CHAPTER XIV
THE WAR AGAINST EGYPT
THE Great King continued to prepare for war with the Egyptians. There came to him a Greek named Phanes, who at one time had been high in the service of King Amasis of Egypt, but who, having conspired against him, was compelled to flee. By flattery and art he raised himself high in the estimation of Cambyses and inflamed his mind with tales of the wealth that would be found in the great temples of the Nile Valley. The King then hastened his preparations and sent him to raise levies amongst the Ionian Greeks. The Greeks who remained in the service of the Egyptian King so hated him because of his treachery that they had made a blood covenant to kill him. But he succeeded in recruiting a large body of his countrymen, who marched with him and the Prince of Iran towards Tyre.
When spring opened, the vast array of men whom the King had gathered from Iran, Assyria, and Babylonia, marched by way of Damascus towards Tyre. Many nations contributed troops. Wild mountaineers of the Caucasus marched shoulder to shoulder with the polished, slighter-built Babylonians. The light-armed Getæ and Derbicæ rode with the heavy cavalry of the Medes and Persians. From Bactra and Sogdiana came a portion of the veteran army of King Hystaspis. From the Zagros and Elburz mountains poured out the fierce infantry of Aryan blood. Chariots, hundreds in number, rumbled over the rough desert roads. Bowmen, spearmen, slingers, and swordsmen, a half million or more in all, rolled like a tide across the wastes. The army under the Prince of Iran was composed for the most part of veterans of many wars, inured to army life and eager to follow their Prince to battle. Its nucleus was the old Imperial Guard of Cyrus, recruited to its full number of thirty thousand horsemen. The remainder were fighters from the warlike peoples of his satrapy—Lydians, Greeks, Scythians of the Black Sea regions, Paphlagonians, Hebrews, and Syrians.
It was springtime when the Great King, leaving Patatheites, the Magian, as regent of the empire, departed from his capital of Hamadan, accompanied by his sister-wife, Artistone, and a portion of his harem. A thousand servants marched with him to administer to his comfort. He journeyed by easy stages to Damascus and thence to Tyre.
The city of Tyre, though nominally independent, had been coerced into lending her fleets to the King of Kings. Though it occupied a strong position on an island and though its people carried on a great trade with Egypt, yet when the veteran army of the Prince of Iran encamped on the mainland opposite, and his demand came in the name of the Great King that it should furnish a fleet of vessels for his use, it hastened to comply.
During the weeks that had passed since he had received a copy of the decree of the King concerning the marriage of Cambyses to his sisters, the Prince had visibly aged. He had become taciturn and stern. A smile seldom appeared upon his countenance. His officers, who had known him for years, sympathized with him but grumbled at his obstinacy in not declaring war against Cambyses. They were ready for revolt. Gobryas especially was discontented. He was bitter towards the King because of the wreck of his hopes of winning Artistone. He reported to the Prince the spirit of revolt that pervaded the army and urged him repeatedly to act; but the latter requested him to wait.
When the Persian and Bactrian troops arrived, having outmarched the King, who lingered at Damascus, their leaders came to the Prince and offered their services, if he would but consent to seize the government. Letters arrived from Otanes, urging him to seize Cambyses. To all he said, “Wait!” Couriers came from his father counseling prudence and loyalty, at least until it should certainly appear that the King held Athura against her will. A mighty struggle went on within him. Oath-bound loyalty to the King could scarce restrain the wrath that fired his soul to action against the hated tyrant.
When the couriers arrived from Damascus saying that the King was about to leave that city, the Prince called them aside and inquired of them if they knew whether the King was bringing his sisters with him. They reported that he had with him Artistone, whom he presented to all as his Queen; but as for Athura no one knew where she was, though it was currently reported that he had imprisoned her in his harem at Hamadan. His own couriers and spies returned from Hamadan without other information than rumors, some of which indicated that Athura was dead, others that she had escaped to Persia, and others that she was imprisoned in the King’s harem.
While he was in this state of indecision, resolved one day to raise the standard of revolt and march against Cambyses, and the next to remain loyal, at least till he should know the truth concerning Athura’s fate, Prexaspes, attended by a company of Medean cavalry, rode into camp and requested an interview. The Prince received him without delay, and alone in his tent. The wily Mede, after due salutation, went straight to the subject of his mission.
“Great and illustrious Prince,” he said, as he stood before the Prince of Iran, who looked upon him coldly and suspiciously, “I have come on in advance of the King with his permission. I have heard of the efforts of the powerful ones to persuade you to revolt and I know also that you believe you have just cause in the act of the King with relation to his sisters. I have made the Great King realize that he has committed the worst blunder of his life and that upon your acts will not only depend the result of this war but the continuance of his empire. I call to your remembrance that the subject nations are but waiting for the outbreak of civil war amongst the Aryans to throw off the Aryan rule. Should you revolt, every conquered nation would revolt; and if you should succeed, you would have the world to conquer over again. This you know as well as I. Is it not so?”
He paused. The Prince of Iran inclined his head in assent.
“Proceed with your message,” he said coldly.
“This being so,” continued Prexaspes, “I deemed it best to come hither and tell you the facts with relation to the King’s brother and sister. I am reliably informed that Prince Bardya is dead. He died at the hands of mountain robbers. Of course I do not know this for certain. As to the Princess Athura, she escaped the same day that the King issued his decree, a copy of which I sent to you. He never consummated his marriage with her. I know that she escaped, because the King suspected that I had aided her. As to whether I did aid her or not, I say nothing, except that I rejoiced when I heard it—not openly, for I apparently made every exertion to find her. Now the King was advised to marry his sisters by a certain Magian prophet who predicted that a son of his sister should sit on the throne after him. The King is impulsive and acted without advising with me. But having married Artistone, he is satisfied that he has complied with the prophet’s prediction; and in order that you may know his good-will towards you he has made a second decree, declaring that Athura is free from wedlock with him and granting her leave to marry whom she will. This am I directed to place in your hand upon being satisfied that you are firm in adherence to your oath taken to Cyrus and will state that you will remain loyal to the King. The King also confirms you in the office of chief commander of this army under him. I assure you, Great Prince, that the King is sincere, though, I frankly state, it is because he knows that one word from you or any injury to you would be the signal for the rebellion of all Iran save perhaps Medea.”
He paused. The Prince stood in silence a moment gazing at the floor, considering the King’s message.
“Will the King give me his statement as King that he has not done injury to Athura?” he then demanded.
“Not only that, but he has stated in this his decree that the marriage never has been consummated. Furthermore I know all that happened from a private examination of the servants who saw the King when he went to the Princesses to announce his will to them,—how he fled from Athura’s dagger; how he set watches at her bedroom door; how there stood open the lattice of a closet-window connected with the bedroom by which she escaped; and how, afterwards, the rope ladder by which she passed over the walls was found; and it is even known how she purchased a horse which later was found near Bagistan. She rode away on it disguised as a youth. There she disappeared.”
The Prince started and smiled slightly when Prexaspes mentioned the hinged lattice in the closet-window. He had heard from Athura of this means of egress before. He asked eagerly, “No further trace of her has been found?”
“No. But the King thinks she has fled to you or to Persia.”
The Prince did not answer this suggestion but held his hand out for the decrees, saying: “Assure the King that I accept his decree and will loyally support him. But let him not again, I implore, place me in so grave a position, lest I forget my vow to the great Cyrus!” He took the decrees from the hand of Prexaspes, who bowed low and backed from the tent with a second low salaam.
So it came about that Cambyses feared not to come on to Tyre and that the army, duly marshaled in massive lines, received the Great King with honor. The Prince of Iran, accompanied by Hydarnes of the foot soldiers, Vomisces of the cavalry, and a hundred other Persian officers, greeted the King at the limits of the camp and followed him as he rode slowly between the lines of soldiers to his pavilion. The soldiers knelt as he passed, shuddering or wondering as they saw the bloated red face and cold, glittering eyes of their ruler. When they saw the Prince of Iran riding near his right hand in the place of honor, they were pleased and broke forth in acclamations, which the Great King thought were given to him. But his countenance gave no indication of his emotions, and his greetings to his officers were slight and cold.
No sooner had the King entered his pavilion and called for wine than Prexaspes, who had personal charge of the King’s household, entered, and, having bent his knee, requested leave to speak. The King said impatiently:
“Well, speak! Undoubtedly you come to preach policy again! I liked not the dark looks of those cursed Persians! I have a mind to send some of those officers a bowstring!”
“Having your gracious leave, O King, I will speak plainly,” said Prexaspes, boldly. “Does not my welfare depend solely upon your favor? Believe that I speak, therefore, for your best interests. There was grave trouble brewing amongst those Persians. The favor you have shown to the Magi and your marriage with your sister, against which, you know, I most strongly advised, and the grave insult thereby inflicted upon the Prince of Iran, have stirred in them the spirit of revolt. I have trembled, O King! My spies have kept me well informed. There stands between you and destruction at this moment the word of one man, and that one is the Prince of Iran! Order me stricken dead, if you will, O King, for speaking so boldly; but I tell you the truth! I swear by all the gods, I speak the truth!”
The King’s face was dark with wrath, but he realized the force of his adviser’s words. He gulped down a great cup of wine, threw the cup upon the floor, and passed a trembling hand over his face.
“You may speak truth, Prexaspes,” he admitted. “But how about the Medes and the other levies, are they not faithful? They outnumber the Persians and Bactrians. Besides, have I not stultified myself already by your advice and placated that same Prince of Iran?”
“The Medes may be depended upon, but none others. It is true we have placated the Prince of Iran. But with your permission I will offer further advice.”
“Say on!”
“I advise that you send for the Prince of Iran and personally greet him with your royal hand and assure him of your favor as King. Thus will you fasten him to your cause and satisfy the Aryans, by whose power alone you may hope to prosecute this war successfully.”
The King broke forth in a torrent of curses and imprecations. It was a bitter tonic that Prexaspes had prescribed. He hated the Prince of Iran with the hatred of jealousy and fear. He ended his explosion by saying:
“But the day will come when I shall surely slay that man! Now, indeed, I see that I must dissemble. Press me not too far on this path, Prexaspes, lest I slay you! Go then and command him to come here. I will dissemble. I will be as wise as a serpent—for a time!”
Prexaspes bowed low and backed from the royal presence. He sent a messenger to the Prince of Iran, who came at once.
The Prince was pale but composed. He bowed low over the King’s extended hand, saying: “I am here at the King’s command. Let it please the King to command.”
The King glowered sullenly upon the Prince, but endeavored to infuse into his tones a note of cordiality, as he said: “Prince Hystaspis, I have trusted you greatly, though, as you well know, no love has ever been between us. I hear that there has been much treasonable talk in this army.”
“I know there is much dissatisfaction, O King!” answered the Prince. “But it cannot be said to be treasonable. The people of Iran like not the power and place given to the fire-worshipers of the hills. The Persians, who occupied the chief places under King Cyrus, are grieved that they have not found favor with his son.”
“We will show these proud slaves who grumble, that the King of Kings brooks no interference!” exclaimed the King, his anger blazing forth for an instant. “Prexaspes has given you my decree concerning Athura. You may rest assured that she and you may marry safely. Where is she? Of all men, you should know.”
The Prince was surprised at this question, and the manner of the King. Evidently Cambyses was endeavoring to restrain his passions and speak pleasantly to him.
“I have not seen the royal lady since I bade her farewell at Persepolis and took with me her pledge to marry me,” he answered. “Neither have I had a letter from her since the day when it pleased you to make a new law that the King might marry his sisters. Nor have I heard what has become of her, save that I did hear rumors that she had escaped or had been slain by your orders.”
“The report that Athura is dead is not true!” said Cambyses. “She fled from the palace the day my decree was made and keeps well hidden, though my slaves have searched the world for her. Find her and marry her, if you will! You have my consent. Let that subject be forgotten between us. Is this army ready to march?”
“It is ready.”
“Then let the march begin on the morrow. The insults we have received from Egypt’s King must be avenged and that country added to our empire. It is said to be very rich. I am weary with the day’s journey and will rest. Give such orders as you deem necessary. Cambyses, the King of Kings, remembers not the former days. My trust and favor I give to you; and my consent to your marriage with Athura shall not be withdrawn.”
He turned away, and the Prince with a salute left the pavilion. It seemed to the latter that the sky had taken on a new glory and that the golden rays of the setting sun were indicative of joy. A load had been lifted from his heart. Athura had escaped a miserable fate and must be still alive. One so resourceful as she would know how to save herself. It mattered little that Cambyses hated him. His duty demanded faithful service to the King and his oath to the Great King would remain unbroken. He called together his friends among the officers and briefly informed them that all present cause for dissatisfaction had been removed and that he expected of them loyal service to the King.
On the next day the great army slowly uncoiled its vast length and moved down the narrow coast-line of Canaan, bearing woe to ancient Egypt.
Egypt was ill-prepared for war. From the time that Cyrus had reduced all Syria, including Canaan, to subjection, the Egyptian King, Amasis, had known that a conflict with the new world-power would come. He had heard of the preparations for war made by Cambyses and had endeavored to make ready. But Egypt had long since lost its ancient vigor. Its people had become rich and indolent. They loved not war. They depended mainly upon foreign auxiliaries hired by their money for their defense. Thirty thousand Greeks and many thousand adventurers from other lands formed the main strength of the Egyptian army. Levies drawn from an agricultural and trading people among the Egyptians themselves were neither practiced in war nor enthusiastic in the service and made poor soldiers. They were brave and many in number, but they knew little discipline. They could not stand before the fearful rush of the Persian cavalry or the tiger-like ferocity of the Aryan infantry. They outnumbered the army of Cambyses, but their very numbers were a source of weakness because of their lack of discipline.
Just as the war was beginning, old King Amasis had died, leaving his throne to a youth named Psammenitus, who had not the skill himself nor good generals to lead his army. But he marched forth and took position in the desert near Pelusium, with the left of his line of battle resting on the Great Sea and its right protecting the water-wells and barring the main caravan road to Egypt, determined to strike one blow in defense of his kingdom. His Greeks were placed on the left, supported by Cretan slingers. The center was held by stout Ethiopian infantry, black men of ferocious courage, armed with javelins and swords, terrible in close contest. Behind them was a mass of Egyptians. On the right, where the plain was more level, there were two hundred chariots supported by a mass of irregular cavalry, principally Arabs, armed with scimiters and long, slender spears.
The Prince of Iran led the Aryan host with his thirty thousand horsemen of the Guard, driving back the Arab cavalry which came out to harass his advance, until the position and extent of the Egyptian army were disclosed. From the crest of a sand-dune near the sea, he carefully surveyed the position occupied by Psammenitus. It was the afternoon of a cloudless day. At his right glistened the sea, its oily waves scarce rippling on the shores. At his left and rear, the mountains of Palestine were a dim cloud on the horizon. Before him was a vast plain, gray and brown with dust and sand, where the opposing army was making ready for battle. He noted the orderly Greeks, the dark array of Ethiopians, and the wheeling, clattering chariots, taking their appointed places. The Prince was accompanied by Gobryas and several of his chief captains, who stood near with the light of battle in their eyes and joy in their hearts. For the long, hot marches would end here in victory. They did not dream of defeat.
The Prince soon formed his plan of battle. He directed the Guard to take a position in a long line, with its right resting at the sand-dune and its left thrown back in a wide curve so as to protect the approaching infantry from attacks of the Arabs.
“Let all our forces be brought up to-night and placed in position. Let them sleep on their arms and be ready to attack at daylight. The wells of water are in possession of the enemy and we must have them to-morrow or die of thirst. Here must we conquer or die. If we lose the battle, every tribe in Syria and Armenia will revolt and attempt to cut us off from retreat to our homes,” said the Prince, turning to his officers after a long survey of the field.
He then gave orders for placing the troops. As the sun went down, his dusty battalions were taking their appointed positions behind the long line of cavalry. He placed the Persian and Medean infantry opposite the Greeks, with its right resting on the sea. In the center were the allied races, principally footmen. On the left were the war-chariots, opposing the chariots of the enemy. Then the cavalry was withdrawn to the rear and massed behind the extreme left. Imitating the tactics of the Great Cyrus in his last battle, he intended to make a détour to the left with the cavalry, assail the extreme end of the enemy’s right, and roll it back to the sea. The pack-train, camp equipage, and the King’s pavilion were placed in the rear near the sea and enclosed within a palisade of stakes driven into the earth. But the King, as became a Persian warrior, bivouacked with the soldiers, having taken his station on the sand-dunes at the right, where he could see the field of battle.
Night fell upon the opposing hosts, and midnight arrived before the final dispositions were made. Videttes and sentinels were duly stationed, and the tired soldiers lay down on their arms to snatch a few hours of rest. The Prince of Iran was about to lie down on the sand in the midst of his guard when a slave, clad in the livery of the King, came and prayed leave to speak with him. Bidden to speak, he said: “My gracious mistress, the Queen, requests you to come to her if it be possible. I am directed to guide you.”
The Prince hesitated. He knew that Artistone, the younger of the King’s sisters, was referred to as the Queen. It was the privilege of the noble Persians and their wives to visit each other; but the King had introduced the customs of the seraglio, the separate harem, the veiled faces, and the seclusion of wives. The slave, noticing his hesitation, continued: “The King is not in his pavilion and the Queen will meet you in the tent of her slaves. She greatly desires you to come. She would speak of the Princess Athura.”
The Prince no longer hesitated. He drew Gobryas to one side and informed him of his design. Then, throwing a rough cloak about his shoulders, as a disguise, he motioned the servant to proceed, and followed him. They entered the palisadoed camp and went to a tent near the King’s pavilion. The slave watched outside while the Prince went in and met the child-wife of the King.
The interior of the tent was dimly lighted by a lamp burning perfumed oil. At one side was a low couch, and, reclining thereon, was Artistone. He bent his knee before her and kissed the slender white hand she held out to him.
“Greeting, Prince and brother!” said she. “How I have longed to see some one I do not fear! This camp is full of spies, placed by the King to watch me and the other women he has brought with him. Only in this one slave who brought you hither and in two maidens who dress me, have I any confidence. How good it is to see your face!”
“It gives me great delight, little sister, to come at your bidding. How may I serve you?” he returned.
“I hear that a great battle is about to take place. Is it true?”
“It is. But have no fear of the result. We shall scatter the enemy like sand before a desert wind.”
“I have no fear. I would go out and watch the battle if I were permitted. Know you aught of Athura?”
“Nothing, except that the King said she had escaped. Can you tell me of her?”
Tears filled the Queen’s eyes and wet her cheeks. “Alas!” she said, “I fear she is dead. She locked herself in her room after attempting to stab the King with her dagger when he came and announced to us his decree of marriage. The palace-guards were set to watch at the door. I was taken away and never saw her more. Sometimes, when the King is savage and drunken or is displeased and desires to cause me grief, he says that he had her tortured to death. But at other times he says that she escaped. I hoped that she had communicated with you. Surely she must be dead or she would have done so!”
“She attempted to slay him?”
“Yes. Her fury was terrible. The King would have been killed had he not fled. He came to our sitting-room, the room in the palace where we so often played when we were children, and announced that he would make us his wives. After some words, Athura drew a dagger and sprang upon him. He leaped back out of the room and ran. He shouted to the guards. They came. She retreated to her bedroom and barred the door. Then the King dragged me away and—I am the most unhappy woman living! Ah! how often I think of those pleasant days of our childhood when our mother loved and played with us and our father smiled upon us so graciously! Do you not remember them? Will happiness never return to me again? Should I die by my own hand as I am tempted?”
The Prince was deeply affected. His voice shook with emotion, as he answered: “Child, it may be the day of deliverance will come, perhaps to-morrow. Who knows? I know not what to advise. Death is but a step into a better existence. Did not Zoroaster, the divine, so teach? What said Belteshazzer, the Hebrew? He, the wisest of men, who talks with spirits, who reads all dreams and riddles, who prophesies of the future—he says that death is a blessed relief, in that we drop a body which suffers and is weak, while the spirit life is one of great glory and peace. I do not advise death. I do not think Athura is dead. It may be she has gone to Prince Bardya or to my father in Bactra. It is a long way to Bactra, and it has been difficult to send messengers. There are many reasons why she should not communicate.”
Artistone shuddered and leaned nearer to him as she whispered in a frightened manner: “But she could not go to Bardya! I am sure that the King has murdered him. Oh, I saw him as one slain! On the night of the farewell feast, long after he had left the room, the Magi were performing wonders and producing specters and awful forms. At the last there came the pale face of Bardya, floating in the air above them, fierce, blood-stained, with a horrible wound in the forehead as if made by a sword! I have heard the King mutter in his sleep, as he lay half-drunken in the night, about the murder of Bardya. He talks in his sleep and sees fearful visions! He wakes trembling and shrieking with fear. Ah, my brother, I know that Bardya is dead!”
The Prince believed her and smote his knee with his clenched fist, as he exclaimed: “The day will come when the devil-worshipers, with their black lies and conjuring, will be put down with a mighty hand! And thou,” he cried, raising his face and one hand to heaven, “O Ahura-Mazda, the only God, grant to me the opportunity to avenge the death of Bardya, to avenge the insults to your altars, upon that whole evil caste; and I will declare your glory upon all the hills!”
“May your prayer be granted!” said the Queen, fervently. “How the world would be blessed if some day you should lead the hosts of truth against these evil and idolatrous men! The nations would rejoice if you were monarch of the world instead of this monster!”
“Hush!” warned the Prince. “My oath will permit no such thoughts, and it is not wise that you should thus speak. But I must now leave you. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, my brother. I desire you not to think evil of me. I am not gifted with the will of Athura. I have elected to suffer awhile in patience my strange and unnatural position as wife of the King. Sister and wife! Such I have heard is the evil custom of the Egyptians, who, it is said by Phanes, the Greek, even married their own mothers as well as their sisters, in order that their royal race might not mingle with a less royal! Have great care, my brother! The King would slay you if he dared. He is jealous of you.”
The Prince arose and stood looking down in great pity at the childish, careworn face of Artistone.
“I do not fear the King,” he said. “I am guarded by a powerful spirit who will not permit harm to come to me. I do not serve Cambyses, but, rather, the King of Kings and the Aryan race. I shall go into battle, rejoicing to fight for my people. I hope the day may soon come when I may aid in crushing those liars who are destroying true religion and leading Cambyses astray. But now I must go. Should need come, send for me.”
He turned to leave; but she asked, while a faint color suffused her pale cheeks: “What of the noble Gobryas? Is he well and—happy?”
“He is well, but he is not happy. Gobryas has been much pained by the action of the King in forcing you into this unnatural marriage. May I say to him that you remember him kindly?”
“Yes. Tell him that it will please me more than all else, if he shall acquit himself well in the battle, and that he must not too greatly endanger his life. We know not what the future has in store. Farewell, brother! May Sraosha place his buckler before you on the morrow!”
The Prince departed quietly. The child-queen buried her face in her arms and wept bitterly.
At the first gray light of morn the Prince and several officers rode swiftly along the front of the army. As they passed, the soldiers sprang up and shouted, clashing their arms upon their shields and demanding to be led to battle. He paused here and there to utter words of direction and advice to the officers. To the center he said: “You must move slowly forward and hold all the ground you gain until you see the cavalry charging the right of the enemy. Then go forward with a rush.” To the general of the right wing he said: “Stand fast here on the sand-dunes and attack not those Greeks until you see the cavalry charging the Egyptian right. Then go forward and quit you like men. For those Greeks are brave warriors.”
He paused before the King, who sat on a rude throne placed upon the summit of a hillock of sand from which he could view the battle. “Live forever, O King!” he said, saluting. “When it pleases you to order the battle joined, we are ready.”
The King glowered at him sullenly. He was sore and ill-natured after his night on the ground. “See to it that you win this battle for me, or death shall be your portion!” he said. “Let no quarter be given to those dogs yonder, who by their impudence have brought on them my wrath and have caused me weariness in sleeping out here beneath the stars!”
“I hear your words,” replied the Prince, coldly. “Rest assured that we shall win this battle or we shall welcome death.”
“Enough!” exclaimed the King. “Join battle when you please! I have no appetite for talk. I have sent for wine and will drink while you slay yonder reptile-worshipers. I do not see their godlike calf at the front. Have a care of his horns!” The King laughed at his own wit.
Again saluting, the Prince turned his horse and galloped off, followed by his staff. He saw that the enemy was also making ready for battle, and he forgot the King in the fierce joy of conflict. Placing himself at the head of his cavalry, he gave the signal for advance.
Two hundred chariots sprang forward, and the long lines of infantry moved. From the other side opposing chariots dashed out and, in a moment, the crash of colliding wheels and the shouts and screams of combatants arose. The Persian cavalry rode at a brisk trot out to the left and by a wide circuit came in upon the right flank and rear of the Egyptians, scattering the Arabs who vainly sought to oppose. Along the whole front, two miles or more in extent, the battle was joined. The sky was filled with darts. The sun, springing up from the east, flashed upon sword and spear and upon struggling men who stabbed and slashed and reviled and cursed each other. The Aryan right as ordered stood still. But the Greeks of the opposing line came forward to the assault, like a moving wall prickly with spears, their fair, eager faces ablaze with the light of battle; and as they came on they shouted to Phanes daring him to come and meet them whom he had betrayed. Slingers and archers pelted them as they advanced; but, partially covered by their big, round shields, they did not halt. The Persian and Medean infantry was not terrified, but prayed the captains for leave to charge. The presence of the King, in whose sight they must do or die, nerved the Aryan soldier for the contest. When the Greeks arrived at the base of the sand-dunes, the King, disregarding the orders of the Prince of Iran, directed his infantry to charge, and the men sprang forward and down upon the Greeks with spears at rest. Then was shown the splendid discipline of these mercenaries of Psammenitus. They met the living wall of men rolling down upon them with firm, up-thrusting spears. The shock was terrific. The lines swayed back and forth. The longer spears of the Greeks gave them the advantage. Unable to reach their enemies, the Persians impotently struggled against the iron hedge and were thrust back. Cambyses observed the contest with alarm. He sent in his own body-guard to aid the hard-pressed infantry. But the Greeks moved steadily onward. Their phalanx could not be pierced. They seemed invincible. They surmounted the hills. But here the uneven ground broke their formation somewhat and enabled the Persians to press in and come to close quarters.
Cambyses was no coward. He stayed with his guard, but he began to cast about for aid. He saw the long, swaying lines of men to his left, where the allies fought with the fierce Ethiopians. He observed the mixed and tangled wreckage of struggling horses and men where the chariots had met. Looking beyond, he saw the dense mass of Persian cavalry, led by the Prince of Iran in person, on a magnificent white horse, wheeling about upon the rear and right flank of the Egyptians, driving back a cloud of Arabs. He watched the cavalry come thundering down upon the rear of the enemy, bringing terror and confusion. Psammenitus, who was mounted on a fleet dromedary, also saw the coming destruction and, terrified, fled from the field at full speed. The Ethiopians, trodden down and overthrown by the heavy Persian horse, lost courage and quickly became a mob. The savage allies of the Persian line hewed them down without mercy. In a very short space of time none but the Greeks were left to present any resistance. Their captains, seeing that the battle was lost, ceased the forward movement and sought to form their ranks in a square. Surrender was not considered, for the hated Phanes was with the enemy. But because of the inequalities of the ground, they were not able to form before the Prince’s cavalry rode in upon them, broke through their wavering lines, smote them with maces, hewed them with swords, and stabbed them with javelins, until few were left. They stood their ground to the last and, in death, nobly redeemed their oaths to Psammenitus. So, in vast slaughter, the army of the Egyptian King disappeared, and with it fell Egypt.