Like a cedar on Lebanon
stands she, strong and beautiful! The music of her voice is as the song
of many waters and loveliness enshrouds her as the darkness enshrouds
the moon! Behold, are not all men her slaves? They upon whom she deigns
to smile would cast themselves to the lions if she commanded, or would
fall upon their own swords if she wished. She is well, but she is not
happy; for she speaks much of my lord, the Prince of Iran, and sighs
because she sees him not.”
“Where is she?”
“She is with the prophet of God, the great Daniel, known to you as
Belteshazzer, in an oasis of the desert of Arabia. The sons of the
desert are kindred to the prophet and they dwell happily and safely
together. None except I and her two maids know who the royal maiden is.
Most happy am I to enjoy the trust of the great master!”
“Then she escaped, indeed! O thou glorious life-giving Spirit,
Ahura-Mazda, I thank thee!”
The Prince raised his eyes to the blue vault of heaven and removed
the helmet from his head. The Hebrew watched him sympathetically;
then, as the Prince turned to him again, he said, “Yes, Great Lord,
she escaped from the palace at night and rode on a horse to the rock
known as Behistun on the road to Susa. There my master, moved by the
spirit, met her and took her with him into the desert ten days’ journey
west of Babylon, where in all honor and safety they have kept her. I
am requested to bear to her again a message from you, if it please you
to give me one. Her message was unsigned and bore no words by which
its meaning would be known, had I fallen into the hands of the King.
But I can discourse to you of her. The prophet sends to you greeting,
with words of good cheer. He bids me say that the times and seasons are
changing rapidly and that great events will happen presently, in which
you will have large part.”
“Come, then, into my house, servant of Belteshazzer!” said the Prince.
“You shall have great rewards. You shall be fed and clothed and be
given riches beyond your dreams. We will spend the remainder of this
day in converse of her and of her great protector.”
The Prince led the way into his dwelling, and there his servants
hurried to bathe and dress the messenger and to set before him victual
and drink. And while he ate, his royal host sat near, plying him with
questions. It was a great day in the life of Eleazer, the scribe,
servant and confidential friend of Belteshazzer, the prophet of God. In
the years to follow, when his host had become the mighty King of Kings,
he never tired of relating this interview to his sons and to his son’s
sons, and how the gracious Prince had talked familiarly with him as
with a friend.
Three days later, escorted by a strong body of Persian cavalry, he
returned by way of Damascus to Babylon, loaded with riches. At Babylon
he left his escort, resumed his disguise, and went into the desert,
bearing with him a message from the Prince of Iran to Athura. This
related the giving of the King’s consent to their marriage and advised
her that it would be safe for her to go to Persepolis and there dwell
in seclusion with his mother, under the guardianship of King Hystaspis,
who had returned there, until the close of the present campaign. Then
he would come and marry her, and thereafter defy Cambyses.
Weary of the tent-life of the desert, she prevailed upon Belteshazzer
to go with her to Persepolis. Here he and the philosophical King of
Iran spent many happy days in study and learned dispute, while she,
protected from danger by a strong guard of the King’s own men, resided
in comfort and safety, waiting with patience the coming of her chosen
one.
Meanwhile the King of Kings, having suffered the severe reverses
of fortune before mentioned, had abandoned himself to drunkenness
and debauchery. His evil temper, aggravated by his reverses, was
ungoverned. On the slightest provocation, he slew servants with his
own hands or caused them to be cruelly tortured. If his spies or
favorites mentioned unfavorably an officer or soldier, death, often
accompanied by tortures, such as flaying alive, impaling on stakes,
or dismemberment, was inflicted upon the unfortunate accused. He even
dared seize and execute several noble Persians, thus carrying into
effect his jealous resolve to reduce their haughty spirits. Finally a
day came, when a dreadful murder forced to action a conspiracy among
prominent Persians to dethrone him.
Cambyses and his sister-wife were at dinner, when the King, after
alluding to her sad countenance, derisively said to her: “You are like
these other proud, upstart Persians, moping about with disapproving
countenance! They shall all learn to bow the knee and to fall on their
faces in the dust before me, or they shall die! Who am I that I should
bear with them? I swear by Ahriman, that I will arrest every Persian
officer; and on the morrow twelve shall die, on the day after twelve
more shall die, and on each succeeding day a like number, until they
are finished!”
He banged his great fist down upon the table before him. His sister was
greatly moved. Her state of health was such that she was extremely weak
and nervous. Her face was white and her eyes were full of horror. The
half-drunken King, noticing her look of repulsion, was infuriated, and,
calling her a vile name, shouted: “What? Do you also defy me? Speak,
craven, ere I tear out your tongue!”
The spirit in the child-woman suddenly blazed up and, arising from the
couch where she had been reclining, she stood before the brute with
clenched hands and flashing eyes.
“Murderer!” she cried. “You have abandoned all good! You are all evil!
You foully murdered Bardya! You have driven Athura to her death! You
have dishonored me! Would you murder all the Aryan race? Are you a
Persian? Or are you a devil?”
For a moment Cambyses was too dazed to speak. Never had any one
addressed him thus. Lashed to insane fury by her words, he sprang
up with stuttering curses, knocked the frail woman down, and jumped
upon her prostrate body with his feet, stamping and crushing her into
insensibility. The servants screamed, and some of them endeavored to
prevent him; but he drew a dagger and stabbed one to death, wounded
another, and drove all out of his presence. Then, recovering his
senses somewhat and stricken with remorse, he knelt at the side of his
sister and wept aloud. He then called for his surgeons and bade them
save her or die. They tried faithfully to restore her to consciousness,
but without avail. She died within the hour.
This horrible crime soon became known among the Persians. There were
then encamped near Memphis about fifty thousand men, the remnant of
the Aryans who had followed the King into Egypt. Conferences were at
once held among the Persian officers and it was decided that Cambyses,
being insane, should be deposed. The Prince of Iran had no part in
these deliberations. With Gobryas and a body-guard, he had gone to
visit the nearest pyramids and had been absent several days. Spies duly
reported to the King the discontent of the army. On the next day after
the murder of his sister, the King caused the arrest of fifty of the
chief officers of the army, many of them sons of the highest nobility
of Iran. True to his oath, taken before his sister, he slew twelve of
them and caused their heads to be hung on the gates of the city with an
inscription warning all traitors of a like fate. At once there was a
vast uproar. The Aryan troops arose in a mass and marched into Memphis
to seize the King. A bloody battle took place in the gardens of the
King’s palace, in which the King’s body-guard was cut in pieces and its
remnants driven into the palace, where behind heavy gates and doors
they pantingly awaited death. Prexaspes commanded the body-guard and
made a brave defense. But the veteran Persians and Bactrians were not
to be repulsed. They were about to batter down the palace gates, when
the Prince of Iran arrived. Immediately the infuriated men raised a
roar of welcome and thrust upon him at once the chief command, begging
him to lead them and to allow them to set him up as King.
The King was not deficient in physical courage. Sobered at last
by the awful results of his fury in the murder of his sister, and
caring little what the end of this revolt might be, desperate and
savage, ready to fight to the end, he paced back and forth behind
the battlements surrounding the roof of the great palace wherein he
was besieged, and glowered sullenly down upon the raging mob below.
Prexaspes came to him, ostensibly for orders but really to advise that
overtures of peace be made. To him the King said rabidly: “What! Will
you turn against me also? Why not go down and join those? Perhaps they
will honor you! Saw you not that Prince of Iran out yonder? I thought
I saw him ride up. Even now, if I mistake not, he stands yonder in the
midst of his officers planning how best to take me. Bring up a dozen of
the best archers. Him at least shall they slay!”
Prexaspes shook his head impatiently, and, while keeping his eye on the
King lest the latter might attack him, he said harshly: “Have I not
said that the Prince of Iran is oath-bound to you? He alone can save
you this day! Would you slay the only man who can call off those wolves
yonder? It is madness to slay him. We shall be torn limb for limb if he
save us not!”
The King did not answer immediately. He watched the movements of the
mob with tiger-like eyes. He saw Prince Hystaspis pass slowly through
the mob and observed that the officers were also passing back and forth
shouting orders. He saw the men falling in with orderly precision
and, in a few minutes, that the mob had become an army. Company after
company formed in the open garden and the adjacent streets, until on
all sides of the palace a solid cordon of men stood at rest with
officers duly advanced before them. Prexaspes waited impatiently for
orders, but the King only ordered wine to be brought.
The Prince of Iran had said to the officers who were directing the
mob: “Captains of Iran, I am grieved to the heart! Never before have
the Aryans turned on their King in this manner and assaulted his high
Majesty! But the provocation has been great! Nevertheless, if the
Aryans rule the world, they must obey their kings! By your act you
have forfeited your lives and under the law are as dead men! I will
go to the King and seek his pardon for you and for those he now holds
in prison. Speak to the men and say that I, the Prince of Iran, their
commander, order them to desist until I go to the King and return!”
Up spoke a grizzled veteran, who had campaigned with Cyrus: “O most
beloved Prince, go not to the King! Does he not hate you? Has he not
without cause murdered his brother and his two sisters? Why do the
heads of our comrades hang on yonder walls? By the great God, we have
sworn that he shall release the others or die! He is a madman, and it
is no treason to dethrone him. Go not to him! He will slay you also!”
The Prince looked upon the rugged face of the speaker with love, but he
said reprovingly: “I know your heart, Arbax; but you forget that he is
the son of Cyrus, the Great King. What of me? Have I not suffered at
his hands? Yet do I counsel obedience. Will you not be guided by me?”
“Always and forever!” answered Arbax. “But is it not just to demand
that he release our officers as well as pardon the men?”
“It is just. If he refuse, then indeed is he mad and you do well to
take him from the throne. I will go to him demanding this. Will you
abide the result?”
A common assent was given by all. Only Gobryas, whose soul was bitter
because of the death of Artistone, exclaimed: “Prince and brother, let
me carry this demand to the King, and you remain here! If he refuse our
request, or slay me, it will matter little. There may be no need of
further rioting! Let me go in your stead.”
But the Prince shook his head. To send Gobryas meant to send death to
the King, as the latter, he knew, was in a mood to slay the monster who
had crushed the life out of the woman he loved.
“Have patience, my brother,” said the Prince. “The state is above all
else. Shall we slay our King and plunge the whole world into anarchy?
Every subject nation would revolt. We are in the midst of our enemies
and far from home with a weakened army. Terror of the King of Kings
lies heavy upon the subject-peoples. It must not be removed now. No,
the time is not ripe! Iran must be prepared to set up another King
before throwing down this one. The King will see the justice of our
demands.”
Another captain spoke up, voicing the decision of all: “We will obey
you, as our commander. But our brothers must be released and pardon
extended to all. If you return not in one half-hour with their pardon,
we storm the palace and slay every man therein. We swear it!”
“We swear it!” echoed all.
“Do as you say!” answered the Prince. “But I will return. Fear not for
me! One higher than I goes with me. Remain here and let the men not
move from their places.”
He departed at once to the palace-gate, and, to the guards peering
forth from loopholes at its sides he commanded: “Open! I go to the
King, bearing peace!”
The door was swung back to admit him. The guards had expected only
death at the hands of the savage men who stood around the palace in
silent, menacing attitude, and peace they greatly desired. The Prince
was conducted to the roof, where he found Prexaspes and the King. The
latter had seated himself at a small table and was drinking wine. He
turned to the Prince, who was startled at the sight of his haggard
face, his bloodshot eyes, and trembling hands--trembling, not in fear,
but from nervousness and debauchery. The King’s voice was full of
bitterness and hate, as he said: “Prince of Iran, I bid you welcome!
Your eyes are doubtless glad to behold your King at the mercy of yonder
rabble! What come you for? My crown?”
The Prince saluted the King gravely and looked down upon him with
ill-concealed disgust and pity. He said in cold, measured tones: “King
of the World, the day has come when even I am unable to restrain the
soldiers of Iran. Those men and their fathers made your father King of
Kings, King of the World, the Great King. They have added Egypt to your
empire. How have you rewarded them? Think you that without these Aryans
and their officers whom you have imprisoned, you could sit here in
safety one day? Not so! These Egyptians, these Syrians and Babylonians,
serve you not because they love you, but because they fear our
soldiers. Are you mad? Why have you given yourself over to murder and
debauchery? Why have you forsaken your God and allied yourself with the
vile Magi? I speak plainly but loyally. I am oath-bound to support you,
but I swear that unless you now be advised by me, I will do nothing to
save you from these men, who thirst to avenge the blood of Bardya, of
Artistone, and of these others you have slain without just cause!”
The King’s face grew purple with rage. He sprang to his feet and
half-drew his sword. But his eyes, looking into the eyes of the Prince,
saw in them a fierce, savage light and a compelling gaze that drove him
back to his seat. He dared not lift his hand against this man. A chill
of abject fear ran through his body; and he saw, as if by revelation,
a hideous chasm opening before him. Into that chasm of present and
eternal destruction he had been about to leap. He drew back and
shudderingly covered his face with his hands. His nerves were unstrung
by debauchery and by his fearful crimes. He had come to a place where,
in the face of death, he realized how evil his life had been. It was
true, as he now acknowledged to himself, that the position he held was
due to the men he had slighted, insulted, imprisoned, or murdered.
He was silent a moment, and as he sank back upon his chair he weakly
passed a hand across his eyes and said: “What do you advise? Your words
are true! I have been mad, but now I am restored to reason and I see
clearly.”
The Prince was surprised. He had not expected such sudden change. He
thought rapidly, not only for the present safety of the King, but for
the good of the Aryan race. A friendly, cordial note sounded in his
voice, as he answered: “Be advised by me, O King! Put away from you
the Magi. Put aside these Medean favorites. Surround yourself with
men of your own race and fill the high offices of the empire with its
nobility. Renounce the witchcraft of the fire-worshipers and proclaim
to the world the rule of Ahura-Mazda. Pardon the men in rebellion
and release all prisoners. Bestow compensation upon the widows and
relatives of those you have slain. Then will the people of Iran
support you and yours on the throne forever. Then will your reign
become truly great and glorious!”
The King remained silent a long time after the Prince ceased speaking.
A good impulse stirred within his heart. Life had been without
happiness to him since that fatal night when he had ordered Bardya
slain. Hate, envy, and malice towards the best men of his own race
had filled his heart. Remorse over his brother’s fate had been with
him, but it was as nothing to the remorse and grief gnawing his soul
over the death of Artistone, the gentle sister and wife whom he really
loved. Could he ever atone? He would try.
“Let it be done as you say,” he commanded, rising unsteadily and
shaking himself as if he would shake off a horrible dream. “Prexaspes,
you shall write decrees to fulfill all that our beloved Prince advises.
So be it! I turn back into the old ways of my fathers. I will dismiss
the Magi. I will fill all chief offices with Persians. I will dismiss
my new body-guard of Medes, and you, Prince, shall furnish the new
Imperial Guard and command it. Write a decree, Prexaspes, making this
Prince the chief man in my empire after the King. Evermore will I be
guided by his advice. The Magi must go down and back to their haunts in
the hills. The temples of Ahura-Mazda shall open; and I will offer a
thousand sacrifices to atone for my sins. Order the prisoners released.
Write an address to be read to the army, telling of my new resolve. I
will go down to the soldiers and tell them this myself!”
“Not so, O King!” said the Prince. “Let me deal with these men. Let
your decrees be prepared and signed at once. I will go down, release
the imprisoned officers and return to the army with them. This, O King,
may be a great day for good to the Aryan race!”
“Let every order given by the Prince of Iran be obeyed,” said the King
to Prexaspes.
The latter bowed low, and, followed by the Prince, departed immediately
to release the imprisoned officers, and in a few moments these went
forth to join the rejoicing troops. The palace gates were thrown
open, its defenders marched out and departed to a distant garrison,
and a new guard of Persians was placed in charge. The Prince of Iran,
having secured the decrees and published them, assumed charge of the
King’s affairs. Thirty days of mourning for Artistone were observed.
Compensation for the death of those slain by the King’s orders and
banishment of the Magi from affairs of state followed.
King Cambyses determined to return to Medea in order to complete the
work of restoring to power the Persian faction. Aryandes, a noble
Persian, was appointed satrap of Egypt and the bulk of the army was
left with him. The King, with a guard of ten thousand Persians and an
army of fifty thousand mixed troops, escorting a vast train loaded with
the wealth of Egypt, marched by easy stages out of the latter country,
through Canaan, along the shore of the Great Sea, to a point near Mount
Carmel, where he turned towards Damascus. The curses of Egypt went with
him. Her priests, under the milder rule of the sane Aryandes, then
returned to her deserted temples. But so broken were the Egyptians and
so strong was the Persian hold that no rebellion occurred. The Egyptian
people, having learned that while the Persian King might be harsh yet
his rule in the main was just, did no more than dream of revolution;
and for a century Egypt slept peacefully beneath the paw of the Persian
lion.