Athura smiled derisively. Her eyes showed no less will-power than his, and, extending her hand in a repellent gesture, she said: “I say that I will speak freely without being coerced by your devil’s power! Dog that you are! I shall live to see your carcass thrown to the vultures!”
The battle of wills continued in silence for a tense moment. Then the eyes of Patatheites wavered and dropped. His hand fell at his side. His dusky face paled to a sickly yellow.
“Princess, again I ask forgiveness,” he said humbly. “Well I know that the spirit of the great Cyrus, living again in you, cannot be commanded! Let us reason together. Being a woman, you can never reign alone on the throne of Iran, or of the world. All the males of your family are dead. The kingdom will pass to the King of Iran. If his son were living he would make you his wife, and thus, when his father dies, you might become his Queen but not a joint ruler with him. But the Prince of Iran is dead. He was slain in a battle near Susa yesterday. It remains only for you to accept our proposition and you will become joint ruler with this Bardya and reign over the whole world.”
The Princess made no immediate answer, but gazed in silence on the face of the speaker, striving to read whether he lied or not in speaking of the Prince. The cold hand of fear clutched at her heart. Dread seized her throat and almost stifled her. But there seemed to whisper in her ear a voice like that of the loved Bardya of old, saying: “Believe him not, little sister. The Prince yet lives and will surely come to your aid.” She was startled and looked around involuntarily searching for the speaker; but no one, save her maid, was near. Arousing herself with a great effort, the Princess again controlled her agitation and said: “You are stating a falsehood, magician! But, even if the Prince were dead, it would not alter my determination. What? I, a daughter of Cyrus, mate with that slave? Begone from my sight!”
The pallid face of Gaumata flushed in anger. Thrusting aside Patatheites, he laid one hand on a short sword at his side. “Woman!” he cried excitedly, “birth makes not a man, but achievement! I am a noble of Medea, of ancient lineage and royal stock. Centuries ago my forefathers ruled the Scythians, who were once lords of Medea. I have dared to seize the throne of the world from your tyrant brother, and I mean to hold it! I have offered you the right to share it. Choose! On the morrow you accept or die! The world is not large enough to permit you and me to live therein unless we join fortunes!”
The Princess was surprised. She had deemed this man a mere puppet. He seemed to have some qualities of a strong man. She spoke less bitterly as she answered: “You speak somewhat kingly, Gaumata! But you are a living lie, ruling not by your own might! You rule only by reason of Bardya’s name. Do not deceive yourself into the belief that the Aryans would permit you to rule an hour, did they know the truth! No! Rather it would be better for you to release me and place in my hands the scepter and crown. I might so far pardon you as to permit you life and property. Think of this, my offer until to-morrow, and I will consider yours.”
“Until to-morrow then, farewell!” said Patatheites, bowing low and backing quickly from the room. Gaumata followed without the formality of a bow. Athura sat a long time in silence after they had gone, wrapped in thought, while the daughter of Gustasp stood in silence with folded hands and bowed head at her side.
The Princess turned to her maid at length and asked: “What think you, child? The magicians were not able to bend my will, though strong was the power of the priest’s evil eyes. I felt my brain reel and I became dizzy for a moment.”
“I have never seen one able to resist him before,” answered the maid. “Truly Ahura-Mazda has sent to your aid some powerful angel!”
The hours of that day passed very slowly for the Princess. She spent the greater part of her time in the upper chamber looking from the window upon the valley below. She had little hope that any aid would arrive. She was determined to escape from the castle at all hazards as soon as night should come, and she sent word to Gustasp that he must arrange for her escape.