The feast day came. There gathered into the great assembly hall of the palace a thousand of the notables of earth to honor the departure of Prince Bardya to his realms. Prexaspes had spared no expense in adorning the palace and in preparing the feast and the entertainments that should accompany it. The many pillars shining with burnished gold plate, which supported the gilded beams of the palace roof, were festooned with garlands of flowers, interwoven with streamers and bunting of many colors. The heavy tapestries of the doors in the assembly room were drawn back with silver chains. Across one end of this room a table was set, from the ends of which extended two longer tables in such manner that the King, when sitting at the center of the first, could see all his guests before him. Those he delighted to honor would sit at his table; others of less consequence would occupy the others. Snowy linen covers were laid. Heavy dishes of gold and silver, jars of beautiful Samos pottery, and vases from Egypt and Greece were put in place on them. Apples, peaches, plums, grapes, pomegranates, figs, and other rare and luscious fruits were heaped on shining platters. Confections, sweet cakes, nuts, salads, and relishes were in profusion. Flowers filled the air with delicious odors. Magnificent couches, on which the feasters might sit or recline as they chose, were placed along the tables. At one side of the room facing the King’s place was a low platform with seats for musicians, who with divers musical instruments would furnish sounds more or less harmonious while the great ones feasted. In adjacent rooms, graceful dancers, supple tricksters, and athletes were waiting to go in before the King and perform. A thousand servants, cooks, tasters, waiters, and attendants made ready the feast.
As the sun disappeared behind the western mountains, a fanfare of trumpets announced that the feast was ready, and thousands of candles were lighted in the great banquet-room. None of those invited had failed to come. The King’s invitation was regarded as a command. In the cloak-room adjacent to the banquet-room, each guest received a purple robe to be worn during the feast and to be carried away by him at its close.
At the appointed moment Prexaspes, as ruler of the feast, appeared, gorgeously dressed and having in his hand a wand. As the guests entered he indicated the seats to be occupied by them, placing them according to their rank. At the King’s table sat Crœsus, late king of Lydia, a prisoner, but an honored guest. There sat also Nebuchadezzer, Prince of Nineveh, and a score of other princes whose dominions were no longer theirs to rule, but who, though prisoners of the King of Kings, sat at his table and showed to the world that they lived on his bounty. When all had been duly placed, they remained standing with faces turned towards the throne at one end of the room and awaited the coming of the King. At the left of the throne was a door covered by heavy purple curtains hanging from ceiling to floor.
Having placed all the guests, Prexaspes touched a cord and the tinkle of a bell announced the coming of royalty. The curtains of the door near the throne were parted and disclosed the King advancing, followed by his brother, his wife, and his two sisters, the women being closely veiled. The King strode heavily forward, his swarthy countenance lowering and his black eyes sweeping over the guests. All the guests bowed low towards him. He sat down heavily at his table. The guests remained standing until Prince Bardya, his sisters, and the King’s wife had taken their places at the King’s table. Then, at a wave of Prexaspes’ wand, the guests sank upon their seats. Immediately, nimble servants with pitchers and goblets appeared from side doors and poured wine for each guest. The King’s cup-bearer stood with a great cup of Helbon wine at the side of his master. The King seized the cup and, after waving it slightly toward his guests, drank from it long and deeply. The guests also drank. The musicians took their places and began playing a weird melody, monotonous and long-drawn-out, with many repetitions and variations. A murmur of conversation arose.
Servants brought on trays of smoking meat, of delicious vegetables and pastries, and for each guest the food to which he was accustomed, prepared to suit his taste. The King ate and drank in silence, not even addressing a word to his wife, who sat at his right hand. Bardya and the royal sisters ate little. Their hearts were full of anxiety over the proposed escape of the Prince. But the King drank much wine. He also called for soma and drank of that liquor deeply. And as he drank, he watched Prexaspes, who ever moved nervously about the room directing the feast. Would the elegant Mede fail? The King began to devise a sufficient punishment to inflict on him should he fail. Dancers were brought in after the feast had well begun and gave an exhibition of sinuous movement, like the curving of a snake’s folds, or the graceful undulations of the sea waves. After the dancers there were performances by jugglers, mountebanks, and tricksters, and athletes displayed their strength and agility in wrestling-bouts. At the close of the feast, Prexaspes stood in the midst and called for silence. Then he said, “O King, by your gracious permission, I will now bring in the Magians who hold communion with the spirits of the departed, who have control of the powers of the gods, and who will divine and prophesy for you, besides doing many other wonderful things.”
The faces of all were turned upon the King; and only on the countenances of the Persian nobles and the faces of Bardya and his sisters was disapproval written.
“Let them come in with their tricks,” said the King, sneeringly. “They may delude us, but they will not convince us. Let them come!”
“Let the lights be partially extinguished!” commanded Prexaspes.
Immediately servants extinguished the candles, except a few at the King’s table, and semi-darkness enveloped them all. Then a band of six Magians entered. Servants brought in a heavy square table and set it in the open space between the dining tables. Others brought in some small tablets and balls, which were placed on the table. The magicians prostrated themselves before the King in salutation and afterwards gathered around the square table in silence and joined hands. They were clad in black robes, which covered their bodies in loose folds from their necks down. Their hands were visible below the wide sleeves of the robes, and their pallid faces shone dead white in the semi-gloom below the dark turbans wound loosely around their heads.
As soon as the lights were extinguished, the King turned his back upon Bardya as if weary of his presence. Then a hand touched Bardya on the shoulder, and, turning, he saw Prexaspes who beckoned with a nod and disappeared into the gloom of a side chamber. Bardya waited a moment until the attention of all was concentrated upon the group of magicians; then, after pressing Athura’s hand lightly, he rose and quietly followed Prexaspes. The King seemed not to notice his movements, but was really watching.