Georg Ebers - Ultimate Collection: 20+ Historical Novels & Short Stories. Georg Ebers
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summoning his dressers, proceeded for the first time to exchange his mourning garments for the splendid royal robes.
Croesus and Phanes went into the green and pleasant garden lying on the eastern side of the royal palace, which abounded in groves of trees, shrubberies, fountains and flower-beds. Phanes was radiant with delight; Croesus full of care and thought.
“Have you duly reflected,” said the latter, “on the burning brand that you have just flung out into the world?”
“It is only children and fools that act without reflection,” was the answer.
“You forget those who are deluded by passion.”
“I do not belong to that number.”
“And yet revenge is the most fearful of all the passions.”
“Only when it is practised in the heat of feeling. My revenge is as cool as this piece of iron; but I know my duty.”
“The highest duty of a good man, is to subordinate his own welfare to that of his country.”
“That I know.”
“You seem to forget, however, that with Egypt you are delivering your own country over to the Persians.”
“I do not agree with you there.”
“Do you believe, that when all the rest of the Mediterranean coasts belong to Persia, she will leave your beautiful Greece untouched?”
“Certainly not, but I know my own countrymen; I believe them fully capable of a victorious resistance to the hosts of the barbarians, and am confident that their courage and greatness will rise with the nearness of the danger. It will unite our divided tribes into one great nation, and be the ruin of the tyrants.”
“I cannot argue with you, for I am no longer acquainted with the state of things in your native country, and besides, I believe you to be a wise man—not one who would plunge a nation into ruin merely for the gratification of his own ambition. It is a fearful thing that entire nations should have to suffer for the guilt of one man, if that man be one who wears a crown. And now, if my opinion is of any importance to you, tell me what the deed was which has roused your desire of vengeance.”
“Listen then, and never try again to turn me from my purpose. You know the heir to the Egyptian throne, and you know Rhodopis too. The former was, for many reasons, my mortal enemy, the latter the friend of every Greek, but mine especially. When I was obliged to leave Egypt, Psamtik threatened me with his vengeance; your son Gyges saved my life. A few weeks later my two children came to Naukratis, in order to follow me out to Sigeum. Rhodopis took them kindly under her protection, but some wretch had discovered the secret and betrayed it to the prince. The very next night her house was surrounded and searched,—my children found and taken captive. Amasis had meanwhile become blind, and allowed his miserable son to do what he liked; the wretch dared to...”
“Kill your only son?”
“You have said it.”
“And your other child?”
“The girl is still in their hands.”
“They will do her an injury when they hear...”
“Let her die. Better go to one’s grave childless, than unrevenged.”
“I understand. I cannot blame you any longer. The boy’s blood must be revenged.”
And so saying, the old man pressed the Athenian’s right hand. The latter dried his tears, mastered his emotion, and cried: “Let us go to the council of war now. No one can be so thankful for Psamtik’s infamous deeds as Cambyses. That man with his hasty passions was never made to be a prince of peace.”
“And yet it seems to me the highest duty of a king is to work for the inner welfare of his kingdom. But human beings are strange creatures; they praise their butchers more than their benefactors. How many poems have been written on Achilles! but did any one ever dream of writing songs on the wise government of Pittakus?”
“More courage is required to shed blood, than to plant trees.”
“But much more kindness and wisdom to heal wounds, than to make them.—I have still one question which I should very much like to ask you, before we go into the hall. Will Bartja be able to stay at Naukratis when Amasis is aware of the king’s intentions?”
“Certainly not. I have prepared him for this, and advised his assuming a disguise and a false name.”
“Did he agree?”
“He seemed willing to follow my advice.”
“But at all events it would be well to send a messenger to put him on his guard.”
“We will ask the king’s permission.”
“Now we must go. I see the wagons containing the viands of the royal household just driving away from the kitchen.”
“How many people are maintained from the king’s table daily?”
“About fifteen thousand.”
“Then the Persians may thank the gods, that their king only takes one meal a day.”
[This immense royal household is said to have cost 400 talents, that
is (L90,000.) daily. Athenaus, Deipn. p. 607.]
CHAPTER IX.
Six weeks after these events a little troop of horsemen might have been seen riding towards the gates of Sardis. The horses and their riders were covered with sweat and dust. The former knew that they were drawing near a town, where there would be stables and mangers, and exerted all their remaining powers; but yet their pace did not seem nearly fast enough to satisfy the impatience of two men, dressed in Persian costume, who rode at the head of the troop.
The well-kept royal road ran through fields of good black, arable land, planted with trees of many different kinds. It crossed the outlying spurs of the Tmolus range of mountains. At their foot stretched rows of olive, citron and plane-trees, plantations of mulberries and vines; at a higher level grew firs, cypresses and nut-tree copses. Fig-trees and date-palms, covered with fruit, stood sprinkled over the fields; and the woods and meadows were carpeted with brightly-colored and sweetly-scented flowers. The road led over ravines and brooks, now half dried up by the heat of summer, and here and there the traveller came upon a well at the side of the road, carefully enclosed, with seats for the weary, and sheltering shrubs. Oleanders bloomed in the more damp and shady places; slender palms waved wherever the sun was hottest. Over this rich landscape hung a deep blue, perfectly cloudless sky, bounded on its southern horizon by the snowy peaks of the Tmolus mountains, and on the west by the Sipylus range of hills, which gave a bluish shimmer in the distance.
The road went down into the valley, passing through a little wood of birches, the stems of which, up to the very tree-top, were twined with vines covered with bunches of grapes.
The horsemen stopped at a bend in the road, for there, before them, in the celebrated valley of the Hermus, lay the golden Sardis, formerly the capital of the Lydian kingdom and residence of its king, Croesus.
Above the reed-thatched roofs of its numerous houses rose a black, steep rock; the white marble buildings on its summit could be seen from a great distance. These buildings formed the citadel, round the threefold walls of which, many centuries before, King Meles had carried a lion in order to render them impregnable. On its southern side the citadel-rock was not so steep, and houses had been built upon it. Croesus’ former palace lay to the north, on the golden-sanded Pactolus. This reddish-colored river flowed above the market-place, (which, to our admiring travellers, looked like a barren spot in the midst of a blooming meadow), ran on in a westerly direction, and then entered a narrow mountain valley, where it washed the walls of the temple of Cybele.