overlaid with plates of gold of immense value, and roofed with tiles
made of the precious metals.]
They found Bartja lying on a couch in the great hall; he looked very pale, and stretched out his arms towards them.
The friends supped together at the satrap’s table and then retired to Bartja’s private room, in order to enjoy an undisturbed conversation.
“Well, Bartja, how did you come by this dangerous illness?” was Darius’ first question after they were seated.
“I was thoroughly well, as you know,” said Bartja, “when we left Babylon, and we reached Germa, a little town on the Sangarius, without the slightest hindrance. The ride was long and we were very tired, burnt too by the scorching May sun, and covered with dust; the river flows by the station, and its waves looked so clear and bright—so inviting for a bathe—that in a minute Zopyrus and I were off our horses, undressed, and in the water. Gyges told us we were very imprudent, but we felt confident that we were too much inured to such things to get any harm, and very much enjoyed our swim in the cool, green water. Gyges, perfectly calm as usual, let us have our own way, waited till our bath was over, and then plunged in himself.
“In two hours we were in our saddles again, pushing on as if for our very lives, changing horses at every station, and turning night into day.
“We were near Ipsus, when I began to feel violent pains in the head and limbs. I was ashamed to say anything about it and kept upright on my saddle, until we had to take fresh horses at Bagis. Just as I was in the very act of mounting, I lost my senses and strength, and fell down on the ground in a dead faint.”
“Yes, a pretty fright you gave us,” interrupted Zopyrus, “by dropping down in that fashion. It was fortunate that Gyges was there, for I lost my wits entirely; he, of course, kept his presence of mind, and after relieving his feelings in words not exactly flattering to us two, he behaved like a circumspect general.—A fool of a doctor came running up and protested that it was all over with poor Bart, for which I gave him a good thrashing.”
“Which he didn’t particularly object to,” said the satrap, laughing, “seeing that you told them to lay a gold stater on every stripe.”
“Yes, yes, my pugnacity costs me very dear sometimes. But to our story. As soon as Bartja had opened his eyes, Gyges sent me off to Sardis to fetch a good physician and an easy travelling-carriage. That ride won’t so soon be imitated. An hour before I reached the gates my third horse knocked up under me, so I had to trust to my own legs, and began running as fast as I could. The people must all have thought me mad. At last I saw a man on horseback—a merchant from Kelaenze—dragged him from his horse, jumped into the saddle, and, before the next morning dawned, I was back again with our invalid, bringing the best physician in Sardis, and Oroetes’ most commodious travelling-carriage. We brought him to this house at a slow footpace, and here a violent fever came on, he became delirious, talked all the nonsense that could possibly come into a human brain, and made us so awfully anxious, that the mere remembrance of that time brings the big drops of perspiration to my forehead.”
Bartja took his friend’s hand: “I owe my life to him and Gyges,” said he, turning to Darius. “Till to-day, when they set out to meet you, they have never left me for a minute; a mother could not have nursed her sick child more carefully. And Oroetes, I am much obliged to you too; doubly so because your kindness subjected you to annoyance.”
“How could that be?” asked Darius.
“That Polykrates of Samos, whose name we heard so often in Egypt, has the best physician that Greece has ever produced. While I was lying here ill, Oroetes wrote to this Democedes, making him immense promises, if he would only come to Sardis directly. The Sainian pirates, who infest the whole Ionian coast, took the messenger captive and brought Oroetes’ letter to their master Polykrates. He opened it, and sent the messenger back with the answer, that Democedes was in his pay, and that if Oroetes needed his advice he must apply to Polykrates himself. Our generous friend submitted for my sake, and asked the Samian to send his physician to Sardis.”
“Well,” said Prexaspes, “and what followed?”
“The proud island-prince sent him at once. He cured me, as you see, and left us a few days ago loaded with presents.”
“Well,” interrupted Zopyrus, “I can quite understand, that Polykrates likes to keep his physician near him. I assure you, Darius, it would not be easy to find his equal. He’s as handsome as Minutscher, as clever as Piran Wisa, as strong as Rustem, and as benevolent and helpful as the god Soma. I wish you could have seen how well he threw those round metal plates he calls discs. I am no weakling, but when we wrestled he soon threw me. And then he could tell such famous stories—stories that made a man’s heart dance within him.”
[This very Oroetes afterwards succeeded in enticing Polykrates to
Sardis and there crucified him. Herod. III. 120-125. Valerius
Maximus VI. 9. 5.]
“We know just such a fellow too,” said Darius, smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm. “That Athenian Phanes, who came to prove our innocence.”
“The physician Democedes is from Crotona, a place which must be somewhere very near the setting sun.”
“But is inhabited by Greeks, like Athens.” added Oroetes. “Ah, my young friends, you must beware of those fellows; they’re as cunning, deceitful, and selfish, as they are strong, clever, and handsome.”
“Democedes is generous and sincere,” cried Zopyrus.
“And Croesus himself thinks Phanes not only an able, but a virtuous man,” added Darius.
“Sappho too has always, and only spoken well of the Athenian,” said Bartja, in confirmation of Darius’s remark. “But don’t let us talk any more about these Greeks,” he went on. “They give Oroetes so much trouble by their refractory and stubborn conduct, that he is not very fond of them.”
“The gods know that,” sighed the satrap. “It’s more difficult to keep one Greek town in order, than all the countries between the Euphrates and the Tigris.”
While Oroetes was speaking, Zopyrus had gone to the window. “The stars are already high in the heavens,” he said, “and Bartja is tired; so make haste, Darius, and tell us something about home.”
The son of Hystaspes agreed at once, and began by relating the events which we have heard already. Bartja, especially, was distressed at hearing of Nitetis’ sad end, and the discovery of Amasis’ fraud filled them all with astonishment. After a short pause, Darius went on:
“When once Nitetis’ descent had been fully proved, Cambyses was like a changed man. He called a council of war, and appeared at table in the royal robes instead of his mourning garments. You can fancy what universal joy the idea of a war with Egypt excited. Even Croesus, who you know is one of Amasis’ well-wishers, and advises peace whenever it is possible, had not a word to say against it. The next morning, as usual, what had been resolved on in intoxication was reconsidered by sober heads; after several opinions had been given, Phanes asked permission to speak, and spoke I should think for an hour. But how well! It was as if every word he said came direct from the gods. He has learnt our language in a wonderfully short time, but it flowed from his lips like honey. Sometimes he drew tears from every eye, at others excited stormy shouts of joy, and then wild bursts of rage. His gestures were as graceful as those of a dancing-girl, but at the same time manly and dignified. I can’t repeat his speech; my poor words, by the side of his, would sound like the rattle of a drum after a peal of thunder. But when at last, inspired and carried away by his eloquence, we had unanimously decided on war, he began to speak once more on the best ways and means of prosecuting it successfully.”
Here Darius was obliged to stop, as Zopyrus had fallen on his neck in an ecstasy of delight. Bartja, Gyges and Oroetes were not less delighted, and they all begged him to go on with his tale.
“Our army,” began Darius afresh, “ought