“We will go out hunting!” he shouted to the poor startled courtiers. The master of the hounds, the equerries, and huntsmen hastened to obey his orders. He called after them, “I shall ride the unbroken horse Reksch; get the falcons ready, let all the dogs out and order every one to come, who can throw a spear. We’ll clear the preserves!”
He then threw himself down on his divan again, as if these words had quite exhausted his powerful frame, and did not see that Hystaspes had entered, for his sullen gaze was fixed on the motes playing in the sunbeams that glanced through the window.
Hystaspes did not dare to address him; but he stationed himself in the window so as to break the stream of motes and thus draw attention to himself.
At first Cambyses looked angrily at him and his rent garments, and then asked with a bitter smile; “What do you want?”
“Victory to the king! Your poor servant and uncle has come to entreat his ruler’s mercy.”
“Then rise and go! You know that I have no mercy for perjurers and false swearers. ‘Tis better to have a dead son than a dishonorable one.”
“But if Bartja should not be guilty, and Darius...”
“You dare to question the justice of my sentence?”
“That be far from me. Whatever the king does is good, and cannot be gainsaid; but still...”
“Be silent! I will not hear the subject mentioned again. You are to be pitied as a father; but have these last few hours brought me any joy? Old man, I grieve for you, but I have as little power to rescind his punishment as you to recall his crime.”