Before the sun had reached his mid-day height, the news of what had
happened and of what was still to happen had filled all Babylon. The
streets swarmed with people, waiting impatiently to see the strange
spectacle which the punishment of one of the king's wives, who had
proved false and faithless, promised to afford. The whip-bearers were
forced to use all their authority to keep this gaping crowd in order.
Later on in the day the news that Bartja and his friends were soon to be
executed arrived among the crowd; they were under the influence of the
palm-wine, which was liberally distributed on the king's birthday and
the following days, and could not control their excited feelings; but
these now took quite another form.
Bands of drunken men paraded the streets, crying: "Bartja, the good son
of Cyrus, is to be executed!" The women heard these words in their quiet
apartments, eluded their keepers, forgot their veils, and rushing forth
into the streets, followed the excited and indignant men with cries and
yells. Their pleasure in the thought of seeing a more fortunate sister
humbled, vanished at the painful news that their beloved prince was
condemned to death. Men, women and children raged, stormed and cursed,
exciting one another to louder and louder bursts of indignation. The
workshops were emptied, the merchants closed their warehouses, and the
school-boys and servants, who had a week's holiday on occasion of the
king's birthday, used their freedom to scream louder than any one else,
and often to groan and yell without in the least knowing why.
At last the tumult was so great that the whip-bearers were insufficient
to cope with it, and a detachment of the body-guard was sent to patrol
the streets. At the sight of their shining armor and long lances, the
crowd retired into the side streets, only, however, to reassemble in
fresh numbers when the troops were out of sight.
At the gate, called the Bel gate, which led to the great western
high-road, the throng was thicker than at any other point, for it was
said that through this gate, the one by which she had entered Babylon,
the Egyptian Princess was to be led out of the city in shame and
disgrace. For this reason a larger number of whipbearers were stationed
here, in order to make way for travellers entering the city. Very
few people indeed left the city at all on this day, for curiosity was
stronger than either business or pleasure; those, on the other hand,
who arrived from the country, took up their stations near the gate on
hearing what had drawn the crowd thither.
It was nearly mid-day, and only wanted a few hours to the time fixed for
Nitetis' disgrace, when a caravan approached the gate with great speed.
The first carriage was a so-called harmamaxa, drawn by four horses
decked out with bells and tassels; a two-wheeled cart followed, and last
in the train was a baggage-wagon drawn by mules. A fine, handsome man of
about fifty, dressed as a Persian courtier, and another, much older, in
long white robes, occupied the first carriage. The cart was filled by a
number of slaves in simple blouses, and broad-brimmed felt hats,
wearing the hair cut close to the head. An old man, dressed as a Persian
servant, rode by the side of the cart. The driver of the first carriage
had great difficulty in making way for his gaily-ornamented horses
through the crowd; he was obliged to come to a halt before the gate and
call some whip-bearers to his assistance. "Make way for us!" he cried to
the captain of the police who came up with some of his men; "the royal
post has no time to lose, and I am driving some one, who will make you
repent every minute's delay."
"Softly, my son," answered the official. "Don't you see that it's easier
to-day to get out of Babylon, than to come in? Whom are you driving?"
"A nobleman, with a passport from the king. Come, be quick and make way
for us."
"I don't know about that; your caravan does not look much like royalty."
"What have you to do with that? The pass.... "
"I must see it, before I let you into the city." These words were half
meant for the traveller, whom he was scrutinizing very suspiciously.
While the man in the Persian dress was feeling in his sleeve for the
passport, the whip-bearer turned to some comrades who had just come up,
and pointed out the scanty retinue of the travellers, saying: "Did
you ever see such a queer cavalcade? There's something odd about these
strangers, as sure as my name's Giv. Why, the lowest of the king's
carpet-bearers travels with four times as many people, and yet this man
has a royal pass and is dressed like one of those who sit at the royal
table."
At this moment the suspected traveller handed him a little silken roll
scented with musk, sealed with the royal seal, and containing the king's
own handwriting.
The whip-bearer took it and examined the seal. "It is all in order," he
murmured, and then began to study the characters. But no sooner had
he deciphered the first letters than he looked even more sharply than
before at the traveller, and seized the horses' bridles, crying out:
"Here, men, form a guard round the carriage! this is an impostor."
When he had convinced himself that escape was impossible, he went up to
the stranger again and said: "You are using a pass which does not belong
to you. Gyges, the son of Croesus, the man you give yourself out for,
is in prison and is to be executed to-day. You are not in the least like
him, and you will have reason to repent leaving tried to pass for him.
Get out of your carriage and follow me."
The traveller, however, instead of obeying, began to speak in broken
Persian, and begged the officer rather to take a seat by him in the
carriage, for that he had very important news to communicate. The man
hesitated a moment; but on seeing a fresh band of whip-bearers come up,
he nodded to them to stand before the impatient, chafing horses, and got
into the carriage.
The stranger looked at him with a smile and said: "Now, do I look like
an impostor?"
"No; your language proves that you are not a Persian, but yet you look
like a nobleman."
"I am a Greek, and have come hither to render Cambyses an important
service. Gyges is my friend, and lent me his passport when he was in
Egypt, in case I should ever come to Persia. I am prepared to vindicate
my conduct before the king, and have no reason for fear. On the
contrary, the news I bring gives me reason to expect much from his
favor. Let me be taken to Croesus, if this is your duty; he will be
surety for me, and will send back your men, of whom you seem to stand in
great need to-day. Distribute these gold pieces among them, and tell
me without further delay what my poor friend Gyges has done to deserve
death, and what is the reason of all this crowd and confusion."
The stranger said this in bad Persian, but there lay so much dignity and
confidence in his tone, and his gifts were on such a large scale, that
the cringing and creeping servant of despotism felt sure he must be
sitting opposite to a prince, crossed his arms reverentially, and,
excusing himself from his many pressing affairs, began to relate
rapidly. He had been on duty in the great hall during the examination
of the prisoners the night before, and could therefore tell all that had
happened with tolerable accuracy. The Greek followed his tale eagerly,
with many an incredulous shake of his handsome head, however, when the
daughter of Amasis and the son of Cyrus were spoken of as having
been disloyal and false, that sentence of death had been pronounced,
especially on Croesus, distressed him visibly, but the sadness soon
vanished from his quickly-changing features, and gave place to thought;
this in its turn was quickly followed by a joyful look, which could
only betoken that the thinker had arrived at a satisfactory result. His
dignified gravity vanished in a moment; he laughed aloud, struck his
forehead merrily, seized the hand of the astonished captain, and said:
"Should you be glad, if Bartja could be saved?"
"More than I can say."
"Very well, then I will vouch for it, that you shall receive at least
two talents, if you can procure me an interview with the king before the
first execution has taken place."
"How can you ask such a thing of me, a poor captain?..."
"Yes, you must, you must!"
"I cannot."
"I know well that it is very difficult, almost impossible, for a
stranger to obtain an audience of your king; but my errand brooks no
delay, for I can prove that Bartja and his friends are not guilty.
Do you hear? I can prove it. Do you think now, you can procure me
admittance?"
"How is it possible?"
"Don't ask, but act. Didn't you say Darius was one of the condemned?"
"Yes."
"I have heard, that his father is a man of very high rank."
"He is the first in the kingdom, after the sons of Cyrus."
"Then take me to him at once. He will welcome me when he hears I am able
to save his son."
"Stranger, you are a wonderful being. You speak with so much confidence
that..."
"That you feel you may believe me. Make haste then, and call some of
your men to make way for us, and escort us to the palace."
There is nothing, except a doubt, which runs more quickly from mind to
mind, than a hope that some cherished wish may be fulfilled, especially
when this hope has been suggested to us by some one we can trust.
The officer believed this strange traveller, jumped out of the carriage,
flourishing his scourge and calling to his men: "This nobleman has come
on purpose to prove Bartja's innocence, and must be taken to the king at
once. Follow me, my friends, and make way for him!"
Just at that moment a troop of the guards appeared in sight. The captain
of the whip-bearers went up to their commander, and, seconded by the
shouts of the crowd, begged him to escort the stranger to the palace.
During this colloquy the traveller had mounted his servant's horse, and
now followed in the wake of the Persians.
The good news flew like wind through the huge city. As the riders
proceeded, the crowd fell back more willingly, and loader and fuller
grew the shouts of joy until at last their march was like a triumphal
procession.
In a few minutes they drew up before the palace; but before the brazen
gates had opened to admit them, another train came slowly into sight. At
the head rode a grey-headed old man; his robes were brown, and rent, in
token of mourning, the mane and tail of his horse had been shorn off and
the creature colored blue.--It was Hystaspes, coming to entreat mercy
for his son.
The whip-bearer, delighted at this sight, threw himself down before
the old man with a cry of joy, and with crossed arms told him what
confidence the traveller had inspired him with.
Hystaspes beckoned to the stranger; he rode up, bowed gracefully and
courteously to the old man, without dismounting, and confirmed the words
of the whip bearer. Hystaspes seemed to feel fresh confidence too after
hearing the stranger, for he begged him to follow him into the palace
and to wait outside the door of the royal apartment, while he himself,
conducted by the head chamberlain, went in to the king.
When his old kinsman entered, Cambyses was lying on his purple couch,
pale as death. A cup-bearer was kneeling on the ground at his feet,
trying to collect the broken fragments of a costly Egyptian drinking-cup
which the king had thrown down impatiently because its contents had not
pleased his taste. At some distance stood a circle of court-officials,
in whose faces it was easy to read that they were afraid of their
ruler's wrath, and preferred keeping as far from him as possible. The
dazzling light and oppressive heat of a Babylonian May day came in
through the open windows, and not a sound was to be heard in the great
room, except the whining of a large dog of the Epirote breed, which had
just received a tremendous kick from Cambyses for venturing to fawn on
his master, and was the only being that ventured to disturb the solemn
stillness. Just before Hystaspes was led in by the chamberlain, Cambyses
had sprung up from his couch. This idle repose had become unendurable,
he felt suffocated with pain and anger. The dog's howl suggested a new
idea to his poor tortured brain, thirsting for forgetfulness.
"We will go out hunting!" he shouted to the poor startled courtiers. The
master of the hounds, the equerries, and huntsmen hastened to obey his
orders. He called after them, "I shall ride the unbroken horse Reksch;
get the falcons ready, let all the dogs out and order every one to come,
who can throw a spear. We'll clear the preserves!"
He then threw himself down on his divan again, as if these words had
quite exhausted his powerful frame, and did not see that Hystaspes
had entered, for his sullen gaze was fixed on the motes playing in the
sunbeams that glanced through the window.
Hystaspes did not dare to address him; but he stationed himself in the
window so as to break the stream of motes and thus draw attention to
himself.
At first Cambyses looked angrily at him and his rent garments, and then
asked with a bitter smile; "What do you want?"
"Victory to the king! Your poor servant and uncle has come to entreat
his ruler's mercy."
"Then rise and go! You know that I have no mercy for perjurers and false
swearers. 'Tis better to have a dead son than a dishonorable one."
"But if Bartja should not be guilty, and Darius..."
"You dare to question the justice of my sentence?"
"That be far from me. Whatever the king does is good, and cannot be
gainsaid; but still..."
"Be silent! I will not hear the subject mentioned again. You are to be
pitied as a father; but have these last few hours brought me any joy?
Old man, I grieve for you, but I have as little power to rescind his
punishment as you to recall his crime."
"But if Bartja really should not be guilty--if the gods..."
"Do you think the gods will come to the help of perjurers and
deceivers?"
"No, my King; but a fresh witness has appeared."
"A fresh witness? Verily, I would gladly give half my kingdom, to be
convinced of the innocence of men so nearly related to me."
"Victory to my lord, the eye of the realm! A Greek is waiting outside,
who seems, to judge by his figure and bearing, one of the noblest of his
race."
The king laughed bitterly: "A Greek! Ah, ha! perhaps some relation to
Bartja's faithful fair one! What can this stranger know of my family
affairs? I know these beggarly Ionians well. They are impudent enough to
meddle in everything, and think they can cheat us with their sly tricks.
How much have you had to pay for this new witness, uncle? A Greek is
as ready with a lie as a Magian with his spells, and I know they'll do
anything for gold. I'm really curious to see your witness. Call him in.
But if he wants to deceive me, he had better remember that where the
head of a son of Cyrus is about to fall, a Greek head has but very
little chance." And the king's eyes flashed with anger as he said these
words. Hystaspes, however, sent for the Greek.
Before he entered, the chamberlains fastened the usual cloth before his
mouth, and commanded him to cast himself on the ground before the king.
The Greek's bearing, as he approached, under the king's penetrating
glance, was calm and noble; he fell on his face, and, according to the
Persian custom, kissed the ground.
His agreeable and handsome appearance, and the calm and modest manner in
which he bore the king's gaze, seemed to make a favorable impression on
the latter; he did not allow him to remain long on the earth, and asked
him in a by no means unfriendly tone: "Who are you?"
"I am a Greek nobleman. My name is Phanes, and Athens is my home. I have
served ten years as commander of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, and not
ingloriously."
"Are you the man, to whose clever generalship the Egyptians were
indebted for their victories in Cyprus?"
"I am."
"What has brought you to Persia?"
"The glory of your name, Cambyses, and the wish to devote my arms and
experience to your service."
"Nothing else? Be sincere, and remember that one single lie may cost
your life. We Persians have different ideas of truth from the Greeks."
"Lying is hateful to me too, if only, because, as a distortion and
corruption of what is noblest, it seems unsightly in my eyes."
"Then speak."
"There was certainly a third reason for my coming hither, which I should
like to tell you later. It has reference to matters of the greatest
importance, which it will require a longer time to discuss; but
to-day--"
"Just to-day I should like to hear something new. Accompany me to the
chase. You come exactly at the right time, for I never had more need of
diversion than now."
"I will accompany you with pleasure, if..."
"No conditions to the king! Have you had much practice in hunting?"
"In the Libyan desert I have killed many a lion."
"Then come, follow me."
In the thought of the chase the king seemed to have thrown off all his
weakness and roused himself to action; he was just leaving the hall,
when Hystaspes once more threw himself at his feet, crying with
up-raised hands: "Is my son--is your brother, to die innocent? By the
soul of your father, who used to call me his truest friend, I conjure
you to listen to this noble stranger."
Cambyses stood still. The frown gathered on his brow again, his voice
sounded like a menace and his eyes flashed as he raised his hand and
said to the Greek: "Tell me what you know; but remember that in every
untrue word, you utter your own sentence of death."
Phanes heard this threat with the greatest calmness, and answered,
bowing gracefully as he spoke: "From the sun and from my lord the king,
nothing can be hid. What power has a poor mortal to conceal the truth
from one so mighty? The noble Hystaspes has said, that I am able to
prove your brother innocent. I will only say, that I wish and hope I may
succeed in accomplishing anything so great and beautiful. The gods have
at least allowed me to discover a trace which seems calculated to throw
light on the events of yesterday; but you yourself must decide whether
my hopes have been presumptuous and my suspicions too easily aroused.
Remember, however, that throughout, my wish to serve you has been
sincere, and that if I have been deceived, my error is pardonable; that
nothing is perfectly certain in this world, and every man believes that
to be infallible which seems to him the most probable."
"You speak well, and remind me of... curse her! there, speak and have
done with it! I hear the dogs already in the court."
"I was still in Egypt when your embassy came to fetch Nitetis. At the
house of Rhodopis, my delightful, clever and celebrated countrywoman,
I made the acquaintance of Croesus and his son; I only saw your brother
and his friends once or twice, casually; still I remembered the young
prince's handsome face so well, that some time later, when I was in
the workshop of the great sculptor Theodorus at Samos, I recognized his
features at once."
"Did you meet him at Samos?"
"No, but his features had made such a deep and faithful impression on
Theodorus' memory, that he used them to beautify the head of an Apollo,
which the Achaemenidae had ordered for the new temple of Delphi."
"Your tale begins, at least, incredibly enough. How is it possible to
copy features so exactly, when you have not got them before you?"
"I can only answer that Theodorus has really completed this
master-piece, and if you wish for a proof of his skill would gladly send
you a second likeness of..."
"I have no desire for it. Go on with your story."
"On my journey hither, which, thanks to your father's excellent
arrangements, I performed in an incredibly short time, changing horses
every sixteen or seventeen miles..."
"Who allowed you, a foreigner, to use the posthorses?"
"The pass drawn out for the son of Croesus, which came by chance into
my hands, when once, in order to save my life, he forced me to change
clothes with him."
"A Lydian can outwit a fox, and a Syrian a Lydian, but an Ionian is a
match for both," muttered the king, smiling for the first time; "Croesus
told me this story--poor Croesus!" and then the old gloomy expression
came over his face and he passed his hand across his forehead, as if
trying to smooth the lines of care away. The Athenian went on: "I met
with no hindrances on my journey till this morning at the first hour
after midnight, when I was detained by a strange occurrence."
The king began to listen more attentively, and reminded the Athenian,
who spoke Persian with difficulty, that there was no time to lose.
"We had reached the last station but one," continued he, "and hoped to
be in Babylon by sunrise. I was thinking over my past stirring life, and
was so haunted by the remembrance of evil deeds unrevenged that I
could not sleep; the old Egyptian at my side, however, slept and dreamt
peacefully enough, lulled by the monotonous tones of the harness bells,
the sound of the horses' hoofs and the murmur of the Euphrates. It was
a wonderfully still, beautiful night; the moon and stars were so
brilliant, that our road and the landscape were lighted up almost
with the brightness of day. For the last hour we had not seen a
single vehicle, foot-passenger, or horseman; we had heard that all
the neighboring population had assembled in Babylon to celebrate your
birthday, gaze with wonder at the splendor of your court, and enjoy your
liberality. At last the irregular beat of horses' hoofs, and the sound
of bells struck my ear, and a few minutes later I distinctly heard cries
of distress. My resolve was taken at once; I made my Persian servant
dismount, sprang into his saddle, told the driver of the cart in which
my slaves were sitting not to spare his mules, loosened my dagger and
sword in their scabbards, and spurred my horse towards the place from
whence the cries came. They grew louder and louder. I had not ridden a
minute, when I came on a fearful scene. Three wild-looking fellows had
just pulled a youth, dressed in the white robes of a Magian, from his
horse, stunned him with heavy blows, and, just as I reached them, were
on the point of throwing him into the Euphrates, which at that place
washes the roots of the palms and fig-trees bordering the high-road. I
uttered my Greek war-cry, which has made many an enemy tremble before
now, and rushed on the murderers. Such fellows are always cowards; the
moment they saw one of their accomplices mortally wounded, they fled. I
did not pursue them, but stooped down to examine the poor boy, who was
severely wounded. How can I describe my horror at seeing, as I believed,
your brother Bartja? Yes, they were the very same features that I had
seen, first at Naukratis and then in Theodorus' workshop, they were..."
"Marvellous!" interrupted Hystaspes.
"Perhaps a little too much so to be credible," added the king. "Take
care, Hellene! remember my arm reaches far. I shall have the truth of
your story put to the proof."
"I am accustomed," answered Phanes bowing low, "to follow the advice
of our wise philosopher Pythagoras, whose fame may perhaps have reached
your ears, and always, before speaking, to consider whether what I am
going to say may not cause me sorrow in the future."
"That sounds well; but, by Mithras, I knew some one who often spoke
of that great teacher, and yet in her deeds turned out to be a most
faithful disciple of Angramainjus. You know the traitress, whom we are
going to extirpate from the earth like a poisonous viper to-day."
"Will you forgive me," answered Phanes, seeing the anguish expressed in
the king's features, "if I quote another of the great master's maxims?"
"Speak."
"Blessings go as quickly as they come. Therefore bear thy lot patiently.
Murmur not, and remember that the gods never lay a heavier weight on any
man than he can bear. Hast thou a wounded heart? touch it as seldom
as thou wouldst a sore eye. There are only two remedies for
heart-sickness:--hope and patience."
Cambyses listened to this sentence, borrowed from the golden maxims
of Pythagoras, and smiled bitterly at the word "patience." Still the
Athenian's way of speaking pleased him, and he told him to go on with
his story.
Phanes made another deep obeisance, and continued: "We carried the
unconscious youth to my carriage, and brought him to the nearest
station. There he opened his eyes, looked anxiously at me, and asked
who I was and what had happened to him? The master of the station was
standing by, so I was obliged to give the name of Gyges in order not to
excite his suspicions by belying my pass, as it was only through this
that I could obtain fresh horses.
"This wounded young man seemed to know Gyges, for he shook his head
and murmured: 'You are not the man you give yourself out for.' Then he
closed his eyes again, and a violent attack of fever came on.
"We undressed, bled him and bound up his wounds. My Persian servant, who
had served as overlooker in Amasis' stables and had seen Bartja there,
assisted by the old Egyptian who accompanied me, was very helpful, and
asserted untiringly that the wounded man could be no other than your
brother. When we had cleansed the blood from his face, the master of the
station too swore that there could be no doubt of his being the younger
son of your great father Cyrus. Meanwhile my Egyptian companion had
fetched a potion from the travelling medicine-chest, without which an
Egyptian does not care to leave his native country.
[A similar travelling medicine-chest is to be seen in the Egyptian
Museum at Berlin. It is prettily and compendiously fitted up, and
must be very ancient, for the inscription on the chest, which
contained it stated that it was made in the 11th dynasty (end of the
third century B. C.) in the reign of King Mentuhotep.]
The drops worked wonders; in a few hours the fever was quieted, and at
sunrise the patient opened his eyes once more. We bowed down before him,
believing him to be your brother, and asked if he would like to be taken
to the palace in Babylon. This he refused vehemently, and asseverated
that he was not the man we took him for, but,..."
"Who can be so like Bartja? tell me quickly," interrupted the king, "I
am very curious to know this."
"He declared that he was the brother of your high-priest, that his name
was Gaumata, and that this would be proved by the pass which we should
find in the sleeve of his Magian's robe. The landlord found this
document and, being able to read, confirmed the statement of the sick
youth; he was, however, soon seized by a fresh attack of fever, and
began to speak incoherently."
"Could you understand him?"
"Yes, for his talk always ran on the same subject. The hanging-gardens
seemed to fill his thoughts. He must have just escaped some great
danger, and probably had had a lover's meeting there with a woman called
Mandane."
"Mandane, Mandane," said Cambyses in a low voice; "if I do not mistake,
that is the name of the highest attendant on Amasis' daughter."
These words did not escape the sharp ears of the Greek. He thought a
moment and then exclaimed with a smile; "Set the prisoners free, my
King; I will answer for it with my own head, that Bartja was not in the
hanging-gardens."
The king was surprised at this speech but not angry. The free,
unrestrained, graceful manner of this Athenian towards himself produced
the same impression, that a fresh sea-breeze makes when felt for the
first time. The nobles of his own court, even his nearest relations,
approached him bowing and cringing, but this Greek stood erect in his
presence; the Persians never ventured to address their ruler without a
thousand flowery and flattering phrases, but the Athenian was simple,
open and straightforward. Yet his words were accompanied by such a
charm of action and expression, that the king could understand them,
notwithstanding the defective Persian in which they were clothed, better
than the allegorical speeches of his own subjects. Nitetis and Phanes
were the only human beings, who had ever made him forget that he was a
king. With them he was a man speaking to his fellow-man, instead of a
despot speaking with creatures whose very existence was the plaything
of his own caprice. Such is the effect produced by real manly dignity,
superior culture and the consciousness of a right to freedom, on the
mind even of a tyrant. But there was something beside all this, that had
helped to win Cambyses' favor for the Athenian. This man's coming seemed
as if it might possibly give him back the treasure he had believed
was lost and more than lost. But how could the life of such a foreign
adventurer be accepted as surety for the sons of the highest Persians
in the realm? The proposal, however, did not make him angry. On the
contrary, he could not help smiling at the boldness of this Greek, who
in his eagerness had freed himself from the cloth which hung over his
mouth and beard, and exclaimed: "By Mithras, Greek, it really seems as
if you were to prove a messenger of good for us! I accept your offer.
If the prisoners, notwithstanding your supposition, should still prove
guilty you are bound to pass your whole life at my court and in my
service, but if, on the contrary, you are able to prove what I so
ardently long for, I will make you richer than any of your countrymen."
Phanes answered by a smile which seemed to decline this munificent
offer, and asked: "Is it permitted me to put a few questions to yourself
and to the officers of your court?"
"You are allowed to say and ask whatever you wish."
At this moment the master of the huntsmen, one of those who daily ate
at the king's table, entered, out of breath from his endeavors to hasten
the preparations, and announced that all was ready.
"They must wait," was the king's imperious answer. "I am not sure, that
we shall hunt at all to-day. Where is Bischen, the captain of police?"
Datis, the so-called "eye of the king," who held the office filled in
modern days by a minister of police, hurried from the room, returning in
a few minutes with the desired officer. These moments Phanes made use of
for putting various questions on important points to the nobles who were
present.
"What news can you bring of the prisoners?" asked the king, as the man
lay prostrate before him. "Victory to the king! They await death with
calmness, for it is sweet to die by thy will."
"Have you heard anything of their conversation?"
"Yes, my Ruler."
"Do they acknowledge their guilt, when speaking to each other?"
"Mithras alone knows the heart; but you, my prince, if you could hear
them speak, would believe in their innocence, even as I the humblest of
your servants."
The captain looked up timidly at the king, fearing lest these words
should have excited his anger; Cambyses, however, smiled kindly instead
of rebuking him. But a sudden thought darkened his brow again directly,
and in a low voice he asked: "When was Croesus executed?"
The man trembled at this question; the perspiration stood on his
forehead, and he could scarcely stammer the words: "He is... he has ...
we thought...."
"What did you think?" interrupted Cambyses, and a new light of hope
seemed to dawn in his mind. "Is it possible, that you did not carry out
my orders at once? Can Croesus still be alive? Speak at once, I must
know the whole truth."
The captain writhed like a worm at his lord's feet, and at last
stammered out, raising his hands imploringly towards the king: "Have
mercy, have mercy, my Lord the king! I am a poor man, and have thirty
children, fifteen of whom..."
"I wish to know if Croesus is living or dead."
"He is alive! He has done so much for me, and I did not think I
was doing wrong in allowing him to live a few hours longer, that he
might...."
"That is enough," said the king breathing freely. "This once your
disobedience shall go unpunished, and the treasurer may give you two
talents, as you have so many children.--Now go to the prisoners,--tell
Croesus to come hither, and the others to be of good courage, if they
are innocent."
"My King is the light of the world, and an ocean of mercy."
"Bartja and his friends need not remain any longer in confinement; they
can walk in the court of the palace, and you will keep guard over them.
You, Datis, go at once to the hanging-gardens and order Boges to defer
the execution of the sentence on the Egyptian Princess; and further, I
wish messengers sent to the post-station mentioned by the Athenian, and
the wounded man brought hither under safe escort."
The "king's eye" was on the point of departure, but Phanes detained him,
saying: "Does my King allow me to make one remark?"
"Speak."
"It appears to me, that the chief of the eunuchs could give the most
accurate information. During his delirium the youth often mentioned his
name in connection with that of the girl he seemed to be in love with."
"Go at once, Datis, and bring him quickly."
"The high-priest Oropastes, Gaumata's brother, ought to appear too; and
Mandane, whom I have just been assured on the most positive authority,
is the principal attendant of the Egyptian Princess."
"Fetch her, Datis."
"If Nitetis herself could..."
At this the king turned pale and a cold shiver ran through his limbs.
How he longed to see his darling again! But the strong man was afraid of
this woman's reproachful looks; he knew the captivating power that lay
in her eyes. So he pointed to the door, saying "Fetch Boges and Mandane;
the Egyptian Princess is to remain in the hanging-gardens, under strict
custody."
The Athenian bowed deferentially; as if he would say: "Here no one has a
right to command but the king."
Cambyses looked well pleased, seated himself again on the purple divan,
and resting his forehead on his hand, bent his eyes on the ground and
sank into deep thought. The picture of the woman he loved so dearly
refused to be banished; it came again and again, more and more vividly,
and the thought that these features could not have deceived him--that
Nitetis must be innocent--took a firmer root in his mind; he had already
begun to hope. If Bartja could be cleared, there was no error that might
not be conceivable; in that case he would go to the hanging-gardens,
take her hand and listen to her defence. When love has once taken firm
hold of a man in riper years, it runs and winds through his whole nature
like one of his veins, and can only be destroyed with his life.
The entrance of Croesus roused Cambyses from his dream; he raised the
old man kindly from the prostrate position at his feet, into which he
had thrown himself on entering, and said: "You offended me, but I will
be merciful; I have not forgotten that my father, on his dying bed, told
me to make you my friend and adviser. Take your life back as a gift from
me, and forget my anger as I wish to forget your want of reverence.
This man says he knows you; I should like to hear your opinion of his
conjectures."
Croesus turned away much affected, and after having heartily welcomed
the Athenian, asked him to relate his suppositions and the grounds on
which they were founded.
The old man grew more and more attentive as the Greek went on, and when
he had finished raised his hands to heaven, crying: "Pardon me, oh ye
eternal gods, if I have ever questioned the justice of your decrees.
Is not this marvellous, Cambyses? My son once placed himself in great
danger to save the life of this noble Athenian, whom the gods have
brought hither to repay the deed tenfold. Had Phanes been murdered in
Egypt, this hour might have seen our sons executed."
And as he said this he embraced Hystaspes; both shared one feeling;
their sons had been as dead and were now alive.
The king, Phanes, and all the Persian dignitaries watched the old men
with deep sympathy, and though the proofs of Bartja's innocence were as
yet only founded on conjecture, not one of those present doubted it one
moment longer. Wherever the belief in a man's guilt is but slight, his
defender finds willing listeners.