CAMBYSES, the King of Kings, King of the World, made a feast at his palace in Hamadan in honor of his brother Bardya, who, as the order announcing the feast declared, was about to return to his future capital and home in Bactra. All the rulers and notables of Persia and Medea were commanded to be present on a certain day to meet the departing Prince and to say farewell.
Forty days and more had passed since the funeral of Cyrus. The King accompanied by his brother and sisters, had departed with all his retinue from Pasargadæ and returned to Hamadan. Cambyses had no love for the Persian capital, but he did love Hamadan. At the latter city resided his boon companions, and there the moral laws were less observed and the people cared little what their rulers did so long as they themselves were allowed some license.
Bardya had twice demanded of the King audience without result, and finally had written to him a note stating that he would presently return to Bactra with or without his permission. It was then that the King had called Prexaspes to him.
“Prexaspes,” he said, glowering upon him truculently, “I expressed a wish to you concerning that sprig, Bardya, when we talked at Pasargadæ. It seems that my wish is forgotten!”
The King’s countenance was clouded. He held in his hand a tablet on which was written the last message from Bardya. He read this aloud to Prexaspes, then dashed it to the floor with such force that the delicate plate was shattered in bits.
Prexaspes was not alarmed. He had seen such ebullitions of wrath before. “I have not forgotten the King’s words,” he replied smoothly. “His commands shall be obeyed. But the Prince is so closely watched by the men of his body-guard and he so invariably refuses to accept my invitations to visit places where the—the—accident could happen without the people knowing the true cause, that it has been impossible to accomplish it.”
“Nothing should be impossible when the King commands!” bellowed Cambyses. “Look to it sharp! Here is he demanding leave to return to his kingdom. His kingdom, indeed! His presence here is a displeasure to me. Away with you and immediately accomplish this task, or I will give your body to the vultures!”
Prexaspes bowed low in affected terror. “If the King will permit his servant to speak, I have thought of a plan,” he said.
Cambyses glared at him a moment, his bloated countenance flushed with passion and his right hand clutching nervously at the dagger on his thigh. It was an inner room of the great palace and they were alone. Prexaspes watched the madman closely, ready to flee or to engage him in mortal combat should he attack. Beneath his own Medean robe lurked a long, keen dagger which he well knew how to use. But the King was not so angry as he pretended. Seeing that his servant was properly impressed, he said more calmly: “A plan? Well it is that you have a plan! Speak!”
“Permit me to see that no one listens or lurks near,” suggested Prexaspes, backing towards the door. He drew the heavy curtains and looked into the hall. He looked out of the narrow windows into the garden. Satisfied that no one could hear, he went close to the King.
“O King, your gracious leave being given,” he said, “I suggest that you give a great feast in honor of your brother and that you publicly consent that he may return to Bactra. Permit me to arrange for his departure. I will suggest to him that he is in danger and that he flee from this city at night. I will pretend to be his friend. He shall arrive at no other destination than death. There will ride out towards Rhages next day one who looks like him so much that they cannot be distinguished save by friends. In the desert beyond Rhages, this man will disappear, and it will be announced that your brother has been carried away by robbers. His friends must be kept here by your order. Let me have your signet ring, that I may have my orders obeyed.”
“Who is the man that resembles Bardya so much?”
“It is Gaumata, the man whose ears the great Cyrus caused to be cut off because of his insolence.”
“Nay, not for any fault of his, Prexaspes, but because my father hated and despised him. Now I think of him, I do remember a great likeness between them. Proceed! Here is my signet. Only see to it that I be rid of this pestilent fellow!”
The King turned away, dismissing his chamberlain with a gesture. Prexaspes at once left the room and proceeded to his quarters in the palace, where he shut himself in and occupied himself for some time in writing three documents—one, an order from the King commanding Prexaspes to slay Bardya, the King’s brother; one, a message to Bardya permitting him to return to Bactra on a certain day; and, the third, a decree directing a great feast to be held in honor of his departure. Having sealed these with the King’s signet, Prexaspes went to the west wing of the palace, where Bardya and his sisters had their residence and where the King never went. He requested the servants to inform the Prince that he bore a message from the King.
Bardya was moodily pacing back and forth in the park adjacent to the palace when the servant found him. He was going over in his mind the details of a plan he had formed for escape. By the King’s orders he had not been allowed to go and come as freely in the city as he chose. He knew that spies were constantly watching his movements and that any attempt to escape on his part would lead to instant arrest. He directed the servant to bring Prexaspes to him, and presently that worthy appeared and bowed low before him.
“Live forever, O Prince!” said Prexaspes. “If I am permitted to speak, I have a message from the King.”
Bardya looked upon Prexaspes loftily and disdainfully. This carefully dressed, combed and curled courtier of the King pleased him not. This man was the embodiment of the Mede, the luxury-loving, mixed breed of Aryan and Semite, whom the Prince despised.
“Speak!” he said shortly.
“I have here an order of the Great King directing that you may return to your dominions one week from to-day, and a second order that a great feast be made in your honor and that you be sent forth properly escorted by one hundred men under my charge.”
He paused. The Prince’s face lighted with joy and he struck his hands together as he exclaimed: “Truly this is good news, Prexaspes! How about my sisters and companions?”
“It is not ordered that they accompany you.”
The Prince’s face grew dark. “What?” he demanded harshly. “Does this King deny my sisters their right to go where they choose and does he insult me by withholding the company of my friends?”
Prexaspes glanced about uneasily and placed a finger on his lips, shaking his head warningly. He drew nearer to the Prince, saying in a low voice: “Have a care, Prince Bardya! The King waits only for some excuse and for a convenient day, to slay you. I will reveal to you what I know. Swear to keep silent should you escape! Give me the royal word of an Achæmenian that you will not betray me and that when you come to your kingdom you will remember me as a King should. Then will I reveal what is planned to compass your death.”
Bardya hesitated. He searched the dark countenance of Prexaspes, striving to penetrate the mask of earnestness there assumed.
“You have my word. Speak!” he said after some hesitation.
“I am indeed commanded to lead you with the escort of one hundred men toward Rhages, but it is also ordered that you be slain before you reach that city. I am not willing to stain my hands in the royal blood of Iran. Neither am I willing that my head pay the forfeit of failing to have the King’s orders obeyed. Therefore, believe me, I have planned in good faith for your escape. On the night before the day set for your departure, the feast will be held. You must attend the feast. At midnight there will be a great exhibition of magic by the priests of the Magi. The King will be drunk by that time and engrossed with watching the performances. You will then have opportunity to leave the assembly room unnoticed by him and to return to your apartments. I will see that the guards are removed. You will take what jewels you have and leave your apartments to meet me at the western gate of the park, where horses will await us. Wear a rough soldier’s cloak over your armor. It will be easy for us to pass the guards and leave the city, as I shall have the pass-words. I will accompany you beyond the city limits on the northern road. I will put money in your saddle-bags and you may travel as a merchant. As soon as you are beyond the city I will return. Next day, there will ride forth one who much resembles you and who will dress as you dress,—Gaumata, the Magian. He will ride beyond Rhages. He will there disappear, and those who allow him to escape will feel the wrath of the Great King. Meanwhile you may travel unnoticed to Bactra. Is it not a good plan?”
Bardya listened with distrust. He did not answer immediately. He pondered, not the plan, but the man who proposed it. As if reading his thoughts, Prexaspes added: “Why need you distrust me? If I chose to slay you, could I not come with the King’s order, take you to the dungeons, and there have you slain? Why should I make this plan? Surely you do not fear that I am able, single-handed, to overcome you on the northern road,—you, than whom no stronger swordsman rides a Nicæan steed! You will be armed and have a coat of mail. You may take all precautions. I seek only to do you a service.”
His words touched the Prince’s vanity. Of course he feared no single man, he the celebrated strong-arm Prince of the world! The desire for liberty was strong in him and the romance of a night escape appealed to him.
“Prexaspes, I agree,” he said. “It matters little whether you speak truly or falsely. It will be better to try an escape than to remain here; and, should the King overtake me with his guards, I can no more than die. Should I escape by this plan, come to me at Bactra and I will reward you royally. Or better still, times and seasons may change and Kings may change; and if Ahura-Mazda be willing, I may be here again some day able to give great honors and rewards!”
Prexaspes smiled beneath his curly beard. His snake-like eyes flashed. “Let it be settled, then,” he rejoined. “At the midnight hour, return to your apartments, not letting any of your friends know your purpose. Meet me at the western park gate alone, and we will ride forth alone. Leave word with your servants that you are tired and are not to be called until the noon hour on the morrow. Farewell for the present!”
Prexaspes turned away and disappeared through the shrubbery. The Prince paced onward till he came to the western limits of the park and noted the gate of which Prexaspes had spoken. He also saw that a company of soldiers had their tents pitched among the trees beyond the gate and that certain of them as guards paced back and forth along the wall bounding the park. He turned on his heel and returned to the palace. The guards watched him as long as he was in sight and murmured to each other concerning him, their attitude being sympathetic. The Prince was a man of soldierly figure and gracious demeanor. These men would go far to execute the orders of the King of Kings, but they admired the Prince and would not willingly have harmed him.
The Prince walked slowly, his mind revolving the plan suggested for his escape, his head bent and his eyes cast down. He did not see his sister, Athura, coming towards him until he heard her soft voice.
“Brother, why so downcast? Why so thoughtful and preoccupied?”
His countenance lighted with pleasure. There existed between these two a sincere affection. He leaned much upon this sister, whose mind, like that of her great father, was acute and whose judgment was sound.
“How beautiful is my sister!” he said, quoting one of the poets—“Fairer than all the women of earth, more to be beloved than wealth! Her breath is as fragrant as the breath of the rose; her eyes are deeper than the dark vault of heavens at night; her heart is as pure as the white snow on Demavend!”
“Wait till you behold some maiden who will find favor in your sight! Then your sister will be remembered only as your very good friend and your songs of praise will be another’s,” she said. “Did I not see that man, Prexaspes, with you a moment ago?”
“Yes, Princess. I have something to tell you. Let us go yonder to that seat beneath the oak tree. It is apart from all others, so that no one may overhear.”
They went to a rustic seat beneath the spreading branches of a great oak and sat down side by side, and he related all that Prexaspes had said.
“What do you advise?” he asked.
Athura listened closely, her countenance expressing distrust, surprise, and incredulity. She took from the wide belt, that gathered her beautiful robe loosely about her waist, a small roll of papyrus.
“Here is a letter from my Prince which has somewhat to say of this danger you are in,” she said. “I advise that you distrust Prexaspes.”
Bardya looked over her shoulder as she unfolded the paper. “‘Fairest and best of all maidens, Princess of my soul,’” he read aloud laughingly.
Athura quickly turned the first portion of the letter under, saying, “You would joke if death were about to seize you! You shall not read the sweet things he has written. You know not the meaning of them, even if you did believe yourself in love with the daughter of Orobates.”
Bardya in pretended anger placed his hand over her mouth. “Let not that be mentioned!” he exclaimed, with simulated sternness. “I was sixteen and she was very fair. Though she was the daughter of a groom, even yet I sigh for her.”
Having found that part of the letter which she desired to read, Athura said: “Listen to what my Prince says. This was written thirty days ago and was sent to his mother’s house, where he supposed I would be and where I should have been but for a bear of a brother who is King. Listen!
“‘I have been much troubled concerning the words of that great teacher, your father’s former counselor, Belteshazzer, the Hebrew. He is a prophet, acquainted with all wisdom, speaking face to face with the messengers of God. He showed me a vision on the day we halted near Susa. He had been in the wilderness near by and was returning to the city, when I met him on the bank of the Choaspes. He showed me a vision of Achæmenius, the common ancestor of our royal family, yours and mine. A glorious vision! Belteshazzer can read all minds and knows what is in the hearts of men; and he said that the King meditated harm to Prince Bardya. Therefore, I beseech you, my soul, that you advise Bardya to escape as soon as he may and return to Bactra, where he will be safe.
“‘I am now at Damascus, the chief city of Syria, resting before we continue to Sardis. I hear nothing of wars in the realms I go to govern, save the depredations of certain wild tribes on the northeastern border. I look forward to lonely days without you. I may find opportunity to subdue the Ionian cities, which are far too independent and do not properly recognize the majesty of Iran. Till I hear from you I—’”
Athura paused and replaced the letter in her belt, saying, “The rest is for me alone.”
Bardya sat dreamily listening to the rustle of the breeze in the oak leaves and gazing at the dark ridges of Mount Elwend in the west. “I have never thought much of visions, prophecies, or wonder-working performers who deceive the eye by quick movements,” he said after a moment of silence. “Darius says there is a future life; that the soul, leaving this body as one leaves a worn-out cloak, passes into the unseen world and continues to live; that Ahura-Mazda is a God in very truth and that He sends messengers to earth. Darius is wise and learned. If there is a future life and if congenial spirits hover round us, then indeed must those spirits who surround the King be all devils! His savage mind is blinded by love of power and moved to murder by jealousy and fear of me, his brother. I remember Belteshazzer, when he was a great and trusted counselor of Cyrus, our father. I feared him, too; and no man who ever looked into his reproving eye could do otherwise than fear him. I wish I could know the mind of Prexaspes. He seemed sincere. I will go with him and trust to my own arm for protection. But, sweet sister, I fear to leave you here in the power of my brother. Can you not flee with me?”
“Fear not for me, brother. Cambyses will not harm me. He has no excuse. I am not in line for the throne. The right to rule goes to the male descendants of the Achæmenian family. I must not leave Artistone. How can I go now? I should hinder you. Besides, I must wait here for my Prince.”
Bardya did not argue with her further, and she did not oppose his plan of escape further.
The feast day came. There gathered into the great assembly hall of the palace a thousand of the notables of earth to honor the departure of Prince Bardya to his realms. Prexaspes had spared no expense in adorning the palace and in preparing the feast and the entertainments that should accompany it. The many pillars shining with burnished gold plate, which supported the gilded beams of the palace roof, were festooned with garlands of flowers, interwoven with streamers and bunting of many colors. The heavy tapestries of the doors in the assembly room were drawn back with silver chains. Across one end of this room a table was set, from the ends of which extended two longer tables in such manner that the King, when sitting at the center of the first, could see all his guests before him. Those he delighted to honor would sit at his table; others of less consequence would occupy the others. Snowy linen covers were laid. Heavy dishes of gold and silver, jars of beautiful Samos pottery, and vases from Egypt and Greece were put in place on them. Apples, peaches, plums, grapes, pomegranates, figs, and other rare and luscious fruits were heaped on shining platters. Confections, sweet cakes, nuts, salads, and relishes were in profusion. Flowers filled the air with delicious odors. Magnificent couches, on which the feasters might sit or recline as they chose, were placed along the tables. At one side of the room facing the King’s place was a low platform with seats for musicians, who with divers musical instruments would furnish sounds more or less harmonious while the great ones feasted. In adjacent rooms, graceful dancers, supple tricksters, and athletes were waiting to go in before the King and perform. A thousand servants, cooks, tasters, waiters, and attendants made ready the feast.
As the sun disappeared behind the western mountains, a fanfare of trumpets announced that the feast was ready, and thousands of candles were lighted in the great banquet-room. None of those invited had failed to come. The King’s invitation was regarded as a command. In the cloak-room adjacent to the banquet-room, each guest received a purple robe to be worn during the feast and to be carried away by him at its close.
At the appointed moment Prexaspes, as ruler of the feast, appeared, gorgeously dressed and having in his hand a wand. As the guests entered he indicated the seats to be occupied by them, placing them according to their rank. At the King’s table sat Crœsus, late king of Lydia, a prisoner, but an honored guest. There sat also Nebuchadezzer, Prince of Nineveh, and a score of other princes whose dominions were no longer theirs to rule, but who, though prisoners of the King of Kings, sat at his table and showed to the world that they lived on his bounty. When all had been duly placed, they remained standing with faces turned towards the throne at one end of the room and awaited the coming of the King. At the left of the throne was a door covered by heavy purple curtains hanging from ceiling to floor.
Having placed all the guests, Prexaspes touched a cord and the tinkle of a bell announced the coming of royalty. The curtains of the door near the throne were parted and disclosed the King advancing, followed by his brother, his wife, and his two sisters, the women being closely veiled. The King strode heavily forward, his swarthy countenance lowering and his black eyes sweeping over the guests. All the guests bowed low towards him. He sat down heavily at his table. The guests remained standing until Prince Bardya, his sisters, and the King’s wife had taken their places at the King’s table. Then, at a wave of Prexaspes’ wand, the guests sank upon their seats. Immediately, nimble servants with pitchers and goblets appeared from side doors and poured wine for each guest. The King’s cup-bearer stood with a great cup of Helbon wine at the side of his master. The King seized the cup and, after waving it slightly toward his guests, drank from it long and deeply. The guests also drank. The musicians took their places and began playing a weird melody, monotonous and long-drawn-out, with many repetitions and variations. A murmur of conversation arose.
Servants brought on trays of smoking meat, of delicious vegetables and pastries, and for each guest the food to which he was accustomed, prepared to suit his taste. The King ate and drank in silence, not even addressing a word to his wife, who sat at his right hand. Bardya and the royal sisters ate little. Their hearts were full of anxiety over the proposed escape of the Prince. But the King drank much wine. He also called for soma and drank of that liquor deeply. And as he drank, he watched Prexaspes, who ever moved nervously about the room directing the feast. Would the elegant Mede fail? The King began to devise a sufficient punishment to inflict on him should he fail. Dancers were brought in after the feast had well begun and gave an exhibition of sinuous movement, like the curving of a snake’s folds, or the graceful undulations of the sea waves. After the dancers there were performances by jugglers, mountebanks, and tricksters, and athletes displayed their strength and agility in wrestling-bouts. At the close of the feast, Prexaspes stood in the midst and called for silence. Then he said, “O King, by your gracious permission, I will now bring in the Magians who hold communion with the spirits of the departed, who have control of the powers of the gods, and who will divine and prophesy for you, besides doing many other wonderful things.”
The faces of all were turned upon the King; and only on the countenances of the Persian nobles and the faces of Bardya and his sisters was disapproval written.
“Let them come in with their tricks,” said the King, sneeringly. “They may delude us, but they will not convince us. Let them come!”
“Let the lights be partially extinguished!” commanded Prexaspes.
Immediately servants extinguished the candles, except a few at the King’s table, and semi-darkness enveloped them all. Then a band of six Magians entered. Servants brought in a heavy square table and set it in the open space between the dining tables. Others brought in some small tablets and balls, which were placed on the table. The magicians prostrated themselves before the King in salutation and afterwards gathered around the square table in silence and joined hands. They were clad in black robes, which covered their bodies in loose folds from their necks down. Their hands were visible below the wide sleeves of the robes, and their pallid faces shone dead white in the semi-gloom below the dark turbans wound loosely around their heads.
As soon as the lights were extinguished, the King turned his back upon Bardya as if weary of his presence. Then a hand touched Bardya on the shoulder, and, turning, he saw Prexaspes who beckoned with a nod and disappeared into the gloom of a side chamber. Bardya waited a moment until the attention of all was concentrated upon the group of magicians; then, after pressing Athura’s hand lightly, he rose and quietly followed Prexaspes. The King seemed not to notice his movements, but was really watching.
Five minutes later, the Prince, wrapped in a soldier’s cloak, stole out through the park, met Prexaspes there alone, mounted a horse held by him in readiness, passed through the park, and rode away with him through the city towards the northern road. When clear of the city environs, they spurred away at a gallop side by side towards the city of Rhages lying at the foot of distant Mount Demavend.
Meanwhile, in the King’s presence, many wonderful things were happening. After several minutes of silence on the part of the Magians, the heavy table around which they stood rose to the ceiling without apparent supporting hands and there remained several minutes. Balls of light floated about the room near the ceiling. A tree sprang up out of the floor and visibly grew till its top touched the suspended table. Then the table slowly circled about the room, returned, and settled down to the floor. The tree disappeared as it settled. Upon the table, immediately, a mass of writhing snakes appeared, hissing and shooting forth angry red tongues, so that the guests were about to rise and flee in terror. They disappeared. The voice of the chief magician said in sepulchral tones:
“None of these mighty wonders will bring harm to any of you, unless you make a noise and attempt to flee. Remain quietly in your places and behold the wonders of the gods! Know that the spirits of the mountains and of the valleys and of the plains are here, the rulers of earth, whom we serve. Know that there is no other religion worthy of practice than ours. Let the Great King behold and act accordingly!”
The voice ceased and a hush fell over the assembly. The King moved uneasily in his seat, and answered in loud, sarcastic tones: “Tricksters have existed in all nations and in all ages! Your spirits are lying spirits conjured up in your own minds to frighten superstitious men. Bah! There are gods and gods! Show me a spirit!”
“It is well!” answered the magician. “We obey the King of Kings. Only say nothing and move not!”
A deep hush fell upon the assembly. The group of magicians drew together again and formed a circle about the table, placing their joined hands upon it and bowing their heads. Only the chief stood as if in a trance, looking upward. Then, above the heads of the group a pallid, misty light suddenly appeared, growing in density and assuming shape, until it became the shape of a man, wavering, translucent, with a sneering, evil countenance and sinister eyes, such as are ever ascribed to evil spirits. The King drew in his breath sharply and bent forward startled and alarmed. A voice seemed to come from the spirit:
“What would you ask, O King of the Earth?”
For a moment the King could not reply. He was agitated beyond measure. He summoned all his bravado, and with a great effort stammered, “Who and what are you?”
A derisive smile curled the features of the apparition, as the voice replied: “I am your soul’s companion, the spirit that goes with you wherever you go! I am your evil genius! I am—you!”
Rage filled the heart of the King.
“This trick shall not benefit you, O Magians!” he shouted. “Prove to me that this is no delusion or death shall be your portion!”
“Demand of me any proof, O King!” responded the voice.
“Make your own proof!” retorted the King.
Again the derisive smile curled the devilish features of the apparition, while a shivering silence possessed the wondering guests, who looked from it to the King and from the King to it, astonished at the resemblance between them.
“At midnight, O King, last night,” said the apparition in a sepulchral tone, “I walked with you on the portico at the door of your bedroom and your thoughts were of your father and of your brother. Did you hear the whispering in the plane-tree? The thought then in your mind has been accomplished; and there comes hither the spirit of him that troubled you!”
The apparition seemed to turn about and look in fear to the north; then, suddenly, it faded away. A groan arose from the chief Magian. He stirred uneasily and turned his pallid face towards the north. His hands were clenched and he stared into space with terror-stricken gaze. Deathlike hush pervaded the great hall. Then slowly and waveringly there appeared in the place where the former apparition had stood a ghastly face; and it was the image of Bardya, the King’s brother. With fierce eyes it glared down upon the King; and it seemed that blood poured down over the forehead in a trickling stream from a deep cleft in the crown of its head.
A shriek of terrified anguish arose from the Princesses. A chorus of exclamations broke from the guests. The apparition suddenly disappeared. The King sat as if stunned for a moment, looking fixedly at the point where the apparition had been, while his face was contorted with fear and horror. The Magians silently dissolved their circle and quickly disappeared. The lights flared up as servants ran hither and thither relighting the candles. The King arose unsteadily. The guests arose and stood in their places while he wearily moved, or rather tottered, to the door by which he had entered, and disappeared. The sisters, supporting each other and weeping, left the room. The guests then broke into noisy comment and wonder and proceeded to fortify their shaken nerves with wine. Orthodox Persians muttered curses on all Magians. The unorthodox shook their heads and superstitiously resolved to make sacrifices on the morrow to the spirits of the hills and to the gods of the Magians. Arguments arose for and against Magism; but the advocates of that cult had the better of it, since as all had seen, it was capable of ocular demonstration. But the orthodox said it was the religion of devils; as for them, they would continue to worship the Good Spirit! Besides, the latter said, it was evident a fraud had been perpetrated, because Bardya, the King’s brother, had been at the feast well and alive. How could this apparition have been his ghost? In this argument they had the best of it. But they marveled at the King’s agitation.