“I remember, he used to say that Merobates was his conscience and was the only man who dared to cross him or to speak plainly to him.”
“It has always been so. He is violent. He fears not to smite in wrath; but he is subject to persuasion and art. He has no patience with those whom he dislikes and he dislikes all who neglect to praise him. Even the great Belteshazzer, appointed Governor of this province by Cyrus, has not escaped his anger. The Prince has revoked his authority.”
Presently they entered a canyon, in which a clear brook tumbled over rocks. Following this they soon entered a small valley. Great trees bordered the margin of the stream and were scattered over the valley, forming a natural park. In the midst was the Prince’s palace, a low structure built of hewn timbers. A score of lesser houses and many tents stood at the sides of an open field several acres in extent, which lay in front of the palace. On this field the sports and contests of which Cambyses was fond were held.
Prexaspes now perceived a group of men gathered beneath the spreading branches of a great live-oak near the palace. One, who was seated on a thronelike chair higher than the others, was engaged in conversation with another who stood uncovered before him and whose dress indicated that he was a priest. Others standing near appeared to be giving close attention. He who was seated was a large, heavy-limbed man, well-padded with fat and short-necked and gross. His big, round head was covered with a mass of curly black hair and was encircled by a gem-studded coronet. His face was dark, heavy, and flaccid, but his black eyes looked forth shrewdly from beneath overhanging brows. Bushy eyebrows met above his beaklike nose. A heavy black beard cut to a length of about six inches covered the lower part of his face. He was a powerful man physically and was said to be agile and quick in spite of his fat.
Such was Cambyses, elder son of Cyrus. There were marks of dissipation on his face. From early youth he had indulged his passions, until now, at the age of thirty years, he was a slave to them.
The sound of approaching hoofs called the Prince’s attention to Prexaspes and his followers. He paused in his discourse and exclaimed angrily: “Who comes? It must be very important service to cause men to ride thus into my presence!”
Prexaspes halted at twenty paces’ distance, gave the reins of his steed to Merobates, sprang to the earth and drew near, uncovering his head as he advanced. Cambyses then recognized him and uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. Prexaspes, throwing himself on his face at the Prince’s feet, cried: “All hail, King of Kings! May the Great King of all the World live forever!”
For a moment, Cambyses was silent. He knew the meaning of those words. His face paled and he sank back upon his seat. But recovering he said, in a voice quivering with excitement: “Rise up, Prexaspes! What mean you? Why are you here? What of my father?”
“I will speak only if you bid me, mighty King!”
“Speak on!”