THE wounded King was tenderly borne to his pavilion in the camp, and his injury was dressed by the most skillful surgeons in the army. He was weakened by loss of blood, however, and suffered much pain. He became feverish. The surgeons had but little skill in those days; and the wound was deep and infected. He suffered the pain with heroic resignation and, after a while, fell into a restless sleep, in which he tossed about and muttered continually.
Meanwhile the King of Iran, having taken chief command, pushed the victory to completion and recalled the troops to their camp from the bloody plain only when the last enemy had disappeared or died.
Prince Darius and the Imperial Guard pursued the fugitives as long as they held together in a body, but when they scattered, some crossing the Jaxartes and others taking refuge in the southern hills where it was difficult to follow them with heavy horse, he left further pursuit to the light-armed cavalry and returned to camp with his shouting, singing troopers. He did not learn of the King’s condition until within bowshot of camp, where an orderly from his father met him bearing the sad news. At once the shouts and songs of his troopers were turned to sighs and tears. They entered the camp in silence. They were dusty, blood-stained, and weary, and their joy of victory had given place to dejection. The Great King’s headquarters were in the midst of the camp. The Prince caused his battalions to form around the pavilion in a square, with their faces toward it. Then, leaving them still mounted, he went in to inquire concerning the King’s condition.
It was almost sundown. The herons, which had fled away in the morning, were now returning with heavy wings to the marshes along the river. They did not alight, however, but hurriedly flapped away when they found the marshes filled with the dead bodies of men and horses.
The Prince found the chief captains of the army assembled in the outer room of the pavilion. His father was wearily reclining on a couch, while the others stood near in whispering groups; but he rose as the Prince entered, and embraced him and kissed his cheeks, exclaiming:
“My son, to the Guard belongs much of the glory of our great victory. Never have I seen a movement so well made or a blow struck at more opportune time. But alas for the Great King! He is sorely wounded and has a fever. He is now sleeping, but he mutters and tosses in his sleep.”
“May we go in and see him? The Guard waits anxiously to hear his condition,” inquired the Prince.
The King of Iran called the chief surgeon out of the inner room where the wounded monarch lay and, after a whispered consultation with him, bade his son follow and went into the inner room with him. The stricken man lay on a silk-covered couch, apparently asleep, while an attendant waved a fan above his head. Aroused by their entrance, the Great King opened his eyes, half-raised himself upon his elbow, and stared wildly at them. The surgeon gently sought to repress his movements. He quickly recognized the King of Iran and the Prince and smiled as he sank back upon the couch.
The surgeon bowed low before him and exclaimed: “Let not my lord move! It may open the wound and cause it to bleed afresh!”
But Cyrus impatiently waved him aside, and said weakly: “Let be! If I am to die, I die; if I am to live, I will live! I have had a vision! Draw near, my good cousin and my beloved Prince! Is the victory complete? Did many escape?”
The King of Iran answered: “It is your most glorious victory, O King of Kings! Hundreds of thousands of dead Touranians testify to the valor of your arms and the effectiveness of your battle-plans.”
“It is well!” he sighed. “To you, my beloved Prince, is due the thanks of your King, of the army, of all Iran! Oh, my heart leaped when I saw the Guard with spears at rest ride down upon the enemy! It was then that I rushed into the battle. Now I lie here! So be it! I know that I am about to die. I have had a vision. Now I would see the sun set, lest I never see it again. Cause the curtains to be rolled up. This close air stifles me!”
Servants quickly rolled up the heavy side-curtains of the pavilion. At a motion of the sufferer the Prince knelt by his side, placed an arm beneath his shoulders, and gently raised him. Instantly the Guards, standing at attention about the tent, uncovered their heads, bowed to their horses’ necks, and roared out a salute, while tears streamed down their grimy cheeks and many wept aloud. The men of Iran were emotional, weeping or laughing like children as the mood seized them. The Great King smiled upon them and feebly waved his hand in greeting. He whispered to the Prince:
“How they love me! It is sweet to die surrounded by those who love you. Ah, if I might now have my children here! I would give them a parting blessing and die in peace. My sweet daughters, Athura, the wise, and Artistone, my babe! Bardya, my strong Prince, and Cambyses,— But, lay me down! The sun is setting! So sets my life!”
“Say not so, my lord!” exclaimed the Prince, his eyes swimming in tears. “It has been a glorious day!”
“True, my son! And the wrongs of Iran have been avenged. A nation of warriors has been wiped out. No more will the Tourans threaten my people. We shall make this river the boundary of our empire. Fortresses and cities must be built along it so that never again may the yellow men of the plains carry desolation south of it. Advise my sons to this policy. Nay, tell them I have ordered it so!”
The Great King closed his eyes. The tent-sides were then dropped. The troopers dismounted and went into camp, satisfied to have seen the King alive, and praying to Ahura-Mazda, Giver of Life, that he might recover. The King of Iran, with uncovered head, stood for a while looking down upon the sufferer, while his son still knelt at the side of the couch. Presently Cyrus opened his eyes and looked intently upon the sad countenance of the Prince.
“Would that you were my own son, Darius Hystaspis!” he exclaimed. “I love you well and I know that you have deserved well of me. Ask of me what you will. It shall be decreed ere I die!”
The Prince bowed his head till his forehead touched the King’s hands, which nervously clasped his own strong right hand between their palms. Then he looked up into the grave eyes of his father inquiringly. The latter indicated by a nod that he should speak what was in his mind.
“O King of Kings,” he said, “you have been as a father to me! If I have found favor with you, let my reward be very great! I ask no less than that you will give me for my wife your daughter, Athura!”
Cyrus was greatly pleased. He smiled approvingly as he answered: “Truly you ask much! But not too much; and you shall have her, if she so wills. I doubt not that she will gladly consent. She must marry whom she will. Her mother married me even against her father’s will and she was ever the light and joy of life to me. In her love I rejoiced all the days of her life. I have given her no successor. I go to meet her soon. I rejoice to call you son. Would that Athura were here to wed you now! I pledge her to you. Now I have a request to make of you, and your royal father. I constituted my son, Cambyses, regent in my absence, that he might learn to rule. My soul is exceedingly anxious concerning him. His passions are great; he is violent and he endures no opposition to his will. He will need advisers and supporters. My son, Bardya, is of better nature; he is brave but impulsive. Much have I thought of them. It will depend upon you two, King and Prince of Iran, whether the family of Cyrus shall continue to reign. This I have seen. I ask of you that you will pledge me your royal oaths that, as long as Cambyses or Bardya live, you will support them on my throne—Cambyses first, and Bardya second.”
He ceased. The Prince again looked up to his father, who had listened attentively and who now spoke without hesitation: “My son, we are Kings of Iran only. Cyrus, our cousin, is King of Kings. By his own genius he has made this great empire. It is his. He conquered it. He extended his scepter over other peoples. We forfeit none of our hereditary rights by swearing as he requests. As for me, I am ready to swear!”
“And I also!” added the Prince.
The Great King extended his two hands and took the right hands of father and son between his palms, saying, “Is it an oath in the hearing of Ahura-Mazda and His recording angel?”
“It is an oath!” they solemnly answered.
“It is well,” said the King, releasing them. “May Shraosha, the swift messenger of God, take those oaths and register them in heaven! Now I will tell of my vision. I saw Mount Demavend, and, upon its snowy summit, I beheld a great eagle. He spread his wings and, behold! they reached across all the heavens and their shadow covered the earth. The countenance of the eagle, Prince Darius, when I closely observed it, was your countenance. Shall it come to pass that you will overshadow the world? Or will you spread your protecting wings in days to come over this empire and by your help shall my sons reign well? Ahura-Mazda knows! Let his will be done!”
The King’s weak voice ceased. He closed his eyes. The Prince and his father remained silent. A rising wind touched the tent and made it quiver. In the adjacent room was a low murmur of conversation. After a moment’s silence the Great King again opened his eyes and continued:
“Since this empire of mine is new and my will has been its law, there are no laws by which succession to my throne may be regulated. By right of birth, Cambyses should succeed to the supreme power. Yet I am not happy in him. He is inclined to evil ways and regards not the customs of our race. He runs after the folly of the Medes. He seeks the pleasures of Babylon. I have thought much on this. Perhaps it would be just that he should be given Medea, Susiana, Babylonia, and all the western provinces to rule, since their customs he follows. Bardya is not so. He loves our ancient customs. To him I will give supreme rule over Iran and the provinces of Hind, of Hyrcania, and the Scyths and of all our eastern conquests; but he shall acknowledge Cambyses as overlord of the world, aiding him with an army in war, but undisturbed by him in peace. Thus will I do justly and satisfy all Iran, whose people love not Cambyses. I will make a testament and a decree ere I die. Call hither my scribe. I would relieve my mind of care by making such decree. Call in the nobles of Iran to hear my will!”
The scribe came. The nobles of Iran entered the room. They saw the King’s will written down on Egyptian papyrus. Two copies were made. The King signed them and impressed thereon his seal. Then, greatly exhausted, he indicated that he would be alone; and all left his presence to seek refreshment after the day of toil, and to discuss the Great King’s last decree.
It was the duty of the Prince, as commander of the Imperial Guard, to appoint the watches at the King’s pavilion. Otanes, the King’s shield-bearer and personal guard, slept in the outer room and stood at the door on state occasions. There were usually with Otanes several noble youths who acted as pages or orderlies to the Great King. But on this night the King of Iran and several others of the nobility kept silent watch in the outer room, anxiously consulting the surgeons as they went in and out upon their ministrations. The Prince, after setting a double guard around the pavilion, went alone down to the river and for an hour slowly paced back and forth on the low bank along the shore. He wished to be alone with his thoughts.
A violent wind was blowing from the north. The lap and wash of waves, thrown up by its power, and the rustle of reeds and grass, were the only sounds coming to his ears. The subdued noise of the vast encampment drifted away behind him as he looked out across the stream. The moon had not yet appeared. The stars were dim and hazy behind dust-clouds raised by the great wind. Alone thus, though thousands of men were near, while the whispers of the moving air suggested the voices of those wailing spirits released from their mortal bodies in this day’s slaughter, the young man reviewed the past and contemplated uneasily the future.
First in his thoughts, as indeed she had been for years, was Athura, eldest daughter of Cyrus, known to the Greek historians as Atossa, the most famous, most beautiful, and most queenlike woman of her age. He had loved her from the day when he, a youth of fourteen, and she, a child of ten years, had first met and played together in the great park surrounding his father’s palace at Persepolis, where she had come to visit with her mother, the queen. She had often been his companion in sports since the time he had entered the service of the Great King, as a page. Lately he had not seen her often, as his service in the Imperial Guard had called him away to the wars. But, when he had last met her in the ancient city, Bactra, to which place she had accompanied her father when he started on this expedition, they had made mutual avowals of love and pledges of faith, subject to her father’s consent. Now the expedition was ended. He had the consent of Cyrus to their marriage. Happiness seemed to be in store for him.
But the future was not without clouds. Cyrus was dying. What then? The hate-filled countenance of Cambyses arose before his mind. The large, square body of that Prince, the bullet head, the black, dull eye, the fat face, usually expressive of scorn, he well remembered. He seemed to hear again the brutal laugh, the bitter gibe or threat, the coarse words, and the raucous tones of the Prince, as he had heard them often when as boys they played together. Cambyses had hated him, apparently for no other reason than that he could not bully him as he was accustomed to bully other boys. More than once they had engaged in personal encounters; and the officers, who ever guarded the King’s children, had to interfere and separate them. Some of these combats had arisen when he had gone to rescue Athura or Bardya from their brother’s abuse. Cambyses also hated Bardya, whom Cyrus loved. More than once Cyrus himself had inflicted corporal punishment upon the elder Prince for abusing his playmates, and in later years he had often caused him to be confined in his room as a punishment. If Cyrus should die, the violent, degraded, drunken Cambyses would be King, with power absolute of life and death, and able to wreak vengeance upon the royal brother and sisters, as he had often sworn he would do, when he should come into power.
Prince Darius did not fear Cambyses. But if Cambyses should disregard his father’s will and forbid the marriage of Darius and Athura, what would be the result? The Prince involuntarily laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. Cambyses could be overthrown, since the people and the army of Iran loved him not; and the younger Prince Bardya would then reign. Bardya was a friend of Darius and would approve the marriage. But to the Prince came the remembrance of his oath to Cyrus. He had sworn to uphold Cambyses. No matter what the Prince should do or what wrong he should inflict upon him or his friends, he must henceforth support him on his throne! As the possibilities involved in that oath occurred to his mind, the young man smote his hands together and groaned. But he said to himself that perhaps Cambyses, the King, would be different from Cambyses, the man. In any event, the nobles of Iran and the King, his father, would compel Cambyses to give Athura to him. Cambyses would not dare refuse to regard his own father’s pledge.
The moon appeared, a dim, pale disk behind a veil of flying dust. The wind increased in violence. Thin, broken clouds floated across the sky. The river, vaguely seen, was filled with choppy waves. The howl of a wolf came faintly from beyond the stream. A great sadness, a sense of impending danger, filled the soul of the Prince.
A voice aroused him, saying, “Gracious Prince, the King has awakened and is calling for you!” It was one of the King’s pages who thus summoned him. Throwing off his depression, he followed the youth into the tent, pausing only at the door to direct the guards to take additional precautions to prevent the wind from throwing down the swaying shelter. The King turned a wan, pain-drawn countenance towards him as he entered and beckoned him to a low stool at the side of his couch.
“My son,” he said, speaking slowly and with difficulty, “I am unable to sleep. This wound pains me greatly and the wind roars about the tent. I am very lonely. I seem to stand naked and alone before God! I am about to step out into the dark. I would have you near me. You have been with me so many years that you are to me as a son. Now that I have promised my daughter to you, I have a double claim upon you. Sit here, unless you are weary and must sleep. It has been a long, hard day, but a glorious one for Iran!”
“Father, I am not weary,” replied the Prince. “My heart is heavy for you! I pray God you may recover! Is the wound so bad, then? Once before you were hurt in battle and recovered.”
“This wound is fatal. It is poisoned. The weapon that pierced me was unclean. Even now I feel it throb and burn. I know the symptoms. I have watched many a dying officer, wounded by unclean darts. But I am at peace. I have been a man of war all my life; but I have ever had right with me. I have lived uprightly and wronged none. Justice has never been sold by me. Oppression has been rebuked. I have crushed the rulers of nations to free their people from tyranny and misrule. I do not fear to die. I am an Aryan. Ahura-Mazda is God and there is none other! My mind dwells much on the future, my son. Discourse to me of that. You sat at the feet of Belteshazzer, the wise, he that was chief of the college of wisdom in Babylon. He talked to me often of God and of his own people. I made a decree that his people should be returned to their home at Jerusalem and rebuild their temple to God. Call this to my son’s remembrance, when you go to him, and say to him that I lay it upon him to obey. What said Belteshazzer of that which lies beyond death?”
“He taught that the spirit continues to live after the body dies.”
“Yes, truly, so said he to me! But in that he agrees with our Zoroaster.”
“He taught much as did the great Master. Indeed, he agrees that Ahura-Mazda, the Holy One, the Father of Truth, the Life-Giving Spirit, is but another name for the same God he worships as Jah, who is the Father of all spirits and the Giver of Life. He teaches that there is one God, a loving Father, the Eternal One; and that in the far-distant past there were but one man and one woman, from whom sprang all the races of men; and that all worshiped one God, the Father of all; but that many of their children have forgotten Him and have wandered away, making Gods of their own imaginings. He is a mighty prophet and holds communion with messengers from God and with spirits.”
“I have heard wonderful things of him, how that fire will not burn him nor wild beasts harm him. What says Zoroaster of the dying?”
“He taught that Shraosha, the swift messenger, stands ready to receive the soul and to conduct it over the bridge that is straight and narrow into paradise, where the great angel, Bohman, will greet it and say, ‘How happy art thou who hast come hither from mortality to immortality!’ Then will the soul enter upon eternal blessedness.”
“You said that Belteshazzer talks with unseen spirits and is a mighty prophet. Do not the Magi also call up the dead and prophesy?”
“They say so, Sire. But Belteshazzer says that they are liars and that their art is black. He admits that they may talk with spirits, but accuses them of dealing with demons and evil spirits. They worship the spirits who inhabit the dark places of earth and work ill to men.”
The Great King lay silent a moment with closed eyes. At length, heaving a deep sigh, he said:
“It is all a mystery! But I shall soon know. I am troubled concerning Cambyses. I have heard that he has dealings with the Magi and has attended their worship. God forbid that he should fall into their hands! They are a vile sect, regarding neither oath nor promise. They prey upon the weak and superstitious. They would throw down our ancient laws. I have not been intolerant of others’ creeds or ever interfered with their religion. Each nation has continued to worship God in its own manner, giving obedience to me only in matters of government. Can it be said that one God is better than the other? How was I to judge the unknown things of God? But I know that God rules, whether named Ahura-Mazda, Jah, Merodach, Jove, or Ra. Men know him not!”
Again he fell silent, with closed eyes and pallid face turned to the dim light of the lamps which hung from the ridge-pole by chains, flaring in the currents of air and swinging to and fro as the tent rocked under the shocks of the mighty wind.
Rousing himself again, he continued: “I feel that my spirit will soon depart. When it does, I lay upon you the task of conveying my body to Pasargadæ, where you shall deposit it in a suitable tomb. Take half of the Guard with you. Leave the remainder here with the King, your father, who must finish the work I have begun and establish fortresses along this river so that never again may the Touranians recover the land we have conquered, or further molest Iran. Let my body be entombed after the fashion of our fathers. Take a message to Bardya and say that I have blessed him. Restrain him with your advice, that he do not rebel and bring on war with his brother. Take my love and blessing to Athura and Artistone. Into your care I give Athura. May long years of happiness be yours! But I am very weary and I would sleep. Sit here by me. It is pleasant to know that you are near!”
The King closed his eyes and sank into a stupor. The Prince bent his head upon his hands and silently wept. Presently becoming calmer, he sat still in meditation, listening to the irregular breathing of the sufferer. After a while he also slept, with his head resting on his arms, which were folded across his knees. The hours went by, while the great wind continued to bellow around and to whip the awnings of the pavilion and while the life of the Great King slowly flickered out. Darius was awakened by the surgeons, who, alarmed at the long silence in the sick-room, had come in to look at the King.
“Great Cyrus is dead!” he heard one of them say.