THE EARLESS KING
King Hystaspis, ruler of Iran under the shadow of the King of Kings,
walked leisurely through the park surrounding his palace at Persepolis
and meditated upon the doctrines of Zoroaster. Student and mystic,
loving rather the peace and quiet of his home than the martial camp or
the ruler’s throne, he found his greatest enjoyment in his beautiful
park where he might be alone. Quiet walks, dreamy hours by running
streams beneath shady trees, communion with the learned and wise, and
meditation on the mysteries of life and of nature occupied his leisure
moments. Delightful indeed were the October days. Brown and golden were
the leaves where deciduous trees made ready to cast their burdens. The
evergreen of pine and fir interspersed the more brilliant colors. The
sky was hazy and the sunbeams, softened by shimmering mists, had lost
their great heat and vivid glare.
The King was at ease. No armor burdened him. A round felt cap with a
purple band sat lightly on his massive head. His long gray hair fell
in masses to the collar of his Medean cloak. His white beard touched
the belt at his waist. The purple cloak, reaching from shoulder to
knee, partially covered in its graceful folds the dark tunic of his
under-dress. His feet were shod in boots of soft leather. In his hand
was a heavy cane, with which as he walked he flicked pebbles from his
path. A large shepherd dog walked at his side. Master and dog had
enjoyed the park alone for a long time. But there came an interruption.
The dog suddenly bounded away through the trees towards the palace,
whose massive portico was partially visible through the foliage. The
King stopped to observe the cause of his follower’s movements and saw
a woman coming rapidly towards him, at sight of whom his countenance
shone with pleasure. It was the Princess Athura. She held in her hand a
roll of papyrus. Following her at respectful distance was a man in the
uniform of a King’s messenger, whose dusty habit and halting steps told
of a long ride and weariness.
“My brother has written me!” cried the Princess, as she drew near.
“See! I have here a letter from him, sealed with his own private
signet!”
“Which brother mean you?” inquired the King, with surprise.
“Bardya!”
“Is it so? What says he?”
The old man’s brow was clouded as he spoke. Not yet had he declared for
the new King Bardya, though he did not suspect as yet the imposture
by which the Magi hoped to retain power. He had called the nobles of
Persia to a council on this matter, and the meeting would be held
shortly. He had loved Bardya almost as a son and knew that the people
hated Cambyses. But Bardya had not begun his reign by calling back the
Persian nobles to the chief offices, nor had he banished the Magi--much
to the chagrin and sorrow of the King of Iran. He listened attentively
as Athura read:
“_My beloved sister, Athura, Light of the World and Queen of the
Aryans_:
“Now that I have come forth from my place of safety in the royal
mountain, Demavend, and taken upon me the crown of King of Kings,
my heart goes out to you. Do you not remember how we used to talk of
ruling this great empire of Cyrus together? My brother, Cambyses,
would have killed me and you, could he have done so. The good priests
of Mithra saved me and hid me away until the time was ripe to come
forth. Of this I will tell you more when I see you.
“I have heard that you are with the royal Hystaspis at his palace in
Persepolis. May peace be with him! I have sent him greetings by a
suitable embassy, confirming him in all his titles and requesting him
to acknowledge my rule. For Cambyses is dead. The army near Damascus
has revolted from him and slain him. I know how the royal Hystaspis
loves you. Persuade him, therefore, to assist me in my great task and
he shall be the second man in the empire.
“As for yourself, come to me. I need you here at Hamadan to advise
me. You were ever the wiser and you shall be joint ruler with me in
fact if not in name. I am sending an escort to meet you at Susa. To
that point, royal Hystapsis will give you suitable escort.
“Come to me. It is a command.
“BARDYA, King of Kings.”
She paused and looked inquiringly into the King’s eyes. The latter took
from her hand the scroll and read it himself in silence. Then he said:
“If it be true that Cambyses is dead, my course is clear. Yet am I not
satisfied. It seems almost inconceivable that Bardya has come back from
the dead. Yet it must be so.”
He beckoned to the messenger, who had discreetly halted a score of
paces distant, and asked, “Are you in the regular messenger service?”
The man bowed low till his hands touched the earth, and then, standing
in humble attitude, answered, “Yes, Master.”
“How many years?”
“Ten years, Master.”
“Then you have often seen Cyrus, the Great King? Also Cambyses and
Bardya?”
“Truly have I seen them, my lord, many times. I know them well.”
“Have you seen King Bardya since he returned to Hamadan?”
“Twice, but only at the public audiences. He rides not forth as
formerly, because, it is said, he fears assassins.”
“How looks he?”
“The lights were dim when I saw him, but I recognized him. He has lost
flesh, as if he had been ill. He used to take part in the martial
sports, but does not do so now.”
“What say the people of him?”
“They praise him for the most part. He has remitted the taxes, pardoned
all political offenders, and proclaimed a year of peace and jubilee.
Only the old priests grumble, who are displeased because he favors the
Magi.”
“You may return to the palace, where you will be entertained.”
Saluting again, the messenger gladly hastened away to the ample
refreshments he knew awaited him at the palace. The King returned
the scroll to Athura and sighed. After a moment’s thought, he said:
“Daughter, I like not the situation. If Cambyses be dead, as here
reported, then Bardya is rightfully King. But he has abandoned the
ancient religion of his fathers very suddenly for the accursed
superstition of those Scythian interlopers, the Magi. But his decree
concerning the Magi shall not run in Iran! I have heard that some of
the temples of our religion in Medea have been closed and that the
altars of the fire-worshipers on the hilltops have multiplied. So
changed is he in all this that I am astounded. He commands you to come
to him. It is for you to decide. It may be that you can turn him back
from his evil way. But I fear to let you go.”
“I am greatly troubled,” said Athura. “Bardya never was inclined to
give much thought to religion. He loves sports, the army, and the hunt.
His heart is easily touched. In gratitude to those who saved his life,
he has granted them great privileges. All the more should I, on whom
he ever leaned for advice, be near him, to lead him back if possible
to the old paths. I have nothing to fear from him. It is my duty to
go. But I desire your advice. You have been a father to me, and the
gracious Queen, a mother!”
The King smiled. “If my son returns from Egypt,” he said, “I shall
deem myself happy to acknowledge you my daughter in fact. If Cambyses
is dead, there need be no more concealment or fear. I will send trusty
messengers to Hamadan, Babylon, and Susa and even to Egypt to learn the
truth. My son would certainly have sent messengers to me with news of
the King’s death if he were dead.”
“May Ahura-Mazda hasten the day of his return! How long it has been
since I last saw him!”
“If you go to Hamadan, what will be the result? Will Bardya act as did
Cambyses?”
“No, a thousand times! Bardya will consent to my marriage with your son
at once.”
“It may be. And yet, knowing how my son loves the truth and our ancient
faith, I fear that Bardya’s new faith will cause a rupture of their
friendship. Darius is an enemy of liars. Unlike me, this son of mine
loves war rather than peace and has little patience with those who
differ from him in opinion. Perhaps his love for you will cause him to
overlook the errors of your brother. As to this letter, if you go, my
blessing shall go with you; and, should you call to me for aid from
the ends of the earth, I will march to you at the head of a hundred
thousand Persians. If you stay here, all Iran will be a bulwark around
you and my home shall be yours.”
Tears filled the eyes of Athura. Kneeling, she placed the right hand of
the King on her head, saying: “I will take your blessing, my father,
and go. Well do I know the love of our people. Sometimes in the
bitterness of my condition I have thought of calling them to arms and
throwing down from his throne the dread Cambyses. Had it not been for
that oath you and your son swore to the Great King, I would have done
so!”
Hystaspis bent over and kissed her forehead.
“May Ahura-Mazda, giver of all life, bless you!” he said solemnly. “May
Sraosha, his powerful messenger, ever be at your right hand to convey
to Him your slightest petition! May happiness in the love of a husband
be yours and peace in your own home! Come, let us go to the palace and
break the sad news of your going to the mother there.”
They went to the palace side by side and were met on the portico by
the stately lady who ruled the King’s heart even as he kept sway over
millions of proud subjects.
She sought to persuade Athura not to go to Hamadan, until more certain
information of the conditions there could be had; but Athura was firm
in her determination to obey the call of her brother. Therefore next
day a company of cavalry escorting the Princess marched towards Susa.
King Hystaspis rode with her a day’s journey.
On the fifth day after the departure of the Princess, three of the
great Persian nobles, Otanes, Hydarnes, and Vomisces, resplendent in
military dress and in armor adorned with bright metal and precious
stones, each attended by a score of stout guards, rode over the
stone bridge across the Pulwar and demanded audience of the King. A
chamberlain conducted them into the audience hall, where the benevolent
King sat on his throne in state. They saluted him, and Otanes said: “O
King, live forever! We, your counselors, come to advise with you on
grave affairs of state.”
“I am glad to behold you,” responded the King. “You are welcome. Speak
on!”
Otanes drew a letter from the folds of his cloak.
“Here have I a letter from my daughter, Phædima,” he said. “She was the
wife of the Great King, Cambyses, and she was taken as wife by that
one who calls himself Bardya, who, having deposed Cambyses, assumed to
marry all his wives. But listen! Was ever such fraud practiced upon a
people? This came secretly by a messenger, a slave who owed his life to
my daughter. Let me read.
“‘_To Otanes, my beloved father_:
“‘In much shame and agitation do I write this and will endeavor to
dispatch it to you by Hyrax, my faithful slave.
“‘This Bardya is an impostor. He is not Bardya the King’s brother.
When Patatheites, the regent, announced that Bardya, son of Cyrus,
had returned from Mount Demavend where he had been hiding, and had
declared himself King of Kings, there was great rejoicing in Hamadan,
and all the people and the army gladly declared for him. The new King
made a decree divorcing us from Cambyses and making all of us his
wives. What could we do? It was the King’s word.
“‘But, when this man came to visit me, I saw that he could not be the
true Bardya, though he resembles him much. He wore a turban after
the manner of the Arabs but in such way that it covered his hair and
ears. This day did I discover that he has no ears. While he slept,
overcome by wine, his turban was disarranged. Then I remembered that
I saw this man led away from the presence of Cyrus, who had sentenced
him to have his ears cut off for some offense. His name was Gaumata
and he was a wizard, a priest of the Magi. This is the man! I had
no dagger or I would have slain him. We are prisoners in the palace
and are not permitted to go even to the park walls. Haste, then, my
father, to rescue your daughter from this foul creature! I have heard
it proclaimed that Cambyses is dead, slain by his own hand in Syria.
Of the truth of this I know not. My hands reach out to you!
“‘Farewell!
“‘PHÆDIMA.’”
The King was amazed. He arose from his throne as the reading proceeded
and nervously pulled at his beard. When it was done, he smote together
his hands in great agitation.
“Alas!” he cried. “How unfortunate that your message did not come five
days ago! Then I would have kept the royal Athura here or marched with
her to Hamadan at the head of an army. Only five days ago in obedience
to a letter sent her by this false slave, calling himself Bardya, she
departed, and even now she may be at Susa in his power! May curses rest
on him! I perceive his scheme! With the last of the children of Cyrus
in his power, he thinks to be safe. But not so! No time is to be lost!
Let us take immediate action!”
He pulled a cord near at hand, and a gong sounded in an adjacent room.
Instantly a door at the right of the throne swung open, admitting an
officer of the Guard. To him the King said: “Captain Arios, take five
hundred men, the best of the army in Persepolis, with the strongest
horses, and ride to Susa! Ride day and night! Seize horses and supplies
as you go! Overtake Captain Mardux and bring back the Princess Athura,
if you can. Ride even to Hamadan if you do not find her at Susa. Send
messengers in advance to overtake and turn her back. Spare not horses
or men! Delay not!”
The captain, though filled with wonder at this sudden order, did not
pause to ask reasons for it, but bowed low before his lord and left the
room. A moment later the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the paved court
indicated that he had departed.
The King turned to his counselors and said: “It is my will that the
reserves be called to arms and that all the regular troops be gathered
at Persepolis. We shall march without delay upon the usurper. Secrecy
and swiftness must be observed. Let us seize the wretch before he may
gather an army to oppose us. What say you?”
“That is my word!” answered Otanes.
“And mine!” added Hydarnes.
“And mine!” said Vomisces.
“Then let it be done! Let every able-bodied man in your several
districts be called. I will send orders to the Governor of Bactra to
call out the reserves and to march to Rhages with the Bactrian troops.
He will bring two hundred thousand men. We should march from Persepolis
with no less. I wish that my son were here! We shall need him.”
After further consultation as to details, the nobles departed. Scores
of messengers, riding at breakneck speed, penetrated to distant hamlets
and summoned every man of the military class to Persepolis. Stores of
weapons and provisions were quickly gathered. The great plain near
Persepolis quickly became populous with men and impedimenta. All Iran
was stirred with the excitement of coming war; but none knew why they
were called, save that it was on the King’s business.
On the tenth day two hundred thousand men stood in line on the plain
near the Araxes for review, and their gray-bearded King rode along
their serried ranks and saw that they were ready and eager to march.
They saw that the face of the monarch was serious and filled with
anxiety, and they guessed that they were about to engage in a civil
war. The King did not enlighten them. A messenger had come from Captain
Arios at Susa, stating that he had found Captain Mardux and his men who
had escorted Athura to Susa, but that the Princess had gone forward
towards Hamadan the day before his arrival. The King was disappointed
and anxious. Having ordered that the march begin next day, he returned
to his palace.
At sundown of that same day, Gobryas and half a dozen weary troopers
arrived in the camp and after hasty greetings to the generals in
command went direct to the King. The King was on his portico, reclining
on a couch so placed that he could watch the glories of the setting
sun, while near him sat the Queen engaged upon some needlework.
Recognizing Gobryas in spite of his unshaven and dusty condition,
Hystaspis rose with an exclamation of surprise and went down the steps
to meet and embrace him.
“It rejoices my soul to see you, noble Gobryas!” he said. “Whence come
you? What of my son?”
“Gracious King, I have come from Syria by way of Babylon and the lower
roads,” answered Gobryas. “Your son was well when I, obedient to his
commands, left him to come hither.”
“Praise be to Ahura-Mazda! What of the King?”
“Cambyses is dead. There is no king other than you, O King Hystaspis! I
greet you King of Kings and Lord of Lords!”
He bent his knee and kissed the King’s hand. But Hystaspis raised him
up, saying: “Not yet, my son! The nobles of all Iran must be consulted.
We had heard rumors of the death of Cambyses, but were not sure.”
“Cambyses is dead. I saw him stab himself before all the army when
messengers came into camp proclaiming Bardya King. Yea, truly he is
dead and the world is better for it! As for this traitor at Hamadan, I
have come direct from your son to announce that he is not Bardya but a
false usurper. I perceive you have already learned his true character
and are ready to march against him. I have letters from the Prince.
Even now he is drawing near to Babylon with his ten thousand men of the
Guard.”
He produced a packet from his belt and gave it to the King.
“Come,” said the King, leading him up on the portico where the Queen
waited. “You shall be refreshed at my own table and shall stay in our
palace this night. I have much to ask concerning our son and of the
war in Egypt and of the death of the King.”
Gobyras bent low before the Queen, kissed her hands extended to him in
cordial welcome, and said: “Queen of the World, I give you love and
greetings from the Prince. Daily has he spoken of you. I bear a letter
for you. I have another for the Princess Athura. But, alas! Otanes has
explained to me how she has gone into the power of that Gaumata!”
The Queen took from Gobyras the packet he handed to her, and then,
placing her hands on his shoulders, drew him down and kissed both
his cheeks, saying: “My son’s blood-brother is my son! Welcome home!
How weary you are! You shall rest in the Prince’s own apartment this
night.”