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