“Hear now the King’s sentence! You are pardoned. Enough blood has been shed to atone for past injury. You are brave men whom the Great King will delight to own as his children. Your lands and all your property are forfeit to him, but these he will let you use so long as you serve him in good faith. But in order that you may enjoy his protection, it will be necessary for you to render to him each summer season ten thousand good horses, as many cattle, and a like number of sheep. That he may have evidence of your good faith and in order that your people may be instructed in his laws, you must send to our city of Bactra each year one hundred of your most noble youths, to enter the King’s service, whose lives shall be forfeit should you rebel. Furthermore, you shall maintain for the King’s service ten thousand horsemen, fully equipped, who shall march whither he wills. You shall guard these lands against all foes. In return for these light services, the power of the Great King shall be over you, your foes shall be his foes, and his mighty arm will give you peace. You shall go out and come in according to your customs, but you shall molest no man who acknowledges the Great King as his master. I have spoken!”
The ambassadors bowed themselves to the earth, and their spokesman replied:
“Let all these conditions be written on tablets, O Gracious King! Most merciful and gracious is your heart! Our people will most gladly submit and will faithfully observe these conditions. And now we beg that as an earnest of our good intent, we may bring to you our first offering of ten thousand horses, ten thousand sheep, and as many cattle, for the use of our Lord and his army. So may the Great King see that we deal not with crooked tongues or lying lips.”
“It is so ordered!” assented the King, graciously. “While we have a sufficiency of victuals, fresh meat will be welcome to the army. The treaty shall be written on tablets. Go now with Captain Mardux and partake of refreshments ere you return to your people. Say to them that we shall build here a great city to be named the City of Cyrus, and it shall be a place for trade where they may exchange the product of their herds for the fruits of the south countries. Let them send laborers to assist, and the King’s bounty shall be sufficient for them. But of this we will give you further information at a future day.”
The ambassadors withdrew, greatly pleased that the sentence of the King was not more burdensome. A week later, the required horses, cattle, and sheep were brought to the camp, and the one hundred youths as hostages were surrendered. Within a year, the walls of a city were begun and a colony of loyal Aryans located within them as the nucleus of an emporium which flourished there a thousand years, rejoicing in the name of the Great King who there died for his race.
Meanwhile expert embalmers, who had learned their art in Egypt, prepared the body of Cyrus for its long journey to the city of his fathers. When well prepared, it was enclosed in a heavy casket, placed on a four-wheeled chariot drawn by ten royal white stallions, and, encompassed by the Imperial Guard, was conveyed to its tomb. The great army, drawn up in two long parallel lines, gave sad farewell to its hero-king as the funeral car passed along between, escorted by the Guard; and tears streamed down every Aryan cheek. To Prince Hystaspis, who led the van, with Gobryas at his side, a roar of acclamation, a royal salute, and shouted wishes for a safe journey and quick return, came from the successive companies he passed. Prexaspes, riding some paces to the rear, noted the great demonstration and pondered deeply thereon.
All day the funeral car and its splendid escort moved slowly southward. The Prince of Iran was silent, absorbed in meditation. Gobryas vainly endeavored to engage him in conversation. The troopers noted his downcast mien and whispered together concerning it. It was well known that Cambyses hated the Prince. Every soldier in the army had discussed it with his fellow since the Great King died. All had hoped that King Hystaspis would claim Cyrus’ throne, his by right of birth and age, if being descended from an older branch of the Achæmenian family counted; but they had been disappointed when the King had announced his support of Cambyses. What if the Prince could be persuaded to seize the throne? It was a new throne anyway, this throne of the King of Kings, the Emperor of many nations. If he would take it, they would give it to him! So reasoned the army. King Hystaspis would accede if the Prince should declare his acceptance. It would be better to go against Cambyses sword in hand and to contest for the prize of sovereignty with him, than to be seized and slain by the madman after submitting to his sway. All day on the march and much of that night around their camp-fires, the troopers discussed the matter. The result of their consultation appeared next morning. The Prince, after a restless night in which evil dreams disturbed his slumber when he did succeed in his efforts to sleep, rose and went forth just as the sun was rising. He was greatly surprised to see his ten thousand men drawn up in solid masses, forming a hollow square around his tent. He was nonplussed when every cap was hurled into the air, every sword struck buckler and every head bowed low in salute to him. His face went white with emotion and then became dark with wrath as he heard the thunderous shout:
“Hail, King of Kings! All hail!”
He raised his hand, beckoning for silence, and, addressing a group of officers, he said, speaking sternly and in a loud voice,
“What means this?”