CHAPTER XIII.

       Table of Contents

      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 voice of Boges joking and laughing with these women, who were under his charge. At last all was quiet in the wide palace halls and then her thoughts turned to her distant home and her poor sister Tachot, longing for her and for the beautiful Bartja, who, Croesus had told her, was going to-morrow to the war and possibly to death. At last she fell asleep, overcome by the fatigue of the journey and dreaming of her future husband. She saw him on his black charger. The foaming animal shied at Bartja who was lying in the road, threw his rider and dragged him into the Nile, whose waves became blood-red. In her terror she screamed for help; her cries were echoed back from the Pyramids in such loud and fearful tones that she awoke.

      But hark! what could that be? That wailing, shrill cry which she had heard in her dream,—she could hear it still.

      Hastily drawing aside the shutters from one of the openings which served as windows, she looked out. A large and beautiful garden, laid out with fountains and shady avenues, lay before her, glittering with the early dew.

      [The Persian gardens were celebrated throughout the old world, and

       seem to have been laid out much less stiffly than the Egyptian.

       Even the kings of Persia did not consider horticulture beneath their

       notice, and the highest among the Achaemenidae took an especial

       pleasure in laying out parks, called in Persian Paradises. Their

       admiration for well-grown trees went so far, that Xerxes, finding on

       his way to Greece a singularly beautiful tree, hung ornaments of

       gold upon its branches. Firdusi, the great Persian epic poet,

       compares human beauty to the growth of the cypress, as the highest

       praise he can give. Indeed some trees were worshipped by the

       Persians; and as the tree of life in the Hebrew and Egyptian, so we

       find sacred trees in their Paradise.]

      No sound was to be heard except the one which had alarmed her, and this too died away at last on the morning breeze. After a few minutes she heard cries and noise in the distance, then the great city awaking to its daily work, which soon settled down into a deep, dull murmur like the roaring of the sea.

      Nitetis was by this time so thoroughly awakened from the effect of the fresh morning air, that she did not care to lie down again. She went once more to the window and perceived two figures coming out of the house. One she recognized as the eunuch Boges; he was talking to a beautiful Persian woman carelessly dressed. They approached her window. Nitetis hid herself behind the half-opened shutter and listened, for she fancied she heard her own name.

      “The Egyptian is still asleep.” said Boges. “She must be much fatigued by the journey. I see too that one of her windows is still firmly closed.”

      “Then