“Will any one dare to give evidence in favor of such an outrageous criminal?” asked Cambyses, springing up and stamping his foot.
“We will,” “I,” “we,” shouted Araspes, Darius, Gyges and Zopyrus with one voice.
“Traitors, knaves!” cried the king. But as he caught sight of Croesus’ warning eye fixed upon him, he lowered his voice, and said: “What have you to bring forward in favor of this fellow? Take care what you say, and consider well what punishment awaits perjurers.”
“We know that well enough,” said Araspes, “and yet we are ready to swear by Mithras, that we have not left Bartja or his garden one moment since we came back from hunting.”
“As for me,” said Darius, “I, the son of Hystaspes, have especially convincing evidence to give in favor of your brother’s innocence; I watched the rising of the Tistar-star with him; and this, according to Boges, was the very star that shone on his flight.”
Hystaspes gazed on his son in astonishment and doubt at hearing these words, and Cambyses turned a scrutinizing eye first on the one and then on the other party of these strange witnesses, who wished so much, and yet found it so impossible, to believe one another, himself unable to come to a decision.
Bartja, who till now had remained perfectly silent, looking down sadly at his chained hands, took advantage of the silence to say, making at the same time a deep obeisance: “May I be allowed to speak a few words, my King?”
“Speak!”
“From our father we learnt to strive after that which was pure and good only; so up to this time my life has been unstained. If you have ever known me take part in an evil deed, you have a right not to believe me, but if you find no fault in me then trust to what I say, and remember that a son of Cyrus would rather die than tell a lie. I confess that no judge was ever placed in such a perplexing position. The best men in your kingdom testify against one another, friend against friend, father against son. But I tell you that were the entire Persian nation to rise up against you, and swear that Cambyses had committed this or that evil deed, and you were to say, ‘I did not commit it,’ I, Bartja, would give all Persia the lie and exclaim, ‘Ye are all false witnesses; sooner could the sea cast up fire than a son of Cyrus allow his mouth to deal in lies.’ No, Cambyses, you and I are so high-born that no one but yourself can bear evidence against me; and you can only be judged out of your own mouth.”
Cambyses’ looks grew a little milder on hearing these words, and his brother went on: “So I swear to you by Mithras, and by all pure spirits, that I am innocent. May my life become extinct and my race perish from off the earth, if I tell you a lie, when I say that I have not once set foot in the hanging-gardens since my return!”
Bartja’s voice was so firm and his tone so full of assurance, as he uttered this oath that Cambyses ordered his chains to be loosened, and, after a few moments’ thought, said: “I should like to believe you, for I cannot bear to imagine you the worst and most abandoned of men. To-morrow we will summon the astrologers, soothsayers and priests. Perhaps they may be able to discover the truth. Can you see any light in this darkness, Oropastes?”
“Thy servant supposes, that a Div has taken upon him the form of Bartja, in order to ruin the king’s brother and stain thine own royal soul with the blood of thy father’s son.”
Cambyses and every one present nodded their assent to this proposition, and the king was just going to offer his hand to Bartja, when a staff-bearer came in and gave the king a dagger. A eunuch had found it under the windows of Nitetis’ sleeping-apartment.
Cambyses examined the weapon carefully. Its costly hilt was thickly set with rubies and turquoises. As he looked he turned pale, and dashed the dagger on the ground before Bartja with such violence, that the stones fell out of their setting.
“This is your dagger, you wretch!” he shrieked, seized by the same violent passion as before. “This very morning you used it to give the last thrust to the wild boar, that I had mortally wounded. Croesus, you ought to know it too, for my father brought it from your treasure-house at Sardis. At last you are really convicted, you liar!—you impostor! The Divs require no weapons, and such a dagger as this is not to be picked up everywhere. Ah, ha! you are feeling in your girdle! You may well turn pale; your dagger is gone!”
“Yes, it is gone. I must have lost it, and some enemy...”
“Seize him, Bischen, put on his fetters! Take him to prison—the traitor, the perjurer! He shall be strangled to-morrow. Death is the penalty of perjury. Your heads for theirs, you guards, if they escape. Not one word more will I hear; away with you, you perjured villains! Boges, go at once to the hanging-gardens and bring the Egyptian to me. Yet no, I won’t see that serpent again. It is very near dawn now, and at noon she shall be flogged through the streets. Then I’ll...”
But here he was stopped by another fit of epilepsy, and sank down on to the marble floor in convulsions. At this fearful moment Kassandane was led into the hall by the old general Megabyzus. The news of what had happened had found its way to her solitary apartments, and, notwithstanding the hour, she had risen in order to try and discover the truth and warn her son against pronouncing a too hasty decision. She believed firmly that Bartja and Nitetis were innocent, though she could not explain to herself what had happened. Several times she had tried to put herself in communication with Nitetis, but without avail. At last she had been herself to the hanging-gardens, but the guards had actually had the hardihood to refuse her admission.
Croesus went at once to meet her, told her what had happened, suppressing as many painful details as possible, confirmed her in her belief of the innocence of the accused, and then took her to the bedside of the king.
The convulsions had not lasted long this time. He lay on his golden bed under purple silk coverlets, pale and exhausted. His blind mother seated herself at his side, Croesus and Oropastes took their station at the foot of the bell, and in another part of the room, four physicians discussed the patient’s condition in low whispers.
[It was natural, that medicine should be carefully studied among a
people who set such a high value upon life as did the Persians.
Pliny indeed, (XXX. I.) maintains, that the whole of Zoroaster’s
religion was founded on the science of medicine, and it is true that
there are a great many medical directions to be found in the Avesta.
In the Vendidad, Farg. VII. there is a detailed list of medical
fees. “The physician shall treat a priest for a pious blessing or
spell, the master of a house for a small draught animal, etc., the
lord of a district for a team of four oxen. If the physician cures
the mistress of the house, a female ass shall be his fee, etc.,
etc.” We read in the same Fargard, that the physician had to pass a
kind of examination. If he had operated thrice successfully on bad
men, on whose bodies he had been permitted to try his skill, he was
pronounced “capable for ever.” If, on the other hand, three evil
Daevayacna (worshippers of the Divs) died under his hands, he was
pronounced “incapable of healing for evermore.”]
Kassandane was very gentle with her son; she begged him not to yield to passionate anger, and to remember what a sad effect every such outburst had on his health.
“Yes, mother, you are right,” answered the king, smiling bitterly; “I see that I must get rid of everything that rouses my anger. The Egyptian must die, and my perfidious brother shall follow his mistress.”
Kassandane used all her eloquence to convince him of the innocence of the accused, and to pacify his anger, but neither prayers, tears, nor her motherly exhortations, could in the least alter his resolution to rid himself of these murderers