Georg Ebers - Premium Collection: Historical Novels, Stories & Autobiography. Georg Ebers
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it! I hear the dogs already in the court.”
“I was still in Egypt when your embassy came to fetch Nitetis. At the house of Rhodopis, my delightful, clever and celebrated countrywoman, I made the acquaintance of Croesus and his son; I only saw your brother and his friends once or twice, casually; still I remembered the young prince’s handsome face so well, that some time later, when I was in the workshop of the great sculptor Theodorus at Samos, I recognized his features at once.”
“Did you meet him at Samos?”
“No, but his features had made such a deep and faithful impression on Theodorus’ memory, that he used them to beautify the head of an Apollo, which the Achaemenidae had ordered for the new temple of Delphi.”
“Your tale begins, at least, incredibly enough. How is it possible to copy features so exactly, when you have not got them before you?”
“I can only answer that Theodorus has really completed this master-piece, and if you wish for a proof of his skill would gladly send you a second likeness of...”
“I have no desire for it. Go on with your story.”
“On my journey hither, which, thanks to your father’s excellent arrangements, I performed in an incredibly short time, changing horses every sixteen or seventeen miles...”
“Who allowed you, a foreigner, to use the posthorses?”
“The pass drawn out for the son of Croesus, which came by chance into my hands, when once, in order to save my life, he forced me to change clothes with him.”
“A Lydian can outwit a fox, and a Syrian a Lydian, but an Ionian is a match for both,” muttered the king, smiling for the first time; “Croesus told me this story—poor Croesus!” and then the old gloomy expression came over his face and he passed his hand across his forehead, as if trying to smooth the lines of care away. The Athenian went on: “I met with no hindrances on my journey till this morning at the first hour after midnight, when I was detained by a strange occurrence.”
The king began to listen more attentively, and reminded the Athenian, who spoke Persian with difficulty, that there was no time to lose.
“We had reached the last station but one,” continued he, “and hoped to be in Babylon by sunrise. I was thinking over my past stirring life, and was so haunted by the remembrance of evil deeds unrevenged that I could not sleep; the old Egyptian at my side, however, slept and dreamt peacefully enough, lulled by the monotonous tones of the harness bells, the sound of the horses’ hoofs and the murmur of the Euphrates. It was a wonderfully still, beautiful night; the moon and stars were so brilliant, that our road and the landscape were lighted up almost with the brightness of day. For the last hour we had not seen a single vehicle, foot-passenger, or horseman; we had heard that all the neighboring population had assembled in Babylon to celebrate your birthday, gaze with wonder at the splendor of your court, and enjoy your liberality. At last the irregular beat of horses’ hoofs, and the sound of bells struck my ear, and a few minutes later I distinctly heard cries of distress. My resolve was taken at once; I made my Persian servant dismount, sprang into his saddle, told the driver of the cart in which my slaves were sitting not to spare his mules, loosened my dagger and sword in their scabbards, and spurred my horse towards the place from whence the cries came. They grew louder and louder. I had not ridden a minute, when I came on a fearful scene. Three wild-looking fellows had just pulled a youth, dressed in the white robes of a Magian, from his horse, stunned him with heavy blows, and, just as I reached them, were on the point of throwing him into the Euphrates, which at that place washes the roots of the palms and fig-trees bordering the high-road. I uttered my Greek war-cry, which has made many an enemy tremble before now, and rushed on the murderers. Such fellows are always cowards; the moment they saw one of their accomplices mortally wounded, they fled. I did not pursue them, but stooped down to examine the poor boy, who was severely wounded. How can I describe my horror at seeing, as I believed, your brother Bartja? Yes, they were the very same features that I had seen, first at Naukratis and then in Theodorus’ workshop, they were...”
“Marvellous!” interrupted Hystaspes.
“Perhaps a little too much so to be credible,” added the king. “Take care, Hellene! remember my arm reaches far. I shall have the truth of your story put to the proof.”
“I am accustomed,” answered Phanes bowing low, “to follow the advice of our wise philosopher Pythagoras, whose fame may perhaps have reached your ears, and always, before speaking, to consider whether what I am going to say may not cause me sorrow in the future.”
“That sounds well; but, by Mithras, I knew some one who often spoke of that great teacher, and yet in her deeds turned out to be a most faithful disciple of Angramainjus. You know the traitress, whom we are going to extirpate from the earth like a poisonous viper to-day.”
“Will you forgive me,” answered Phanes, seeing the anguish expressed in the king’s features, “if I quote another of the great master’s maxims?”
“Speak.”
“Blessings go as quickly as they come. Therefore bear thy lot patiently. Murmur not, and remember that the gods never lay a heavier weight on any man than he can bear. Hast thou a wounded heart? touch it as seldom as thou wouldst a sore eye. There are only two remedies for heart-sickness:—hope and patience.”
Cambyses listened to this sentence, borrowed from the golden maxims of Pythagoras, and smiled bitterly at the word “patience.” Still the Athenian’s way of speaking pleased him, and he told him to go on with his story.
Phanes made another deep obeisance, and continued: “We carried the unconscious youth to my carriage, and brought him to the nearest station. There he opened his eyes, looked anxiously at me, and asked who I was and what had happened to him? The master of the station was standing by, so I was obliged to give the name of Gyges in order not to excite his suspicions by belying my pass, as it was only through this that I could obtain fresh horses.
“This wounded young man seemed to know Gyges, for he shook his head and murmured: ‘You are not the man you give yourself out for.’ Then he closed his eyes again, and a violent attack of fever came on.
“We undressed, bled him and bound up his wounds. My Persian servant, who had served as overlooker in Amasis’ stables and had seen Bartja there, assisted by the old Egyptian who accompanied me, was very helpful, and asserted untiringly that the wounded man could be no other than your brother. When we had cleansed the blood from his face, the master of the station too swore that there could be no doubt of his being the younger son of your great father Cyrus. Meanwhile my Egyptian companion had fetched a potion from the travelling medicine-chest, without which an Egyptian does not care to leave his native country.
[A similar travelling medicine-chest is to be seen in the Egyptian
Museum at Berlin. It is prettily and compendiously fitted up, and
must be very ancient, for the inscription on the chest, which
contained it stated that it was made in the 11th dynasty (end of the
third century B. C.) in the reign of King Mentuhotep.]
The drops worked wonders; in a few hours the fever was quieted, and at sunrise the patient opened his eyes once more. We bowed down before him, believing him to be your brother, and asked if he would like to be taken to the palace in Babylon. This he refused vehemently, and asseverated that he was not the man we took him for, but,...”
“Who can be so like Bartja? tell me quickly,” interrupted the king, “I am very curious to know this.”
“He declared that he was the brother of your high-priest, that his name was Gaumata, and that this would be proved by the pass which we should find in the sleeve of his Magian’s robe. The landlord found this document and, being able to read, confirmed the statement of the sick youth; he was, however, soon seized by a fresh attack of fever, and began to speak incoherently.”
“Could you understand him?”
“Yes, for his talk always ran on the same