CHAPTER XXI
KING OF KINGS
THAT evening the Prince, accompanied by Athura, ascended the narrow stairs leading to the flat top of the castle-tower and, seated on the low parapet that surrounded it, watched the sun set in golden splendor. They found an altar of heavy stones, rudely squared, in the center of the roof. It bore marks of long usage. But the fire which had blazed on it for years was dead. Only ashes remained.
The evening was pleasant. The sky was a deep, blue dome. The wide plain to the south, surrounded on all sides by hills, the high mountains to the north and east, with their sharp crags and peaks, with Elwend and her snow in the east and Demavend far to the northeast, a diamond point of eternal white, were of entrancing beauty. The Prince for a time forgot battles and marches. Athura forgot the long years of waiting and watching. They were lovers now, rank and royalty forgotten, man and maid, each glorified by the other’s love. The sun stood still in the heavens and the hills rolled up and concealed him. Darkness enveloped them, and they were oblivious of all else than themselves. The stars appeared, brilliant points in the depths of space. The moon rose and drove the shadows from the hilltops into the depths of canyon and gulch. A great owl winged his way slowly about the tower and, alighting on the altar, peered at them suspiciously. When they moved he flapped away into the shadows of the hills. Bats flitted hither and thither like restless spirits. A wolf howled in the distant mountains. The low hum of conversation came up from the soldiers gathered about camp-fires in the courtyard. In such surroundings, the royal lovers again took up and tied the broken threads of life and renewed their vows to each other.
Morning brought with it activity. The castle was abandoned. The army marched to Hamadan. A special guard of gayly-caparisoned officers rode near the litter in which the Princess was borne, or followed the horse on which, at times, she chose to ride by the side of the Prince. There was no organized opposition to the march. Bands of soldiers, which were riding to the aid of the false King, returned to their homes, stunned by the sudden overthrow of their leader. Gaumata’s head was borne aloft on a pike-staff; and, in every hamlet and village, a crier called the people together and told them of the false King’s deception and death.
So it came about that the cavalry under the Prince and the infantry under the King of Iran came together near Hamadan, entered the city without encountering resistance, and relieved Captains Arios and Mardux, not only of their danger but also of their soft living in the palace of the Great King. But in appreciation of their valiant service, they were promoted to higher grades in the Imperial Guard and later they became chief officers of the Guard.
On the day that they entered Hamadan, Athura became the wife of the Prince of Iran. The marriage feast was held in the palace. After the feast, the great nobles of Iran were called into the throne room by King Hystaspis, who, sitting on the throne in state, addressed them thus:
“Nobles of the Aryan race, I have called you hither to ask what is your will concerning the throne left by Cyrus and Cambyses. By right of birth, I, the head of the Achæmenian family, am entitled to reign in Iran. I am King of Iran. But while Iran rules the world, the victories of Cyrus established such rule and his authority was paramount to mine. I am old and desire to live the few years that may be mine in ease. I desire not to assume the burden that must be borne by the King of Kings. For I foresee that some of the conquered provinces will rebel and that wars will come. The line of Cyrus is dead, all save the Princess who this day has become the wife of my son. It is my command that all here speak freely.”
Otanes stepped forth and looked about him a moment in silence. Then his eyes rested upon the Prince of Iran and his beautiful bride, who sat at the right hand of King Hystaspis. He bowed low before them.
“There can be but one choice, O King,” he said gravely. “The royal power has ever been in the Achæmenian family. As long as there are men of that royal line, none others may dare to aspire to the throne. If you, Sire, refuse to reign, there stands the well-beloved Prince, your son, whose wisdom and valor are far beyond his years, whose name is on every soldier’s tongue, as the hero of his race! By him stands Athura, most beautiful, most royal in birth. Has not your family and the family of Cyrus united? Let Darius Hystaspis be King of Kings and Athura, the daughter of Cyrus, be his Queen! Thus will all the peoples be contented and the world be blest. What say you, nobles of Iran?”
A roar of assent was the response.