The Complete Novels. Georg Ebers
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I need only remind you, that they be between Egypt and your Asiatic brethren who are already groaning under the Persian yoke. Your acclamations prove that ye agree with me already, but I must ask for a still longer hearing. It is my duty to tell you who has sold, not only Egypt, but his own country to the King of Persia, in return for immense treasures. The man’s name is Phanes! You are angry and inclined to doubt? I swear to you, that this very Phanes has accepted Cambyses’ gold and promised not only to be his guide to Egypt, but to open the gates of your own Greek cities to him. He knows the country and the people, and can be bribed to every perfidy. Look at him! there he is, walking by the side of the king. See how he bows before him! I thought I had heard once, that the Greeks only prostrated themselves before their gods. But of course, when a man sells his country, he ceases to be its citizen. Am I not right? Ye scorn to call so base a creature by the name of countryman? Yes? then I will deliver the wretch’s daughter into your hands. Do what ye will with the child of such a villain. Crown her with wreaths of roses, fall down before her, if it please you, but do not forget that she belongs to a man who has disgraced the name of Hellene, and has betrayed his countrymen and country!”
As he finished speaking the men raised a wild cry of rage and took possession of the trembling child. A soldier held her up, so that her father—the troops not being more than a bow-shot apart—could see all that happened. At the same moment an Egyptian, who afterwards earned celebrity through the loudness of his voice, cried: “Look here, Athenian! see how treachery and corruption are rewarded in this country!” A bowl of wine stood near, provided by the king, from which the soldiers had just been drinking themselves into intoxication. A Karian seized it, plunged his sword into the innocent child’s breast, and let the blood flow into the bowl; filled a goblet with the awful mixture, and drained it, as if drinking to the health of the wretched father. Phanes stood watching the scene, as if struck into a statue of cold stone. The rest of the soldiers then fell upon the bowl like madmen, and wild beasts could not have lapped up the foul drink with greater eagerness.—[Herodotus tells this fearful tale (III. ii.)]
In the same moment Psamtik triumphantly shot off his first arrow into the Persian ranks.
The mercenaries flung the child’s dead body on to the ground; drunk with her blood, they raised their battle-song, and rushed into the strife far ahead of their Egyptian comrades.
But now the Persian ranks began to move. Phanes, furious with pain and rage, led on his heavy-armed troops, indignant too at the brutal barbarity of their countrymen, and dashed into the ranks of those very soldiers, whose love he had tried to deserve during ten years of faithful leadership.
At noon, fortune seemed to be favoring the Egyptians; but at sunset the Persians had the advantage, and when the full-moon rose, the Egyptians were flying wildly from the battle-field, perishing in the marshes and in the arm of the Nile which flowed behind their position, or being cut to pieces by the swords of their enemies.
Twenty thousand Persians and fifty thousand Egyptians lay dead on the blood-stained sea-sand. The wounded, drowned, and prisoners could scarcely be numbered.
[Herod. III. 12. Ktesias, Persica 9. In ancient history the loss
of the conquered is always far greater than that of the conquerors.
To a certain extent this holds good in the present day, but the
proportion is decidedly not so unfavorable for the vanquished.]
Psamtik had been one of the last to fly. He was well mounted, and, with a few thousand faithful followers, reached the opposite bank of the Nile and made for Memphis, the well-fortified city of the Pyramids.
Of the Greek mercenaries very few survived, so furious had been Phanes’ revenge, and so well had he been supported by his Ionians. Ten thousand Karians were taken captive and the murderer of his little child was killed by Phanes’ own hand.
Aristomachus too, in spite of his wooden leg, had performed miracles of bravery; but, notwithstanding all their efforts, neither he, nor any of his confederates in revenge, had succeeded in taking Psamtik prisoner.
When the battle was over, the Persians returned in triumph to their tents, to be warmly welcomed by Croesus and the warriors and priests who had remained behind, and to celebrate their victory by prayers and sacrifices.
The next morning Cambyses assembled his generals and rewarded them with different tokens of distinction, such as costly robes, gold chains, rings, swords, and stars formed of precious stones. Gold and silver coins were distributed among the common soldiers.
The principal attack of the Egyptians had been directed against the centre of the Persian army, where Cambyses commanded in person; and with such effect that the guards had already begun to give way. At that moment Bartja, arriving with his troop of horsemen, had put fresh courage into the wavering, had fought like a lion himself, and by his bravery and promptitude decided the day in favor of the Persians.
The troops were exultant in their joy: they shouted his praises, as “the conqueror of Pelusium” and the “best of the Achaemenidae.”
Their cries reached the king’s ears and made him very angry. He knew he had been fighting at the risk of life, with real courage and the strength of a giant, and yet the day would have been lost if this boy had not presented him with the victory. The brother who had embittered his days of happy love, was now to rob him of half his military glory. Cambyses felt that he hated Bartja, and his fist clenched involuntarily as he saw the young hero looking so happy in the consciousness of his own well-earned success.
Phanes had been wounded and went to his tent; Aristomachus lay near him, dying.
“The oracle has deceived me, after all,” he murmured. “I shall die without seeing my country again.”
“The oracle spoke the truth,” answered Phanes. “Were not the last words of the Pythia?”
‘Then shall the lingering boat to the beckoning meadows convey thee,
Which to the wandering foot peace and a home will afford?’
“Can you misunderstand their meaning? They speak of Charon’s lingering boat, which will convey you to your last home, to the one great resting-place for all wanderers—the kingdom of Hades.”
“Yes, my friend, you are right there. I am going to Hades.”
“And the Five have granted you, before death, what they so long refused,—the return to Lacedaemon. You ought to be thankful to the gods for granting you such sons and such vengeance on your enemies. When my wound is healed, I shall go to Greece and tell your son that his father died a glorious death, and was carried to the grave on his shield, as beseems a hero.”
“Yes, do so, and give him my shield as a remembrance of his old father. There is no need to exhort him to virtue.”
“When Psamtik is in our power, shall I tell him what share you had in his overthrow?”
“No; he saw me before he took to flight, and at the unexpected vision his bow fell from his hand. This was taken by his friends as a signal for flight, and they turned their horses from the battle.”
“The gods ordain, that bad men shall be ruined by their own deeds. Psamtik lost courage, for he must have believed that the very spirits of the lower world were fighting against him.”
“We mortals gave him quite enough to do. The Persians fought well. But the battle would have been lost without the guards and our troops.”
“Without doubt.”
“I thank thee, O Zeus Lacedaemonius.”
“You are praying?”
“I am praising the gods for allowing me to die at ease as to my country. These heterogeneous masses can never be dangerous to Greece. Ho, physician, when am I likely to die?”
The Milesian physician, who had accompanied the Greek troops to Egypt, pointed to the arrow-head sticking fast in his breast, and said with a sad smile, “You have only a few hours more to live. If I were to draw the arrow from your wound, you would die at once.”