An Egyptian Princess — Complete, Georg Ebers [best ereader for academics txt] 📗

shouts of the crowd, begged him to escort the stranger to the palace.

During this colloquy the traveller had mounted his servant’s horse, and now followed in the wake of the Persians.

The good news flew like wind through the huge city. As the riders proceeded, the crowd fell back more willingly, and loader and fuller grew the shouts of joy until at last their march was like a triumphal procession.

In a few minutes they drew up before the palace; but before the brazen gates had opened to admit them, another train came slowly into sight. At the head rode a grey-headed old man; his robes were brown, and rent, in token of mourning, the mane and tail of his horse had been shorn off and the creature colored blue.—It was Hystaspes, coming to entreat mercy for his son.

The whip-bearer, delighted at this sight, threw himself down before the old man with a cry of joy, and with crossed arms told him what confidence the traveller had inspired him with.

Hystaspes beckoned to the stranger; he rode up, bowed gracefully and courteously to the old man, without dismounting, and confirmed the words of the whip bearer. Hystaspes seemed to feel fresh confidence too after hearing the stranger, for he begged him to follow him into the palace and to wait outside the door of the royal apartment, while he himself, conducted by the head chamberlain, went in to the king.

When his old kinsman entered, Cambyses was lying on his purple couch, pale as death. A cup-bearer was kneeling on the ground at his feet, trying to collect the broken fragments of a costly Egyptian drinking-cup which the king had thrown down impatiently because its contents had not pleased his taste. At some distance stood a circle of court-officials, in whose faces it was easy to read that they were afraid of their ruler’s wrath, and preferred keeping as far from him as possible. The dazzling light and oppressive heat of a Babylonian May day came in through the open windows, and not a sound was to be heard in the great room, except the whining of a large dog of the Epirote breed, which had just received a tremendous kick from Cambyses for venturing to fawn on his master, and was the only being that ventured to disturb the solemn stillness. Just before Hystaspes was led in by the chamberlain, Cambyses had sprung up from his couch. This idle repose had become unendurable, he felt suffocated with pain and anger. The dog’s howl suggested a new idea to his poor tortured brain, thirsting for forgetfulness.

“We will go out hunting!” he shouted to the poor startled courtiers. The master of the hounds, the equerries, and huntsmen hastened to obey his orders. He called after them, “I shall ride the unbroken horse Reksch; get the falcons ready, let all the dogs out and order every one to come, who can throw a spear. We’ll clear the preserves!”

He then threw himself down on his divan again, as if these words had quite exhausted his powerful frame, and did not see that Hystaspes had entered, for his sullen gaze was fixed on the motes playing in the sunbeams that glanced through the window.

Hystaspes did not dare to address him; but he stationed himself in the window so as to break the stream of motes and thus draw attention to himself.

At first Cambyses looked angrily at him and his rent garments, and then asked with a bitter smile; “What do you want?”

“Victory to the king! Your poor servant and uncle has come to entreat his ruler’s mercy.”

“Then rise and go! You know that I have no mercy for perjurers and false swearers. ‘Tis better to have a dead son than a dishonorable one.”

“But if Bartja should not be guilty, and Darius...”

“You dare to question the justice of my sentence?”

“That be far from me. Whatever the king does is good, and cannot be gainsaid; but still...”

“Be silent! I will not hear the subject mentioned again. You are to be pitied as a father; but have these last few hours brought me any joy? Old man, I grieve for you, but I have as little power to rescind his punishment as you to recall his crime.”

“But if Bartja really should not be guilty—if the gods...”

“Do you think the gods will come to the help of perjurers and deceivers?”

“No, my King; but a fresh witness has appeared.”

“A fresh witness? Verily, I would gladly give half my kingdom, to be convinced of the innocence of men so nearly related to me.”

“Victory to my lord, the eye of the realm! A Greek is waiting outside, who seems, to judge by his figure and bearing, one of the noblest of his race.”

The king laughed bitterly: “A Greek! Ah, ha! perhaps some relation to Bartja’s faithful fair one! What can this stranger know of my family affairs? I know these beggarly Ionians well. They are impudent enough to meddle in everything, and think they can cheat us with their sly tricks. How much have you had to pay for this new witness, uncle? A Greek is as ready with a lie as a Magian with his spells, and I know they’ll do anything for gold. I’m really curious to see your witness. Call him in. But if he wants to deceive me, he had better remember that where the head of a son of Cyrus is about to fall, a Greek head has but very little chance.” And the king’s eyes flashed with anger as he said these words. Hystaspes, however, sent for the Greek.

Before he entered, the chamberlains fastened the usual cloth before his mouth, and commanded him to cast himself on the ground before the king. The Greek’s bearing, as he approached, under the king’s penetrating glance, was calm and noble; he fell on his face, and, according to the Persian custom, kissed the ground.

His agreeable and handsome appearance, and the calm and modest manner in which he bore the king’s gaze, seemed to make a favorable impression on the latter; he did not allow him to remain long on the earth, and asked him in a by no means unfriendly tone: “Who are you?”

“I am a Greek nobleman. My name is Phanes, and Athens is my home. I have served ten years as commander of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, and not ingloriously.”

“Are you the man, to whose clever generalship the Egyptians were indebted for their victories in Cyprus?”

“I am.”

“What has brought you to Persia?”

“The glory of your name, Cambyses, and the wish to devote my arms and experience to your service.”

“Nothing else? Be sincere, and remember that one single lie may cost your life. We Persians have different ideas of truth from the Greeks.”

“Lying is hateful to me too, if only, because, as a distortion and corruption of what is noblest, it seems unsightly in my eyes.”

“Then speak.”

“There was certainly