He ceased and waited for an answer, leering at them drunkenly.
“Surely you mean not to make us actually wives, contrary to all the laws of the Medes and Persians?” said Athura.
“But it is not contrary to their laws,” he retorted. “Have I not decreed a new law? Am I not supreme? Is there any other that can make a law? Ah, you are a proud woman, Athura, and your heart is set on that Prince of Iran whom I hate above all men and would slay, were it not greater satisfaction to make him serve me without his hoped-for reward of marrying you! I have thought well on this noble revenge! I hate you also; but I will bend you to my will, and you shall be my concubine if not my wife, whether you desire or not! As for Artistone, I hate her not. I prefer to make her my chief wife. She shall be Queen. I have spoken! Artistone, go to the Queen’s room and there abide. Athura, follow me now to the room set apart for my women!”
Athura rose, her eyes blazing, and moved swiftly towards the King, with her right hand drawing from her bodice a short, keen dagger.
“Truly, brute without sense or reason,” she hissed, “I come to you, but with death in my hand!”
She leaped towards him and the dagger gleamed in her raised hand. With an exclamation of alarm the King sprang backward through the door. He stumbled and almost fell as he ran down the hall. As she did not pursue, he halted and shouted at her, while shaking his fist: “Death is it? So shall it be to you, after I bend your proud spirit!” Then he roared for his guards.
Athura paused at the door. She heard the King’s threat and his wrathful call for his body-guard. She saw the hall filling with armed men. She turned back and fled across the room, crying to her sister: “Come! Follow me into the bedroom! They come to seize us!”
But Artistone, as if dazed, sat still, and, weeping aloud, wrung her hands. Athura paused at the door of her bedroom and cried: “Come! Hurry!”
A dozen men poured into the room and rushed towards her. Artistone did not move. Athura entered her room, threw shut the heavy door, and bolted it just as the men hurled themselves against it. The King shouted in a loud voice so that Athura might hear: “Let her stay there and starve awhile! She will come to her senses! Establish guards here and watch! Let her not escape on forfeit of your lives! She will kiss my hand presently. As for you, Artistone, come with me. You shall be my Queen!” He went to Artistone, took her by the hand, and led her, weeping bitterly, away. The sisters never saw each other again.
Athura waited like a tigress at bay, dagger in hand, at her bedroom door, until satisfied that no attempt would be made to force an entrance. Then she examined the brazen lattice-work with which a window looking out upon the inner court was guarded and saw that it was securely fastened. She drew a heavy curtain over the window. Thus securely shut in she began to prepare for escape. She realized that she was powerless to aid her sister. It was equally clear to her that only in immediate escape could she avoid disgrace or death. It would be useless to ask mercy of the King. Her plan of escape was already formed. She was acquainted with every room and passage in the palace, and knew the secrets of it. Her only fear was that Cambyses also knew those secrets and would set guards to watch every avenue of escape.