almost without being asked, praised him so warmly?
It is well that he is going, thought the king; at least he shall not rob me of her love. If he were not my brother I would send him to a place from whence none can return.
After midnight he broke up the banquet. Boges appeared to conduct him to the Harem, which he was accustomed to visit at this hour, when sufficiently sober.
“Phaedime awaits you with impatience,” said the eunuch.
“Let her wait!” was the king’s answer. “Have you given orders that the palace on the hanging-gardens shall be set in order?”
“It will be ready for occupation to-morrow.”
“What apartments have been assigned to the Egyptian Princess?”
“Those formerly occupied by the second wife of your father Cyrus, the deceased Amytis.”
“That is well. Nitetis is to be treated with the greatest respect, and to receive no commands even from yourself, but such as I give you for her.”
Boges bowed low.
“See that no one, not even Croesus, has admission to her before my.... before I give further orders.”
“Croesus was with her this evening.”
“What may have been his business with my wife?”
“I do not know, for I do not understand the Greek language, but I heard the name of Bartja several times, and it seemed to me that the Egyptian had received sorrowful intelligence. She was looking very sad when I came, after Croesus had left, to inquire if she had any commands for me.”
“May Ahriman blast thy tongue,” muttered the king, and then turning his back on the eunuch he followed the torch-bearers and attendants, who were in waiting to disrobe him, to his own private apartments.
At noon on the following clay, Bartja, accompanied by his friends and a troop of attendants, started on horseback for the frontier. Croesus went with the young warriors as far as the city gates, and as their last farewells and embraces were being exchanged, Bartja whispered to his old friend: “If the messenger from Egypt should have a letter for me in his bag, will you send it on?”
“Shall you be able to decipher the Greek writing?”
“Gyges and love will help me!”
“When I told Nitetis of your departure she begged me to wish you farewell, and tell you not to forget Egypt.”
“I am not likely to do that.”
“The gods take thee into their care, my son. Be prudent, do not risk your life heedlessly, but remember that it is no longer only your own. Exercise the gentleness of a father towards the rebels; they did not rise in mere self-will, but to gain their freedom, the most precious possession of mankind. Remember, too, that to shew mercy is better than to shed blood; the sword killeth, but the favor of the ruler bringeth joy and happiness. Conclude the war as speedily as possible, for war is a perversion of nature; in peace the sons outlive the fathers, but in war the fathers live to mourn for their slain sons. Farewell, my young heroes, go forward and conquer!”
CHAPTER XIII.
Cambyses passed a sleepless night. The feeling of jealousy, so totally new to him, increased his desire to possess Nitetis, but he dared not take her as his wife yet, as the Persian law forbade the king to marry a foreign wife, until she had become familiar with the customs of Iran and confessed herself a disciple of Zoroaster.
[Zoroaster, really Zarathustra or Zerethoschtro, was one of the
`greatest among founders of new religions and lawgivers. His name
signified “golden star” according to Anquetil du Perron. But this
interpretation is as doubtful, as the many others which have been
attempted. An appropriate one is given in the essay by Kern quoted
below, from zara golden, and thwistra glittering; thus “the gold
glittering one.” It is uncertain whether he was born in Bactria,
Media or Persia, Anquetil thinks in Urmi, a town in Aderbaijan. His
father’s name was Porosehasp, his mother’s Dogdo, and his family
boasted of royal descent. The time of his birth is very,—Spiegel
says “hopelessly”—dark. Anquetil, and many other scholars would
place it in the reign of Darius, a view which has been proved to be
incorrect by Spiegel, Duncker and v. Schack in his introduction.]
According to this law a whole year must pass before Nitetis could become the wife of a Persian monarch? but what was the law to Cambyses? In his eyes the law was embodied in his own person, and in his opinion three months would be amply sufficient to initiate Nitetis in the Magian mysteries, after which process she could become his bride.
To-day his other wives seemed hateful, even loathsome, to him. From Cambyses’ earliest youth his house had been carefully provided with women. Beautiful girls from all parts of Asia, black-eyed Armenians, dazzlingly fair maidens from the Caucasus, delicate girls from the shores of the Ganges, luxurious Babylonian women, golden-haired Persians and the effeminate daughters of the Median plains; indeed many of the noblest Achaemenidae had given him their daughters in marriage.
Phaedime, the daughter of Otanes, and niece of his own mother Kassandane, had been Cambyses’ favorite wife hitherto, or at least the only one of whom it could be said that she was more to him than a purchased slave would have been. But even she, in his present sated and disgusted state of feeling, seemed vulgar and contemptible, especially when he thought of Nitetis.
The Egyptian seemed formed of nobler, better stuff than they all. They were flattering, coaxing girls; Nitetis was a queen. They humbled themselves in the dust at his feet; but when he thought of Nitetis, he beheld her erect, standing before him, on the same proud level as himself. He determined that from henceforth she should not only occupy Phaedime’s place, but should be to him what Kassandane had been to his father Cyrus.
She was the only one of his wives who could assist him by her knowledge and advice; the others were all like children, ignorant, and caring for nothing but dress and finery: living only for petty intrigues and useless trifles. This Egyptian girl would be obliged to love him, for he would be her protector, her lord, her father and brother in this foreign land.
“She must,” he said to himself, and to this despot to wish for a thing and to possess it seemed one and the same. “Bartja had better take care,” he murmured, “or he shall know what fate awaits the man who dares to cross my path.”
Nitetis too had passed a restless night.
The common apartment of the women was next to her own, and the noise and singing there had not ceased until nearly midnight. She could often distinguish the shrill
