“Oh, my mother would be delighted to have you for a son-in-law; I will answer for that. As to the king, your father must apply to him; he is our uncle and has a right to ask the hand of Cyrus’s daughter for his son.”
“But have you forgotten your father’s dream? You know that Cambyses has always looked on me with suspicion since that time.”
“Oh, that has been long forgotten. My father dreamt before his death that you had wings, and was misled by the soothsayers into the fancy that you, though you were only eighteen then, would try to gain the crown. Cambyses thought of this dream too; but, when you saved my mother and sister, Croesus explained to him that this must have been its fulfilment, as no one but Darius or a winged eagle could possibly have possessed strength and dexterity enough to hang suspended over such an abyss.”
“Yes, and I remember too that these words did not please your brother. He chooses to be the only eagle in Persia; but Croesus does not spare his vanity—”
“Where can Croesus be all this time?”
“In the hanging-gardens. My father and Gobryas have very likely detained him.”
Just at that moment the voice of Zopyrus was heard exclaiming, “Well, I call that polite! Bartja invites us to a wine-party and leaves us sitting here without a host, while he talks secrets yonder.”
“We are coming, we are coming,” answered Bartja. Then taking the hand of Darius heartily, he said: “I am very glad that you love Atossa. I shall stay here till the day after to-morrow, let the stars threaten me with all the dangers in the world. To-morrow I will find out what Atossa feels, and when every thing is in the right track I shall go away, and leave my winged Darius to his own powers.”
So saying Bartja went back into the arbor, and his friend began to watch the stars again. The longer he looked the sadder and more serious became his face, and when the Tistar-star set, he murmured, “Poor Bartja!” His friends called him, and he was on the point of returning to them, when he caught sight of a new star, and began to examine its position carefully. His serious looks gave way to a triumphant smile, his tall figure seemed to grow taller still, he pressed his hand on his heart and whispered: “Use your pinions, winged Darius; your star will be on your side,” and then returned to his friends.
A few minutes after, Croesus came up to the arbor. The youths sprang from their seats to welcome the old man, but when he saw Bartja’s face by the bright moonlight, he stood as if transfixed by a flash of lightning.
“What has happened, father?” asked Gyges, seizing his hand anxiously.
“Nothing, nothing,” he stammered almost inaudibly, and pushing his son on one side, whispered in Bartja’s ear: “Unhappy boy, you are still here? don’t delay any longer,—fly at once! the whip-bearers are close at my heels, and I assure you that if you don’t use the greatest speed, you will have to forfeit your double imprudence with your life.”
“But Croesus, I have...”
“You have set at nought the law of the land and of the court, and, in appearance at least, have done great offence to your brother’s honor. ...”
“You are speaking...”
“Fly, I tell you—fly at once; for if your visit to the hanging-gardens was ever so innocently meant, you are still in the greatest danger. You know Cambyses’ violent temper so well; how could you so wickedly disobey his express command?”
“I don’t understand.”
“No excuses,—fly! don’t you know that, Cambyses has long been jealous of you, and that your visit to the Egyptian to-night...”
“I have never once set foot in the hanging-gardens, since Nitetis has been here.”
“Don’t add a lie to your offence, I...”
“But I swear to you...”
“Do you wish to turn a thoughtless act into a crime by adding the guilt of perjury? The whip-bearers are coming, fly!”
“I shall remain here, and abide by my oath.”
“You are infatuated! It is not an hour ago since I myself, Hystaspes, and others of the Achaemenidae saw you in the hanging-gardens...”
In his astonishment Bartja had, half involuntarily, allowed himself to be led away, but when he heard this he stood still, called his friends and said “Croesus says he met me an hour ago in the hanging-gardens, you know that since the sun set I have not been away from you. Give your testimony, that in this case an evil Div must have made sport of our friend and his companions.”
“I swear to you, father,” cried Gyges, “that Bartja has not left this garden for some hours.”
“And we confirm the same,” added Araspes, Zopyrus and Darius with one voice.
“You want to deceive me?” said Croesus getting very angry, and looking at each of them reproachfully: “Do you fancy that I am blind or mad? Do you think that your witness will outweigh the words of such men as Hystaspes, Gobryas, Artaphernes and the high priest, Oropastes? In spite of all your false testimony, which no amount of friendship can justify, Bartja will have to die unless he flies at once.”
“May Angramainjus destroy me,” said Araspes interrupting the old man, “if Bartja was in the hanging-gardens two hours ago!” and Gyges added:
“Don’t call me your son any longer, if we have given false testimony.”
Darius was beginning to appeal to the eternal stars, but Bartja put an end to this confusion of voices by saying in a decided tone: “A division of the bodyguard is coming into the garden. I am to be arrested; I cannot escape because I am innocent, and to fly would lay me open to suspicion. By the soul of my father, the blind eyes of my mother, and the pure light of the sun, Croesus, I swear that I am not lying.”
“Am I to believe you, in spite of my own eyes which have never yet deceived me? But I will, boy, for I love you. I do not and I will not know whether you are innocent or guilty, but this I do know, you must fly, and fly at once. You know Cambyses. My carriage is waiting at the gate. Don’t spare the horses, save yourself even if you drive them to death. The Soldiers seem to know what they have been sent to do; there can be no question that they delay so long only in order to give their favorite time to escape. Fly, fly, or it is all over with you.”
Darius, too, pushed his friend forward, exclaiming: “Fly, Bartja, and remember the warning that the heavens themselves wrote in the stars for you.”
Bartja, however, stood silent, shook his handsome head, waved his friends back, and answered: “I never ran away yet, and I mean to hold my ground to-day. Cowardice is worse than death in my opinion, and I would rather suffer wrong at the hands of others than disgrace myself. There are the soldiers! Well met, Bischen. You’ve come to arrest me, haven’t you? Wait one moment, till I have said good-bye to my friends.”
Bischen, the officer he spoke to, was one of Cyrus’s old captains; he had given Bartja his first lessons in shooting and throwing the spear, had fought by his side in the war with the Tapuri, and loved him as if he were his own son. He interrupted him, saying: “There is no need to take leave of your friends, for the king, who is raging like a madman, ordered me not only to arrest you, but every one else who might be with you.”
And then he added in a low voice: “The king is beside himself with rage and threatens to have your life. You must fly. My men will do what I tell them blindfold; they will not pursue you; and I am so old that it would be little loss to Persia, if my head were the price of my disobedience.”
“Thanks, thanks, my friend,” said Bartja, giving him his hand; “but I cannot accept your offer, because I am innocent, and I know that though Cambyses is hasty, he is not unjust. Come friends, I think the king will give us a hearing to-day, late as it is.”