The Complete Novels of Georg Ebers. Georg Ebers
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tell you I am much happier than you are. My wives are young and charming, and when they grow old, what is to hinder me from taking others, still handsomer, and who, by the side of the faded beauties, will be doubly charming. Ho! slave—bring some lamps. The sun has gone down, and the wine loses all its flavor when the table is not brightly lighted.”
At this moment the voice of Darius, who had left the arbor and gone out into the garden, was heard calling: “Come and hear how beautifully the nightingale is singing.”
“By Mithras, you son of Hystaspes, you must be in love,” interrupted Araspes. “The flowery darts of love must have entered the heart of him, who leaves his wine to listen to the nightingale.”
“You are right there, father,” cried Bartja. “Philomel, as the Greeks call our Gulgul, is the lovers’ bird among all nations, for love has given her her beautiful song. What beauty were you dreaming of, Darius, when you went out to listen to the nightingale?”
“I was not dreaming of any,” answered he. “You know how fond I am of watching the stars, and the Tistar-star rose so splendidly to-night, that I left the wine to watch it. The nightingales were singing so loudly to one another, that if I had not wished to hear them I must have stopped my ears.”
“You kept them wide open, however,” said Araspes laughing. “Your enraptured exclamation proved that.”
“Enough of this,” cried Darius, to whom these jokes were getting wearisome. “I really must beg you to leave off making allusions to matters, which I do not care to hear spoken of.”
“Imprudent fellow!” whispered the older man; “now you really have betrayed yourself. If you were not in love, you would have laughed instead of getting angry. Still I won’t go on provoking you—tell me what you have just been reading in the stars.”
At these words Darius looked up again into the starry sky and fixed his eyes on a bright constellation hanging over the horizon. Zopyrus watched him and called out to his friends, “Something important must be happening up there. Darius, tell us what’s going on in the heavens just now.”
“Nothing good,” answered the other. “Bartja, I have something to say to you alone.”
“Why to me alone? Araspes always keeps his own counsel, and from the rest of you I never have any secrets.”
“Still—”
“Speak out.”
“No, I wish you would come into the garden with me.”
Bartja nodded to the others, who were still sitting over their wine, laid his hand on Darius’ shoulder and went out with him into the bright moonlight. As soon as they were alone, Darius seized both his friend’s hands, and said: “To-day is the third time that things have happened in the heavens, which bode no good for you. Your evil star has approached your favorable constellation so nearly, that a mere novice in astrology could see some serious danger was at hand. Be on your guard, Bartja, and start for Egypt to-day; the stars tell me that the danger is here on the Euphrates, not abroad.”
“Do you believe implicitly in the stars?”
“Implicitly. They never lie.”
“Then it would be folly to try and avoid what they have foretold.”
“Yes, no man can run away from his destiny; but that very destiny is like a fencing-master—his favorite pupils are those who have the courage and skill to parry his own blows. Start for Egypt to-day, Bartja.”
“I cannot—I haven’t taken leave of my mother and Atossa.”
“Send them a farewell message, and tell Croesus to explain the reason of your starting so quickly.”
“They would call me a coward.”
“It is cowardly to yield to any mortal, but to go out of the way of one’s fate is wisdom.”
“You contradict yourself, Darius. What would the fencing-master say to a runaway-pupil?”
“He would rejoice in the stratagem, by which an isolated individual tried to escape a superior force.”
“But the superior force must conquer at last.—What would be the use of my trying to put off a danger which, you say yourself, cannot be averted? If my tooth aches, I have it drawn at once, instead of tormenting and making myself miserable for weeks by putting off the painful operation as a coward or a woman would, till the last moment. I can await this coming danger bravely, and the sooner it comes the better, for then I shall have it behind me.”
“You do not know how serious it is.”
“Are you afraid for my life?”
“No.”
“Then tell me, what you are afraid of.”
“That Egyptian priest with whom I used to study the stars, once cast your horoscope with me. He knew more about the heavens, than any man I ever saw. I learnt a great deal from him, and I will not hide from you that even then he drew my attention to dangers that threaten you now.”
“And you did not tell me?”
“Why should I have made you uneasy beforehand? Now that your destiny is drawing near, I warn you.”
“Thank you,—I will be careful. In former times I should not have listened to such a warning, but now that I love Sappho, I feel as if my life were not so much my own to do what I like with, as it used to be.”
“I understand this feeling...”
“You understand it? Then Araspes was right? You don’t deny?”
“A mere dream without any hope of fulfilment.”
“But what woman could refuse you?”
“Refuse!”
“I don’t understand you. Do you mean to say that you—the boldest sportsman, the strongest wrestler—the wisest of all the young Persians—that you, Darius, are afraid of a woman?”
“Bartja, may I tell you more, than I would tell even to my own father?”
“Yes.”
“I love the daughter of Cyrus, your sister and the king’s, Atossa.”
“Have I understood you rightly? you love Atossa? Be praised for this, O ye pure Amescha cpenta! Now I shall never believe in your stars again, for instead of the danger with which they threatened me, here comes an unexpected happiness. Embrace me, my brother, and tell me the whole story, that I may see whether I can help you to turn this hopeless dream, as you call it, into a reality.”
“You will remember that before our journey to Egypt, we went with the entire court from Ecbatana to Susa. I was in command of the division of the ‘Immortals’ appointed to escort the carriages containing the king’s mother and sister, and his wives. In going through the narrow pass which leads over the Orontes, the horses of your mother’s carriage slipped. The yoke to which the horses were harnessed broke from the pole, and the heavy, four-wheeled carriage fell over the precipice without obstruction.
[There was a yoke at the end of the shaft of a Persian carriage,
which was fastened on to the backs of the horses and took the place
of our horse-collar and pole-chain.]
On seeing it disappear, we were horrified and spurred our horses to the place as quickly as possible. We expected of course to see only fragments of the carriages and the dead bodies of its inmates, but the gods had taken them into their almighty protection, and there lay the carriage, with broken wheels, in the arms of two gigantic cypresses which had taken firm root in the fissures of the slate rocks, and whose dark tops reached up to the edge of the carriage-road.
“As quick as thought I sprang from my horse and scrambled down one of the cypresses. Your mother and sister stretched their arms to me, crying for help. The danger was frightful, for the sides