full power to do what he wished.  On arriving at Amasis' capital, he went
at once to the temple of Neith, caused the high-priest (who had moreover
placed himself at the head of the citizens hostile to Persia), to be
arrested, and with him a certain oculist named Petammon.  He then
informed them that, as punishment for the burning of certain papers, they
would be condemned to serve a Persian to whom he should sell them, for
the term of their natural lives, and to perform the most menial services
of slaves in a foreign country.  I was present at this scene, and I
assure you I trembled before the Egyptian as he said these words to his
enemies.  Neithotep, however, listened quietly, and when Nebenchari had
finished, answered him thus: If thou, foolish son, hast betrayed thy
country for the sake of thy burnt manuscripts, the deed has been neither
just nor wise.  I preserved thy valuable works with the greatest care,
laid them up in our temple, and sent a complete copy to the library at
Thebes.  Nothing was burnt but the letters from Amasis to thy father,
and a worthless old chest.  Psamtik and Petammon were present, and it was
then and there resolved that a new family tomb in the city of the dead
should be built for thee as a compensation for the loss of papers, which,
in order to save Egypt, we were unfortunately forced to destroy.  On its
walls thou canst behold pleasing paintings of the gods to whom thou hast
devoted thy life, the most sacred chapters from the book of the dead, and
many other beautiful pictures touching thine own life and character."

"The physician turned very pale--asked first to see his books, and then
his new and beautifully-fitted-up tomb.  He then gave his slaves their
freedom, (notwithstanding which they were still taken to Memphis as
prisoners of war), and went home, often passing his hand across his
forehead on the way, and with the uncertain step of one intoxicated.
On reaching his house he made a will, bequeathing all he possessed to the
grandson of his old servant Hib, and, alleging that he was ill, went to
bed.  The next morning he was found dead.  He had poisoned himself with
the fearful strychnos-juice."

"Miserable man" said Croesus.  "The gods had blinded him, and he reaped
despair instead of revenge, as a reward for his treachery."

"I pity him," murmured Rhodopis.  "But look, the rowers are taking in
their oars.  We are at the end of our journey; there are your litters and
carriages waiting for you.  It was a beautiful trip.  Farewell, my dear
ones; come to Naukratis soon,  I shall return at once with Theopompus and
Syloson.  Give little Parmys a thousand kisses from me, and tell Melitta
never to take her out at noon.  It is dangerous for the eyes.  Good-
night, Croesus; good-night, friends, farewell my dear son."

The Persians left the vessel with many a nod and farewell word, and
Bartja, looking round once more, missed his footing and fell on the
landing-pier.

He sprang up in a moment without Zopyrus' help, who came running back,
calling out, "Take care, Bartja!  It's unlucky to fall in stepping
ashore.  I did the very same thing, when we left the ship that time at
Naukratis."




CHAPTER XIV.

While our friends were enjoying their row on the Nile, Cambyses' envoy,
Prexaspes, had returned from a mission to the long-lived Ethiopians.  He
praised their strength and stature, described the way to their country as
almost inaccessible to a large army, and had plenty of marvellous tales
to tell.  How, for instance; they always chose the strongest and
handsomest man in their nation for their king, and obeyed him
unconditionally: how many of them reached the age of 120 years, and some
even passed it: how they ate nothing but boiled flesh, drank new milk and
washed in a spring the waters of which had the scent of violets, gave a
remarkable lustre to their skins, and were so light that wood could not
swim in them: how their captives wore golden fetters, because other
metals were rare and dear in their country; and lastly, how they covered
the bodies of the dead with plaster or stucco, over which a coating of
some glass-like material was poured, and kept the pillars thus formed one
year in their houses, during which time sacrifices were offered them, and
at the year's end they were placed in rows around the town.

The king of this strange people had accepted Cambyses' presents, saying,
in a scornful tone, that he new well his friendship was of no importance
to the Persians, and Prexaspes had only been sent to spy out the land.
If the prince of Asia were a just man, he would be contented with his own
immense empire and not try to subjugate a people who had done him no
wrong.  "Take your king this bow," he said, "and advise him not to begin
the war with us, until the Persians are able to bend such weapons as
easily as we do.  Cambyses may thank the gods, that the Ethiopians have
never taken it into their heads to conquer countries which do not belong
to them."

He then unbent his mighty bow of ebony, and gave it to Prexaspes to take
to his lord.

Cambyses laughed at the bragging African, invited his nobles to a trial
of the bow the next morning, and awarded Prexaspes for the clever way in
which he had overcome the difficulties of his journey and acquitted
himself of his mission.  He then went to rest, as usual intoxicated, and
fell into a disturbed sleep, in which he dreamed that Bartja was seated
on the throne of Persia, and that the crown of his head touched the
heavens.

This was a dream, which he could interpret without the aid of soothsayer
or Chaldean.  It roused his anger first, and then made him thoughtful.

He could not sleep, and such questions as the following came into his
mind: "Haven't you given your brother reason to feel revengeful?  Do you
think he can forget that you imprisoned and condemned him to death, when
he was innocent?  And if he should raise his hand against you, would not
all the Achaemenidae take his part?  Have I ever done, or have I any
intention of ever doing anything to win the love of these venal
courtiers?  Since Nitetis died and that strange Greek fled, has there
been a single human being, in whom I have the least confidence or on
whose affection I can rely?"

These thoughts and questionings excited him so fearfully, that he sprang
from his bed, crying: "Love and I have nothing to do with one another.
Other men maybe kind and good if they like; I must be stern, or I shall
fall into the hands of those who hate me--hate me because I have been
just, and have visited heavy sins with heavy chastisements.  They whisper
flattering words in my ear; they curse me when my back is turned.  The
gods themselves must be my enemies, or why do they rob me of everything
I love, deny me posterity and even that military glory which is my just
due?  Is Bartja so much better than I, that everything which I am forced
to give up should be his in hundred-fold measure?  Love, friendship,
fame, children, everything flows to him as the rivers to the sea, while
my heart is parched like the desert.  But I am king still.  I can show
him which is the stronger of us two, and I will, though his forehead may
touch the heavens.  In Persia there can be only one great man.  He or I,
--I or he.  In a few days I'll send him back to Asia and make him satrap
of Bactria.  There he can nurse his child and listen to his wife's songs,
while I am winning glory in Ethiopia, which it shall not be in his power
to lessen.  Ho, there, dressers!  bring my robes and a good morning-
draught of wine.  I'll show the Persians that I'm fit to be King of
Ethiopia, and can beat them all at bending a bow.  Here, give me another
cup of wine.  I'd bend that bow, if it were a young cedar and its string
a cable!"  So saying he drained an immense bowl of wine and went into the
palace-garden, conscious of his enormous strength and therefore sure of
success.

All his nobles were assembled waiting for him there, welcomed him with
loud acclamations, and fell on their faces to the ground before their
king.

Pillars, connected by scarlet cords, had been quickly set up between the
closely-cut hedges and straight avenues.  From these cords, suspended by
gold and silver rings, yellow and dark blue hangings fluttered in the
breeze.  Gilded wooden benches had been placed round in a large circle,
and nimble cup-bearers handed wine in costly vessels to the company
assembled for the shooting-match.

At a sign from the king the Achaemenidae rose from the earth.

Cambyses glanced over their ranks, and his face brightened on seeing
that Bartja was not there.  Prexaspes handed him the Ethiopian bow, and
pointed out a target at some distance.  Cambyses laughed at the large
size of the target, weighted the bow with his right hand, challenged his
subjects to try their fortune first, and handed the bow to the aged
Hystaspes, as the highest in rank among the Achaemenidae.

While Hystaspes first, and then all the heads of the six other highest
families in Persia, were using their utmost efforts to bend this monster
weapon in vain, the king emptied goblet after goblet of wine, his spirits
rising as he watched their vain endeavors to solve the Ethiopian's
problem.  At last Darius, who was famous for his skill in archery, took
the bow.  Nearly the same result.  The wood was inflexible as iron and
all his efforts only availed to move it one finger's breadth.  The king
gave him a friendly nod in reward for his success, and then, looking
round on his friends and relations in a manner that betokened the most
perfect assurance, he said: "Give me the bow now, Darius.  I will show
you, that there is only one man in Persia who deserves the name of king;
--only one who can venture to take the field against the Ethiopians;--
only one who can bend this bow."

He grasped it tightly with his left hand, taking the string, which was as
thick as a man's finger and made from the intestines of a lion, in his
right, fetched a deep breath, bent his mighty back and pulled and pulled;
collected all his strength for greater and greater efforts, strained his
sinews till they threatened to break, and the veins in his forehead were
swollen to bursting, did not even disdain to use his feet and legs, but
all in vain.  After a quarter of an hour of almost superhuman exertion,
his strength gave way, the ebony, which he had succeeded in bending even
farther than Darius, flew back and set all his further endeavors at
nought.  At last, feeling himself thoroughly exhausted, he dashed the bow
on to the ground in a passion, crying: "The Ethiopian is a liar! no
mortal man has ever bent that bow.  What is impossible for my arm is
possible for no other.  In three days we will start for Ethiopia.  I will
challenge the impostor to a single combat, and ye shall see which is the
stronger.  Take up the bow, Prexaspes, and keep it carefully.  The black
liar shall be strangled with his own bow-string.  This wood is really
harder than iron, and I confess that the man who could bend it, would
really be my master.  I should not be ashamed to call him so, for he must
be of better stuff than I."

As he finished speaking, Bartja appeared in the circle of assembled
Persians.  His glorious figure was set off to advantage by his rich
dress, his features were bright with happiness and a feeling of conscious
strength.  He passed through the ranks of the Achaemenidae with many a
friendly nod, which was warmly returned, and going straight to his
brother, kissed his robe, looked up frankly and cheerfully into his
gloomy eyes, and said: "I am a little late, and ask your forgiveness, my
lord and brother.  Or have I really come in time?  Yes, yes, I see
there's no arrow in the target yet, so I am sure you, the best archer in
the world, cannot have tried your strength yet.  But you look so
enquiringly at me.  Then I will confess that our child kept me.  The
little creature laughed to-day for the first time, and was so charming
with its mother, that I forgot how time was passing while I watched them.
You have all full leave to laugh at my folly; I really don't know how to
excuse myself.  See, the little one has pulled my star from the chain.
But I think, my brother, you will give me a new one to-day if I should
hit the bull's eye.  Shall I shoot first, or will you begin, my
Sovereign?"

"Give him the bow, Prexaspes," said Cambyses, not even deigning to look
at his brother.

Bartja took it and was proceeding to examine the wood and the string,
when Cambyses suddenly called out, with a mocking laugh: "By Mithras, I
believe you want to try your sweet looks on the bow, and win its favor in
that fashion, as you do the hearts of men.  Give it back to Prexaspes.
It's easier to play with beautiful women and laughing children, than with
a weapon like this, which mocks the strength even of real men."

Bartja blushed with anger and annoyance at this speech, which was uttered
in the bitterest tone, picked up the giant arrow that lay before him,
placed himself opposite the target, summoned all his strength, bent the
bow, by an almost superhuman effort, and sent the arrow into the very
centre of the target, where its iron point remained, while the wooden
shaft split into a hundred shivers.

[Herodotus tells this story (III, 30.), and we are indebted to him
also for our information of the events which follow.  The following
inscription, said to have been placed over the grave of Darius, and
communicated by Onesikritus, (Strabo 730.) proves that the Persians
were very proud of being reputed good archers: "I was a friend to my
friends, the best rider and archer, a first-rate hunter; I could do
everything."]

Most of the Achaemenidae burst into loud shouts of delight at this
marvellous proof of strength; but Bartja's nearest friends turned pale
and were silent; they were watching the king, who literally quivered with
rage, and Bartja, who was radiant with pride and joy.

Cambyses was a fearful sight at that moment.  It seemed to him as if that
arrow, in piercing the target, had pierced his own heart, his strength,
dignity and honor.  Sparks floated before his eyes, in his ears was a
sound like the breaking of a stormy sea on the shore; his cheeks glowed
and he grasped the arm of Prexaspes who was at his side.  Prexaspes only
too well understood what that pressure meant, when given by a royal hand,
and murmured: "Poor Bartja!"

At last the king succeeded in recovering his presence of mind.  Without
saying a word, he threw a gold chain to his brother, ordered his nobles
to follow him, and left the garden, but only to wander restlessly up and
down his apartments, and try to drown his rage in wine.  Suddenly he
seemed to have formed a resolution and ordered all the courtiers, except
Prexaspes, to leave the hall.  When they were alone, he called out in a
hoarse voice and with a look that proved the extent of his intoxication:
"This life is not to be borne!  Rid me of my enemy, and I will call you
my friend and benefactor."

Prexaspes trembled, threw himself at the king's feet and raised his hands
imploringly; but Cambyses was too intoxicated, and too much blinded by
his hatred to understand the action.  He fancied the prostration was
meant as a sign of devotion to his will, signed to him to rise, and
whispered, as if afraid of hearing his own words: "Act quickly and
secretly; and, as you value your life, let no one know of the upstart's
death.  Depart, and when your work is finished, take as much as you like
out of the treasury.  But keep your wits about you.  The boy has a strong
arm and a winning tongue.  Think of your own wife and children, if he
tries to win you over with his smooth words."

As he spoke he emptied a fresh goblet of pure wine, staggered through the
door of the room, calling out as he turned his back on Prexaspes: "Woe be
to you if that upstart, that woman's hero, that fellow who has robbed me
of my honor, is left alive."

Long after he had left the hall, Prexaspes stood fixed on the spot where
he had heard these words.  The man was ambitious, but neither mean nor
bad, and he felt crushed by the awful task allotted to him.  He knew that
his refusal to execute it would bring death or disgrace on himself and on
his family; but he loved Bartja, and besides, his whole nature revolted
at the thought of becoming a common, hired murderer.  A fearful struggle
began in his mind, and raged long after he left the palace.  On the way
home he met Croesus and Darius.  He fancied they would see from his looks
that he was already on the way to a great crime, and hid himself behind
the projecting gate of a large Egyptian house.  As they passed, he heard
Croesus say: "I reproached him bitterly, little as he deserves reproach
in general, for having given such an inopportune proof of his great
strength.  We may really thank the gods, that Cambyses did not lay
violent hands on him in a fit of passion.  He has followed my advice now
and gone with his wife to Sais.  For the next few days Bartja must not
come near the king; the mere sight of him might rouse his anger again,
and a monarch can always find unprincipled servants .  .  ."

The rest of the sentence died away in the distance, but the words he had
heard were enough to make Prexaspes start, as if Croesus had accused him
of the shameful deed.  He resolved in that moment that, come what would,
his hands should not be stained with the blood of a friend.  This
resolution restored him his old erect bearing and firm gait for the time,
but when he reached the dwelling which had been assigned as his abode in
Sais his two boys ran to the door to meet him.  They had stolen away from
the play-ground of the sons of the Achaemenidae, (who, as was always the
case, had accompanied the king and the army), to see their father for a
moment.  He felt a strange tenderness, which he could not explain to
himself, on taking them in his arms, and kissed the beautiful boys once
more on their telling him that they must go back to their play-ground
again, or they should be punished.  Within, he found his favorite wife
playing with their youngest child, a sweet little girl.  Again the same
strange, inexplicable feeling of tenderness.  He overcame it this time
for fear of betraying his secret to his young wife, and retired to his
own apartment early.

Night had come on.

The sorely-tried man could not sleep; he turned restlessly from side to
side.  The fearful thought, that his refusal to do the king's will would
be the ruin of his wife and children, stood before his wakeful eyes in
the most vivid colors.  The strength to keep his good resolution forsook
him, and even Croesus' words, which, when he first heard them had given
his nobler feelings the victory, now came in as a power on the other
side.  "A monarch can always find unprincipled servants."  Yes, the words
were an affront, but at the same time a reminder, that though he might
defy the king's command a hundred others would be ready to obey it.  No
sooner had this thought become clear to him, than he started up, examined
a number of daggers which hung, carefully arranged, above his bed, and
laid the sharpest on the little table before him.

He then began to pace the room in deep thought, often going to the
opening which served as a window, to cool his burning forehead and see
if dawn were near.

When at last daylight appeared, he heard the sounding brass calling the
boys to early prayer.  That reminded him of his sons and he examined the
dagger a second time.  A troop of gaily-dressed courtiers rode by on
their way to the king.  He put the dagger in his girdle; and at last, on
hearing the merry laughter of his youngest child sound from the women's
apartments, he set the tiara hastily on his head, left the house without
taking leave of his wife, and, accompanied by a number of slaves, went
down to the Nile.  There he threw himself into a boat and ordered the
rowers to take him to Sais.

.........................

A few hours after the fatal shooting-match, Bartja had followed Croesus'
advice and had gone off to Sais with his young wife.  They found Rhodopis
there.  She had yielded to an irresistible impulse and, instead of
returning to Naukratis, had stopped at Sais.  Bartja's fall on stepping
ashore had disturbed her, and she had with her own eyes seen an owl fly
from the left side close by his head.  These evil omens, to a heart which
had by no means outgrown the superstitions of the age, added to a
confused succession of distressing dreams which had disturbed her
slumbers, and her usual wish to be always near Bartja and Sappho,
led her to decide quickly on waiting for her granddaughter at Sais.

Bartja and Sappho were delighted to find such a welcome guest, and
after she had dandled and played with her great grandchild, the little
Parmys, to her heart's content, they led her to the rooms which had been
prepared for her.

[Herodotus states, that beside Atossa, &c..  Darius took a daughter
of the deceased Bartja, named Parmys, to be his wife.  Herod. III.
88.  She is also mentioned VII. 78.]

They were the same in which the unhappy Tachot had spent the last months
of her fading existence.  Rhodopis could not see all the little trifles
which showed, not only the age and sex of the former occupant, but her
tastes and disposition, without feeling very sad.  On the dressing-table
were a number of little ointment-boxes and small bottles for perfumes,
cosmetics, washes and oils.  Two larger boxes, one in the form of a Nile-
goose, and another on the side of which a woman playing on a lute had
been painted, had once contained the princess's costly golden ornaments,
and the metal mirror with a handle in the form of a sleeping maiden, had
once reflected her beautiful face with its pale pink flush.  Everything
in the room, from the elegant little couch resting on lions' claws, to
the delicately-carved ivory combs on the toilet-table, proved that the
outward adornments of life had possessed much charm for the former owner
of these rooms.  The golden sisirum and the delicately-wrought nabla,
the strings of which had long ago been broken, testified to her taste for
music, while the broken spindle in the corner, and some unfinished nets
of glass beads shewed that she had been fond of woman's usual work.

It was a sad pleasure to Rhodopis to examine all these things, and the
picture which she drew in her own mind of Tachot after the inspection,
differed very little from the reality.  At last interest and curiosity
led her to a large painted chest.  She lifted the light cover and found,
first, a few dried flowers; then a ball, round which some skilful hand
had wreathed roses and leaves, once fresh and bright, now, alas, long ago
dead and withered.  Beside these were a number of amulets in different
forms, one representing the goddess of truth, another containing spells
written on a strip of papyrus and concealed in a little golden case.
Then her eyes fell on some letters written in the Greek character.  She
read them by the light of the lamp.  They were from Nitetis in Persia to
her supposed sister, and were written in ignorance of the latter's
illness.  When Rhodopis laid them down her eyes were full of tears.  The
dead girl's secret lay open before her.  She knew now that Tachot had
loved Bartja, that he had given her the faded flowers, and that she had
wreathed the ball with roses because he had thrown it to her.  The
amulets must have been intended either to heal her sick heart, or to
awaken love in his.

As she was putting the letters back in their old place, she touched some
cloths which seemed put in to fill up the bottom of the chest, and felt a
hard round substance underneath.  She raised them, and discovered a bust
made of colored wax, such a wonderfully-exact portrait of Nitetis, that
an involuntary exclamation of surprise broke from her, and it was long
before she could turn her eyes away from Theodorus' marvellous work.

She went to rest and fell asleep, thinking of the sad fate of Nitetis,
the Egyptian Princess.

The next morning Rhodopis went into the garden--the same into which we
led our readers during the lifetime of Amasis-and found Bartja and Sappho
in an arbor overgrown with vines.

Sappho was seated in a light wicker-work chair.  Her child lay on her
lap, stretching out its little hands and feet, sometimes to its father,
who was kneeling on the ground before them, and then to its mother whose
laughing face was bent down over her little one.

Bartja was very happy with his child.  When the little creature buried
its tiny fingers in his curls and beard, he would draw his head back to
feel the strength of the little hand, would.  kiss its rosy feet, its
little round white shoulders and dimpled arms.  Sappho enjoyed the fun,
always trying to draw the little one's attention to its father.

Sometimes, when she stooped down to kiss the rosy baby lips, her forehead
would touch his curls and he would steal the kiss meant for the little
Parmys.

Rhodopis watched them a long time unperceived, and, with tears of joy in
her eyes, prayed the gods that they might long be as happy as they now
were.  At last she came into the arbor to wish them good-morning, and
bestowed much praise on old Melitta for appearing at the right moment,
parasol in hand, to take her charge out of the sunshine before it became
too bright and hot, and put her to sleep.

The old slave had been appointed head-nurse to the high-born child, and
acquitted herself in her new office with an amount of importance which
was very comical.  Hiding her old limbs under rich Persian robes, she
moved about exulting in the new and delightful right to command, and kept
her inferiors in perpetual motion.

Sappho followed Melitta into the palace, first whispering in her
husband's ear with her arm round his neck: "Tell my grandmother
everything and ask whether you are right."

Before he could answer, she had stopped his mouth with a kiss, and then
hurried after the old woman who was departing with dignified steps.

The prince smiled as he watched her graceful walk and beautiful figure,
and said, turning to Rhodopis: "Does not it strike you, that she has
grown taller lately."

"It seems so," answered Rhodopis.  "A woman's girlhood has its own
peculiar charm, but her true dignity comes with motherhood.  It is the
feeling of having fulfilled her destiny, which raises her head and makes
us fancy she has grown taller."

"Yes," said Bartja, "I think she is happy.  Yesterday our opinions
differed for the first time, and as she was leaving us just now, she
begged me, privately, to lay the question before you, which I am very
glad to do, for I honor your experience and wisdom just as much, as I
love her childlike inexperience."

Bartja then told the story of the unfortunate shooting-match, finishing
with these words: "Croesus blames my imprudence, but I know my brother; I
know that when he is angry he is capable of any act of violence, and it
is not impossible that at the moment when he felt himself defeated he
could have killed me; but I know too, that when his fierce passion has
cooled, he will forget my boastful deed, and only try to excel me by
others of the same kind.  A year ago he was by far the best marksman in
Persia, and would be so still, if drink and epilepsy had not undermined
his strength.  I must confess I feel as if I were becoming stronger every
day."

"Yes," interrupted Rhodopis, "pure happiness strengthens a man's arm,
just as it adds to the beauty of a woman, while intemperance and mental
distress ruin both body and mind far more surely even than old age.  My
son, beware of your brother; his strong arm has become paralyzed, and his
generosity can be forfeited too.  Trust my experience, that the man who
is the slave of one evil passion, is very seldom master of the rest;
besides which, no one feels humiliation so bitterly as he who is sinking
--who knows that his powers are forsaking him.  I say again, beware of
your brother, and trust the voice of experience more than that of your
own heart, which, because it is generous itself, believes every one else
to be so."

"I see," said Bartja, "that you will take Sappho's side.  Difficult as it
will be for her to part from you, she has still begged me to return with
her to Persia.  She thinks that Cambyses may forget his anger, when I am
out of sight.  I thought she was over-anxious, and besides, it would
disappoint me not to take part in the expedition against the Ethiopians."

"But I entreat you," interrupted Rhodopis, "to follow her advice.  The
gods only know what pain it will give me to lose you both, and yet I
repeat a thousand times: Go back to Persia, and remember that none but
fools stake life and happiness to no purpose.  As to the war with
Ethiopia, it is mere madness; instead of subduing those black inhabitants
of the south, you yourselves will be conquered by heat, thirst and all
the horrors of the desert.  In saying this I refer to the campaigns in
general; as to your own share in them, I can only say that if no fame is
to be won there, you will be putting your own life and the happiness of
your family in jeopardy literally for nothing, and that if, on the other
hand, you should distinguish yourself again, it would only be giving
fresh cause of jealousy and anger to your brother.  No, go to Persia, as
soon as you can."

Bartja was just beginning to make various objections to these arguments,
when he caught sight of Prexaspes coming up to them, looking very pale.

After the usual greeting, the envoy whispered to Bartja, that he should
like to speak with him alone.  Rhodopis left them at once, and he began,
playing with the rings on his right hand as he spoke, in a constrained,
embarrassed way.  "I come from the king.  Your display of strength
irritated him yesterday, and he does not wish to see you again for some
time.  His orders are, that you set out for Arabia to buy up all the
camels that are to be had.

[Camels are never represented on the Egyptian monuments, whereas
they were in great use among the Arabians and Persians, and are now
a necessity on the Nile.  They must have existed in Egypt, however.
Hekekyan-Bey discovered the bones of a dromedary in a deep bore.
Representations of these creatures were probably forbid We know this
was the case with the cock, of which bird there were large numbers
in Egypt:  It is remarkable, that camels were not introduced into
Barbary until after the birth of Christ.]

"As these animals can bear thirst very long, they are to be used in
conveying food and water for our army on the Ethiopian campaign.  There
must be no delay.  Take leave of your wife, and (I speak by the king's
command) be ready to start before dark.  You will be absent at least a
month.  I am to accompany you as far as Pelusium.  Kassandane wishes to
have your wife and child near her during your absence.  Send them to
Memphis as soon as possible; under the protection of the queen mother,
they will be in safety."

Prexaspes' short, constrained way of speaking did not strike Bartja.
He rejoiced at what seemed to him great moderation on the part of his
brother, and at receiving a commission which relieved him of all doubt
on the question of leaving Egypt, gave his friend, (as he supposed him
to be), his hand to kiss and an invitation to follow him into the palace.

In the cool of the evening, he took a short but very affectionate
farewell of Sappho and his child, who was asleep in Melitta's arms, told
his wife to set out as soon as possible on her journey to Kassandane,
called out jestingly to his mother-in-law, that at least this time she
had been mistaken in her judgment of a man's character, (meaning his
brother's), and sprang on to his horse.

As Prexaspes was mounting, Sappho whispered to him, "Take care of that
reckless fellow, and remind him of me and his child, when you see him
running into unnecessary danger."

"I shall have to leave him at Pelusium," answered  the envoy, busying
himself with the bridle of his horse in order to avoid meeting her eyes.

"Then may the gods take him into their keeping!"  exclaimed Sappho,
clasping her husband's hand, and bursting into tears, which she could not
keep back.  Bartja looked down and saw his usually trustful wife in
tears.  He felt sadder than he had ever felt before.  Stooping down
lovingly from his saddle, he put his strong arm round her waist, lifted
her up to him, and as she stood supporting herself on his foot in the
stirrup, pressed her to his heart, as if for a long last farewell.  He
then let her safely and gently to the ground, took his child up to him on
the saddle, kissed and fondled the little creature, and told her
laughingly to make her mother very happy while he was away, exchanged
some warm words of farewell with Rhodopis, and then, spurring his horse
till the creature reared, dashed through the gateway of the Pharaohs'
palace, with Prexaspes at his side.

When the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away in the distance, Sappho
laid her head on her grandmother's shoulder and wept uncontrollably.
Rhodopis remonstrated and blamed, but all in vain, she could not stop her
tears.




CHAPTER XV.

On the morning after the trial of the bow, Cambyses was seized by such a
violent attack of his old illness, that he was forced to keep his room
for two days and nights, ill in mind and body; at times raging like a
madman, at others weak and powerless as a little child.

On the third day he recovered consciousness and remembered the awful
charge he had laid on Prexaspes, and that it was only too possible he
might have executed it already.  At this thought he trembled, as he had
never trembled in his life before.  He sent at once for the envoy's
eldest son, who was one of the royal cup-bearers.  The boy said his
father had left Memphis, without taking leave of his family.  He then
sent for Darius, Zopyrus and Gyges, knowing how tenderly they loved
Bartja, and enquired after their friend.  On hearing from them that he
was at Sais, he sent the three youths thither at once, charging them, if
they met Prexaspes on the way, to send him back to Memphis without delay.
This haste and the king's strange behavior were quite incomprehensible to
the young Achaemenidae; nevertheless they set out on their journey with
all speed, fearing that something must be wrong.

Cambyses, meanwhile, was miserably restless, inwardly cursed his habit of
drinking and tasted no wine the whole of that clay.  Seeing his mother in
the palace-gardens, he avoided her; he durst not meet her eye.

The next eight days passed without any sign of Prexaspes' return; they
seemed to the king like a year.  A hundred times he sent for the young
cup-bearer and asked if his father had returned; a hundred times he
received the same disappointing answer.

At sunset on the thirteenth day, Kassandane sent to beg a visit from him.
The king went at once, for now he longed to look on the face of his
mother; he fancied it might give him back his lost sleep.

After he had greeted her with a tenderness so rare from him, that it
astonished her, he asked for what reason she had desired his presence.
She answered, that Bartja's wife had arrived at Memphis under singular
circumstances and had said she wished to present a gift to Cambyses.  He
gave Sappho an audience at once, and heard from her that Prexaspes had
brought her husband an order to start for Arabia, and herself a summons
to Memphis from the queen-mother.  At these words the king turned very
pale, and his features were agitated with pain as he looked at his
brother's lovely young wife.  She felt that something unusual was passing
in his mind, and such dreadful forebodings arose in her own, that she
could only offer him the gift in silence and with trembling hands.

"My husband sends you this," she said, pointing to the ingeniously-
wrought box, which contained the wax likeness of Nitetis.  Rhodopis had
advised her to take this to the king in Bartja's name, as a propitiatory
offering.

Cambyses showed no curiosity as to the contents of the box, gave it in
charge to a eunuch, said a few words which seemed meant as thanks to his
sister-in law, and left the women's apartments without even so much as
enquiring after Atossa, whose existence he seemed to have forgotten.

He had come to his mother, believing that the visit would comfort and
calm his troubled mind, but Sappho's words had destroyed his last hope,
and with that his last possibility of rest or peace.  By this time either
Prexaspes would already have committed the murder, or perhaps at that
very moment might be raising his dagger to plunge it into Bartja's heart.

How could he ever meet his mother again after Bartja's death?  how could
he answer her questions or those of that lovely Sappho, whose large,
anxious, appealing eyes had touched him so strangely?

A voice within told him, that his brother's murder would be branded as a
cowardly, unnatural, and unjust deed, and he shuddered at the thought.
It seemed fearful, unbearable, to be called an assassin.  He had already
caused the death of many a man without the least compunction, but that
had been done either in fair fight, or openly before the world.  He was
king, and what the king did was right.  Had he killed Bartja with his own
hand, his conscience would not have reproached him; but to have had him
privately put out of the way, after he had given so many proofs of
possessing first-rate manly qualities, which deserved the highest praise
--this tortured him with a feeling of rage at his own want of principle,
-a feeling of shame and remorse which he had never known before.  He
began to despise himself.  The consciousness of having acted, and wished
to act justly, forsook him, and he began to fancy, that every one who had
been executed by his orders, had been, like Bartja, an innocent victim of
his fierce anger.  These thoughts became so intolerable, that he began to
drink once more in the hope of drowning them.  But now the wine had
precisely the opposite effect, and brought such tormenting thoughts,
that, worn out as he was already by epileptic fits and his habit of
drinking, both body and mind threatened to give way to the agitation
caused by the events of the last months.  Burning and shivering by turns,
he was at last forced to lie down.  While the attendants were disrobing
him, he remembered his brother's present, had the box fetched and opened,
and then desired to be left alone.  The Egyptian paintings on the outside
of the box reminded him of Nitetis, and then he asked himself what she
would have said to his deed.  Fever had already begun, and his mind was
wandering as he took the beautiful wax bust out of the box.  He stared in
horror at the dull, immovable eyes.  The likeness was so perfect, and his
judgment so weakened by wine and fever, that he fancied himself the
victim of some spell, and yet could not turn his eyes from those dear
features.  Suddenly the eyes seemed to move.  He was seized with terror,
and, in a kind of convulsion, hurled what he thought had become a living
head against the wall.  The hollow, brittle wax broke into a thousand
fragments, and Cambyses sank back on to his bed with a groan.

From that moment the fever increased.  In his delirium the banished
Phanes appeared, singing a scornful Greek song and deriding him in such
infamous words, that his fists clenched with rage.  Then he saw his
friend and adviser, Croesus, threatening him in the very same words of
warning, which he had used when Bartja had been sentenced to death by his
command on account of Nitetis: "Beware of shedding a brother's blood; the
smoke thereof will rise to heaven and become a cloud, that must darken
the days of the murderer, and at last cast down the lightnings of heaven
upon his head."

And in his delirious fancy this figure of speech became a reality.  A
rain of blood streamed down upon him from dark clouds; his clothes and
hands were wet with the loathsome moisture.  He went down to the Nile to
cleanse himself, and suddenly saw Nitetis coming towards him.  She had
the same sweet smile with which Theodorus had modelled her.  Enchanted
with this lovely vision, he fell down before her and took her hand, but
he had scarcely touched it, when drops of blood appeared at the tips of
her delicate fingers, and she turned away from him with every sign of
horror.  He humbly implored her to forgive him and come back; she
remained inexorable.  He grew angry, and threatened her, first with his
wrath, and then with awful punishments.  At last, as she only answered
his threats by a low scornful laugh, he ventured to throw his dagger at
her.  She crumbled at once into a thousand pieces, like the wax statue.
But the derisive laughter echoed on, and became louder.  Many voices
joined in it, each trying to outbid the other.  And the voices of Bartja
and Nitetis were the loudest,--their tone the most bitter.  At last he
could bear these fearful sounds no longer and stopped his ears; this was
of no use, and he buried his head, first in the glowing desert-sand and
then in the icy cold Nile-water, until his senses forsook him.  On
awaking, the actual state of things seemed incomprehensible to him.  He
had gone to bed in the evening, and yet he now saw, by the direction of
the sun's rays which fell on his bed, that, instead of dawning as he had
expected, the day was growing dark.  There could be no mistake; he heard
the chorus of priests singing farewell to the setting Mithras.

Then he heard a number of people moving behind a curtain, which had been
hung up at the head of his bed.  He tried to turn in his bed, but could