The Princess Athura: A Romance of Iran by Samuel W. Odell - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXI
 KING OF KINGS

THAT evening the Prince, accompanied by Athura, ascended the narrow stairs leading to the flat top of the castle-tower and, seated on the low parapet that surrounded it, watched the sun set in golden splendor. They found an altar of heavy stones, rudely squared, in the center of the roof. It bore marks of long usage. But the fire which had blazed on it for years was dead. Only ashes remained.

The evening was pleasant. The sky was a deep, blue dome. The wide plain to the south, surrounded on all sides by hills, the high mountains to the north and east, with their sharp crags and peaks, with Elwend and her snow in the east and Demavend far to the northeast, a diamond point of eternal white, were of entrancing beauty. The Prince for a time forgot battles and marches. Athura forgot the long years of waiting and watching. They were lovers now, rank and royalty forgotten, man and maid, each glorified by the other’s love. The sun stood still in the heavens and the hills rolled up and concealed him. Darkness enveloped them, and they were oblivious of all else than themselves. The stars appeared, brilliant points in the depths of space. The moon rose and drove the shadows from the hilltops into the depths of canyon and gulch. A great owl winged his way slowly about the tower and, alighting on the altar, peered at them suspiciously. When they moved he flapped away into the shadows of the hills. Bats flitted hither and thither like restless spirits. A wolf howled in the distant mountains. The low hum of conversation came up from the soldiers gathered about camp-fires in the courtyard. In such surroundings, the royal lovers again took up and tied the broken threads of life and renewed their vows to each other.

Morning brought with it activity. The castle was abandoned. The army marched to Hamadan. A special guard of gayly-caparisoned officers rode near the litter in which the Princess was borne, or followed the horse on which, at times, she chose to ride by the side of the Prince. There was no organized opposition to the march. Bands of soldiers, which were riding to the aid of the false King, returned to their homes, stunned by the sudden overthrow of their leader. Gaumata’s head was borne aloft on a pike-staff; and, in every hamlet and village, a crier called the people together and told them of the false King’s deception and death.

So it came about that the cavalry under the Prince and the infantry under the King of Iran came together near Hamadan, entered the city without encountering resistance, and relieved Captains Arios and Mardux, not only of their danger but also of their soft living in the palace of the Great King. But in appreciation of their valiant service, they were promoted to higher grades in the Imperial Guard and later they became chief officers of the Guard.

On the day that they entered Hamadan, Athura became the wife of the Prince of Iran. The marriage feast was held in the palace. After the feast, the great nobles of Iran were called into the throne room by King Hystaspis, who, sitting on the throne in state, addressed them thus:

“Nobles of the Aryan race, I have called you hither to ask what is your will concerning the throne left by Cyrus and Cambyses. By right of birth, I, the head of the Achæmenian family, am entitled to reign in Iran. I am King of Iran. But while Iran rules the world, the victories of Cyrus established such rule and his authority was paramount to mine. I am old and desire to live the few years that may be mine in ease. I desire not to assume the burden that must be borne by the King of Kings. For I foresee that some of the conquered provinces will rebel and that wars will come. The line of Cyrus is dead, all save the Princess who this day has become the wife of my son. It is my command that all here speak freely.”

Otanes stepped forth and looked about him a moment in silence. Then his eyes rested upon the Prince of Iran and his beautiful bride, who sat at the right hand of King Hystaspis. He bowed low before them.

“There can be but one choice, O King,” he said gravely. “The royal power has ever been in the Achæmenian family. As long as there are men of that royal line, none others may dare to aspire to the throne. If you, Sire, refuse to reign, there stands the well-beloved Prince, your son, whose wisdom and valor are far beyond his years, whose name is on every soldier’s tongue, as the hero of his race! By him stands Athura, most beautiful, most royal in birth. Has not your family and the family of Cyrus united? Let Darius Hystaspis be King of Kings and Athura, the daughter of Cyrus, be his Queen! Thus will all the peoples be contented and the world be blest. What say you, nobles of Iran?”

A roar of assent was the response.

“Let the crown of Cyrus be brought hither!” commanded the King.

A double crown, one part of which was silver and the other of gold, studded with gems, was brought forth. The King gravely rose from his throne and, addressing his son, said:

“You have heard the choice of the nobles of Iran, my beloved son! In the presence of these men, I now renounce in your behalf the supreme rule of the world. Here and now I crown you King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Rule wisely and well. As King of Iran, I acknowledge you supreme Lord and will support your throne forever!”

The Prince, much affected, knelt at his father’s feet and received upon his head the double crown, which the great Cyrus had made as a symbol of his everlasting dominion over the kings of the world. Then he rose and sat down upon the throne, with Athura at his right hand and his father at his left. The great lords of Persia came and did obeisance to him and bent their right knees before him. Thus Darius Hystaspis became the Great King, and proved to be the wisest and greatest of them all. For, to the military ability of the heroic Cyrus, he added the wisdom of a statesman, the greatest of his age; and, in addition, he was a lover of art and science.

On the following day, at noon, in response to the call of public criers, a vast concourse of people gathered in and around the public square or market-place in Hamadan. Soldiers of the Persian army were massed at one side. The nobility, men of note and strangers, were massed on the other. In the midst, the public criers’ tower arose forty feet in air, and from it, the people understood, announcement would be made concerning the accession of Darius Hystaspis to the throne as King of Kings.

The people were restive. A bitter factional feeling had arisen during the reign of the false Bardya. The followers of the Magi, being in favor, had lorded it over the more orthodox Medes and Persians, had even prohibited their worship, and had taken away from their priests the revenues on which they lived. When Gaumata fell and the Persian army entered the capital, the persecuted ones in turn had come forth and assumed a haughty spirit towards the Magians. In all parts of Medea, as well as in the capital city, was the same unrest. Men hated their neighbors on account of religion, the most deadly hatred that men may entertain, and were ready to slay each other. It needed only the excitement of a great gathering to set afire the smoldering embers of hate. The eyes of all turned often to the gruesome spectacle of an earless head on the top of a pole planted near the tower in such position that the populace could see it. A squad of soldiers guarded it from being overthrown by the pressure of the crowd. It was the distorted and blackened face of Gaumata.

At noon there issued from the palace a company consisting of the Great King, his Queen, his father, and the nobles of Iran, and they rode between massed lines of soldiers to a position near the tower. They were received with loud acclaim and clashing of weapons. A trumpet pealed forth from the tower, and a deep silence fell upon the people. Then Prexaspes appeared, accompanied by Gobryas and two armed guards.

Prexaspes was carefully dressed. His hair and whiskers were curled and perfumed. His rich Medean cloak was gracefully parted so as to display to advantage his jeweled vestments. He was at once recognized, and a subdued murmur of wonder passed through the crowd. He raised his hand in graceful gesture, and said in a loud voice:

“Behold me, Prexaspes, most unhappy of men! I am about to die and let my death, suffered righteously, attest the truth of my words!”

He paused a moment, to let his hearers grasp his meaning. Then he told the story of the plots by which the Magi had influenced Cambyses to order the death of Bardya and how he himself had slain the Prince with their aid; how they had then conspired against Cambyses and caused his overthrow and death; how they had set up Gaumata, the earless one, to be King, falsely representing him to be Bardya, and had placed the Magian on the throne of the world; and, finally, how the false King had been overthrown.

For the first time the populace knew that the Magi had slain Bardya and that a pretender had through their plots usurped the royal power. Every man looked at his fellow and laid his hand on the dagger at his belt. Hatred, fanned by the speaker’s revelations, blazed up; and a growl of anger passed throughout the vast crowd. Prexaspes ceased at last and for a moment stood in silence. Then he added:

“I have told you all! There, on yonder pole, is the head of false Gaumata! My hand is red with the blood of an Achæmenian Prince, and by the law I must die! By the grace of the mighty King of Kings, Darius, son of Hystaspis, who is this day your King, I die as I choose. I salute you, O King! May you live forever!”

He bowed towards the King, who sat still on his horse, sorrowfully contemplating the speaker. Then Prexaspes calmly opened his cloak and drew a long, keen dagger from his belt. He poised the dagger in air an instant, then drove it to the hilt in his breast. For a moment he stood smiling down upon the King, then his knees gave away and he fell, headlong, from the tower to the foot of the pole on which the hideous head of Gaumata leered. A murmur of horror ran through the vast throng. It increased in volume as the people spoke to each other. It rose to a vast roar in a moment and its burden was: “The Magi! They slew Bardya! Down with the Magi! Slay the Magi!”

There was a movement in the great throng. Here and there daggers and swords flashed. Screams of agony arose. The crowd swayed hither and thither. Then it scattered, and broke into groups under self-elected leaders who chased the frightened Magi and slew them wherever found. A riot of bloodshed and slaughter ran throughout the country such as Medea had not seen since that day, hundreds of years ago, when the Scythians had been massacred. Every man who had a Magian neighbor assaulted him. The house of every Magian priest was broken open and pillaged and its occupants slain or chased into the hills. It is said that a hundred thousand Magians died, before the King, with the aid of unwilling Persian soldiers, succeeded in stopping the slaughter. So deep-seated was the hatred of the orthodox Aryans towards the Magians that on the anniversary of this day hereafter it was the practice to slay every one of that sect that was found on the highway. The King made a decree that on such anniversary no Magian should leave his house and that if he did so and was killed, his slayer would not be punished.

But the remainder of our story is history. The kingdom of the Medes and Persians, or rather, the Kingdom of Iran, the rule of the Aryans, reached its zenith of power and glory under Darius Hystaspis, called Darius the Great. Well did he deserve the title “Great.” For he made laws for all the world save Greece and Rome. His coinage became the world standard. The provinces of his empire were ruled by kings. His public roads and rapid messenger service enabled him personally to supervise the general welfare of all his provinces. He invited men of letters to his court. He engraved his history on tablets and on the great rocks at Behistun and Persepolis. He brought architects and builders from Egypt, Palestine, and Phœnicia, and made for himself and his Queen a palace at Persepolis, whose stately ruins are yet mute witnesses of his power and magnificence. He had to reconquer many of the nations of Asia, which, because he was a young man and because religious feuds had torn Iran into factions, thought to free themselves. He redeemed his promise to Belteshazzer, the great Daniel of the Hebrew scriptures, and caused Jerusalem to be rebuilt, and he restored the Jews to their country. He restored the ancient religion of the Aryans and banished the false religion of the Magi, the Lie, from his empire. He worshiped God, whether named Jehovah by the Jew or Ahura-Mazda by his own people. His religion was pure and lofty.

But most of all did he love and honor his Queen, Athura, whose praises the world sang in those days, and whose fame has been preserved in various narratives, none of which agree except that all ascribe to her great wisdom and beauty. Together they ruled their empire many years, and their reign was the golden age of the Aryan race.

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